Night Frost tumbled across the floor like a kicked ember, then climbed up, dazed. Her dark-gold eyes cooled, weighing the uninvited hammer that had sent her flying.

It was a Monster, tiger-shaped and a size larger than any wild cat, black and white like stormcloud and frost. Dozens of slashes striped its hide, their edges ink-black, the stain spidering outward like mold.

Its back drew the gaze like a wound in the moon. The gash went bone-deep; the exposed white was glazed with a thin film of black liquid, a mirror-dark sheen that seemed to creep.

No—wasn’t creeping.

The Eye Orb squinted, a pupil within a pupil. It could see the fine, nearly invisible specks inside the black—worms. Wall-to-wall worms. They tunneled through the tiger-thing’s body, tearing flesh, gnawing nerves, then wearing the beast like a coat—becoming it.

“Parasites? Feels like that one famous goo—oh, right, no copyright. Can’t say.”

Night Frost’s golden eyes caught the gist, though she lacked the Orb’s cruel detail. It looked like a liquid mind steering the Monster. That thought alone put thorns under her skin—no matter what, that stuff couldn’t touch her.

She didn’t want a fight. Even if she did, her cooler head clipped the urge. If they brawled hard here, the exit would vanish like mist. She and Ren Changxiao would be bones in the dust.

The thought alone sent a chill crawling up her spine.

So no close-quarters—go long. The tiger reeked of Cantata Two, a mid-tier storm. Night Frost knew where she stood; she didn’t pretend her handful of fire could maul it. She only needed to stall its paws.

She miscounted by one. The Monster’s nerves were already chewed clean; pain was a memory. It barreled through her fireballs like a bull through reeds, charging straight for her. Night Frost twisted aside, the tiger’s shoulder hissing past like a black tide.

A splash of black liquid clung to her dress.

“What is this stuff?!”

She felt the Mana woven into her skirt getting eaten, thread by glowing thread. The Magic Layer over her skin would hold for a short breath—and then not.

She refused to become a puppet like that tiger.

Heat seethed through her skin, breath turning to steam. Fire surged from the soles of her feet like a sunrise. Most of the clinging worms crackled and fell, but a stubborn fraction shrugged off flame. At least the ones on the tiger dared not skim the girl’s blaze again.

“What a pain.”

She spat, frustrated as flint. Her Mana was down to dregs; she had to save some to hold back the black smear chewing at her. If she reverted form now, she’d be fish on a cutting board, the “liquid” with the knife. She turned and dove headlong into unknown void.

This time, she surfaced in a corridor.

Night Frost scraped along the wall, trying to grind those pests to paste. Useless. What clung, clung; what wriggled, wriggled.

“I just caught one. Don’t ask how.”

The Eye Orb stared at the black on its own nerve-tail, the stain like ink on a brush.

“Great bite… This worm gnawed your Mana and started blending in. While it eats your Magic Layer, it masks itself with your Mana—pretending to be your flesh. That’s why your attacks do nothing.”

“Also, they’re stubborn as winter grass. As long as they keep feeding, they’ve got life to spare and recovery to match. Nasty little things.”

“In short, you can’t kill what’s already latched onto you—but someone else can. That only holds for First Symphony and Cantata Two. By Chapter Three, your Magic Layer hardens. These brats can’t chew it.”

The Eye Orb’s verdict fell like cold rain.

“So they’re worms after all?”

Night Frost eyed the black smear writhing at her left waist, disgust curdling her gaze.

“That’s your takeaway… Maybe get the ones on my tail first.”

She pinched, popped the worm, flicked off the clinging black, then fixed the Orb with a level stare.

“Now what? I’ve got minutes of Mana left, tops.”

The Eye Orb sighed, then nudged a Magic Stone toward her like a cat pushing a gift. It knew her too well.

Night Frost used the elder’s method to draw the stone’s glow into herself. Life stretched by a few dozen minutes, thin but real. Safer, even if the Eye Orb, being a type two, could diagnose the worms but couldn’t fight—couldn’t even pinch.

“So per your logic, we need someone else to crush these things. But in this cursed place, apart from Lujin Lushi, Ren Changxiao, you, and me—who else is breathing? And this space is a knot of halls.”

“Th—there is someone.”

A weak girl’s voice drifted from a corner like a paper lantern in wind. Night Frost froze. Someone else was here. Which meant that whole chat with the Eye Orb had just—

“Who?”

