Caution flickered across Night Frost’s eyes. A sheath of Mana rose over her skin, a shimmering armor that kept the heat at bay. Her Crimson Gold Flame surged like a tide, eager to swallow that inferior blaze whole.

The hot fire curled tongues of flame. Crackle-crackle, sharp pops snapped like dry bamboo. Sparks collided and bloomed, bright embers pricking the vast dark.

Night Frost tightened her fists. Crimson Gold Mana lacquered her knuckles. She plunged through the fire, punching that eel-slick hide. The monster flew back, then staggered upright, eyes hollow and dead.

A char-black fist mark branded its face. Fire caught its bristled fur, hard strands curling like burnt reeds, yet the creature didn’t care.

Night Frost glanced at her right hand. That punch felt like hitting cotton, not flesh. The monster’s body was light, without the weight of blood and meat.

By firelight, she finally made out its shape—a deer’s silhouette, yet the surface gleamed slick as a mudfish. Skin of dark cyan, smooth scales like wet stone. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t tell deer from fish.

Its lower half lacked scales. Four legs were caked in heavy earth, and beneath that dirt something like molten magma churned. Wherever those hooves pressed, flames raced along the dry brush.

Black tubes laced its torso and sank into its throat. It spat fire through them. The flames lacked her purity, but each blast struck with brutal force.

Night Frost had never seen such a thing. A gleam of metal at its chest told her—this wasn’t born in the wild. It walked out of a lab.

The body came from Cantata Two’s bull-type beast. The head was a native mutant eel of the First Symphony. The antlers and parts of the deer frame looked almost normal. The flame-guiding tail seemed taken from the First Symphony’s fire fox.

It didn’t fit normal tiers. Night Frost’s senses said the core Magic Stone was First Symphony, yet its overall strength matched Cantata Two, on par with her.

Maybe it wasn’t as strong as Night Frost, but its patchwork traits stitched a bridge across the gap.

Its flames could incinerate the weaker First Symphony. Smooth scales and pliant flesh shed and softened damage. If it had a weakness, it was the chest pipes feeding those flames.

But that metal wasn’t common stock. Her fire didn’t melt it at all. It had to be some rare fireproof alloy, built to carry another flame’s fury.

Night Frost didn’t dare relax. She blinked behind the monster, her shadow vanishing as a stripe of Crimson Gold Flame speared toward the back of its head.

The monster reacted instantly. The moment her flame bloomed, it leaned forward, forelimbs pumping fire through the chest pipes.

Its slick head rotated a full one-eighty. A near-solid wall of fire rose, a blazing barricade before it.

Night Frost’s fire slammed into the wall. Heat skated past its ear, singeing the edge. A few charred scales drifted down like black leaves.

Her target wasn’t the body, but the metal conduits. The monster seemed dull, yet it calculated fast. In a blink, it read her angle and raised the wall, blunting most of her strike.

Wall and flame collided. The barrier shivered like a drum skin under hail. A wall that wide wouldn’t endure long. Break it, and the pipes were exposed.

The monster backed two steps. Its scales clinked together, shrill as clashing blades.

The fire wall finally fell to the Crimson Gold Flame. It burst in a bloom of light. Night Frost seized the opening and leapt. Flame gathered at her fingertip, stretching into a Spear. She drove for the pipes—then the slick neck dropped.

Sriiip—

The Spear scraped hard, smooth scale. The Crimson Gold tip baked what it touched to black, then slid in and pierced deep.

Crimson Gold Flame poured inside. Night Frost hammered the metal conduit with her Mana-coated right fist. The pipe bent; flame leaked through the seam and lit the monster’s whole body.

Flame pressed against flame inside the beast. Night Frost sensed the swell and moved to retreat from the coming blast—when the strange, pain-blind monster lifted a forefoot, shoved off her jump, and planted weight onto her shoulder.

Even with the pipes broken, plenty of flame remained in its body. Heat flowed from its legs into the ground. The broad fox tail swayed. Nearby fires drew to that tail, weaving into a Crimson prison that wrapped them both.

