“Alright. That’s about all I can say. Time’s thinning like dusk smoke. Ai-chan.” Eli’s phantom glanced at the sky like a torn silk canopy, then faced forward again.

Edlyn lifted her chin, eyes catching the pale cloud-light.

Their gazes bridged the miles like a thread of moonlight, and locked.

“Take care of yourself. Win or lose.” Eli’s smile was a warm ember in winter wind. “If we win, I’ll come back and look after you.”

He raised a hand, fingers hovering like a moth seeking flame.

Edlyn stepped closer, dazed, staring as if at a mirage over water.

Eli cupped his hands beneath her cheeks, a cradle of warmth under frost. He kept smiling. “If I lose, still take care of yourself. Don’t come to the Underworld to find me. Maybe I’ll get another life.”

He laughed softly, and the phantom unraveled in the breeze like drifting ash.

Edlyn stood rooted, face streaked like rain on stone.

Who knew how long the silence lay like fog.

Yiyi came upstairs with a cup of tea, steam curling like a willow strand, and paused at her door.

Her knuckles lifted to knock—then a clear, sorrow-bright laugh spilled from inside, like a bell ringing under water.

Edlyn smiled at the space where Eli’s image had faded, the air still trembling like a plucked string.

She tilted her head; her silver-white hair fell like a waterfall. She tucked it behind her ear and murmured, “Ah, you bastard. I’ve known you so long. I always thought you were just a carefree fool.”

She paused, raised a sleeve like a cloud and wiped her tears. “Turns out you really are a heartless fool. You never even thought about how I felt.”

“I stuck to you, and you nitpicked this and that, teaching me human noble manners. Do you know how much I scorn that? It tastes like stale tea.”

“If you were a little gentler with me, maybe I’d be a little gentler with you.” Her voice wavered like river light.

“You keep the Hero on your lips every day. It drones like a mosquito.”

“Every time you fuse memories, you faint for ages. It twists the gut like cold iron. Do you have any idea?”

“Why do you always do those things to me? (Don’t get the wrong idea—like hugging my little feet and such, nothing dirty~) Do you know I look like a human little girl right now? You’re over the line.”

“You’re weak, you know. Head-on, you never truly finish the enemy. Every time you drag me and my sister and run like spooked deer.”

“Cooking well—what’s the use? You’re a mage, not a chef. A good stew won’t block a blade.”

“And your mouth is so annoying. I swear I want to smash your skull with the Holy Sword.”

Yiyi froze at the door, as if pinned by snow. “...”

She and Eli shared the same source soul, only the vessel had shifted, like wine poured into a new cup.

Yiyi sighed, leaned against the wooden door, and slid down, a falling leaf.

At heart, she probably liked Edlyn too. The feeling clung like mist.

“Hey. Why do you keep saving me? Aren’t you the Hero? Didn’t you know I’m the Demon King? Why save me anyway?” Her voice broke like a cracked flute.

“Hey, I left your side without asking. Wouldn’t you be upset? Why?” The questions scattered like sparrows.

“You could have gone to ground, waited to hammer Birand hard at the right moment. Why not? You could’ve avenged me then.” Her breath came sharp, like sleet.

Edlyn cried out, voice raw, echoing like wind in a narrow hall.

She slowly crouched, folding in on herself like a fern. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry... I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was dragging you down. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The words fell like beads on a string.

Yiyi sighed again and pushed the door open, a ripple through quiet water.

Edlyn startled, scrubbing at her face as if erasing ink.

“What are you doing,” she said, cold as a blade edge.

Yiyi frowned, teeth to lip like a bitten plum. “Hey, Ai-chan, the original me never blamed you. You can’t do this. Don’t drown yourself.”

Edlyn lifted her gaze, baffled, like a deer in lantern light.

At the staircase, Liqianyu rushed in, iron impatience ringing like a struck gong. He grabbed Yiyi by the collar.

“I’m drunk on your stupidity. What kind of straight-man brain is that? You’re still spitting ‘blame blame blame’ right now? Is that human speech, huh?” His words snapped like dry twigs.

Yiyi clutched her head, glowering. “Hey! Why are you so worked up?! None of your damn business! Eavesdropping and you think you’re right now?”

“None of my business? You little brat, I— I can’t even...” His breath huffed like a bull.

“You! What! You’re just a sneaky eavesdropper.” Yiyi bared her teeth, a small fox bristling.

Liqianyu cracked his knuckles, smile sly as a knife under silk. “Well now... little Yiyi, you never learn. I just managed to make you a bit different from that idiot original, and you still won’t change.”

“Hey! What are you doing! I’ll scream harassment!” Yiyi crossed her arms over her chest, wary as a cat.

Edlyn watched them, blew her nose like a flustered child. Her voice still carried a tear-sob tremble, half crying, half laughing. “Enough, both of you. Get out.”

They scattered like birds under a stone, whooshing down the hall.

Edlyn tilted her head and sighed, breath a shaded pool.

“So this is the orphanage Eli once lived in?” Liqianyu eyed the gate stamped with a church sigil, and the two modest villas beyond, outlined like quiet hills.

