In that instant, brilliant starlight split the black‑and‑white battlefield like a descending blade, and fell from the heavens.

The entire sea of consciousness froze, time icing over; the silver‑white maiden halted mid‑lunge, and only Uroboros kept her mind awake.

Unease bloomed in her chest like frost in spring. That familiar force pricked at her nerves; the dark Arcane Power hidden around her thrashed like a mortal foe had arrived.

Stars poured out of the light, a galaxy unfolding like a sail. The black‑and‑white field shattered, turning into an endless, deep river of stars that flooded the sea of consciousness. The shadow legion and the silver soldiers were ground to dust.

A white‑robed figure stepped out of that radiance, godlike, looking down upon Uroboros.

“You… you!”

She saw him and roared, rage flaring like oil to flame. Her slender arms locked around the lance skewering her body. Her palms touched the Silver Lance, and skin sizzled like meat on iron.

But she seemed numb to pain. Her eyes burned crimson. She gripped tighter, let scarlet blood stream, and tugged the lance out inch by inch.

Silver‑white fire had already scorched her hands. She howled, and a black serpent’s shadow uncoiled at her side, rearing against the boundless star‑river. With a ringing cry, the Silver Lance tore free trailing silver flame, and blood fountained.

The silver‑white figure above was Merlin.

He watched Uroboros’s frantic struggle. No emotion rippled his pupils. He only gazed, silent, while his staff traced the lines of an array in the air, Runes glowing like frost.

Merlin didn’t even spare Uroboros a thought. He simply ignored her.

“Bastard! Get down here!”

Her mangled hands raised the Silver Lance. Pitch‑black Arcane Power climbed her arm like ink in water, driving out the silver flames and corroding the lance.

The black serpent shadow spiraled upward and coiled along the shaft. A dreadful pressure burst forth again; Uroboros’s True God power erupted, and with all her strength she hurled the lance at Merlin in the sky.

Even the vast galaxy quivered at that throw, the star‑river rippling unstable.

Merlin, still sketching the array, turned his head at last. His face stayed blank as still water. He did one simple thing.

The girl wrapped in a barrier snapped to his side in a tug of force, placed before him like a shield.

Below, Uroboros’s pupils shrank. Even she hadn’t imagined Merlin would stoop so low. She choked her own strike to a halt; the recoil punched through her chest. Blood sprayed from her lips, and the black serpent whimpered like a wounded hound.

“Merlin… how dare you!”

In her memory, the thought of him doing this was absurd, a tale for drunkards.

“Why wouldn’t I dare?”

The crisp, cold answer stunned her. Heat flushed her face; she pointed at him, but no words came.

Merlin didn’t bother to respond. He turned back and kept carving the array. Aphelia’s sea of consciousness began to shake, and the girl floating before him turned translucent, as if the wind would blow her away.

Seeing it, Uroboros shouted, voice edged like a blade.

“She’s that one’s heir! If she dies, do you really think you’ll live?!”

Inside Aphelia’s sea, encountering the silver‑white maiden said enough—she was the Valkyrie’s successor. Uroboros had a tangled past with the Valkyrie, but now only Aphelia’s life could anchor her own.

From what she knew of Merlin, once he dealt with Aphelia, he would never spare her. Under the Valkyrie’s seal, only Aphelia’s breath meant her breath; if Aphelia died, then by their old grudges, she would die too.

And however strong Merlin was, he wasn’t the Valkyrie’s match. He never would be. Especially given those two and their bond…

The thought left her baffled. Why could Merlin do this without fear?

“Ouroboros, that’s the biggest difference between you and her.”

Merlin’s voice was winter‑cold. He bit his finger and, with effort, drew several Runes in midair. They drifted down like snow and sank into the array.

“She can always trust. You always doubt. If it weren’t for you, how would that have happened back then?”

The question struck like a bell. Uroboros fell silent, some old scene rising like smoke. Her fists clenched; her half‑healed palms bled again.

“Did you really think I’d use her as a shield?”

He smiled, a thin, bitter crescent. His staff thrust through the girl’s body in an instant, and the array of starlight reshaped around her as its core, spinning madly like a storm eye.

The once‑brilliant sky of stars collapsed; the light contracted like a tide. A nascent Silver Throne condensed and hovered in the air, its presence heavy as a mountain.

Chains speared up from nowhere and linked to the throne, drinking in the remaining starfield. They siphoned Arcane Power from the starlight to fill the unfinished seat.

The pierced girl stopped fading. Silver armor flowed over her like moonlight on steel, and the staff drew her to lean against the Silver Throne.

Uroboros grew even less steady. Watching the throne take shape, a tangle of feelings churned in her eyes. Her rebuke died in her throat. She tore a rift beside her with black Arcane Power and slipped from the sea of consciousness like a shadow.

Merlin looked drained when the working ended. He didn’t chase the departing Uroboros. He spared her a glance, then fixed his gaze on the girl upon the throne.

He lifted a hand to touch her cheek, but silver radiance barred his fingers. He could only give a rueful smile.

As the throne solidified, the force rejecting Merlin swelled like a rising gale. He cut a crack in the air and left Aphelia’s sea of consciousness.

In the Mage Tower, Lilo saw Merlin’s eyes snap open. He staggered back, weak as a man swept by waves, and fell. Panic fluttered in her chest; she didn’t know what to do.

Moments before, he’d closed his eyes before Aphelia, and his breath had merged with hers like two streams joining. A silver Mana Crystal had encased her, and vast Arcane Power built a circuit around her, feeding an arcane apparatus without end.

But just now, that silver circuit stuttered. A strange force flung Merlin away, and he crumpled. Lilo thought something had gone wrong and rushed forward, but Merlin stopped her with a raised hand.

“Don’t move. It’s over. Let her rest.”

He pushed up on a nearby table, quietly wiped the blood from his lip, and shook his head.

“Then… can I stay here and look after her?”

Guilt pricked her like thorns, and family duty tugged her sleeve.

To the Crimson Dragon Clan, Aphelia’s wounds meant a powerhouse had ambushed her. No matter what, the clan would bear blame for lax watch. If the Valkyrie demanded answers, the clan would pay.

“Relax. Her matter has nothing to do with your Crimson Dragon Clan. Tell Max—yes, that old undying fossil. And stay to tend her. I need to keep my distance for a while…”

As if reading her heart, Merlin spoke coolly. Lilo flushed and murmured an apology. His leave to stay, and his word that the clan bore no fault, let her breathe again.

He pressed a hand to his chest, opened an array with a flick, and vanished to some other corner of the Mage Tower, leaving Lilo staring, a little lost.

Watching him go, Lilo sighed. She had no idea why Merlin disliked her, but since he wouldn’t press the point, the pressure eased off her shoulders.

Not everyone can face a being like that; the feeling was like a fishbone stuck in her throat, and it left her uneasy.

She stepped closer, looked at the sleeping Aphelia, and sighed softly. She chose a place that wouldn’t disturb the arcane apparatus, sat down, and settled her breath.

A gentle female voice sounded by her ear again, and Lilo froze mid‑breath.

“Guest of the Crimson Dragon Clan, please follow me. Mr. Merlin prepared recovery potions for you. He apologizes for the pressure from his earlier release of power.”

Hearing that soft explanation, Lilo muttered inwardly. The aloof Mage Merlin, apologizing? That’d be a miracle. It was probably the tower spirit of this Mage Tower arranging things for her.