It wants mutual destruction.

Crimson Gold Flame surged from Night Frost’s core. She guided the hungry fire away with Mana, then quickly shaped another Spear and stabbed the flame-forged cage.

The spear punched through the dungeon with ease. Moon-dark poured through the gap like cool water. Red light flooded back, swallowing night again.

“Close!”

She pried the cage wide. The hole was just big enough.

Night Frost sprang out. With Mana, she stepped on empty air, slapped the ground with her palm, and rattled the monster off-balance as she slid back.

Boom—thunder rolled. Night Frost flickered into view midair, stumbled, and bright Blood touched her lip. She looked a little worn.

The blast still came. She’d been a step slow and the shockwave caught her. Lucky—the wound wasn’t deep. She only needed a moment to steady her tangled Mana.

The monster wasn’t so lucky. It writhed once, then curled into a knot amid the flames. Limbs jerked. A low wail seeped out.

The central pipe lay twisted by her punches. Scattered fire roasted its unguarded skin. The air smelled faintly of grilled fish.

Its antlers were broken. The fish head was pierced. Scales and fur lay ruined everywhere. Its inner Magic Stone powdered itself from overwork.

She cut open the stomach. Inside lay mechanical guts, racks of First Symphony Magic Stones, and heaps of spent stone powder.

When one stone burned out, the rig could swap quickly and feed the beast fresh energy. Pity—the fire charred that whole module. If Blade got it, he could pull secrets from its bones.

She detached the module and slid it into her spatial box. She pinched her nose, eyed the charred corpse, and shoved that in as well.

This monster was a lab-made product. Source unknown. Maybe an enemy sent it. She’d have to confer with Blade.

She reported to Blade. He acknowledged on the line, told her to finish Chen Xiaoyin’s matter, then bring the monster back for dissection and answers.

After, Night Frost found the outpost member she’d saved. Kindly, she called in the Magic Maiden who’d screened her earlier, asked them to care for him. If possible, he needed counseling; he hadn’t recovered.

Night Frost hadn’t forgotten her task. She wrapped things up, then headed for the outer ring of the border. Chen Xiaoyin’s situation still hadn’t moved.

She dialed Chen Xiaoyin’s comm. Chen’s voice came through. They set a meeting spot. Once Night Frost recovered a bit, she took the road again.

The farther she walked, the flatter it grew—and the more barren.

A few intact buildings remained. They served as nests for Monsters and as temporary posts for border groups.

The outer ring had gathered many border outfits, but the Twelfth District’s Order Keeper blocked them all.

After speaking with Night Frost, Chen Xiaoyin and her team sat on hard stone stools. Their eyes turned to a camp not far off, owned by the group stopping them.

The tents were thrown up in haste, small and clipped. By a leaping bonfire sat a flax-haired child, a young man beside him. They talked in quiet tones.

Days of watching taught Chen that those two had a decent bond. Unlike other border members, they carried no blood-scent. They didn’t seem to have killed.

She didn’t judge the others. Their blood-reek was heavy. Scars screamed years in the border. The count of lives on their hands was beyond tally.

“They hoist the Twelfth District’s banner of injustice and push forward that young man and the child. It’s shameful, and we can’t move them.”

In Chen Xiaoyin’s eyes, the pair was forced into this.

She glanced back. Even these scattered border groups had formed fragile alliances here.

The strongest in the camp was a Cantata Two cyborg. Alone, Chen could handle him. But there were two other Cantata Two in this small place. If she struck first, they wouldn’t sit still. The label of injustice would stick to them.

Their weapons were advanced and plentiful. With three First Symphony and one Cantata Two on her side, breaking out would cost dearly.

If a fight started, Chen Xiaoyin wouldn’t flinch. Their losses wouldn’t be smaller than hers.

But they carried the Twelfth District’s name. Starting a fight here wasn’t realistic.