Dying by your own side’s hand—laughable, like tripping over your own shadow.

No. Qianchun was taking Aklatia’s trial now, her ties to the old crew cut thin as spider silk. Yao Ting had a point—Qianchun had already defected in heart. Most who clawed through the underground lived like starving wolves, teeth bared for survival.

Fear crushed Qianchun’s chest like a cold fist. Time froze, and her heartbeat staggered toward silence. Yet Yao Ting’s full-draw arrow, crackling with golden lightning, didn’t pierce her heart. Crimson, furnace-hot fire erupted from the crack under Qianchun’s feet like a volcano waking.

A towering wall of flame met the arrow head-on. Thunder-light was swallowed by rolling tongues of fire. Heat roared, white steam veiled the ground, then vanished the next breath like breath on glass.

The wooden shaft scorched black and brittle, fell and powdered into soot. The metal head glowed red as an ember. A fierce heatwave slapped it sideways. It buried itself in the wall with a hiss.

Night Frost sat on the outer windowsill like a red-black swallow. One leg crossed over the other, one hand cupped her brow, the other bloomed with fireworks. The Eye Orb lazed on her shoulder, staring at a lost-looking Yao Ting.

At that flash of Crimson, Qianchun’s despair burst like a soap bubble. Hope, thin as dawn mist, rose in her chest. As the firewall fell, she gritted her teeth and hauled her numb body to Night Frost’s side.

“Who… who are you?”

Yao Ting flinched aside like a cat scenting a tiger. The aura rolling off Night Frost was terrifying—Mana braided with Abyssal Aura, cold as a grave. As a First Symphony, fear snared her spine. Years in the underground had taught Yao Ting one truth—the girl across from her could kill her. The dress was opulent, the flames were brutal. No doubt—Cantata Two.

But Night Frost wasn’t. She was First Symphony, though in some ways she could spar with a Cantata Two like a knife with a spear.

“An Order Keeper? No… something else. If you’re Cantata Two, why haven’t I heard a whisper about you?”

Yao Ting’s fear-drowned eyes cut to Qianchun by the window. She forced up a heavy arm, pointed, and gasped out the words like spitting thorns.

“You’re a traitor.”

“Yeah. You called it.” Qianchun’s voice was dry as ash. “Even if you hadn’t shot, I’d file false intel, then apply to leave. The data would all be fake.”

Yao Ting’s bow wouldn’t draw again. That arrow had drained her Magic Stone and every drop of Mana in her veins. Qianchun was bleeding, but once the numbness faded, she’d lift her little knife and set it in Yao Ting’s heart.

“Heh… then why should I kill you? If you walk, I get my stage. I report you, and I pocket the bounty. This… is a perfect grave.”

Qianchun pulled the small knife from her bag. Her steps were slow, steady, like walking into rain.

“You narrowed your road.”

The blade slid into Yao Ting’s heart with a quiet, wet sound. Blood fountained, arcing in the air like a red crescent, speckling Qianchun’s side. If you don’t fight, you don’t live. Leave a witness, and the hounds come. Yao Ting had to die.

Joining Aklatia meant being ready to be hunted by the old pack. With Yao Ting gone, they’d be blind for a while. That was mercy in a cruel world.

“You passed. Head back. I’ll take care of this.”

Qianchun threw on a cloak from her bag, hooded her Blood-soaked side, and caught the Key Night Frost tossed her. She slipped down a narrow path toward the rental room where she’d spent last night, to wash the Blood from her skin like washing night from her face.

Night Frost paced the cement room like a caged ember. Soot on the wall and the metallic stink of Blood clung like tar. The Eye Orb said some magic could scrub it clean, but neither of them knew it. It offered another answer—wait.

After Lingchen Yao transformed, her body would brew a dense Abyssal Aura on its own, like fog pooling in a valley. When it grew thick enough, an Abyssal Rift would open like a seam in the sky.

The recent large Abyss incursion meant one, maybe several slabs of the Abyss were drifting close to their world. At times like this, rifts opened like cracked ice.

Night Frost didn’t vent much Abyssal Aura. But given time, she could tear open a modest passage, just big enough for First Symphony Monsters to slip through. Those would be weak. They’d splash, not wave.

The noon sun burned like a white brand. Even transformed, Night Frost felt it bite. She found a patch of shade and sat, not caring that the ground was dirty as coal.

The Eye Orb’s threadlike nerves draped warm across the nape of her neck, like ivy on stone.

“Kid, that younger one had spine. She didn’t flinch at killing. You… don’t have that steel yet. You’re not ready. If you want to keep going, think hard. Predator and prey. Life and death on a coin toss. That’s the law below ground.”

