Caris panted, eyes fixed on the Moon Owl; blood fountained from her forearm, and her Blood Scythe burned brighter, its coiling power cresting at a new peak.

“Don’t bet on it.”

Blood surged at the Moon Owl from all sides; she tore the air like silk and slipped into a spatial rift. Caris went pale, but her aim was met.

This cramped pocket was flooded with Caris’s blood. Moon Owl opened a mouth in space to drain it into the void, and that opening was Caris’s true target.

Hope flickered like a guttering candle: get out here, call the Prince, and Moon Owl won’t match him. Two on one, they win; then the Magic Maidens won’t matter.

Her scythe chopped down and plunged into the rift, ripping a neat slit. Caris dissolved into blood-mist and seeped through like smoke.

The blood left in Moon Owl’s pocket space gathered into Caris’s form as she fled. Moon Owl’s Blade sank into the “Caris,” who thrashed.

Blood at the counterfeit’s belly cinched like a rope around Moon Owl’s wrist, and Abyssal Aura climbed the blood like sparks riding gasoline.

The pocket detonated, a pressure cooker bursting inside the narrow space.

Caris, free and breathless, hacked with everything she had, hunting thin places in the air and prying open an Abyssal Rift.

If she reached the space near the Abyss, or dove straight in, she could cry out to the Prince like a lone bird calling a storm.

But Caris wasn’t the Moon Owl. Moon Owl carved rifts quickly with little cost; every swing from Caris dimmed her scythe like a fading ember.

Moon Owl wiped blood from her face; magic swept her Magic Armor clean. She glanced at the cut on her arm; in seconds, skin knit like frost sealing glass.

Caris moved fast—swap the body, tear the rift, bait the strike, bind with blood, then set off what she left behind. Clean and cruel.

Moon Owl tore free in time and took only shallow wounds.

“You won’t escape.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the residue of spatial magic clinging to Caris like wet ash, feeling her sprint for the Abyss like a hunted stag.

She couldn’t let her in; the Abyss would lend her hands, and killing would turn from a blade to a millstone. That residue was an anchor.

As long as Caris sat within Moon Owl’s teleport range, the Moon Owl could break space and arrive. She raised her palm, and a deep crack mirrored Caris’s back.

Caris sensed it; her hairs rose like grass in a chill wind. Bloodless-faced, she turned and saw a cold dagger wrapped in space aura inch toward her throat.

“Don’t… kill me…”

She burst again; blood-mist spread like rust in the air. Moon Owl covered mouth and nose, tore another seam, and pressed the space tighter, stealing all footing.

The Prince watched from above, eyes smoldering on the spatial gates near the Twelfth District branch. Rage licked his face; he’d been fooled.

Those four spatial passages were lies. He had sent in so many blood scions, and they died like moths to a bonfire, all in one breath.

Blood Clan doesn’t stockpile that many scions overnight; even cannon fodder needs time to mass. Their line bled hard, unless the Twelfth District fell.

He saw the rifts for traps, and Caris’s words ringing true. Her choice had been mostly right, eight in ten by his reckoning.

“Humans are sly. I thought their schemes crude; turns out even ants can bite.”

Through bloodline, he felt where Caris was, and he tasted her weakness like iron on his tongue.

He glanced at Qiu Sheng at his side and saw the act for what it was. She’d never been confused; she wore deception like a veil.

“Your performance is passable.”

He eyed Qiu Sheng, head lolling in feigned sleep, wanting to slap the mask off her face, hunger pooling in his palms.

Blood gathered at his fingertips; a longsword of Blood sat cold in his grip. He swept right to left, a guillotine arc aimed at her neck.

Qiu Sheng’s lids snapped up; hoarded gold lightning flew free. A sky-splitting pillar fell like justice from clouds and wrapped her in light.

Dancing arcs fenced the Prince out like a thunder wall. Inside the blaze, Qiu Sheng picked her route and bolted before the arcs thinned.

The Prince frowned and cut the storm like a tide pulled by the moon; the endless thunderlight rolled back with a casual sweep.

Fear bit first, then disbelief: the pillar she’d built with almost all her strength was snuffed as easily as a candle in wind.

His gaze pinned her like a pin in a specimen. He burst into blood mist, whorled around her, and two withered, pale hands patted her shoulder.

Weight fell like a mountain. With each inch of his body pushing out of the mist, her shoulders sank deeper until concrete kissed her spine.

Her Magic Layer creaked under pressure, close to shattering; blood squeezed from her lungs like a sponge wrung dry.

