“Today, the Twelfth District is still at peace...”

The abandoned broadcast screen shattered under flying rubble, sparks skittering like fireflies, then died.

Moon Owl’s frail body hurled into the storm, a swallow into a typhoon; endless gravel sliced her skin like knives. Blood streaked her hands as she seized the students’ arms. The rift behind her tore wider, and Moon Owl toppled back with them into the dark.

Concrete blocks slammed down. Dust rose like smoke from a kiln, then the gale ripped it clean.

Lujin Lushi staggered out of the wind wall, breath snagging, eyes fixed on the colossus at the storm’s eye. The purple rift coiled power again, ready to birth a fiercer cyclone than before.

The weight of Chapter Three pressed down without mercy. The brittle cement ground cracked into spiderwebs, a thousand thin lines racing outward.

The slit Moon Owl had torn in space knitted shut. She was hurt badly; for a while, the battlefield would be missing Moon Owl’s shadow.

“Do we take it on?”

The Rosefire Pistol sighted the writhing bug overhead. The Chapter Three Monster’s slick, heavy carapace slammed against itself, screeching. Its scything fore and hind legs clashed, sparks flaring like meteors.

“Yeah—but not now.”

Lu Jin and Lu Shi looked worse than they sounded. Charge now, and they wouldn’t even block a single blow. Their Mana ran dry; their bodies screamed fatigue. Every ache said the same thing: you can’t keep fighting.

“Withdraw?”

Lu Shi glanced at Lu Jin. Both were spent, but Lu Jin looked worse. She’d never had much Mana; that last support must’ve wrung her dry.

“Don’t talk nonsense, sis. Can we even retreat?”

Lu Jin pulled a few Magic Stones from the metal case at her waist, split them with Lu Shi. They crushed the stones, drew in the clean Mana, and steadied their shaking frames. One in black, one in white, they laced their fingers, sharing palm-warmth and matching resolve.

“Point taken.”

“Count me in!”

Zhao Qingsnow’s place sat close to Jiuqiong University. Dawnlight had been lucky—no strong Monsters on the way—and slipped onto campus. Lu Shi didn’t ask about Zhao Qingsnow. Dawnlight showing up was help enough.

“Move out...”

None of the three believed they could win. Their goal was simple—stall it. Stall until Chapter Three descended. Stall until HQ sent backup.

Then humanity’s Chapter Three would gather, and taking it down would be easy.

They didn’t know they had no backup at all.

Through the rift, the Warden of the Twelfth District watched in silence. She sighed. She’d already heard it from Blade: no reinforcements.

HQ was snagged by something, or the comms were smothered by an unknown force. Even when she wove a Mana signature for help, it sank without a trace. Only the sky’s fracturing and the Monsters’ shrieks answered.

The Ninth and Eleventh Districts, closest to the Twelfth, were under attack too. Flying there for support would be too late—and who knew what else the puppeteer had prepared? If she fell, or left and failed to return in time, the Twelfth District would be doomed.

“Almost.”

The rift before the Warden healed fast. A pitch-black figure spilled out with a few others, hit the ground hard.

“Didn’t disgrace the mission...”

Moon Owl, drenched in Blood, collapsed. Her Magic Armor faded like frost in sun. She murmured a few words and passed out.

Behind her lay the last students. The power the Warden had granted Moon Owl was spent. She couldn’t hold the rift, and the spatial tremors knocked them unconscious.

Crack... crack.

That frail breaking sound was heard only by Chapter Three and those it marked. To gods it was gospel; to Magic Maidens it was a shackle breaking—a sign one of them neared Chapter Three. Hearing it, the Warden’s stern face finally thawed into a smile.

The Twelfth District had successors.

Moon Owl couldn’t break that layer now. Give her a few years, and she’d reach Chapter Three. Barring surprises, she’d be the youngest space-type Chapter Three in history.

She’d had her doubts. Now, with such a successor, she could stop holding back. She would offer everything to halt this Chapter Three.

Every cell in the Warden’s body drank Mana from air and Magic Stone, swelling to saturation. The stones at her waist groaned, overfilled by the surge.

She stepped onto the elevator and became a powder-white streak, plunging toward Jiuqiong University. That light lanced through the deep-violet Abyssal Rift, as if to cleave it from the middle.

