The sky and the earth wore a pall of gray, ash draped over kiln and field. Edlyn drifted through a scene too familiar to name and let out a small sigh, like wind sliding through reed beds.

Soon, she’d reach the Abyssal River, the black vein that birthed the Demon Race.

This felt like the journey’s last marker, a stone set at the world’s ragged edge.

Edlyn drew closer, hesitation pooling in her chest like cold rain in a bowl.

Ugillian’s encouragement still rang by her ear, a bell in mist, but she couldn’t hear anymore.

She closed her eyes and walked by memory, a moth skimming walls in twilight.

When she judged she must be close, her outstretched hands met cold iron, winter biting skin.

She opened her eyes to two low iron doors, squat as tombstones in fog.

Within lay a colossal warding array, a net of light like frozen water. The only entry was the iron gate before her.

"Hey. Got nothing more to say?" Too long without Ugillian’s voice, Edlyn felt the silence itch like dry grass.

"Open it. I’ve said all I needed," Ugillian said, slow as dusk settling.

"But… how do I open it?" Edlyn frowned, brows knotted like twine.

"Just push. It isn’t locked," Ugillian chuckled, a thin ripple on still water.

"Hey, how do you know everything? And you said you’ve never been to the Abyss?" Edlyn arched a brow, a blade lifting from its sheath.

"Enough, little princess. Stop hunting for excuses. This is yours to face," Ugillian laughed, wind teasing a lantern.

Edlyn nodded, silent as falling snow.

She raised trembling hands and shoved the inner gate, muscles tight as reeds in a current.

"..." Edlyn stared, stunned, then clenched her fist, heat rising like sunrise behind clouds.

The sky-crowning giant tree born from the Abyssal River stood stripped; every leaf had fallen like burnt paper.

What remained clung to the canopy of massive branches, a ceiling over the sky—countless black cocoon-like pods.

Inside each huge cocoon, a pulse of energy and scent she knew too well lay wrapped, embers banked in ash.

They were her core forces, her spears sleeping in silk.

Tens of thousands still existed, a sea of hearts sealed in dusk.

Ugillian smiled and poured shards of memory into Edlyn’s mind, rain feeding a parched field.

His body began to age violently, time gnawing him like rust on iron.

Every muscle shrank, strings slackening like withered vines.

He looked like a human elder at death’s door, a candle guttering in draft.

He was all dead air, no breath of spring.

Ugillian smiled. "May you all succeed; let these seeds finally see rain. Then nothing breaks, and our labor bears fruit."

Edlyn wiped tears in bright relief, dew shining on grass.

Ugillian’s sudden words cut through her joy like a cold blade.

"Demonic Lord, rouse the fiendish qi in you. Wake the Demon Race. The Abyss spent long seasons cultivating this gift for you," Ugillian’s voice rasped, low as gravel under wheels.

Edlyn paused, stunned, then nodded, quiet as night water.

No words were needed; she could guess what Ugillian had spent, a lamp burning out its oil.

At the bronze gate, her strength hadn’t been enough to open the Abyss’s door, hands pressed against a mountain.

She’d never refined her own fiend origin, the seed in her marrow.

Of course, that failed the Abyss’s demand, a vow left half-spoken.

But Ugillian poured his Divinity’s base rank—the foundation that crystallizes Divinity into a godseat—into the bronze gate, molten gold into a waiting mold.

Only then did the doors open, petals parting for dawn.

After that, he forced his soul through the Abyss’s spatial seal, and kept cheering her on, a drumbeat in fog.

He gifted her so many memories from different angles, mirrors set in a long hall.

Edlyn bowed deeply to the doorway, a reed bending to wind.

"Thank you."

"Heh. Don’t thank me. I did it for our lineage to continue."

Ugillian paused, drew a breath, then went on. "The Demon Race must become Fiend to be true Demon."

"Three hundred million years ago, we Fiends burned our boats and fought the Celestial Realm in full. Stars fell like embers; our strength was spent."

"Few Fiends remain; the torch passes to your Demon Race."

"Edlyn, release the fiendseed the Abyss left. Then wait for your race and you to change, spring pressing buds."

Edlyn nodded.

Ugillian smiled. "By the way, there’s more you need to know."

"Eh?"

...

Eli’s expression looked odd, like a mask cracked at the cheek.

He spoke within, wordless as a river under ice: I don’t want you to become that cruel Demon King again.

Edlyn glanced at the black sword, dark as a moonless river, and pondered. "Hero, without him, I still have a way. I can use my Holy Sword to find the Tree of Life."

Eli blinked, cocked his head. "Why didn’t you say so earlier?"

"Because. It’s a bit…" Edlyn fumbled for words, fish slipping from wet hands.

Eli half-joked. "Alright then, tell me your way first."

"Blood-sacrifice a hundred thousand lives. Then my Holy Sword can—" Edlyn said, face solemn as stone at noon.

"...Heh, you do love jokes," Eli cut in, laughter brittle as dry reeds.

Edlyn fell silent, knowing his cut meant he didn’t want to hear more, a door shut with soft dust.

Eli felt a small relief, sunlight threading a break in cloud. She was considering his feelings.

"Eli, I’ve held something in for long. I want to ask," Edlyn lifted her gaze, sudden as a swallow’s turn.

