Even Coco noticed Violet now; her eyes had darkened back to wine-red, and a blood-red Demonic Spear rested against Coco’s throat like a thorn.
"I see. So it’s really two people…" Her voice carried a wry edge, like a reed bending in wind.
"If that’s the case, you probably don’t know how easily my temper flares." Her anger coiled tight, like a spring ready to snap.
The crimson spear-tip edged closer by a hair; Coco gave a bitter smile and raised her hands, surrendering like a lone boat to a storm.
White-robed figures had already closed in, a ring of snow with standard magitech weapons pointed at Violet like a forest of spears.
Even so, Violet didn’t shift the spear; blood-red Arcane Power poured out and wrapped her like a storm cloak, harsh as winter wind.
As the standoff tightened and hands hovered near triggers, the huge cultivation tank whispered a crack; the sound sliced the air like thin ice breaking, and every gaze locked there.
The middle-aged man below turned ashen; he twisted dials faster, and sweat beaded on his brow like rain on stone.
"Reduce Aether sensing, avoid—" His order broke off; beside him, gorgeous Crystal Blossoms drifted down like jeweled snow. He blinked, then shouted at the silhouette.
"Lady Aphelia, please stay your hand!!!"
Too late. The giant tank exploded with a thunderclap; pale-green solution sprayed like a sudden squall, and a pure-white figure dropped like a falling star into the circle around Violet.
The white-robed had no time to react; pure-white Aether surged over them like freezing glaze, and their magitech weapons drowned in that sea and turned to scrap.
Even Violet, who had Coco in hand, shoved Coco away and slipped aside, a shadow skimming the wall like a swift fish.
What hit their eyes first was a pair of exquisite silvery Bracer Gauntlets, art made steel; then the figure in full Silvery Armor, bright as moonlight on blade.
No doubt. The one before them was Aphelia.
She stood at the center of the white robes; filaments of Aether streamed from her hand into their backs, puppet-wires pulled tight like spider silk.
Pure-white Aether hung above like the weight of the sky, and no one dared to twitch, heads bowed under that thunderous pressure.
Yet Aphelia seemed off; she pressed her brow, as if clawing through fogged memories, odd syllables spilling like broken birds.
Each time her tone sharpened, her fingers clenched the threads, and the white-robed clasped their chests and collapsed, pain carving them like knives.
Crystal Blossoms opened at her side and spread under the Aether sea like frost, and wherever they bloomed, pure-white crystal glazed the lab.
So strange, no one dared speak; even Violet felt a new, unfamiliar chill in Aphelia, like dawn mist that wasn’t there before.
Coco hid to the side, eyes shining like a magpie spotting silver, yet her pupils swirled with tangled emotion that betrayed her, a knot she didn’t dare loosen.
The most anxious was the middle-aged man; that martial silhouette stole his breath like a vise, and as a lead on this experiment, he knew midstream breaks shatter outcomes like glass.
But with Aphelia poised to slay gods and Buddhas alike, who would step forward and risk a storm?
Every heart pounded like war drums; the air pressed down like a mountain, and the room felt one step from suffocation.
Mercifully, it didn’t last long; even a short span dragged like years over hot sand.
"You… who are you?" Aphelia lowered her hand and swept the room; her gaze knifed toward the white-robed who had tried to mob Violet, and they couldn’t lift their heads.
Seeing a crack for words, the middle-aged man hurried up, dropped to one knee, and spoke low, his voice steady like a tether. "Lady Aphelia, we’re remnants of the last era, your most loyal servants, born to serve you."
"I haven’t seen servants who treat their master with such disrespect." Aphelia shot back, cool as blade-edge; Aether coiled around him like a storm, and his bones creaked under the weight.
"Disrespect is a capital crime, of course. But allow me to ask—how much of your memory has returned?" His question landed like a pebble in deep water.
Aphelia’s heart jolted like a startled bird; she didn’t answer, only glanced lightly toward Violet and said, "Violet, come here."
Violet, standing aside, went still; she looked left and right, confirmed she was called, then frowned. "Aphelia, what are you even saying?"
"Saying what? I’m calling you over…" Aphelia herself froze; the words felt skewed in her mouth, like a compass pulled off true. The Aether around the man slackened, and he gulped air like a drowning sailor.
She snapped her head back; the pressure crashed down again like a falling peak. "Tell me everything. All of it."
"Of course, Lady Aphelia. But please rein in this Aether flux…" After that clash, they finally sat with stiff calm, laying out threads like a loom to weave cause and consequence.
After the early mismatch, Aphelia wrestled down the new tongue in her head and flipped between her native and the fresh language like turning pages.
"My head’s a mess, so don’t try any tricks…" She looked at Coco bringing tea, paused mid-sentence, and caught Coco’s wrist; pure-white Aether climbed her skin like frost.
"Eh? Lady Aphelia, what are you doing?" Coco flushed like rose, tried to pull free, but Aphelia held firm; Aether looped through Coco from crown to heel, and found nothing amiss.
Beside her, Violet’s face darkened like a storm front, and the porcelain cup in her hand cracked with a crisp snap.
"Lady Aphelia, let’s explain Coco’s look later." The middle-aged man across wore thick awkwardness like a stiff collar; it was rare Aphelia wasn’t raging and would talk, and he feared Violet’s temper tipping the table.
"So, where do you plan to start?" Aphelia asked, voice cool as winter water.
"Please don’t rush. Look at this first. I think you’ll recognize it." He drew out a book and offered it like a seed of memory.
It looked like a simple old tome, years worn; the leather was gently creased like weathered bark. The instant it touched her palm, a string deep in her mind hummed like a plucked zither.
"Then this belongs to you, Brynhildr…" "Is it really okay? Lilo, looks like you put lots of important things in there…" Familiar lines flooded her ear like echoes in a canyon; she blinked, and the mirage vanished without a trace.
She raised her gaze to the man; her cold look speared him like an icicle. He said, "It seems much has come back. That’s heartening… at least now you can believe we didn’t bring you here to harm you."
"Hmph." Aphelia curled a thin smile, set the book down, and needled him. "If you wanted to harm me, you could do it the same way. Using this to buy my trust—aren’t you a bit too confident?"
The line carried a second edge; to him it meant she’d listen, and he exhaled in secret like a venting bellows.
"Of course. Allow me a little setup." His fingers twitched; machinery behind him spun up, and a huge crystal panel slid into view like a lake of glass. For Aphelia, it had a simple name.
Screen. The word rose in her mind like a bubble breaking.
"Let’s start with our clan." He cleared his throat, and images rolled across the screen like waves under moonlight.
"By kind, we’re human. But we’re not humans of this era—rather, we’re humans without mixed impurities, clear as spring water."
"Not all of us were born by normal means; because of that, what humanity had in the previous era, we preserved intact like seeds locked in ice."
Violet cut in, voice sharp as a chisel. "Previous era? The Second Epoch didn’t have magitech like yours, or that language…"
He scoffed and flicked his hand like tossing a pebble. "Who told you ‘previous era’ means the Second Epoch?"
"Not the last epoch, then it’s the First?" Violet’s doubt hung like fog.
"Violet… he means neither the Second nor the First." Before she bristled, Aphelia knit her brows and sliced in like a clean cut.
"Correct, Lady Aphelia. Do you remember more?" His eyes lit like sparks jumping from flint.
"Shouldn’t I be the one asking?" Her chill reply hit like frost, and he lowered his head, shame pooling around his boots like shadow.