Minutes later, a powder-white giant rose like a mountain. Thick gauntlets gripped a heavy, razor-edged blade buried in the earth, and hewed straight into the bug’s iron shell.

Lingchen Yao turned toward Jiuqiong University. Abyssal Aura and Mana collided like storm fronts, and the shock rolled across the Twelfth District. Impossible to miss.

After roughly two hours’ rest, his Mana had crawled back to normal. As long as he didn’t go past his limits, he’d be fine.

When the Chapter Three above Jiuqiong University tore free of the Abyssal Rift and landed on Twelfth District soil, the Monsters rampaging on campus and downtown were driven toward the outskirts. Yunyang Orphanage, more than ten kilometers away, became a frontline in the storm.

And that wasn’t all.

The border forces had fallen. A flood of Monsters poured into the Twelfth District. The instant they set claw on its soil, the frenzy left their eyes. But beneath Chapter Three’s dreadful pressure, they broke again into chaos.

So most Monsters gathered on the fringes. Yunyang Orphanage sat in that tide like a leaf on storm seas—frail, trembling.

One good thing: Chen Xiaoyin reached Yunyang Orphanage and met up with Qianchun and Hao Wenqian. With Chen Xiaoyin and Lingchen Yao, two Cantata Two fighters, the orphanage was—temporarily—safe.

Inside, Director Hao woke from illness. The purple sky outside was gaudy and lethal, and far away a powder-white figure grappled the Chapter Three, locked like wrestling dragons.

The blade couldn’t bite through the Monster’s shell. The bug couldn’t crack the pure-white armor while the unsealing held. Once it ended, humanity would lose.

She saw it: countless Monsters flooding the street, yet not a single one crossed the orphanage line. A pale-blue, diamond lattice sealed the grounds tight, a glass bell in a hurricane.

Director Hao braced on her cane. A few children slept nearby. Age stole names, but she still recalled theirs—names she’d given them.

At their center sat a short-haired girl with black hair tipped teal—Qianchun. She watched Director Hao quietly. The breeze around her lapped like a mother’s hand, cradling the sleeping kids.

“I’ll head out after this. Please look after them, Director...”

“You’re Little Yao’s friend, aren’t you?”

Qianchun nodded.

Director Hao turned away, hobbling back to her room. When she returned, an old wooden box lay in her hands.

“Eleven years ago, a Magic Maiden gave me this. She brought the box—and Little Yao. She said nothing. Left me a lot of money, told me to look after them.”

The dusty box opened slow. Inside, nothing—just a thick red sponge.

Director Hao lifted it. At the bottom lay a rust-stained Key, ancient, yet brimming with profound Mana.

“I don’t know what it does. I’m no Magic Maiden. But she said it can save a life at a critical moment, maybe two. I think now’s the time. I can’t give it to Yao, so I’ll give it to his friend. Wenqian’s not reliable—too hot-blooded.”

Qianchun thought Hao Wenqian’s temperament was fine, just lively. If there was a personality problem, it was Lingchen Yao’s—after he transformed.

Rumble—

The whole orphanage shook. Old walls shed a layer of lime like snow. The sleeping children woke in a chorus of wails, fear ringing like bells.

Outside, a fat, round, azure bug slammed the orphanage’s warding shield. It was the quake’s culprit—and strong. Likely Cantata Two.

“Good thing I reinforced it.”

Night Frost landed light. Flames clung to the azure bug’s shell, burning in silence. With Magic Stones she’d hunted, she’d laid a ward around the orphanage. She was glad she’d made the right call.

Hao Wenqian stood behind Night Frost. Working with her felt wrong in the bones—the higher-ups called that woman an enemy.

Chen Xiaoyin also balked, but not as much. First, Night Frost had saved her and helped her step into Cantata Two. Second, a strange familiarity tugged at her heart. She felt she’d met Night Frost before.

That thread of familiarity made it impossible to hate her.

Right now, they had no choice. Behind them stood an old director, and dozens of children barely five or six.

Qianchun tucked the Key from Director Hao close, sprinted through the security door. Clear wind braided through the alley, thinning into wind blades, and carved into the Monster-choked street.

Riding those blades, Hao Wenqian clenched her five fingers and slammed into a wound the wind had opened. In an instant, a Monster below the Cantatas burst into Blood and meat.