Aphelia’s gaze sharpened. Hrok’s strike carried shades of her own style, a predator hiding behind a giant shield and springing the trap. It was a fight stripped of reason, fighting for the sake of fighting.

She couldn’t dodge. With the spiked maul crashing down, she chose to meet it head-on with Crimson Fire.

And Hrok, who had schemed so hard to set the board, wouldn’t end it so easily. The maul hammered for Aphelia’s ankle, heavy as a falling boulder. Hrok herself clenched both fists and drove for Aphelia’s chest, intent on returning the exact blow Aphelia had given her before.

Who said a Weapon Master can’t fight without a weapon? Even barehanded, Hrok’s close combat was every bit as vicious as her weapon record. Her right fist speared for Aphelia’s chest, fast as Aphelia’s opening strike.

“What a… opponent you can’t take lightly.”

Watching that right fist draw near, Aphelia’s lips curved into a smile. How long had it been since she could throw everything aside and fight like this? The last time might have been back when she was still the Hero. A Valkyrie’s Weapon Master was, indeed, extraordinary.

But this is where it ends.

Until now, in her bout with Hrok, Aphelia had only used Crimson Fire and her Bracer Gauntlets. Hrok’s relentless, unorthodox assault came from the will housed within her weapons.

Those wills, like Artifact Spirits, were the true reason Hrok was this strong.

If it’s a contest of spirits, I won’t lose.

A maiden in finery stepped out of the Crimson Flame, long sword in hand, like a war goddess descending. She slashed straight for Hrok. Crimson Flame and wild Aether met and braided together, a clash so fierce it felt like tearing a seam in the air itself. Violet and Shilwen rushed to shield the regular soldiers. Ripples spread over their Aether barrier in layered rings.

“This is way too terrifying. Has Lady Brynhildr recovered to this level?”

Watching the barrier shudder, doubt flared in Shilwen’s eyes. In her mind, Brynhildr—now Aphelia—hadn’t returned to her old, casual space-rending. Yet this felt like Brynhildr in the flesh.

“No, she hasn’t fully recovered. It’s Hrok! She’s overreaching!”

Violet was a fighter. She saw deeper than Shilwen. She clenched her teeth and pumped more Aether into the barrier. With the power Aphelia showed, they didn’t need to worry about her. They needed to worry about themselves, and whether they could hold under that tidal force.

Light flared, then the shockwave rolled like a storm-lashed sea in all directions. Violet’s team, closest to the two, took it head-on. Their Aether barrier turned into a lone skiff in a typhoon, one gust from flipping, ready to drown in that deep ocean named power.

And then, in that instant, time seemed to freeze.

Crimson Flame spread in silence, racing after the outward shock. It swallowed the blast in a heartbeat, then folded back to hover around Aphelia.

“Huh? What happened? Was it Lady Brynhildr—”

Shilwen, who had been straining to hold the barrier, suddenly felt it vanish from her hands. The Aether screen cracked and fell apart. She collapsed, gulping air. If that surge hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t have lasted.

Violet’s face was pale too. She had taken some of Shilwen’s burden. Thank the stars that power was reined in. That had to be Aphelia’s doing. In that moment, she had clearly seen Crimson Fire devour the trailing shock.

Forcing that blast into herself would hit the body hard. Hrok fought without restraint. What if Aphelia got hurt? She had only just awakened, the leader of the Valkyries.

The thought lit Violet’s chest with panic.

She sprinted for the center. The white smoke from the flame drifted away. Standing in the clearing were Aphelia and Hrok.

Only Aphelia was still standing. Hrok had fainted under the force of the clash, hands locked around two broken blades, as if she hadn’t let go of the fight. Even unconscious, her instincts clutched her weapons tight.

Aphelia, hand on Hrok, felt it most clearly and sighed. At the last second, sensing the surge about to break, Hrok had used Aether to pull those two broken blades, hoping to land a final cut. Too bad. Before the two maidens in finery, she was a step slow.

But that kind of obsession is enough to make a strong one. No wonder she’s the Valkyries’ Weapon Master. That mad will to fight, that fierce devotion to weapons—Aphelia understood why Hrok earned the title.

“Aphelia! Are you alright?”

Violet rushed to her, checking her all over, terrified she’d find a wound. Her hands ran up and down without restraint, and heat climbed into Aphelia’s cheeks. She quickly said,

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Get Hrok off the field first.”

Aphelia passed Hrok to Violet. She wasn’t a doctor. Better leave urgent matters to professionals. She tried to take a step—and the world tilted. Her body gave out, and she folded to the ground.

So I’m spent too.

At the heart of the blast, Aphelia had to defend against Hrok’s chained attacks and stop the shockwave. Under her iron will, Crimson Fire found endless fuel, igniting every inch of air around her, barely holding before Violet’s barrier shattered.

And the shock she held back, of course, came due. It slammed into Aphelia, the meddler who caught it. She had burned through will to suppress it, but the backlash surged all at once.

She fell into darkness.

What a shame…

That was her last thought before unconsciousness. Shame that her strength still wasn’t enough.

In the blur, Aphelia slipped back into her era.

As the Hero, she swung the Holy Sword without mercy, led army after mighty army, and fought the Demon race to the death. A killing engine seeking a thin dawn in endless night, only after every foe lay cut down.

Later, as a Witch, she fell into the Demon World.

She saw a bloody succession struggle. She watched what true power looked like. She saw the tail-eating serpent named Uroboros, the Ouroboros. Lost without a goal, she almost vanished in ceaseless battle. Mist Bloom helped her seize Ouroboros, that dangerous double-edged sword.

She saw small kindness too. Lilo.

Her days with Lilo in the demon capital were short, yet they called her back. They were as happy as those days when she was a Hero, too young to know. Then it ended, when those calling themselves the Star Remnants appeared.

That was when Violet found her again. She had thought she’d never see her. Thought she’d gamble her life on battle forever. With them by her side, those days felt irreplaceable.

Reality slapped her awake, brutally. All because of Sigdrifa.

Since she appeared, Aphelia’s life felt like a joke. Life, memory, the past—were they all scripted for her eyes? Even the demon invasion, just to craft a perfect vessel after battle? And the sister she loved most—was she Sigdrifa’s piece from the start?

Are you kidding me?

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Why?

Was Aphelia doomed to walk as a puppet, on someone else’s script?

And lost in that fog, she lost Violet. Ah… before someone like Sigdrifa, with absolute strength, mortals are ants, no matter how they struggle. Like the girl who lost her head under pure-white Aether.

“Violet…”

Unconscious, Aphelia murmured.

Violet, keeping watch, grabbed her trembling right hand. She didn’t expect Aphelia to jolt upright, wrap her arms around her, and cry out:

“Violet, don’t die!”