Inside the second orange dome, Cale of Varics was growing irritated.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Everything had been orchestrated—the timing, the attacks, even the illusion of control. The Jujisns had walked straight into his web, just as he expected. Predictable. Their arrogance always made them reckless. Everyone else inside the dome sat motionless, suspended their consciousness anchored to silence by divine construct. Yet those two—the woman with golden eyes and the man with the bleeding sigils—sat there talking. Conversing like this was a casual debate instead of a divine snare.

He gritted his teeth. This was problematic.

The artifact—the Yoriddle—should have bound them both. It wasn't merely a relic; it was a divine instrument, forged from a Supreme's own tongue. His goddess Familiane, the Veiled Luminara herself had placed it in his hands when he entered the tower, and she had whispered its ability of domination. And yet… here they were. Free. Talking.

He clenched his jaw. "Impossible," he muttered under his breath.

His eyes flicked between them. The Jujisn of Jafar—the so-called Blood Prince—was observing, calculating. Cale could feel it. Even if this one wasn't Jafar himself, that bloodline ran deep.

The other one—her—was worse. The Jujisn of Vari. She radiated gold, divinity masquerading as mortal defiance. Every time she exhaled, the air rippled. And when she spoke, the artifact's runes trembled.

It took everything Cale had not to flinch.

The Yoriddle should have them sealed. Why aren't they sealed?

He cast a glance toward the upper dome wall—where the artifact's script burned faintly in the orange haze. Each rune corresponded to a consciousness it was binding. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Yet two of them flickered.

It's like they're aware of the binding. Resisting it. Or worse—rewriting it.

He took a slow breath, regaining composure. Fine. He still had time. He didn't need to use the Yoriddle for its true purpose. Their bodies were outside the dome anyway—tethered to their souls by fragile strings. All he had to do was wait for Shadow to do his part. Once that was done, these Jujisn would have no physical vessels to return to.

And then, he'd win. He'd prove that even a "fallen elf" could shape destiny in the presence of gods.

He looked up toward the dome's ceiling, irritation twitching in his jaw. "So where the hell are you, Shadow?" he muttered.

His fingers tightened around the rune-carved book that served as the artifact's stabilizer. The pages shimmered faintly. With a Supreme's interference, this should have gone smoother.

He took one last breath, forcing his smile back into place. The false calm of a scholar addressing his class. The audience remained frozen in their seats.

"Pathetic," Cale murmured, staring at North and Destiny. "You think you're exceptions. But even exceptions get erased when the story ends."

He adjusted the runes beneath his palm. The Yoriddle pulsed once—then twice—its dormant power beginning to hum again.

If Shadow didn't come through, he'd have to do it himself.

Destiny's pulse spiked.

That feeling—that venom in her soul—she hadn't felt it since Vari unleashed her golden corruption across the region.

Her head snapped upward.

"Vari?" she whispered, barely audible. The faint pressure in her chest grew heavier. But why now?

Her golden eyes darted toward North.

And there he was—sitting there like a toddler trying to start a fire with his palms, eyebrows knitted in exaggerated focus.

She sighed so hard it came out as a hiss.

They didn't have a plan.

They didn't have anything.

And yet here they were—trapped behind divine bindings, sitting in neat little desks like students about to take a test neither of them studied for.

Brilliant.

But the real question wasn't why they were stuck—it was why he hadn't killed them yet.

That elf—Cale—had stopped his grandstanding a while ago. He was holding that book like it was a heart he didn't dare drop. Destiny could feel the runic energy pulsing from it. It was powerful. Ancient. Definitely Supreme-touched.

If that was the artifact controlling this dome, then stealing it was their only way out.

Problem: they couldn't move anything below the waist, their aura was suppressed, and even their speech felt throttled by invisible threads.

Crisper and Jamal were in the same shape—barely twitching, but still alive. Still present.

That in itself told Destiny everything she needed to know:

It was their bloodlines keeping them tethered.

The Supreme lineage in her, and the King's curse inside North, both gave them a sliver of resistance to this kind of power.

