Bevi figured he couldn’t hold out long. His shields drank only his own mana, like a candle in the wind. The girl rode ambient magic like a river. Her level was worlds apart, sky to soil.

“Is this girl really not a Dark Deity? Truly not fully tainted?” The questions beat inside his skull like drums in fog. To him she looked like a villain, power in hand yet no urge to save. He couldn’t understand, like staring at a black tide against a blank shore.

While he thought, the trees around them shivered like reeds in storm, and the ground heaved and shifted like breathing earth. Lucimia wrought it all with her own magic, calm as moonlight.

“This is a Ninth Rank Mage? Almost touching Tenth?” Shock slid cold as rain down Bevi’s spine. “Freely at will… the peak of magic… a human prodigy born like a comet?” He knew running on would be folly, like chasing the horizon; he had to act.

He raised his voice, a reed in the wind. “Hold on a moment, beautiful human girl. Will you hear my method first? It won’t need your effort, nor deepen your taint.”

“Sure,” Lucimia said, crisp as frost, yet her pursuit flowed on like a hunting hawk’s shadow.

“…Can you stop first?” His words were thin smoke.

“No,” she answered, eyes like cold stars. “I’ll grab you, hear your method, then decide whether to Devour your memory.”

Lucimia decided to be the villain today, like a dark cloud refusing to break. No one would block her hunt for intel; she’d seize Temporal Authority and go home, like a migratory bird.

“…” Bevi had no words, his thoughts scattered like leaves. He had misread her nature and creed, expecting harmony because she cooperated with Nirael.

That was wishful thinking, a mirage on hot stone.

He abandoned resistance, a swimmer letting the current take him; he knew he absolutely couldn’t run. Why?

The bat stopped beating its wings and settled on a branch like ink on rice paper. Then it reshaped, melting into a human form. A young male stood there: short black hair like night grass, blood‑red vertical pupils like twin slits of sunset, a tear‑mole under each eye, classic Bloodkin fangs, ears a touch pointed, and skin pale as winter porcelain.

The classic image of a Bloodkin, carved like a legend.

He looked young, but you couldn’t read a Bloodkin’s age by face; from his earlier tone, he might be older than that Ninth Rank Mage, like an ancient pine.

At the same time, branches under Lucimia’s control coiled around him like snakes and pinned him to the ground like stakes.

Lucimia drifted down before Bevi, her silhouette like a moonlit blade, and finally saw his features.

“No wonder you never cut the link to the bat,” she said, gaze like frost. “Cutting it should’ve kept me from Devouring you. Turns out the bat was you.”

“Yes,” Bevi said, shrugging like a tired crow. “Can you hear my method now?”

“Speak,” Lucimia said, arms crossed like closed wings, ears open as calm water.

Seeing a sliver of room to bargain, Bevi let out a breath like mist and shaped his words. “Erwei City’s people are puppets, so the rat swarm can’t absorb energy. I have three ways for Nirael to Devour energy.”

“First, detour. Another city near Erwei City has similar numbers, like a second granary. But it’s uncertain; Ment might’ve slaughtered that city too, like a scythe through wheat.”

“Mhm.” Lucimia nodded, a small ripple on still water, showing she was listening.

“Second, take Rexi to the Royal Capital. Her ability can aid Nirael, like an extra blade of wind, making up the missing energy.”

“Huh?” Lucimia’s surprise fluttered like a sparrow. “Didn’t you say you’d protect her? Why send her to war?”

“I did,” Bevi said, voice like embers. “But she should avenge, take back what was hers, not let Ment squat on it like mold.”

“You’ve got a point,” Lucimia said, palms lifting like a shrug. “But she has no memory. She seems unwilling to chase her past, like turning from old snow.”

“If you choose this path, persuade her to retrieve her memory,” Bevi said, steady as a stone. “Her ability can guarantee she finds it at once, like a key to a locked chest.”

“At once? That magical?” Lucimia’s doubt rose like fog. “What’s her Authority Power?”

“Pick the second method and I’ll tell you,” Bevi said, silence like a knife hiding in silk.

“Tch,” Lucimia clicked her tongue, sharp as flint. “I can just Devour your memory later.”

“…” Bevi fell silent, his mouth a shut gate.

Lucimia waved it off, a breeze through grass. “What about the third method?”

“The third…” Bevi paused, resolve hardening like ice, then spoke low. “If Rexi truly refuses her memories and chooses escape, let her be. Let the rat swarm Devour me. My energy equals that of a city’s common folk. Afterward, protect Rexi. I promised the old city lord.”

His eyes were firm, like stones in a river, already set to face death.

“Your energy equals a city?” Lucimia asked, curiosity glinting like dew. “You have a Blessing? Which Dark Deity’s?”

“I don’t have a Blessing, but…” Bevi closed his mouth, staring at her like a steady flame.

Lucimia understood, the thought settling like dust. If it’s not a Blessing, it’s a special ability that required trials. That kind of energy outweighs Blessings, like mountains over hills.

“In short, my intel comes from it,” Bevi said, laying it bare like a map.

“I see,” Lucimia nodded, the motion quiet as falling snow.

“Alright, I’ve said my three methods. Which do you choose?”

“None,” Lucimia answered without a blink, clean as a blade.

Bevi stared at her, blank as winter fields. Before he spoke, Lucimia cut in, voice cool as rain: “Why would I help you? I only need to Devour your intel. Why take risks and burn effort for messier choices? What’s in it for me? Why protect Rexi?”

“…” Bevi held his tongue, silence pooling like night.

“In your eyes there are three options,” Lucimia went on, words falling like pebbles. “In mine, there are four. Which one do you think I’ll pick?”

“…” Bevi stayed silent. Even a brief thought told him anyone would choose the easiest path, like water finding the low ground.

Lucimia’s goal wasn’t to erase Ment, but to harvest intel, a fisherwoman drawing in nets.

“Besides,” she said, a shadow in her tone like storm light, “I don’t really trust you. Why help Nirael? Help humans? Help the human empire? You’re Bloodkin, yet you’re ready to sacrifice yourself?”

“You can Devour my memories,” Bevi said, voice weighty as thunderheads. “See if I’m lying. See if I truly want to help, or scheme otherwise.”

“If I can Devour that memory,” Lucimia said, a thin smile like a knife edge, “why not Devour all your intel outright?”

“I still don’t trust you or Rexi,” she continued, suspicion creeping like ivy. “What if it’s all a plan with Ment? You slaughtered the city on purpose, then push me to pick other routes.”

“Method one, maybe that other city’s already dead, just to stall me like mud. Method two, maybe you plant a mole to hinder me and Nirael, like rot in the keel. Method three, maybe Ment set a curse on you, and the rat swarm Devours it and rebounds on Nirael. Or no curse—since I can use Devouring Authority to purge it—but perhaps you hold some Bloodkin trick that affects Nirael. Or your energy’s not enough; you just want to fool me.”

“So why should I trust you?” Her gaze sank over Bevi like twilight. “On your word alone?”

Lucimia’s face darkened, shadowed like a storm under bamboo.

Seeing that, Bevi let out a heavy sigh, like wind through old pines, and spoke earnestly. “Human girl… not everyone is like you. Many in this world want to drive away Dark Deities, each in their own way, like lanterns along a river. If my sacrifice lets Nirael destroy Ment, why wouldn’t I?”