All reports from the Valkyries were sorted in minutes, like rivers channeled into clean canals.

The bulk of the data had already been preprocessed by Uroboros, sifted like grain from chaff.

Every Valkyrie needing aid, or ready to give it, was listed and lit like beacons.

Under Uroboros’s rapid redeployment, they streaked toward the regions that called for them.

Her plan, of course, barely counted the remaining humans on Earth.

Truth is, anyone still clinging to life was one in ten thousand, a guttering ember in a storm.

Under Origin’s life-plunder, the planet’s “highest” species had become an empty title, a husk.

Most had been stripped to base elements and scattered like dust across the land.

The few lucky ones under a Valkyrie’s temporary shelter were already writhing.

Aether surged inside Earth like a crimson tide, bending bodies into twisted shapes, pain like iron in the lungs.

Uroboros didn’t hesitate.

She loosed an Arrow of Black Mist, clean and cold, and culled the aberrations on the spot.

Aether can guide evolution, but it isn’t a cure-all.

Humans on Earth hadn’t touched Aether in who knows how long.

Drown them suddenly in a high concentration, and even survival becomes a bad joke.

Evolution isn’t done in a day.

It’s a long harvest under a steady Aether sky, a patient season upon season.

Now this runaway Aether falls equally on everyone, a blind storm with no mercy.

For Earth’s people, it’s a calamity writ by heaven.

Imagine any species forced to compress an eon into a heartbeat.

Could flesh and soul bear the strain without tearing?

Land beasts once rose from the sea’s cradle.

Shove that arc back onto today’s bodies, and bones will twist, forms will convulse.

Valkyries watched the ones they’d just saved bloom into warped monsters, hope curdling to horror.

Aether, a panacea in gentler days, turned venomous.

Many had to kill comrades before the change took hold, hands shaking yet resolute.

Fortunately, Uroboros’s Arrow of Black Mist cut the spread short, a black seal on bloodshed.

“This won’t do. The planet’s sliding worse by the hour.

You can’t stay here much longer.

Violet, take the data handling and the feedback.

I’ll be right back.”

She swept the holographic Earth to Violet’s station like pushing a chess piece across lacquer.

Then she let heavy black mist swallow her whole.

Her body unfurled into a giant serpent and shot out, a shadow lance through smoke.

No time for Violet to hesitate—permissions dumped into her hands like hot coals.

The data flood followed the keys and slammed into Violet’s mind, a torrent through a narrow gate.

She couldn’t refuse—Uroboros’s transfer was brute force, a black tide without warning.

For a heartbeat, Violet’s brain went “offline,” lights flickering in a storm-dark temple.

“Seriously… ever heard of compromise?

Anyone else’s head would’ve popped!”

She drew a deep breath, annoyance first, action second, her voice riding the Aether Network.

Veins rose at her temples like fine cords.

If she hadn’t built this Network herself, the real-time feed would’ve crushed her skull.

The Network sensed the creator switch, but the surge couldn’t be stopped mid-flow.

Violet’s consciousness plugged in, and her admin privileges flared, cool and firm.

The load eased at once, like sand pouring into a wider basin.

From the Network’s depths came Violet’s complaint, and Uroboros smiled like a little devil.

She’d tossed the Network to her on purpose, sly as a cat.

She’d left a safeguard too, a hidden hand under the table.

Looks like she won’t need it—this world’s Violet’s got chops.

Next came Uroboros’s show.

“Wait—was that Uroboros?

How is she that fast?!”

On the Earth model, her light-point blinked—north hemisphere one breath, south the next.

It flickered over island chains by the equator, quick as starlight on waves.

By the time Violet looked up, Uroboros was back.

She brought several Valkyries and trainees, wounds already bound, faces pale as moonlight.

They’d barely landed when the dizziness hit—legs jelly, steps listing like drunks.

Violet wove Aether into broad nets, caught them before they crumpled, and held them up to breathe.

“Leave them to you for now.

More wounded are inbound.

Find a building—you can’t be lying out like corpses in the open.

If you can, use your powers and raise a fortress.

That’s the safest play.”

Black mist curled again around Uroboros, a night river coiling to strike.

She scanned the horizon—some buildings still stood, cracked but not broken.

She’d skimmed the oceans moments ago and glimpsed a malice gestating in the deep.

The Valkyries were still weak.

Better to hide, fold steel behind stone.

Violet nodded, calm over strain.

She had no spare hands, so she spun crimson Aether into a giant cocoon and sealed the first group safe.

As Uroboros burst away like a trail of light, Violet sent a new bulletin across the Aether Network, crisp and steady.

Above, the rescue burned bright.

Below, Aphelia dove straight for the core, guided by ink-black Aether like a night compass.

She arrowed toward the Earth Vein, a maze of tunnels and currents humming under stone.

At the center, spurred by Sigdrifa, the Aether’s rampage turned the core into a bomb ready to bloom.

Even Aphelia had to move with care, breath held like a blade.

She wouldn’t die from her Origin’s motherworld exploding, but Hrok in the Earth Vein was only a spirit.

He’d shatter under a strike of that magnitude.

And Violet and the others on the surface?

They weren’t ready to tank a motherworld’s self-detonation.

Aphelia reined in her own Aether, a quiet cloak over a burning heart.

Even so, the riptides were vicious, teeth in every current.

Her triple-layer defenses held, silver walls in a storm.

Truth be told, the Crimson Fire alone could shield Hrok’s new body.

“Found you…”

Ink-black Aether led her to the core line where Hrok lay woven into the flow.

The Aether there was strong enough to tear ordinary True Gods apart, a grinder under glass.

Aphelia slipped through the storms, easy as a knife through silk, and entered the torrent.

The instant she crossed, the Earth Vein’s rejection slammed into her, a shove from an ancient door.

She answered with a cold smile.

Crimson Fire replaced the outer black, a red sun under a black veil.

Before the domineering Primordial Flame, even a motherworld’s Aether drew back and bowed.

You’re a motherworld?

I face Origin itself without fear—why would I fear you?

She leaned into the flood and moved toward Hrok’s half-formed crystal body, slow and sure.

Near him, she peeled the Crimson Fire back, a careful hand lifting heat away.

She guided the new body close to the Aether crystal where his soul slept.

“You’ve worked hard, Hrok.”

His calm face drew a sigh from her, a ripple in still water.

Even prepared, a trip like this scars the soul.

Even Aphelia needs time to harmonize with her power.

Getting his soul out intact is already the edge of her limit.

The Aether crystal sheathing his soul began to melt, a frost turning to rain.

Hrok’s soul showed clear again, a soft outline in red light.

Aphelia’s black Aether walled off the torrent, making room for two—him and the waiting body.

He was unconscious, adrift.

He couldn’t move himself.

So Aphelia would.

“Soul transfer… heh.

First time I’m doing this for someone else.”

She gave a wry smile.

Behind the black Aether, the Crimson Fire clung like a shield to skin.

A faint light-point appeared from within her, a firefly of destiny.

It fell into her palm and glowed.

Under its glow, Hrok’s soul stirred, as if called by a bell at dawn.

He rose, eyes still closed, a sleeper walking toward warmth.

Unconscious, guided by the light, he came to the new body and lay down, perfectly aligned.

In that heartbeat, the body jolted hard, a bowstring snapping.

His flickering soul lost its outline and sank into flesh, two becomes one.

“Kah!”

Hrok coughed violently, air carving his throat raw.

His eyes snapped open like shutters in a storm.

He surged upright, and his forehead smacked square into Aphelia’s chest.