Remi and Flan ignored Rafi’s hoarse yelling like a torn bell on the far side, and turned toward Ling on the bed, bleeding black mana like smoke.

They threw both hands high, voices braiding like twin bells. “Divine Sanction: Spear of Piercing!”

Dark lances condensed in their palms like night turned to iron, and they drove them straight for Ling’s skull like lightning for a tree.

The spears slid through skin like ink through rice paper, angling for the brain like a hunter’s arrow finding its mark.

Crack.

Midway, something inside snapped like a warded mirror, and the black lances unraveled to dust like ash in wind.

Shock hit first, cold as ice water, and Remi jerked, then steadied as she saw Ling lie still, as if time had never rippled.

She forced her breath flat as a blade, telling herself it was some auto‑defense in Ling, a brittle shell she’d already broken like old lacquer.

Another spear coalesced, a shadow branch in her grip, and she raised it overhead like a headsman’s axe to strike again.

“One more, and we’re done,” she said, voice like frost on steel.

The black spear drove for Ling, but a flame‑wreathed long blade flashed in midair and caught it like a comet cutting the night.

“Bastard! Who are you!” Remi’s fury burst like a thrown torch after the second ambush cracked her rhythm.

No one stood in the room, only empty air like a pond without ripples, as if the blocker had never been.

Wariness rose first, tight as a drawn bow, and Remi narrowed her eyes; blocking was simple, vanishing at arm’s length was not.

“Flan! Open your senses. The moment you find them, tell me.”

“Got it.” Flan closed her eyes, calm as a still lake, and her mana sense swept out like a net catching even moving wind.

Remi set the spear behind her like a tail of shadow, ready to strike, while only Rafi’s thin breath rasped like a leaking reed.

Silence lay heavy as snow; Remi believed one step would ring out like a bell in her bones.

Tap.

The faint footfall brushed Remi’s ear like a moth wing; she stabbed on instinct, but the spear kissed only air like mist.

Flan smiled, bright as a spark. “Sis! Her aura slipped! Lock confirmed! Right front!”

Trust came first, clean as flint, and Remi thrust that way without hesitation, her spear biting a shadow like a fang.

Steel kissed skin; the tip split flesh, and a thread of blood spun up like a red silk ribbon in air.

Flan’s small nose twitched like a fox’s. “Sis, it’s Alicia’s scent!”

Spotted, Alicia stopped hiding; she caught the cloak draped over her like nightfall and flicked it off with a lazy hand.

Remi’s gaze stayed on the fallen cloak like a coiled snake, and Alicia read that caution like script on a banner.

“Well, well,” Alicia purred, smile like a crescent blade. “Didn’t think that stranger’s cloak worked this well, even on our so‑called envoy of divine vengeance.”

Remi looked at Alicia again and felt it, a mysterious force surging in her like a tide, lifting Alicia’s power to match her own.

That wasn’t good; it was a shadow behind a shadow, a helper equal or greater, a hidden mountain standing at Alicia’s back.

“Sis, that power in Alicia feels fixed,” Flan murmured, voice like cool rain. “We can’t stall it out and let the boost fade.”

A weight settled first, heavy as stone in Remi’s chest, and she understood; whoever backed Alicia wasn’t simple, and saving Ling might be their aim.

Remi held, a storm leashed; Alicia lifted her Demonblade like a black flame and beckoned with a hooked finger, taunting, “Not coming?”

Her heart stayed still as a deep well; words without magic couldn’t pierce the armor of her will like pebbles against a wall.

Alicia only grinned, excitement flicking like sparks, and twirled her Demonblade as if testing a new wind. “Then I’ll come. Let’s see what her gift can do.”

She kicked off, body blurring like heat haze, and was in Remi’s face in a blink; Remi snapped her spear across her body like a bar.

Clang! Steel screamed on steel, a shriek like tearing slate, and sparks flew like fireflies in a storm.

Alicia’s hands pressed, force surging like a breaking wave, and Remi was shoved back hard, slamming the wall like a thrown hammer.

She wiped gold blood from the corner of her mouth, eyes wide as cold moons, and surprise and doubt flooded her like a burst dam.

“Why… why did your strength jump this high in a breath?”

“No big why,” Alicia said, voice light as drifting ash. “It’s borrowed. After this fight, I return it like a loaned blade.”

Frustration struck first, a dull ache in her chest like a bruise, and Remi thought, Is the world dead‑set on stopping me from killing Ling?

Why throw out a monster now, just to block my work like a door barred in my face?

“Don’t space out,” Alicia warned, voice like a knife’s kiss.

Her slash came fast as lightning over water; Remi twisted aside like wind, but she was a beat late and steel bit.

Meat parted; Alicia’s strike carved Remi’s shoulder, a savage gash opening like a red mouth under torn cloth.

Remi gathered mana to knit flesh like thread through fabric, but it balked, blocked like a river dammed; it never reached the wound.

“Why? I remember your blade didn’t have this kind of effect!”

“Let me recall your name… oh! Remi, right?” Alicia’s tone was playful as a cat. “She said you had to be hurt to listen.”

“She also said normal hits barely work, so she blessed my Demonblade with wounds you can’t repair, like scars that refuse to close.”

Crisis flared first, hot as coals, and Remi’s mind snapped sharp; this wasn’t a fight to coast through, this needed everything like a last stand.

“If you’re that eager, then come! Flan!”

“Right!” Flan heaved Rafi up from the wall, where she hung like a torn banner, and whispered, “I’ll borrow a little of your strength.”

Black battle‑mist flowered in Flan’s hands like night‑blooming smoke and swallowed Rafi whole like a wave swallowing a stone.

When the haze thinned, Rafi crumpled boneless to the floor like a puppet with cut strings; Flan glanced down, face wrinkling with disdain.

A flick of her small hand, and a coil of black fog gulped Rafi down like a snake taking an egg.

“Back to your Underworld,” Flan said, voice bright as a bell. “We’re partners with your Demon King, so we won’t break the pact and kill you.”

“Go heal up; that hit was just a slip of the hand, so don’t sulk.”

She drifted to Remi’s side like a feather on a current, and a clear staff shimmered into her grip like ice made solid.

“Alright, Sis,” she said, eyes gleaming like stars. “I’m ready. Let’s start the slaughter.”