Danghai’s International Trade Conference began today.

Fireworks were lit across the business district for this occasion. Cameras and recording magics went into full gears to capture the festivity that was only seen once a year. But the true media-bait was at the Conference Center, where the Phantasia’s greatest criminal and revolutionary — Orwell Mehest — made his appearance.

The media couldn’t stop gluing their eyes to this harmless-looking man from the moment he stepped from the harbor, ignoring the jeer and cheers of both haters and supporters. Fifty different questions were asked from the second he stepped on the tube-shape train to the moment he exited at the pyramid marking the conference. Orwell patiently waved at the media before going into the meeting.

Sonovia De Attra was waiting inside the Conference Ceenter, barely stopped by Red Blade Rubric from rushing at the guy for a revenge match. Next to her, Charon Sol the maid sighed as the inevitable political disaster ahead.

Several dignitaries noticed that Alpine the Seven hadn’t checked into the Center, but nobody cared. Orwell was too much of an attention magnet.

…

The Skylark Emporium was designed to capture the uniqueness of the bird nest. The owner — an avid bird watcher — explicitly wanted his largest business venture to reflect the care of the cradle where chicks grew to grace the sky.

Two particular chicks — Serenade Asmodela and Shyme Enma — were regular visitors of this Emporium for every Annual International Trade Conference.

“Shouldn’t we be at the Conference Center?” Shyme, the more responsible for the two, asked her partner in crime.

“You want to meet Orwell?” Serenade asked, targeting where it hurt.

Shyme weighted the option between reuniting with the man who nearly iced her twice and shopping. She chose the latter without an ounce of hesitation. Part of her wanted to get revenge on Orwell, but she didn't fancy getting ground to paste for the third time in front of the media.

The two went into the Emporium, buying the bags of goods meaning sweets, magical weapons, and girl's staple dresses.

Shyme was focused utterly on shopping. Being a young lady of the world's renown clan of Divine Beastkins infamous for being exploitative cutthroats and warmongers had its perks. She felt guilty about her clan's sinister cashflow, but that was why she was here. The shopping activity existed for Shyme to forget her problem.

Serenade wasn’t sharing her new friend’s distraction. Here beneath a fancy lamp, polished marble floor and wall of sculpted magical wood, Serenade Asmodella felt a little regret. In another life, she would have been here with Magnolia and Luxinna. Dream’s last word before he parted echoed in her mind.

Dream knew her childhood-friend. Luxinna was out there somewhere.

Luxinna’s name was the taboo. Lucian Drakokia — the Chancellor of the Elven’s Council of Elder — feared his daughter. Serenade wasn’t exactly privy to the detail, but she gathered enough. Luxinna possessed almost no compatibility with Spirit unlike the rest of the elves, instead she was blessed with the natural affinity to the element which countered it — lightning.

Serenade believed there was more to do story. Lucian wouldn’t exile his daughter for wielding an unsavory taboo alone. He must be afraid of something.

Serenade tried to get people to check on Luxinna's last known location after the White Tower Incident.

But according to the report, Luxinna had left ages ago.

“Wait,” Shyme spoke, jolting Serenade from her daydream. “Isn’t that, Yuri?”

Serenade looked up to see a familiar man in a suit.

The last she saw Yuri, he was leaving in a bloody mess after condemning Alpine. He was barely standing, dressed in mundane clothing and tattered clothing, venturing out alone.

Serenade was convinced the worst must have happened to him.

She was wrong.

Yuri wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. No, he was dressed in a sharp black suit. His blond-hair combed neatly, and his body stood straight. The familiar young man was demonstrating the wares for the booth Serenade and Shyme didn’t recognize. In this reunion, Yuri Ushakov was the image of prosperity.

“This is an alchemical automatic pistol by Olaf Brother,” Yuri said, ignoring the two girls he picked up from the corner of his eyes. “480 RPM, liquid cartridge.” He expertly reloaded the pistol and cocked it. “Matted grip for maximum handling. The formula etched into the gun mechanism allows the quick reaction of the alchemical liquid to a mystical projectile. After some personal testing, I would say its handling for beginners serves as advertised.”

Yuri expertly spun the gun and put it back on display. He turned to address the crowd with a charismatic smile.

“Sword might be good, but this little baby will be a great equalizer in case you are outnumbered,” Yuri said. “It also works, if you accidentally drop your weapon.” Yuri cracked a joke. “Think about it. Super secret martial art-style: Dropping steel, Texas’ eagle quick-draw. They would never see that coming.”

Some among the crowd giggled at the joke.

The two watched as Yuri expertly dealt with the customer, stunned. Was it just them or some women were slipping him their contact details? When did Yuri become a lady-killer?

It wasn’t until he was free that Yuri turned to face the two.

“Shyme, Serenade,” Yuri said. His voice betrayed no hint of nervousness. “Shouldn’t you be at the Conference Center?” He quickly arrived at the conclusion. “Let's guess. You are trying to shirk either your duty or your reunion with Orwell.”

