Hrubess gently stroked the earth. Incomplete skeletons clawed up from the soil, faint azure flames flickering within their sockets—delicate yet stubborn against the wind.

At her command, the undead scattered to draw attention, granting her the perfect opening to strike one by one.

“…Prism Cut.”

While the undead held them back, Hrubess continued chanting. Mana coalesced into shimmering crystals, gathering ambient light into beams sharp enough to slice steel.

The beams swept through the field, cleaving undead in half. Hrubess felt no loss. These were mere constructs—revived by simple Magic Spells and guided by Spirit Threads. Cheap necromancy. Their destruction cost her nothing.

Zhao Qingsnow dodged the beam first. She studied Hrubess. Since appearing, she’d unleashed countless standard Magic Spells—each ordinary in theory, yet devastating in her hands.

Zhao Qingsnow had studied those same spells. Mastered barely a few. Some demanded years of devotion. *Is she some centuries-old relic?* Yet her face, her voice—no older than forty.

“…Incinerate.”

Zhao Qingsnow instantly raised an ice wall. Crimson magma erupted nearby; fire tongues surged toward the group. Qiu Sheng, barely clear of the Prism Cut, now faced roaring flames.

She cursed under her breath and fled. The Old Woman remained safely buried underground, evading attacks while hunting an opening. Chen Xiaoyin suffered most—no speed like Qiu Sheng’s, no earthcraft like the Old Woman’s, no experience like Zhao Qingsnow’s. Only her shield stood between her and ruin.

“If you stand down, I won’t harm you,” Hrubess called from above, gaze burning. “Truth needs witnesses. When even former enemies accept a truth… that is truth.”

Since maturity, she’d pursued two questions: What is a Magic Maiden? What is her essence?

To her, a true Magic Maiden mastered diverse magic, adapting fluidly—not clinging to one signature spell. Those who did were incomplete.

She became a Seeker. Half a lifetime spent chasing answers. Then came the offer:

“I will show you truth. In return, serve me.”

Hrubess agreed. She bowed before the deity’s statue, gained fragments of knowledge—hints of magic’s origin. To learn more… the god must awaken.

Unlike fanatics, she never killed civilians. Nor did she care if they lived. Only truth mattered.

“Truth? To chase your ‘truth,’ will you destroy the Twelfth District again?!” Zhao Qingsnow roared upward. Hrubess remained unmoved. She hadn’t wanted conflict—their resistance forced her hand. Aphrodite was the path to truth; aiding her was only right.

The Old Woman summoned stone spikes—but they shattered against Hrubess’s newly formed barriers.

“This isn’t over.”

Qiu Sheng, riding lightning, kicked off a stone pillar embedded in the light barrier, shattering its layers. But Hrubess was ready. The spikes aimed at her crumbled to dust.

“Don’t waste your efforts resisting,” she said.

“Don’t waste your efforts resisting.”

A spatial rupture exploded nearby. A woman’s voice echoed—the Fourth Pillar, lured earlier by Qianchun and Illusory Glass.

After the blast, her black wrappings turned to ash, revealing scandalously tight crimson Magic Armor. Crimson eyes, jet-black hair, porcelain skin, and exquisitely crafted magical earrings framed her face. She cradled a golden chalice glowing eerily beneath the night sky.

Bloodied but unbroken, she hurled Illusory Glass and Qianchun from hiding. With a thought, she reshaped any blood on the ground.

Chen Xiaoyin’s breath caught. *I’ve seen her.* A film Night Frost once watched—the six Magic Maidens who slew the Calamity Dragon. One was Blood.

Slightly altered, yet seventy percent identical. Chen Xiaoyin knew: this was Blood.

“Oh? Exposed already… How troublesome. If I said I’m not her, would you believe me? Of course not…”

Blood tucked away the Blood Chalice and stretched. Too long since she moved. After ambushing Order, she’d hidden within the Seeker’s ranks, rising to Fourth Pillar.

Prestige. Breakthroughs in magical research. Yet she always concealed her face. The only Magic Maiden absent from the film.

She bared sharp fangs, unfurled bat-like wings, and glided toward the dazed pair.

Qianchun dispelled their white-light shield and hurled twin wind blades. They struck her cheek—and vanished against her Magic Layer.

“What Magic Maiden… You’re not human! You’re Blood Clan!”

Illusory Glass recognized that form. Blood Clan… yet faintly human. A hybrid.

“So what? I’m humanity’s guardian~ I repelled invaders. Protected human lands.”

Her eyes glowed faintly. Invisible Spirit Threads pressed inward, forcing them back—compelling belief.

Illusory Glass’s dwindling mana could fuel one last spell.

“Time Hold—”

“Time Stop.”

Blood’s voice cut in. Qianchun froze beside her.

Watching through space, Moon Owl shot upright. “The Blood Chalice.”

Dawnlight urged her down. Moon Owl refused.

Drinking the chalice granted temporary access to the donor’s power. Blood had taken Illusory Glass’s blood—now wielding time magic.

Only spatial magic could counter it. Moon Owl tore space open, dagger flashing toward Blood’s back.

“Time Stop.”

Moon Owl froze mid-lunge. As Blood turned, she moved again—dagger thrusting forward.

“The strain is heavy. Can’t hold back Cantata Three long. But I don’t rely on time alone.”

She slashed her palm. Blood swirled into a scythe. Gripping the Crimson Scythe, she pointed at Moon Owl.

“Time Slow. Time Accelerate. Double speed.”

In one breath, the blade carved across Moon Owl’s chest—shattering her Magic Layer, leaving a deep, bone-deep gash.

The Blood Chalice caught the flowing blood, brimming full. Blood sighed.

“Such beautiful blood… Pity I can’t savor it now.”

Delicious. Potent. Spatial magic rivaled time—but time still held. She’d save it. Blood soured with time.

Moon Owl staggered up. Already weakened, this strike drained her. Facing a Blood Clan hybrid, every clash would steal more blood. Seal the wound. Now.

“Now… die.”

“Shadow body, weeping blood of the masses—let the blade manifest! Forge a stairway to heaven with the blood of all; crown me with the bones of gods… Crimson Thorn Crown. Αιματηρά αγκάθια!”

“Get down!”

Illusory Glass poured her last mana into Blood. Crimson thorns coiled around her fingers, lunging for the slowed Moon Owl.

Too close! No time!

Illusory Glass sprinted. Mana vanished. Darkness swallowed her. Legs buckled. She collapsed mid-stride.

“Damn… it…”

Unleashed, the thorns surged—draining earth’s blood, racing toward helpless prey.

“Majestic pure-white mountain, the Chosen One stands atop the peak. O purifying wind, descend judgment upon the unclean! Purge all impurity, remove all obstacles—this is my will! βουνά και αέρας!”

A pure-white stone barrier rose before Moon Owl. Gentle mana radiated outward, halting the thorns.

Behind it, wind gathered—then roared. A gale deflected the thorns, twisting their path.

Moon Owl rose. Her Magic Armor blazed anew.

“Release the seal…”

“Space… Disintegration!”

She gritted each word, voice strained, will unbroken.