“What do you want?” Eli eyed the Bloodkin. Instinct surged like cold rain—an ugly fight was about to break.

The Bloodkin smiled, voice lilting with mischief. “Sir, you’re so capable. Why not guess what I want?”

His patience snapped like a taut string. “I’m not wasting time with you.”

A white array flared under his feet, flashing gold. An updraft tore his hair loose. His gaze sharpened, cold as steel.

She nodded with a strange smile, perfect cheeks exposed beneath a half-mask. “Why so fierce?”

Eli didn’t answer. His eyes caught the smooth line of her chin, that flawless curve. A flicker of recognition stung; he frowned.

She cast her cloak aside and sprang back like a shadow.

Eli jolted back to himself, a cold snort slicing the air. “Still trying to run?”

His left hand whipped out. A white beam tore from behind him, riding his swing, and slammed into her chest. She grunted, staggered, blood beading at her lips.

She steadied and gave him a small smile, thin as frost. “As expected—you’re strong.”

“Yield. Tell me who’s behind you.” The space around him warped like heat haze. Mana surged; he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Knew you’d be that full of yourself.” She shrugged, easy as if they were old friends.

“Hmm?” Eli blinked. Did this Bloodkin actually know him?

“Hey.” Her grin turned sly as eerie red light pulsed from her chest wound.

Alarm spiked, hot and sour. He didn’t know what it was—only that he had to stop it. “Stop!”

“Too late.” She tilted her head, mocking.

Boom—she exploded where she stood.

“Shi—!” Shock hit, then the blast hammered him, flinging him hard and far.

Boom—the remaining flesh detonated again, fiercer than the first.

The roar and tremors rolled into the hall, rattling officials mid-conversation.

People glanced about, fear rippling like wind over grain. Hilriad frowned, eyes tilting worriedly toward Eli’s direction.

Eli lay ten meters from the blast, face slick with blood. He hauled himself up and spat crimson. “Cough… I got careless. Do Bloodkin have that ability?”

He combed Birand’s memories, leafing through them like old pages. In all the notes on Bloodkin, there was nothing about self-detonation.

Even across Demon Race battlefields, storm-torn and burning, he’d never heard of Bloodkin blowing themselves up.

And… the sun hadn’t fully set. Holy-light spell bolts still hissed behind him. When he blasted away that demon cloak, the Bloodkin hadn’t flinched at the light.

He frowned and sketched the answer like a shadow taking shape. The aura felt close, but that thing shouldn’t be Bloodkin. So what was it?

Right then, a vast sense of danger wrapped him like cold fog.

He clenched his brows and dragged his wounded body, shuffling to the window.

He glanced at the dusk-stained sky, mouth twitching. His wards unraveled, and the contracted spirits drifted away like dim fireflies.

“It’s really happening.” He layered healing spells on himself, mind racing for answers.

A sharp sting in his hand snapped him back. He narrowed his eyes, stunned. Such pure demonic qi—how could it still exist in this world?

It was outrageous, like mountains budging. Could Hilriad’s brothers pull off something like this?

He stopped speculating. Disaster had already arrived, a tide bursting through gates.

He climbed to the rooftop and stared at the sky, packed with silhouettes like locusts. He swallowed. Voices woven from pure mana boomed through the Ninth Prince’s manor: “Run!”

Hilriad heard it and shot Moser a look. Moser nodded and rushed off. Hilriad understood Eli was in trouble. “Everyone, leave, now!”

The nobles, rattled by the explosions and that single “Run,” panicked. Not knowing what the Ninth Prince was doing, chaos spilled through the hall.

The Grand Duke—Aaron Osborne, brother to the emperor—shoved past fleeing nobles and faced Hilriad, severe and sour. “Hilriad, what on earth are you doing?!”

Hilriad looked at his burly uncle, voice steady as a drawn bow. “Uncle, please evacuate the nobles.”

“Hmm?”

“You heard my guards’ announcement, right? Then hurry—”

“Hilriad, you’d better not be joking.” Aaron narrowed his eyes like storm clouds but said no more.

Hilriad bit his lip, grit like gravel underfoot. His uncle never liked him; maybe he’d pick this moment to make it worse.

Aaron wasn’t that petty. He disliked this nephew who looked almost like his sister-in-law, but he wouldn’t ignore danger to his own skin.

