After a night’s rest, they rolled toward the Abyss garrison. The campfire words from last night lay buried in ash and silence. Lilo, most of all, wouldn’t touch them.

She moved as if that talk had never happened, brushing past it like wind over dry reeds. Each time Aphelia tried to circle back, Lilo shifted the topic with a light hand.

Since Lilo wouldn’t speak, Aphelia wouldn’t press. Still, the memory of that lonely face by the fire tugged at her chest like a thin blade. She couldn’t name the source.

“We’ve still got a stretch before we reach R’lyeh,” Lilo said, as the carriage creaked through a withered landscape. Her voice was a small lantern against the gray. “It’s a town set off from the garrison. There’s a Demigod holding the line. Not much to you. But enough to swat the Abyss’s leftovers.”

Even Lilo’s wide knowledge snagged on R’lyeh. A city rebuilt on ruin rarely holds surprises. Yet the more she racked her memory, the more it felt like a blank torn from mist.

“R’lyeh?” Natalie asked from the driver’s bench, the reins whispering in her hands. Something flickered in her bright eyes, then dimmed. Her voice thinned, like a bird wary of shadow.

“That’s right. Next stop is R’lyeh. Anything wrong, Natalie?” Aphelia flipped Lilo’s map and traced the route, her gaze like steady rain. A highland city, easy to defend, hard to take. A good foothold in a land of knives.

Since Natalie was Abyssal Progeny, Aphelia wanted her thoughts. From any angle, Natalie shouldn’t stand against her. And the Natalie who’d borrowed power and mind from the future still held an instinctive respect for Aphelia.

“No, no… Lady Goddess, your choice can’t be wrong…” Natalie blurted, panic rippling like a startled doe. The fluster tugged Aphelia’s attention. The three inside exchanged a glance, then a nod.

“Aphelia, your palm,” Violet said.

“What are you—”

Before Aphelia could react, Violet bit her fingertip and drew a Rune in Aphelia’s palm. Arcane Power trickled in, and the dim blood-script began to glow like embers waking.

“My mark,” Violet murmured. “I’ll scout R’lyeh. I’ll check the outskirts first. If something’s off, I’ll bring it back.”

“But how will you—”

Violet answered with motion. Her slender form folded into a pulsing blood sphere. A crimson filament snapped free and streaked outward with a soft whoosh, vanishing past the carriage boards.

Aphelia sighed and lifted the curtain. She sat beside Natalie, voice warm as dusk rain. “Natalie, don’t tense up. What’s wrong with that city? Just say it. Even if you’re wrong, I won’t blame you.”

With that face, and that mature, low voice, Aphelia drew trust like a hearth draws chill. Yet Natalie kept her lips pressed tight. Fear swam in her pupils like storm fish. Even before the woman she revered, her gaze skittered away and her body trembled.

Seeing that, Aphelia narrowed her eyes. She let the pressure ease, and patted Natalie’s shoulder, gentle as a falling leaf. “It’s fine. Keep driving. We’ll handle the rest.”

Natalie shuddered at the touch. She bit her lower lip. She gave no answer, and ducked her head to hide from Aphelia’s eyes.

Back inside, Lilo sealed the carriage with Arcane Power. “Well? Aphelia, anything odd?”

“Not yet,” Aphelia said, a chill edging her tone. “I have a few guesses. We wait for Violet.”

Lilo felt the shift in Aphelia’s aura and frowned. In her memory, R’lyeh was a city-state famous for trade flows, a tide of goods in and out. Its tax rolls matched Norton’s old glory, enough to earn its lord a title in the capital.

As the mage corps’ vice-captain, Lilo only knew that much. Rank bars truth like iron bars a window. Even so, she didn’t understand why Ophelius’s face had darkened like stormglass. She kept silent and waited for Violet’s return.

“I’m back,” came a voice, as a clot of blood reformed on the floor. Violet’s figure knit itself together, pale as chalk, and she slumped against the paneling. “On the surface, R’lyeh looks fine. But the blood-scent is thick.”

“Thick blood is normal,” Lilo said after a beat, eyes narrowing in thought. “Abyssal Progeny harass often. Clashes flare. The Demigod crushes them. The garrison reeks worse than any town—”

Violet cut in, voice cold as a blade. “Inside the city, even through the barrier, the stench is almost solid. Not just Abyssal Progeny. Humans. Elves. Every race. You sure it’s as safe as you say?”

Lilo fell into a tight silence. If Violet was right, R’lyeh wasn’t safe. A high-ground city could be a nest with sharper teeth.

“Can’t we skirt it? Miss Lilo, your map shows side paths…” Aphelia asked, eyes steady as night water.

“Afraid not,” Lilo said. “Those paths are Abyssal Progeny haunts. Monsters wait to ambush passersby. Some make armies step back a ways. In our state, it’s worse…”

She knew Aphelia carried a True God’s power. But unknown-tier monsters blur edges. Even if Aphelia could escape clean, protecting them would be hard.

“Besides, if we go through R’lyeh, we can use a small phase-shift magi-device. It’s the only spatial mover on this land. It saves time, and lets us send Ophelius in before the World Will sleeps.”

“World Will sleeps?” Aphelia frowned, a crease like a cut. Before they left, neither the tower-spirit nor Merlin had warned her of this.

“You don’t know?” Lilo blinked. “All right. Listen.”

“The World Will isn’t always awake. Master Merlin’s strike fully roused it. But the method was brutal. It forced an early awakening. That shortens the time before it falls back into sleep.”

Lilo drew an ancient book from her storage ring and handed it over. One page was marked bright. The ink was faded as old bones, but still readable.

Aphelia skimmed the fractured lines and spoke low. “So if we miss this chance, no matter how fierce the next assault, the World Will won’t wake. It’ll shield itself by sleeping. Yes?”

“Exactly,” Lilo said. “If we’re going to act, we can’t miss this window.”

Aphelia closed her eyes and weighed the scales. If they missed, the World Will wouldn’t stir until the next cycle. And that cycle spans a thousand years, a long winter for any hope.

If the human realm weren’t bleeding, she might risk delay. But nine months remain on her one-year pact with the Valkyrie. She can’t promise a domain forged in time. Time has teeth.

Between the two paths, the blade turned. The answer rose clear.

Aphelia opened her eyes and let out a slow breath. She looked at the other two, calm as midnight. “We go. Straight into R’lyeh.”

“But—” Lilo’s worry flickered. In these few months in the Demon World, Aphelia had burned to ash more than once.

“No buts,” Aphelia said. “If there are enemies, I’ll crush them all.”

Her tone was level, but her will hit like iron rain. Black eyes flooded with a faint red. For an instant, the other two saw a pitch-dark shadow unfurl behind her.

Something extreme was waking, silent as a tide under moon. Pressure rolled off her body like a storm-front.

“Besides,” she whispered, the words like a blade drawn, “I want to see what R’lyeh is hiding.”