"Hey. I've been stuck here a whole month—why won't you let me out?!" Edlyn slapped the floor, anger thudding like a drum in a storm.

"The door's right there. If you've got the chops, walk through it." Janus pointed at the wavering gate, her tone light as a drifting cloud.

Edlyn bit down hard, lips jutting like a sulking cat in rain, and sat back on the stool.

Janus smiled and let silence pool between them like still water at dusk.

Edlyn stared at the floating, mirage-like door, teeth grinding like grit between stones, her face a map of unwilling fire.

She'd tried to touch that door before, only to meet smoke and moonlight, never substance.

The moment she fully crossed, she fell into the Abyss, a bottomless drop like a swallowed star.

She kept falling, and fell, until Janus felt sunny enough to fish her out like a hook from deep water.

Over time, she learned; the lesson settled like dust, and she behaved.

She knew now to ask Janus first, every time, like a traveler checking the wind before setting sail.

But Janus always lounged half-dead with leisure, like a cat on a warm wall, which stoked her fury like summer heat.

Still, she lived under another’s roof, a sparrow beneath eaves in winter, and the words died on her tongue.

"So why keep me here, huh?" Edlyn’s voice bristled like thorns in dry grass.

"You know I’m busy; he’s suffering out there right now," she blurted, worry beating like wings. "I have to help him!"

"Relax. It’s his own trial," Janus said, voice level as a flat sea. "If you meddle too early, you’ll do nothing but scramble the order like broken constellations."

Janus took off her mask, swept back the white hair by her ear, and tapped a stark knife-scar, a pale river on skin.

"Know what this is?" Her words hung like frost.

Edlyn blinked, her reply snagging like silk on thorns.

"At our level, if we don’t want scars, our bodies don’t keep them," Janus said with a crooked smile, dry as old bark.

"This is... my experience. I can’t give details, or it’ll ripple chaos like stones in a still pond."

Edlyn folded back into her seat, small as a leaf in wind. "Then... that scar..." she ventured, voice moth-soft.

"Don’t ask. If not for him, it wouldn’t be just one," Janus shrugged, the motion casual as drifting ash. "At the root, it was my fault—ignored him and rushed in."

She fixed her gaze on Edlyn, eyes steady as winter stars. "Now do you get it?"

Edlyn held the silence, then nodded, her breath thin as thread.

"Don’t look at me like that. We’ll be fine; storms pass like seasons," Janus said, smiling as she set the mask back in place.

Edlyn blinked, eyes bright as dew, and grasped at another topic. "So... why the mask?"

"Because I want to. You’ll know later," Janus narrowed her eyes, voice a shaded grove. "Ask too much and it’ll hurt you."

"My sister..." Edlyn pointed at sleeping Angela, whose breath rose and fell like a quiet tide.

"She’s my sister too," Janus said, brow creasing like a drawn bow. "Keeping you here is also because of her."

"But what we’re about to do is... a little cruel," she added, words cold as a knife’s gleam.

"What? You’re not cutting her open to study, are you?" Edlyn shot back, hackles up like a wary fox.

"Tsk. Damn, I’m starting to hate my past self," Janus clicked her tongue, vexation sparking like flint. "Hey, Zero, did I catch this from you after hanging around too long?"

Edlyn blinked, thrown off balance like a step on thin ice. "Zero’s here? Then..."

The void rippled again, a dark lake stirred by an unseen wind.

This time, that familiar silhouette stepped out, sharp as a cliff-line at dawn.

"Hey. Quit staring. This one’s mine; yours is outside," Janus said, hand cutting into Edlyn’s line of sight like a fan.

"As if I want it. Hm?" Edlyn shot her a scornful look, cool as shade.

"Me, obviously." Janus tapped her own face, pride flashing like sunlight on steel.

"Tch." Edlyn turned away, a willow refusing the wind.

"Tch," Janus echoed, grinning like a fox.

Zero only smiled, let their banter slide like rain off stone, and walked straight to Angela.

He extended a finger and tapped her brow, touch light as falling ash. "Yo. The Abyss let you live till now, and you still don’t know your place?"

...

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

"Charge!"

Boom!

The Beastfolk roared, voices like thunderheads rolling, and explosions of mana bloomed everywhere like storm-flowers.

The Elf Race’s line buckled, inching backward like a tide dragged by a dark moon.

The camp Eli had pried from the Beastfolk slipped away again, tugged back like a net hauled by rough hands.

Albert watched from the mountain peak, his gaze cold as a winter blade. "The Elf Race is caving this fast?"

"Sir, Lord Ascaraun bids you begin the next phase," a voice relayed, crisp as a snapped twig.

Albert sighed, breath fogging like mist. "So the elves truly can’t hold. Even Ascaraun no longer trusts them?"