Earned plot armor, she thought bitterly. At least it was good for something.

"Say something?" North's voice broke her thoughts.

"Just thinking," she said flatly. "How's the eyes going?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Eh… fluctuations. But besides instinct, I'm not sure what the hell I'm looking at."

Of course not, she thought. He could weaponize his blood, but couldn't tell a rune from graffiti.

"Tell me what you see," she said. "I'll help you break it down."

He blinked. "How would—"

"I went to school, dumbass," she cut in. "And I've been doing this way longer than you."

He flinched. "Okay, okay, don't yell."

"You piss me off," she muttered.

"Mutual."

Before she could roll her eyes, she noticed Cale staring straight at them.

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.

Destiny could feel the frustration bleeding off him like heat. He was waiting for something. Or someone.

"Yeah," she whispered under her breath. "You can't do anything, can you?"

Not yet, at least. But that smug expression was starting to slip, and that told her something important—whatever he was waiting for, it wasn't going according to plan.

"Alright," she said, flicking her eyes toward North. "Let's hear it. What do the eyes say?"

He frowned, focusing again, whispering descriptions of what he saw—fragments of sigils, threads of power, runes tied to thought and emotion instead of will. It was like listening to a drunk mathematician describe poetry, but Destiny started piecing it together.

If she was right—and she usually was—then this dome wasn't suppressing them directly. It was reflecting their own aura back inward, turning their strength into paralysis. That was why lesser beings were completely frozen, but she and North could still talk.

Meaning if they could reverse the feedback—

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"—we can move again," she whispered.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the room, Jamal tapped his fingers against the desk, the sound muted under the hum of divine silence.

Crisper's eyes darted between him, and the elf at the front. Ria—sitting gracefully beside them—was just smiling. Watching. Like this was all part of a joke she'd heard before.

It was unnerving.

The thousands of suspended souls remained in place, frozen in silence, waiting for a show that clearly had run into technical difficulties.

Cale's grip on the Yoriddle book tightened, his voice sharp with barely suppressed fury.

"What the hell is Shadow doing?!" he hissed.

———

Shadow thought the plan was simple. Six of them would enter the city and kill the Jujisns.

He was a native, though not of Curtenail. On paper, the mission sounded perfect—trap the Jujisn inside the dome by using their companions as leverage. Since Jujisn were fragments of higher beings, they'd naturally rush in to save their friends, and once they did—bam. Their souls would be trapped inside while their bodies remained outside, defenseless.

Easy, right?

So how did three of them die in a damn club fight?

Especially with Jijten there—his curved sword alone was supposed to be enough to level an army. Then Zekka died going straight for the Blood Prince, which should've made Shadow more cautious.

Now he was locked in combat with this beautiful but infuriating woman.

Her hair, a cascade of teal and white, rippled like living fire—each strand catching the light as streaks of violet and ember flared through it. Her crimson eyes burned like fractured stars, brilliant and merciless, set against skin lined with faint indigo markings that pulsed with every surge of power. A crown of molten red coral framed her head. Her armor, an elegant mesh of silver and deep blue, molded to her form as though the sea itself had sculpted it in reverence.

She raised her hand, and from that coral crown and armor's lattice, spikes of red and green coral erupted—shimmering like jewels as they launched toward him in precise, deadly volleys. Each impact shattered the air, filling the battlefield with the sound of splintering crystal and roaring tide.

Everything was going sideways, but he still believed he could take her.

Tabia stared at the black figure—spikes bristling along its back, red veins pulsing like molten ink. The Captain had been right, as always; his first hunch had landed, which meant his second probably had too, given the new aura that had just seeped into the dome. That, however, wasn't her concern. Her orders were simple: eliminate the threat. The Captain would hold his own—he always did.

"Time to end this, vermin," she said, voice flat and cold.

"Hey—I'm not a vermin! And that's such an Outlander insult. Ew. I'm a—"

A jagged pillar of coral detonated beneath him. "Yeep!" he yelled as he folded into a tight black ball and tumbled down the slick flank of the spike, scraping stone and scattering dust as he went.

