“Not bad for a hero. That pampered young master can’t hold a candle to you. It’ll be an honor for those who fight alongside you in the future.”
“You old coot, you lost—keep your mouth shut.”
To claim there was no bond between teacher and student would be a lie. But did Xuefei truly feel grateful toward him? Hardly.
Later, Klaus helped Xuefei wipe out every last gang member with ease, allowing her to return safely to her mother’s side. In the process, they uncovered countless gang hideouts, filthy underground dealings, and human trafficking rings. It was during that time they rescued Leia from the clutches of a notorious drug lord.
At the same time, Xuefei and Klaus mastered a wealth of combat techniques and instincts. She was a genius, but Klaus—the old man—was no half-baked “teacher” when it came to instruction.
In the end, Xuefei defeated him in her “graduation exam.”
Had her memories ended there, she might have retained a fairly positive impression of Klaus.
But then came the official formation of the Hero Party. Human elites like Okate, Leia, and Laer joined one after another. Xuefei’s status as the Hero took root in the Human World, earning her initial prestige—and soon, outright worship from the people. It was then that Klaus vanished without a trace. Even when Xuefei personally asked the King, he had no idea where the old man had gone. Just as she began to think he’d passed from the world, word arrived that he was off touring and vacationing across various countries.
The old man never reappeared until the very end. Their last encounter had been that “graduation exam” battle.
In truth, Xuefei harbored deep resentment toward Klaus, though she had no real reason for it. Besides, his existence probably hadn’t saved a single extra life.
The Camiran Continent’s time had been reset. Yet the pocket watches marking time between planes showed no malfunction. Everyone continued dancing in the shackles of fate, forever unable to break free.
Her consciousness snapped back to reality after just 0.5 seconds—a mere sliver amid the battlefield’s chaos. Xuefei saw white geometric polygons spreading beneath Klaus’s feet, silver-white magic fragments rising into the air. She knew they were activating a teleportation spell.
Moti spat up blood. Rakudo collapsed, gasping for breath. They had lost all will to fight.
Stop them? With just this old man? Fat chance.
“This old codger’s too set in his ways for fighting… but I can still haggle a deal.”
“I won’t kill you, Klaus. I don’t know what you’re after, but if it touches the Demon Race, I’ll make your deaths ugly.”
Klaus stroked his chin knowingly. He kept his face meticulously groomed, so no whiskers betrayed his age. The sunglasses hid his emotions well.
As the magic fragments ascended, the three figures began to fade—the sign of a successful teleportation array. Klaus puzzled over why Xuefei was giving them this leeway instead of striking them down on the spot. Then he saw it: those monstrous scarlet pupils glaring from the pale face of that petite girl…
He smiled and spoke, his magnetic voice lingering on each word:
“Since Miss Evil Dragon has granted me this chance, this old codger must offer intelligence in return.”
“The ‘Ice Holy Key’—seal of chaos, key to Camiran, gateway to the abyss and the profound bottomless pit. It is the embodiment of despair… and the lighthouse that lights the path ahead…”
“What riddle is this?”
“Find it, and you’ll understand, Miss. Why the Gods refuse to abandon the Camiran Continent—that is our purpose.”
With those final words, Moti thudded to the ground. The teleportation array activated fully, and the Hero Party vanished entirely.
~~~
Black smoke billowed everywhere. A few crows cut through the stinging charred stench and choking dust. All that met the eye was destruction and ruin.
The creatures of this world endlessly waged their conflicts, like beasts trapped in cages, ripping into one another’s flesh. Victors feasted on succulent meat; the defeated ended in agonized screams. War turned all things into boundless sorrow.
Xuefei stood in the street, the devastation stretching endlessly before her. She could have taken wing to survey the city’s former shape, but instead she folded her wings tight and stood frozen in place.
She had seen it.
A player lost in the chessboard paid no heed to the surroundings—let alone amid a battlefield driven by raw instinct.
“Milady, can they be saved? Is the war over?”
“Yes.”
It was a female elf, her hair somewhat disheveled.
She stroked her swollen, heavy belly, her face etched with anxiety. Beneath the dust smudging her profile, her beauty appeared somewhat pale, and the scrape on her shoulder was still oozing blood.
Even so, she had managed to settle the elves she had rescued in the city’s safe plazas. With the aid of the Winter Queen’s army, they had pitched camps there.
“Lady Xuefei, could you describe the enemy’s exact appearance?”
“Mm…”
“We truly appreciate your help. Ever since Elf Queen went missing, our intelligence network and efficiency have taken a hit. Are you injured?”
It was an elven soldier speaking.
She had a tall, slender build, her delicate frame burdened by heavy armor that made even her movements stiff and laborious. When she dragged her body over to Xuefei with a notebook in hand, Xuefei almost mistook her for a new enemy.
“Oh, right—I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m from Her Majesty the Queen’s direct forces. You can call me Ailin.”
“I’m Xuefei.”
“Yes, Her Majesty the Queen already mentioned your name. Without you, we might have had fewer than thirty percent survivors. Thanks to you, Lady Xuefei, sixty percent of our elves made it out alive!”
Ailin clearly approved of Xuefei’s accomplishments.
Xuefei said nothing. Even with so many people gathered around her, she remained dazed, staring up at the overcast sky.
A few minutes later, she turned to Ailin, who was still waiting patiently at her side.
“If I may ask, how many people lived in this city?”
“Eight hundred and ninety thousand elves…”
“So that means at least a hundred and fifty thousand elves died in the explosion?”
“Actually, the blast was mostly concentrated in the main districts. The actual death toll… was only fifty thousand.”
“Fifty thousand…?”
Xuefei gave a bitter smile—the only expression she’d shown in the last few minutes. She shifted her gaze to the elf, who was lost in admiration of Xuefei’s soft, endearing figure. Even so, Ailin’s exhaustion was plain to see.
“Ailin, do you know where they went after they died?”
“It’s said that some of their souls become gods, while others reincarnate as demons?” Ailin rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
“Mm, but the vast majority transform into the Dark Filth. But what happens to those souls? Which world do they go to? What will their lives be like?”
“Ah… well, Lady Xuefei, I’m afraid no one knows the answer to that. Souls are invisible, after all—no one can say for sure where they end up. That’s tied to ‘fate’ itself.”
“I… can see them…” Xuefei’s trembling voice was barely audible.
Atop the ruins, pitch-black auras writhed ferociously, like formless clouds of smoke—or perhaps just the part that Xuefei could perceive, now claiming the city.
They hadn’t dissipated into nothing. Instead, they swirled around Xuefei, gleefully dancing a ballet.
