“Maybe this is all it ever was.” The ruler of Aile’s royal house shook his head, like a lone reed bowing to wind, weariness pooling in his eyes.

He half-knelt on churned earth, staring at a field strewn with comrades’ bodies, sorrow settling over him like winter ash.

“Many things were decided long ago. I thought Aile could lead humanity, yet in the end power drifts back to the Church like a tide.” His face went gray.

“Your Majesty… let’s go.” A personal guard wiped sticky blood from his armor, breath heavy as smoke, and moved to lift the Emperor of Aile.

Aile said nothing, letting his soldier carry him, their ragged band retreating like a broken flock into the mist of defeat.

Across the battlefield, Manstein stood in armor bright as a dawn blade, a pillar against storm, his stance feeding sunlight into the men behind him.

Clerics, priests, and paladins straightened like fields after rain; with Manstein here, victory felt ironclad, a wall no wave could breach.

His face was carved calm, but inside his sighs moved like hidden tides; an old rival had finally been swept away, leaving only a chill of absence.

The Hero will soon use the human race as a spear against the Celestial God. If I do this, will heaven brand me for it?

Manstein lifted his gaze to the endless vault, shut his eyes, and let the sky’s vastness settle in his chest like mountains.

Clouds thickened like ink. Rain fell hard and fast, washing a small, stubborn flame inside him down to ember.

He opened his eyes; two cool streams ran into his mouth—rain or tears—and a faint bitterness bloomed like tea gone cold.

Above, Birand sat upon the clouds, gaze glacial as deep water, watching Manstein and his army under the curtain of rain.

He saw that look, nodded the smallest wave of a leaf, then flicked his sleeve and vanished like mist at sunrise.

Manstein shook his head with a crooked smile. “Heaven will punish me. It will.”

He steadied himself as a blade finds its sheath, then raised his voice to the generals. “Everyone! We won!”

OHHHH!

“From today, the Holy Court Church is the true helm of humanity. Before the great calamity cracks this sky, we lead by example. Understood?”

OHHH!

“Remember this. Starting now, we protect the children. We help farmers raise shelter and walls. I’ll roll out the rest step by step.” Manstein smiled, a lantern in storm.

Men traded glances, their eyes fluttering like startled sparrows, unsure of the bishop’s change of wind.

But better to move than let rot seep in. Their voices rose again, a drumbeat riding the rain.

Inside the imperial capital of Holy Paris.

“What was that stunt? Are you mad?” An elder glared at Manstein slumped on the main seat, disapproval sharp as sleet.

“You weaken noble rights now to reward peasants? The nobles just handed you the human realm!” He slammed the table—thud—anger spiking like a spear.

Manstein’s eyes cooled, a winter river. Silence crept through the hall like frost climbing pillars.

Only when the elder’s blaze faltered did he feel the cold burrow to bone, and he swallowed, throat dry as dust.

“I’m thinking of the greater whole,” he stammered, voice thin as paper. “Without the nobles, the Church can’t truly govern humanity!”

Manstein didn’t answer. His smile tilted, the kind a cat wears for a clown. “It’s not your place to steer my hand.”

“You—!” The elder bellowed to drown the fear gnawing at him, sound cracking like overstrung wire.

Manstein’s laugh was a blade’s whisper. He raised his right hand and struck with an open palm.

Pale-gold power flowered into a giant hand and flew from him like a falcon.

The elder sprang up, weaving his strength into a barrier, a glass dome glinting under torchlight.

The golden hand met it—crack—and then, to gasps, slid through as if water through reeds, passed through the elder, and hammered the doors.

The doors powdered to dust, drifting away with the draft like ash from a funeral pyre.

The elder gulped, eyes wide as moons. “You… you…”

His body popped like a buried charge. Boom. Flesh and blood spattered the walls like thrown paint.

The council chamber froze, all eyes on the bishop at the main seat, fear pooling like oil.

Manstein nodded, stood, his voice iron under storm. “These are extreme times, and we need extreme measures. From now on, all matters, all armies, all supplies fall under me—Pope Manstein. Any objections?”

Heads shook in unison, reeds bowing in gale. “We wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” He dipped his chin. “Put your full strength into screening children across human lands. Bring them under the Church’s light. Save as many sparks as you can. All clerics gather in Holy Paris.”

“When every child is sheltered, shut the Church’s doors. Hold fast to our future like fire cupped in both hands.”

