She sealed off the lingering fumes, but the venom she’d already breathed still wormed through her chest like cold smoke under ice.

In her past life, the Blue Ringed Octopus locked bodies in iron chains of paralysis. Minds stayed clear, yet breaths drowned like waves in a closed room.

Even with open eyes, the body wouldn’t respond, like a puppet with cut strings beneath a storm. Bleeding wounds wouldn’t clot; blood ran like a red river.

There was no treatment, only a cliff-edge prognosis, the death rate towering like a black mountain.

This world’s Blue Ringed Octopus vented poison differently, yet the symptoms matched like mirrored nightmares on dark water.

She had to run. If the toxin bloomed, she’d die like a candle snuffed in wind. Lucimia treasured life and wouldn’t duel to mutual ruin.

“Raaah—! Despicable Exorcist Family!” the Blue Ringed Octopus roared, rings blazing like azure halos. Fog became jets of venom, a storm of liquid fangs.

The spray hit the long table and ate it at once, like acid rain gnawing old wood.

“You tricked me again and again. Unforgivable!” it howled, voice slicing like broken glass.

“If I fooled you this many times, doesn’t that prove I can serve Elyssus?” Lucimia kept her smile like a lotus in mud. “Care to recommend me?”

“Impossible! I’ll hack you apart, piece by piece, and make you my new vessel!” The octopus raved, eyes gleaming like night lanterns.

No room to talk then. Lucimia slipped into motion, using shelves and shadows like reeds and rocks, circling the beast with quiet feet.

She aimed for the front door like a single bright star, but the Blue Ringed Octopus saw it. It spewed venom first, sealing the gateway like frost.

Its attacks fenced her in, strokes like bars on a cage, and crossing felt like wading through spears.

Soon the cramped bookstore lay in ruin, shelves and desks cut down like wheat. Fallen wood blocked paths, a jumble like a toppled forest.

She couldn’t fly, and her steps snagged on debris like thorns. The octopus floated free, drifting like a storm cloud.

Cornered, she hit a dead end, the corner tight as a noose.

“Heh-heh-heh, let’s see where you run now!” The octopus grinned, a villain’s mask, its cackle rippling like oil on water.

Lucimia panted, heat on her cheeks like dew turned to steam. Panic flickered in her eyes like birds scattering.

Breaths grew hard, like bellows stuck. Her calves tingled, numb like frostbitten reeds, and she held her knee with a shaking hand.

The toxin was blooming, petals of pain opening fast. Soon she’d be a lamb on the block, unable to move under a butcher’s moon.

Even if she reached the street, a cure might still be a mirage. Healing Magic was rare as phoenix feathers, not learned from books.

And could Healing Magic even purge an Evil Entity’s poison? If not, death waited like a shadow at noon.

Should’ve jumped the window at the start. Regret bit her heart like a cold wind through a thin cloak.

“Die!” the octopus screamed, venting rage like a cracked volcano, tentacles whipping with full force.

Rows of barbs flashed like starlight and scythed down from above, a silver rain with blades.

No dodging this time. She had to block, like a tree meeting an avalanche.

She drew a long breath, calm like a lake before dawn, and changed how she gathered magic.

She framed it with metal magic, a skeleton like iron bones. She packed earth magic into a shield like packed clay.

She iced the surface with ice-element magic, frost glazing steel like winter on stone. It became a full ice-shield.

She mixed every tough element together, a fusion like layered armor, all done in a handful of heartbeats.

She’d learned it from reading, page by page like stepping stones. If anyone saw this speed and multi-magic blend, jaws would drop like falling tiles.

Lucimia didn’t know. She simply moved, quick as a sparrow.

Clang—! The recoil hammered her arm, pain shooting like sparks from a forge.

The shield caught the blow, a wall in a gale, but a crack crawled across it like a spiderweb.

“Hmph. Let’s see how long you last.” Four tentacles twitched and whipped, strikes pattering like sleet on bronze.

The shop rang with a blacksmith’s rhythm, bright and cold, as cracks multiplied like lines on dried clay. Lucimia fed mana in steady streams, mending like a seamstress.

They locked in stalemate, two stones grinding in a river.

In that grinding pause, a thought cut through. Why hadn’t anyone noticed?

The octopus had been roaring like thunder since the start. Shelves fell with booms like drums. Now the shield sang like steel, clear and sharp.

No one came. Not a single soul like a lantern in night.

Where were the city guards? A rescue should’ve arrived like cavalry under banners.

And Kaeli—wasn’t Miss Kaeli watching from the shadows? Why hadn’t she stepped in, like rain at a drought? Was Lucimia wrong?

She glanced at the blond man at the counter. He slept like a baby in a cradle, soundless amid clamor, dreams sealed like a shell.

She began to wonder if he was dead, a quiet statue laid under dust.

Her arms, soft as willow, had taken too many strikes. Strength thinned like water through sand.

Another clang, hard as a bell, forced her down to one knee. She held the shield up like a last umbrella under hail.

Four tentacles pressed like a storm-tide, dense and fierce. No openings. No path out.

Worse, heat climbed through her body like summer noon. She recalled the toxin’s fever, head heavy like a stone jar.

Dizziness swayed her thoughts like reeds in wind. The venom was rising, a tide with iron teeth.

Cracks raced the shield like lightning across glass. She reached for mana, but the flow felt dammed, blocked like a river under ice.

Nothing came. The shield’s wounds widened, a map of ruin, lines spreading like drought on parchment.

Damn it. Was this how it ended, like a candle guttering in rain?

Her body burned hotter, a furnace under skin. Sweat soaked her clothes like rain on silk.

Cheeks, arms, and calves flushed red, heat licking like tiny flames. The hot wave shoved her temperature toward its limits, a sun too close.

No, this wasn’t normal fever. The difference rang like a hidden bell.

It felt like a fire had kindled inside her, a secret blaze in a coal-heart.

Bang! The shield shattered, shards skipping like ice under boots.

At that instant, Lucimia herself went up in flames. Fire burst from within, wrapping her like a phoenix cloak.

The octopus flinched, eyes wide like saucers. Its poison never made people burn like torches.

It assumed it was a technique, and slid back two steps like a wary cat. Venom shot out like an arrow of pitch.

The spray never touched her. Heat rolled off her like desert wind, and the venom evaporated midair, steam curling like ghosts.

Lucimia’s form vanished behind a huge flame, a bonfire cloaked in night. She gritted through pain like teeth on grit and reached for water magic.

Nothing came. No cool stream. Only heat and silence like an empty well.

Her consciousness sank, a stone dropping into deep water. She fell, weak as a leaf in autumn.

Just as she was about to black out, the flames vanished, gone like a dream at dawn, erased as if they’d never been.

Lucimia opened her eyes. A moment later, light snapped back like sunrise through cloud.

She stood. Her clothes weren’t burned, threads neat like moonlight on linen. The white flower on her head was untouched, pure as frost.

She checked her hands, smooth and steady like carved jade. She kicked her calf, springy as a willow switch. She drew two deep breaths.

She was completely healed. No numb legs, no tight chest. Breathing flowed like a clear stream. Her arm felt fine, pain gone like mist.

Her whole body felt light, a swallow taking wing.

What was this? Was it her Authority Power as a Dark Deity? Or some hidden trait, a flame carved in her fate?