The fire in the distance kept swaying—candle-fragile, ready to snuff at a breath of wind. A yin chill slid past; Xi shivered. The light orb in her palm went out. Darkness fell, and that far fire stayed a pinprick.
“We’ve walked so long—why aren’t we any closer to it?” In the dark, Xi voiced the doubt at Ouyang’s side. Not long ago, Ouyang had spotted the glow and tugged her toward it. Ten minutes later, the distance hadn’t shrunk at all.
The wind sighed by, and a truth pricked her. Who had she been talking to?
Ouyang?
But Ouyang had vanished without a trace. Xi searched her memory and found no moment of departure. If the orb hadn’t guttered out, she wouldn’t have noticed he was gone.
It was wrong. She’d been holding his hand the whole time—so where was he now? How could she forget the instant he let go? Uncanny—everything felt uncanny: Ouyang’s disappearance, that fire near as fingertip yet far as horizon.
“Ouyang, come out. Don’t you dare scare me like this!” Xi shaped a new light orb; pale glow washed over scrub and stone. No shadow of Ouyang answered. “Xian, say something!”
Ouyang had been carrying Xian. If he was pranking her, Xian would have softened at her panic and stopped. Yet no matter how Xi called, the world stayed mute. No, not quiet—death-still.
Panic rose. Xi ran the barren wilds, scanning for any trace of Ouyang or Xian. Overhead, a scarlet moon climbed—witch-bright, dream-wrong.
Exhaustion hit like sand. Xi lay down on the cold ground. Under that bloodred moon, everything wore an eerie glaze. In the sky, a clot of black mist drifted, like an eye that watched and never blinked.
“Lian… are you there?” In helplessness, she reached for the other soul in her body. The White Elf who always appeared at the brink did not answer. Somewhere, crimson flowers uncurled across the waste. Crimson night, crimson moon—crimson soaked everything.
“Despairing… aren’t you? No one in this world will reach for you. ‘Family,’ ‘friends’—they abandon you the instant you need them.” A tender child’s voice rang through the dead, uncanny night. Xi pushed herself up and hunted for the source.
Ahead, a little girl walked toward her, wrapped in black fog.
Black dress, black hair, black headband—the first impression was simply “black.” She felt like the whole night distilled to a single shade.
At the same time, Xi’s doubt deepened. She had met a girl like this not long ago—Ouyang’s little sister, Loyin. But the more she looked, the surer she was this wasn’t Loyin. The aura was different; one was bright and playful, while this one felt like… resentment woven into a body.
“The world cast us out, so we learn to live with solitude. Hate them—hate the ones who threw us away.” The girl drew near, and a restless itch rose in Xi’s chest.
Yes—she was agitated. If Ouyang hadn’t dragged her here, would any of this have happened? If he’d stood beside her at the critical moment, would today have spiraled like this?
“Ouyang! This is all that bastard’s fault!”
Slowly, Xi began to blame the sister who vanished with him. When she needed help most, her sister had gone with that bastard and left her alone in the waste.
“Traitor…”
Agitation, sharp and fresh. Xi felt not only Ouyang and Xian had abandoned her—this whole world glared at her. So she started to blame the world. Hate everyone. Because in her most terrified, most helpless moment, no hand reached for hers. This despairing world…
“Big Brother, what’s happening to my sister?” Same road. The distant fire still wavered. Xian stared at her sister, ringed by coils of black fog. Moments ago, black mist had erupted from Xi. It swirled and held her aloft, as if her mind had slipped out.
Xi’s state was uncanny, but Ouyang still read something in the fog. From the black, he felt a scent like Loyin’s. Yet after the time they’d spent together, he knew Loyin wouldn’t do this. The thought deepened his frown. Back then, she’d almost taken his body. If not for certain reasons, he’d be under her control now.
Even Ouyang’s strong mind had struggled against Loyin. So what about Xi?
Even if the one called Sin wasn’t as strong as Loyin, Xi’s spirit wasn’t as strong as his. If Sin was stronger than Loyin, Xi had even less chance to resist.
None of that mattered now.
“Strange. Does Sin have a grudge against Xi? It doesn’t add up. Why pick her?” Ouyang watched the fog-wrapped Xi, baffled. Loyin had targeted him because she resented the Other Shore—and wanted his body. But what did Sin want?
Xi wasn’t from the Other Shore. And what’s so special about her body? That guy hasn’t even mastered a tweaked Radiance spell, and he’s still wearing a mortal shell. What did he see in her?
It made no sense. Ouyang couldn’t unravel it.
“Big Brother, save my sister!” Xian tugged Ouyang’s arm again and again. He kept frowning, so she chose to rush in herself. His thoughts whirled. When he saw her hand reaching for the fog, his heart dropped.
He was fast enough to yank Xian back. “You little menace, that stuff isn’t a toy. Even I don’t dare touch it. Are you trying to die?” He locked his arms around her and kept her away from the mist.
“I don’t care. I’m saving my sister!” Xian fought and sobbed. Ouyang felt wrung out, body and mind. He worried for Xi’s safety, whether Sin would possess her, and a squirming kid thrashed in his arms.
In the end, Ouyang chopped the side of Xian’s neck with his hand and knocked her out.
“Whew. Finally, quiet.” Her crying had buzzed in his ears. Out of patience, he’d taken the quick route. Honestly, with moves like that, this guy’s bound to die alone.
Just when Ouyang had no way through the fog, a dark-red beam lanced from the forest. Its target was him.
The instant the beam neared, he reacted. He threw out his right hand to block. The glare died. His right arm was gone—empty air. “Black magic. Collapse.” He squinted as he named it.
He knew black magic. He’d even studied plenty. In other worlds—even the Divine Realm—black magic was banned from use and research. Gods and demons both feared it. Magic obeyed rules and equivalence. Black magic didn’t.
If you need a metaphor: magic is like code. It runs by its logic. Black magic is like a virus—rewriting and wrecking as it pleases.
He’d sensed trouble, yes—but first, he hadn’t been sure. Second, the enemy hadn’t shown a stronger aura. Among equals, breaking his shield was hard. Unless they charged a heavy strike, and then he’d react in time.
He hadn’t expected someone wielding rule-ignoring black magic. The emptiness where his arm should be simmered his anger.
“Heh. That scent—smells like the Demon World. I expected nobodies. Didn’t expect someone who knows black magic.” Ouyang locked onto the distant silhouette. Horns curled from the foe’s head like a bull’s. Ragged black armor spoke of hard wars.
“Magic, huh… Then watch what real magic is.” Seven-colored particles gathered in Ouyang’s left hand and coalesced into sigils. The sigils fused and reformed, a dance of light and pattern. “Black magic or magic—we see their essence clearer than you.”
Back at Starry College, Ouyang had learned the truth. At the bottom, magic is particles recombining. Casting hinges on mass, density, and structure. Black magic just builds with a frame that defies the usual.
