The plan felt solid, like a stone bridge laid over a rushing river.
A chill pricked first; her trick of sweeping someone off history worked like a broom over an old scroll, even making Elyssus forget Cole.
Unless Elyssus knew she had that brush and chose to veil it with Deception, everyone’s memory stayed fogged, like a morning mist over fields.
She frowned first, like a cat before rain. “Mm… how do I hide this Fuzzy Orb?”
Invisibility Spell? The thought slid in like a shadow under a door; let it cling to my waist? Not impossible.
Fine—hammer it in like a nail; do it that way.
Resolve settled like a stone in water; she raised her hand and cast Invisibility Spell, but the Fuzzy Orb gulped the spell like candy.
Her hand froze like ice on a winter branch.
“No—if you eat the spell, how am I supposed to hide you?” Her voice rippled like a pebble in a pond.
The Fuzzy Orb tilted its head, tail swishing like grass in wind, as if it caught her meaning.
It bounced twice like a rubber ball; on the third jump it blurred like ink, then slipped into her arm like a fish into reeds.
“Eh?” Startled first, like a lantern flaring, Lucimia yanked up her sleeve and stared hard as if peering through frost.
Her arm stayed porcelain-smooth, like moonlit jade, no marks at all; she stroked it, silk-soft under her fingertips.
Understanding settled like dawn; this Fuzzy Orb carried its own hiding, no Invisibility Spell needed.
Good—one knot untied like a ribbon; the Fuzzy Orb problem was done.
Urgency bit first, like a hawk’s cry; she needed Yuna to start Reversion, because minutes had drained away like sand.
They whispered a plan, warm trust like a hand by the hearth; Yuna said she’d back any plan without flinching.
They triggered Reversion again; light folded like paper, and they woke on the floor, the soft bed gone like a dream.
“We’ll need a chance to set another bed,” she muttered, like a sigh under breath.
She sprang up like a drawn bow, changed fast, then pulled Yuna as they slipped out the window like swallows from the eaves.
Caution rose first, like a tight drumbeat; she brought Yuna to rewind at once, so time wouldn’t spawn new thorns.
For safety, she veiled them both with an Invisibility Spell, thin as mist over a lake.
She poured mana like a river; the Flight Spell howled, wind knifing her eyes shut, so she raised a wind shield like a clear wall.
A thought clicked first, like a bead on a string; magic spread wide as an ocean, unlike a Swordmaster forged like a single blade.
When speed peaked like a taut wire, Lucimia used Instant Movement; she vanished and reappeared two kilometers away, like a spark jumping.
She flew ten more seconds like an arrow, then blinked again, the rhythm snapping like drumbeats.
Leap and glide, leap and glide; horizon rolled like waves, and she reached Val Town in a breath.
From afar, the town boiled like a pot—smoke spiraled, fire speared the sky, spells streaked like rainbows, and blades flashed like lightning.
Bazeroth hovered alone, a dark star; a flaming bird on the left and a bird of Frost on the right, his staff birthing octopi like storm-surge.
“Of course it’s this…” The weight in her chest sank like a stone; her gaze pinned the battlefield like a spear.
A red-haired girl darted roof to roof like a fox; sword in hand, breath ragged, armor torn, black stockings ripped like nettled lace.
That girl was Desty, a flame amid rubble; no one else.
Desty was the only Holy Knight who could face Bazeroth head-on, while others held back stray magic and octopi like men waist-deep in flood.
Behind her, White Swords whirled like snowy swallows, mowing down summoned octopi and sometimes lunging at Bazeroth like needles.
He slipped aside easily, like a leaf on wind, and flicked a Fireball Spell as casual as ash.
She gritted her teeth first, like stone on stone, then dodged—no choice.
The tide pressed down like a mountain; if this kept on, defeat would come like dusk.
A Fourth Rank Swordmaster holding an Eighth Rank Mage was already a cliff-face feat, yet she split focus to guide other White Swords to aid knights.
Even outmatched, she held the line like a gate, protecting comrades like a shield; that iron will drew Lucimia’s respect like a bow to a master.
But respect didn’t mean agreement; instinct tugged like a current—if it were her, she’d run and spread word like a bell through the streets.
Fine—just a thought passing like cloud.
She kept her purpose fixed like a compass; she wouldn’t assist here.
She’d summon the Fuzzy Orb and have it do Devouring, erasing the Magic Array like chalk washed by rain.
“Hey… Fuzzy Orb? Come out?” she asked her arm, voice soft as a reed-flute.
It slipped out, blinked at the open sky like a startled rabbit, then wrapped her arm with its tail, trembling like a leaf.
Lucimia’s silence fell like snow; she had no words.
Is this how an Evil Entity should look? Others bare fangs like tigers; and you… a fluff in the wind.
Oh, fine—she herself was a Dark Deity, and even she sometimes… like a moon hiding behind cloud.
“Forget it.” She let the thought go like a kite string, then sank toward the Magic Array, lowering altitude like a feather.
“Fuzzy Orb, as my Evil Entity, it’s time to do what a servant of your deity should do,” she said, voice steady as an iron bell.
At once, it grew solemn, like a guard at a gate.
“Good. My first command as your Dark Deity—go Devour that Magic Array below,” she ordered, words crisp as a blade.
The Fuzzy Orb’s tail stood like a flag; it climbed to her arm’s peak, then leapt into air like a tossed seed.
Midair, it swelled like a storm cloud, expanding fast until it blanketed the Magic Array like a shadowed pavilion.
“It… can get that big?” Awe cracked through her like dawn.
It opened wide and inhaled like a vortex; the Magic Array shuddered like a plucked string.
Carved stones tore free and flew up like birds, and it gulped them in one long draught like a whale.
Its mouth clicked shut—pop—and the huge Fuzzy Orb shrank in a blink, small again like a pebble in palm.
It looked up at Lucimia, tail wagging like a metronome, eyes saying, Look, I’m great—praise me.
Then it noticed the empty air below like a missing step; it couldn’t fly and dropped like a sack.
Falling, it thrashed its tail like a flag—this time not joy, but a plea.
Lucimia’s speechlessness returned like a tide; she sighed and dove to catch it like a falling apple.
It clung to her arm with its tail like a vine, rubbing its body against her like a cat.
“It feels… like I adopted a pet,” she muttered, humor thin as smoke.
Boom—!
The sound rolled like thunder; Bazeroth had noticed the ruined Magic Array and, in fury, detonated a massive sphere of flame like a small sun.
Fire washed the town like a red tide; Desty couldn’t escape, a lick of flame catching her hair like a fox’s brush.
Bazeroth lunged at Lucimia like a maddened hawk, both elemental birds and a swarm of octopi storming her like a black wave.
Calm steadied first, like ice on a pond; Lucimia murmured to Yuna, “Reversion, Yuna.”
“Mm!” The world turned white like snowfall, and Reversion surged like a river rewinding to its source.
