Shilwen ignored Aphelia’s wide-eyed shock. She leaned in, breath warm at her ear, cheek brushing cheek, her voice sweet as honey poured in the dark.

“Do you want to know how your dear Miss Lena, the one who took you in, is doing?”

Before Lilo could pull them apart from that too-intimate pose, Aphelia had already fisted Shilwen’s collar. Her strength was gone, yet her black eyes flashed like drawn blades.

“What do you mean?!”

Hrok didn’t stop her. She sat off to the side, hands tucked into her wide robe, watching like a theatergoer. A faint smile played there, as if only a bowl of sunflower seeds was missing.

“Now, now, don’t get riled up, Miss Aphelia. You don’t trust me, and you’re a little short on manners, aren’t you?”

Shilwen’s smile stayed unruffled. She clasped Aphelia’s gripped hands and pried them loose without a ripple of Aether, using bare strength like iron wrapped in silk.

Aphelia kept staring at her, gaze sharp as frost. If Shilwen didn’t answer, she’d kill her a hundred times over with only her eyes.

“Tsk. You don’t cherish your own body, but I do. How do you think you got it back?”

Shilwen flung her hands away. Two red prints bloomed on palm and knuckle, stinging like fire-touched iron. The pain chilled Aphelia’s heart.

She felt it keenly—she was no longer the True God of before. No strength to lock horns.

She lowered her head. Her voice came out hoarse, like wind through dry reeds.

“I’m sorry, Lady Shilwen. I was reckless. Please tell me the truth.”

“Ha. That’s better. But how sure are you that what I tell you is the truth? Not afraid I’ll lie? I’ve lived for eons, a mighty—”

“Old hag.”

“Guna!”

Hrok’s dry interjection cut across her mid-word. Shilwen snapped into some other tongue by reflex. Hrok forced down a laugh, but mirth still spilled bright in her eyes.

Watching these two titans act like schoolgirls, Aphelia suddenly wondered if her brain had slipped. Why was she believing anything they said?

“She’s ruined my mood. Forget it. Wait for the main act. When the right one arrives, you’ll know. And today…”

A knock sounded at the door, crisp as rain on bamboo.

“Lady Shilwen, Lady Hrok, an emissary from the Demon World requests audience.”

“Let her in, Andrea. It’s fine.”

Shilwen’s lips curved into a secretive smile as she glanced at Aphelia. The look drifted like purple mist hiding a hook.

The milky door eased open. Maid Andrea entered, and with her came a hooded woman with sharp ears and green hair, robe black as night.

She held an emerald staff. A Holy Lance sigil marked her robe. Her aura felt like warm spring light, a promise of healing.

Aether pooled around her—pure nature and life, rising and fading like dew.

The moment she stepped in, Aphelia’s face darkened like thunderclouds over a cold lake. She stared at the Nature Elf without a word.

Lilo didn’t know who the newcomer was. But she felt Aphelia’s hands clamp tight, a storm beating inside. She squeezed back, steady as a tree root.

“Master of the Abyss, Lady Shilwen, Lady Hrok, I hope you’ve been well. My master sent me with her greetings… Ah, I seem to have come at a bad time. There’s a patient.”

The green-haired elf smiled gently and bowed to Shilwen, like a willow bending to wind.

“Don’t worry. They’re my confidantes. Treat them as air. But, Miss Lena—your master just reclaimed a body. She’s been stirring waves. Looks like your vessel plan is a smashing success, isn’t it?”

The elf was, of course, Aphelia’s foster mother and sworn sister—Lena.

Faced with Shilwen’s sudden question, Lena smiled. She didn’t see the angle, and she knew this Abyssal sovereign’s mercurial ways. She chose to answer straight, like a clear stream.

“Of course. Not to boast, but the vessel has grown very complete under my guidance in the human world. By Lady Brynhildr’s design, I’ve fulfilled the task perfectly.”

Chapter 174: Lies

There wasn’t pride in her tone. No peacocking. Before Shilwen and Hrok, this Nature Elf—old by human history—was still only a child before a mountain.

