Qianya narrowed her eyes, studying the only boy in our crew, then sighed, a tired breeze rippling a still pond.

“Not the time for your tall tales. No time to explain—get on.” Her words snapped like a pulled bowstring.

“Drive???” His confusion popped like a soap bubble under sun.

“What else?” Qianya looked at him, speechless, her gaze flat as slate. “Quit arguing—just stick with us in a bit.”

“Relax, Qianya. You steer; I’ll handle the rest!” His bravado flashed like a tin badge in moonlight.

“Mhm.” She nodded, a reed dipping to the wind.

“Let go of me, you perv!” Her shout cracked like a whip across a field.

“Nooo~ Holding you like this feels safer. Little Tangxue, protect me, okay~” The whine curled like smoke from damp wood.

“I mean your hand! Keep groping and I’ll toss you off!” Her threat bit like frost across bare skin.

“Boohoo~” The sound puddled like rain under eaves.

“…” Yanfengle felt out of place, a lone pebble in a stream that flowed around him.

“Swiftwing Feather: Spirit Carriage.” The call chimed like a bell in mist.

The feather in Qianya’s hand swelled tenfold, a moonlit sail unfurling, big enough to carry four into the sky.

“Whoa… so that’s how it works… Wait up, I’m not aboard yet—hey!” His panic fluttered like a sparrow chasing a departing cart.

We seized a lull while the Vampire’s blood thralls were bogged down and arrowed toward a dead corner, skimming shadows like dragonflies over water.

Scarlet fog drowned the sky, a bleeding veil over the clouds; Qianya said don’t touch it—brush that web, and the Vampire would sense us in a heartbeat.

So we flew low, hugging rooftops like swallows, and the quasi–Divine Artifact screamed with speed— to common eyes, we were a violet bolt ripping the dusk.

“Almost there… a few minutes and we’ll hit the breach they mentioned…” Her voice was a thread pulled taut, humming like wire.

“Mm.” The answer fell like a pebble into a well.

I had to admit, the Vampire’s barrier was a night dome spread wide—covering Starfate City, stretching near a thousand kilometers like a dark sea.

Suddenly my skin crawled; a chill pinpricked my back like needles of rain, and I shuddered.

“Something’s wrong…” The words rose like smoke from damp tinder.

“Hm? What is it… Qianya… classmate?” Yanfengle asked, his tone wavering like a lantern in wind.

“That guy broke the cordon. Didn’t you notice? We’ve been ‘almost there’ for a while—stuck like ants on a drum face.” Her frown folded like storm clouds.

“Now you say it—that crack in the barrier looked like a sun, bright and near, but actually…” His voice faded like a trail into fog.

Qianya’s brow tightened. “Tsk. Truly useless—couldn’t even hold ten minutes.” The disdain snapped like ice on a river.

“…” Silence pooled like ink.

Not good. No more playing dumb—I had to rally, heart thudding like a war drum. After all, I—

“Qianya, can you feel the Vampire’s exact position?” My question shot like an arrow into the dark.

She paused, listening, eyes quiet as frost—then said, “...No.”

“No need to sense… I’m right behind you.” The rasping male voice slid up our spines like a chill blade, and we whipped around as one.

“!” The shock burst like lightning in a black sky.

…

A few minutes earlier.

“Don’t slack! Strike while he’s hurting! Give him a full combo!” The command cracked like thunder over a ridge.

“Got it!” Replies sparked like flint.

“Right!” Voices fell into line like spears in a rack.

“Heavenstar Rockburst!” The spell flared like a volcano under starlight.

Before Edgar Warren’s silhouette even reformed, waves of brutal magic and war-tech hammered his position, meteors slamming into clay.

“Is that all your attacks have… ended?” His taunt seeped like oil across water.

“Then next… it’s my turn—” His voice coiled like a serpent, fangs glinting.

“Rockfall, Thousand-Rock Burst, Desolate Star, Thousand Mountains Piled, Nine-Stone Killing Array—” Names rang like stones tossed into a canyon.

“Nine-Dragon Blaze Extinction, Fire-Thunder Thousand Wounds, Ten Thousand Flames Heavenfall—” Flames roared like a red river tearing banks.

The adventurers and the City Lord gaped, mouths open like doorways in a storm. Had they been pretending earlier?

“What are you staring for? Toss skills while he’s still talking!” A teacher snapped, sharp as a hawk’s cry.

“Oh!” The answer leapt like sparks.

“Demon-God Possession! Break—aaah!” The howl raked the sky like claws.

“Thousand Thunders Cataclysm!” Bolts fell like a silver waterfall.

Edgar Warren never finished his line—a storm of skills pounded him, and the ground where he stood cratered into a yawning pit like a giant’s missing tooth.

When the smoke thinned like gauze, he was gone—no shadow, no scrap, ash scattered like chaff on wind.

