Three months since the clan leaders reached the human imperial capital, armies swelled like storm-fronts around it, waiting for the greatest enemy.

Eli wore silver armor that held moonlight, a staff in his grip and a well-forged long sword riding his back.

Edlyn looked him over and burst into a laugh, like a sparrow breaking dawn. “Honestly, you look kind of weird.”

Eli shrugged, a pebble tossed into still water. “Can’t help it. Birand says it’s for the army’s uniform look.”

Edlyn smiled, her hand slipping into his like willow meeting wind. “You act like it’s nothing. Do we really do it his way?”

Eli folded her into his arms like a cloak catching rain. She’d put on high heels—the Demonic Lord’s old nemesis—to bridge their height like a small step-stone.

She could almost touch his chin now, and she settled into him like a cat finding sun.

Eli’s smile softened; her breath came warm as spring across his skin, and the restless thorns in his chest laid down.

“By now, plenty isn’t up to us,” he said, the words like stones placed with care. “About what you told me—can it work?”

Edlyn lifted her head, lashes flicking like moth wings, and let her gaze sweep the room’s corners.

Eli followed her look, eyes sailing like cranes over roofs and alleys.

Soldiers of the Holy Sanctuary drifted past outside like pale fish in a river; if Birand was plotting, better they kept clear of that current.

Edlyn tugged him away from the church like a hand pulling through fog. They found a hotel, took a room, laid several wards like paper screens, and only then let talk breathe.

She squared her shoulders, voice steady as ink on stone. “I wasn’t sure at first. But the script carved into the dais comes from our Demon Race, just altered—those edits cost me time.”

Eli turned, sprang onto the bed like a fox onto a rock, and sat cross-legged, listening as if to rain on tile.

“I’ve basically rebuilt the dais,” she said, words clicking like beads. “They said my blood can touch the seal, and the Abyss will wake, briefly.”

“How sure?” Eli’s brow tightened like gathering cloud, fingers teasing the little Demon Lord’s cheek like kneading dough.

“Eighty percent,” Edlyn mused, eyes drifting like leaves. “Those two did it then; no reason they’d hide that from me.”

“Those two? Who?” Eli frowned, the line sharp as a blade’s ridge.

“Mm… I’ll tell you in a bit,” Edlyn laughed off, her gaze skittering like a fish.

Eli shrugged, letting the worry float like a lantern. “If they tricked you and bled you for nothing, I won’t let them walk under this sky.”

Edlyn chuckled, a small kick tapping his leg like a raindrop. “Don’t say that.” If he knew the truth now, the blush would burn him.

They plotted with heads close, words weaving like threads, love and schemes braided in one rope.

Most of it was settled, like seals drying; all that remained was the face-saving ritual and a few last strokes.

They didn’t spell it out; they tucked it into their hearts like letters into sleeves.

“Still, your arrival here bugs me,” Edlyn said, pulling on his sleeve like tugging a kite string. “You blacked out, then a Celestial God took you to the Celestial Court? Handed you the Holy Sword, then dropped you below?”

“Uh? Yeah.” Eli rubbed her hair, fingers moving like wind in barley.

Edlyn frowned, a thin shadow across lantern light. “So you were ordinary, then reshaped by a Celestial God, and suddenly you lead armies and beat me? That doesn’t add up.”

Eli’s brow folded deeper, like mountain ridges. He had no memory of the first steps of cultivation, no ladder, no rungs.

Yet back then it all came like instinct, like a river finding its slope.

He hadn’t examined it then; now the knots showed, tight as roots.

Did Birand fail to pass the full memory? The thought hung like mist that wouldn’t clear.

But why hide that? The question spun like a top and wouldn’t settle. Eli’s brow held its crease.

Some things were never as simple as a straight path through bamboo.

Edlyn watched the furrow bite into his face and knew the stone underfoot wasn’t smooth.

“Forget it. No time to chase every shadow. Let’s handle what’s in front of us,” Eli said, smile rising like a lantern, bright with quiet faith.

“Mm… that’s best,” Edlyn said, her lips pouty as a plum.

“But I still care who those two are,” Eli said, the words like a hook flicked into water.

Edlyn froze, then eased out a sigh like steam. “You’ll know in a bit.”

Eli was ready to tease his little bride, a fox grinning over a henhouse, when Birand’s urgent signal struck his mind like a gong: “The Gate of the Celestial Realm is about to open.”

…

“Everyone, don’t hold back,” Birand said, voice pressed flat and ironed. “Pour out everything. If the Celestial Gods react in time, none of us walks away.”

These leaders were reeds in wind, and trust felt thin as paper.

The Giant Squid leaned into his chair, bulk settling like a boulder; the ornaments rattled like chimes in a gale. “Hero, tell me—where are the elves? You’ve stalled three months. What’s that mean? Did the Elf Race get wiped?”