Tabia's coral armor shimmered as she stepped forward, her eyes hardening like polished garnet. A ripple of pressure followed the movement—then the street erupted.

From the cracks in the ground, coral spires burst outward in a jagged bloom, spiraling in hues of red and green. Each spike split the air, tearing through storefronts and scattering glowing dust like embers. The fragments bent, curved, and reformed at her gesture, reshaping into spears that twisted in midflight before stabbing at the darting silhouette ahead.

Shadow moved like smoke—one moment a streak, the next a blur of impact and recoil. He dashed along walls and shattered glass, the crimson lines on his back flaring like circuitry. A spinning kick threw up a wave of force that shattered the nearest coral shards, and he vanished again, reappearing behind her in a streak of red light and impact dust.

She countered instantly. The ground split and a bloom of coral blades rose in a wide arc, slicing through the afterimage he left behind. His laughter echoed from the rooftops as he vaulted upward, bouncing between walls.

They clashed through the district—coral spears lancing from alleys, black trails cutting through air like strokes of ink. She drove him into a shopfront; the glass burst outward in a spray of color, and they tumbled through shelves. He spun on all fours, sliding backward, hands sparking crimson.

She extended a palm. Red coral flared and detonated—he slipped beneath it, and dashed through the smoke, his fist colliding with her guard. The impact shook the street; shards of coral and asphalt rained down like glass rain.

A single beat of stillness.

Then both surged forward again.

The pavement gave way as they tore through it, plunging into the lower levels of the city—the tunnels and service ducts humming with Ryun energy. Coral light met crimson shadow as they hit the tunnel floor. The walls rippled with steam, milky water bursting into red and green arcs with every strike.

Every motion now was instinct—her spears of coral blooming in rapid bursts, his body flickering between shadows, a blur of impact and velocity.

The tunnel thundered with violence. White water rippled up the curved walls as their movements blurred. Tabia darted in first—her heel snapping up in a tight arc that shattered the air between them. Shadow blocked with his forearm, sliding back on his feet, claws grinding sparks from the stone. She followed instantly, driving her elbow toward his throat, pivoting, spinning, using her own coral as both weapon and momentum.

She fought like a tide—every movement measured yet fluid. The coral answered her will, blooming from her strikes in sudden bursts. Each palm strike or kick carried the shimmer of bioluminescent power. Scarlet and emerald beams erupted in bursts, slicing through the dim air and leaving molten streaks along the walls.

Shadow countered like a reflection. Every hit came with velocity; every dodge, a blur of afterimage. He dashed up the wall, vanished in black static, then spun—his body curling into a perfect sphere edged with red light. The ground screamed as he ricocheted off it, hitting Tabia's guard with bone-cracking speed.

She caught the hit with crossed arms, sliding back through the milky water, her boots carving twin furrows into the stone. He uncurled midair, landing lightly, eyes glowing a faint ruby under his hood.

She exhaled through her nose, flicked her wrists—and the next instant, hundreds of coral shards flared to life around her like a blooming flower. They hung for a fraction of a second, humming with Ryun energy, then she snapped her fingers. The shards shot forward, streaking like meteors.

Shadow sprinted into the barrage, spinning through them, deflecting beams with his claws and sliding beneath others. He leapt off a wall, dashed low, curled again—his spinning form smashing through the coral, scattering red and green fragments like fireworks.

They met in a violent exchange at the center of the tunnel—punch for punch, knee for knee. Her forearm clashed with his elbow, a shockwave flaring outward as steam hissed from cracked pipes. She drove a knee into his ribs, pivoted, and launched a beam of green coral energy at point-blank range. It blasted him through the wall into a smaller passageway, but before she could follow—he was gone, a black blur vanishing down the corridor.

Then he was everywhere.

The sound of impact bounced from every direction as he struck, vanished, and struck again—flickering through the shadows like a possessed bullet. She raised a coral barrier, deflecting one, two, then three hits before he finally caught her side and sent her tumbling through a half-collapsed wall.

