The light orb wasn’t big, but it moved like a shooting star.

Night Frost rolled twice across the concrete. She brushed the red‑black dress at her back, its fabric blown open like scorched petals, and winced.

Not the time to fuss. Clothes woven from Mana weren’t worth fretting over. Feed Mana back in, and they knit themselves whole.

So strong.

Half‑kneeling, Night Frost’s gold eyes narrowed to knife slits. She tracked the orb’s path to a nearby rooftop, where a short‑haired girl stood with a silver staff and a pale yellow puff dress, moonlight pooling around her.

That strike just now had blown apart the Magic Layer on Night Frost’s back.

The Magic Layer was the sheath of Mana clinging to a Magic Maiden before and after transformation. A natural shield. It shaved off harm like bark taking the bite of wind.

Its thickness varied by talent and Magic Stone. Right now, Night Frost’s Magic Layer ranked top tier within [First Symphony].

To shatter a top‑tier [First Symphony] Magic Layer in one hit… obvious. She was [Cantata Two].

On the distant roof, the girl lifted almond‑bright eyes. Clear, yet a ripple of wariness crossed like a fish under ice. She tapped her metal staff to concrete. The sound skimmed the empty night and fell into Night Frost’s ears like a pebble in a well.

After the third tap, the figure on the roof swelled fast in Night Frost’s sight.

Night Frost reacted in a snap and rolled left. At the same heartbeat, a light‑wrapped staff slammed where she’d been. Cobweb cracks raced outward, spidering until they kissed her toes and stalled.

Pale gold light seeped along the fissures like sap, then burst into brilliance. It grabbed Night Frost like a wave and hurled her into a nearby utility pole.

She grimaced, got up, and swallowed the pain like a mouthful of ice.

Any closer and she wouldn’t even be standing. Her heart pounded wild in her chest. Not nerves—an electric, first‑ever excitement.

Strange. The short‑haired girl in front of her was an unbeatable enemy for her current self. Yet fear wouldn’t come. Only a feverish thrill.

Her body craved blood. It craved struggle.

Mana ran with her blood into bones and limbs. Her small frame gathered force like a drawn bow. Dark‑gold eyes locked on the girl’s every breath, tiger‑still before the pounce, ready to kill with one strike.

The short‑haired girl moved.

Night Frost wasn’t the only one charging power.

A golden light‑sword swept sideways. Benches and signs stood like tofu and fell in two neat halves. Night Frost knew she couldn’t cleanly dodge, but waiting to die wasn’t her style. She ducked low, kicked off, and skimmed the blade’s edge toward the girl like a swallow riding a gust.

Mana surged inside her and turned to rolling flame. Deep red fire spilled from the ruffles of her black‑and‑crimson dress and wrapped her whole. With her speed, she became a cannonball.

The light‑sword’s wind‑up was long. The girl couldn’t pull it back in time. The flame‑swaddled “shell” was already at her. Fire bloomed huge in eyes clear as autumn water.

Boom!

The “shell” smashed into the girl’s Magic Layer. Both shields exploded in an instant like glass under a hammer.

The short‑haired girl’s physique was weaker than Night Frost’s. She tumbled across the ground, rolled several times, and barely stopped, a red line of blood painting her lip. Night Frost didn’t get off easy either. A [Cantata Two] shield plus Magic Layer hit back hard; the rebound shredded most of her dress, and a sudden flash of skin burned in the night.

“The Magic Stone’s already in hand. No need to keep brawling! She’s [Cantata Two]. Her recovery outpaces yours by a lot. Even if your body’s tougher, you’ll lose a war of attrition. How many more attacks like that can you launch?”

“But—”

“Get a grip!”

The Eye Orb’s metallic voice rang in Night Frost’s ear like cold water. The urge to keep fighting guttered. Clarity returned.

Right. She already had the Magic Stone. Goal met. Keeping this up would earn no profit—only risk her life.

She tossed the Magic Stone to the Eye Orb, warned it twice not to eat it, then gathered the last threads of Mana in her core. She jumped, slipped into the small grove beside the park, and vanished like a shadow swallowed by leaves.

“Bye‑bye, Magic Maiden sis~”

Night Frost’s sweet voice echoed through the empty park like a bell.

The short‑haired girl who’d been knocked down wiped the blood at her mouth, unwilling fire in her gaze. She raised her staff and drifted to the Abyss Gate. Filaments of light poured from the staff and stitched at the crack like golden thread. A bandage, not a cure.

“That one’s Mana was [First Symphony]. But her physique beat most [Cantata Two].”