Birand’s glance cut at the Giant Squid, irritation flicking like a knife. The beast had pecked him with that question for days, and now, of all storms, it chose this one.

“I said the Elf Race will appear soon,” he snapped, brows like crossed spears. “They’re my last hand to save our skins. Understand?”

“Of course,” the Giant Squid said, lifting his cup like a drifting boat. “Just feels wrong to see no elves in the hall.”

Birand smiled thinly, like frost on glass, and held his tongue.

The pocket space that had caged the elves had fallen silent, a well gone dry.

When did they slip his net? The question crawled like a centipede.

The sky thickened with black cloud, a lid pressed over the world; scarlet light rolled inside it like lava under crust. The end-times picture burned into minds and left a shiver under armor.

Violet lightning writhed like giant snakes in the cloud-sea, each roar punching the air like drums.

They stood by a mountain spine that ran for thousands of li, a stone dragon sleeping long.

Birand had sensed the Celestial Realm’s passage would land here, like a spear tip finding earth.

Rank upon rank wore heavy armor, weapons glinting like teeth, while human and demon operatives worked strange engines in the dark like spiders at web-corners.

Dwarves gathered at one flank, muttering over metal like priests over scripture.

Rain broke open and poured, needles stitching cold into faces.

The Giant Squid raised a hand, tasting the rain like a sommelier. “Too much energy in it,” he said with a frown. “Looks like…”

“It’s almost here,” Birand said, voice low as distant thunder.

He turned to the massed ranks, the swarms of aerial units crowding the air like starlings, and sighed, a wind through old pines.

If the Demon Race’s eight vassal races were present, odds would swell like a spring flood.

Liqianyu stepped to Eli’s side and tapped his shoulder like a friend knocking on wood. “Hey, brother, you scared?”

Eli smiled, thin and honest as rain on slate. “Yeah. So what? We can’t run.”

“That’s the official answer,” Liqianyu scoffed, lips skewed like a bent nail.

“Where’s Edlyn?” He scanned the ranks, gaze sweeping like a lighthouse, but saw no Edlyn or other demons.

Eli smiled, keeping his river still. “They’re our secret weapon. They don’t appear for free.”

He prayed in silence, words sinking like stones into deep water.

Abyss, wake. Abyss, open your eye.

“They’re here!” Birand roared, magic laced into his shout like iron into fire. The sound hit every ear like a bell struck hard.

Faces tightened, cheeks gaunt as drums before battle.

In the clouds, the churning center split like a seam, a golden-edged tear opening and widening until it matched a soccer field, then held like a fixed sun.

The hole, wreathed in holy light, sat in the gray mass like the eye of a typhoon, calm and terrible.

Angels poured out in flocks, white wings slicing cloud like knives through fog.

From the heart, beams of many colors lanced outward, sacred breath spilling like incense, and many soldiers lowered their weapons as if sleep had brushed their eyes.

Birand barked, “All units, on guard!” His voice cracked like thunder, snapping minds back like fingers on a bowstring.

Eli shook his head, blowing off the trance like dust, drew his long sword, and pointed skyward like a spear to heaven.

Birand raised a broken long sword, its edge like a scar, and pointed the same way.

Two sword-cries rose, hawks spiraling up, and the crowd’s battle-heart beat again like war drums.

At the cloud’s center, a woman in a long gown drifted forward, prismatic mist curling around her like robes; authority rested on her shoulders like a crown of ice.

She gazed down, cold and pitying, like moonlight over snow. “Why stand here?”

“Open fire!” Birand roared, and hidden demons pulled their triggers, fingers snapping like traps.

Black energy lances streaked from the mountains, night-arrows aimed at the woman in the sunhole.

Her eyes were veiled by the purest light, a blaze like noonday; her right hand swept out, and holy radiance gathered into a vast curtain like a waterfall turned upright.

It met the torrent of demonic miasma with a crash like cliffs colliding.

Hearts knotted tight, ropes pulled to breaking. This strike would tip the scale.

Luck held. The curtain only slowed the surge, then the tidal miasma swallowed it like ink into water.

The torrent slammed at the Celestial God’s side, a battering ram of night.

She raised her hand again, catching it like a dam; her brow pinched. “Abyssal scent. Still so pure. Far beyond the Demon Race of old. Have Fiends revived?”

She spoke to herself, words drifting like smoke.

Below, countless energies lifted and soldiers launched together, like sparks flung into wind.

“Exterminate the Evil God!” several races shouted, their bodies arrowing skyward.

The Celestial God kept her cold, a mountain above rain. Angels dove at once, white comets headed down.

“You dare defy me?” Her voice fell like frost over steel.