Night Frost’s words left Andi slightly taken aback—but her expression quickly hardened with resolve.

"Then, let us begin. Allow me to witness the full extent of your power, bearer of the Calamity Dragon’s strength." (in Elvish)

Andi murmured softly. She wasn’t sure if Night Frost understood Elvish—but she believed she did. The deity had revealed the scroll in her palm was a disguise, an elven creation.

As her voice faded, her body blurred into a fleeting afterimage and shot toward Night Frost.

Night Frost’s gaze sharpened. In an instant, she vanished—reappearing at Andi’s side. The spear in her hand blazed fiercely. She held nothing back; every strike carried lethal intent—a mark of respect.

Andi sidestepped effortlessly, avoiding the blow. Though her mana was weak, her close-combat skills were honed. Her Hasso Blade flashed coldly as she slashed toward Night Frost’s neck.

Night Frost ducked low, evading the strike while thrusting her spear forward. Their movements—a dizzying blur of attacks and dodges.

The air crackled with clashing energy. Sparks flew with every collision. Night Frost’s flaming spear met Andi’s Hasso Blade, ringing with sharp metallic clangs.

Night Frost moved with elegant power, worthy of the Calamity Dragon’s name. Andi flowed like a nimble fox, weaving through every assault.

Andi’s Hasso Blade whirled into an impenetrable dance. Wreathed in Abyssal Aura, each swing hummed with thunderous resonance.

"You are strong. For you, this is only the beginning. For me… this is everything." (in Elvish)

She crossed her arms, revealing the Magic Stone at her chest—hers alone. She had lifted the seal before; now, she would break it again. After repeated clashes, she knew the gap between them.

Night Frost’s martial prowess rivaled decades of Andi’s training—and that was without other abilities. Had she used them, Andi would have already fallen.

She compressed every trace of Abyssal Aura into her chest. Eyes reopening, the aura draped her shoulders like a black veil. Her Hasso Blade now bore two trailing black ribbons.

With a flick of her small hand, Night Frost conjured twin flames and hurled them. Andi cleaved both apart with her twin Hasso Blades.

Post-unsealing, Andi had transformed—but still fell short of the Sorceress she’d faced at the fortress. Had Night Frost unsealed too, victory would have been effortless.

"Be careful!"

"Unlock! 'Xeklidoma kai anoigma!'"

Surging mana and Abyssal Aura converged, cracking the pure white orb at the center of Night Frost’s chest. Had she looked closer, she’d have seen it was hollow—only outer Array Patterns remained. Without foundation, collapse was inevitable.

Mana erupted. Crimson-gold wings unfurled from her back. Black Flames and CrimsonGoldFlames fused into a dual-hued lance. Her eyes gleamed crimson-gold; scales crept across her palms.

Night Frost flapped her draconic wings, rising smoothly. A sweep of her spear-arm summoned several CrimsonGoldFlames before her.

The lance tip sliced air. Countless CrimsonGoldFlames rained down, streaking toward Andi.

Andi’s eyes widened. She dodged frantically—barely avoiding the flames, but not the spear. The Crimson Gold Lance pierced her right shoulder. Blood gushed. She cried out in pain, yanked the lance free, and retreated swiftly.

But Night Frost granted no respite.

A light step launched her upward. Spear thrust forward. More CrimsonGoldFlames bloomed around her. Andi dodged left—unaware one flame trailed her, tracing a graceful arc through the air.

The spear tip pressed against Andi’s neck. Undeniable defeat. Subdued before casting a single Magic Spell. Even in spellcraft, victory was uncertain.

"I lose…"

The words barely faded when a Spirit Thread burst through a long, dark tunnel—racing toward the kneeling Andi. Though singular, it was unnaturally thick. What was once spiritually perceptible now visible to the naked eye.

It shot forward. Night Frost unleashed spiritual barriers—but they held only a moment. The colossal thread tore through her woven net of Spirit Threads.

"It has come… the deity…" (in Elvish)

"A god?!"

Night Frost’s threads snapped one by one. The thick thread inched toward Andi. Andi strained to move, but Abyssal Aura weighed her down like a boulder, stealing her breath.

"Run—!" (in Elvish)

Night Frost roared—but Andi was at her limit, nails clawing the ground, fighting the noise in her mind.

Fertini rushed forward, lifting the kneeling Andi. Andi shouted for her to leave. No matter where she fled in this passage, the thread would find her. A death sentence.

Fertini refused. She hoisted Andi onto her back and ran toward the Abyssal Rift. Once, Andi had carried her from the fortress. Now, it was her turn—to repay over a decade of care.

"Why don’t you understand?" Andi whispered.

"I understand! I know you never took the tribe’s aid. Every resource came from your hunts. You raised us—eleven Sorceresses who couldn’t fend for ourselves…"

"We saw your sacrifices. But us… what could we ever do?"

Fertini reached the passage’s end—their entry point. Night Frost had exhausted all efforts. The massive Spirit Thread shattered her net and plunged into Andi’s mind.

Andi’s body trembled slightly. She shook her head clear, wriggled free from Fertini’s back, and kicked her toward where the young sorceresses hid.

Gripping her Hasso Blade, she placed its edge to her own neck. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she met Night Frost’s gaze.

"Please… take care of them…" (in Elvish)

"I promise." (in Elvish)

Hearing the vow, she seemed at peace. The blade glided gently across her neck. Amid Fertini’s anguished scream, she severed her own head.

Blood gushed—a dark fountain swallowed by shadow. Only Night Frost witnessed it. Her warm heart stilled.

The head rolled to Night Frost’s feet. Night Frost closed her eyes, then reduced the remains to ashes with flame.

"Let’s go." (in Draconic)

Night Frost turned to call Fertini and the others—but the sealed rift tore violently open. She spun around, staring into the gaping chasm.

Who reopened the rift now?

The Elderly Elf… or…?

Dread coiled in her chest. When giant hands filled her vision, ice shot through her. She hurled flames at Andi’s headless corpse on the ground.

The hands seized the body. Her flames struck—without effect.

Beneath the rift lay scorched earth Night Frost had cleared with Black Flames. Now, tumor-like growths covered it, forming a "tumor ladder" clustered in the giant palms beside the corpse.

The omen sharpened. She had to stop them.

Night Frost held nothing back. CrimsonGoldFlame in her palm reversed into deep black, merging with the darkness. Only her dark golden eyes marked her position.

Flames crawled up the hands, down the tumor-ladder—reducing the growths to ash in an instant.

Black Flames burned quietly on the clenched fists. She even smelled roasting meat. The hands remained unmoved.

Seizing the stillness, Night Frost shouted:

"Run forward now!" (in Draconic)

Fertini knew lingering meant death. She sprinted ahead with the young sorceresses. Night Frost stayed last, gritting her teeth. After leaving a wall of fire, she retreated swiftly.

From the giant hand, vines slithered into the headless corpse. Revolting tendrils replaced veins. A tumor swallowed the chest Magic Stone, claiming its core.

The corpse rose. The giant hands shrank, replacing Andi’s palms.

The transformation continued. A fresh, pulsating brain crashed in from the void. Night Frost recognized it—the Spirit Thread’s origin.

Vines wrapped the brain, barely forming a humanoid shape. Yet this patchwork horror radiated crushing pressure… pressure surpassing Chapter Three.

"Is this the so-called Ultimate…?"

She had felt this before—from the heart deep in the Abyss.

"Heart… Hand…"

A thread connected them. Same aura. Same origin.

A chilling conjecture formed slowly in Night Frost’s mind.

She swallowed hard. Her wings dared not still. The pressure behind her—unbeatable.

"Is this… their god?"