Silence first. Then a slow breath. The Eye Orb was right. She didn’t have the courage to kill people. Monsters were easier, like nightmares you could punch. She’d been a normal person not long ago. Acceptance takes time, like winter thaw.

She needed to be ready. To keep walking.

Night Frost raised her hand. Fire licked out, a cremator’s blaze. Yao Ting’s body collapsed into ash, slow as snow melting on a hearth.

She looked at the pale-gray powder on concrete. A knot twisted inside, thin and stubborn. Minutes ago, that had been a living person. Before, a death before her eyes would’ve tied her tongue in a hard knot. Now she could banter with the Eye Orb and map the road ahead like lines on a palm.

She knew the bracelet tugged at her nature. She also knew this wasn’t the bracelet. Even if she released the form, fear wouldn’t surge back. She had changed. She met the Eye Orb, took power into her hands, and stepped off the old path like stepping off a bridge.

She had to go on. No road back, only forward.

The air thickened with Abyssal Aura like smoke in a closed room.

In the center of the open concrete ruin, above the gray-white ash, a pale violet slit bloomed in midair, then spread like ink in water.

A front paw punched through the fragile Rift, snapping it like sugar glass. Crimson eyes swept the world, taking stock like a hunter at the tree line.

“A Dreadwolf. An old friend.”

Night Frost knew the shape at a glance. Compared to the last one she killed, this was a cub. She moved to finish it. A cold dagger kissed her throat. Chill climbed her spine like frost up bamboo.

“Who are you?”

Night Frost narrowed her dusk-gold eyes. She caught a silhouette—a girl in a dress like a black swan. In a moonless night, no one would see her pass.

“Releasing Monsters from the Abyss is a major crime.”

The blade traced a fine Blood line along Night Frost’s neck, thin as a hair.

Fire surged from Night Frost’s pores like a second skin. In a blink, she was wrapped in flame. Lu Shi withdrew the dagger and melted into the shadows like ink sinking into paper.

“An ability tied to shadow. Or to darkness itself. Perfect for an assassin…”

The Eye Orb’s gaze bulged, scanning the dark like an owl. It tucked closer under Night Frost’s mantle. Memory was fog, but instinct screamed—these two girls were a pair. Which meant another Magic Maiden had them in her sights.

Before it died, its recollections had blurred. But gut told it this form and its death were knotted with these two. It warned Night Frost fast: there were two Magic Maidens, both at Cantata Two. Beware the flintlock hiding in the dark.

“Her flame’s a nightmare to handle. It clings like pitch. It’ll cost a chunk of Mana to burn it off. That’s part of her gift.”

Lu Shi scorched the fire from her dagger, then stepped along the rim of the light like a shadow at dusk. Each time she neared the fireglow, her outline showed, and the dark hid her once she stepped back. The brighter the light, the clearer her shape. That was the basic gift her Magic Stone had carved into her.

Night Frost watched the gloom like watching tall grass for a snake. She had to break away fast. If her Mana ran dry, her identity would spill out like Blood. She hadn’t expected the Order Keepers to move this fast.

She couldn’t have guessed it. Lu Jin and Lu Shi were running a hunt for a mysterious creature, caught the thick tang of Abyssal Aura nearby, and rushed in. Bad luck, plain and bitter.

Scarlet Mana bolts screamed from a white Rosefire Pistol in the distance. A few shots, and the Dreadwolf’s body tore into holes like moth-eaten cloth. Lu Jin had moved. By the arc of the bolts, she was on a rooftop not far. Night Frost couldn’t rush her. She had to deal with the knife in her shadow.

To Lu Shi’s eye, Night Frost stood at Cantata Two, same tier as herself. Worse, the fire around Night Frost checked her darkness like sun checks frost. By accident or design, Night Frost had drifted into Lu Jin’s blind angle.

Lu Jin could punch through walls, sure. At this range, though, even a penetrating shot wouldn’t cripple a Cantata Two. Not because her bullets were weak, but because Cantata Two reflexes were razor-sharp. The moment a round kissed the outer wall, a Mana shield would bloom to blunt the kill. And Lu Jin’s Mana ran light; she couldn’t afford to blaze hard.

“Sis, her Abyssal Aura’s about to solidify. The Rift is expanding. We can’t drag this out. End it fast. Don’t let her pull stronger Monsters.”

Lu Jin’s words settled like a hammer. Lu Shi chose.

“Darkness devours the moon, night smothers the light. Hide every lurking shadow. Forge a prison of shade. Bind with the hands of night. Χέρι σκιών!”

“Holy bells ring, the chapel sings. Hellfire reforges the sacred rose. The rose-heart seeds into burning flame. για τριαντάφυλλο Αγιος Μουσκέτο!”