“Can we avoid talking about that?” Shyme said. “And what about this new look?” She investigated her old porter up and down. “And where do you get the suit.”

Yuri sighed, “Long story. I suggest we have a chat elsewhere.”

…

The three relocated to the Emporium’s café. After ordering some drinks, Yuri told the two women the fake story.

Shyme and Serenade took it with a grain of salt.

“So some guy from Acropolis met you after Alpine kicked you out?” Shyme gathered the piece together. “And now you are their salesman.”

“They also give you combat training,” Serenade said, blinking.

“Yes, and again, yes,” Yuri said. “I can’t let Alpine repeat itself.”

Serenade and Shyme looked at each other and owned up.

“Look, Yuri,” Serenade came clean. “We are sorry about Alpine.”

“We want to help you,” Shyme added. “But we can’t go against Alpine.”

Yuri snorted, “Apology accepted. I already stopped blaming all of you. It’s too immature to expect more from you guys.” His eyes narrowed. “Speaking of the devil. Hello Alpine. Are you here to cause an international incident?”

Shyme felt the need to lecture him about bad jokes, “Look Yuri, this isn’t--”

It was then the familiar hand slapped the Wolf-girl shoulder. The pink-hair Elf glanced at the icy face above them in fright.

“Well, I should have known it won’t be so easy to get rid of you,” Alpine said. The luxurious woman in black hair and white robe glared at the two escapees. She turned her frosty gaze on Yuri. “I remember your smart mouth. Don’t think you can walk away like last time.”

Yuri looked into the eye of the woman who reduced him into a bloody mess on the floor. He wasn’t afraid. This bitch ran from Dream’s killing intent, while he withstood the same thing. After being trained by the like of Dream and Symphony, Yuri could see Alpine’s arrogance for what it was: a cheap little chick puffing itself to intimidate the predator.

It was stupid. It would accomplish nothing. Predators like Wayward would slap her without blinking. Yes, Alpine was an S-Rank, but she was a normal S-Ranker. A solid threat, but feeble against the circle Yuri inhabited.

Thus, the Knight gave her the warranted respect; none.

“A Winter Phoenix,” Yuri said, recalling the species he had to kill during the brutal training with Symphony. “Quite a delicacy, especially with your Divine Core enhancing the taste.” The boy kicked the goddess where it hurt. “Tell me, Alpine. How did you escape the poacher? Did the Divine First take a pity on the little bird? Where are your parents? Let me guess; a dinner on someone's plate given your fatherless attitude.”

Alpine felt something in her snap, “You dare —”

“So you are a fellow orphan,” Yuri stepped on the nerve a bit more. “A hint Alpine, your tragedy doesn't justify your attitude. Learn some bloody restraint.”

Silence.

Alpine couldn’t believe this thing insulted her not once but twice. She forgot the last time someone dragged her down like that.

Serenade and Shyme couldn’t believe the guy in front of him was Yuri. Was this the guy they used to push around? It couldn’t be. This Yuri held no fear or relevance toward Alpine. He treated Alpine like the goddess was beneath him. Even the best among their generation wouldn’t dare throw such shade toward a high-ranking member of the Divine Fist. Where the hell did he learn to verbally skin someone like that? Where was this bottomless well of courage Yuri bathed in?

A second passed, and Alpine exploded.

Cold wind flowed down and screams erupted.

Wind pressure pressed everything to the ground. Customers enjoying their time in the shop felt the massive attack pushing them to the earth. Tables crashed and chairs crumbled. Windows were broken. Tears and groans erupted. The shoppers and visitors around them noticed the carnage and ran away screaming.

Wall of security guards rushed over to subdue the trouble-maker. They soon fell from the immense pressure, guffawing at the woman in the Snow Maiden Sect robes causing the international incident.

Shyme and Serenade weren’t spared. They were hammered to the floor. Their body ground to the earth by the raw force exerted on them.

But the violence Alpine brought didn’t grant her wish.

“Look at what you have done,” Yuri remained seated on the only standing chair, waving his cup of lemon-lavender coffee latte. “Where the hell should I put this when you broke the table?” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the surrounding pressure to talk smack. “This is peak fatherless behavior. Seriously, Alp, you need to get laid.”

Alpine increased the pressure, but accomplished nothing against Yuri’s masterful Aura. On the ground, Serenade couldn’t breathe. Shyme tried to yell at Yuri to stop egging Alpine, but the air couldn’t get to her lungs.

The Wolf-girl gathered her Mana and weaved spells to off-set the pressure. She climbed her way up.

“Yuri,” Shyme huffed. “Stop. Apologize.”

Yuri wasn’t having it. He sipped his beverage and declared. “Shyme, you don’t apologize to a tyrant and fatherless bitches. Where I come from, we discipline them.”

