Ashen figures and golden flashes intertwined, locked in combat.

Swords and scythes clanged like blacksmith’s hammers, nonstop.

They parted the instant they collided, only to crash together again.

Each strike tore through the air with such force that cracks spiderwebbed across the plaza floor.

The entire square lay shattered.

Royal guards retreated hastily—this battle’s ferocity was far beyond mortal interference.

“Too slow! You’re way too slow… Can’t you speed up?!” the self-proclaimed Destroyer, a petite girl, jeered.

Euphemia’s expression grew graver; her breath turned ragged under the relentless assault.

She admitted her opponent’s strength was formidable.

For the first time, her speed matched someone’s… no, she was gradually losing ground.

From dominating the fight initially, she now faced the Destroyer’s aggressive advances.

Her defenses were crumbling.

*Hiss!*

The Great Scythe grazed Euphemia’s silver armor, leaving a deep gash—barely missing cleaving it apart.

They instantly broke apart.

The Destroyer, wielding Helena’s Crimson Great Scythe, sneered with wild arrogance: “Shed that deadweight armor if you want to keep fighting. That flimsy defense won’t stop my blade. Next time, I won’t miss.”

Euphemia lightly tapped her armor. It shattered into pieces, revealing lightweight gear beneath.

Indeed, Helena’s Crimson Great Scythe was a magically forged weapon of extreme sharpness.

This was the first time her silver armor had suffered such severe damage.

A mere scratch had torn it open—a direct hit would’ve split her in two.

Against such a weapon, pure defense was futile.

Seeing the now-unarmored, focused girl before her, the Destroyer cackled: “There we go… *that’s* better… Kill me! Kill me!”

She suddenly roared upward: “And what are *you* waiting for?! Revenge after I kill her?!”

Euphemia looked up. The figure materializing in the sky stunned her.

“Master?”

Cecile cradled the unconscious Helena, her finger in the girl’s mouth as Helena suckled her blood to recover.

Staring at the ash-blond, ragged little girl wreaking havoc below, Cecile’s mind reeled.

*Who the hell is this?!*

This wasn’t the Blood Clan Ancestor from the game’s storyline.

She remembered the summoned Ancestor—a towering ancient prince, perfectly countered by Euphemia’s abilities.

With Helena’s relentless harassment, they should’ve had a 90% chance of eliminating this future calamity.

But reality?

This random little girl had crippled Helena instantly, matched Euphemia’s speed and strength purely physically, and now held the advantage.

She even taunted Cecile to join the fight.

If not for their telepathic bond alerting Cecile the moment Helena fell unconscious, she might have lost both her top unawakened warriors today.

*Butterfly effect?*

Had altering relationships shifted the original plot?

Next time, she’d need extreme caution—no more relying solely on past knowledge.

Such variables were lethal.

Perhaps she should blend Cecile’s perspective with her godlike foresight…

But this little girl?

Cecile found zero records of her.

She seemed to appear from nowhere—unlike any Blood Clan Ancestor described in lore.

Yet what did it matter?

Summoned by a dying clan, she couldn’t surpass Cecile’s power.

Confronting her personally would be beneath her—like an adult picking on a child.

Helena stirred in Cecile’s arms, eyes fluttering open after drinking her blood.

“Mommy…”

“What happened? You collapsed without resistance, disarmed and unconscious?” Cecile asked, curious.

Helena shook her head. “I don’t know. She appeared behind me suddenly. I tried to dissolve into crimson mist, but my powers… sealed. When she bit me, I couldn’t move. She just… took my blood.”

“She seems inherently counter to me…”

“So she *could* have killed you outright?”

Cecile couldn’t believe anyone could completely counter Helena, the little demon even late-game Euphemia could only stalemate.

“She could have,” Helena recalled the terror. “But she chose not to.”

Cecile caught the implication.

“She doesn’t want to kill you… or Euphemia.” Her gaze sharpened. “She even craves fighting *me*. Is she… seeking thrills through battle?”

If true, letting her test Euphemia and Helena might be useful.

Cecile pointed downward at the ash-blond girl. “Join Euphemia. Fight her together. I’ll watch from here.”

“But my weapon…” Helena glanced at her empty hands.

“Catch!” a voice yelled from below.

A blazing crimson sun soared toward Helena.

She leaped down, catching her Crimson Great Scythe mid-air.

Below, the Destroyer plunged a hand into her collar. Violet light crackled as a black sword hilt materialized.

She drew it slowly—a katana thrumming with apocalyptic lightning.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a bolt crackling toward Euphemia and Helena, eyes gleaming with malicious glee.

“Show me your full strength. Make me *happy* as I die here… *Please*. Kill me!”

“Or I’ll lose control… and end this world. Erase its history. Annihilate all existence. Reduce everything… to silence.”

Lightning erupted from the blade.

Swords clashed. Scythes whirled.

The radiant blade, the viscous blood-red scythe, and the storm-wreathed katana collided once more.