"Mm?" Eli smiled, then looked at her seriously. He knew some things need frank light, like a window swung open.

"Your swordwork and body arts—who taught you?" Edlyn asked, focus sharp as a drawn bow.

"You know I’m the Hero reborn. I got them from shards of my past-life memories," Eli said with a light smile.

Edlyn said, "Eli, listen. If possible, don’t absorb Birand’s memories again. They’ll warp you, dye clouding clear water."

"Oh-ho, looks like you know quite a lot, little girl," Eli said, pinching her cheek, fingers like playful breeze.

"Really, trust me!" Seeing his careless look, Edlyn grew anxious, heartbeat drumming under silk.

Eli smiled and patted her head, smoothing fur on a skittish cat. "Alright, alright, I know. Thanks for caring." (Tch. Who’s caring, anyway.)

Eli’s color dimmed a shade, dusk licking the horizon.

He could guess it, a map inked before him.

Everything Edlyn was getting had been hers already, a buried seed sprouting at last.

Now she was only reclaiming it, retrieving a blade from an old scabbard.

But when that time came, could he still like this girl? The question hovered like smoke.

Eli clenched his teeth. He knew the answer was yes. He wouldn’t forget her, his vow firm as iron chain.

Only, what could he do now to share the foolish girl’s burden, taking a corner of the sky on his shoulders?

...

Hero, I don’t know why. In the last life, you killed me.

By all rules I should hate you to the marrow, think each day of carving you into a thousand cuts, and watch you die off the path.

Yet, somehow, till now, I don’t truly hate you, the feeling soft as thawing snow.

I’m just… unwilling to yield. Since you beat me once, I’ll beat you in turn.

Wait well. When my army descends like storm banners, tremble before our noble shadows.

I didn’t write this to brag about my schemes (struck out).

No, I did write it to brag my IQ’s higher than yours! (Eli right now is wearing that fond-aunt grin.)

Fine. Truth is, I keep favors and grudges straight. Though we have a blood feud...

Thank you for over a year of care. I botched things and became half-human, half-Succubus; thanks to your blood, lantern oil in a long night, I stayed clear till now.

I won’t need you after this. With my demonic soul awake, a mere Succubus won’t sway me. And don’t mistake this for an explanation.

Thank you for caring for my sister for more than a year. She’s an ordinary human, not of the Demon Race.

I had hoped you’d keep watching over her. But feelings are strange; I can’t cut this red thread. So don’t mistake her. She truly is human. When war opens, please don’t harm her.

Hero, my happiest moment this life might be the news that you died too, joy bitter-sweet as wine.

Well, I don’t know why my tone’s a mess. I won’t write more.

If we meet again, you and I must be enemies, blades crossing like lightning.

Last…

Eli, thank you.

But... goodbye.

Eli stared at the so-called farewell letter, eyes stones under rain.

Pain sliced his heart, knives hidden under silk.

It felt like a pig he’d raised for long suddenly got a virus, then ran off to bash around, muddy hooves on everything.

"Sigh... What should I do... I don’t want this. I really don’t."

...

Before Edlyn could sink into emotion, another memory surged in, a wave shouldering into a cove.

...

"The structure needs to go like this," Birand said, holding the blueprint like a spiderweb and pointing for the dwarf designers nearby.

"And try not to add gunpowder if you can avoid it," Birand said, brows furrowing like storm lines on the sea.

The dwarf craftsmen froze, then asked, "Without gunpowder, how will it have enough power?"

"Eh, with gunpowder it might blow its barrel early," Birand shrugged, shoulders rolling like careless waves.

The dwarves studied the blueprint, minds fogged like cloudy glass.

In their framework of structural analysis, a super-weapon like this shouldn’t suffer such a low-level barrel burst, logic mountain-solid.

"Ay, trust me," Birand shrugged helplessly. "I brought the basics of this thing. You gotta believe me."

"Alright then," the dwarves said, half-trusting, and carried off the ammo blueprints for the Godslaying Ballista, miners descending into a new vein.

Birand sneered oddly. If you kill the Demon King like this, where will I find supreme merit? Where will I find another boss, another stage with curtains?

Birand met eyes across distance with Demon King Pandora and felt brimming ambition, two hawks sizing each other in high air. "Well, Demonic Lord, meeting me is your misfortune. Hero versus Demon King—it’s... sigh, inevitable."

Not far off, Pandora didn’t know what Birand was thinking. He simply stood, feeling the nearby ripples of mana and magic, tides in a dark bay.

Ugillian’s voice flowed in, slow as smoke from wet wood.

"From his first fusion with Birand’s memories, every moment he’s been subtly altered by a power that isn’t his, ivy creeping over stone."

"Birand wants challenge through you, to earn his own merit. In his eyes, you are a pawn, nothing."

Edlyn was wordless, silence a cup with no tea.

As expected, it still came down to herself... a mirror showing only one face.

"But the moment he knew you were Demon King, he didn’t change at all. I think you’ll make your choice, right?" Ugillian smiled, a crescent in twilight.

These were things he insisted on giving, gifts pressed like seal-script on jade.

The Abyss wants Edlyn to become that cold-blooded monster, frost laid over a field.

But he didn’t want the child he’d nurtured for centuries to live uncomfortable, a flower kept under a lid.