Corpses carpeted the border battlefield, and smoke crawled like damp fog. Inside the Twelfth District, towers toppled and jagged ruins littered every street. A week ago it was gridlocked traffic, a tide of people; today, the view was pure desolation, a barren steppe beyond the familiar line.

Now and then, a few Magic Maidens flagged down excavators that the shelling hadn’t chewed, or worked with raw mana, steel mouths gnawing stone, fishing for shelter hatches or for bodies.

The Twelfth District beat the Monsters, but paid a blood-price. Nearly eighty percent of downtown lay broken. Over two thousand were dead, and the count still climbed. More than forty from [First Symphony] were lost, and the units sent to the border were almost wiped out.

Without five or six years, the Twelfth District won’t get its breath back; its lungs are full of dust.

Fatigue weighed first, then duty. Blade stood on a rock and tallied the names of the fallen. When Yuan Dai is gone, it’s still her job to log and report; tight columns of cramped letters swarmed her vision, headache in every line. Every department was short-handed, so she stepped in herself.

Right now, within the Order Keeper roster, only four Magic Maidens at [First Symphony] or above remained in the Twelfth. The core fighting strength hadn’t been cut, but one thing stayed uncertain—Yuan Dai’s trail.

Blade had turned Jiuqiong University upside down, but Yuan Dai’s shadow never appeared.

Worry rose first, then reason. From Moon Owl’s account after she woke, Yuan Dai had broken her seals four times in a row. In Magic Maiden history, that was unheard of.

The District archives wrote it clearly: use unsealing multiple times, and you pay a price. But the price was unnamed. Blade couldn’t know what Yuan Dai would pay, and it likely tied to her disappearance.

The attack had been tailored. Monsters poured into the Twelfth in waves. The satellite link went dead. After Yuan Dai and Moon Owl killed the [Cantata Three] monster, artillery swept the District again, a second scouring fire.

It was the Twelfth District’s sorrow, a lament with no chorus.

Thankfully, the Order Keeper branch’s facilities were mostly intact. Moon Owl and other Magic Maidens from the orphanage had been moved there for treatment. Once they recovered, the manpower pinch would ease.

The Magic Maiden branch in the Twelfth was kept secret. Outside the core, few knew the branch lay near the shattered border.

Usually, Magic Maidens dropped info into a shell company’s office computer that Blade had registered in advance. That office sat at the very center of the Twelfth, beside the six statues of dragon-slaying heroes.

That computer relayed to the backup units of every core member, masking the shell as the Twelfth’s Order Keeper branch.

Why build a faux branch? Because before the Black Dragon invasion, the Twelfth had weathered intrusions, data theft, and petty raids—some from underground outfits, some from neighbors who called themselves colleagues.

Across the Districts, Magic Maidens were never of one heart. Once Magic Maidens were made public, factions split and names hardened.

The two big camps were called the New Faction and the Old Faction. The Twelfth sat with the New. Even counting by toes, you could guess who wanted the Twelfth dead.

Moments ago, Blade checked that shell company. No surprise—it was wrecked. The underground space had been flattened by gold-element mana. The enemy didn’t find the real branch and raged in blind frustration.

They had outfoxed that think tank in some ways, yet Blade couldn't smile. Victory tastes thin when ash fills the mouth.

If they dared touch the Twelfth, where did their confidence come from? Was it that [Cantata Three] in the sky, the one who wore the face of the Magic Maiden who once saved the District?

Blade was sure it wasn’t one of the saviors from the Black Dragon’s siege. She had watched that girl cremated, had watched the ashes carried to a cemetery in the Twelfth.

Or had the Seeker advanced their research, fielding weapons beyond a Magic Maiden’s reach?

Her thoughts knotted; every thread led to thorns.

So Blade wouldn’t call back all of the Twelfth’s core strength. Leave Moon Owl of [Cantata Three], Lujin Lushi and Dawnlight of [Cantata Two]. As for Zhao Qingsnow—there was another plan. Blade would have her trail the unknown [Cantata Two] inside the Twelfth.

