“Aphelia, this Master Merlin seems strong…” Violet’s voice brushed the air like a turning page as she lifted her gaze from a timeworn book.

“Mm… he’s my teacher’s friend. He likely became a True God long ago.” Aphelia’s eyes skimmed the shelves like a river over stones, yet no book rose to meet her hand. A crease formed between her brows, a storm line before rain. She readied her mind to reach out.

“If it were before, I’d be shocked. But now, even you’ve become a True God. Say the Demon World has more, and I still won’t blink.” Violet’s words fell like pebbles into a still pond, ripples widening.

“True enough, Violet. I want the Demon World’s history. What current drives it so far ahead of the human realm?” Aphelia’s tone was steady, like a blade laid flat. She recited Lilo’s notes on the imperial capital, a map unfurling like mist at dawn.

Violet’s eyes went round like moons; her lips parted like a rose in first bloom. Disbelief colored her face like frost clinging to glass.

“So the Demon World outstrips us on all fronts? If that’s true, how did we win?” Her voice sharpened like a spear tip. “They could’ve sent a few Demigods. Aphelia, you wouldn’t have had room to grow.” She shut the book with a soft thud, like a heartbeat. Years of battle lay in her posture like iron in earth.

“That puzzles me too.” Aphelia’s tone cooled like night water. “When I became a Titleholder, I saw this world from its past to its now, a river of time rolling. But everything tied to the Demon World was veiled by a force, like clouds hiding peaks on purpose.”

“In that light, I don’t think the demon invasion was chance.” Her certainty dropped like a stone through the lake.

She sent her will toward the shelves like a silver thread, and it snapped back like a taut bowstring. Pale silver spread from the wood like frost, sealing it under a thin winter glaze. After several tries, she let out a breath, the sigh a fog that faded. She drew her mind back like a hand from fire.

“As I feared. History on the demons won’t surface. Merlin hasn’t opened that permission for me.” Her words fell like locked doors in a corridor.

“What’s their aim in invading? Land? Resources? Population?” Violet’s questions lined up like arrows on a bow, purely strategic, purely cold.

She thought, thoughts drifting like smoke. The war felt like a ledger gone red, a campaign bleeding coin and blood for no clear gain.

“To keep tech and magic that far ahead, despite a similar span of years, is baffling,” Aphelia murmured, her doubt a shadow under noon sun. “That kind of tech drinks resources like a furnace. The human realm can’t feed that flame. We’ve had no True Gods in these eras. Why would we be their target?” Her logic was a plumb line in a dark well.

“I’ve seen their maps.” Her hand traced invisible borders like wind over grass. “Their provinces dwarf ours. Even their wild lands rival most of our countries. Land isn’t the problem.”

“As for population…” Her sigh slid out like night through a cracked door. “Their population policy treats folk like rivers in one system. Trade isn’t banned, but there’s no real racial gap; only nobles and commoners divide the sky. As for us… I don’t know of any rare race we have that would tempt them.” Her judgment fell like a quiet verdict.

Violet sighed too, breath like rain over old bone. In the human realm, racial divides stood like canyon walls. Elves kept distance from human crowns like deer from fire. The underworld severed ties with the surface like roots cut clean. Orcs were exiled long ago, culture lost like a song in wind, left as beasts that knew only hunt and kill.

If none of those aims fit, why launch a war that gave nothing back? The question hung like a sword above a gate.

“It’s baffling.” Violet’s eyes narrowed like shutters in wind. “And that ‘Demon King’… the one shown was only a Titleholder. But the true one who struck that day had at least True God strength. So why did this demon force come?” Her doubt stirred like leaves under a passing storm.

Her gaze met Aphelia’s, two lines crossing like stars aligning. A bold thought flashed like lightning behind the eyes.

“Could it be… for you?”

“For me?” Aphelia’s brows drew tight like a bow being pulled. She didn’t catch Violet’s aim at first, the words hovering like smoke.

“Think, Aphelia.” Violet’s voice softened, a hand on a door. “Under normal training, how long to become a Titleholder?”

“Maybe… without war, ten or twenty more years.” Her tone counted seasons like rings in wood. “If I hadn’t fallen east and met my teacher, it would’ve been longer.”

“And to become a True God? How long?” Violet’s question came quick, like a falcon stooping. A chill rose in Aphelia’s chest like ice on spring water. Her hand pressed her heart without thought, seeking warmth.