Another exchange of looks—fish flicking in a net—uncertainty rippling the room.

A woman stood. Manstein met her gaze, and she bowed like a willow.

“What is your question?”

“Bishop… are we about to face something?” Her voice tiptoed, a sparrow on ice.

Manstein’s face darkened, storm rolling in. “Truthfully, a disaster greater than the Demon Race turmoil is about to break over us. From now, mobilize everything, protect the ember of human civilization.”

“So that even if we fail, humanity still threads forward like a river finding new banks.”

“Is it… that serious?” She faltered, stunned as if snow fell at midsummer.

“When have I lied to you? Why else would I cut noble power? The cliff is here. My kin… the cliff is here.”

“For our future, I, Manstein, beg you—drop your grudges. We cannot let humanity vanish like smoke.”

“The human war wrapped up too fast, far beyond our forecasts.” A Seafolk general sighed, voice rolling like low surf.

“Our Seafolk clans aren’t settled, and those land apes stopped fighting. Can’t stand them.” A mermaid beside him spoke, tail flicking like a silver pennant.

“By the way, I heard a human broke into Crab Clan waters, cut his way through, and left with one of their little crabs?”

“Yeah. The sea’s boiling with that story. How do you not know?” The mermaid snorted, a bubble popping.

“The Crab Clan got unlucky. They waited months at an interspace gate to snatch treasure, then lined up like offerings to get carved. Impressive in the worst way.”

“I’d say their future ends here.” The mermaid’s smile curved like a hook.

“Also… did you feel a surge of life lately? Something keeps calling me to land.” The Seafolk general frowned, eyes narrowing like shutters.

“Sure did. Brother, your news is barnacled. The Sea Emperor said heaven announced our rise.” She waved, foam-bright and amused.

“That excuse is barn-old.” He sighed, air leaking like a tired bellows.

“Our war’s at the final knots anyway. The Giant Squid already calls himself Sea Emperor.”

“Mm.”

“Let’s not chew this further. Wars gnaw every shore. Days are rough like salt on wounds.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Hey, I haven’t seen you before.” The general grinned, teeth white as shell.

The mermaid shrugged, shoulders rippling like water. “I was just sent down to help you. First time meeting.”

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“Uh… so.” Eli licked his lips, glancing at Liqianyu, whose calm was a lake without ripples.

“What?” Her tone sharpened like a pebble flicked from fingers. “You’ve stared five minutes. Do I have pockmarks or stars on my face?”

“No… no.” Eli scratched his head, awkward as a dog in rain.

“Then spit it out.” Liqianyu frowned, brows drawing like tight reins. “Don’t just hover.”

“It’s… how you saved me.” Eli exhaled, the memory soft as fog, unreal as a dream.

“Eh? I pumped you energy. What else?” Liqianyu shrugged, loose as willow branches in wind.

“How did you pump it?” Eli pressed, curiosity pricking like thorns.

“You’re irritating.” Liqianyu clicked her tongue, impatience like sparks. “Rest’s over—we’re moving. I’m going to see little Edlyn. Don’t waste daylight.”

“Ah… fine.” Eli sighed, letting it drift like steam.

If she won’t say, why chase smoke? He pulled the three of them up, and they took to the sky like swallows.

Angela sensed the ripple between them, eyes narrowed like a fox at dusk. “What’s with you two?”

Liqianyu shot Eli a look sharp as glass, then shrugged. “Some people don’t repay kindness. I save him, he skips thanks and starts grilling me. What’s jammed in that head?”

“...Sorry. Thank you.” Eli let out another sigh, helpless as a leaf in current.

“Tch. Perfuntory.” Liqianyu turned away, scorn a small blade.

Angela stayed wary, gaze reading lines like ink. “That’s all?”

“What else?” Liqianyu glared, eyes flashing like sparks. “So young, and your brain’s full of junk. Learn something proper.”

She reached out and flicked Angela’s forehead—thunk—light as tapping bamboo.

“Hey, I’ve only learned from you these years. Crooked beam, crooked rafters.”

“Must you drag me down with you?” Liqianyu blew out a breath, heat fading like embers.

Angela grinned, a cat in sun, then went quiet, the air smoothing like silk.

Liqianyu eased inside, patting her chest like calming a bird.

Then she caught Eli sneaking glances, his eyes flitting like minnows. She frowned and let it pass.

Better to keep still than have Angela snatch the thread and pull a net of questions.