“Forget chasing that guy. I’ve got something else for you to do…”

Illusory Glass found a way to send Caris off, and her plan could breathe again. Keeping Caris close was a ticking bomb; better to burn her heat on harmless errands.

If her memory hadn’t frayed, four days from now the entire Twelfth District would lock down. The Order Keeper branch would sweep the parasites hiding in its alleys.

Yuan Dai, the district’s warden and secret blade, wouldn’t leave the hills soon. She’d only appear when a chimera from the Abyss of Beasts clawed its way out.

It was noon. She had four days and seven hours, grains in an hourglass that still gleamed. She didn’t plan to waste a single grain. Illusory Glass flagged an unlicensed cab, peeled out the New Year lucky money her grandma and the Moon Owl had stashed for her, and headed for the hills.

Even if it wasn’t the first time she spent that money on her own, guilt still pinched like a needle, and her heart tightened like a knot.

“Time’s short! Step on it!”

She patted her slightly rounded cheeks, rallied herself, and drew on the lessons stacked by past loops. She focused her power to a needlepoint. The threshold from First Symphony to Cantata Two had long stood within reach.

Darkness far off unfurled a single beam, laying a silver road like moonlight on water. A heavy door waited at its end, wrapped in rusted chains. Illusory Glass surged through the dark and stood at the door. She lifted a pale, small hand and touched it.

The surrounding dark shattered like snowflakes in wind. She opened her eyes again. The cab bumped to the edge of the hills. Silver light pooled in her gaze as she bolted from the car like an arrow.

The driver watched the girl in his mirror. She looked too young to plunge into mountains, a lamb walking into wolves. He almost thought she’d been taken by Monsters. Then he caught the silver, Mana-lit eyes and relaxed, finger slipping to his comm switch like a shadow.

Not possessed, then. She was the kind who hunted the Monsters.

Illusory Glass hit the foothills and began to cut a path. Mana shaped into a thin Blade, and shrubs fell like grass before a scythe. Her goal was the dojo on the ridge, Yuan Dai’s seat.

Less than an hour in, her Mana ran dry, and her body scraped the bottom. This young vessel carried too little Mana and muscle. Give her two years, and this climb wouldn’t even sting.

But this state was exactly what she needed. When body and Mana bottomed out together, the unbowed will inside would turn like a Key and crack the door.

She climbed, step by stubborn step. Chains around the door split with hairline cracks. Pure Mana leaked from behind it, and filled every cell like rain soaking dust. Her strength and Mana began to return in slow, tender swells.

Each step upward came with a familiar breaking, like old ice giving way. Links snapped one by one, and the world behind the door opened without veils.

She stepped into Cantata Two again. Within a few breaths she steadied the surging power, doubling and redoubling, with no backlash. She’d reached this plane before; familiarity fit like a worn glove.

The rest of the climb was easy as wind. She took to the air with flight magic, and reached the summit in minutes. The instant her feet touched the temple’s stone, Yuan Dai’s gentle voice threaded into her ear like warm tea.

“I remember you’re the Moon Owl’s kid, right? What brings you here?”

At the center of the dojo, Yuan Dai opened her eyes and let the translucent armor fade like mist. Pale pink irises glowed as she studied the little guest from far away.

This little guest was unforgettable—snow-white hair, porcelain skin, glass-bright eyes. Years ago, she had held her once. A pity…

Yuan Dai had watched her since the moment she started up the slope. From First Symphony to Cantata Two—what she saw clearest was the girl’s iron in the heart. The door’s surface-blocks were nothing to her; she shattered them like brittle salt.

Now, meeting those glasslike eyes, Yuan Dai felt the steadiness underlaid with grief, and the wear carved by time’s knife.

“I came to ask you for something.”

Yuan Dai glanced around. This dojo was built in recent years. With her earth-aligned Mana, she’d already sounded the nearby hills and the ground beneath before building. She didn’t know what treasure here could warrant this climb.

Then she seemed to understand, and her gaze returned to Illusory Glass.

“You want my strength?”