“A True God… likely no chance,” she said, honesty bare as stone. “Unless I received an inheritance. In the human realm, the sky for that is shut.”

“And now?”

Now, Aphelia held two strands of True God power like twin moons in one sky. She stood one step from forming a Domain, the line drawn like a threshold. It all began when the invading Demon King exchanged hearts with her, a blood pact like fire and snow trading places.

Without that exchange, she wouldn’t have become demon-kind. The Church wouldn’t have hunted her like wolves. She wouldn’t have fallen to the Demon World like a star pulled from its path.

“It’s coincidence, surely…” Her voice trembled like a reed in wind. “Maybe they targeted the Church. Look at the old legends…”

“Do you believe that, Aphelia?” Violet cut softly, like a blade under silk.

Believe? Of course she didn’t. Coincidence like that was a constellation drawn by a child’s hand. And the demons waging war to make her a True God—bleeding troops for that—why? It had no gain and no motive, a hunter chasing smoke.

“I thought it was coincidence too.” Violet’s tone lowered, a drumbeat under snow. “But have you noticed? Merlin treats you differently.”

“That’s probably because my teacher asked him.” Aphelia’s words set a screen between them like a painted fan. “The Valkyrie’s name rings loud in the Demon World too.”

“Aphelia… can’t you feel it?” Violet’s question leaned in like dusk leaning against a window.

Silence folded around Aphelia like a cloak. To say she felt nothing would be unreal. But she and Merlin were strangers, two stars far apart. How could there be something more?

“Violet, maybe what you say lines up.” Her eyes lowered like lids in prayer. “But why?”

“I don’t know.” Violet’s gaze drifted like smoke along rafters. “Many reasons might tie this knot. Since you plan to ask the world’s will for answers, ask it this too.”

At that, memory surged in Aphelia’s mind like tide and shattered on rock. Visions she’d known like old paths sank, vanishing into deep green water. Her intuition tightened like a fist, whispering that chasing those memories was a road with thorns.

A figure shimmered into view, the tower spirit smiling like a lantern lit at dusk. “Lady Aphelia, the potion is ready. Shall we go to the observatory now?”

“Of course. The sooner, the better.” Her reply snapped like a crisp banner in wind.

Silver light whooshed, and they stood on the observatory floor, clean and cold as moonlit stone. Merlin waited with the potion, patience held like a steady flame.

“The mixture is tuned.” His voice weighed each word like scales. “Aphelia, this time, you must succeed.”

She took the vial, its surface gleaming like ice over a stream. His stern tone pressed at her, and she nodded, resolve set like iron. She drank without hesitation, the taste a bitter leaf.

“Then, please.” He raised a hand, and silver light unfurled a portal like a silk screen pulled wide. A barren battlefield showed through, earth spare as bone.

Aphelia steadied her breath, a tide slowing under moonlight. She nodded to them and stepped through, crossing back to that desolate ground like a crane returning to a silent lake.

The Aether-blocking aura rushed her like a cold front. Even with her strength, her senses stalled, wheels stuck in snow. The Aether that once brimmed around her became a cut road, a river dammed, even thinning to nothing.

She had tried this path several times, footsteps worn like grooves. She closed her eyes and reached for the feel of True God power, a familiar star she could name.

First, it came: a gorgeous crystal flower, blooming in memory like frost-light. Pure white flared at her fingertips, a dawn petal unfolding. Silver-white threads drew from the void like silk reeled from air and wrapped her arms like gentle vines. Arcane Power crystallized like ice into Mana Crystal, and delicate Bracer Gauntlets formed again, filigree neat as lace.

She opened her eyes, and the pure white flower sat in her palm, a bud poised before rain.

Suddenly, an ancient fury blew through the space like desert wind. Giant beasts roared, voices like avalanches ripping cliffs. On the barren earth, countless hulks broke the ground and shook off stones like dogs shaking rain. The crust pried up and trembled, a drum under stomping feet.

A steel army followed, dense as a swarm, blades gleaming like cold rivers. They crawled from fissures like ants from a split hill. Crimson eyes locked on their target at once, and they charged at Aphelia like a storm line rolling.

The scene repeated like a carved relief: legions charging, mages chanting, beasts roaring—a tide slamming toward her. Killing intent thickened like winter ice, aim needle-sharp at her heart.

Aphelia stayed calm, the lake under wind barely rippling. She closed her eyes as before, and the crystal flower’s petals spread a touch like a quiet smile.

Then—an abrupt twist like a string snapping—her Aether sense cut off completely.