Under the Order Keepers’ coordination, the sealing grand formation flared and wrapped the Twelfth District like a steel-laced veil.

After debate, they sent fifty First Symphony to stand in for Lu Jin, like sandbags against a flood.

The upper ranks called it necessary sacrifice, cold as winter rain.

Cantata Two outmuscles First Symphony by a canyon-wide margin.

Those who could move now were Moon Owl, Lu Jin, Lu Shi, and that never-seen Cantata Three, a shadow behind the curtain.

Moon Owl streaked through the city like a midnight arrow.

Her cold Blade punched through Monsters climbing from the Rift, then she vanished, a wraith slipping between skirmishes to harvest lives cleanly.

Lu Jin and Lu Shi lacked her ghostly tricks, yet their tandem killed faster, like twin shears snapping through cloth.

All this was only an appetizer, a clink of chopsticks before the feast.

Cantata Two hadn’t truly entered, the storm still holding its breath.

To the Abyss, these Monsters were expendable ash; to humans, each one meant a scar that never healed.

From the pitch-black Abyssal Rift, beast-shapes with bulging black boils crawled out, like ticks spilling from a wound.

Something tugged them onward, a tide slipping toward one place.

At her console, the woman flew drones and spread mana crystal salt along their path like frost.

The result was clear: the parasitized herd drifted toward the central sealing formation, the only spot left unsalted.

Her intel said those insects could tear open an Abyssal Rift, so she baited them, a fisherman fixing the pier.

Lure every bug to one point, and the Rift’s mouth would anchor there like a nailed lid.

With the grand formation and the Obsidian Stone suppressing, anything Cantata Two and above would be easier to handle, like wolves in a pen.

A trapped beast thrashes.

As predicted, the parasitized Monsters shuffled into the center.

When most had entered, the formation flared and ringed them in, a cage of light snapping shut.

Elsewhere, Moon Owl cleared the un-parasitized strays rampaging through streets, then raced for the central ward, a cyclone in human shape.

Lu Jin and Lu Shi hit a snag; two Cantata Two beasts burst from nowhere and blocked their road like falling gates.

Moon Owl reached the array’s edge like a drawn bow.

Globs of black liquid piled like tar hills.

A deep cleft slowly formed, and mismatched insects poked out, heads tasting the air like needles.

The bugs were weak, but countless, like rain that never stops.

She could clear them, but it wasn’t the place to spend that gift.

She synced with the two Cantata Two maintaining the formation, gears meshing in a clock of war.

Moon Owl took the burden of the ward, buying those two minutes to move; she wasn’t a normal Cantata Two.

For a short time, she could split her presence, like a moon doubled on rippling water.

Freed, the two waded into the swarm and scythed through it, a harvest in black rain.

The plan worked, clean as a sprung snare.

Sensing the trap, the swarm’s masters sent no more, leaving the Abyssal Rift yawning like a cold well.

The two Cantata Two flowed back into the array like spent waves.

Moon Owl took a breath, like a diver breaking the surface.

“You don’t match the rumors. Good working with you.”

Moon Owl said nothing, tore a slit in space, and left, a knife through silk.

At her desk, the woman still frowned, clouds massing in her eyes.

This invasion felt weak by half, like thunder with no rain.

Records said a large breach cost at least two or three districts’ worth of resources.

They had grown stronger, yes, but something rang false, like a note out of tune.

No matter the growth, they couldn’t possibly crush the Abyss in a clean sweep.

“A Rift near Yongning Road Hospital—wide enough for many Cantata Two! Moon Owl!”

Cold sweat broke over her like a sudden squall; thank heaven she never looked away.

Letting a single Cantata Two slip was a mortal sin, a crack in a dam.

“Received.”

Moon Owl ended the call, a blade sliding back to its sheath.

The woman leaned back—and the ground bucked like an earthquake stallion, throwing her to the floor.

The room shuddered; blood-red alarms drowned it in light like a sunrise of knives.

She scrambled up and pulled nearby feeds; a massive beast stood before the camera, studying it like a hunter.

“Cantata Three…”

She stepped back without meaning to, legs wobbling like reeds.

Moon Owl reached the alley, a shadow threading rubble.

Houses around had been knocked askew by the Rift’s backdraft, like cards scattered by wind.

“So this is the human realm?”

The giant lion spoke, golden eyes weighing the street like scales.

“Decades gone, and it’s all changed… Ha! I see an interesting one. You lot go play. This human is mine. I won’t keep her waiting.”

The lion paced forward, its oppressive body looming like a stormfront.

Behind it, the Rift slowly sealed; the Cantata Two that came with it vanished like fish diving.

Moon Owl’s pupils tightened.

