After Rafi and the others left, Ling stood like a lone stone in the river, waiting for the Dragonfolk to strike.

A prickle of doubt rose like mist; maybe they wouldn’t come, scared of the so‑called Yokai Lord. Whenever dragons mentioned that title, they shook like reeds in wind.

Stillness settled like dusk; a duel’s a duel, so you wait.

Curiosity flickered like a moth to flame; what is a “Yokai Lord,” anyway? Lord of Yokai? That tracks, since her race flag says Yokai.

Her thoughts scattered like leaves in a gust; maybe there are ranks—great Yokai, advanced Yokai. If there’s a twisted “Bulgarian Yokai King,” wouldn’t that be terrifying? Just kidding—no way there’s a Bulgarian Yokai King…

Her daydreams drifted like clouds until the Dragonfolk finally reached the field, wings carving lines across the sky.

A giant dragon flew at the center, its bulk like six hundred sixty-six thousand tiny dolls stacked into a mountain.

Its fangs curved like scythes, its muscles braided like steel cables; just looking at it pressed on the chest like a stormfront. If she guessed right, this was the top beast—the Dragon King.

Sure enough, the dragon swept down before Ling, gold eyes gleaming like twin suns, pressure pooling between them like heavy rain trapped under a lid.

To Ling, that weight was a mosquito bite on summer skin—annoying, not alarming.

When the pressure failed, the dragon stopped mid‑air and lowered his noble head like a drawn curtain.

Meow? We haven’t even moved. Surrender?

Nope, not that.

Lowering his head revealed a tall, silver‑haired woman standing on the crown, gleaming like moonlight on ice.

She looked about five‑seven, which made Ling’s goodwill drop five points like pebbles in a pond. So tall—showing off? Think I’m jealous? As if. She’d never care about such things.

Irritation pricked like nettles, then cooled; the girl opened her mouth, her light voice drifting like bells. It wasn’t just charming—it carried magic, a thread trying to bind her will.

Ling shook her head, snapping the thread like brittle frost, mind slamming back into her body.

The girl saw the spell break in an instant and didn’t flinch; her gaze warmed like sunrise, oddly approving.

“As expected of Ling. You adapted to the new body fast, spotting the magic in a heartbeat. This control spell’s woven in ancient Dragon‑tongue.”

What?!

The stranger speaking her name hit like a pebble on still water; from her tone, she seemed to know Ling was a traveler between worlds.

Questions surged like a tide, but the girl didn’t let them land.

“Not strange. Whether I call you Ling or not, what’s happened won’t change. You should enjoy the time ahead…”

“Who are you?! Why do you know so much?” Ling’s voice bit like frost.

“That’s better left alone,” she said, voice soft as falling snow. “It’s not a nice thing.”

Annoyance burned like a coal; that smug I‑know‑everything tone grated. Besides, if she won’t say it, Ling can use the [Script]. She’s not stupid.

She flipped open the [Script], mana gathering like green fire in her palm, when the girl spoke again.

“Don’t look. You won’t find it, same as you can’t ever see your own body…”

Ling snapped the [Script] shut, hid it behind her like a fox hiding a jewel, eyes locking on the girl with a hunter’s caution.

Her biggest secret lay bare like bones under moonlight; wariness surged like a blade leaving its sheath. Hard not to be on guard.

“Who… are you, really?”

The woman took Ling’s sharp gaze like a spring breeze and kept talking, calm as a lake.

“You can call me Aer.”

Ling shook her head, wariness deepening like gathering clouds.

“You know I’m not asking your name.”

Aer laughed, a ripple like silver bells turning brittle.

“Haha… You aren’t Ling, yet you speak the very line Ling used the first time. Coincidence? Fate? Either way…” She paused, her smile folding, twisting like a branch under pressure. “You’re really annoying.”

“I’ve never once affirmed I’m Yufan Ling,” Ling said, voice like iron tapping stone. “That’s just your delusion.”

Aer’s twisted look smoothed back into a smile, blooming like a flower.

“Good. Denial is useful. Still, in a certain sense, you are Yufan Ling…”

Revulsion crawled like ants; Ling suddenly didn’t want to talk to Aer. Her words dangled key truths like bait, never finishing the line. And Ling’s body recoiled from Aer like a cat arching at a shadow.

“Enough. Are we fighting or not?” Her tone cut like a blade. “I don’t care to solve your puzzles. I don’t care how you know this book’s secret. Dead don’t talk.”

Aer’s laughter rang light as glass wind chimes, taking the threat like a playful story.

“Still as haughty as ever. It fits—Yokai blood runs proud. Until you can master your blood, it nudges you toward the heights.”

Ling moved like lightning splitting a dark cloud; a green Magic Cannon roared—fwoom—mana carved the air, a spear of light too fast to track.

Aer leaned right like a reed sidestepping a surge; the beam grazed by, clean as a razor, not a hair singed.

“Ling, one last thing,” Aer said, voice drifting like mist. “The [Script] is a very interesting toy. Treasure your time. Try the feeling of being toyed with by the [Script].”

What is she trying to say? Ling’s thoughts darted like swallows as she pushed the [Script] hard, but it was exactly as Aer claimed. The [Script] couldn’t display anything tied to her, like a server that wouldn’t connect—just a line of ellipses rolling like ants, no data ever loading.

As if… this person… didn’t exist.

Yes. Didn’t exist. The idea struck like a cold knife; some deep sense whispered that the world couldn’t find the woman before her. The other side was a perfect absence, an unperson.

In that moment, Ling tucked away her pride like folding a fan; this one wasn’t like the God‑King. She didn’t know why someone so strong would stay under the God‑King’s leash, instead of killing him first.

No doubt—she could feel it like thunder in bones. This person dwarfed the God‑King. He wouldn’t even qualify as a pageboy in her shadow.

“Hee‑hee… Don’t overthink, my dear Ling,” Aer murmured, smile curving like a crescent moon. “Play well. Enjoy all that power gives you. Don’t doubt—these are yours.”

Her lips tilted like the last stroke of a brush, and in a voice meant only for herself, she added—

“At least for now…”