“The stage of judgment rises now!”

Thud!

Scarlet halos bloomed like circling blood moons, hemming the two of them in; each ring glowed with a dangerous red.

“Sister— the stage is set. Will you dance with me?”

A rare smile thawed across Ling’s face like ice under spring sun.

Anxious first, then careful steps. Ever since she entered the Yama Hall, she moved like a cat on frost. Fear gnawed when she faced the Yanluo King, afraid even death wouldn’t draw help. Pride bent; for the first time she bowed, only to be thrown out like a leaf in a storm. Despair washed cold, yet a coal of hope smoldered in her chest. She didn’t force the iron gate, didn’t threaten Yingji; then pain struck, sudden as needles under the skin, and she knew it was Yingji’s trial. She clamped her jaw and endured that senseless ache like standing in sleet.

Both wounds stoked a fire she’d never felt. No vent, no outlet. Now was a perfect furnace to burn that overflow of anger.

She didn’t notice her smile had become a mirror to Sin Ling’s— the same morbid curve, a cracked porcelain grin.

A black book appeared in Sin Ling’s hand, not the Script, but one titled Sin.

“First Sin: the crime of genocide. Now, the execution begins~”

The book flowed into a black long spear. Ling knew that weapon— one of the tools the so‑called gods hurled at her when she first set foot in this world.

Sin Ling raised the spear high, ignoring the E‑rank Luck curse, and launched it like a thunderbolt.

“Ragnarök!”

The spear became a falling star that streaked for Ling’s heart. A brawler’s mind held her steady; she wouldn’t dodge. This was venting, not a duel— if she flitted around, what catharsis was that?

She lifted her right fist. Green mana wrapped her knuckles like fresh ivy.

“Break for me…”

Her pink fist met the black spear with surgical precision, and the weapon tasted the shatter once again.

Sin Ling didn’t rage; a pleased smile touched her mouth like dawn gold on cold steel.

“That’s more like it, my dear sister. Look at your madness. Isn’t this your true face?”

Annoyance first, then retort. “Oh, shut it~ I’m the world’s cutest loli. How could I look ‘mad’? Even if I did, it’s just my tiny pink fists thumping someone’s tiny chest, okay?”

Sin Ling sweat‑dropped; even her poise wobbled. “Uh… Sister, can we keep a little shame?”

Ling puffed her meager chest like a proud sparrow and wore a gleam of triumph. “I only speak facts. Also, are we fighting or not? Our BGM just slid from hot‑blooded to, emmmm, sparkly‑cute.”

Since Ling put it that seriously, Sin Ling didn’t dare drag this into slice‑of‑life yuri. “Sister, that was just one god’s sin. I have ten thousand more. I’ll scale it up. Tell me when you can’t hold on~”

A black longbow and a black longsword bloomed in her small hands, an odd pair that drew Ling’s curious gaze like a moth to twin flames.

Answer first, then motion. Sin Ling braced the sword on the bow, pulled the string with one hand, and drew black mana to the blade tip like storm clouds to a peak.

“Revolving Flower of Death: Bloom!”

Whoosh—

The sword leapt from the string and its speed spiked to the limit. Cracks spiderwebbed along its skin like frost, then it split into copies— a flock of identical blades, all winging for Ling’s heart.

“Yare yare.” Ling adjusted the black cap that had somehow perched on her crown, its back blending into her golden hair like shadow into sunlight. “How you underestimate me.”

Even with a swarm of blades screaming in, she stayed as calm as a deep lake. She spoke in the drawl of a certain marine biologist, her face a mask of ease.

She didn’t move. Eyes shut. Right hand lifted. A crooked, dismissive smile waited like a trap set in tall grass.

—Here it comes!

“Ora ora ora ora!!!!!!!!!!”

Her fist drummed in that rhythm, each “ora” a hammer beat.

The first sword that was about to pierce her heart met a sudden fist and slammed into the ground like a fallen comet. The second, bound for her knee, flew off with the same fate, swatted like a fly. The third. The fourth. The countless that followed.

Every blade was sent spinning away. Ling stood unharmed, a statue in the eye of a storm.

Sin Ling nodded, then clapped lightly before her chest, a small lantern of encouragement flickering there.

“I’ll praise you a little. Well played~”

The front half warmed; the back half iced the words with sarcasm.

Exasperation first, then glare. Black lines of annoyance crawled across Ling’s forehead. She’d worked to stop that torrent, and the enemy tossed out a breezy “well played~”— sour as stale tea.

“Hey, you— the one who keeps calling me sister. If you’ve got more ‘punishments,’ use them. If it’s only this, I need to hurry. I can’t keep Alicia waiting.”

A thicker Sin book formed in Sin Ling’s hands, a slab of shadow heavier than the first.

“Don’t rush, Sister dear. Your sins can’t be that few. That last attack could erase a major nation. You’re too strong— that’s why it feels light.”

Delight first, then boast. “My foolish imouto~ you finally see your big sis’s might and omnipotence? Skip the fight and jump to the scene where I add you to my harem.”

Sin Ling ignored the chuunibyou sparkle. The book opened itself like an eclipse unrolling.

“Next, I announce the second sin—”