The tower spirit chuckled softly, like mist parting to reveal the thoughts in Lilo’s heart. A translucent figure shimmered into view before her like moonlight on glass.

She was a graceful, mature woman, face akin to Merlin’s yet softened like moonlight on water. Silver-white hair spilled to her toes, cradled by Arcane Power like a gentle breeze. Deep-blue eyes shone like a lake that sees through hearts.

Just standing there, she radiated warmth like a hearth at dusk. She drew people close like moths to a gentle flame, making her seem more real than reality.

Awe rose in Lilo like a tide. Such a True God-tier mage—if this tower spirit held a body, how different would she be from the Demon World’s races?

“I’m not that grand a creation, Miss Lilo—come with me,” she said, her voice like a soft stream.

Her smile was a spring wind. She whooshed open a teleportation array like ripples in glass and led Lilo in. Unease pricked Lilo like nettles; could this spirit read minds like Merlin? The feeling was like standing naked under noon sun—too exposed.

The spirit said nothing and drifted ahead like a feather on wind. They passed through the array with a soft shimmer, and the view opened like dawn.

The Mage Tower was steel and gears, cold order like winter frost. Ahead lay its opposite—a wild beauty like spring earth.

Her eyes filled with an endless emerald forest. Birds and insects chattered like raindrops, and blossom-scent lifted to her nose like morning dew. Surprise blossomed; she scanned the trees, wondering which corner of the Demon World this was.

“This is still inside the Mage Tower,” the spirit said, voice like a reed flute. “It’s a forest crafted by Lord Merlin. Come—what you need lies ahead.”

Shock flared in Lilo like lightning behind clouds. As they walked, she searched the forest like a hunter tracking snowprints, hoping for a trace of craft. She found no seam, no stitch—only nature flowing like a river born of heaven and earth.

Two paths formed in her mind like twin branches. Either this forest was True God grade—beyond her sight, alive like a spirit race. Or it was simply real, not a made thing at all.

She knew carving space inside a Mage Tower wasn’t easier. It was like chiseling jade within clockwork—the design made inner expansion harder than opening wild land outside.

So most carved spaces became blank voids without elements. Or they were dense crucibles with too many currents of Arcane Power. They served to refine treasures of heaven and earth, or to store mighty artifacts. A forest like Merlin’s was snow in summer—near impossible.

With a True God’s force, it would be a small world, a sealed sky. Yet to Lilo, this forest held no scent of Arcane Power—dry wood kept from rain. How had Merlin grown such a grove?

Hunger for power flared in her chest like a torch. So far she had seen the handiwork of only three True Gods: the Valkyrie, Uroboros, and Merlin.

The Valkyrie was sheer martial force, a storm yet to show its full thunder. Uroboros tangled with creation itself, able to lift one to True God’s height. Duke Dion fell like a dry leaf under the Valkyrie, proof that a “True God” can be an incomplete crown.

As for Merlin, beyond settling Aphelia’s crisis, there was this forest—a silent miracle like moonlit frost. Every path of power was fog beyond her reach; the mist only made her crave the sun. The Valkyrie had given her the seed to become a True God. That made the forbidden fruit glow even brighter.

No wonder—at the mountain’s peak stands the True God. Who doesn’t yearn to climb?

“Guest of the Crimson Dragon Clan—this forest isn’t as complicated as you think,” she said, words falling gentle as rain.

Her gentle voice drifted ahead like rain on leaves. Her phantom arms parted a thicket like silk, and a clear river glinted into view before Lilo.

The river shattered her understanding like glass under a hammer. She stared, mouth slightly open, as if caught by moonlight on water.

The water was clear to the stones. The riverbed blazed with high-purity Mana Crystals, bright enough to blind, and treasures of heaven and earth nestled like pearls. A brush of intent tasted an ocean of Arcane Power—one breath could profit a Demigod.

Yet until she stood at the bank, Lilo felt no trace of Arcane Power, like wind hidden behind glass. She couldn’t have sensed the stream at all.

