"Ain! Protect her," Man anded, stepping in front of the two children without hesitation. Beside her, Nemo worked diligently to craft a barrier, isoting the chaos.

  Outside the barrier, Matthew and An stood frozen in dread, their faces pale, while the Wilderwood Mansion’s guards and aides braced themselves around them, ons drawn but hands trembling.

  [Lumin ae’lorin, manai veren umya?]

  Man began weaving her magic circle, steady and precise. O was ready, she could stop this disaster from spiraling out of trol. But everyone knew why things hadn't exploded into full-blown camity just yet.

  [Manai theran sai lorin? Ai’ven tae lena, ai selian yai, na’fin cir anai, na’maer na'thel.]

  Burn hadn’t stormed into Inkia guns bzing because he knew better. Charging in recklessly would only let the demon lord slip through their fingers. On the flip side, the demon lord hadn’t fled yet because he still had threads to pull in Inkia. One of those threads, Man suspected, was Bir.

  He’d called Bir his greatest masterpiece. Sure, it could’ve been an eborate bluff—but what if it wasn’t? What if Bir really was his magnum opus? Then, of course, this moment was all too perfect. A stroke of genius: using his "masterpiece" to eliminate Man ond for all.

  It added up, didn’t it? Lo and Nahwu had been snatched away, separating Man from Burn, isoted and vulnerable. Burn would be kept at arm’s length, uo reach her in time. And now, here she was—alone, save for a couple of kids and a ragtag barrier—pying defense against a demon lord’s vea.

  But would she let him pull the strings again? Manipute events like a smug pywright direg his final aot a bsp;

  [Faein lorian thaesel, ai’veher, na’lumihen, te yamin ai’seliaher?]

  From the shadows beh Man’s feet, grotesque hands began to cw their way iehey looked as if they’d crawled straight out of hell—pitch bd oozing with a tar-like substahat dripped and spttered onto the ground, sizzling where it he stench was overp, a mix of rot and sulfur, g at her senses like a living thing.

  The hands moved with terrifying purpose, their spindly, malformed fingers snaking toward her legs and limbs. The first icy grip ed around her ankle, pulling with a strength that threateo topple her.

  Then came another, and another—hands grasping her wrists, her arms, her waist, each more repulsive tha. They tugged and yaheir touch cold, slimy, aless.

  Above her, the bound hands riddled with eyes began to stir, the grotesque orbs darting wildly in every dire. The of light that held them in pce flickered and cracked, thin lines spidering across its surface.

  It wasn’t broke, but its resilience was faltering with every passing sed. The giant hands thrashed violently, their movements causing a low rumble that reverberated through the ground.

  Man gritted her teeth, refusing to let the grotesque assault distract her. The magic circle beh her hands was almost plete, glowing faintly as her mana flowed into its intricate patterns.

  [Sena soliel tae’narn, halian sera loras ai’theniel!]

  CRACK.

  The of light shattered—splintering intments as darkness surged forward, swallowing everything in its grasp. But just as it seemed to e her, golden fire erupted from within, fierd unyielding, burning away every trace of corruption it could reach.

  “All that preparation, and that’s it?” she voice from the abyss, dripping with mockery.

  The taunt hung in the air for barely a heartbeat before the fragments of the shattered twisted midair, transf into thousands—no, tens of thousands—of glinting needles.

  Stab.

  Stab-stab-stab-stab-stab-stab!

  A low, guttural growl echoed through the void, a sound that reverberated through Man’s very bones. Yet even as the demon lord’s agony filled the space, her sharp mind caught a detail that made her stomach turn.

  Something was definitely off. This spell was supposed to strip him of most of his power—just like it had doo the first demon lord five turies ago. But no, apparently this one didn’t get the memo.

  Her voice, cold and cutting, rang out: “You’re not the demon lord.”

  Not him. Not the one who orchestrated this chaos. A decoy? A puppet? No. That had been the demon lord earlier—his presenmistakable. So, when had this ged? When had he switched pces?

  “Caliburn,” she whispered, her posure crag.

  It hit her like a thundercp. Bir was the distra. Lo and Nahwu—they were the real targets.

  The low growl twisted, rumbling into cruel, delighted ughter.

  STAB!

  Man barely turned in time to see the dark tendrils flying through her.

  “No!” Yvain’s voice cut through the chaos as he lunged forward. But he was too te.

  Man’s eyes widened as she looked doing hole pierced her chest, bck strings writhing through the wound like living shadows.

  “Guess it was worth it,” came the demon lord’s voice, slick with mock amusement, “to toss away my masterpied both of my hands here. Just like your husband tossed away his arm.”

  He chuckled, swallowing down blood clot somewhere, with hands petrified, turning into crumbling ashes from the holy judgement. “You should’ve known, inal Saint: I am not the first demon lord.”

  Man’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a decoy. It was him. The real him.

  “It… wasn’t me!” Bir choked out, her voice breaking uhe strain. “It flew out of me, but it wasn’t… me!”

  Man dropped to her knees, blood spilling from her mouth, staining the grouh her.

  “Too bad I ’t stay to enjoy the spectacle of your death,” the demon lord sneered, his voice brimming with mock pity. “Your husband’s waiting, after all. I’ve prepared a lovely little surprise for him.”

  His presence began to fade, but not before Bir screamed—a soul-shattering cry of agony. She vulsed, writhing as if her body was tearing itself apart from the ihe curse leaving her now to punch a hole through Man was no exit—it was more like being fyed alive from within. Withdrawal syndrome.

  Yvain caught her as she colpsed, his arms steady even as panic cwed at his features. Though he had no holy energy to call upon, he cast healing magic after healing magic, desperate to hold her together. “Stay with me, Yhness. Stay with me!”

  Man’s vision blurred as blood poured from her mouth, the children’s struggle painting a fractured picture before her eyes.

  “Give up,” the demon lord’s voice coiled in the air, dark and cold as the void itself. “Without my influence, she’ll never trol her soul. Isn’t that also true of you, Saint?”

  With that, the darkness spiraled into itself, shrinking smaller and smaller until it vanished pletely, leaving silen its wake.