Sensing a sudden True God presence blooming inside Aphelia’s room, Lilo snapped awake. Heat surged with her heartbeat; red sparks flared into roaring flames, wreathed her, then lunged toward Aphelia’s door.

She wasn’t the only one jolted. Shi and Fen, who’d stood watch, stirred like startled hawks; the slower guards rushed in, hemming the room in a tense ring.

Lilo reached the door first and froze, wary as a blade poised to strike. That aura was familiar—pure darkness, cold as a moonless abyss. It had to be Uroboros, the one who had driven them to the brink.

Fear pressed a palm to her chest. She held the others back, stopping guards from blundering in. The red sparks refolded into a Mageblade, and she gripped it, knuckles blanching.

As a descendant of the Crimson Dragon Clan, magic had always answered her like breath to lungs—talent written in blood. But the clan’s name wasn’t forged by spells.

All the Demon World knew it: the Crimson Dragon Clan were apex brawlers, second only to the Demon Dragon Clan. Flesh alone, they could challenge above their rank.

With True God strength humming through her veins, she chose the simplest answer—to meet Ouroboros’s power with her body.

She slid the Mageblade along the seam and cut the door open. No True God aura washed out to meet her—only the thick tang of blood.

It made Lilo frown. Sparks whooshed into flame, painting the room in hot light. The scene hit her like a slap; the blaze rolled once through the chamber, and she sprinted to Aphelia’s side.

“Where are the Nature Mages? Get them here now! Someone needs healing!”

She hauled Aphelia from a spreading pool of blood. Arcane Power flowed from her palm, but as it entered Aphelia, it vanished, swallowed without a trace. Lilo’s face tightened.

“Aphelia, Aphelia, wake up.”

She wiped the blood from Aphelia’s cheeks, voice trembling near her ear. Outside, there wasn’t a scratch. On the floor, the blood said it all—internal damage, deep and cruel. Lilo couldn’t see inside. She could only watch and burn.

Shi and Fen edged close, guilt weighing their shoulders. They’d been placed as guardians. Seeing Aphelia wounded like this, responsibility sat heavy as stone.

The family’s Nature Mages arrived fast, circling Aphelia and beginning their checks. Their faces curdled to the same sick gray. The elder who led them stepped to Lilo, bowed, and sighed.

“Miss… we did our best. But this honored guest is far too strong. We can’t see her condition.”

He sounded helpless. Even as a Titleholder, he couldn’t read her body, much less treat it. Nature Mages specialized in healing, but their strength grew painfully slow. Even in the Demon World, Demigod nature mages were rare.

Most of those few were elusive and eccentric. Some served the Royal Family. With their status, the Crimson Dragon Clan couldn’t call them in tonight.

“No other way?”

Lilo bit her lip till it stung. Looking at Aphelia unconscious, her heart twisted into five flavors at once.

The elder met her urgency with another sigh. He shook his head, helpless.

“We can assist, stabilize, keep complications from spiraling. But for your Demigod friend, we truly can’t treat her wounds.”

He bowed again, then turned back. He coordinated the others; emerald light spread and pooled over Aphelia. Even so, pain pinched her brows tight, and they didn’t relax.

The stir had the whole manor alert. Max and Bett arrived. Max’s face was storm-black, heavy enough to crush the air.

Seeing him, Shi and Fen ducked their heads lower, not daring to meet his gaze. Max ignored them. He cleared the room with a few clipped orders, posted Bett at the door.

He walked to Lilo, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, and spoke low.

“I know the gist, Lilo. Take our honored guest to that lord. He can solve this.”

Confusion flicked through Lilo, then cooled. It matched what Aphelia had planned—to seek that lord. She exhaled half a breath, nodded, and moved to go.

Max stopped her with a raised hand, voice softer.

“Use the side gate.”

He left her with that, opened the door like nothing else was wrong, then pressed order down like a lid. He issued quick instructions to Fen and Shi, told Bett to rally the manor guards, and began a sweep.

Lilo didn’t chase her father’s odd tone. She slipped into martial robes, grabbed a blanket, lifted Aphelia, and teleported straight to the side gate.

A thin fog had settled over the imperial city. Mana crystal lamps on both sides glowed dim as tired stars. It was late; no one saw Lilo’s flash.

Soon, Fen and Shi rolled up in a carriage, quiet as dusk. Gray cloaks hooded their faces. Lilo didn’t question it. She climbed aboard without hesitation.

At that same moment, inside Aphelia’s sea of consciousness, two vast battlefields parted like hemispheres—one black, one white. War raged there, terrible and bright.

Two figures stood as standards for each army, one black, one white, staring across empty air.

The black figure was Uroboros, beyond doubt. Drawing on the sea’s power, she felt near her old strength. Legions of shadow were born in unending darkness, a tide of silhouettes assembling.

The white side held a noble woman in Silvery Armor, spear in hand. A mask hid her face, but her aura bled through—she seemed born to stand above others.

Soldiers in Silvery Armor gathered around her. Their blades were oddly wrought, half Mana Crystal, half enchantment, and half flawless mechanism. Light wings arced faintly behind them, quiet yet strong.

Uroboros didn’t wear her early ease anymore. In her arms lay a sleeping girl. Black hair veiled her features, but the resemblance to Uroboros was striking.

Her shadow army dwarfed the white ranks, yet victory didn’t touch her expression. Worry cracked it, deep and human.

She watched the girl remain unresponsive, sighed, and with a lazy sweep sealed her inside a black barrier. Then she floated upward, high and level, eyes meeting the silvery woman’s gaze.

The Obsidian Scepter settled into her hand again. Under her, countless killers roared for blood, barely restrained from tearing the silvery woman apart.

Uroboros hovered, studying her. The eyes under that silver mask held no ripple of feeling. Uroboros sighed, voice barely a thread.

“If I could, I’d rather not meet you like this…”

Her words faded. The Obsidian Scepter dropped with a ringing clang. The shadow legions surged like a black ocean, a wave set to swallow the white.

The silvery woman descended, placed herself at the forefront, and began a nameless chant. Her voice was ethereal and sacred, a clear blade that cut straight through hearts, spreading over the field.

The shadow tide barreled close. Her eyes under the silver faceplate never changed. She kept singing, as if nothing else existed.

With her song rising, the silver-armored soldiers lifted their blades. Light flared along shields, pure and keen.

They moved up, set themselves between her and the storm. Their steps struck in unison, a steel edge advancing. Even if Mount Tai fell, they would not flinch; they met the howling shadows without fear.

The world seemed to still. Only black and white remained. Black beasts roared into the silver ranks; the answer came as silent blades—no flourish, only clean, decisive cuts.

Her song climbed higher. Without emotion, it still carried raw beauty and force. She raised her silver spear. Radiant light ripped through the sky, flooding the world.

In that instant, the silvery woman stood at the world’s very center.