Tabia landed in a crouch, wiping blood from her lip. Her smile widened. "Cute tricks," she murmured.

The coral around her shimmered, responding to her will. She spread her arms, palms glowing red.

The ground trembled.

Before Shadow could react, walls of coral erupted upward—massive, jagged sheets of crimson and emerald light slicing through the tunnel ceiling and up through the street above.

Shadow blinked, halting mid-step as the walls connected in a ring around them, closing in with a low, thrumming hum. "Huh?"

Every coral wall pulsed once—then again—the light condensing into a radiant core.

A red-green orb swirled at the center, spinning like a star being born, its surface alive with veins of Ryun energy.

Shadow's eyes widened as he looked up.

From beneath the orb, Tabia rose gracefully, her crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction, her hair flowing with the rhythm of her coral creation.

The area turned entirely red and green as she hovered there, smiling down at him, her voice dripping with smug amusement.

"Cornered you… vermin."

———

Across the fractured platforms near the heart of the first orange dome, two forces faced one another.

Neither had ever met. Neither had even known the other existed until this moment. It was one of those rare collisions in life—the kind where belief meets defiance, where ideals clash so absolutely that words become meaningless. Logic and reason fall away, leaving only instinct, conviction, and power.

There was only one language left to speak.

The blast tore through the central platform like a catastrophic tantrum—light, flame, and pressure shredding through air and structures alike. The shockwave rippled outward, fracturing the city's layers, scattering debris and frozen civilians like shattered glass statues.

A fiery aura met a white one in perfect collision—heat screaming against manic glee. The air warped under the strain, each pulse of power shaking the dome. Above, spectral reapers descended, blades drawn, carving paths through the air as they tried to contain the inferno. Their wings fanned wide before being consumed by the sheer intensity below.

Then another explosion—spiraling outward in a helix of fire and light—sent waves across the district. One platform cracked clean in half, sinking into the void below while still stuck in the dome.

At the center of the chaos, a figure hovered—burning incarnate.

Flames crawled over their body like living calligraphy, infernal script moving with each breath. The heat twisted the very space around them. Their eyes glowed a merciless red behind a demonic mask, the black and gold mantle they wore flickering like molten royalty—a king forged from ruin.

Across from them, poised and steady, stood a figure in white.

A hooded robe of seamless fabric draped over their form, untouched by the heat. A flowing white cape rippled in the energy storm, and from beneath their hood, locks whipped violently in the wind. A white blindfold concealed their eyes, marked only by the carved X that glowed faintly on their forehead.

They said nothing. They didn't need to.

Every movement, every breath, every pulse of aura was declaration enough. One burned to prove that love was a lie, a weakness that corrupted the strong.

The other stood to prove that love was the root of all strength—the power that outlasted every god and every grave.

And between those two truths, only violence could decide which one deserved to exist.

———

Cale felt the shift—a rumble deep within the core of the dome, like the heartbeat of some colossal beast stirring awake. His lips curled into a grin. Enough stalling. It was time.

He lifted the Yoriddle, its pages fluttering as if caught in an unseen wind. The runes along its spine pulsed violently, and when he spoke the command, the entire chamber erupted in blinding light.

The mute audience twitched. The walls trembled. Even the air began to peel, folding in on itself as the artifact's power surged outward.

"—shit!" Destiny hissed, instinctively trying to raise a golden barrier around herself and North.

North shielded his eyes, the crimson ring of his sigil half-flaring as he tried to focus. The light was unbearable—it wasn't illumination, it was revelation, and it stripped away everything not meant to be seen.

Cale stood at the center of it all, basking in the glow. His voice rang clear, echoing through the dome like a decree:

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, spreading his arms wide, his smile carved in manic triumph, "sorry for the delay."

The book's pages stopped turning. The light condensed around him, shaping symbols in the air—thousands of glowing threads weaving an intricate circle of Story.

"The official showing starts right now."

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.