“What is this thing?” Eli clenched his jaw, watching blue currents seep from the starry vault like icy rivers, pooling one by one inside his soul.

Each strand that entered stung like thorns waking old flesh, a forgotten ache blooming like frost under skin.

He stared, startled, at that blue glow, like frost-fire drifting through midnight water.

Could I really be coming back to life, like dawn cracking a sheet of winter ice?

The thought took his mind like a storm cloud swallowing the sky.

He roared in excitement, voice rolling like thunder over an empty plain.

Then the flow cut off, like a dam slammed shut in the dark.

Eli froze, like a deer catching a hunter’s breath on the wind.

He looked himself over; that strange blue power hadn’t even filled his right index finger, like ink failing to reach the tip of a brush.

He blinked and went silent, a gust cut short in a canyon.

Then he let out a long wail: “No—come on! I was wrong. I’ll stop showing off, okay?”

Outside the canyon that hid the Abyss Gate, the old headmaster coughed twice, tossing a thin sneer toward the stars like ash on the wind.

He lifted a withered finger and tapped toward Eli’s far-off place, like a conductor cueing a distant drum.

A vast, invisible force rose from his frail body like a tide without a moon, and streaked toward Eli like a blue comet.

Only after that did he exhale, slow as winter smoke; he glanced at his decaying shell and managed a small, satisfied smile.

“Time for old bones to leave the stage.” He nodded, like a leaf releasing itself to the stream.

His whole body blurred, then broke into a rain of light, flying toward the Sea of Death like a flock of fireflies.

That was his home, a shoreline written in salt and night.

And now, with this battered body, he would stand guard over his homeland like a lone pine in a storm.

On her stone throne, Edlyn felt it too; she sighed, gaze spearing the Abyss barrier like a ray of dawn, toward the land she had once yearned for.

“Thank you.”

After who knows how long, Eli used the nearby blue energies to finally “fill in” his soul, like patching cracked porcelain with glowing lacquer.

He looked himself over, then sagged a little, like a kite losing wind.

Stronger, sure—but still a soul-body, a shadow on glass.

He’d thought he’d revive; instead he was stuck half man, half ghost, like fog that won’t lift.

He sighed, cradled his head, and lay back to stare at the endless cosmos, a sea without shore.

Are they all right? The question drifted like a lone lantern.

His mood sank, heavy as rain.

Useless—he chewed the word like bitter rind—he messed up everything he touched.

From the start, it felt scripted: a born loser; the bright past, only bubbles in a black tide.

When Birand’s furious face and memories crashed against his soul and flesh like waves on a cliff, he finally understood.

All that resistance? Smoke and mirrors.

From the first step, everything he used was taken from Birand, like borrowed armor that never fit.

He had nothing but a withering soul, a candle guttering in a draft.

Ridiculous—he’d even hoped to defy Birand’s core persona, like a moth butting a bell.

Yes, Birand’s subconscious had tugged him along, but mostly it was his own stubborn spine, pushing him to dig for Birand’s memories like a miner in the dark.

Just then, what Ugillian had released finally reached Eli.

It flattened him like a giant truck roaring out of nowhere, a steel storm over soft earth.

His mind blacked out, quick as a snuffed wick.

When he woke, his soul floated inside a huge blue sphere of light, like a pearl trapped in the tide.

The orb drifted in the air, drinking star-power from every side like a thirsty root.

Eli blinked, baffled; what was this unseen force, this wind with no dust?

As he wondered, the old headmaster’s projection coalesced before him like moonlight on water; Ugillian smiled and dipped his chin.

“You— you’re—” Eli’s eyes widened, words tripping like stones.

“No time,” the old man said, voice calm as a bell. “I’ll tell you what you need. Then you’ll wait here.”

He wagged his forefinger, light dancing like a firefly.

Memories about Edlyn and Birand poured into Eli’s mind like a river of ink.

Tempered so long, Eli’s soul was iron-strong; he took it all in quickly, like a forge drinking coal.

He only looked at Ugillian and kept quiet, a mountain holding back thunder.

Ugillian smiled, ruffled his hair, warm as a hearth. “What’s wrong, brat? Still can’t swallow it?”

Eli shook his head, brow knotted like a tied cord. “No. Because of Edlyn, I don’t judge Fiends so hard. I just… feel like a fool.”

