The hole leading to Aklatia breathed the iron tang of Blood. A few furtive figures dropped to the scorched ground after Qiu Sheng, Lu Jin, and Lu Shi left.

The earth was charcoaled by thunder, smoking with a burnt, bitter scent. They vaulted the blackened crust and touched the still-wet Blood with fingertips, then tasted it.

The leader nodded, calm as night surf on stone. No issues. He signaled, and his people tracked Lu Jin and Lu Shi’s trail like wolves in mist.

“How do we handle this thing?”

Blade stared at the huge corpse of the Void Wanderer. The flesh was exquisite, yet no ordinary hand could dress it. In the Twelfth District, most Magic Maidens who could handle it didn’t cook.

You could keep it long, let the meat loosen like rain-softened clay. Yet the original savor would bleed away. Any soul who loved food would refuse that. This catch was rare as snow in midsummer. Letting value drip off felt wasteful.

“Miss Blade, the special lockup has a problem!”

The guard slammed the door open. He wore security gear, eyes jammed full of worry. He watched over special mortals. He had some skill. They’d poached him from New Aklatia.

“It’s Blood!”

Blade’s heartbeat spiked. The word Blood pulled up the memory of Caris turning to red mist. Before she dissolved, she muttered things Blade didn’t understand. Blade kept feeling there were two souls living in Caris, and one was someone she knew.

That identity was easy to guess. No one spoke it. No one said the name. That familiar soul seemed to hold Illusory Glass’s life together. Caris burst into Blood-mist, then gathered back over time.

When she reformed, Caris fell into a coma. Maybe that forced exit tore her soul or mind. The Blood Clan had a special mist-form technique. So the Twelfth District used special vessels to lock up comatose Caris.

Now the special prison was acting wrong. It smelled of Blood. High chance Caris’s cell had issues. Blade recalled Dawnlight and the just-returned Lu Jin and Lu Shi. She set to go with the three to the special lockup.

Before that, Blade pulled the prison cameras. The feed went ink-black. Something odd blocked the lens.

The special lockup was small, a standalone cell dusted with Obsidian Stone powder. It suppressed Abyssal Aura and Mana. They had stripped all Mana and Abyssal Aura there. They added a culture dish system to choke Caris’s mist ability to death. In theory, Caris couldn’t escape.

When they reached the Obsidian Stone chamber, Blood hit their noses like rust storming a well. Crimson pools seeped through the door seams, spreading wider, spreading more, until the floor was a carpet of red.

The three snapped on their Magic Armor. Blade, afraid of getting in the way, set up a helper cam and slipped far back.

On Blade’s cue, they unsealed the heavy Obsidian Stone door. A dense stench of Blood surged out. A slim black shadow darted through the crack. Lu Shi’s shadow snared it to the floor.

Lu Shi moved like a hawk in a headwind. All eyes fell on the pinned shape. It was just a shadow woven from Blood. Inside it was nothing but the hush of air.

“No. It’s Blood!”

Lu Jin caught the beat. The Rosefire Pistol barked. Sparks skittered and bit the ground, leaving shallow scars. The floor’s Blood didn’t stir. Her bullets couldn’t touch her.

Dawnlight spread a screen of light before them. A Holy Lance of compact Mana fell from above. The Blade in Lu Shi’s palm called nearby darkness like midnight rain.

Pure Mana struck the floor’s Blood. The quiet pool rippled, then shrieked. The cry wasn’t human. It was more Monster—noisy, razor-edged, fear scraping the bones.

Blood rose like an upside-down waterfall, streaming from ground to sky. From that foul, black flood, a pair of talons wrapped in shadow thrust through. Then a massive head pushed out, big enough to crack the Twelfth District wide open.

It flailed its claws, trying to make space—stone to gravel, sky to torn cloth. It didn’t seem able to fully crawl out of the Bloodfall.

The three Magic Maidens wouldn’t wait for a full breach. If it got through, the Twelfth District would be done. They drew their signature arts and struck into the Blood.

The creature was weaker than it looked. Lu Shi shattered its claw with one cut, a night wind inside steel. Lu Jin bored a hole through its skull, crimson spraying like pomegranate seeds. Holy light shoved the monster back, a tide of dawn sweeping wreckage.

