True God’s might—what mortal could stand against it?

Terror hit first, a cold tide flooding her chest. Even with Aphelia unleashing all her Arcane Power, she lasted only heartbeats. Her barrier shattered like glass in a storm. Her sea of consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind, crumbling under a god’s erosion.

Then the vast array faltered, like a mountain pausing mid-quake. The pressure peeled off her in an instant. Strength left her limbs like water. She collapsed, a puppet with its strings cut.

Before the True God Array, she was dust in a gale.

She gulped for air, breath scraping like sand. Terror smeared her face. Only then did she notice her black robe, drenched like rain-soaked cloth.

Death had leaned close. That was the truest sketch of what she’d just lived through.

Her fists, hidden under the robe, clenched on their own. She wrestled the tremor in her bones, then used the Valkyrie’s spear like a staff and dragged herself upright.

Inhale. Exhale.

She pressed fear down like a lid on boiling water. The tremor stayed, a fine quiver like a leaf in a breeze, but within a few breaths, she forced herself to bear the lingering might hanging over heaven and earth.

She tried to stir the Arcane Power within her, slow and careful, like touching a sleeping snake. Nothing answered. The tide around her refused her call.

The colossal array sat like an emperor over the arcane world. Arcane Power knelt like vassals, meek and reverent before its throne. Only that high emperor could command them.

If Arcane Power wouldn’t move, what about the elements?

A tiny flame sparked in her palm, a firefly in dusk. It died at once, severing their bond. No matter how she reached, the elements shut her out like a sealed gate.

After several tries, frustration heavy as lead, Aphelia let go of the attempt. She lifted her gaze to the vast array in the sky, a wheel of fate turning above her.

Without Arcane Power or elements, she had no way to oppose the middle-aged man. In her condition, even crossing the True God Array that yawned between the temple and herself was a cliff she might not survive.

Ask for aid, then? At this point, seeking help from Nero should have been the obvious path.

She couldn’t do it.

A sweep of her senses brought fresh dread. Since the True God Array unfurled, the space nearby was gripped by a force divorced from Arcane Power and elements, cut off from the wider world like an island in fog. Even if she tried to call for help, her Arcane Power couldn’t pierce it.

Worse, that force refused analysis. The moment her sensing brushed it, the thing lunged like a famished ghoul, snatching at her senses and Arcane Power together. She tore away at once; otherwise, it would have swallowed her whole.

Even a slow mind would see the shape of it now.

Without doubt, this force beyond Arcane Power and elements was the source of the Plague of Beasts. This True God Array was likely the truth behind the Hydra Plains’ long torment.

The so-called plague was probably the Hydra Clan’s research spawned from this array. They loosed it on the plains to harvest results. Now that same fruit was used by the middle-aged man to birth an even darker shadow.

Such an ending—perhaps the Hydra Clan’s self-sown retribution.

As that thought formed, a silver-armored knight appeared in front of her, abrupt as lightning. His ancient greatsword kissed her throat, cold and heavy as winter. The vast Arcane Power around him stayed untouched, a quiet threat laid bare.

“Didn’t take long to meet again, did it, beautiful Aphelia?”

The voice from inside the helm was familiar, stopping her short. The sword, too—she’d seen it before, a relic with a memory.

“But for now, cooperate. I’d rather not spill your blood.”

He lifted his visor. Aphelia blinked, then gave a tired, crooked smile and let herself sink to the floor.

Red hair like flame. A grin a little wild, a little careless.

No doubt—this silver knight was Oz, the Demonic Knight who had once saved her.

“You’re not going to fight back?”

Oz eyed her pliant posture, surprise glinting like steel.

“What would fighting do? As you see, I can’t commune with the Arcane Power around us. Why waste the struggle—just to die with more style?”

She stared at the blade at her throat, then sighed, helpless.

“Good. That spares me effort. In that case—”

“Are you truly a Demonic Knight?”

Aphelia cut him off, voice steady as if the blade weren’t there. Even Oz had trouble reading her through that calm.

By now, she had a rough picture. Nero’s promised rescue was a lie. The truth was likely a slaughter-trap laid by the Demon World’s royal family for the Hydra Clan.

The reason was simple. By studying the True God Array and even birthing the Plague of Beasts, the Hydra Clan had threatened the crown’s rule. This was the result: ruin written in blood.

An entire clan butchered, turned to bait for their experiments.

Of course, all of this rested on Oz being who he claimed.

“Of course I am,” he said, a careless smile flaring like a match. Crimson Arcane Power flowed around him, poured into the sword’s guard. Chains unfurled like metal vines and wrapped Aphelia tight.

Powerless, Aphelia could only let Oz bind her and haul her toward the temple, like a fish dragged in a net.

The moment they crossed the True God Array, nothing strange happened, not as she’d expected. It surprised her, a small jolt like cool water. Then she thought: Oz must be one of the array’s handlers. Shielding her in passing would be trivial work.

“Ah, Oz. I thought she’d struggle more,” a voice called, oily as a slick. When Oz set down with Aphelia at the temple’s entrance, the middle-aged man was already waiting, smile stretched like a mask.

“Your tastes are vile,” Oz muttered, disgust like ash in his tone. He tossed the chains into the man’s hand, then turned deeper into the temple, steps echoing.

“She’s yours. Don’t forget your promise.”

“Naturally, Sir Oz. I keep my word.”

They brushed past each other. The man took the chain and tugged, dragging Aphelia to the edge of the temple’s threshold. He crouched, eyes crinkling with a smile that felt like a knife.

“Rare, isn’t it? To have the chance for a face-to-face chat.”

“We could… pick another place,” Aphelia said, unease beating like wings in her chest. She feared a man who treated lives like kindling.

“Another place? No. Here is perfect. You’ll watch a great moment born. You’ll be one of history’s witnesses. And I will be remembered forever.”

His bloodshot eyes locked on the vast array, a hunter’s stare. His grin spilled wide, spittle beading on his lips, madness glowing like fever under the skin.

“Indeed, the True God Array…”

“True God Array? No, no, no. The greatness I mean isn’t just that. Truly great is my towering play of revenge.”

He thrust his face close, breath hot as forge air. She flinched back. Her heel slipped beyond the temple’s edge. The void yawned. Whoosh.

He didn’t plan to watch her smash on the stones. He flicked his wrist and caught the chain, then heaved Aphelia back onto the high platform with a casual strength.

She slammed onto the small steps, pain biting deep as frost. With Arcane Power ebbing, the impact rattled her bones.

“Sorry, sorry. I lost my composure. Please understand—I’m far too excited!”

His words tumbled like loose stones. A counterfeit apology hung on his lips, but the malice in his eyes was ice-cold, enough to chill her marrow.

“A revenge play? Against who?”

“So you don’t know? Figures. Nero’s very good at using people. Since you’re his reserve knight, let me show you his true face.”

He walked closer and set her upright, like propping a fallen statue. Eight elemental lights flared in his palm, bright as stars around a dark moon.

“Five years ago, I was the hope of the Hydra Clan’s revival—fastest to reach Demigod among the Demon World’s new blood. Not boasting. Bear with me.”

He preened like a peacock, pride glittering. Aphelia saw not a shred of humility.

“But once Nero came to Blackhold, took up his mother’s ties, he duped the elders into serving him. He began researching the True God Array you see.”

“Of course everyone craves True God power. Become a True God, and even toppling the current Demon King isn’t hard. Even I supported it at first.”

On the surface, Aphelia stayed calm, a lake without ripples. Inside, waves crashed, storm-dark and rising.