By the left-hand wall, a girl shimmered into view and stood, fear wide in her eyes. Night Frost saw hope kindle there like a candle’s first spark. She knew this girl—the daughter of Director Hao, who’d taken in Lingchen Yao. Hao Wenqian.

“You’re a Magic Maiden? First Symphony.”

Night Frost recognized her, but she didn’t plan to greet. Among Magic Maidens, she was a name that drew blades—a Fallen One.

“Are you from HQ? Did they send you for us?”

“HQ?”

Night Frost shook her head, calm as snow.

“And I’m not a Magic Maiden. But we can work together. This space is crooked as a fox’s path. I need a hand.”

Hao Wenqian went bloodless. If not HQ, not a Magic Maiden, then only two roads: cyborg—or an enemy from the Abyss.

“D-don’t come closer!”

She pressed trembling hands to the gun, then leveled it with shaking wrists.

“I’m talking cooperation. Necessary? Fine. Stay here alone. I just swept the area. No other Magic Maidens… but plenty of Cantata Two Monsters.”

Night Frost baited the hook. Hao Wenqian wavered, then slowly lowered the gun. Better to trust this girl than be eaten in the dark. Besides, something about her felt… familiar.

“I need a favor. Gather Mana at your fingertips and pinch them, one by one. Fast. Or I get parasitized.”

Night Frost pointed at her left waist, where her skirt had been chewed thin. The black liquid sprawled on pale skin, nibbling the Magic Layer. It didn’t hurt—just itched like ants.

Hao Wenqian turned chalk white. The girl’s calm felt unreal, like someone she knew—someone she couldn’t place under all the fear flooding her chest.

“Okay…”

She did as told. In moments, the worms at Night Frost’s waist were gone. Night Frost felt her Mana run smooth again and exhaled, long and loose.

“Good. That’s one nest done. Let’s find an exit… that space rhinoceros.”

Hao Wenqian stood rooted. Night Frost beckoned, helpless as a teacher with a stubborn cat.

“I don’t bite. Why freeze up?”

“Oh…”

Hao Wenqian followed like a moth after a sleeve. She felt she could trust this Fallen One. That thought shocked her cold—Fallen One. But options were knives either way. Follow and die? Stay and die?

So trust, and live.

She trailed Night Frost’s shadow.

Their heels had barely turned the corner when Lu Jin and Lu Shi arrived. The dense Abyssal Aura pressed on their bones, and both halted. Lu Shi frowned at a puddle of dead black liquid, revulsion passing through her eyes like a shadow.

“It’s that thing…”

“We’ve got some Mana left. We can’t judge her strength or numbers yet. Not smart to clash. Priority is the space Monster.”

They’d burned too much Mana on those stubborn worms. Now they barely kept their Magic Armor lit. With Magic Stones, they could stretch their flame a little longer.

“Rest here first. We’re not getting out soon. The Twelfth District branch should have our missing report already. We haven’t moved for almost half an hour…”

Twelfth District branch headquarters. A woman sat before a bank of screens that hadn’t changed in hours, their glow like winter glass.

“Still no contact with Lu Jin and Lu Shi? Where were they last?”

“Last ping was near the hospital on Yongning Road, Twelfth District. We’ve sent Moon Owl and Saint Dawnlight. Moon Owl reports spatial fluctuation… a space lock. Tricky.”

A man burst through the door, breath like a bellows.

“Moon Owl can handle it! Send Moon Owl!”

Moon Owl shrugged on a long coat, eyes narrowing to knife-edges. Beside her, Dawnlight—short hair, staff in hand—followed with a tilt of chin and pride in her gaze. Moon Owl tore a seam in space; Dawnlight stepped through on bright heels.

“Careful.”

“Mm. I know. Others may pick at you. I won’t. You’re a worthy rival.”

Dawnlight entered the locked space and lobbed a sphere of light at the sleeping space rhinoceros. The beast blinked awake, eyes foggy, wiggled its rump like a sleepy ox, then flopped back down.

“…”

Moon Owl paused, then gestured for Dawnlight to find Lu Jin and Lu Shi first. With their timing and her spacework, they could handle the rhinoceros. Better Dawnlight front it—Moon Owl’s name didn’t open doors.

Moon Owl split another rift. On the far side, Lu Jin raised her Rosefire Pistol, and Lu Shi lifted her new dagger.

A pale hand reached through, and Dawnlight’s exasperated voice floated after it like a soft drumbeat.

“It’s me. Dawnlight.”