He’d heard the voice. His ears weren’t broken.

Edlyn stared at the sky, silent as a still well.

“Damn it. These lunatics wouldn’t—?” Eli ran the rooftops, brows locked. Above, the Bloodkin—if that’s what they were—fell in a countless swarm.

“Myriad Spirit Locking Array!” Eli raised a hand. A gray array bloomed across the roof, chains whipping out to bind the falling Bloodkin.

Edlyn watched from a balcony and shook her head. “It won’t work. I told you—it’s already too late.”

Boom. The chained Bloodkin burst, dissolving into blood mist that ignited. The chains held, yet slipped his control. “Damn!” Eli frowned.

And behind the ones that blew, another batch dove from the sky like rain after thunder.

“Damn it. If Tengger hadn’t hauled Jim back, I wouldn’t be this pathetic.”

He dodged raining blood-flames while trying to stem the tide. He didn’t see the few crawling up from below—until one seized his left ankle.

Eli jolted, slammed a Holy Light ward on himself, and blinked aside.

Boom. The flesh bomb didn’t wound him, just shoved him hard. He lost footing and crashed off the roof like a rolling stone.

Seeing the sky black with enemies, he scrambled up, hands rising to cast the Myriad Spirit Lock again—then caught a lone figure on the far balcony. A Bloodkin was streaking straight for her.

Eli’s pupils pinched. His hands stilled, and he roared, bell-clear and raw, “Edlyn! Go, now!”

Why was she still there? He’d sent her a private message to take Angela and leave. Why was she still here? That girl always ignored him at the worst moments.

Fury burned hot. He abandoned his target and sprinted for Edlyn.

Angela had somehow wandered back to where Eli had been. With a sharp scream, the little girl was swallowed by flame.

Eli’s steps faltered. He bit hard into his tongue. Pain snapped him out of the haze.

Not the time for grief. He still had a target, someone to save. That stubborn girl.

Edlyn watched the Bloodkin close in, a satisfied smile touching her face. “Well. Looks like the Hero has a conscience.”

“Edlyn!” Eli’s furious shout carried. The Demonic Lord acted like she didn’t hear. She gave him one last look and moved her lips.

Another blast flipped Eli hard. He saw Edlyn shape her final words—he couldn’t hear them, but their weight was clear: “Goodbye, Hero.”

Boom.

“Ah!”

His howl rose with the last Bloodkin’s blast. The scene ended, a curtain of smoke falling.

On the train, the girl panted hard, pale as paper against the seat. “Ugh. Still too weak—such small spells, and I’m gasping like this.”

Angela lay slumped beside her, sleeping quietly.

Edlyn’s skin gleamed with cold sweat—clear signs of overdrawn power.

“I didn’t expect this. Me, the Demon Race’s supreme… how embarrassing.” She grit her teeth, fought the dizziness, and began extracting demonic qi from bizarre items she’d bought at the alchemist’s.

Raging Fiend Swarm—an eighth-circle summoning spell. It calls Fiends of at least sixth rank, good only for low stealth and self-detonation.

Quantity scales with mana. They often mirror the caster’s shape.

If they die to the enemy, backlash feeds into the caster. Prepare wide-area high-damage weapons in advance, and the spell is a joke.

She’d used it the first time she fought the Hero, underestimating him. He cut once, and the sword-qi erased them all.

She spat three mouthfuls of blood and fell behind, briefly.

“Well, the wheel turns. Hero, looks like you finally tripped over this trick. Hahaha—cough, cough.” Edlyn laughed until the breath caught in her throat.

Once she caught her breath, she paused the refining. She lifted a cup and watched the tea leaves float like little boats.

Her triumphant smile thinned, then vanished. She sat there, expressionless.

At last she sighed and set the cup down. She turned toward the Ninth Prince’s manor, closed her eyes, and spoke softly.

“Goodbye, Hero. Thank you. For this time, for your care. But I will defeat you, and complete the curse I laid on you before my last life ended.”

She fell silent a moment, then murmured, “Last time you beat me. This time… this time… you will lose.”

She rubbed Angela’s hair and, full of tangled feeling, leaned against her sister. The girl grumbled in her sleep.

Edlyn smiled. She tickled Angela’s little nose, then yawned. She was tired. Night had fallen; it was time to rest.