Yet the nightmare was the scarlet waterfall. It ignored their assault. No matter the strike, it stayed, a wound that wouldn’t close.

The only fix was Moon Owl, mistress of space, to move it elsewhere. But first they had to ask—where was Caris?

If Caris hid inside the Bloodfall, Moon Owl’s transfer would let her flee. If she wasn’t, then she was already gone. How had she slipped out?

Until that got decided, Moon Owl couldn’t act.

The Bloodfall mirrored monsters again, the red shadow looming. It wasn’t strong, yet its pressure cut deep. Its voice mixed many species, a chorus of screeches battering their minds.

Good thing the three were no pushovers. They could hold for a while. Blade refused to waste time on this thing.

“Caris’s location unknown. If she’s inside the fall, Moon Owl moves it into a sealed space. If she isn’t, she’s gone already. I don’t know how…”

But where would Blade find a sealed space that big?

“It’s fine. Leave it to me.”

Moon Owl had watched for long minutes. When Blade decided, she stepped first. She told Blade not to worry about the follow-up. She had the perfect place to dump a Bloodfall.

She cut space open and appeared before the cell’s trio. She flicked her hand. A long, narrow rift tore upward, white Mana pulling it like silk. The slit gulped the Bloodfall almost without effort, a whale drinking rain.

No accidents. Everything went smooth.

Moon Owl sealed the breach with a raised palm. She traded a few rare words with Lu Shi and the others, then returned to her high perch.

Seeing Moon Owl rush away, Lu Shi sighed. As the Twelfth District’s warden, Moon Owl had no luxury to leave, not even for a breath.

It was her duty. But the District’s state allowed no slack. The previous warden, Yuan Dai, would wander when things were quiet. Moon Owl couldn’t.

“She chose to be the wall guarding the Twelfth District, holding up its sky. Without Chapter Three, the Twelfth District would have become a hollow shell like the Twenty-Second.”

The Twenty-Second never had Chapter Three at its founding. It’s split by “new” and “old.” It’s a battlefield, ugly as winter famine. Blade had never seen worse.

Moon Owl refused to let the Twelfth District turn to war and castle, a flag for factions. So she sat the high seat, became the warden, carrying the faith of the old warden and all its people.

When the Bloodfall first rose, Moon Owl had already wanted to act. She saw everything in the Twelfth District. But Moon Owl was seen in return, an eye in the sky reflected in a thousand mirrors.

Blade exhaled. She had to work harder. Finish the District’s defenses sooner. Otherwise Moon Owl must keep this stance forever.

“Caris… where did you go…”

Blade returned to her office. The Bloodfall replayed in her mind like rain on stone. Her gut said the Bloodfall wasn’t Caris.

Night fell. Clots of Blood-mist drifted above the Twelfth District’s headquarters, borne southeast on a cool wind. On a survivor camp’s high tower, they gathered into a shape.

Figures stood in black cloaks, moonlight painting their faces a pale without Blood. One stretched a thin hand. A loose cloud of Blood-mist in his palm firmed and turned.

The mist shaped a maiden’s lithe silhouette. Moonlight glazed her fair skin in silver. Her delicate body, exposed to air, was veiled by lingering mist.

She bore wings like a bat, yet wider than church doors. They stirred the void, holding her aloft in quiet balance.

“Caris… return… Caris.”

The pale hand beneath Caris’s bare feet trembled as he called. The Blood-mist rippled again. It formed her bright scarlet eyes. It knit into a dress of gauze. Under the moon, it grew stranger.

In his steady calling, Caris’s mind cleared. She looked at him, awkward as a fawn in a river. Then she understood. Her Blood Clan had sent rescuers.

“I failed… caught by a dark hand.”

The man before Caris nodded. Silence spread like frost. Then he spoke.

“You’re a talent of the Fourth Blood Clan, but your sealed strength blunts your edge. This place has power. Your loss isn’t unjust.”

“When I pulled you out, I swapped places with the Blood Fiend in time. If I’d been slower, my Blood-escape would’ve been read. Likely by a local called Chapter Three… no, by one of the stronger among them. She erased the Blood Fiend in a breath.”

He paused. Crimson mist bulged from his wide sleeve, staining the moon an ill red.

“When you’re unsealed, we’ll design it together. We’ll take her down.”