And so four days slid by, calm as a pond at dawn—nothing happened.

At first, Lucimia couldn’t unclench—her mind was a drumskin, tight and humming, every shadow a hook for Elyssus’s schemes.

At midnight, she saw someone slip into an alley like a rat into a drain. Her heart jumped like a trapped bird—Elyssus’s believer? She tailed him, only to find he was hiding cash.

Four days like that, her nerves were a drawn bow, waiting for a snap. Sleep came like thin frost, never settling.

But time is a slow tide. The taut line slackened. She let herself float again, stretched out, indulged, breathing easy.

Three more days. The Church’s second team arrived. Lucimia tested their identities like a jeweler testing gold. Only after she was sure did she let them set up the Exorcism Magic Array.

“Mmm…” Lucimia cracked open sleepy eyes.

“Mm~” She arched her back, a cat in a sunbeam, then rolled out of bed.

Today they were setting the Magic Array. She planned to watch—identity checked or not, she’d still hunt for little tricks under the rug.

Wash. Dress. Wake Yuna. Wash and dress her too. Eat. Head out. The routine flowed like a wind-up music box, small gears turning smooth.

She took Yuna by the hand and stepped into the street, walking toward the array site, their shadows long as brushstrokes on the cobbles.

From a distance, she spotted a red-haired girl frozen over a book, eyes burning like twin candles. She’d close it and murmur, as if stitching words into her memory.

“What are you doing?” Lucimia spoke from just behind Desty, a cool breeze down the neck.

“Eek!” The redhead yelped, spun, and then sagged with relief when she saw Lucimia.

“You scared me.” She patted her chest like calming a skittish foal, then explained, “I’m memorizing the chants for the Exorcism Ritual.”

“Chants? You’re the officiant for this Magic Array? Didn’t you say you already knew them? Why cram now?” Lucimia tilted her head, a white bird’s curiosity.

“…I only studied them at the Church,” Desty whispered. “This is my first time officiating. I’m afraid I’ll blank, so I’m reviewing.”

“Oh.” Lucimia nodded, then smiled. “I remember the officiant has to be a Church Executor, right? So you got promoted?”

“…Yes,” Desty said, pausing. “Because of the Bazeroth incident, they made me an Executor. But honestly, it’s thanks to you.”

“That so? You earned it. Without you, I would’ve had a harder time.” Lucimia tapped her shoulder, light as a drumbeat. “You got this.”

She moved on.

With Yuna in tow, she made a slow circuit of the other array sites, eyes skimming like swallows over a lake. Nothing out of place.

“By the timing, they’ll finish at dusk. So where now?” She glanced up. The sky was a slate, clouds gathering like crows to a bare tree.

“Huh? Rain already?”

Rain would be trouble. Or… blow the clouds away?

Why not. A little spell practice.

She led Yuna home first, then lifted off with her from the bedroom window—so Miss Kaeli wouldn’t know what she was up to.

Up they rose. Hover. Raise a hand.

She worked her power. The clouds didn’t budge.

“Eh?” Lucimia stared at her palm, a pianist missing a key. “Too long without casting… did I forget?”

She tried again, stubborn as a mountain goat. The clouds didn’t stir—worse, they gathered thicker, smothering the sun, turning the sky to iron.

“Weird.” She blinked, and studied the ceiling of storm.

“Hm? That cloud?”

Far away, one cloud writhed like a knot of snakes. It twisted, kept changing, then slowly stopped, holding a shape like cooling wax.

Lucimia focused. Her body flinched; cold shot through her like river ice.

The cloud’s shape looked almost exactly like Elyssus.

A face pocked with holes. A skull bristling with tentacles. That signature grin, lips hooked up at an angle no human mouth should bear.

The more she looked, the closer it felt—was she frayed enough to be hallucinating? She rubbed her eyes hard. The cloud didn’t change.

A bad wind rose in her chest.

“Mom, what’s that?”

Below, a little girl pointed up with a trembling finger.

“I… I don’t know. It looks scary. Forget it, let’s go home.” Her mother grabbed her hand and ran, skirts fluttering like frightened birds.

Others saw it too. Voices swelled like a pot boiling over.

“Not a hallucination,” Lucimia said, voice flat as stone. “It’s real.”

Her face hardened, a blade kissed with frost.

As if answering her, the cloud began to change again. Elyssus’s outline thickened, color bled into it, vapor turned to flesh. A colossal octopus hung in the sky, looking down like a deity over an altar.

“Hee-hee-hee, ha-ha-ha, hee-hee-hee—!!” Elyssus laughed, harsher than before, a sawblade on bone.

“What is that thing??”

“Holy—”

“An Evil Entity? No, a Dark Deity?!”

“Where’s the Church? Where’s the Lancelot Family?”

“Ahhh, run!”

“Don’t push me—”

Panic churned below, a kettle kicked over. Lucimia stared up, eyes locked with Elyssus, her gaze a spear.

“Hee-hee-hee, Lu-ci-mia—did you miss me? Ha-ha-ha~” Elyssus raised its tentacles high, laughter spilling like oil.

“…How did you do it?”

She didn’t tremble like before. Calm pooled, cool and deep. Still, a few cold beads slid down her temple.

“Heh-heh-heh~ Guess?” Elyssus cocked its enormous octopus head, playful as a cat with a bird.

“…,” Lucimia swallowed, throat dry as dust.

She thought, but the path forked into fog.

How did Elyssus descend on this town? Did Bazeroth really start a Sacrificial Ritual elsewhere? That ritual was only for communication at best—maybe it could possess a Deceiver.

Without a summoning, how did it manifest?

She couldn’t fit the pieces.

“Ha-ha-ha, can’t figure it out, can you? Aww—looks like you’re not as smart as me. Jiejiejie~” Elyssus mocked, words like needles.

“You’re wondering—two Magic Arrays broken, Bazeroth unable to start a summoning, so how did I arrive anyway?”

“…,” Lucimia said nothing. Silence was assent.

“Hee-hee-hee, want to know? Want to know? Ha—won’t tell you~” It tipped its head back and howled with laughter.

Lucimia’s fist clenched, a storm bottled in glass. She wanted to swing, but knew she’d shatter first.

What now? No options left. Reversion.

“Yuna!” Lucimia called.

But—

Puff!

A tentacle flicked into being, as if sliding from another dimension’s slit, and speared straight through Yuna’s chest.

“…Damn it.” Lucimia gritted her teeth and triggered Teleportation Magic.

Despair bloomed like black mold. White light flared on Yuna for a heartbeat—then black mist devoured it. Teleportation Magic failed.

“…No way.”

She tried again. Not even a glimmer. She was a singer without a voice—no spell would answer.

Panic rose like floodwater.

“Ha-ha-ha!” Elyssus roared with delight. “Yes, that’s it—that look, that raw despair. I love it!”

Another tentacle lunged and punched through Lucimia.