“Doesn’t feel like an orphanage at all,” he muttered, gaze sweeping like a broom.

“What feeling do you want? It’s always been like this,” Yiyi shrugged, the motion light as grass. “Also—how many times have I said it—it’s a welfare home.”

Liqianyu pouted, dragging the word like mud. “Emmmmm, not a single kid trying to escape. Boring. I wanted cruel regimes, secret tunnels, plans scratched under bunks.” His fantasy sagged like wet paper.

“Hey, you’ve read too many trashy books, huh?” Yiyi arched a brow, a crane’s chill. “Where’s that level of darkness?”

“Tch. So it’s dull.” Liqianyu slumped, spirit leaking like stale wine.

Edlyn ignored him and led the way inside, steps careful as stepping stones.

The moment Angela crossed the gate, a foul aura surged like swamp gas. She winced, brow knotting tight, hand to head, fingers hooking Edlyn’s hem like a lifeline.

“Sis... sister. I’m dizzy.” Her voice fluttered like a moth.

Edlyn frowned, scooped Angela into her arms, eyes scanning her pale face like a healer’s lantern. “Where do you feel bad?”

“Just... so dizzy...” Angela bit her lip. A pallor slid over her like chalk dust.

Edlyn’s brows locked, iron latches. “Something’s wrong here. We’re leaving.”

“No need...” A young girl’s voice rose from the crook of Edlyn’s embrace, clear as a winter spring.

Edlyn turned, spine taut as a bow.

Angela’s pupils flooded with gold, like molten sunrise.

A holy aura billowed off her, pushing back the Abyssal miasma that seeped from Edlyn’s body, light against smoke.

“This is...” Edlyn’s breath thinned.

“Long time no see, Demonic Lord.” The greeting fell like a bright coin.

Edlyn’s pupils tightened; frost and killing intent iced over her face like a sudden winter. “You seized control of my sister?”

Akenachel waved quickly, a bitter smile, palms open like empty birds. “I wouldn’t dare. This place suddenly pressed Angela’s consciousness down. I came out to protect the body and her soul.”

“...What’s going on?” Edlyn’s tone was a steel wire.

Akenachel bit her lip, then pointed toward a small house beside the two villas, a quiet tooth in the yard. “Over there. Something wants me to bring you to him.”

The others traded bewildered looks, faces written in question marks like scattered leaves.

Edlyn simply nodded, breath steady as tide. “Lead the way.”

“Oooh...” Akenachel felt her soul syncing ever tighter with Angela’s, the fit closing like a clasp. She sighed, a petal falling.

Edlyn felt it too and gave a small nod. The old choice was paying off like a seed sprouting.

She bent once, back then, and stroked Akenachel’s hair like silk. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll erase that memory for you now. From this moment, you’re my sister.”

Edlyn’s smile was sweet as spring tea.

Akenachel had lifted her eyes then, a hint of self-mockery flickering like a shadow. She nodded, helpless as a tied boat.

She couldn’t tamper with her own soul, couldn’t seal that piece of memory. Her whole self belonged to the Celestial God, a chain in the sky.

Only Edlyn, steeped in the Abyss, could do it—could press down the last shred of the Celestial God’s will like a lid over boiling water.

What’s the big deal—merging with a little girl. No mountain collapsing. She still had a chance to flip the table, or so she told herself.

Akenachel now pointed the way in silence, finger a reed in wind.

Flip the table? She was about to become someone else’s chip. The irony stung like nettles.

She had underestimated these monsters. That miscalculation was a thorn.

Zero had warned her back then. Pity wrapped it all like old cloth.

“You think the Abyss busted its guts sealing you and that other fool for nothing?” Zero’s voice had been dry thunder. “Honestly.”

Angela had watched Zero and Janus gear up, metal whispers like cold rain. “Hero, can you spare me? I served you for years.” Her smile had been brittle as thin ice.

“Akenachel, stop using Angela’s face and voice for that. I can’t take it.” Zero sighed, a wind through reeds.

Zero and Janus shared a look, breath heavy as a door. “If you want to be Angela so badly, we’ll grant you that last wish.”

“What! What are you going to do!” Akenachel floated higher, wary as a hawk, eyes like glass.

“Mhm. What do you think?” Zero’s grin was a hook under velvet, his steps closing in like tide.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t you want to know what happened with Edlyn—no, Sister—and my parents?!” Panic rushed up, a surge from the pit.

Zero didn’t buy it. Fear swelled in her soul like ink. The feeling crawled back to that dim world, all dark and dread.

“That? I’ll ask the Celestial God when I get back.” Zero’s voice went soft and cold. “Be good, and you won’t suffer flesh pain. Understand?”

He blurred, a flash-step like lightning, and appeared before her, hand brushing her cheek like a cold petal.

In the small house, an old man leaned on a cane, breath frayed like unraveling thread.

He looked ready to die, like a candle guttering.

He smiled toward the approaching group, eyes crinkling like worn parchment, and nodded gently.

“At last,” he murmured, voice like a final bell. “You’ve come.”