The towering knight in heavy plate staggered back, step after step, until he planted his massive tower shield into the earth and finally stopped. From beneath his rusted visor came a voice like a dying old beast.
Aphelia didn’t rush to press the advantage. She held a pure-white blade like a winter moon, facing the armored knight at a few paces, air taut as a drawn bowstring.
Pain flickered like lightning along the small cut on her arm. Fear didn’t rise; instead, battle-fire surged in her black eyes, and a faint curve tugged at her lips.
Such a powerful foe—she hadn’t met one in ages. The blood drums pounded. Thrilling.
When that broken edge scythed toward her eyes, she’d meant to use her Titleholder power to slip aside. No matter the path she pictured, it ended the same—decayed steel carving into sight.
Blind, even with Aether sense, she’d be fighting under a night tide against his next strike.
If she couldn’t dodge, then a death-fight it was. Back to the cliff, heart to the flame.
Battlefield smoke-hardened killing intent etched itself into a single sword. Aphelia loosened her hands, snuffed her five senses like candle flames, and slipped into Unity of Heaven and Man, reaching for a memory sunk deep as bedrock.
On a wind-swept plain, a sword-bearing beauty sang and drank, facing a beast the size of a mountain. No fear. In her phoenix eyes, allure cloaked a blade’s edge.
“Ophelius, watch closely…”
The black-haired woman drank, then tossed her jug in a comet arc, effortless. Under the beast’s storm-roar, she gripped the sword at her waist. Her magnetic voice coaxed like velvet. Wine soaked her white shirt like rain, unnoticed. In her gaze, only the beast remained.
“Ancient Martial Flow—”
Cherry-red lips parted, drawing a breathtaking curve like a spring blossom.
In that instant, Aphelia’s body and soul moved in sync with the black-haired woman. The invisible blade of Aether folded all killing intent away. Plain and ridge, the small stood before the mighty, wind howling witness.
A cold flash burst—thunder from a clear sky.
Two mouths spoke the same word. One stroke to bear all killing intent; to kill, only this blade. Ancient Martial Flow’s deathstroke—Thunderclap.
The armored knight hadn’t expected such a fierce counter. His sword was spent and wouldn’t return; he raised his shield like a cliff to meet the wave.
Her essence, qi, and spirit braided tight. As a True God, Aphelia’s execution brushed the level of that peerless Valkyrie. One sword, and ten thousand laws shattered like ice on a river.
Like a verdant rainbow spearing the sun, like thunder blasting the valley, the strike detonated the instant it kissed the tower shield. Endless killing intent sharpened into lethal sword will. Turn to flee, and it would nail you to the horizon.
Take his method and return it upon him.
You want to kill me? Then be ready to be killed. Aphelia unleashed the blade without hesitation. The tall knight grasped its power too late; his sword could only keep falling like a guillotine. Aphelia’s forearm already winged up to guard her eyes.
After the clash, both slipped back. The tall knight was buried in iron; no wounds showed, yet he leaned on the tower shield to stand, like a battered pine in a gale.
Aphelia had paid for it. With Titleholder force driving her arm, the broken edge left a small-looking cut. The wound’s numb, electric tremor crawled like ants, sapping her strength.
To onlookers, it was a white flash—then the figures split, facing off in mist and wind.
Fenrir couldn’t see through the blaze. Beside her, Coco clasped her left eye, a feverish zeal glowing like a coal on her face.
“You all, leave. Now.”
Aphelia lowered her stance like a coiled tiger, gaze a razor on the armored knight. She didn’t spare the group a glance as the words left her.
“But—”
“Keep this up, and you’ll be dragged into the storm!”
Fenrir opened her mouth, but Aphelia’s bark lashed her. Lips pressed tight, she watched waves far beyond her little boat, then nodded.
“Fine! I’ll head up. The foothill’s yours, Miss Aphelia!”
Without hesitation, she drove the black-armored knights uphill. Even the unruly bent after Aphelia’s heaven-shaking thunder.
