Severing

Cough, cough… it hurts.

Vivian gritted her teeth, unable even to wipe the blood trickling down the corner of her lips.

So strong!

Stronger than I ever imagined!

For an instant, she felt as though she had been pulled back to that dreadful day—the day Evernight City fell.

That day too, Lucia had appeared before her like a divine angel descending from the heavens.

But now, something on Vivian’s body began to heat faintly.

She reached for it—and to her surprise, the wing-shaped ornament Lucia had once given her was glowing softly.

“What… is this?”

Vivian froze in momentary distraction, but she quickly forced her focus back to the battle before her.

A sharp, guttural cry tore through the air.

Molly did not retreat in the face of “Lucia.”

Instead, she let out a furious screech, her six wings unfurling wide behind her as her entire body transformed into a streak of azure lightning that lunged from the flank toward the “angel,” claws aiming straight for the arm that held the sword!

The “angel” didn’t even glance back.

Her left arm moved in an almost lazy motion—and a diamond-shaped barrier of pure Holy Light materialized instantly before her.

A deafening crack echoed.

Molly’s claws slammed into the shield, only to be violently repelled.

The force sent a tremor through her chest, blood surging, until she spat a mouthful of scarlet.

From every direction, Sylvester’s shadow spears shot toward the “angel,” yet each one dissolved harmlessly against the flowing veil of radiant Light that encased her form.

Total suppression.

This “angel,” empowered by the [Ring of Decree], possessed strength beyond comprehension—comparable to a Demon Lord at their absolute peak.

Her cold precision, tireless efficiency, and perfectly countering Holy Light affinity left the three Demon Lords utterly overwhelmed.

They could barely defend themselves, let alone counterattack.

“Hahaha! Yes! Just like that! Kill them!”

Charles was beside himself with excitement, flailing his arms like a spectator watching an action masterpiece.

He even barked out instructions, “Attack the flying one! Yes! Use [Holy Light Bind]! Oh—so close!”

The tide of battle collapsed into desperate imbalance.

The three Demon Lords could no longer fight on equal terms—not in this place.

Their power was suppressed.

The “angel” fought under the full blessing of Holy Light.

Even with three against one, the odds were hopeless.

They were forced into defensive maneuvers—dodging, parrying, every clash consuming enormous mana and burning their bodies with holy corrosion.

Not a heartbeat could be wasted, not a thought relaxed, lest a single strike split them in two.

Vivian’s injuries were severe.

Sylvester’s shadows were continually purified.

Molly’s once-unequaled speed was entirely suppressed.

At this rate, forget assassination—they might not even leave this place alive.

I have to think of something…

Vivian’s mind raced.

Her gaze locked onto Charles—the gloating, oblivious fool—and particularly onto the still-glowing [Ring of Decree] on his hand.

That’s it.

The source of everything—the angel, the empowerment—it all stemmed from that ring.

And maybe… Lucia’s soul was sealed within it.

If so, breaking or seizing that ring might just reverse everything.

A reckless plan took form in her mind in an instant.

She swung her greatsword to deflect another blow from the “angel,” using the recoil to retreat.

Through a psychic scream, she sent a message to her allies.

“Sylvester! Molly! No matter what it takes—give me one fleeting chance! The target is that ring!”

No hesitation.

No questions.

In a life-and-death crisis, both Demon Lords responded immediately.

A thunderous cry erupted from Molly’s throat.

Her six wings flared to their limit, muscles coiling for an explosive burst of strength.

She no longer dodged.

Instead, she hurled herself head-on at the “angel,” a suicidal charge bursting with every ounce of speed she had left.

Razor winds and wing-sheaths poured outward like a raging storm, forcing the “angel” to shift her full attention toward her.

A deep roar followed.

Sylvester’s shadows boiled violently, igniting his very essence.

Dozens of shadow chains, dark and solid as iron, burst from the ground—not to attack, but to bind.

Layer upon layer they wrapped tight around the “angel’s” limbs like a living web, holding her down even if only for an instant.

And in that instant, her movements faltered—a brief hesitation, a stutter in divine grace.

Even she required a moment to counter such reckless, desperate obstruction.

Now!

Vivian’s eyes flashed with cold resolve.

She poured every drop of her Evernight mana into her sword.

The cracks webbing its blade mended as roiling darkness surged to fill them.

Flames black as the void rose, devouring all light that dared to touch them.

“[End of Evernight]!”

Her roar ripped through the hall.

Her figure blurred into a streak of shadowed fire, tearing through space like a falling black star.

She did not rush the “angel.”

Instead, she streaked straight toward Charles, who was still standing to the side—watching.

“What?!”

Charles’s smile froze.

He had never expected her to strike him under the “angel’s” suppression.

He stumbled backward instinctively, fumbling to activate the [Ring of Decree] again.

That misstep was exactly what Vivian had anticipated.

After all, he was just a player.

Someone accustomed to the false security of game mechanics.

He thought summoning the angel meant he could hold their aggro, that they’d obediently attack his minion first.

But this was no game.

There was no such rule as “you must attack the taunting unit.”

Their true target had always been Charles.

He realized it too late.

Vivian struck with every ounce of her strength and speed—timing, precision, and fury united into one blow.

A sharp tear cut through the air.

Her black-flamed sword pierced directly through his radiant barrier, parting it like wet paper, and sliced cleanly through his right wrist.

There was no resistance.

Like a hot blade through butter.

“Ah—Aaaahhhh!”

Charles’s scream broke high and shrill as blood fountained from the stump.

His hand—along with the glittering [Ring of Decree]—spun through the air.

Before it even hit the ground, Vivian extended her hand in uncanny reflex and caught both the severed hand and the ring midair.

And at that very moment—

The “angel,” still fighting Sylvester and Molly, suddenly convulsed.

The immense Holy Light that had been forcibly channeled into her flickered and receded like a tide.

The golden flames in her eyes dimmed, then died, replaced once again by hollow gray voids.

Her movements slowed—then halted entirely.