“Yes. Miss Yuan Dai, I want a small share of your power. What’s coming is a war, no doubt. You, at Cantata Three, will be trapped inside it. With your strength, I’ll cut a new road. I promise…”

Yuan Dai didn’t wholly believe her. She wore Illusory Glass’s face, but her inside didn’t match her looks. Who knew what lived within.

“Don’t worry. I am Illusory Glass. Soon, a worm will come that restrains you. It’ll take two veteran Cantata Three to bring it down. I know you still doubt me. But please consider.”

She knew she couldn’t scrub away Yuan Dai’s doubts. Time-type Magic Maidens were rare, so rare only old texts whispered of them. Rarer still one like Illusory Glass, who could return by anchors.

“I know you won’t believe me. You’ll see. A rift will open right above Jiuqiong University. Please evacuate the students early.”

As before, Yuan Dai didn’t lend her power. But the last warning had armed her for the worm-type Cantata Three. That should let the Moon Owl and her handle it lighter.

Illusory Glass went down the mountain. The unlicensed cab had just pulled in. She named a price no man could refuse, and had him swing back to the lonely foothills after a few fares.

“Yongning Road.”

The driver chatted about weather and soccer, his words like pebbles skipping on a pond. Illusory Glass kept silent. Her glassy, cold eyes watched his hands on the wheel, winter still. Only after a long drift did she speak.

“Take me to your headquarters. Can you?”

Time welled up and wrapped the car like resin. The whole vehicle froze, a black-and-white still against living color. A Blade of Mana pressed under the driver’s jaw.

His route had already drifted off the map, away from Yongning Road. She’d expected that; the game moved as she’d seen it before. She already knew he was rotten, a dog who bullied the soft and feared the hard.

In earlier loops, she’d met him. A First Symphony cyborg who kidnapped kids and trafficked organs. He used this taxi to ferry lone riders to a border slaughterhouse. Before missiles scrubbed the Twelfth District, he’d slipped across, and got nailed at the Eleventh District line.

His boss was Cantata Two. He had plenty of hands, few with bite. This driver was one of them. Now that she stood in Cantata Two, he was no problem.

“You… weren’t you just First Symphony? How are you Cantata Two!”

The last time she left, he’d pinged the boss. A First Symphony at her age was a jewel among jewels. If they bagged her, she’d fetch a fortune. They’d smuggled Magic Maidens before, though the risk bit like steel.

“No data on her. At that age, she’s likely a fresh First Symphony. Don’t overthink it. I’ve been in those hills. There’s nothing there but the odd rift. Probably a fledgling Order Keeper on assignment.”

The boss’s words filled his lungs with courage. Greed drowned the warning bells and painted everything gold.

Illusory Glass’s sudden strength tore his world in half. He didn’t even grip his dagger before both hands hung in air.

Not hung—slowed. His body thickened like syrup. He could move, but every motion crawled. The drag spread from arms to chest, to legs. His eyes saw the world whirl fast. His thoughts sank like stones.

Sluggish Blood pooled in his veins. Vessels bulged, then burst. Along the seams of his augmented shoulders, red seeped with sparks, dripping onto leather seats with soft, cruel taps.

She cleared away anything that could bite. Then she released the temporal drag.

“Now. Take me.”

The driver stared at the white-haired girl in the mirror, a frost specter seated perfectly center, her face blank as snow. He knew a twitch of her finger could end him.

This wasn’t a teenage girl. This was a devil in white.

“O-okay…”

He shifted, turned, and floored it toward the base. In his chest, a prayer throbbed that the boys back home could kill this white devil.

Ten-odd minutes later, they halted at a derelict factory by the border. Several men from the underground ring stood guard. The driver sprinted toward them and opened his mouth. His body hit a sudden mire. Illusory Glass flicked a tiny knife and nicked his temple.

She snapped her fingers—Time, accelerate. Triple.

Blood arced through the air like a crimson comet and painted the windows. Illusory Glass froze the spray flying toward her. Her white dress stayed snow-pure.

She pushed the door and stepped out, strolling toward two men raising guns. Their fingers crawled on the triggers like ants in tar. In that instant, silver Mana wrapped her calves like ribbons. At each ribbon’s end, twin Mana daggers bloomed—throats opened in a heartbeat.