Through the lens of Arcane Power, it wasn’t a brook. It was a boundless sea woven of magic, horizon to horizon like night without shore.

The spirit smiled like starlight. She stepped forward, slipped her misted hands into the stream, and scooped up a crystal-clear fruit, offering it to Lilo.

“Please eat it soon—it will help you reach True God, like a seed drinking rain.”

A sigh slipped from Lilo like steam from tea. She had no secrets before this mage and spirit. She couldn’t name the fruit, but its distilled Arcane Power shone like winter crystal—top-tier beyond doubt.

Guilt pricked like a thorn. She reached out, then pulled back, thinking of sleeping Aphelia. She gave a sheepish smile like a cloud unsure to rain.

“Leave this fruit for Aphelia—she needs it more than I do,” she said, her tone like a shaded path.

At first it had been the Valkyrie’s commission, care traded like coin. But Aphelia’s open trust and her wound-sleep turned Lilo’s inner struggle to rain. She chose to give the fruit to Aphelia.

She told herself, I can reach True God anyway; why fret over sooner or later? The thought soothed her like cool shade. She relaxed before the fruit, no longer trembling like a leaf.

Her awkwardness even tickled the tower spirit; a laugh rang out like silver bells. Then the spirit spoke softly, voice like falling petals.

“Be at ease, guest of the Crimson Dragon Clan,” she said, words like warm rain. “Lord Merlin has already prepared for that lady—take this and absorb it without worry, like drawing breath under pine shade.”

Embarrassment surged back like a tide tugging the shore. Lilo’s fair face flushed; she turned away, avoiding those gentle eyes like a deer skirting moonlit water.

Seeing that, the spirit understood, like an elder watching spring folly—it was only human. She drifted close like a small cloud and popped the fruit into Lilo’s hands. She vanished like mist at sunrise, leaving a gentle laugh behind. Lilo turned away, pretending not to look at the gleam in her palms like a hidden star.

The forest settled into birdsong and insect choir. Lilo stood alone like a stone by a stream, cradling the crystal fruit.

Meanwhile, within the Mage Tower, on Aphelia’s side, a storm brewed under glass.

The Mana Crystals around her melted like ice under flame. Arcane Power liquefied and slid along the magitech device like rain on bronze, revealing Aphelia’s slight figure.

Aphelia writhed as if caught in a nightmare; her fists clenched like knotted roots. Silver-white Arcane Power and pitch-black Arcane Power burst forth, orbiting and colliding like storm fronts. Waves echoed through the Mage Tower and shook its bones like thunder rolling through hills.

The surge was a beacon. The vanished tower spirit and Merlin appeared almost together, floating in midair like cranes, watching the change below.

“Lord Merlin, has it begun...?” the spirit asked, breath like frost.

Lights flickered through the spirit’s eyes like meteors. She watched the twin powers in silence, her voice crisp as winter air.

“Yes. It’s begun. We waited so long—the day has finally dawned,” he said, like sunrise breaking frost.

Merlin’s tone stayed calm, yet his ice-blue eyes burned like coals under snow. His whole aura flipped—fire where cold had been.

While they spoke, the clashing powers began to fuse. After brief skirmishes like needle to awn, they yielded and, under some guiding force, flowed together like two rivers.

On Aphelia’s skin, black thorn-like markings rose like creeping vines. Look closely—the tattoos were moving, gliding slowly across her body like fish.

The dark thorns tightened toward her heart like a storm’s eye. In their place, silver-white Runes etched her skin like moonlight, then vanished in a blink like a firefly’s wink.

The fusion in midair reached its knife-edge. The two opposing forces broke into shards and reformed, making Merlin clench his fists until a thread of blood slipped out like a red string.

His face stayed calm, but the famed Merlin was taut as a storm-wire. Black and silver fragments resisted briefly, then melted into pure Arcane Power, blending as one like snow into river.

The two extremes vanished like mist, and a brute, unreasonable force began to gestate like thunder in a womb. At that instant, Aphelia’s eyes snapped open like blades drawn.

A terrifying power erupted around her like a volcano tearing the sky.