If he doesn’t believe me… My gut knots like kelp rope, doubt swaying like a lantern in storm rain.

But my plan hinges on that woman not striking first. If she won’t hurt me, why link hands with a Vampire like Edgar? His smile hides knives; he wants me chopped like bait on a hook.

Am I being too rash? The thought pricks like cold drizzle.

Forget it. I’m here; regret sinks like a stone. If trouble breaks like surf, I’ve got lifelines. Dreamsound shoved gear into my arms—charms like layered shells and armor like iceplates—some even she can’t crack fast. If they want me harmed, they can’t net me easy.

With that thought, my courage rises like a warm tide. I brace, then push straight through the City Lord’s office door, wood groaning like an old mast.

At a time like this, knocking would be a paper umbrella in a typhoon.

Inside, the City Lord sits in his chair like rock in shallow water. He sees me barge in, his brows draw tight like a bowstring. “Kid… coming in without knocking isn’t a good habit.”

Not here… The emptiness chills like fog. I don’t feel that woman’s scent at all; instead a familiar current brushes my skin. If Fan Chen isn’t charmed by her, then I just flew like a gull into a snare.

“Hey… are you ignoring me, kid?” Fan Chen smiles lightly, voice smooth as lacquer.

“Lord, why are you still sitting here like calm driftwood? Don’t you know those cultists have already slipped into Starfate City like worms in cracked stone? If you wanted, you could sweep them out with the city’s tide. Or is it…”

Or is it you opened the gate and let them in like night fishermen?

Shadows loosen like ink. The Vampire named Edgar walks out of the dark with a crescent-keen smile. “All right, all right. Since both sides already read each other’s hand, why pretend? Don’t you think so, mermaid miss?”

“I’d love to argue with you about me being a ‘mermaid,’” I wrinkle my nose, a little wave breaking. “But I’m probably not old enough to be called ‘miss,’ right?”

“For species not leashed to time, does age or title matter?” He chuckles, soft as silk over bone.

“No wonder you’re the sea witch’s daughter.” Fan Chen speaks with iron weight. “Since you dared come alone, I’ll make it quick for you this time.”

His face twists, predatory as a reef eel. In a heartbeat, he’s in battle stance. A spear blooms in his hands like a storm-born mast. Purple lightning coils the tip like serpents, the air around it warps like heat over desert sand. That thunder looks no less deadly than Xuewei’s iceflame, a chill fire that scars like winter on skin.

So direct. The thought slaps like spray. Dreamsound warned me the continent and the ocean are at odds like frost and fire, but I didn’t expect it to be to-the-death. Did Dreamsound really tell me everything, or did she leave reefs uncharted?

No time to drift. First, deal with the waves ahead. My pulse steadies like an anchor. Even if both press me, I doubt they can drown me.

Fan Chen lunges, spear first, his stride like a thunderhead rolling. The Vampire stands aside with a sigh like smoke; he seems unwilling to strike, boredom weighing his fingers.

If it’s only a City Lord, I don’t even need water to answer.

Space congeals; ice shatters. Crack—cold blooms like frosted glass.

If I unleash full strength in this room, secrets spill like ink. I pick low-destruction forms, gentler currents. They don’t care; they swing storms and tear sails without hesitation.

Is Fan Chen not afraid his deal with the cult will be exposed like rot in sunlight?

Smashed space kicks back with shockwaves like breaking surf, forcing him to retreat. He plants his feet and steadies, stubborn as an old pier, then thrusts again, spear a streak of violet rain.

After a few exchanges, the Vampire moves too, hands cutting like night birds. Under three sets of techniques, the office shreds like a paper lantern in wind. If the City Lord’s manor weren’t built rock-solid, it would already be rubble, dust like collapsed cliffs.

Even so, the room’s a ruin, while outside stays quiet as sleeping water. No one senses a thing; wards smother sound like snow.

Am I being ringed like fish in a weir? Is that old woman watching outside, eyes cold as moonlight? Ugh… my skin crawls like chilled scales.

Enough playing.

“Ice Prison Cage!”

It’s the apex of the magic I’ve learned, a crown of frost. I trade attack for control and bind like winter roots. With my current well of mana, Starfate City’s Lord isn’t breaking free anytime soon.

Just as I thought. The Ice Prison snaps shut like a clamshell and locks them both. Even Edgar can’t tear it open without bloodburn, the cruel fire that eats life like dry tinder.

“Hah… first I need to find the Lord’s Token,” I breathe, thought clear as a compass star. “Otherwise, once they break free, caging them again won’t be easy.”

The Lord’s Token is the core of Starfate City’s defenses, a heartstone etched with sigils. With it, you can rouse every ward like a chorus of bells. Don’t underestimate these walls; the city was built to hold against a True God–level assault for a short span, a cliff against the sea.

Turn it to attack, and it hits like a True God’s full-strength strike, a meteor over black water.

If that turns on me and I don’t wear my defensive gear, it’ll smash me like a shell under a hammer.

“Tsk. This cage is a real nuisance.” Edgar frowns, lines sharp as etched glass. With his raw body, he has no way against this frost—unless he burns blood and makes himself a torch.

Fan Chen’s face looks worse. Even with full power slamming the cage like storm waves, he’d need at least an hour to crack it.

Which means if I wished, I could kill him dozens of times within that hour, a grim tide rolling in again and again.

For vengeance-quick Fan Chen, that’s a blow like salt rubbed into a fresh cut.

“Save your strength,” I say, voice cool as shaded water. “You won’t break free. This spell ate more than eighty percent of my mana. You two think you can snap those frozen ribs?”

“Oh? You think I can’t?” Edgar smiles, teeth pale as moon chips.

“Even if you can…” I pout, a small crest of irritation. “I’ll just cast another.”

I pull out a recovery potion as rare as a holy relic, liquid glowing like starmilk in glass, and drink it down. Sweetness runs like fireflies through my throat.

So wasteful. I can hear them griping inside, patience crumbling like dry bread.

“You’re really extravagant.” Fan Chen snarls, eyes venomous as green tide. His teeth grit like grinding stone.

His stare makes my skin itch, a slug’s trail. I glare back, my look a cold blade.

I don’t have a personal grudge with you, do I?

“You don’t really think I came alone without ways to deal with you two, right? If I had no cards, would I step into your net?”

“You don’t really think we have no ways to deal with you, do you?” Edgar chuckles, a sound like silk tearing. “If you do, you’re flattering yourself too hard.”

…

Is he riling me on purpose? Heat spikes under my collar like sparks.

“Lord,” Edgar calls, tone flat as iron. “Decided yet? As you see, the two of us can’t handle her as we are. If you don’t choose, we’ll capsize under this mermaid.”

“…Fine. I agree,” Fan Chen says at last, voice rough as unplaned wood. “But don’t forget the conditions I set.”

“Naturally…” A fourth voice unfurls in the half-closed room, drifting from shadow like mist over water.

A tiny glint pricks the air, playful as a cat’s blink in starlight.