The rain had begun to fall at some unknown point.
Grey, heavy, and carrying the scent of rust and scorched earth, it poured down from the shattered sky as if trying to wash away the entirety of the Amber Corridor.
Rainwater mixed with blood, forming dark red streams between the streets and alleys, washing over the stiff fingers of Horned Demon soldiers and soaking the totem tattoos on the chests of young Orcs.
Laine was quietly giving orders to the civilians and remaining troops, his voice raspy yet orderly.
“Minion Warlocks, prioritize treating the severely wounded. The Succubus unit is to count the remaining poison gas bombs to prevent secondary contamination. The Orcs are responsible for moving the bodies to the entrance of the east alley… Remember, regardless of whether they were friend or foe, the dead must have their faces covered.”
A crimson glint flickered in his eyes as his emotional perception spread out like a fine net, precisely locating every faint heartbeat.
Xue Yin knelt in the slush, her hands buried deep in the filth.
She didn’t use magic; she simply used those slender hands to dig, handful by handful.
Her nails were split and her knuckles were raw.
Blood mixed into the mud only to be diluted by the rain.
She dug a pit for the Horned Demon blacksmith, covered the Succubus girl with earth, and closed the eyes of a Minion Warlock who had died still looking toward the sky.
With every person she buried, she silently recited their name in her heart — not as a prayer, but as a remembrance.
She whispered something under her breath as she placed the last handful of soil over the blacksmith’s face.
No one spoke.
No one dared to persuade her to stop.
Only when Xue Yin moved close to Jin during her work would his right wing unconsciously unfurl slightly to shield her from the slanting rain.
Anyone could see that she was using this nearly self-destructive labor to suppress the regret and self-blame that was about to explode in her chest.
‘It’s all because of me,’ she thought, but Xue Yin didn’t say a single word.
Her cold starlight eyes were downcast, her wet silver hair clinging to her cheeks.
The silver halo at the tips of her ears grew dim in the rain.
She simply dug, buried, dug, and buried — as if by settling the corpses, she could somehow atone for her “sins.”
Jin stood in the ruins behind Xue Yin.
His wings were half-folded, and black flames rose from him, turning the rain into a foul white steam.
He no longer attacked, nor did he speak.
Occasionally, he would look down at his hands as if puzzled why they were stained with blood.
His hollow eyes had no focus, leaving only the most primitive “guardian instinct.”
Ailia’s snow-white nun’s habit had long since been stained a muddy brown.
Her hands were crossed over her chest, yet she still radiated a faint holy light.
She softly chanted a requiem prayer from the southern regions of Moon-glow Fortress, her voice gentle yet firm:
“Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,
Your bones shall sprout new buds;
Your blood shall water the flowers of freedom.
If the Gods remain silent, allow me to promise in Their stead —
Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten.”
Rainwater dripped down her flaxen-gold hair, mixing with tears as it slid over her Rose mark.
She no longer prayed that “God loves the world”; she only recited that “people deserve to be remembered.”
Laine walked to Xue Yin’s side, his wine-red hair soaked through.
“Don’t blame yourself too much,” he said, his voice raspy but exceptionally clear.
“They didn’t die for you — they fought for themselves.”
” ‘The dead are gone forever, but the living must forge ahead.’ “
Laine reached out, gently pressing a hand onto her shoulder.
“The living cannot simply stand still, trapped in self-reproach and guilt. You need to carry their share and continue forward. That is the best consolation for the departed.”
Xue Yin closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the air thick with blood and rain.
When she opened them again, her cold starlight eyes were still filled with sorrow, but they held a new sense of determination.
At that moment, the rain stopped.
It didn’t taper off; it ceased abruptly.
With the ruins as the center, all the rain within a radius of 100 meters suddenly suspended in mid-air — every drop frozen in the sky like billions of translucent beads of blood.
The three of them, excluding Jin, spun around.
A figure was walking toward them with slow steps.
She wore a tattered, blood-stained formal dress and held a vintage lace parasol.
Her long grey hair was disheveled, and her face was as pale as paper, though her lips were as crimson as blood.
Most striking was her lower abdomen — a pink Demon Rose mark glowed steadily, standing out through her clothes like a lighthouse in the misty rain.
It was the mark of a magical girl, yet her mark was brighter and more fierce than Xue Yin’s, as if burning with some kind of morbid pleasure.
But no one focused on her clothes — because everyone’s gaze was seized by the abnormality surrounding her.
With every step she took, the bluestone beneath her feet cracked silently.
With every breath she drew, the suspended raindrops dipped inward, as if being sucked in by an invisible, giant mouth.
Her right eye was pure black, devoid of a pupil, a void that swallowed all light.
Her left eye was a mechanical prosthetic, its source-crystal light flickering like a snake’s tongue.
The air solidified instantly, becoming so viscous it was suffocating.
Laine’s pupils shrank, and his body tensed instinctively.
His muscles were like a fully drawn bowstring, yet he realized with horror that it was incredibly difficult to even lift a finger.
The light of the crucifix in Ailia’s hand flashed violently.
She gritted her teeth, trying to prop up a holy light barrier, but she felt as if she were at the bottom of the deep sea, where even breathing felt as heavy as iron rust.
Jin sensed the aura of danger.
The black wings on his back gave a sudden flap, and violent black flames rose instantly, as if he would tear this intruder apart in the next second.
“Jin, don’t move yet.”
Xue Yin looked at the newcomer warily, sensing how exhausted everyone was after the great battle.
“Let’s hear what this person wants.”
Jin’s movements froze.