A gust of cold wind slithered through, and Edgar Warren rose again like embers relit, stubborn as winter grass.

“…” This guy… an unkillable cockroach, scuttling through fire and boot.

“I hate it most when people interrupt while I’m speaking.” His displeasure flicked like a knife’s flat across a table.

“Blood! Soul! Rounds!” Dark-crimson, translucent shells screamed in, comets with fanged tails and bad news.

“Form up!” Unlike the other adventurers, the teachers of Heavenly Melody Academy moved with a shared pulse, words fitting like stones in an arch.

“Hold the pass! Rock Wall!” Stone surged like a cliff shouldering a tide.

“Layered Gale! Wind Shield!” Air braided like bamboo in storm.

“What do I shout… Flame Vortex!” Fire twisted like a dragon chasing its tail.

“Don’t go foggy-headed, Lile. No time for flair.” The rebuke cut like a crisp leaf.

“Okay!” Her answer flicked like a match.

Edgar Warren’s strike didn’t break their defense, which irked him, a grit in the gear—but he knew these folks were stalling, paper screens slowing the tiger.

Since a moment ago, he’d felt a familiar scent— that mouse who loved to hide had scampered into the field.

No quick finish here. He had to catch her before the trail cooled like tea.

Edgar Warren snapped his fingers, and a shadow peeled from his own, ink splitting like river ice.

The shade rose and coalesced into a Blood Clan man, who dropped to one knee, head bowed like a blade to a whetstone.

It was the Blood Clan Grand Duke of the Duskmoon Empire—Koginid.

“My lord.” His voice was a bell in a crypt.

“You. Work with my avatar and kill them all.” The order fell like iron rain.

“Understood.” The reply held like a nailed plank.

Edgar Warren slit his wrist; a dozen drops hit the ground, wriggling like crimson grubs, then knitting into a human shape—his duplicate, wearing the same eerie smile, twin moons over a dark lake.

One particularly bright red drop flicked toward Koginid, a ruby bead flying like a firefly.

Koginid’s face lit with feral joy—his body surged, muscles singing like bowstrings; his power spiked, centuries of stagnation at the ninth tier cracking like an old jar.

One more step and he’d be divine; a quasi-god is still a god, a star rising through fog.

“My thanks, lord!” His gratitude bowed like wheat to wind.

Edgar Warren waved, calm as stone. “Don’t disappoint me.” His tone tolled like a distant bell.

“I’ll fulfill the mission, my lord!” The pledge struck like an oath carved in bone.

“Well well… I’m watching the once untouchable Duke Koginid lick boots. Heh…” The sneer fluttered like a black butterfly.

“Aunt Youdie, drop the snark, okay? He’s coming to kill us soon—eyes up.” The warning cut like a whip.

“Ha? Him? I’ve squashed more bootlickers than flies.” Her laugh crackled like dry twigs.

“Hey hey, hush. His master’s gone, he’ll bite us next. So scary…” The tease slid like a cat’s tail.

“Hahaha, Koginid, look at you now.” The mockery floated like confetti in a gale.

The Blood Clan Grand Duke nearly burst, pointing at us, rage boiling like a kettle. “You know nothing! Serving my lord is my honor! You lowly species dare compare yourselves to us!?”

“True. Lapdogs are born ‘noble’, mhm~” The sarcasm dripped like honey with ash.

“Hey hey… ease up. The owner’s gone; the dog’s chewing.” The quip nipped like a playful fox.

“Wow, dog bites! Help!” The fake scream fluttered like a kite.

“Save yourself! You poked him too hard… and he’s got a swarm of avatars—messy.” The warning flicked like rain beads.

Elsewhere on the field.

“Your Highness, the ‘trash’ around you is cleared.” A ‘plain villager’ in rough cloth knelt to Ying Xuan’er, one knee planted like a rooted tree.

“I told you I could handle it…” Ying Xuan’er pouted, lips puffed like rose petals.

“P-Please be careful, Your Highness. Our enemies are blood thralls who don’t value lives.” The little maid, Yueqin, stepped forward, voice soft as cotton.

“Yueqin, you… We agreed to sneak out and play together, yet you’re still like this!” She sighed, a breeze stirring willow leaves.

“Forgive me… please punish me, Princess.” Her head bowed like night to moon.

As a princess, of course she had hidden experts guarding her, shadows in plain clothes, safety sewn into her steps like silver thread; even on a battlefield, worry fell away like dusk.

Even if Yueqin said nothing, the shadow guards would follow, footsteps in dew.

But she didn’t need protection now— the Queen of the Blood had granted her a core of magic, a spring inside a stone; she came to this battlefield to taste the air and weigh her wings.

I wonder how that girl named Qingsheng Tangxue is doing— I want to poke her cheek, a soft dumpling in my hand, surely plush as new snow.