Snow fell in thick veils, but the continent burned like a forge. The Source World was chaos: Miracle City versus the Divine Realm; the Divine Realm versus Sky City; Sky City versus Miracle City; Miracle City versus the Demon World…

It started simple. Miracle City backed the Karosen Kingdom. The Divine Realm backed the Land of Light. Then Miracle City picked fights on multiple fronts, and, while crossing blades with the Divine Realm, went out of its way to trouble Kavasha’s Sky City. Everyone figured a force bold enough to face the Divine Realm would swat the Sky Council like flies. The result shocked them.

In ancient Kavasha, the twelve families of the Sky Council raised a set of relics called the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts and carved their name across the land. When Miracle City failed to take Kavasha at first, people were puzzled. Soon the board got messier. Whispers of a War of the Gods spread. Visitors from other worlds crossed over more and more. Most who dared were Demigods; a few were gods from elsewhere.

The Divine Realm’s name carried weight. Naturally, Demigods and gods from afar leaned toward their banner. But few of those beings were fools. Faced with Miracle City—a riddle that dared to spar with the Divine Realm—they weren’t about to charge in just because their blood ran hot.

In a tangled storm like this, the first skill was to watch.

A cluster of Demigods watched long enough to sniff out a soft target. The continent now split three ways: one camp for the Divine Realm, one for Miracle City, and one neutral. In sheer pull, the Divine Realm pressed Miracle City hard.

Kavasha, long and old, found itself forced by the Divine Realm to make a stand. They did, just as the Realm wanted—only Kavasha chose to be a fourth faction. It made sense. Each of the twelve Council families held a sealed divine artifact and a sealed demon artifact. Some had broken loose, but several still slept in their ancestral halls.

With power like the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts behind them, why yield?

Miracle City took Kavasha’s stance in stride. The Divine Realm, at most, was surprised. Demigods and a few off-world gods, though, exploded. Under banners of “slaying demons,” they marched on Kavasha.

Credit where it’s due—the Demigods stumbled into truth. In Kavasha, they found demon remnants.

The fog thickened. Led by several gods, a host of Demigods stormed Sky City. Then a pitch-black corridor yawned open above the spires. The Demon World—their gate had opened, and a tide of demon legions rolled out.

The Demigod host bled heavy. A god even fell. A scarlet blossom of divinity drifted on the wind for a day and a night.

Just when everyone braced for a three-realm war, the demon army faltered. For a time, black fog boiled over Sky City, ink-dark and choking. Even birds wouldn’t dare near it. The murk swallowed Sky City and half of Kavasha.

When a demon general finally staggered out of the fog, the truth rang clear. Inside that darkness, the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts ruled all. Because the Demon gate opened atop Sky City, the Demon World got the worst of it. In the end, the Demon Emperor grit his teeth and blasted the gate to shards. Those who had crossed were doomed. Within the fog, space magic was dead. Forget opening a path home. Only a handful—single digits—escaped.

The name Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts rang across the continent and into neighboring worlds.

The demons who slipped away contacted forces hiding in the Rift Wasteland. They opened the Demon gate again. This time, after a bruising with the Artifacts, the demon army came back jumpy. They hunkered down in the Rift Wasteland, ready to pull out the instant the wind turned ill.

Now, four great powers—Divine Realm, Demon World, Miracle City, Sky City—kept their swords mostly sheathed, but shadows kept moving.

For the past month, one rumor boiled hottest: someone had sealed an Artifact. A youth named Augustine led his team and sealed the Twelve Demon Artifact called Final Grudge, the thing that had wiped a nation clean. The silver-haired boy and his squad became names in the Source World. Off-world visitors carried those names home; they became names in other worlds too.

While everyone wondered where Augustine came from, a message surfaced—from him. The lord of Miracle City, it was said, was his teacher.

“No wonder… the city lord of Miracle City is rumored to be a Prime God. With a Prime God teaching the boy, his feats make sense.” People exhaled. If Augustine had sealed an Artifact by pure self-study, his talent would be terrifying beyond belief. With a teacher like that, the tale felt far more believable.

Fame cut both ways. The Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts fixed on Augustine’s team. They chased them from Kavasha to the Land of Light, then from the Land of Light to Nightfall Forest. Recently, Augustine’s Artifact-hunting squad vanished. Most believed the Artifacts erased them.

Seth City—Augustine’s hometown—was also the first city eroded by Saya’s power.

Now, this city of insects lay under drifting smoke and echoing chitter. The air tasted of ash.

Worry hit first, sharp as a sting. “Seniors, do you have a way? If this goes on, the residents will get hurt…” Insects roared and skittered, pacing in restless loops. They were the townsfolk. Augustine’s clash with Saya would crush them.

Bang—Caro slammed into a high tower and split it clean in two. She shook off the impact, wings beating, and flew back to the group.

“Senior, this won’t work. We can’t fight with our hands tied.”

Irina hauled Caro upright, eyes flicking to the two elders, hunting any answer.

Augustine’s team could face the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts partly on their own power, but mostly because Dongze and Agas watched from the side. Their numbers had grown from two or three to seven. Apart from Augustine, the other six had contracts with the Demon King. Only with that borrowed power could they stand against the Artifacts.

As contract-bearers, Irina and Fei naturally joined. Beyond those four, the remaining three were boys: Lain, Durak, and Priss.

Lain found kindred darkness with Glenza, that Lich, and forged his contract there. Durak, the only dwarf on the team, drew the favor of Bartley, the dwarf god, and bound a contract with him. Last was Priss, prized by the dark elf Feges; he signed with Feges.

Priss… he was a man with a story. A prince of the Land of Light who defected to Miracle City—yes, that’s a story.

“No problem.” Agas drew a wand that looked like a plain wooden rod. His black mage robe whispered and lifted in the wind.

“Time-Stilled Domain!”

At his words, the world dulled to grayscale, like a photograph drained of life. Color fled. In that black-and-white hush, the insects froze mid-stride. Smoke hung, congealed. Leaves paused in mid-fall, trembling in place.

“In this ward, no matter what you break, once it lifts, everything will return as it was.”

Agas spoke evenly.

“Time… has stopped?” The sensation struck Augustine first, cool and crystalline.

After Ouyang shoved him into further training with Anatasya, the last White Elf, Augustine had eaten his share of bitter lessons. Anatasya had inherited her forebears’ lore through soul-lineage. With White Elf blood in his veins, Augustine was keen to shifts in time. He could feel the stop.

“Correct. Now, fight to your heart’s content.”

The certainty steadied him. Augustine slid the bow from his back. Elven archery is a craft few races surpass. If he could catch the opening and skewer Saya’s arm, he would sever the Artifact from its host. Without a bearer, one of the Twelve Divine Demon Artifacts couldn’t kick up much of a wave.

Dongze and Agas watched from a rooftop, silent sentinels. Agas had cast the ward and held back. Dongze didn’t even intend to lift a hand. Not far away, Saya stood atop a tower. Emerald ripples fanned from her, wave on wave, and an ethereal voice rang through the stilled air.