With Xue Yin’s palm pressed against his shoulder, he was like a cat grabbed by the scruff of the neck.
He let out an unwilling growl, and the black flames around him retracted into his body with a sense of grievance.
“Oh dear, this rain really came at the wrong time. I could have stayed hidden and never appeared, as if I never existed,” she suddenly spoke, her voice as sweet and syrupy as honey.
“Like watching a wonderful holographic film — quietly admiring, never disturbing.”
She tilted her head, a nearly intoxicated expression on her face.
“But you all… you were truly magnificent.”
“I was laughing when that Horned Demon grabbed the enemy’s leg and shouted for his brother to deliver the finishing blow. I was clapping when the Orc roared ‘burn them’ even with a dagger in his spine. And the moment that little Imp jumped onto the enemy’s back to light the torch — “
She took a deep breath, as if savoring fine wine, ” — I almost cried.”
She held her parasol, allowing the field of deathly silence around her to expand.
“So I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, truly, I couldn’t resist.”
A flash of nearly sincere excitement crossed her eyes.
“This is your reward — to let you know that someone saw your struggle, your dignity, and your ridiculous yet beautiful resistance.”
“So wonderful,” she giggled.
“I thought you would be like other expendables, crying for mercy and kneeling as you waited for death. But the result?”
“You won! You actually won! 800 elites, three forbidden machines from the Magic Association, and even the Archbishop was turned to ash… Tsk tsk, this scene was even more delicious than I anticipated.”
A veteran Horned Demon soldier rushed out from the shadows of a broken wall behind her, swinging half an axe and roaring with all his strength, “Enough with the tricks!”
“Wait!” Xue Yin cried out, knowing the gap in strength, wanting to stop the veteran.
But it was too late.
The veteran reached within five paces of her when his body suddenly froze.
He wasn’t crushed, nor was he burned.
Instead, he weathered away in an instant.
From skin to muscle, and then to bone, it was as if he had experienced a thousand years of time’s erosion.
Then, with a *clatter*, he crumbled into a cloud of dust.
“Oh, don’t be so rude.”
She tilted her head and looked at Jin, licking a drop of blood that had splattered onto her fingertip.
“After all, I’m just an audience member who wants to give this performance a perfect score.
If that half-blood Fallen Angel’s bloodline went berserk and forced me onto the stage, I wouldn’t be able to keep my VIP seat.”
She suddenly pointed to the corpses littering the ground, her voice turning abruptly excited.
“Look! How beautiful! The Horned Demon’s axe buried in the Inquisitor’s skull, the Orc’s spear piercing the Shadowblade Guard’s lungs, the scorched flesh of the Imp stuck to the enemy’s back — this is reality! This is what it means to be alive!”
She turned to Xue Yin, her smile innocent yet cruel.
“Thank you, Lady Xue Yin. If you hadn’t gone on stage to sing, how could I have drawn such a feast? So much blood, so many wails… I’m almost moved to tears.”
She covered her mouth and giggled, but there was no hint of tears in her eyes.
“Especially your apprentice — the moment the Fallen Angel killed the Archbishop, it was fantastic!”
“You were the one who drew the armies of the Human Realm here?!” Xue Yin could no longer hold back her inner rage.
“Do you have any idea how many people on both sides died in this battle?!”
“Oh, don’t be like that ~ I’m so scared. Let’s all calm down and get along peacefully and amicably, okay?” She blinked, her right eye as void as an abyss.
She took a step back, her form beginning to blur.
“I want to watch you struggle. I want to see you crawl out of desperation time and time again, only to be crushed by a greater despair, until you also become a corpse on the ground, or go even more insane than I have. That way, you’ll remember forever — happiness leads to destruction. The more you want to protect this warmth, the more the world will tear it apart for you to see.”
She turned around and walked into the suspended rain under her parasol, her voice drifting back with the wind, carrying a morbid delight.
“Stay alive, okay? I’m super excited for your next performance ♡”
As her voice faded, the suspended raindrops crashed to the ground.
The wind blew again, and the air resumed its flow.
It was as if that zone of death just now had been nothing more than a near-death hallucination.
Xue Yin stood in place, her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
This time, she no longer blamed herself.
She only felt a cold fury burning from the depths of her heart —
Someone had turned their suffering into entertainment.
Jin remained in his posture, half-kneeling behind Xue Yin.
But whenever her body trembled slightly with anger, his tattered black wings would unconsciously tuck in tighter, acting like a silent rampart to isolate her from this cruel world.
Laine leaned against a broken wall, gasping for air.
His wine-red hair was soaked and clinging to his forehead.
The moment that terrifying pressure vanished, he instinctively breathed a sigh of relief.
But immediately after, that relief turned into a heavy weight of lead sinking into his heart.
His emotional perception was still screaming in warning — what that woman had left behind wasn’t fear, but a deeper, slow-seeping malice like venom.
He looked at the mess on the ground and the surviving remnants of his troops, a flash of deep self-loathing crossing his eyes.
At that moment, a warm hand gently covered his cold one.
Ailia didn’t speak.
She simply leaned slowly against his chest, resting her forehead against Laine.
She felt this man’s current fragility and whispered a prayer.
Her voice was no longer gentle, but carried a plea that was almost broken: “May there still be light in the hearts of men.”
The rain began to fall again.
On the ruins of the Amber Corridor, the blood was not yet dry, and the debts had not yet been paid.
But a new shadow had already begun to weave its web amid the laughter — she didn’t kill because what she wanted was the prolonged suffering of this world, proving that her choice was the correct one.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.