“So this is Chapter Three…”

Qiu Sheng poured everything out; mana unfurled and lightning surged, but the Prince pinched it off with one hand, like snuffing a wick.

“Despair. Struggle… Two more ants came to die. You think just you two can steal her back from me?”

He flicked a glance toward Caris deep in the rent space, then down at Qiu Sheng and at Lu Shi and Dawnlight standing firm.

He raised a hand, fingers closing, and dropped it like a hammer to finish Qiu Sheng. Lu Shi, about to retort, became a shadow and rushed in.

His palm paused midair, then backhanded the raven shade, swatting Lu Shi away like a fly.

Dawnlight’s orb gathered around him, and a keen lance of holy light drove in; he lifted a hand and smashed it like crystal underfoot.

She bit down hard; a bright circle rose beneath her feet. Holy light fell like fine rain, and on Lu Shi, Qiu Sheng, and the Prince, a slick membrane grew.

On the Prince, the membrane cinched inward; from within, sharp spines sprouted, trying to bite into his skin like thorn-vines.

He frowned, then smoothed it away. He squeezed blood out, mingling it with the holy rain; with a flick and a sweep, the membrane exploded like a bursting bubble.

Helplessness seeped in like cold water. Lu Shi’s face darkened; plan and reality drifted apart. She hadn’t wanted that move, but the Prince was a mountain.

While Dawnlight cast the rain, Lu Shi dashed to a nearby roof. Lu Jin lay prone there, feeding the Twelfth District branch the Prince’s movements like a wire.

Seeing Lu Shi, Lu Jin understood; their strength couldn’t shake a Blood Clan Prince. They needed to buy Qiu Sheng time—one clean strike.

Black-and-white twin wings unfurled again. Ebon and pure feathers whipped up a gale, spear-feathers thrusting at the Prince; his cloak swept them aside like a storm door.

He studied the merged Lu Jin and Lu Shi, expression tightening, then loosening. Their fusion touched Chapter Three—a rumor turned real.

Even with twin wings, the gap was a chasm. Before, Lu Shi was a punching bag; fused, they were a bag with teeth. Still a bag, in the end.

Lujin Lushi gathered power, a single-shot engine winding up for one impossible bullet.

Annoyance simmered; that one darted like a housefly. He spread bat wings, clenched a blood sphere, the copper stench wreathing him like smoke.

Seeing him take the air, Dawnlight stilled her rain and stoked her own light, a sunrise wound tight behind her ribs.

The black-and-white Magic Cannon slammed into the hovering blood sphere. The spinning sphere shredded the cannon’s halo; even moonlight ground into silver dust.

Dawnlight loosed her mana and sprinted for fallen Qiu Sheng. The Prince, as if reading their script, misted and appeared behind Lu Jin and Lu Shi.

The sphere that had locked with the cannon dropped like a red meteor, angling straight for Dawnlight mid-run.

“Damn it!”

Dawnlight couldn’t take that alone, and Lujin Lushi couldn’t leave the Prince behind and the falling sphere unchecked.

In that heartbeat, Lu Jin and Lu Shi weighed a sky of options and chose to unfuse. Lu Shi gripped her dagger and faced the Prince; Lu Jin streaked for Dawnlight.

Without the twin Magic Cannon pressing it, the blood sphere sped like a hawk stooping. Lu Jin raised the Rosefire Pistol; holy fire-roses bloomed in the night.

Dawnlight’s golden ring and Wand built hard light screens like stacked shields.

Under Lu Shi’s feet, shadow rose into broad hands, pressing from every side like a black tide. She knew her edge; at the limit, she’d dive into shadow and run.

The blooming roses checked the sphere for a heartbeat, then were crushed to petals. Dawnlight’s screens held briefly, and they hauled Qiu Sheng out.

Seeing it, Lu Shi poured mana like oil on a flame.

The Magic Stone at her waist dimmed, declaring the well dry. She spared the effortless Prince one unwilling glance, then slipped into shadow and rushed back inside the branch.

Lu Jin, Dawnlight, and Qiu Sheng dove into Moon Owl’s pre-set channel, opened just in time, and tumbled back into the base.

Qiu Sheng lived. They were all spent, but no one died, a thin mercy like rain after drought.

The Prince’s strength was unmeasurable; fight him longer, and they’d all die in his hands without question.

Chapter Three meets Chapter Three. Even if Lu Shi and Lu Jin can fuse and flare up to Chapter Three, it’s a paper flame beside the real thing.