Hearing Desty say that, Lucimia hurriedly pulled a mirror from her Storage Ring; the glass showed a truth like frost on stone—she had three eyes.

The third eye bloomed beneath her right eye, cold as moonlight, yet she felt nothing.

Anxious heat rose like steam; she stretched a hand, probing the new eye as if touching a thorn.

At the first brush of her fingers, pain shot like a blade of ice; the mirror slipped, clattered into snow, and she clutched her face.

How could it hurt like burning salt...?

After a long moment, the pain ebbed like a receding tide; Lucimia lifted her head, one hand veiling half her face, hair in disarray, breath ragged.

Dread pooled like ink; how much energy did she have left? Should she tap the power binding Elyssus?

No—absolutely not. If Elyssus escaped, she’d gain another foe; the Authority Power of Deception is harder to face. That path is a cliff.

Then... what now? The path ahead was fog on a cliff.

Panic gnawed like winter mice; she couldn’t steady herself, felt dragged by unseen strings. She needed initiative—how could she seize it?

Analyze... analyze... thoughts swarmed like bees in a jar.

Her mind was a tangled forest; where to begin? She weighed forces, counted hands, mapped the present, her bind, their plan—lines crossing like roots.

What had she missed? This was a battle of analysis, blades of thought; she had to find the Purification Deity’s flaw, a crack in jade.

Bang!

Desty exploded again, a flower of blood in white snow.

Lucimia turned, numb, watching that small body tip downward; flowing blood painted the white drifts with scarlet and dark wine.

Desty died, a candle crushed by wind.

Desty died again, a pattern etched in ice.

Desty kept dying, like a heartbeat cut short.

Every time, Desty died first, like a sparrow shot from the sky.

Huh? Always dead—always first to fall? A track aligned in her mind like rails meeting.

Maybe numbness birthed a strange calm, like frost over fire. While Lev and Nat hadn’t closed in, she thought fast.

She’d always found it strange—why keep shredding her thoughts, squeezing her thinking time, driving her to run like a chased deer...

At first, Lucimia thought they only wanted to burn her energy; the reasoning fit like stones in a wall.

She turned the idea—compass skewed; it wasn’t right, or not absolute.

They drained her to strip her of the strength to oppose the smoke barrier and the Purification Magic Array—like cutting a bowstring.

But there’s a bug; even without the drain, Lucimia couldn’t solve it—like a lock with no keyhole.

Why? She had only forty percent usable energy—what to fight with? In Jaha Town, her double tried Devouring the Purification prison; it didn’t budge, iron under teeth. The Purification Deity knew that.

Sure, you could say she feared Lucimia self-detonating—releasing Elyssus, Devouring the barrier and array like wildfire.

It could break them, yes, smoke torn like paper.

But after that she’d face three Dark Deities, two already past their seals.

No one walks into that storm; she wouldn’t.

Wait—past their seals? Her pupils widened like moon doors.

She remembered the hinge of the problem, a pin she’d missed.

The Purification Deity hadn’t broken her seal. Then why could a sealed Dark Deity sway the real world like wind over wheat?

It was wildly unreasonable, a knot that wouldn’t pull.

By her knowledge, for the Purification Deity to descend power, first a worshipper must start a sacrificial Magic Array; through it she grants Blessings, even on items like seals on jade.

That’s one pillar.

Second, a summoning Magic Array; once open, she can wield conceptual powers, not only Blessings—still a half moon, not full.

Only with those arrays open can she meddle with this world; otherwise, no matter her stored energy, the world stays like glass beyond reach.

Opening arrays needs enough energy to sustain. While open, she draws power and can act; once the draw ends, the array shuts like a door, and she can’t.

See the problem? If so, how is she opening arrays again and again, like bells ringing without pause?

Because someone keeps feeding her energy—like a river into a mill.

Who has such vast energy to keep outputting? Purification is, at least outwardly, good; no massacres—massacres break the harvest.

The Purification Deity wouldn’t like that.

Besides, other Dark Deities exist; she can’t kill them all and funnel the power.

Then who—what mountain shadow?

Lucimia thought of someone... no, a Dark Deity. Ment has been feeding her power like a black spring.

Ment’s energy is stored in the Cross, a ritual the curse demands, a vault of night.

Threads aligned in her mind like woven reeds; a new line of insight surfaced.

But another knot: where is Ment’s Cross? Back to the origin point—shatter the Cross, crack the stone.

Hoo... calm. She breathed deep, drawing winter air; she set her thoughts back on Desty, a lantern in the snow.

Desty keeps dying, and dies first. When Nat and Lev meet them, they first cut down Desty; even the swap-wound curse targets Desty, like an arrow marked.

She remembered the enemies urging her to give up saving Desty—Reversion burns energy, brings pain and curses; save it, they said, solve the barrier and prison.

They seem to crave Desty’s death, and at the first moment—do they fear Desty, like wolves flinching from a torch?

Lucimia felt stupid at the thought; why would they fear Desty? Is Desty the key to breaking the board, a hidden spring?

What in this red-haired girl, all “wisdom,” is worth their fear—what thorn under silk?

Maybe her analysis was wrong; yet circling it like a hawk, she found no better reason.

Or they simply wanted an easy kill for sport, a toy to break; she couldn’t find another cause.

But her gut whispered like wind in bamboo: there’s a detail she hadn’t seen.

To test it, she closed her eyes and began a deduction, lines like ink across paper.

Suppose she abandoned Desty to save energy.

The remaining power still couldn’t solve the barrier and prison, stones unmoved.

In the end, she’d likely release Elyssus, return to full state, and face one versus three.

That clearly favors the enemy; so urging her to drop Reversion fits, like a hand pushing a pawn.

Seen this way, maybe killing Desty at once was to force Lucimia down that road, like herding sheep into a ravine?

Not certain yet. What if she chose repeated Reversions to save Desty, swimming upstream?

In theory she can’t save her; Desty dies regardless—unless she releases Elyssus again. At full strength, she could rescue Desty, like cutting chains.

Wait?! Her eyes widened like startled moons. Isn’t that a contradiction?

Either way, her choice ends the same—so why waste effort?

They have lots of energy, but they’d save it if they could.

Better to pipe it into the prison, speed its completion like stoking a kiln.

So why didn’t they?

A terrible thought bubbled up in Lucimia’s heart like black oil... She might have guessed why the enemy keeps letting Desty die.