“Damn, damn, damn!” Raphael dodged Eli’s blade and fell back fast, panic beating like wings in his chest.

He stared at the sword and cursed inwardly. He switched blades and his power surged like a storm—what the hell?

That thought snagged him. Eli caught the opening and drove a thrust straight for his brow, a hawk stooping for prey.

Raphael flooded his body with life energy and wrenched his head aside, skimming death by a breath.

The black edge still kissed his face. It carved a long, blood-bright line, like lightning splitting bark.

“Ah!” Raphael clutched the wound, tumbled midair, then steadied and bolted, fear snapping at his heels.

“Tch. Slippery as an eel.” Eli frowned. He hugged Edlyn closer, warmth against steel in his arms.

He kicked off and surged faster, his method turning sharper, like winter wind over bone, and drove a flurry of thrusts at Raphael.

Raphael could only retreat, ragged as leaves in a gale.

“What is that black sword?” Raphael bit his lip, tasting copper and dread.

His fae-forged Hand, reinforced over and over, had been cleaved clean off like brittle ice.

Life energy and his strange physique knit flesh. A small hand budded, shy as a sprout after frost.

But that blade’s hunger rattled him. It bit like a crescent of night.

“As long as I reach the trap, I’ll grind them to dust.” He gritted his teeth and slid back, a fox seeking its burrow.

Eli watched him flee and stopped, still as a stone in a stream, drawing breath as energy pooled in his palms.

Edlyn pinched his cheek. “Hey. Why’d you stop? Leaving a hostile elf loose in a big forest is asking for trouble.”

Eli dipped and pecked her lips, teasing a hiss of disgust. He smiled. “Relax. He won’t live. I’m not as dumb as you.”

“F—! You filthy Hero, what did you just say?!” Edlyn sank her teeth into his shoulder, a cat’s warning bite.

Eli breathed in and grimaced. “Easy, little ancestor.”

“Hmph.”

He raised the blade and set his stance. He stomped, and his whole body shot forward like a loosed arrow.

“Ride the Wave!”

Whoosh!

Trees burst aside in his wake. Raphael felt the roar behind him, turned, and saw a sword hurtling in, night made steel.

“Don’t kill me!” Raphael yelled, terror cracking his voice.

Boom!

The Demon Race’s Holy Sword skimmed past Raphael, then lost all force and buried itself in the earth, a dark stake in moss.

Raphael watched the two stroll up. Cold sweat beaded like dew on his skin.

He’d killed too much, rode the high, and lost his sense, a moth drunk on flame.

Edlyn flicked her fingers. The black sword near Raphael ripped free and flew back to her palm, a crow returning to roost.

She handed it to Eli without looking, smooth as passing tea across a table.

“Tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?” Eli ruffled Edlyn’s hair, then fixed Raphael with a quiet, winter-calm gaze.

“I—I can take you to the Tree of Life.” Raphael’s jaw knotted, words like stones.

Eli frowned. “No thanks. Killing you sounds more practical.”

“No!” Raphael stared at the blade, despair cold as rain down his neck.

Edlyn tugged Eli’s clothes, a soft anchor on a hard tide.

Eli froze mid-swing and glanced over, curious as a boy at a shrine. “Ai-chan? What?”

Edlyn beckoned. “Bring your face closer.”

He lowered his head until their foreheads touched, a warm bridge. He smiled. “Like this?”

“Why so close? Back up.” Edlyn pinched his cheek, annoyed, a spark under velvet.

Eli laughed. “Alright, alright. Say it.”

Raphael eyed their flirting and edged his foot. Eli slid the blade to his throat without looking, night at the jugular.

Raphael sighed and returned, trapped like a rabbit under a hawk’s shadow.

He cursed himself. He poked a tiger. Now his fate dangled on mood and a blade’s whim.

You reap what you sow.

Edlyn leaned to Eli’s ear. His scent washed over her, spice and iron. Her Succubus core stirred like embers catching.

She bit her lip and hurried, tamping heat. “Do you know what a Holy Sword is made from?”

Eli’s eyes lit, sunrise over steel. “You mean—”

“Right. Your past Holy Sword Tias, and my current Ashir, were forged from the World Tree’s roots.”

“Huh? Not the Tree of Life? Why the World Tree?”

“Tsk. You hate being called ignorant, yet here we are.” Edlyn’s look was a clean slice.

He shrugged. “Just say it. Teasing me won’t help now.”

