“A special day?”

Aphelia asked, curiosity flickering like a moth to a lantern, and only now noticed the street dressed up like a festival bride, glittering with pomp and bustle.

This was the capital of the Demon World, a river of lights and voices, and its opulence rolled like thunder. She even saw caravans snaking toward auction houses, their scale a sky above the human world’s earthbound trains.

Humans might boast earth-dragon mounts at best, but these caravans rode magitech rigs driven by Mana Crystals, their Arcane Power blooming like violet mist. Aphelia’s eyes caught the glow like stars netted in night water.

It was pure magitech supremacy, cold steel and crystal outpacing muscle and leather. Even if the human world had crystals to burn, their craft wouldn’t touch this, not in carts nor in dreams.

The thought tugged a sigh from her chest, a reed bending to wind. She still missed her homeland like a distant shore, and habit made her compare the two, even set the Demon World up as a shadowed rival.

While they spoke, a vast merchant company rolled past, banners flowing like a tide. If Aphelia hadn’t felt no heavy aura, she would’ve mistaken it for a royal procession under black and gold.

“Today’s the capital’s Founding Day,” Lilo chimed, eyes bright like dawn on blades. “Every trade’s tax-free, the Adventurers’ Guild offers full rest, the royal feast fills the night, and… the Demon King’s boon most of all.”

The words lit sparks in her gaze, bright as fireflies; you could tell she was waiting for it like rain after drought.

“I see. Tax-free trade… that’s a revel for merchants, a drumline of coin,” Aphelia laughed softly, like water against stone. “But the treasury officials won’t miss a harvest day, will they?”

She shook her head with a smile, the motion a willow swaying. Trade tax is a spine in any economy—she didn’t believe the Demon World’s clerks wouldn’t add harmless sleight-of-hand under the velvet.

Lilo blinked, then laughed, like bells in a breeze. “You’re sharp with this stuff, Aphelia. Did you study it?”

Aphelia smiled like a cat who’d found cream, slipped her arm through Lilo’s, and drifted forward. “Study? Hardly… just seen too much of it.”

Feeling Aphelia lean in, Lilo’s cheeks warmed like sunset on clay, then cooled back to calm. She led Aphelia onward, pointing out sights as the city unfurled like a painted scroll.

With their strength, they crossed half the districts in a stroll, but Aphelia felt a thorn under silk the whole way, a sense pricking at a note out of tune she couldn’t name.

This was the Demon World’s capital, so she left no bold marks, her caution a hand drawn back. The Mage Tower under Merlin housed two True Gods; would the royal house not hold similar thunder behind closed doors?

“Lilo… what’s that?”

They halted at a park, and the statue rising from trimmed grass hooked Aphelia’s gaze like a fish on line. In this clean garden, the scarred stone stood like a storm-blown tree, wrong and right all at once.

Leaves veiled the inscription in a rustling shawl. Aphelia felt a strange resonance, a bell in her bones. Her hand lifted on reflex, wanting to brush away the fallen gold to read the name beneath.

It was a faceless warrior, armored like iron rain. One arm had broken like a cliff-face sheared, plates were torn like bark after fire, a veteran hewn by a hundred battles, yet his spear still thrust upward like a pine refusing winter.

A will bare as steel reaching into dusk; a faith chasing a pinprick of light in the dark. The air around him felt like breath, not stone, and the statue seemed less sculpture than a man standing in storm.

Seeing Aphelia caught by it, Lilo shook her head with a fond smile and patted the bench beside her, a gentle beckon like a quiet drum.

“This one takes time to explain, Aphelia. Come sit.”

Aphelia meant to peel back the leaves, but Lilo’s call drew her like tide to shore. She sank beside her, lazy as a cat in sun, stretched, then leaned against Lilo’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded like a lake at noon.

“Most people get snared by that statue,” Lilo murmured, a thread of memory moistening her eyes like mist, then gone as quickly as dew. She gave a rueful smile and went on.

“The royal house never gave it proof, and only Master Merlin carved its inscription. But… according to some elders, that’s the god who carved open the Demon World, a nameless hero.”

“He left no mark in our written chronicles, no relics dug from soil. The only ones who remember are those who study our past like miners in the dark.”

The words hit Aphelia’s heart like a wave against cliffs, calm face hiding storm. When she became a Titleholder, she had watched the river of time run deep and wide.

