The Gilded Flamefang Sovereign rammed the barrier in madness.

  He remembered—

  the taste of human flesh,

  warmer, sharper, more intoxicating than any beast’s blood.

  That memory flared.

  The golden crystal in his chest blazed unchecked.

  Spirit-flames roared across his hide.

  Fangs bright as frozen steel sank again and again into the trembling wall of light.

  The outer rings were gone.

  Only three layers remained.

  Each shuddered—one breath from collapse.

  Elena’s face had turned to chalk, every vein straining in overdrive.

  The Lyriquill Heron wheeled above her, wings sewing radiance into the fractures.

  Each stitch tore her channels raw.

  Blood streamed from her fingertips with every pulse.

  “I… can’t hold it much longer…” she hissed.

  Hidaea and Aeloryn pressed close, hands glowing as they forced healing into her burning veins.

  “—All units, prepare to retreat!” Craen’s command cracked like a blade.

  His hands blurred, scrawling the final contingency sigils.

  “Step-Stones ready! One blink—seven meters. Enough to reach the mid-slope.

  When the barrier falls, drink Bloomlight Nectar. Three minutes’ immunity—no more.”

  The healers would be slow.

  They needed carriers.

  Craen’s gaze cut to YiChen and ChengYu.

  Not Church-born, but the swiftest.

  The burden was theirs.

  And then—

  The Sovereign bellowed.

  ?

  BOOM.

  The cliffs split.

  Stone cascaded like shattering glass.

  A shadow surged from the abyss.

  The Serpent.

  Not dead—

  its body mangled, its core fractured—

  yet hatred burned it awake.

  Dragging half its carcass, it lunged.

  Fangs plunged into the Sovereign’s throat.

  The valley convulsed.

  Firestorm met venom tide.

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  The earth screamed.

  The beasts collided.

  And the barrier—

  shattered.

  ?

  “Retreat!” Craen roared.

  Exorcists scattered, downing Bloomlight Nectar as they sprinted for the cliffs.

  ChengYu leapt first, Silverwing blazing.

  Both arms outstretched, he seized Hidaea and Aeloryn.

  Lightning-wings flared, hurling him through the poison fog.

  YiChen swept Elena up, pressed the vial to her lips, tightened his grip around her waist.

  In the same breath, Shadowfang fused—

  his body surged into a panther’s sprint, vanishing into shadow-speed.

  ?

  Shockwaves thundered.

  Mist boiled.

  Stone split.

  YiChen vaulted shattered boulders, blinked forward on Step-Stones—

  each stride a blur through ruin and haze.

  Phantoms lunged.

  He drew Shadowfang in a single arc.

  Moonlit blades carved the dark—specters shredding into fragments, shrieking into nothing.

  In his arms, Elena clung close.

  She felt his body tremble—

  not with fear,

  but with strain.

  Power tearing muscle, spirit grinding bone.

  Still, he held her steady.

  Every wave of poison, he tucked her head against his chest.

  Every flying shard, his arm shielded her from harm.

  His breath rasped against her ear, heartbeat hammering like war-drums—

  and beneath it, an unspoken vow:

  He would carry her out.

  No matter the cost.

  ?

  Elena lifted her gaze.

  Firelight flickered across his profile—

  jaw sharp as carved stone, eyes calm, unwavering,

  as though even the world’s collapse could not shake him.

  She had never been this close to any man—

  much less one such as him.

  A strand of his hair brushed her cheek.

  A drop of sweat struck her collar.

  Her pulse jolted.

  Heat surged.

  She did not know if it was backlash—

  or some sudden stirring nameless and wild.

  But here, between death and ruin, within his arms—

  for the first time, Elena felt safe.

  ?

  YiChen carried her to the old camp halfway up the slope.

  ChengYu had already landed.

  Hidaea and Aeloryn sat slumped, foreheads slick with sweat, spirit nearly spent.

  YiChen lowered Elena gently.

  Her knees gave way—he caught her before she fell.

  “Are you hurt?” His voice was low, steady.

  Elena shook her head, gaze stubborn yet hazed.

  “…I’m fine. Thank you.”

  YiChen released her, straightened.

  “As long as you’re unharmed.”

  ChengYu sneaked a glance, lips twitching.

  Over. The pretty medic’s already fallen for him.

  YiChen’s face betrayed nothing, though his eyes caught the faint flush on Elena’s cheeks.

  A thought flickered—strain of fusion? flying debris?—

  but he pushed it aside.

  He gave a curt order:

  “Stay here. Guard them. I’ll bring the others up.”

  Elena froze.

  Something hollowed her chest as he turned away—

  a strange emptiness,

  as if her heart had been stolen mid-beat.

  ?

  YiChen had held fusion only a few dozen seconds at the valley floor.

  On the climb back he disengaged, switching to Step-Stones instead.

  Efficient—seven meters a blink, low drain, fast.

  He swallowed a spirit pill as he descended, scanning the slope.

  Soon he saw the rest of the squad already climbing—intact.

  Relief loosened the knot in his chest.

  And then—

  He froze.

  Above, near the camp, a faint silver glow flickered.

  Subtle.

  Wrong.

  His pulse spiked.

  Not good.

  Step-Stone flared underfoot—he shot upward, forest blurring past.

  I should never have left him alone.

  Even guarding the wounded—night was still deep, dangers everywhere.

  The clash of titans had drowned every other sound.

  If something had struck at ChengYu—he would never have known.

  His jaw clenched. Fusion burst once more.

  Black lightning tore across the slope.

  “Please… let him be safe.”

  Every stride thundered like a vow.