"Sir! Please don’t lament," the man behind him pressed, urgency like a drumbeat.

"Huh? You’re awfully bold," Albert said, irritation flashing like flint.

The man flapped his hands. "Don’t dare, sir. It’s just urgent—I fear we’ll miss the moment."

"Who asked you? You think I don’t know timing?" Albert’s anger flared like dry grass catching.

"Which department are you?"

"Forgive me, sir," the man bowed his head, then fell silent like a shadow.

"Forget it. Wartime; I’ll let it slide. Now get lost," Albert sneered, smile thin as a blade.

The man lowered his head and slipped away, a leaf taken by wind.

"Damn it, these people respect me less by the day," Albert muttered, bile hot as coals. "New blood, and they can’t tell who’s boss."

"Sir. Our intel says there are Seafolk traces in the Beastfolk camp—and not a few," said the aide at Albert’s side, crystal ball glimmering like trapped starlight.

"Oh? Then no wonder. The Seafolk are deep water, their methods many as currents," Albert paused, then frowned. "No. This is land—the Elf Race’s home ground."

"Except underground, there’s no large water source nearby," he said, thoughts cutting like a plow.

"Yes, sir."

"Then the Seafolk are walking into a slaughter. Why such a big impact? The elves had the upper hand not long ago," Albert murmured, doubt pooling like night.

"No. I must contact Ascaraun. We need to revisit the next step. I think the Elf Race is up to something."

"As you command."

The disrespectful "new recruit" who left Albert’s side slipped through the forest, turning left and right like a fox through bracken, then reached a clearing and doffed his hat.

Eli smoothed his hair, a sigh leaving him like steam. "The New Era Sect’s intel net is decent."

"And after all this digging, I only found the brightest candle—Albert," he said, wry as bitter tea.

He and Yor had agreed: if he intervened in the war, it’d be only through information, like a hand behind a curtain.

Then they’d sent him here, a chess piece set down like a quiet stone.

"This Ascaraun is a hard read," Eli muttered, brow tightening like drawn wire.

"Ah... with worlds shifting, everything’s a hassle; dig a little, and old monsters crawl up like eels from the mud."

"...Didn’t expect someone else here," he added, eyes sweeping the empty jungle like a hawk’s glide.

"Come on, then. I’ll play with you," Eli smiled, bright as a thin blade.

...

Angela’s eyes opened, and the diamond-shaped golden sigil on her brow burned like a sun you couldn’t meet.

"Why stare? I knew the moment you came in," Zero said, shrugging like a loose cloak.

"You think the Abyss spent all that effort sealing you and that other little fool for nothing? Please," Zero’s tone was helpless, like rain at dusk.

Angela looked at the two ready figures, and Akenachel spoke through her lips with a bitter smile, like frost on a flower. "Hero, spare me? I did serve you for years."

"Akenachel, don’t use Angela’s face and voice to say that," Zero sighed, helpless as a tied knot. "I can’t take it."

"How could I? Eli, you’re the best—please forgive me," Akenachel blurted, sweetness cloying like overripe fruit.

Zero and Janus shared a glance and sighed, breath twin waves. "Since you’re so keen to be Angela, we’ll grant you that last wish."

"What! What are you going to do?" Akenachel hovered, wary as a cornered bird.

"Mmm. What do you think?" Zero grinned, mischief sharp as a crescent blade, and closed in step by step.

"Wait! Wait—you don’t want to know about Edlyn—no, my sister—and our parents?" Akenachel yelped, panic scattering like beads.

Zero wouldn’t budge; he was stone in a river, and her words flowed around him.

She didn’t know what he meant to do; only a soul-deep fear spread inside her like cold water, inch by inch.

It dragged her back toward that dim world, a pit of night and fear, with Zero’s killing intent blowing over it like an icy wind.

"That? I’ll ask the Celestial God when I’m back," Zero said, voice casual as a leaf, blade hidden beneath. "Behave, and you’ll save yourself pain. Clear?"

He blinked, and in a breath he stood before her, his fingers brushing her cheek like the flat of a knife.

Janus frowned, lines sharp as ink. "Hey, perv, wait. If we’re doing this, do it right. Ok?"

Zero scratched his head, sheepish as a boy caught stealing fruit. "Fine. Fine."

"Why... why can’t I use any power?" Akenachel stared at her hands, panic crawling like ants under skin.

Since the Abyss cast her into sleep, she’d been off-kilter like a crooked compass; now, she couldn’t tell up from down.

Only her divine sense chimed like a funeral bell: from here on, Akenachel might cease to exist.

Zero stroked Angela’s hair and folded her into his arms, warmth wrapping her like a hearth. "Don’t be afraid, Angela. This big sister is kind."

"No... you can’t—you can’t make me and a mortal—no..." Akenachel’s terror swelled like a flood, and her voice broke like rotten wood.