Her chest rose and fell fast. Her face looked pale. In the staff’s glow, color returned to her cheeks like dawn on snow. No hint of injury left.

“Moon Owl said an unknown Magic Maiden appeared before. Must be her. HQ’s directive says she likely comes from the Abyss. Priority kill. Right—HQ said her codename’s weird. They called her Night Frost.”

She reviewed the bulletin in her head and checked the area for the Abyss’s touch. If the Abyssal Aura had seeped in, this whole zone would be sealed.

“I was too careless. If I hadn’t tried to one‑shot, she wouldn’t have beaten me. I felt she was a spent arrow. Her Mana might be huge, but it bleeds out even faster. In a long fight, I’d be the one standing.”

She bit her lip. She couldn’t fathom how that Night Frost exploded so fiercely at the brink.

“Dawnlight, what’s with the rush? What happened?”

A girl arrived in a white lab coat, black boots thudding steady to ground. She tucked the black hair brushing her black frames behind one ear. Her gaze slid to the short‑haired girl on the bench, Dawnlight, who hugged her staff and bit her lip.

“Who did you fight?”

Arms crossed, she took in cracked concrete and a wrecked park. Scorch marks like claws scored the ground. Two different Mana signatures floated in the air, braided with heavy Abyssal Aura.

“It’s nothing. None of your business. Why are you here? Weren’t you treating patients?”

The girl drew breath to speak. Dawnlight turned her head away, flicked her staff, and lifted off. She flew opposite the moonlight, a pale streak slipping into shadow.

The lab‑coat girl pressed her forehead, touched the deep‑blue Magic Stone at her waist, and followed with a sigh.

“Seriously. You know I can’t fly.”

Silence returned to the park. Moonlight still pooled on the Abyss Gate.

The calm distortion rippled again. Golden strands swelled outward, and a faint Abyssal Aura leaked like cold mist.

A puddle of oily black slid through the crack and splashed to the ground. From the slime, Monsters pushed out heads—slug‑like, grotesque, and huge.

Lingchen Yao didn’t rush home. He found a corner, canceled his transformation, and changed into a black hooded sweatshirt. He pulled on a mask and gloves. He used Mana to grind down the Abyssal Aura clinging to his skin like smoke.

That was one perk of mastering Mana. With his own strength and the Eye Orb’s help, he could scrub the residue and be back to normal in half a day.

He headed for the black market. He’d sell all his [First Symphony] Magic Stones, cover tuition, and pick up useful Magic Tools. After that battle, the truth hit hard: if his opponent hadn’t underestimated him, he’d be the one dead.

Thinking on it now left the taste of near‑death, bitter as ash.

Why had he charged in?

He could be rash, but not suicidal. He wasn’t the type to crave a fight. Did transforming mess with his temperament that badly?

“I told you that bracelet’s a half‑finished prototype. Side effects are normal. But only while you’re transformed. Your core self isn’t hit much.”

The Eye Orb projected a report. Lingchen Yao skimmed it and nodded, half convinced. Man and orb cut through alleys. Guided by the Eye Orb’s memory, Lingchen Yao reached a shabby hut and pushed the door. Inside, nothing but darkness and a reek like rotting tide.

According to the Eye Orb, this was a black market not yet taken by the officials. Villain crews like the Eye Orb’s traded here often.

“Is this place really safe…”

He eyed the bare room. It looked like a trap even rats would avoid. Safety seemed a joke.

“Order Keepers don’t waste time on this. They’re busy people. Places like this are beneath them.”

The Eye Orb glanced at his pinched expression and sighed long. It could guess exactly what the kid’s head was full of.

Money. Money. Money. And more money.

Fallen straight into the coin jar.

Lingchen Yao shot it a look that said, You’ve never been broke. You don’t know a poor man’s pain.

“Relax. Trades here are guaranteed. Unless someone wants to burn their business down. Every black market has a master. To run one, they… might not even be human. Either vast connections or deep pockets. If you want to make trouble, you’d better qualify.”

“If the black market’s master is that strong, how come some get seized by the officials?”

“Because they’re still weak compared to the officials.”

Lingchen Yao found a button in the corner. “Doorbell. One long, one short, four long, five short, one long, four short.”

“What a pain of a code. ¬_¬｀”

The door opened. Two hulking brutes strode out of an elevator. Each stood close to three meters tall. Veins knotted like vines under skin with a dark green cast. A faint pressure rolled off them. Those iron‑packed muscles looked ready to beat twenty untransformed Lingchen Yaos.