Up top, Fenrir’s personal guard were dug in; even if they dreamed of revolt, it would be a ripple on a still lake. Mid-slope, Aphelia’s duel stood like an iron gate—any hidden hand must pass a True God.
At that thought, Fenrir’s heart eased, a candle shielded from wind. In this world, some might resist a True God, but none would defeat one. In the end, they’re still “human.”
Coco clicked her tongue, unwilling yet conceding the truth. Her war-armor wasn’t here; staying would only muddy the water. She followed Fenrir like a swift bird up the mountain.
Soon the noisy mid-slope fell quiet—only blood streaks and two figures facing off as the mountain wind streamed past like a cold river.
“Who are you? Name yourself.”
The tall knight gave no answer. Since that earlier sigh, he hadn’t spoken—silent as a tombstone in fog.
“Church? Doesn’t fit. Abyss? If someone like you had shown up, I’d have noticed. That leaves one thing… a Fallen Demon.”
He stayed mute, a silence that felt like he couldn’t admit it. Aphelia remembered Shilwen’s warning through the Crystal Blossoms to delay the climb. Perhaps that whisper of petals pointed to this.
Those shattered Crystal Blossoms had spread Aphelia’s Titleholder power over the field. Normally, that rusted armor should have turned to ash on the wind. Yet moments ago, it only blurred like heat haze, then knit itself whole.
Even without a formed domain, she knew—only True God force cancels another. That armor—no, not just armor—the blade and tower shield too. The whole set wore a True God’s imprint, frost-bright.
Otherwise, mortal gear couldn’t oppose Aphelia. It certainly couldn’t bite her arm and leave such a strange residue.
To set a True God against Aphelia, only a few factions could. The likeliest was the “Fallen Demon” they’d met—names few as shadows on a ledger.
A True God seized by Eldritch Gods, self erased—reduced to a puppet doll: a Fallen Demon.
If that’s how it is…
Resolve hardened; Aphelia tightened her grip. The tall knight roared, rage like a bull in a narrow pass, lifted his tower shield, and charged like an avalanche.
“…Been ages since I used the Ancient Martial Flow’s forms!!!”
Her pure-white blade swept out again. Ten thousand sword-shadows blossomed like a snow squall, veiling the charging knight in icy petals of steel.
At the mountain’s foot, a little red-haired girl who’d been snoring in her room jolted up. Her pupils flared to brilliant gold, sunrise caught in glass, and she stared outside.
“Lori… what is it?”
Violet, twirling blood-tinged Arcane Power between her fingers like a crimson thread, frowned.
The girl looked small, but she carried a True God’s weight—no candle flame, a star’s heat. Her sudden stir meant something beyond Violet’s rank was moving.
Violet stepped up beside her. The milk-soft voice chimed like a tiny bell.
“Ma… ma…”
She pointed outside while tugging Violet’s sleeve, a sparrow pulling at cloth, dragging her toward the door.
Violet’s heart dropped like a stone in a well. The only “mama” she’d call was Aphelia. And she pointed toward the path uphill. Could Aphelia be in trouble—again?
At the thought, Violet couldn’t sit still. She followed her out, eyes on the peak swathed in white mist. Spears of white light pierced the mountain; a strange chill rushed down the slopes, freezing breath, and soldiers halted to stare uphill.
That cold beyond the light—Violet knew it like an old winter. She murmured to herself.
“Thunderclap, Autumn Silence, and something unknown… Is Aphelia fighting up there?!”
Before she could sprint, the earth convulsed like a drum. Even as a Titleholder, she staggered, clutching the wooden hut like an anchor.
A massive shape, kicked by the quake, flew backward out of the white fog. After it streaked pure-white light and something that ripped mist and punched through cloud. The red-haired girl growled low, eyes nailed to the sky-piercing thing.
“Hey, wake up and look! What’s happening!!”
“Huh? I’m still resting…”
“Save it!!”
The demon Violet roused from her mindscape sighed. Scarlet flooded half her vision in a red tide. One glance made her cry out; she slammed her sight shut like a window in a storm.