Seeing their smiles, Lena relaxed a touch. Their mood didn’t look foul. She asked softly, voice like gauze.

“I heard you brought the vessel back. Is she… still alive?”

“No idea. Ask Hrok.”

Shilwen shrugged, blithe as drifting cloud, tossing the pot into Hrok’s lap. Her deep-violet eyes narrowed, head tilted, studying Lena with lazy interest.

“But tell me—does Lady Brynhildr want that answer, or do you, Miss Lena?”

The words sounded light, like a joke. To Lena, they fell like sleet on bare skin. Her back went cold. The true answer clawed at her throat.

“Of course it’s Lady Brynhildr’s will. How would I dare question you so lightly? I know my station…”

She dropped to one knee, right hand to left shoulder, and bowed toward Hrok. Green bangs were dark with sweat. Her breath hitched, and her Aether wobbled like a broken compass.

“No need to be so tense. If you go back like this, Brynhildr will call me petty again. I’m only asking. Only asking. Hrok, tell her how the vessel is.”

Lilo’s eyes flashed cold. If Shilwen exposed Aphelia now, she had already planned three ways to silence Lena. Hrok, though, wasn’t gentle at all. She turned back into ice.

She didn’t bother with a proper look. Her voice fell like frost.

“Dead.”

“Dead? But Lady Brynhildr said—”

Hrok clicked her tongue. “Tsk.” Her phoenix eyes slit open a fraction. She glanced at Lena, a blade unsheathed for a blink.

Lena’s strength vanished. She toppled to the floor, gasping like a fish on shore. Sweat soaked her robe, leaving her a sorry mess.

“You talk too much.”

That single look felt like a sword point driven through Lena’s chest. For a heartbeat, she believed she had died.

Her Aether scattered like frightened birds. Even her soul slipped from her flesh for a breath.

If the Holy Lance sigil hadn’t flickered and done its work, she might still be lost in that void.

Ice flooded her spine, dragging her back to the beginning—to a small, helpless Nature Elf under a vast sky. Before her stood a god out of legend.

That naked pressure had a name: death.

Even life-rich Aether couldn’t knit what had been cut. And all of it came from a glance.

“That’s how it is. The vessel is dead. Keep pressing, and it won’t end well for you. Does Hrok look like a liar? Why would she lie to someone like you?”

Shilwen stepped up and patted Lena’s shoulder. Deep-violet Aether curled like misting tea and steadied Lena’s frayed flow.

The questions came in a soft volley, and Lena’s hazy mind reeled. But with that violet Aether bracing her, she forced herself to take every word in.

Watching the seamless good-cop, bad-cop, Lilo could only sigh inside. Her worry had been extra. These two could toy this Nature Elf to death without lifting a finger.

“Cough… cough…”

Lena drove Aether through her body like water into dry fields. She found no wound anywhere, yet the split in her sea of consciousness stayed lodged like a bone in her throat.

Hrok shut her eyes again and ignored her, a mountain uninterested in ants.

“I spoke out of turn. I’m very sorry. I’ll remember this lesson.”

After several tries, the fissure in her mind only worsened. Lena gave up on mending it and used Aether to press it down like a lid on boiling water. She bowed to the two consummate performers.

“But there’s another task Lady Brynhildr entrusted to me. I hope you’ll review it. It’s important. We must discuss it.”

She didn’t reach for her storage ring. She slipped a hand inside her robe and drew out a yellowed parchment, then offered it to Shilwen.

“Oh? Real business? It even bears her Aether seal. Speak first. I’ll decide if I’ll open it.”

Shilwen only glanced at it and tossed it back like a hot coal. Her eyes, though, had a thin, complex sheen, like moonlight over deep water.

“With your power and station, you must know what Lady Brynhildr wants to discuss. Future cooperation between our two realms, and the fight against the Eldritch Gods. It’s weighty. Please open the scroll and speak with her directly.”