Lujin Lushi and the others were still standing for one reason—someone had thrown them into a shelter. The people inside hadn’t seen the savior’s face; they only remembered eyes, crimson as fresh blood.

And it wasn’t just the unknown [Cantata Two]. There was the girl called Night Frost.

Three days ago, she fought the unknown [Cantata Three] in the sky, and she borrowed a strength that felt like the Black Dragon’s shadow.

On the second morning after the war, they found her in a temporary ward set up at Jiuqiong University. The report went straight to the District’s temporary lead—Blade.

She ordered strict watch on Night Frost, then hit a wall. Night Frost’s origins were a fog. She had pinned a [Cantata Three] and several [Cantata Two], saved the District’s core, and then fell into deep coma. With that merit—and that mystery—there was no easy move. They shelved her—for now.

Night Frost’s knot would need cutting sooner or later.

The Magic Maiden named Qianchun who came with Night Frost carried the crime of parricide like a chain. Because of the disaster, Blade pressed that charge down. Merit offset guilt; for now, Qianchun could move freely in the Twelfth without a warrant on her back.

For the moment, rebuilding the Twelfth rose above all. Commerce plans, funding approvals, labor shifts, talent drain, monsters on an unfortified border, refugees with no roofs, homes without Order—every trouble begged a line in the ledger.

On funding approval, worry showed on Blade’s face like a bruise. If they already knew who wanted the Twelfth ruined, then the money would be hard to pry loose.

If Warden Yuan Dai stood forth, maybe. But the Twelfth now lacked the capital to confront that crowd.

The Twelfth’s wrecked face would force the Twenty-Four Districts to reshuffle and choose new sides. The Twelfth had carried the banner of the New Faction once. After two disasters, its stride couldn’t match the era.

Then there was border defense. The Twelfth was leaderless. When Moon Owl recovered, that would ease, but for now, the edges would know no peace.

Blade pressed a heavy stroke onto the paper, then let out a long breath and drained the coffee bottle dry.

“Pass it down. Have the elder who lays arrays reinforce the ward’s defenses. We don’t lack Magic Stones. Watch Night Frost and the underground groups. If we can win them over, do it. And tell Moon Owl and the other [Cantata Two] to get into my channel…”

She lifted the bangs shadowing her eyes, showing deep dark circles. Black pupils held a faint haze, reflecting the Magic Maidens clawing at the stone pile in front of her.

“Makes you easy to find.”

A man in black pulled his hat brim low and in the ruins around the orphanage found a blood-stained Eye Orb lying asleep. A leather-gloved hand closed, and the orb nestled in his palm.

Maybe he’d lodged too fierce a desire into that sleeping sphere; hunger leaked through his gaze like steam.

The noise woke the Eye Orb. He forced his lid apart and took in the broken skyline. His memory sat where Night Frost fought the fox Monster; then a monster tide rolled in, and he barely escaped with his life.

Where was he now?

Cold grip bit the orb. No surprise—he was being held by someone rebuilt with mechanical prosthetics.

The guy had no sense of gentleness. That squeeze hurt. Prosthetics always carry that flaw; metal forgets that flesh bruises.

No. Focus.

He had to find a way to reach Night Frost. He trusted nobody else. And she still carried Aklatia’s crystal.

He didn’t know how the fox Monster knew Night Frost housed the Calamity Dragon’s heart. If someone knew, then Night Frost—and Aklatia’s technique—had been exposed.

The Calamity Dragon’s heart is priceless, a thing born in a [Myth] gate. A ladder to godhood, maybe. How could Magic Maidens not go mad?

But first: where was he going?

This wasn’t the orphanage. The ruin shapes didn’t match. Ahead lay a bare plain and a fallen lighthouse. In the trenches, bodies lay crooked and stiff.

The answer was obvious—this was the border.

