Thanks to Ed’s advice, Darren’s death date slid back like a scythe halted mid-swing.

Dawn climbed the eaves like a pale blade, and Darren staggered into the Crystal Radiance Temple, breath pumping like a forge bellows; a false god looked spent.

“Ymir, bad news—real bad!” His voice rang through the Holy City like a cracked bell rolling down marble steps.

In the temple, Ymir was sipping wine, calm as winter stone, when he spat it out like a startled spray, straight onto a god’s face.

That god wore Koramor’s sigil like a cold star; after Alfred bolted last night, Ymir had notified Koramor, and this envoy had come like thunder in robes.

Why say “one of them”? Because two envoys arrived, twin blades from one sheath: one for the Divine Realm, one for the Underworld.

Ymir’s spray hit the Divine Realm’s envoy; when he realized it, fear flooded him like black water under ice.

Damn it—rage rose like smoke in Ymir’s chest—the shouting voice belonged to Darren, one of his spies, and that fool had kicked the hornet’s nest.

“Envoy, please don’t be angry, please—” Ymir’s words tumbled like spilled beads; offense hung in the air like a drawn bow.

The soaked envoy was an angel, face calm as carved jade, but her chest rose and fell like stormed sea, hiding lightning under glass.

She said nothing; her silence lay heavy, like snow that buries tracks, and Ymir panicked at that blank horizon.

“Envoy, how about… I lick it clean…” His dignity cracked like thin ice; he forgot the angel was a woman, and the wine sat on her cheek like a stain on moonlight.

Smack—her patience snapped like a bowstring, and one slap sent Ymir flying like a leaf in a gale.

The Underworld’s envoy, a fallen angel, laughed like gravel sliding down a ravine; angels and fallen angels were mortal storms, and this sight was sweet rain to him.

“En… Envoy… please give me… one more chance…” Ymir pinwheeled from the temple and smashed through buildings like a mad comet.

He finally hit something soft, like a snowbank in spring, and the force bled away like a tide going out.

No wonder—these were envoys; Alfred had once thrown Koramor into chaos like foxes in a henhouse, divine artifact or not, which proved his iron.

An angel with mid-tier divine strength didn’t slap for fun; she held back the killing frost, yet stars still burst in Ymir’s head like shaken gold dust.

After an age that felt like winter night, Darren shook Ymir awake, and his world swam like ink in water.

“Boss Ymir, it’s bad…” Panic beat in Darren’s voice like wings in a cage.

Bad? Fury flared first, hot as oil on fire; then Ymir’s fist crashed into Darren’s face like a hammer on anvil.

“Stop—mmph—boss, this isn’t the time for infighting—” Darren’s words stumbled like stones in a brook.

“Infighting, my ass!” Ymir’s punches swung left and right like twin oars. “Do you know what you did? Your squealing ruined me!”

“Because of you, I offended an archangel; I’ll beat the pig out of you!” His rage poured like summer rain, drenching sense.

“Boss… not the time. Push me more and I’ll push back!” Darren’s warning trembled like a taut string.

“Push back? You dare?” Ymir’s anger burned like resin, thicker the hotter it got.

A shadow flashed in like a hawk, snatching Darren away in a streak of steel dusk.

“Ed!” The name tore from Ymir like cloth ripping.

Ed held Darren by the scruff like a cat with a rabbit, hovering in the air like a lantern over dark water; several figures drifted behind him.

They wore black cloaks like nightskin, and on each chest the burning emblem of the FFF Brotherhood flared like a brand.

“Ymir,” Ed called down, voice cold as high wind, “Darren stole intel from us. I’m taking him back. You’ve got no objection, right?”

No objection? Ymir’s heart spat sparks like a brazier kicked open.

“Ed, are you stupid? Looks like you’ve betrayed me… ha ha ha… in that case, you’re not leaving!” He fired off a signal like a sky-lantern.

False gods swarmed from the Holy City like hornets from a cleft, circling to form a ring of iron and salt.

He didn’t grasp the why, but Ed’s lofty stare rode the air like a falcon, and Ymir tasted betrayal like iron on his tongue.

Still, doubt crawled like ants: why betray me? My backing’s a mountain—God-King and Underworld King both named me their mouthpiece.

So where’d Ed get the guts? Did he already know I offended the envoy? The question gnawed like mice behind the walls.

Ed’s lip curled; he looked at the false gods like weeds in a field. He raised his hand to the cloaked ones like a host opening the curtain.

