The white‑haired girl fished out a pocket watch, its hands ticking like a beetle on glass, and murmured a countdown. Ten... nine... eight...

A prickle crawled over Angelo’s skin like cold dew on stone. Unease first, then motion. She lifted her head, brows knotted, scanning the air like a hawk seeking a shadow.

Her gaze snagged on the horde’s rear like a hook on silk.

The white‑haired girl sat on a rock like a gull on a pier, legs kicking at the empty air, pocket watch in hand, grinning at some private mischief.

Angelo narrowed her eyes, etching the girl’s features into her mind like a seal pressed in wax.

Surprise flared like a struck spark. Her lips parted. She glanced at the cocoon that was Edlyn, fingers on her chin, thoughts coiling like smoke.

That girl carried the Demon Race’s blood, yet other lines braided through it like foreign threads in a loom. Not quite human.

Could she be... His Majesty’s daughter?

Angelo’s gaze combed the girl from head to toe like a brush through reeds.

The white‑haired girl felt that stare like sunlight on her back. She lifted her face to Angelo.

Her eyes lit like finding a gemstone in sand. She waved her small hand, bright as a fluttering pennant.

Angelo blinked, confusion rippling like circles on a pond. The kid looked like she knew her. How?

Her thoughts scattered like startled birds. The girl dropped her head again and watched the pocket watch.

Three... two... one! Boom! The girl sprang up, arms flung wide like a gull riding wind, a smile blooming like spring.

Angelo stared, doubt pooling like ink.

Then the sky itself cracked with a blast, like thunder tearing a canvas.

Boom.

A shockwave rolled out like a tidal bore, rippling the air in rings.

Angelo’s gut tightened like a clenched fist. She shouted, voice a bronze bell. Form up! Protect His Majesty the Demon King!

Powers flared like lanterns in a storm. Fiendish arts braided a shell, layer upon layer, wrapping the space around Edlyn.

The shockwave arrived like a hammer to a shield.

Angelo planted her right fist behind her like an anchor. Her left palm rose like a gate. Her voice cut like a blade. Seal!

A flood of demonic aura howled from her like a winter gale. It slammed the oncoming wave like surf against a cliff.

The tremor shuddered for mere heartbeats, then faded like rain into sand.

As defenses eased like lifted shutters, a shaft of sunlight speared down through the Abyssal sky, a golden needle threading the Abyssal River.

This was a pocket the Abyss had woven, an extra space with no true heavens, just black water and endless night.

The air above the Abyssal River was the Abyss itself, a throat of darkness without a sun.

Yet now, light fell from nowhere like a stray arrow through fog.

Fiends tilted their heads like a field of sunflowers, eyes on the strange beam.

Angelo’s heart sank like a stone into deep water. Bad omen.

This was the last beat before the Demon King’s awakening. The Abyss should have been ironclad. Instead, foreign things crawled in like ants under a door.

First that girl. Then this light.

The earlier thunder was the beam punching through the Abyss’s seal, space shaking like a drum.

Angelo’s eyes thinned like a bowstring. She felt the girl’s odd rhythm again, and aura surged in her palm like ink spilling.

Did the brat call this here? Damn it.

The girl watched the light with the joy of a child chasing fireflies.

The earlier shockwave had brushed past her like wind through reeds. Not a ripple stirred in her aura, like the wave had simply ignored her.

Angelo’s core tightened like a drawn knot. Not an ordinary master, then.

The light grew, a comet tail cleaving through dark like a silver scythe.

Angelo clicked her tongue, dropping the girl from her mind like a hot coal. She sprinted back to the Demon Race ranks, voice a whip. Move! That thing’s aiming for His Majesty! Form up, now!

An o glowed between her brows like a branded glyph.

Angelo rose into the air like a kite on a hard wind.

The Demon Race’s demonic qi roared like a black river. It surged toward her, feeding her like tributaries to a sea.

She sketched sigils in the sky, strokes bright as fireflies. Then she punched at the incoming light like a catapult let fly.

Sigils streaked toward the comet‑beam like meteors against a starfall.

The beam ignored them like rain ignores ants, and kept screaming toward the Fiends.

Hold! Angelo’s teeth ground like gravel. Her shout cracked like thunder.

Wham. The beam hit their formation like a boulder into ice, the blast rolling out in waves.

The white‑haired girl snapped her pocket watch up like a priest lifting a talisman.

The watch thrummed like a plucked string. A blue shield bloomed like a jellyfish, and the rushing force broke on it like foam.

The shockwave blew past the Fiends like wind through pines, then punched into Edlyn’s cocoon.

The scarlet cocoon shuddered like a struck drum, a crack crawling across it like a pale worm.

Thousands of Fiends staggered like reeds in a gust, but only lightly wounded, blood like dew.

Eyes swung to the “meteor” that had smashed the Abyssal seal, the thing at their center like an iron nail.

Up close, it was clearly a man, sprawled face‑down in a spread‑eagle like a fallen starfish, limbs etched in dust.

Angelo had been knocked aside by him like a skiff by a drifting log. She’d stood at the tip of the spear, so she took the brunt.

She rubbed her aching backside like soothing a bruise, jaw tight as a vise.

If the thing hadn’t lost nine‑tenths of its power breaking the Abyss, this freshly revived Fiend would’ve died to a falling fool.

That would’ve been the funniest joke this world had ever spat up.

Demon brass wiped out by a meteor before they even showed their faces.

