The thought curdled in her mind, dark as storm-water. A lazy voice slid in, brazen with mockery, like a cat’s paw over silk.

“Keep cuddling that notion. When you end up a slave to power, don’t blame me.”

The voice was sweet and sultry, yet it struck like an arrow. It churned her mind like wind on black waves, scattered her cruel, icy impulse, and jolted Aphelia awake from that shadowed mood.

In her mindscape, a delicate girl in feathered robes yawned. She leaned against a lavish double bed, gaze soft on Aphelia’s stunned face. She stretched with languid grace, like a cat waking from a noon nap—irresistibly charming.

Following the voice into the mindscape, Aphelia steadied herself. Wariness rose like frost along her spine.

“Ouroboros… what are you really after?”

The feather-robed girl laughed, light as bells. Whoosh—an ink-black shadow skimmed past her, and before Aphelia could react, it whipped around her like a tightening ribbon.

“Don’t be so hasty. Why not get cozy with it?”

Instinct flared; Aphelia tried to resist. The shadow’s brute strength pinned her, its wind made her eyes shut. She threw up her arms on reflex, bracing for impact.

No impact came. Instead, a cool touch coiled her forearms. Aphelia’s eyes opened, slow as dawn.

The towering shadow had shrunk to a glossy black snake, its tongue flicking like a needle of night. It wound up her arm, nuzzling her palm, fawning as if begging favor.

The feather-robed girl pouted at the sight. She rose from the sumptuous bed, stepped close, and tapped the snake’s head without mercy. The little thing darted upward, aggrieved, and hid at Aphelia’s neck like a strand of onyx.

“New master, old forgotten. Fickle little thing.”

Seeing the shy black snake and the girl’s swelling pout, humor bubbled in Aphelia like a warm spring.

Memories stirred, a playful cruelty surfacing. A smile tugged her lips. She turned just so, making the shorter girl tiptoe hard, reaching and reaching, yet never quite catching the snake.

The girl noticed the mischief. She shot Aphelia a look full of grievance, pale hands gripping Aphelia’s shoulders with feigned force, then stepped up.

Aphelia braced for pain. Surprise bloomed instead.

The girl had no weight.

Even in a mindscape that obeyed her understanding, there should’ve been something. Yet the girl pressed like moonlight—present, and not.

The girl ignored Aphelia’s shock. She used Aphelia as a step, leaned in, snagged the snake, then slipped off and sauntered back to the lavish bed, toying with the little coil of night.

“You… why…”

“Simple. My power and my existence were all absorbed by you.” Her fingers played with the snake, face a blank lake. “Where do you think your strength came from? To move the World Will— that isn’t something you could do on your own.”

“If I absorbed your existence, why are you still in my mindscape?”

Hearing Uroboros, Aphelia frowned. She stepped forward, but Uroboros raised a hand. Black radiance poured into a wall and barred her path.

“Ask Merlin. That annoying man is here again, and I don’t want trouble.”

The dark wall surged. It shoved Aphelia out of the mindscape like a tide. A blink later, reality snapped into place.

The door swung open. Merlin, in white robes, walked in, speaking with Violet. Concern shaded his gaze toward Aphelia, silver aura blooming faintly between his hands.

“No need to worry… Master Merlin. Could you answer a few questions for me?”

Seeing her steady, Merlin let the silver bleed away, but her words made him pause. He sighed, a tired wind, and nodded.

“Come with me. I’ll tell you.”

In a chamber of the Mage Tower, they gathered around a huge round table. The Tower Spirit tuned magi-tech devices, preparing something with patient hands. Aphelia never took her eyes off Merlin, waiting like a hawk on a branch.

“So then, Master Merlin. The power in me—what is it?”

Her will stirred. The Obsidian Scepter appeared in her hand with a hush. A True God’s aura swelled, dark as deep water. She bound it tight, letting only a strand unfurl toward Merlin.

At that pure darkness, Merlin sighed softly. He nodded, prompting her to draw it back.

“That’s the power of Ouroboros. I fused her into your body. If I hadn’t, you would’ve died, torn apart by your own clashing forces.”

“What is she, exactly? Why did I strip away her existence?”

Aphelia pushed on, giving him no room to rest.

“As for what she is—even if I explain now, you won’t grasp it.” His voice was steady, like stone under moss. “But I can tell you this: her power can stand beside your master, and crush most of the strong in this world. With you two set against each other, for one to live, the other had to be consumed.”

Merlin drew out a tattered ancient scroll and handed it to Aphelia.

“For her origin, this is all we have. Take it into your mindscape and ask Ouroboros herself.”

Aphelia glanced at it, then closed it, the decision crisp. The script was alien; even with her learning, she couldn’t place it.

“Then, Master Merlin, the extra force that was layered onto me earlier—what was that?”

The Tower Spirit drifted forward and spoke gently.

“Please look at these.”

With a sweep of his hand, the Mage Tower’s beauty of gears and runes dissolved. In its place rose a massive mountain range. They sat above a world-spanning spine of stone. Beside them yawned a chasm, vast and bottomless, a mouth of night in the earth.

Even Aphelia, seasoned by peril, stepped back on reflex. The Tower Spirit floated to their side, steadying them like a tether of light.

The chasm was too clean, too vast—not carved by nature. As the tower showed the scene, it let the mountain’s breath roll into the room.

In that breath, Aphelia felt a familiar scent, like smoke she’d known before.

“This is where I hope you’ll go next. The Demon World’s most famous, most perilous place—the Abyss.”

Merlin waved, and the vision withdrew like a tide. He set a crystal on the table, black through and through, and slid it toward Aphelia. She drew breath to speak; he stilled her with a glance.

“We call it the Abyss because it’s truly bottomless. Since the Demon World exists, the Abyss has been there.”

The Tower Spirit, ever timely, placed a stack of documents before her, inviting her to read.

“There, the ecology is unlike anything in the Demon World. It’s barely a place fit for life. And yet it bred twisted, misshapen beings. They call themselves the Abyssal Progeny.”

“I don’t know how they built society, how they stacked one rule on another.” Merlin’s tone cooled like iron. “But those original things, with minds full only of killing and eating, couldn’t have evolved a complete culture.”

Aphelia skimmed the books, eyes catching on illustrations. The Abyssal Progeny looked like monsters built from meat blocks. They wore a human shape, but nothing in them felt alive—like creations abandoned by gods. If she had to name them, monster was the only word that fit.

“These creatures evolved almost without restraint. They’ve shed the worst of that warped look now, but only the look. Calling them people would be far too generous.”

Yet the sight tugged at Aphelia like a hook. She thought, then a flash cracked her mind, splitting memory open.

“Hydra Plains! I’ve seen similar things…”

“Correct. Those shadow legions born from Ouroboros’s power resemble them closely.” Merlin’s eyes held quiet gravity. “But the Abyssal Progeny didn’t lean on Ouroboros. Before you awakened her, their evolution was already complete.”