Facing his first Devourer of Purity, Orion’s breath stilled.

  His eyes, locked on the figure of a valiant and ravishing Valkyrie, refused to blink.

  He couldn’t look away—not out of desire, but because of what it meant to see Carmillya, forever etched over the true form of his enemy.

  Carmillya, like all Valkyries, looked eternally young. The sigil of Silka, buried deep within Orion’s core, surfaced through his pupils, causing a pulse of discomfort.

  Still, he stared.

  It wasn’t attraction. The primal, almost sculpted beauty of the woman forced Orion to reevaluate the state of his own heart.

  Auburn hair floated in the water, trailing behind her like silk. Long and wavy—tied loosely at her back by a strip of battlecloth bearing her insignia—it displayed elegance even in the smallest detail.

  She stood tall and poised, her figure balanced—more dancer than brawler. Her posture was perfect, almost serene, even as she faced them.

  His eyes drifted upward to her face.

  Sharp cheekbones, almond-shaped crimson eyes, and pale ivory skin that glowed faintly under the candlelight. A breathtaking vision, unmoving. Her expression rarely shifted—perhaps because it wasn’t her expression at all, but Malamiris’s.

  While Orion remained absorbed, Marie focused on something else: her attire.

  It was sparse, elegant, built for precision and mobility.

  Metal shoulder guards, curved and engraved with faded runes, glinted faintly. A sleeveless battle dress, split at the sides for full leg mobility, constructed from dark leather reinforced with flexible metal and ceremonial thread. Her dominant leg bore a single piece of metallic armor, hinting at a favored combat stance—one reliant on high-speed kicks.

  She wore no helmet or headgear, only the battlecloth securing her hair.

  Charcoal black with crimson trim—the colors she had always chosen. A palette reflecting the conviction to walk the battlefield, even if drenched in blood. Delicate silver etchings shimmered when the light caught them just right.

  And then—both of them snapped out of it.

  Inside his soul, Orion heard a voice. Familiar. Unmistakable.

  Free her.

  Silka’s will, echoing even through death, begged for her release.

  Leave it to me.

  The voice didn’t return. But the words lingered.

  "Eyeing me like this."

  "You'll make even me blush."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Malamiris, wrapped in Carmillya’s skin like a veil, trailed a finger slowly along her thigh, up to her waist, then gliding gently between her breasts.

  "Did you know…"

  "That the battle had begun the moment we crossed gazes?"

  Her voice was different now. No longer lyrical or alluring. It buzzed like static inside their heads—delicate and discordant, unraveling them.

  "Shit."

  Orion’s left hand glowed white, forming Alcyone. Without a second of hesitation, he fired a bolt of light directly toward her chest.

  "You are already prisoners of this cathedral."

  As the bolt approached, it simply vanished—absorbed by some unseen force. Only a soft ripple and a fading trail of magic remained.

  Orion didn’t flinch.

  This isn’t about winning.

  He glanced at Marie.

  If this were a simple kill mission, I could manage. But I need to extract the Valkyrie’s soul from this thing. I need to separate her.

  The shadow he had seen beyond the illusion lingered in his mind.

  That shot had been a warning. Not for Malamiris.

  For himself. For Marie.

  We're still in reality, right? Marie thought. Her fingers brushed Orion’s sleeve—solid. Tangible.

  The hesitation vanished.

  Two threads of black energy emerged from her gloves, snaking down her sides and winding toward the hidden blades tucked in her boots. With a flick, she drew them, catching the hilts mid-spin with precision.

  Orion didn’t need to look.

  He knew the exact rhythm of that motion.

  They were ready.

  This will turn into an uphill battle. We don’t know what this thing is truly capable of… but neither does it.

  "Hmm?"

  Malamiris sniffed the water, her eyes narrowing with delight.

  "That smell."

  Then came a smile so twisted, Orion felt the cold crawl up his spine.

  That’s not obsession. That’s not love. That’s something worse.

  He had seen desire. Possessiveness. Devotion. But nothing in that expression matched even the darkest emotions his wives had ever shown.

  This wasn’t affection.

  It was hunger. Vile and absolute.

  "I haven’t smelled this in ages! How could I miss it?"

  She pointed directly at him.

  "You carry the scent of purity. Not just one—many. You're layered in it."

  Then, suddenly, her smile vanished.

  Her voice dropped.

  "But your soul doesn't resonate with that same essence. Why is that?"

  "I have no obligation to answer you," Orion replied coldly.

  The churning storm of foreign energy inside him veiled his origin well. He wouldn’t let her probe deeper.

  "What a shame—"

  She didn’t finish.

  Orion and Marie vanished.

  Reappearing behind her, their blades aimed for her neck.

  Malamiris stepped forward fluidly, letting the swords graze only her hair. She spun with unnatural grace, palm lashing toward Marie’s head—

  A bolt of light tore through the water.

  Malamiris caught it with a single hand, her smile returning.

  "I remember. That woman used similar 'magic' before me."

  She studied the energy like a piece of art.

  Marie leapt backward just in time, and Orion reappeared behind her.

  The bolt pulsed faintly in Malamiris’s palm.

  Orion snapped his fingers.

  A controlled explosion detonated in her face, compressing violently in the water. The shockwave expanded, replacing smoke with thousands of bubbles.

  Two shadows passed through the foam—Marie and Orion—switching places, their blades aiming for the same target.

  "Say. Isn’t that a dirty trick?"

  She emerged unscathed from the haze, brushing her hair back.

  Not a scratch on her body.

  "It didn’t work," Marie muttered.

  "If it did, this woman wouldn’t have lost," Orion replied.

  Malamiris stomped toward them now, her movements no longer fluid—but furious.

  "This is frustrating. Why won’t you answer?"

  Her smile tilted, revealing too many teeth.

  "I’m not asking for much."

  She tilted her head with a serpentine bend, and her gaze fixed solely on Orion.

  "..."

  He remained silent, his expression hardening.

  "Embrace the Madness."

  The phrase echoed like a curse.

  "Kh!"

  Marie winced, grabbing her head.

  "Marie?"

  She turned—blades raised, trembling.

  "Who are you to call my name?"

  Eyes wide, lost, she stared directly at him.

  "Hahahaha~ That’s what you get for ignoring me!" Malamiris cackled behind her. "Now fight! Fight for my joy!"

  "My… head!" Marie shouted, clutching her skull as her vision swam.

  "...Orion…"

  Her hands shook. Her grip faltered.

  And the blades—trembled in hesitation.