They slipped back into the bedroom; heart rushing like rain on tiles, Lucimia scrambled and hauled Yuna up like tugging a kite in wind.

“We need to move fast. Elyssus will make Bazeroth hide, so we can’t tail him,” Lucimia urged, voice tight as a bowstring.

Elyssus could talk to its followers without any rite, like thunder speaking through clouds; it would push Bazeroth to vanish and head for another Magic Array site.

A prickle of unease, like ants under skin, crept through her. After she used Fuzzy Orb to devour the Array’s existence, what would Elyssus or Bazeroth remember?

If their minds said the Array never sat here, yet they’d seen Lucimia pass like a shadow at dusk, would that spark suspicion?

Probably not; they’d likely think Lucimia came to cut down Bazeroth, a blade flicker in mist.

Either way, her pulse settled like ink in water. Time for plan two.

They changed again, took Yuna, and retraced the last loop’s steps, wings of intent beating like swallows. Soon, they reached Val Town.

This time Val Town wasn’t fire and screams, but peace layered like quiet snow.

Lucimia opened her Magic Eye to seek Bazeroth, gaze sharp as a hawk’s.

“...Nothing,” she said, voice low, a drum under cloth.

No sign of Bazeroth, only Desty and the Church’s Holy Knights and mages, armor and robes glinting like frost.

Makes sense. She’d used four minutes to arrive, a candle-wick of time; if Bazeroth got Elyssus’s order at the first chime, he’d have flown four minutes too.

“Where would he go?” Suspended in midair, she thought, a leaf caught on a breeze.

A backup spot wouldn’t be in another town. In earlier loops, Bazeroth was exposed and hunted by the Church; he wouldn’t dare trick another town to start an Array.

There was only one path, like a lone stream through rock: a wild place.

“Mm... if it’s out in the wild...”

She sifted through the map in memory, pages turning like cranes on the wing.

Nearby sat a forest few visited, a dark sea of trunks whose name she’d forgotten; beasts prowled there like ink blotches, so people rarely moved inside.

Bazeroth would likely flee to a place like that; the Magic Array might nest there.

“Let’s go there first,” Lucimia said, resolve hard as iron cooled in water.

With the destination fixed, she flew at full speed, a streak across sky; with luck, she could catch Bazeroth mid-flight.

Or not; four minutes at full tilt could have already carried him far, an arrow past sight.

Anxiety gnawed at her midair, a moth at silk; she wasn’t certain the Array was truly there.

Luck finally leaned her way like sun through cloud. Her Magic Eye pierced the dense forest and found Bazeroth—and that familiar Magic Array carved like scars in earth.

And Bazeroth was ready to start the Array, hands weaving like spider legs at dawn.

“Hmph.” A cold snort slipped like frost. Would she let him succeed so easily?

Clearly not.

“Fuzzy Orb.”

Her call rang out; Fuzzy Orb shot forth, a star popping from sleeve. It swelled midair, opened an abyssal mouth, and drew a heavy breath like the sea inhaling.

The Magic Array below trembled; soil and stone cracked like old porcelain, then tore free, roots yanked up like claws.

“Aaaah, Lucimia!” Bazeroth raged, voice raw, a beast cornered beneath thunder.

He had been a breath away from starting the Array, and she struck like lightning at the bell.

He snapped and fired several spells, streaks like snakes across rain.

Lucimia wouldn’t watch him do it; this was the ripest moment. She shouted, sharp as a blade’s ring, “Fuzzy Orb, eat that hateful old man down there too!”

Fuzzy Orb obeyed; the pull surged. A whirlpool bloomed before its mouth, a dark vortex that swept all below into night.

Bazeroth was sucked up, his body a leaf in a flood; death’s chill flooded his mind like winter tide. He drove his Flight Spell madly, wings of mana thrashing, but the pull was iron mountain and tidal sea. With no resist, Bazeroth was gulped down in one quiet doom.

The uprooted Magic Array went with him, lines and stones disappearing like chalk in rain.

“...That strong?” From afar, Lucimia watched, heart pounding like a drum on a cold night.

She’d need heavy effort to stand against Bazeroth; Fuzzy Orb had eaten him in one bite, a tiger snap in brush?

Maybe... you be the Dark Deity; I’ll demote myself to Evil Entity and follower—she joked inwardly, a spark in gloom.

Yet a truth surfaced like a fish: her Evil Entity wasn’t bright, but it felt far stronger than Elyssus’s brood.

The Blue Ringed Octopus was one of Elyssus’s stronger Evil Entities, scales of power slick and sly, yet she and Desty beat it twice, rain breaking reeds.

Reason fits. The octopus excelled at hiding and imposture, masks over masks.

Lucimia’s Evil Entity was Devouring.

She let out a long breath, fog leaving a window. So, Bazeroth... was he dead? Erased like ink wiped clean, his name voided from history’s ledger?

With Bazeroth gone, his ripples would fade; Elyssus’s power should ebb like a tide.

“Is it done?” she asked herself, voice light as ash.

It felt unreal, a dream behind gauze. Did she really kill Bazeroth? Did Elyssus fail?

No triumph swelled, no banners in wind—only fatigue lay heavy like damp cloth.

She didn’t pop early champagne; instead she held Yuna quietly and flew homeward, a lantern returning through mist.

She had to confirm one thing. Only then could she say Bazeroth was truly gone.

They flew on and on to the outer ring of the Town of Tranquility, roofs like shells under dull sky. Lucimia asked Yuna, “Do you remember the Church’s executor’s name?”

Yes, that was the test; if Yuna lacked Bazeroth in memory, he was dead as a spent spark.

If she had him, then...

“Mm... Desty...?” Yuna searched like touching beads, then answered.

“Oh, I see.” Lucimia nodded; the stone on her chest finally fell, and her breath flowed like spring water, the heaviness gone.

“Then, what did we just go do?” Lucimia asked again, voice soft as dusk.

“We... went to see the scenery? Feels wrong. I can’t remember...” Yuna pressed her head, fog over fields.

Lucimia quickly hugged her, warmth like a quilt. “Right. We went to see the scenery. By the way, do you remember Elyssus? Did it ever show up in town?”

If Bazeroth’s existence was scrubbed and the influence pulled back like a tide, then the rite he started should vanish; Elyssus wouldn’t have descended.

That was theory written in sand; something could replace it like a shadow stepping in. Cole was like that—after being swept clean, Ritch still remembered killing followers, but the target turned into some unknown figure, a name without a face.

Yet Yuna remembered only a trip to see views. Did that mean no one replaced Bazeroth?

“Ely... ssus didn’t show up.”

“Really?” Lucimia’s excitement flickered like a spark catching paper.

“Mm-hmm. But, Sister Luci, you talked about it. What is it?”

“Really? It really didn’t show up?” Joy rose like sunlight through leaves; she almost didn’t trust her ears.

“Really!” Yuna affirmed, firm as a knotted cord.

Lucimia’s lips lifted, a crescent moon; she hugged Yuna with bright warmth.

Did she really resolve it? Truly?

Happiness swelled, a clear stream. If so, she could return to her salted-fish life, keep eating, drinking, and playing, a lazy cat in sun.

No, no—can’t just drift. She should have family send her to the Magic Academy. She’d said before, with her talent, she could play out the full-blooded plot lines a wish-fulfillment tale ought to have.

Lucimia began to imagine the future, colorful as lanterns along a river at night.