She reported to the woman, words crisp as flint.

“Nice energy on you. A strong one!”

The lion burst forward like a thunderhead breaking.

She read the danger, shaped a cold Blade, and met its cleaving forepaw head-on, steel to claw.

Man and beast each slid back two steps, like dancers breaking apart.

“Good, good. Now the main course!”

The two Cantata Two facing Lu Jin and Lu Shi appeared strangely, like stones skipping from nowhere.

They didn’t know whence, only that they were enemies, knives on a dark road.

Lu Jin and Lu Shi cut down the two beasts from the Rift, then spurred toward Moon Owl like arrows loosed.

With her space-born arts, Moon Owl held a small edge, a cat on raindrops.

The lion was gouged and bleeding, red pouring like rain.

It roared.

Fire burned in its eyes as it glared, the sound a sky-splitting peal, anger or pain spilling like lava.

“You’re already dead.”

Space shattered like glass and re-sealed mid-flight, leaving half a lion’s corpse and a naked magic core.

Blood lacquered the street.

The lion’s voice fell thin, a candle guttering.

“You win…”

It toppled, a felled tree in a red river.

Lu Jin and Lu Shi arrived and stared at the torn, blood-slick road, then at Moon Owl, spotless as frost.

“Plenty of Cantata Two slipped into the city, shadows crossing the gate. They’re yours…”

Moon Owl reformed a cold Blade, moonlight freezing in her palm.

She looked toward the restless ruins and sprinted, a swallow into the gale.

The Twelfth District Order Keeper base lay beneath that rubble field like a buried heart.

The Monsters’ push felt purposeful, like ants with a map.

Why? Every Order Keeper base was sealed in secrecy.

They shouldn’t know; they shouldn’t even think that far, like wolves reading maps.

…

“Where are you going?”

Yun Mengmeng clutched a lamb plush and followed it into a narrow alley, like a moth after a candle.

“Huh? What was I doing… I can’t remember… Oh, I was going to help at the sealing formation…”

She scratched her head, thoughts scattering like sparrows.

Her gift found “secrets,” but it ran wild, a river without banks.

She always forgot pieces when she used it.

The lamb plush faced the Order Keeper base and twisted, muttering like a sleepwalker.

“Who am I? Why am I here? Ah… I remember! My king…”

It turned toward Yun Mengmeng as it whispered.

White cotton became white fur; the soft coffee-colored horns hardened into terror.

The cramped alley couldn’t hold it; the bulk pressed outward, and houses toppled like toys.

The contract hadn’t snapped, yet nothing answered, silence like frost.

The sheep Monster stepped in, scarlet eyes dripping bloodlust.

It wanted to crush the girl—its prey, warm as a stray lamb.

“Yangyang?!”

Yun Mengmeng stumbled back, legs jelly-soft, and tripped on a stone.

Terror flooded her eyes; death closed in, and her throat made no sound, a bird with clipped wings.

“Close your eyes…”

A light Blade sliced the plush to drifting confetti.

A girl descended like a goddess, a pink halo rippling from her, and she lifted the fainted child gently.

“The contract’s gone still… Where did this Monster come from… There’s no Abyssal Rift nearby. Wait, the corpse… it’s gone?”

Not the time to dwell; the river was already rising.

She set Yun Mengmeng down safely and turned toward the Order Keeper base—toward that huge Monster, blatant among the pack.

Ram’s horns, bull’s body, lion’s head, serpent tail.

A Chimera, a nightmare stitched from four beasts.

The records showed a Cantata Two once; this one felt like Cantata Three, a mountain wearing fur.

Its crushing aura swept out like a falling mountain.

The lion head roared, and rings of sound surged like storm surf, smashing rebar and concrete as if they were sugar.

Qianchun could see that bulk from indoors; it was impossible to miss, a shadow on the moon.

She wanted to run to Lingchen Yao, but his last message on the screen told her to stay safe.

Countless First Symphony and a handful of Cantata Two Monsters prowled near the rental like jackals.

Qianchun gripped a broken Magic Stone shard and stayed inside, holding her breath like a hare in grass.

Moon Owl fenced with the Chimera, two comets in collision.

Her space-twisting art made most Monsters lose her trail, her edge in soloing a Cantata Three.

But the beast was thick-hide and sharp-sense; she struggled to land cuts, and it failed to catch her, a deadlock.

Only one path remained, a bridge over a cliff.

“Traveler who wanders the cosmos, pause and take pity. Tear asunder the void and the real. Void Banishment—Άκυρη εξορία!”

The air trembled; space frayed like old silk.

Moon Owl opened a gaping hole in the ground, sized to the Chimera’s frame; that was her limit, a last arrow.