Ha. Ha. Ha...

What kind of sick joke is this! She wanted to flip the damned table right into the sky.

Angelo spat a mouthful of blood like a splash of wine, eyes burning at the “meteor” like coals in a brazier.

After a long ring of silence, the “man” stirred like a snail after rain.

He pushed himself up, muttering like a bear out of hibernation. That hit was insane. If I hadn’t triggered the Stellar Power mid‑fall, I might’ve died.

Angelo saw his face and her mouth twitched like a plucked string. Oh, come on. That f—ing Hero?

Eli turned, blinked like an owl, scratched his head like a puzzled dog. Hello. What’s your dear mom’s last name?

..................................................................

Far away in the Inferno, the world breathed only wind like knives and stone like bones.

Life had fled. Only the howl of air, strange rocks like crouched beasts, and six statues in a ring remained.

Inside one statue’s stone, red energy writhed like a trapped flame, crushed under black energy like night pressing on a candle.

Birand sat within the seal like a spider in amber. He fused flesh and power grain by grain, and hammered Ugillian’s seal with spare force, a drumbeat in the dark.

His eyes cracked open like old doors. Hatred pooled in them like ink. Someone touched my seal? After all these years. I left the Celestial God half‑alive and chained, yet something still brushed the lock?

Birand, never mind that. Impatience scraped like sand in the next voice, a mingled male‑female whisper behind him, cold as a draft in a tomb.

Birand frowned, the line deep as a carved groove. You won’t show yourself to help, and you dare demand?

I can’t step into the Inferno. If I do, the Abyss will rouse like a sleeping beast kicked. That risk is foolish. Do you want me dead before we move the board? The voice floated like smoke.

Hah. Useless thing. Birand’s laugh was a blade on stone.

Heh. Right back at you. The voice smiled like frost.

Remember, your time is short. Drag those two from their slumbering beds. Do it, or the tide turns.

Birand’s eyes narrowed like slits. Scorn hung on him like a cloak. Spare me the sermon. Get lost.

Heh heh heh. Such a temper. The voice faded like mist.

Tch. Birand’s breath was a snarl, then silence deepened like a well.

..................................................................

...So. You’re Angelo? And you demons all got resurrected? Eli pressed fingers to his brow like holding back a headache, eyes skimming a crowd with more women than men, a tide of faces.

I heard you bent the knee to His Majesty the Demon King. I’ll let the old mess slide. Killing you now wastes fighting strength. Angelo clapped once, voice cool as ice on steel.

You? Kill me? Eli’s grin tilted like a knife. Don’t make me laugh. Look at yourself. I could give you both my hands and you still couldn’t win.

You— Angelo’s anger flared like a torch.

Enough. I’m not sparring words. Where’s my Demon King? Eli cut in, impatience snapping like a flag.

Your Demon King? Who do you think you are? Angelo’s smile was winter.

Tch. No time to bicker. I need to see how Edlyn is. Eli shot her a look like a tossed pebble, pure annoyance.

Angelo smothered the killing urge like a coal under ash, and pointed toward Edlyn.

Eli followed the line of her finger, eyes narrowing like shutters. You mean that pink egg?

Ignorant. Angelo’s sneer was a blade dipped in frost.

Eli ignored her and walked straight toward the cocoon, steps steady as a metronome.

The white‑haired girl popped up in front of him like a rabbit from brush, waggling fingers. Daddy~ remember me?

Eli raised a brow like a lifting curtain, then nodded once. It’s you. Little rascal. Noted. When my future self gets here, I’m giving you a proper spanking.

Anna hunched her shoulders like a turtle and laughed weakly. I was just curious. Honest.

You can’t just run wild through time. No way my future self let you hop back and make a mess. Eli’s glare was a thunderhead.

Anna ducked, fingers twisting his sleeve like ivy. I know I was wrong...

Eli rapped her head lightly like knocking a melon, then strode for Edlyn.

Anna clambered up him with practiced ease like a cat up a tree, and perched on his head.

Eli’s face went black as stormwater. How old are you? Get down. Now.

What’s it matter? Anna giggled like wind chimes.

Eli shook his head and plucked her off like burrs, tossing her aside with care. He stepped to the giant cocoon, laid a hand on its shell, palm gentle as falling snow. Edlyn. I’m here.

Crack.

At his touch, the shell split like ice in spring, a line crawling outward.

Eli stared, face blank as paper, and looked at Angelo. What did I just do?

Angelo’s eyes went wide like lanterns. How would I know? Did you screw something up?

The cocoon shattered like a clay pot, and red mist spilled like spilled wine, veiling every gaze with a soft shroud.

Eli’s heart kicked like a deer. He searched the fog for Edlyn, urgency burning like a torch.

He found her standing naked amid the haze like a new moon behind clouds, eyes wandering, lost.

He whipped out a garment like drawing a cloak from thin air, and draped it over her like a shield. Thank the mist, or I’d be plucking eyes today.

Edlyn wriggled like a restless fish, warmth rising off her like dawn.

Eli scooped her up, dressed her with careful hands, and smiled like sunlight through leaves. Edlyn. It’s me.

She lifted her face, a touch of haze in her gaze like morning fog, then joy burst like a flower. She hugged Eli, kissed his cheek, and spoke in a soft, childish lilt. Daddy~

Ah?????

Far off, Anna smothered laughter like a thief hiding bells. So Dad wasn’t lying. My prickly mom really did call him “Daddy” once.