The Demon World’s chapters were smothered by some power, and even with that rank’s strength she couldn’t see through the gauze. She’d once suspected the royal house shrouded its own roots, hiding iron under silk.

Now, hearing Lilo, she felt a deeper current, a story sleeping under stone, and the chill of it slid along her spine like shaded water.

“Among common folk, tales flow like birdsong,” Lilo added, voice soft as dusk. “But one thing stays: their respect for this figure. Where that feeling comes from, no one knows. In time, it becomes a legend, and the legend becomes a hush.”

She fell quiet, looking at the statue with a stillness like winter moonlight. No extra expression, only a calm that felt like returning to a place you can’t name.

Seeing that, Aphelia understood and let thought drift, leaning into Lilo and loosening the knot in her chest. Lilo’s heartbeat thudded steady, a drum under warm cloth, and it soothed her like tea in rain.

They nestled together on the bench, sharing the afternoon sun like honey and the breeze like silk, until ease cradled them. Sleep folded over their shoulders like a shawl.

When they woke, the sky had darkened to plum, evening creeping in like a cat.

“Lilo, Lilo, wake up.”

Aphelia nudged her gently, a touch like feather on cheek. Looking at that sleeping face, tenderness welled up like spring water, and her palm stroked Lilo’s cheek in a hush.

That small gesture sparked a sudden flare. Lilo’s hands caught hers like a hawk grabbing prey, and a murmur slipped from her lips, blurred like rain on ink. Aphelia startled, thinking she’d been caught, and tried to pull back.

“Mother… Mother…”

The word hung like a leaf falling, and Aphelia’s breath softened into a sigh. Her tensed arms uncoiled, then a weight dropped in her heart like a pebble sinking deep.

By rumor, Lilo was lesser-born in the Crimson Dragon Clan—fine on the surface, a mirror-smooth lake. But Aphelia had seen human nobles treat lesser-born like shadows, some even “handled” them in quiet rooms, cold as knives.

And her own knowledge of Lilo’s past was too thin, a paper lantern against wind.

That shift pulled Lilo from sleep’s warm river. Her lashes fluttered, and golden slit pupils flashed open like blades. Dragon might roared at the edges, ready to break like storm.

Aphelia moved quick, Titleholder power wrapping Lilo’s force like silk around flame, not a spark spilling to grass or air.

“Lilo, it’s me. Ease your power; we’re still in the park.”

She bent close and breathed the words by Lilo’s ear, soft as night rain.

Seeing Aphelia, Lilo shook free of the wild pull, drawing her Arcane Power back like nets from sea. The fierce gold narrowed into calm, and the Demigod’s pressure settled into quiet stone.

“Ah… Aphelia, sorry. I slept too deep,” she said, rising slowly, surprise skimming her face like light over water. She felt rested, rare as a clear day after storms, and her smile warmed like embers.

They stood, ready to wander out beneath the growing glow of lamps.

“Lilo, any sights left for me?” Aphelia asked with a playful curve of lips, voice like wine.

“Mm… remember that caravan we saw this morning?”

Lilo rolled her shoulders, Arcane Power circling like clear current, her mind snapping awake like a taut bowstring. She pulled a pocket watch from her robe’s inner fold, checked the time, then lifted her gaze.

Aphelia nodded, not sure of Lilo’s aim, though the morning caravan had etched itself in her memory like ink. For a country lass at heart, that much magitech moving as one was rare as a qilin in snow.

“Then let me show you a Demon World auction,” Lilo said, smiling as she hooked Aphelia’s arm. Before Aphelia could object, Lilo’s tug carried her onward like a breeze stealing a kite.

Aphelia shook her head with a helpless laugh, the sound a silver thread. If Lilo wished it, she would go. And truth be told, she wanted to see what marvels surfaced today. This was the royal capital on Founding Day; oddities would bloom like night-blooming flowers.

With that in mind, she understood Lilo’s intent, and warmth rose in her chest like dawn. She let Lilo lead her into the evening lanes.

Not long after they left, a figure in a white robe approached the statue, steps quiet as snow. They held a bouquet like a small forest, sighed a breath thin as mist, then let Arcane Power brush the fallen leaves aside like a soft wind.

The flowers rested at the statue’s foot, and the figure bowed, a silhouette bending like a willow under moonlight.