“Friends, it’s your show now.” His calm spread like oil on black water.

Brother Justice stepped first, pulling a fat book from nowhere like a magician flicking silk.

He flipped and flipped, pages whispering like dry leaves; at last his finger landed like a knife on law.

“According to the Law of Advanced Civilizations, Article 250: obstructing official duty—kill without mercy.” His voice tolled like a judge’s bell.

No order from above had arrived like a sealed letter, yet Darren had stolen intel, and the hunt counted as duty, a sword swung first and reported later.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—torches leapt into their right hands like firebirds, and fireballs bloomed in their left palms like ripe suns.

“Burn!” Flames roared like lions.

“Burn!” The cry rolled like thunder.

“Burn!” The air itself shivered like a drumskin.

Ed took an involuntary step back, heartbeat pricking like sleet; the ritual looked ridiculous, but the aura pressed like a storm.

While the false gods stared, confused as cows before lightning, the FFF Brotherhood hurled fireballs like meteors from a showering sky.

“Judge them! They’re guilty!” The shout cracked like a whip.

“They’re not virgins! They left the group!” The verdict fell like hail.

“Burn these sinners who lost it!” Torches lifted like red comets.

Ymir’s mind spun like a windmill in a squall; what was this? A moment ago it was obstruction, now it’s not-virgins must die?

What happened today? I offended an envoy, then met this pack of lunatics; the day twisted like a river after a landslide.

No answer came like rain to dust. A fireball struck him, and flame climbed him like ivy on a tower.

This fire wasn’t ordinary; even a false god couldn’t snuff it, like trying to choke the sun with bare hands.

It only burned on flesh like a curse on skin; wild throws didn’t torch streets, and to mortals it was mist—there, yet not there.

“Save me, Envoy, save me!” Ymir screamed like a hare in a snare.

By the time the angel and the fallen angel arrived like twin storms, Ymir was charcoal where a man had been, and their pet false gods were ashes on the wind.

On the field, a sleazy youth dodged fireballs like a rat in alleys; seeing his buddies crisp to cinders, a thought sparked like flint.

“Don’t burn me, don’t judge me, I’m innocent!” he bawled like a street crier. “Sirs, I’m still a virgin, still single, please spare me!”

“Justice, that one’s still single!” a brother called, voice grinning like a fox.

“Single? Then leave him,” Brother Justice said, tone flat as a blade. “Go home and stay single. Our FFF Brotherhood burns all heterosexuals.”

“If we find you coupled up, we’ll nail you to a cross and burn you,” he added, voice dry as tinder.

Of course, slogans are wind for shouting; their superior, the Void Messenger, had already left the group like a swan leaving a flock.

They wouldn’t burn their boss; not for lack of zeal, but the power gap was an abyss with teeth.

“Ha… thank you, sirs, for sparing me,” the youth gushed like a burst spring. “I’ll go cancel my engagement at once!”

“Mm?” The sound hung like a raised brow.

“Huh? Engaged?” The word snapped like a twig.

“What? You lucky dog?” Scorn stung like nettles.

Faces soured like milk in sun, and the youth babbled like a river in flood: “No, no—today opened my eyes.”

“Love’s just clouds blowing by; I’ll join your grand cause of burning heterosexuals,” he vowed, eyes shining like wet stones.

“My respect for your burnings overflows like a river in spate, unstoppable as spring thaw.”

In the end, only a few singles kept their lives, clutching them like lanterns in wind; they blessed their empty beds for once.

The task was done; the false gods Koramor had propped up were mostly soot, and any who skipped the temple today were small fish in a wide lake.

Watching it all, Ed felt his worldview tilt like a painting askew; the mysterious, mighty Expeditionary Corps were… odd peas in a stranger pod.

Maybe every master has a kink, he thought, the idea drifting like incense; this kink, though, was a riddle in smoke.

Beyond the oddity, shock hammered him like iron on iron. From start to finish, the Expeditionary Corps floated above like stars over a battlefield.

They didn’t move; they tossed small fireballs like children skipping stones, and the false gods died like paper in flame. That was their strength.

Ed’s mood knotted like braided rope, yet expectation burned like a beacon; he wanted to see the Expeditionary Corps clash with Koramor.

The Crystal Radiance World’s power was a shallow pond; these false gods never forced the Corps to show their deep ocean.

Only Koramor could tempt that sea to rise and break, fists like waves on a cliff.

Now the collision drew near like stormclouds over a plain: the Expeditionary Corps against the envoys of gods.