“Aphelia, this Master Merlin seems strong…”

Violet leafed through an old-styled tome, surprise rising like a lantern. She lifted her gaze to Aphelia at her side.

“Ah… he’s a friend of my teacher. He seems to have become a True God long ago.”

Aphelia scanned the shelves, but the book she wanted stayed hidden. Her brow drew tight like a bow as she prepared to project her intent.

“Before, I’d have been shocked. Now even you’ve become a True God. Tell me the Demon World has more, and I won’t blink.”

“True enough, Violet. I want the Demon World’s history. What force made them so much stronger than the human realm?”

As she spoke, Aphelia relayed Lilo’s account of the Demon World’s imperial capital. Violet’s lovely eyes widened like pale moons. Her red lips parted, disbelief washing her face.

“So the Demon World outstrips us in every way? If it’s as you say, why did we win? A few Demigods, and you’d have been snuffed out like a candle.”

Once she cooled, Violet closed the book. Years forged on battlefields sharpened her judgment. She cut straight to the question, her voice like a blade.

“I’m puzzled too. When I became a Titleholder, I saw this world’s past to now. Yet anything about the Demon World was veiled, like fog drawn over a river, as if someone hid it.”

“Given that, I don’t think the demon invasion was chance.”

Aphelia sent her intent toward the shelves, but it rebounded like a stone off glass. A thin silver-white glow spilled across the cases and sealed them. After several tries, she sighed and drew her mind back.

“As expected, history tied to demonkind is missing. Merlin hasn’t opened access for me.”

“What did the demons invade for? Land? Resources? People?”

Violet’s question was pure strategy. In human wars, goals tally down to those few lines carved in bone.

She pondered, then asked again. Weighing Aphelia’s words, she grew lost—this invasion seemed a losing bargain, a merchant pouring gold into sand. What did they want?

“They match our timespan, yet their tech and magic leap ahead by epochs. It’s baffling. Such engines devour resources; the human world can’t feed them. Across these epochs we birthed not one True God—how would we be their target?”

“I’ve seen Demon World maps a few times. Their provinces dwarf ours. Even their wild lands rival most of our realm. Land is a river to their ocean.”

“As for population…”

Aphelia sighed, a reed flute emptied by wind.

“Their population policies beat ours by far. Though they haven’t outlawed human trafficking, there’s barely racial hierarchy between species. Nobles and commoners are the only divide. As for the human world… I don’t know any rare race we have that would draw them.”

Violet sighed in turn, bridges burned across her face. Our divisions are stark: elves shun human kingdoms; the underworld cut ties with the surface; beastkin were exiled early and lost their culture, now little more than hunters and killers.

If none of these strategic aims give the Demon World reason, why launch a war that bled them for nothing?

“Indeed, it’s baffling. That so-called ‘Demon King’ was only a Titleholder. Yet the one who truly struck that day had at least True God power. What is this demon host here for?”

Violet met Aphelia’s eyes. A bold thought flashed like lightning.

“Could it be… for you?”

“For me?”

Confusion flitted first, a startled bird in her chest. Aphelia’s brows knit as she failed to catch the meaning at once.

“Think, Aphelia. Under normal training, how long to become a Titleholder?”

“About… without war, ten or twenty more years. If I hadn’t fallen east and met my teacher, longer still.”

“And a True God? How long?”

Unease rose cold as well-water. Violet’s question came almost on its own. Aphelia startled and set her hand to her heart.

“A True God… I likely had no chance. Not unless I received some legacy. In the human world’s conditions, becoming a True God was near impossible.”

“And now?”

Her voice was dusk-soft, a twilight on the tongue.

Now? Now Aphelia held two kinds of True God power, one step from weaving a domain. It began when the invading Demon King exchanged his heart for hers, a burning jewel pressed to flesh.

Without that exchange, she wouldn’t have turned demon. The Church wouldn’t have hunted her. She wouldn’t have fallen into the Demon World, each domino knocking like bamboo in rain.

“It’s all coincidence, right… Maybe they were aiming at the Church. You know, in all the old tales…”

Her voice trembled, a thin thread in wind. She didn’t believe it; the coincidences lay too neat, bricks set by a hidden hand.

“Aphelia, do you believe that?”

Believe? Of course not. The world doesn’t spin such perfect luck. But if demonkind invaded to push her into True Godhood, spending lives like water—why?

No benefit, no reason, an empty ledger and a silent drum.

“Aphelia, I also thought it was chance. But have you noticed? Merlin treats you differently…”

“That’s probably because my teacher asked him… The name Valkyrie rings loud in the Demon World too…”

“Aphelia… you really don’t feel it?”

Silence settled first, cool as night. She couldn’t claim she felt nothing; that would be a lie. Yet she and Merlin were strangers—how could there be a special bond?

“Violet, maybe your threads tie together. But why is there a knot at the center?”

“I don’t know. There could be many reasons. If you’re going to seek the World’s Will for answers, ask the sky about all this.”

At that, memories surged like tides. Familiar scenes sank back into the deep, out of reach, as if drawn under by a moon.

Her intuition whispered that chasing them wasn’t wise, like opening a sealed tomb.

Just then, the tower spirit appeared before them, smiling like pooled moonlight.

“Lady Aphelia, the potion is ready. Shall we head to the observation deck now?”

“Of course. The sooner, the better.”

Silver light flickered like frost, and they stood at the observation deck. Merlin waited with the potion, his preparations complete.

“The draft is tuned. Aphelia, this time, you must succeed.”

Aphelia took the vial. Under his grave tone, she nodded and drank, the liquid a thread of moon-silver.

“Then, please.”

Silver-white radiance unlatched the portal. A barren battlefield showed through like a scar. Aphelia steadied her breathing, nodded, and stepped across, returning to that emptiness.

The sealed scent of Aether rushed at her. Even now, her senses snagged. The Aether that once brimmed felt dammed, even gone.

She’d tried this before, so her path was sure. She closed her eyes and summoned the feel of True God power, like finding a hidden spring.

First to bloom in her mind was that splendid crystal flower.

Pure white light burst from her fingertips. Silver threads drew from the void and wrapped her arms. Arcane Power refined like a Mana Crystal, and the delicate Bracer Gauntlets formed again.

She opened her eyes. The white flower lay in her palm, bud tight, ready to bloom.

Suddenly, ancient fury rose. Beasts roared across the space. Countless hulks tore the earth, shaking stone from their backs. The crust buckled like a pried lid.

Close behind surged a packed steel host. They clambered from fissures with blades in hand. A hundred crimson eyes fixed on their mark and charged at Aphelia.

The scene returned. Charging legions, chanting mages, roaring beasts, all rushing like a tide toward her. Killing intent swelled near solid, aimed dead at her heart.

Facing it, Aphelia did as before and calmly closed her eyes. The crystal flower’s petals eased open like dawn.

But in that instant, an anomaly struck. Aphelia’s Aether sense severed completely.