What’s happening?! Her mind flashed like a sky split by lightning.

Her body felt wrong, a joint wrenched out of place, but Ling shoved it aside like fog and sprinted for Alicia. The knife hovered three centimeters from Alicia’s brow, a dragonfly’s sting from blood.

"Magic Cannon: Instant Cast!" The shout cracked like thunder over stone.

Panic surged like floodwater, then clarity cooled her like river ice. Instant Cast—her mind snapped taut like a bowstring. Weaker than a charged shot, sure—but enough to swat a throwing knife... right?

Her Magic Cannon caught the knifepoint, a green comet hitting steel. A transparent shield bloomed on the blade, soap-thin glass over a wasp’s stinger. It shattered like ice, drained her blast like sand, and the knife kept flying, a cold star slipping through clouds.

Damn it! The curse burned bitter as bile.

"Magic Cannon: Instant Cast!" Her second shot tore loose, a green streak like a willow-whip in rain. Even light can’t beat time; the knife was already kissing Alicia’s skin.

Crack... The sound crawled like frost along bone.

The knife punched through her skull, clean as winter wind through paper. Death waited ahead, a black sea without a shore.

Confusion hit first, heavy and numb, like snow on lashes. Alicia never understood what happened. She didn’t have Ling’s hawk-keen eyes, nor Ling’s lightning thoughts. She only saw a sliver of space peel open before her, and a pink afterimage streak straight for her like plum petals in a gale.

Cold traced down from her forehead, a thin river on stone. That pink strike must’ve found her brow, she thought. No pain—just a hollow hush—so I’m dead.

In that final cliff-edge moment, no sixth sense bloomed, only hearing sharpened like a night cat’s. Ling’s voice reached her like a bell in fog, and Alicia’s lips curved despite the dark. Hearing Ling at the end wasn’t the worst of fates.

Her body went light, a leaf riding wind. Is this death? Her feet stopped feeling the floor, like stepping off a cloud. Was she really flying?

Thud... Her body toppled back, fell like a felled reed, and lay on the cold ground.

Chill seeped into her back like winter jade. Her eyelids turned to iron gates. Just before they closed, a thread of golden hair slid into her vision, a sunray piercing a crypt. Her fingers, frost-stiff, reached for that gold, the only light in this gloomy room.

But golden hair is like the sun. It warms from afar; it never lets you touch. Her hand trembled in the air like a moth to a flame, then dropped to the floor. Cold poured through her veins like river ice.

It’s... a little chilly...

Thump... Alicia’s heart gave her one last drumbeat, then quieted like a lake at dusk.

"Alicia!!!" Ling’s howl hit the ceiling like a storm wave; anyone could hear the grief bleeding through it.

She swung toward Lian. Lian stared back, calm as a still pond. Beside Lian stood a silver-haired woman, statuesque and unscathed, a moon beside Lian’s quiet star—such a sharp contrast to Ling’s ruin.

"Was that you before?!" Ling’s voice lashed out like a whip. That strange moment had cost Alicia her life. Of everyone here, only Lian could’ve tangled her.

Aer stepped forward and sheltered Lian with her back, meeting Ling’s red-rimmed eyes like steel to fire. "Don’t dump your sins on us. You lost Alicia because you weren’t strong enough. And that murder-face? Point it at Dio over there, not us."

Her words struck like pebbles in a bell, and Ling blinked. Right. It all started with Dio. If he hadn’t come to fight... if he hadn’t tossed knives like hail... if he just didn’t exist...

Everything clicked like gears—she wasn’t wrong. Dio was.

"Limit Magic Cannon: 100% Output!" Her roar burned with anger and a bitter edge, wildfire under a midnight sky. Five neat ranks of cannons opened behind her, green pillars like bamboo in a storm, then they fired in a savage volley.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Crater after crater chewed the platform like locusts on a field. Whatever this stage was made of, it held like bedrock in a flood.

Dio dodged, ragged as a hunted wolf, slipping through emerald fire. He kept cutting a glance toward Aer, reading the mockery on her face like ink on snow. She knew he’d contacted the World Consciousness; she hadn’t exposed him. She’d used it, strung him along like a kite in her wind, until he realized every step was inside her palm.

"Was this in your plan too, Aer?!" His roar was raw as torn bark. The road home to his daughter vanished like a bridge swallowed by fog. No scheme could escape her net. He felt it in his bones—vampires have limits.

Thud! A bind cinched his ankle like a hidden root. Trip while sprinting, and you eat dirt. He pitched forward, sprawled on the stone like a felled stag. Green light rolled over his vision, Ling’s restless Magic Cannon swelling like a tidal wave. No escape.

“Daddy—” A silver-haired little girl smiled at him from the heart of the light, a moonbud blooming in spring. His fear melted like frost in sun. Dio felt his mouth curve, a father’s tide pulling toward its shore.

“Saki...” The name left him like a wind-borne petal.

The Magic Cannon swallowed the rest. Raw nature mana burned vampires like noonday sun. In a blink, Dio drifted away as dust on the wind.

"So. Got it out of your system?" Aer’s voice floated from behind, cool as night rain. Ling’s storm eased a notch; vengeance drained like ebbing tide. She’d only thrown fifty 100% shots at Aer—Lian had blocked every one, a mountain holding back the sea.