“The World Tree’s seedling is the Elf Race’s Tree of Life. If we grab a Tree of Life seed, we can track the World Tree’s current location by its primal scent.” Excitement rippled in her voice.

“What? The World Tree moves? You don’t know where it is?” Eli scratched his head, baffled as a farmer under stars.

“Of course it moves. Otherwise, why call it the World Tree?” Edlyn tapped his forehead, a temple bell of scorn. “Back then, you hit me so hard I had to borrow a Tree of Life seed from the Dark Elves. I found the World Tree and hacked off a single root. Then the World Tree vanished.”

“And a Tree of Life seed shows once in tens of thousands of years. You won’t see another, almost ever.” Her words snapped like frost on grass.

Eli paused. “Huh. So that’s how…”

“Idiot.” Edlyn’s glance was quick and sharp.

Eli frowned. “Hold up. If you could chop it, doesn’t that mean the root’s not that great as material?”

“What? Not that great?” Edlyn exploded, thunder under silk. “Smelt that root in furnace heat like a planet’s core, and it becomes an indestructible relic. Even gods covet it. And you call it ‘not that great’?”

Eli rolled his eyes and sighed, wind through pines. “Alright, alright. If you say so. But—I could just find my old Holy Sword Tias instead.”

Edlyn stared, her voice dropping, a lamp dimming. “You said it yourself. You’re Eli Aestor, not Birand Aste.”

Eli’s eyes widened. A smile bloomed, soft as spring. He rubbed her nose. “Thanks, darling.”

Heat surged in Edlyn. She pushed his face away, flustered. “Don’t—don’t get cheesy. Be serious.”

“Alright.” Eli smiled and turned his gaze on Raphael, winter clear.

“So, friend Elf—will you take us to your Tree of Life?”

Raphael gave a bitter nod. They clearly knew the Spring of Life was about to be born, storm-cloud knowledge.

He stood. “Then follow me.”

He racked his brain and couldn’t guess their real aim. Normal folk wouldn’t know a Tree of Life seed mattered at all.

They followed Raphael into the forest’s deep, where roots breathe and shadows thicken.

Step by step, they drifted farther from their first destination—the Elven City, a distant lantern gone dim.

...

“How long has the Demonic Lord been missing?” Era pressed her brow, watching Reni fret, a caged sparrow.

Reni rolled her eyes. “Who knows. The communication crystal went dark that day. No image since.”

Era frowned. “What did the Demonic Lord run into?” Her voice held rain.

Janus walked over and patted their shoulders. He smiled, an autumn lake. “Relax. Right now, she’s definitely fine.”

“Huh? Why are you so sure?” Reni asked, eyebrows knitting like twine.

Janus smiled. “Because she’s about to meet the one fate owes her.”

“Destined?” Reni and Era traded looks, baffled as deer in mist.

“Anyway, you don’t need all the answers yet.” Janus shrugged, loose as drifting leaves. “Keep at it.”

He pointed to the cloud-piercing altar rising nearby, stone stacked like thunderheads. “Work fast. Or your Demonic Lord might face an accident.”

Era narrowed her eyes, blade-thin. “Is that… a threat?”

Janus blinked, then laughed, sunlight on steel. “Hardly. If I wanted to threaten you, I wouldn’t bother with this much fuss.”

Era remembered his uncanny power and nodded, helpless as fog.

“Sir, when this altar is ready, what will you use it for?” Reni stepped up, curiosity bright.

Janus winked, then glanced toward Zero, a shadow with weight. “Hmm. Let someone meet his future father-in-law.”

“Huh?”

...

“These people died ugly.” Eli covered Edlyn’s eyes on reflex, a hand like shelter. He glared at Raphael, storm gathering.

Raphael gave a bitter shrug. “Can’t help it. I’m a madman with two minds. My job’s Torturer. The other self loves cruelty.”

Eli studied the ruin ahead and locked his brows, iron bars. “No wonder you reek of blood.”

The victim’s bones were cracked piece by piece. Flesh was opened and seeded with strange crystals, pain sprouting like thorns.

Eli scanned the room. In jars he saw honey, salt, chili, and ice water—sweet, sting, burn, and cold.

Iron tools hung like thistles. Corpses swayed like wilted flags. The gloom crawled like mold.

Eli frowned. “Weren’t you taking us to the Tree of Life? Why bring us here?”

Raphael’s eyes flickered. Fear pooled, a shadowed well. “I—I just came to pick up a key. Wait here.”