“Yeah. A big problem.” Vosh hovered in the air like a crow on a windline, one leg draped over the other, and spoke like ice over a river.

“I used to truly want the Dark Deities to work together, like wolves in a hunt. Team up to deal with Olivya. Once she died, no one could touch us.”

“But those stupid Dark Deities always nurse pet plots, like rats hoarding peels. Elyssus, Ment, and a few fools who died of their own stupidity.”

She paused, a stone dropping into a well, then went on like a blade sliding free.

“If they’d followed my plan, Olivya would’ve been finished, like a candle in rain. I’d help them break the seal. They’d share energy so I’d break through. Then we’d have a fair duel, like steel on steel, upright and clean. And the result? Heh. A herd of self-satisfied swine wallowing in their brilliance.”

“So, I changed the plan, like a river cutting a new bed. I won’t cooperate with anyone. I’ll break through alone. The day I break through is my day of victory, like dawn over a battlefield.”

“I’ll kill all Dark Deities, like reaping grain. I’ll use their energy to force my breakthrough. Ment was the first. Next is Nirael. And then you.”

She laughed, a cold bell in fog.

“If I can’t kill you now, it’s fine. Olivya wants to use Authority Power to ascend and drive out every Dark Deity, like sweeping a courtyard clean? I’ll cut in front of her cart. Whoever she plans to Devour, I’ll kill first. I want to see what tricks she’s got left.”

Vosh’s smile was crooked, like a hook in murky water, as she watched Lucimia. Lucimia didn’t care for the bait, like a cat ignoring a dead moth. She only worried the Purification Deity might break the seal too early, like thunder in spring, and disturb her quiet harmony.

No matter what, she needed to break through later, like a seed waiting for the right rain.

“Aren’t you afraid all the other Dark Deities will band together and come for you, like a pack of hounds?” Lucimia asked, her tone cool as shade. “You might get swarmed and die first, like a flame in wind.”

“Cooperate? Attack me?” Vosh laughed, like pebbles skittering down a cliff.

“A herd of pigs can’t march in step. Even if they do, so what? I can handle them alone, like a blade facing reeds.”

Alone?

Was she that confident, like a mountain daring the sea?

Lucimia frowned, storm-lines gathering between her brows like dusk clouds. The Purification Deity was tricky, nettles under silk. She sensed their roles might soon flip, like a tide turning.

If Lucimia didn’t want the Purification Deity to slaughter others and break the seal early, she had to stop Vosh, like damming a flood. She could kill Vosh. Or follow Olivya’s plan and Devour. Or shield the other Dark Deities, warn them of Vosh’s aim, like ringing a bell at night.

But those Dark Deities weren’t her people, like stray dogs that still bite. Save them, and they’d still invade the world, like locusts over fields.

Besides, Vosh wouldn’t be stupid enough to step out and say “I’ll kill you,” then duel in sunlight. She’d do what she did here, like a fox in the brush. Fake a partnership, strike from shadow, and dump the blame on Lucimia.

The others wouldn’t unite. If they did, it would be to hunt Lucimia, like crows circling one bright fruit.

They trusted their own schemes and Vosh far more, like turtles hugging shells. They’d never trust Olivya’s descendant, the heir to the Devouring Authority, the executor of the usurpation—Lucimia.

“A bit troublesome,” she murmured, the words falling like ash.

The best solution now was to kill the Purification Deity here, like snapping a bowstring. But could her current state carry that weight, like a bridge in flood?

Lucimia stared at Vosh, gaze heavy as rain, measuring where to cut if blades crossed.

After a heartbeat, the answer flashed like lightning—first move.

Yes. First move, like an arrow leaving the string.

Her Authority and Vosh’s clashed by nature, like fire and frost. In a clash of Authorities, what mattered was who took hold first, and whose energy weighed more, like two stones on a scale.

She couldn’t match Vosh’s total reserves, like a pond facing a sea. But Vosh was sealed. This projection only touched the world because she’d killed Ment and stolen energy, like ivy climbing a wall. The power she could actually wield wasn’t much. Maybe like Lucimia’s. Maybe less.

If Lucimia struck first, it was possible to kill her, like a spear to the heart—so long as she hit the true body.

How?

While Lucimia thought, like a chess player over a single stone, Vosh thought too, her mind a cold river.

Kill Lucimia? The city walls stood ringed with snowmelt, forming a Purification Magic Array, like a white moat. In theory, Lucimia couldn’t escape a cornered-beast brawl. But if she dared come and expose Vosh’s presence, she had prepared, like a snake with a second skin.

Why announce it? Was she bluffing, like a paper tiger, to test if Vosh truly stood here?

Either way, since the enemy knew her plan, best to kill her now, like cutting the root. But Nirael hadn’t appeared, still hiding like a fish under stone. Lucimia might never let Nirael surface. No Nirael, no energy to harvest.

Heh. She’d let Ment get under her skin and killed him early, like breaking a drumbeat mid-song. The best was to let Ment and Nirael maul each other and then reap like a fisherman in fog.

But that had its risks too. At least now one kill was certain, like a knot pulled tight.

What then? Leave? Her current reach into reality was thin, like frost on glass. A rash clash risked a loss. Better to hide, kill a few more Dark Deities, and restore strength, like feeding a fire.

But walking away felt wrong, like turning your back to surf.

Both weighed choices, two scales tipping in night wind.

For Lucimia, the best was to kill her now. Worth a try, like a dice cast.

For Vosh, the best was to retreat, like smoke slipping through eaves.

Lucimia smiled, a crescent of moonlight. “Vosh, you’d better not run.”

“So arrogant?” Vosh’s voice was a chill wind over stone. “You think escaping the valley makes you my match?”

“I can try,” Lucimia said, slow as dripping water. “And you can try to see if you can run.”

“Heh, why would I run? You that sure?” Vosh’s stare was a blade in the dark.

“No. I said I can try.” Lucimia shook her head, a willow in breeze. “You’d better not run. If you run, I’ll be very happy.”

“Bluff.”

Vosh glared. The water inside Lucimia began to churn, like a pot at boil. Her body swelled, skin taut as a drum. Then—pop.

Did Lucimia die?

No. The one that died was Fuzzy Orb, like a dandelion puff scattered.

Vosh had already guessed the Lucimia here wasn’t the true body, but a Fuzzy Orb stand-in, like a mask on a mask. So she didn’t fear the cornered-beast brawl.

“Don’t run? You’d be happy if I did?” Vosh’s voice went low, a thunderhead without rain. “Is that a bluff, or are you muddying my choice so I step into your snare?”

“Why’s this trick so familiar…” Her lips curled, like a knife’s edge. “Oh. I used it on you in the valley. Heh, Lucimia.”

She didn’t know why Lucimia said those words, like a stone tossed into her pond.

If running made Lucimia’s plan better, Lucimia shouldn’t have said it, like a hunter hiding tracks. If there was no better plan and it was a bluff to make her leave, she should stay and strike, like a hawk stooping.

Maybe Lucimia guessed that too, so staying was more dangerous, like standing on thin ice. Then leave?

Maybe Lucimia guessed that as well, so leaving was worse, like walking into fog.

No matter how she cut it, she could argue herself into knots, like vines around a tree. That was the disgust of this move, like grit in an eye.

It drove you into hesitation and mist, and covered something else, like clouds veiling a moon.

“Heh. You’ve grown some fangs,” she said, a cold smile like frost on steel.