“Oh, you’re awake. Doctor of Aklatia, I’m Lin from Rouge Rabbit. Just call me Lin, or Little Lin.”

The Eye Orb rolled once, the name tasting odd yet familiar. Strange name, some fame—probably a big outfit in the Second District.

“If I’m right, you’re a Second District outfit. What are you doing all the way in the Twelfth?”

He didn’t feel malice from the man. But that expectancy stank like spoiled wine. He didn’t plan to kill him—yet. So the Eye Orb could fish for info.

“We regret Aklatia’s fall,” Lin said, voice soft as velvet gloves. “When we heard you were alive, we rushed from the Second to invite you to join us.”

He lied. The road from the Second to the Twelfth is long; you don’t hear and fly. And how did he know the Doctor—the Eye Orb—still lived?

“Drop the act. Finding me wasn’t your mission, was it? Invitations need honesty.”

Years underground had honed the Eye Orb’s nose. That excuse was paper-thin. Lin had likely camped in the Twelfth for a while. With seven-tenths of the District ash, wouldn’t he need to report back?

Called out, Lin didn’t bristle. It was plain as daylight that he’d lied. His original aim wasn’t the Eye Orb. They’d planned to grow a branch in the Twelfth, but the plan died before it sprouted.

In the black market, Lin had heard a delicious rumor: the top experimental hand from that second-rate powerhouse, first-rate lab—Doctor—was still alive.

A first-rate researcher in genes and human cells, no worse than the top hundred in the Seeker’s tower.

Lin pried around these edges. While Night Frost fought the fox Monster in full focus, he overheard their talk and saw the Eye Orb crouched on her shoulder.

Words floated out—dragon heart, delicacy, experiments.

Dragon heart was easy. In recent decades, the invading dragons were either the Calamity Dragon or the Earth Dragon out of the Abyss. In their headquarters lab lay an Earth Dragon Heart, sleeping like a meteor.

It all pointed to the dragon birthed in the Abyss named [Myth], a creature of calamity and ruin.

That was a [Cantata Three] heart, life and power at the summit, maybe beyond. Six [Cantata Three] Magic Maidens had spent everything to kill it.

And this Eye Orb had fused that heart with human tissue, used unknown techniques, and forged a Magic Maiden who could wield dragon power—who at [First Symphony] could stand against [Cantata Two].

Give him time, and the work could be more perfect. Mass-producing Magic Maidens wasn’t pure fantasy. More crucial—this technique might mend the lord’s hidden ailment.

“Join Rouge Rabbit?” Lin asked at last, words light as dust.

The Eye Orb refused, fast and flat. Born of Aklatia, die of Aklatia; no other banner.

“Heh. I knew you wouldn’t be thrilled. Then a deal,” Lin said, thumb stroking the smooth sphere. “I’ll give you a lab, funding, and territory to rebuild Aklatia. You’ll create another Magic Maiden based on an Earth Dragon Heart. How about it?”

Lin squeezed the orb, gentle but firm. No killing intent—yet. But the deal wouldn’t fly. Night Frost’s birth was a miracle. More than that, it was Aklatia’s secret, a lock no outsider would ever open.

A technology that could tilt the scales of the conflict wasn’t worth a spoken promise of reconstruction.

And Eye Orb knew little about Rouge Rabbit; their profile stayed veiled like mist.

He only knew they were accomplished in human research, scalpel-bright and precise.

They weren’t on Aklatia’s level in that regard.

Yet their lab scale and equipment were a steel-and-glass forest, no worse than Aklatia’s.

They’d once extended an olive branch to Eye Orb, but his ship was already moored to Aklatia.

“Looks like I can’t slip the net anyway, can I? This, I need to talk to your boss myself. You don’t hold real authority, do you? Before that—could you take me someplace first?”

Eye Orb knew the trap had closed. Before he left, he meant to pass some files and items to Qianchun, like handing off a lantern before the night deepened.