The man braced like a cliff against Selina’s surging assault.

Unexpectedly, Selina dove like a raptor, slammed her shoulder through his guard, then snapped a kick that made his jaw bare its teeth.

But as Selina retracted her leg, the man seized her ankle and yanked her in, then hurled an iron fist like a meteor striking earth.

Bang!

The heavy fist smashed her skull; her head snapped back, her neck like a coiled spring straining to absorb the sweeping demolition.

Pain lit her brain’s center like lightning, detonating a storm of vertigo inside her skull.

Balance fled like a startled deer; her vestibular system reeled, and her stance crumbled.

Under the crash, her vision sank into night; an invisible hand wiped the world clean, leaving an endless void.

Her ears filled with a knife-edge ringing, a mad swarm beating wings in her head, stirring her thoughts into deeper chaos.

Selina staggered and crumpled to the ground, her body slack like unstrung silk.

Strength seeped out through every pore like mist, silent and thin.

Yet her eyes stayed open, half-dazed and glassy; her pupils drifted side to side, sensing the edges of the scene.

In truth, her gaze couldn’t lock; everything smudged into fog-soft shapes.

“Interesting.” The man pressed his swollen lip, clamped her head like a vise, and lifted, studying blood-webbed eyes and the red line sliding along her jaw. “You ate all my hits—do you think I’m weak, or do you fight like life means nothing?”

“Not simple.” Canary’s voice sped like wind as she pushed the Dark Realm open without looking back. “She tanked you and still carved you up like this.”

“Forget me—how long?” His tone was gravel, impatience scraping.

“A little.” Her reply was a flicking flame.

“More are coming.” His words fell like approaching drums.

“Blame who?” Her breath was frost in the air.

“Who knows—would Melvina be out walking before dawn?” He let sarcasm hang like smoke.

Canary chuckled, then footsteps rose from all directions like rain on leaves; her face hardened. “We might not open it today.”

“Still far?” His brow creased like a closing shutter.

“At this pace, the Dark Realm can wake on its own—just… the clock’s a blur.” Her voice thinned like mist at sunrise.

“We have to stay in Naghtown to ensure it completes.” His certainty landed like a stake.

Canary said nothing. She watched the spinning square magic box, drew a special iron rod from her belt, and stabbed it into the gear’s teeth like a spike.

Rod and high-speed steel scraped and screamed, throwing orange sparks; as the rod neared the core, the main gear slowed, then fell silent, leaving only wisps of white steam.

“You stay here.” Canary folded the box into a rectangle and shot him a look like a knife’s glint. “Police already suspect you over those missing women’s corpses.”

“We came together. If I’m cuffed, where do you even run?” His doubt curled like smoke.

“You’re too conspicuous; with you, I move like a lantern in fog.” Her answer was quick as a sparrow’s wing.

“What else do you want to do?” His tone was a low drum.

“No way I’m just waiting for the Dark Realm to wake.” Her refusal cut like cold water.

He nodded, understanding settling like dust. “As long as the plan can finish smooth…”

Canary held the rectangular box and opened her free hand like a demand. “Give me Melvina; I need to erode her data.”

“If there’s no erosion, you can’t kill her.” His warning was steel.

“Depends.” Her eyes were winter glass.

“Give me a clear answer.” His voice pressed like a clamp.

“Not the time to argue!” Her words snapped like a whip.

“I take food seriously.” His grin showed teeth like a wolf.

Footsteps tangled and swelled, a net drawing tight.

Canary dashed toward Hedi like a shadow, then saw police and nuns flooding in; she cut her route, rode trees and darkness, and fled like a night bird.

Police fired three rounds at the streaking shadow—three cracks like stones on a lake—then leveled their gun at the tall man standing still. “Hands on your head, or you’ll be wearing new holes.”

“Easy. I’m just passing through.” His tone was smooth as river pebbles.

“Hands. On. Your. Head.” The warning hit like iron.

“Okay, officer.” He lifted them like surrendering wings.

“What are you doing here?” The question snapped like a twig.

“Walking.” His answer was bare as a path.

“How did you get into the Molokov Bay Chapel?” The name rang like a bell under stone.

“This is a chapel?” He feigned surprise, eyes wide like lanterns. “I thought… just ordinary woods.”

“Tell the truth. My patience is thin.” The words were a short blade.

“That is the truth.” His reply was a flat stone.

The officer edged closer, one hand sliding out handcuffs with a metallic chime, the other steady on the gun like a rooted tree.

He glanced at Selina and Hedi lying on the ground, then stated, voice hard as slate, “I’m arresting you for assault. Any objections?” The cuffs swayed and clicked, bright as coins.

“Objection! I hurt no one!” His protest flared like a match.

“Who can prove it?” The question was cold rain.

“You’ve got no evidence. You can’t peg me violent just because I’m built big.” His words rolled like a thrown stone.

“Come with me to the station first.” The order carried weight like a door.

“When I got here, they were already down. You saw the shadow bolt; that one’s the culprit.” His claim pointed like an arrow.

The officer stared at the face hiding in shadow like a hood. “Why not say that first?”

“I said it all—walking here, saw them down, reached to check, then you arrived.” His defense ran like a thin stream.

“Back to the station.” The command was a chain.

“Officer, you can’t—” His plea cracked like ice.

“Get the hell back.” The bark hit like a whip.

Anger flooded his chest like hot coals, but he swallowed it; a leash of silence tightened, and he followed.

“These two—” The officer halted, words heavy as lead. “They need a hospital.”

“We can only drive to the next town.” The lead nun’s voice was steady as rope. “It’s late; the clinic’s closed.”

“Inform the Holy Maiden.” The order lifted like a banner.

“We’ll carry them.” The promise was firm as shoulders.

The officer cast Hedi a glance, a curl of disdain like smoke. “A Spellcaster beaten like this—pretty but useless.”

The nuns who had been standing watch saw the officer and the man leave, then rushed straight to Selina and Hedi; one knelt to check wounds and cried, breath sharp as a blade, “It’s really bad! Get them to the Holy Maiden!”

They hoisted the badly injured Selina and the unconscious Hedi, feet thudding on forest soil like drums, and sprinted for the Holy Maiden’s room. Far off, they saw the Holy Maiden leaning at the window and shouted, voices like bells, “Sorry to disturb you! We need your healing magic!”

“Weren’t you checking the source of that noise?” Her question fluttered like a startled bird.

“Hard to explain right now!” The answer tumbled like stones.

The Holy Maiden ran downstairs, and the blood in sight froze her like winter; her face went pale. “What happened?!”

“Please don’t ask yet!” The plea was a raised hand.

“Okay.” She steadied her breath like a lake. “Lay them down. I’ll cast healing.”