Alpine’s nerves pulsed. “If you dare call me father—”

“If a fatherless bitch like you wanted to kill me, you would already do it,” Yuri verbally destroyed Alpine one more time. “Given you are resorting to the pressure which is worth 47% of Wayward, you want me living and begging.” Yuri couldn’t resist another shot. “Okay, Miss fatherless, what do you want me for? The position as the head of a fatherless society? Your wingman? Let me get this straight, your tyrannical ass is undateable.” Yuri frowned okay. “Maybe not. I believe even the fathe--”

Alpine lost it. She lunged at Yuri with absolute hatred, her hand lifted to deliver the mother of all aerial blades.

A hand grabbed her from behind.

“Who dares!” Alpine screamed, turning back to see the cool, disciplined face of Lena Atalante of Acropolis.

“I dare,” Atalante wasn’t impressed. She clicked her finger.

[Aero Supreme]

The pressure grounding everyone was lifted as the primal power of the Arcane effortlessly countered Alpine’s wind pressure.

Serenade, freed from the weight of the sky, gasped for breath. Shyme nearly stumbled from the sudden shift in pressure before finding her bearing again.

Alpine looked at her intervention.

“Who are you and why are you protecting this guy?” Alpine demanded, and icy chills emanated from her body. Frost started spreading from her feet, terrifying the recovering bystander and causing the security to run. Shyme and Serenade quickly cast a protection magic, being caught in sudden attack once was already bad enough. They still didn’t know how Yuri tanked Alpine’s pressure, and they didn’t want to find out.

Protected by her Aura, Atalante wasn’t worried nor amused about the rapidly decreasing temperature.

“Saving him?” Atalante said in bafflement. “Look carefully, you moron.” She turned to Yuri and squinted. “A good one. Is that a Skill to hide a preemptive ambush? No wonder even Miss Phoenix couldn’t see it?”

Yuri clicked his fingers, and a blade of glowing wind revealed itself several inches from Alpine’s face. In a certain possibility, the raging Alpine would have impaled her face on this invisible blade without suspecting a thing. She wouldn’t know that Yuri was baiting her to attack, pushing her rage to make this confrontation close and personal. It was a ploy banking on Alpine’s arrogance, pride, and horrible self-control.

If Atalante didn’t stop her, Yuri would have body-bagged Alpine without lifting his behind from the almighty chair.

Seeing how close she brushed with death, Alpine paled.

“When did you create the blade?” Alpine backed away.

“From the get-to-go,” Yuri said. “You are so dang gung-ho. It is obvious you prefer to rip people who pisses you off piece-to-piece.” He turned to Atalante. “As expected, you noticed it.”

“We use the same Arcane,” Atalante pointed out their commonality. “A barely detectable air-blade is quite obvious, if you know the trick.” She sighed. “Look, I know Alpine might be a bitch, but even--”

“Rem gave me an okay to punt around kiddy gods,” Yuri shrugged. “We don't have time for small fries.”

Alpine couldn’t believe the insult. “You are dead,” she pointed at Yuri before turning her attention to Atalante. “And you,” she frowned, “who are you?”

It was Shyme who recognized that face, “General Atalante?”

“Former General Atalante,” Atalante corrected, glaring at Shyme. “How is your uncle? Selling weapons to rogue nobles lately, Enma?” She nodded to Alpine. “Take your sorry excuse of the mentor out of here. I don’t want to start a bloodbath.” Atalante couldn’t stop herself from making the joke. “Aren’t you late for your little meeting with Mehest, Miss Fatherless?”

Shyme blinked. The Atalante she remembered wasn’t this strong or this bold. What was happening with the world? Did Yuri and Atalante share a secret map to unlimited power?

“This isn’t over,” Alpine growled. She wanted to tear the two people standing against her to pieces, but her animal instinct agreed with Atalante. The fight would be a bloodbath. “Serenade, Magnolia is caught up in some IK’s mess. Lightwell wanted you to be their representative.”

Not waiting for an answer, Alpine dragged the Elf out by the neck.

Yuri watched them leave and followed his hunch to fetch the uniform.

…

Turning into her true form as a Winter Phoenix, Alpine grabbed Serenade in her claw like a doll and flew into the sky.

It was then that it happened.

Pillars of inky darkness erupted around the city. The towers of ink and malice shot to the sky, darkening the clouds. Cried of murders and rages rang across the subconscious of both goddess and Elf.

Serenade knew the scene too well.

“It is like the White Tower,” she gulped.

“What?” Alpine got caught by surprises as the Danghai’s Leynode twisted into an abomination beneath her.

It was then that monsters emerged from the pillar. Countless creatures with insect-like wings and several humongous flying centipedes the length of a skyscraper climbed into the sky, overshadowing the city below. 

In the distance, a pyramid—Danghai’s Conference Center—exploded.

Before the two could respond, one centipede turned its attention to the pair flying in the sky.

“Uh oh,” Serenade gulped, looking at the energy gathering at the mandible. “Alpine, dodge that--”

Her warning came too late as the sudden attack shot them out of the sky.