Lilith stepped through the door, and a hard killing intent slammed into her like winter wind.

Reflex first, thought later; the little Hero slipped sideways like a flicked shadow.

No need for orders; the elf archer already had her bow singing.

A scarlet arrow whooshed, split the air like a comet, and nailed the bold attacker to the wall.

Vera didn’t trust silence; she loosed two more, a twin bite of fangs.

Arrows punched through flesh, sank deep into stone, and the wounded thing shrieked like iron on slate.

Vera winced, unhappy; one last arrow threaded the voice, and the room fell still as snowfall.

Lilith patted Vera’s shoulder and drew the archer back into herself like a receding tide.

The Astrologer raised her marble staff; pale-blue Star Energy misted the room, then gathered into a deep-blue orb like a lake.

Light returned, and the room showed its true face, like clouds parting after rain.

It wasn’t large; a handful of steps could cross it, yet danger had stood close, like a thorn under skin.

White marble laid the base; black ivy patterns climbed the walls, reaching for an unreachable sky like stubborn vines.

Only the ceiling felt far away, high as a distant moon; it looked less a sealed chamber than the belly of a tower.

“Is this where a treasure sleeps? Doesn’t feel like it.”

Lilith lifted her gaze; above, a complete Star Canvas spread like silk, the same sky she’d watched for three years.

But the Little White Dragon knew the maker lacked true star lore; not even a novice, just a passerby.

So either a star relic sits unused, or there’s no treasure; the thick Star Energy likely comes from heaps of marble, chance altars.

“Intel shouldn’t be wrong,” Nidhogg said, cool as night. “And the prize isn’t star-born. I’m a Black Dragon; why chase Silver Dragon trinkets? Keep looking. Come see this.”

The Black Dragon girl crouched at the far side and waved Lilith over like beckoning fireflies.

“Seeing you cast so freely, I thought you forgot you’re a Black Dragon. What’s up?” Lilith grumbled, but obeyed.

She crouched beside Nidhogg and looked.

The body on the wall was a dried husk, race unsure, human trunk and limbs like weathered branches.

Silver-white liquid gleamed at arrow wounds, not human blood; half the skull was a huge crystal, humming like ice.

Lilith touched it and felt crystal resonance, a chime under skin; no normal human could wear such a body.

“What is this? A native of the Dragon Territory?” Lilith tapped the crystal head.

It flickered, then hummed, and sprayed a jet of silver-white liquid like a ruptured spring.

The Black Swordsman moved quick, stepped in and shielded her, or Lilith’s clothes were done for.

The Little White Dragon eyed the liquid with a hint of disdain, then pulled out a big barrel like a deep well.

She started filling it, scoop by scoop, patient as a winter gatherer.

“What are you doing?” Nidhogg asked, curiosity sharp as frost. “Creatures around the Dragon Territory don’t bleed silver.”

“I think it’s Stellar Liquid,” Lilith said, eyes steady as stars. “I’ll take some to Asterios. I can handle Star Energy; it won’t hurt me.”

She kept collecting, from the floor and from the corpse, methodical as a tide.

When it stopped, she knocked the half-crystal head again and caught the spray like rain.

She worked until nothing remained, not a drop.

“Done. All packed.” Lilith stowed the brimming barrel; the Hero’s power gave her a bottomless pack like a cavern.

Only weapons capped out, but hauling stuff? Perfect.

“What now?” Lilith glanced at Nidhogg, voice light but wary. “Does your intel say where the treasure sits?”

“Hmm… Is there a false Star Canvas here?” Nidhogg rubbed her chin, thinking like an owl at dusk.

“Up there.” Lilith pointed at the ceiling. “This whole Star Canvas.”

“Isn’t it the same as the outside sky?”

“Don’t ask,” Lilith said. “To an Astrologer, this canvas and the real night are worlds apart. Forget it. Find your treasure.”

“Fine.” Nidhogg nodded and let it be.

The Black Dragon girl paced with her chin up, hunting a certain star like a cat hunting light.

Lilith couldn’t help; she propped her cheeks and watched, bored as a closed window.

Her thin tail flicked the floor, like shaking a leg; the snap felt good.

“Here.” Nidhogg stopped on a raised slab of marble and called Lilith over, excitement bright as sparks.

“Intel says the treasure sits beneath this floor.”

“Then why stand on it together? Shouldn’t we stand aside before opening?” Lilith frowned, baffled as fog.

“Easy. Trust me. Open.” Nidhogg smiled and whispered her spell like a wind key.

Lilith didn’t get a word out before the ground dropped; her stomach floated like a leaf in a sudden fall.

She looked down; the marble slab had been whisked away, and she hung midair in a very anti-Newton pose.

Understanding hit; she flailed uselessly, then yelped and fell straight down.

Pure Tom and Jerry.

“Ow… that hurt.”

Lilith clutched her sore backside and stood, anger fizzing like steam; she meant to unload on Nidhogg.

But she froze instead, eyes caught by a stone dais ahead, where a brilliant weapon lay like a sleeping comet.

It was a Broken Sword.