Ugillian chuckled, hands clasped behind his back, voice slow as falling snow. “Child, the three players at the board are either asleep or sealed. Escaping their great net isn’t easy. You weren’t wrong before; your map of the world was too small.”

“But look at me now,” Eli said through his teeth, unwilling as a hooked fish. “Doesn’t this mean I’m already out? What right do I have…?”

“Your soul’s growth isn’t just these few years,” Ugillian sighed, like wind through pines. “You and him spring from the same source. Don’t belittle yourself.”

“Rest easy. I’ll return what the Netherworld hasn’t stolen from your body and power, and with starlight, forge your flesh anew, like hammering steel from sky-fire. Your task is to become a new player. The Netherworld won’t spare the Celestial God or the Abyss. Be careful.”

“Now stay here, and draw what’s yours,” Ugillian said with a smile, like dawn promising heat.

Eli nodded hard, fists tight as knotted oak; he blew out a long breath. “I will.”

The projection began to fade, petal by petal; Ugillian looked Eli up and down.

A soul he’d tended for centuries, a sapling grown to a towering tree.

At the end, he nodded with a satisfied smile, like a gardener seeing first fruit.

Then a sly glint, an old fox’s grin crept in. “Kid, you know the Demon King’s current body is half human, half Succubus, right?”

Eli nodded lightly, like a reed in a breeze.

“Ever wonder why she hasn’t really shown a Succubus’s… traits?” The old fox’s grin sharpened.

“Uh… huh?”

“You know, ahem, those.” He coughed, eyes twinkling like mischief in lamplight.

“She said, since she’s the Demon King, she can suppress it…” Eli trailed off, narrowing his eyes at the old man, suspicion curling like smoke.

He wouldn’t bring this up just for laughs… would he?

“Heh-heh, suppress it, hmm?” Ugillian smiled wickedly, like a cat that knew the door was open.

“Here’s a reminder. Once she fully turns into a higher Fiend, her bloodline will erupt in a surge. She used to be of the Supreme Demon Ruler, so it was fine. But now she’s a Succubus. Even if her soul and blood echo the Supreme Demon Ruler, in essence she’s a Succubus. You get it~”

The old fox cackled and patted Eli’s shoulder, a drumbeat before a hunt.

Lines of exasperation practically slid down Eli’s face; he wasn’t that dense.

“Ai—Succubi,” Ugillian sighed, already paling to mist. “Like wolves in heat: clamp it all you want, there’s always a day it bursts. That’s a bandage, not a cure.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “All right, all right, go already, old man. I’ll remember to honor you.”

“Mm-hmm~ If you don’t want someone else to take advantage, hurry,” the old fox sing-songed. “One time might not even be enough~”

Eli’s expression tightened, nerves plucked like bowstring.

He remembered how Edlyn got when it hit—eyes smoky, voice like honey—an image that burned like wine.

Then he imagined her leaning on some stranger, and panic snapped open like a trap.

No way. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be sprouting a whole herd of horns.

He gritted his teeth, sat cross-legged, and drew in the surrounding power like a whirlpool taking rain.

Only then did Ugillian nod in true satisfaction, like a teacher closing a book.

His figure thinned to nothing and vanished, a candle finally at rest.

Eli opened his eyes, staring at the place where Ugillian had faded, voice trembling like a reed in wind. “Sigh… old man. Is this really goodbye?”

The Abyss.

It was the last moment of the Demon Race’s transformation, a tide about to turn.

Edlyn sat upright, yet her whole body felt wrong, a fever smoldering like late summer.

She didn’t know why.

Her little Succubus tail slid from under her skirt like a curious cat, flicking in the air with restless arcs.

Her small fiendish wings trembled, moth-fragile and humming.

Edlyn bit down, then slowly licked her lips, heat staining her breath like cinnamon smoke.

Her eyes went hazy; her head filled with images of Eli holding her, an embrace looping like a red string.

She snapped back, palms cracking her cheeks with two sharp slaps. “Focus! Focus! What pill did I take wrong?”

One hand cupped her hot, crimson cheeks like catching embers; the other clamped her fidgeting tail, while she bit her lip, aggrieved as a rain-drenched kitten.