Though their auras clashed with equal intensity, the gap in raw power remained undeniable. Invisible blades of mana, woven with the Sorceress Leader’s murmured incantations, sliced effortlessly through the skin of Night Frost’s arms under her command.
Night Frost possessed countless abilities, yet against an opponent with even a slight edge, she inevitably fell behind. The Black Flame and Array Patterns granted her foresight into the attacks—but the moment she moved, she realized the leader’s strikes were just a hair faster. The Black Flame kept her from falling too far behind; the rest relied on her skill and resolve to compensate.
Seeing Night Frost evade a certain-death blow, the Sorceress Leader’s gaze flickered. She activated her Magic Armor. Abyssal Aura surged inward, flooding the armor centered on her body. Her plain hunter’s garb sprouted a flowing cloak; leather gloves and boots hardened into pitch-black armor. Scales rippled across her skin, her eyes sharpening into vertical slits. Had they not known her identity, Night Frost and the others would have mistaken her for a Monster. The sight stirred something deep within Night Frost and the Eye Orb.
They had seen this before: compressing vast mana inward to trigger transformation—eerily similar to the unlocking method of Magic Maidens from the mortal realm. Yet differences remained. Most mortal-realm Maidens channeled external mana into themselves; exceptions like Crimson drew power from past and future selves. Here in the Abyss, Sorceresses—Fallen Ones—used a more primal path: compressing their *own* mana to an absolute limit to shatter the boundary. No Magic Spell required. Only detonation.
The Sorceress Leader lacked the finesse for direct compression-unlocking. But Night Frost understood. She too drew mana inward. Black Flame and Crimson Gold Flame retracted, converging and solidifying deep within her chest.
Scholars claimed the heart was mana’s conduit, the Magic Stone its source. Night Frost once believed it—until Qianchun proved otherwise. The body held hidden reservoirs. Night Frost felt it: an intangible organ at her core, where a sealed white sphere had "simulated" or "replaced" what once was. Perhaps humanity, in its wild evolution, had once been Monsters too—losing Magic Stones yet retaining vestiges of that power in chest and mind.
*This* was the original path. As the realization struck, Night Frost’s heart gave a faint stir. *This is the way.*
More crucially, her spirit had already arrived. Reuniting with her parents had untangled most of her knots. On the journey back, she’d seen the dust-sealed gate—the last chain hanging limply upon it. She now held the right: to open it herself. To step into Chapter Three.
The Sorceress Leader blinked in disbelief. After effortlessly slaying two foes moments ago, Night Frost wouldn’t just surrender. *Unless…* She was mirroring the Leader’s technique. Rising to her level.
"Hmph… Impossible. Even with perfect control, without taking *that* step—how can unlocking be achieved?" (in Elvish)
Night Frost couldn’t parse the Elvish, but intuition screamed mockery. *Futile?* She’d waited long enough.
Truthfully, only two months—but compared to advancing from First Symphony to Cantata Two in under thirty days, it felt like an eternity. A height no other Magic Maiden would ever reach. Another miracle, witnessed only by the Eye Orb, the fallen enemy, and Li Dogegg behind her—etched forever into their memories.
"I’ve waited for this moment long enough!"
Her palm settled on the rusted chain. Compressed mana gathered in her grip. A gentle squeeze—and it shattered.
The gate swung open. No borrowed power from the Black Dragon or Crimson. Purely her own. Accumulation complete. Breaking through felt as natural as breathing.
The Eye Orb recorded it all—the most complete chronicle of her growth. It felt pride, joy… and a quiet ache. There was no turning back now. Night Frost’s expression held no regret.
Beyond the gate, boundless light swirled. Mana and Abyssal Aura coalesced. The white cracks in her chest—left by the Dragon of Prophecy’s power—now glowed starkly under the concentrated energy.
An ethereal voice whispered, crystal clear:
"Speak it… Words will grant you power."
Above her head, silvery-white blessing shimmered. As her lips parted:
"Unlocking… Ξεκλείδωμα και άνοιγμα."
The compressed mana—primordial, silent, suffocating—detonated within her. Explosive energy flooded her veins. Crimson Gold Flame wove radiant wings, dusted with obsidian scales. Black Flame and Crimson Gold Flame twisted into a dual-hued Spear in her palm. Dark fabric, stitched by flame into a flowing skirt. Horns sprouted on her brow. Her crimson-gold pupils deepened with ancient shadow. Silvery light traced her skin, then vanished inward.
A superior bloodline pressed down. To the Leader, Night Frost was no serpent—but the Calamity Dragon. One of the Abyss’s apex beings. The final gap in power sealed. The Leader trembled, dread flooding her: *This isn’t an elf. She’s a Sorceress… no… a dragon.*
Fumbling a tome from her robes, the Leader stammered:
"May the gods have mercy—Magic Armor Ritual! O great gods, grant your decree: Let the starry river forge the hall, eternal lamps pave the steps—"
Too late.
Night Frost’s forehead met hers. Icy dragon horns pierced her brow. The Spear drove into her abdomen. Twin flames erupted—searing mind and flesh alike. She collapsed into blood, eyes wide with disbelief. Consumed to ash. No counter. No chance.
Night Frost glanced at the smoldering silhouette. *That chant was unlocking-related.* Crimson had neared the Ultimate after two unlockings. Had the Leader finished? Night Frost would’ve needed the Ultimate herself to win. Yet the Leader hadn’t even memorized it properly. In the mortal realm, spells were whispered—never shouted aloud unless in films or final stands. *Crafty old foxes.*
[Myth] Abyss-dwellers were too naive. No wonder native Fallen Ones rarely thrived topside: few could even arrive, and innocence rarely survived mortal-realm cunning. Had some Magic Maiden spells originated here? These Sorceresses worshipped a deity… A chilling thought. Night Frost pushed it aside.
"It’s over."
She turned. The Eye Orb had retrieved the Magic Stone—embedded within the Sorceress’s body, not worn like ornament, much like Monsters. It gazed at her new wings (beloved, obedient) and the troublesome horns (prone to snagging).
"Li Dogegg can’t have them! They’re a dragon’s symbol!" Night Frost tossed the horns aside. "Palu… Familiars don’t protest."
Having reached Chapter Three through the Fallen One’s path, her transformed body hinted at untapped potential.
"Let’s go back… see Lurie."
She deactivated the unlocking. Wings retracted. The Magic Armor remained altered. The disguise scroll still functioned—but couldn’t hide the striking nascent horns. Only a hairpin offered feeble cover.
