Time seemed stretched and frozen by some invisible force.
One moment, life-and-death combat raged; the next, an eerie, suffocating silence descended.
Those few drops of warm blood—carrying the faint metallic tang of iron and an indescribable stellar essence—splashed onto Selya's pale hand like molten lava dripping into a frozen lake.
At first, it was merely warmth.
But then came something entirely different—an unprecedented sensation, like the gentlest spring sunlight seeping through her icy skin, traveling upward along the fine black veins corrupted by years of shadow energy.
This wasn't the scorching, domineering power of starlight magic, nor the cold, twisted energy of shadows she knew so well. This was... tender, brimming with vitality, like the first sweet rain after drought, precisely and softly soothing every corner of her body long accustomed to pain and restlessness.
The shadow corruption that had clung to her like a parasite—gnawing at her life force, bringing sharp stings and relentless agitation—now, against this sudden gentle force, receded like tides meeting their nemesis.
Not suppressed, not banished, but... neutralized. Comforted.
The icy pain entrenched in her limbs and soul melted like frost under sunlight, replaced by a long-forgotten peace.
For the first time in years, her body wasn't a battlefield at war with itself, but a harbor granted temporary respite.
The feeling was so foreign. So... intoxicating.
Selya froze completely.
Her left hand, poised to seize the Starfall Fragment and end Lian's life, hung midair, its shadow energy flickering like a guttering candle.
Her head lowered slightly, those glacier-blue eyes—now unfocused—staring fixedly at the vivid red droplets being slowly absorbed by her skin. Around the blood, the corruption's black veins seemed fainter, less vicious.
How was this possible?!
Her heart—the Star Core Fragment bearing her life and curse—pulsed strangely. No longer the usual agony of corruption, but an odd... resonance? A soothing rhythm, as if touched by a kindred force.
This sensation—
Her head snapped up, gaze like twin bolts of lightning spearing toward Lian slumped against the fountain.
But this time, her eyes held no pure, emotionless killing intent. The cold remained, yet beneath it surged a maelstrom of shock, disbelief, and something dangerously close to... hunger.
What did she see?
A disheveled young man in coarse clothing, pale from blood loss and fear, trembling. His right arm bore a lash wound, flesh split, blood still seeping through the torn fabric. His eyes held terror, pain, and dazed confusion at having narrowly escaped death.
An ordinary, even impoverished noble descendant. The trace of Starborn blood in him should've been too thin for even basic starlight sensing, let alone this... miraculous power to "comfort" shadow corruption!
Impossible!
Shadow corruption was the curse of the Void Maw, the ultimate darkness devouring all life and light. Even peak Starborn archmages could only resist or suppress it with powerful magic—never "comfort" it.
Unless... unless it was the legendary first-generation Starborn, their blood like liquid starlight, said to contain the primordial power to neutralize the deepest darkness.
But this man?
Selya's breathing grew uneven—a rare loss of composure for a shadow witch who suppressed all tells.
She needed answers. Desperately.
This discovery outweighed even reclaiming the Starfall Fragment.
Because if his blood truly had this property, what did it mean?
A possibility she'd never dared hope for—relief from her torment? Even prolonged life?
The thought burned through her frozen heart like wildfire, bringing an indescribable thrill—and deeper wariness.
Meanwhile, Lian gradually regained his senses.
His arm burned, each heartbeat sending fresh agony. Blood loss made him dizzy and, his vision blurry. Yet he sensed the eerie shift in the atmosphere.
The ghostly assassin had stopped.
She stood rigid a few paces away, staring at him with an incomprehensibly complex gaze—no longer the pure, killing coldness, but shock and scrutiny, as if he were some unfathomable anomaly.
Why?
Panting, back against the fountain, Lian watched her warily. He didn't dare relax—her lethality was beyond anything he'd imagined.
With the fighting paused, ambient sounds returned.
The wind wailed through the square, scattering dust and dead leaves. Distant city noises felt worlds away, only occasional barks emphasizing the desolation.
The air smelled of blood—his—mingled with dust and Selya's grave-like chill, though the latter seemed muted now.
Time crawled.
Neither moved nor spoke.
One sat wounded, wary, and confused.
One stood frozen, inner tempest raging.
Above, thin moonlight fell through clouds, stretching their shadows across cracked stone—a still yet tension-thick tableau.
Tension.
Not the pre-combat kind, but the more unnerving tension of precarious unknowns.
Lian noticed her focus was on his bleeding arm. Why? Was his blood special?
He glanced at the wound. Red gleamed faintly in moonlight, normal except for the pain.
Was it the golden halo he'd summoned earlier?
He recalled the warmth from the Starfall Fragment, then nothing. That power had vanished instantly—more instinct than skill. Could something so fleeting unsettle her?
He couldn't fathom it, only cling to the stone's warmth and watch for any opening.
Selya, meanwhile, wrestled her thoughts back to order.
She suppressed that treacherous longing—born from eased pain—and reassessed coldly.
Lian Morningstar: descendant of a faded Starborn line, buyer of the Starfall Fragment.
His defensive halo, however weak, confirmed latent Starborn potential.
And now, his blood "comforted" corruption.
These facts pointed to one staggering conclusion—
His bloodline wasn't as "thin" as it seemed. Perhaps a dormant, even mutated trait? Something closer to the first Starborn?
Or... was it the Starfall Fragment's influence?
Unlikely. Such stones were energy sources, rarely capable of altering bloodline essence. Unless...
Unless this fragment was extraordinary—linked to the legendary "Star Core"?
At that thought, her own Star Core Fragment pulsed. She knew better than anyone what that implied.
If Lian's blood truly had this property, then he—and his stone—was far more significant than she'd imagined.
Not just a target or obstacle.
A key.
Perhaps to unravel secrets, even shaping Eseria's fate.
Her gaze sharpened, dissecting Lian's face like a scalpel, probing for hidden truths.
Silent questions hung between them:
Who are you truly?
Why is your blood special?
What connects you to the Starfall Fragment?
Are your visions merely visions?
Each question weighed heavily.
Lian, meeting that piercing stare, felt ice down his spine. He didn't know her thoughts but sensed something more dangerous brewing beneath this calm.
The killing intent had faded, replaced by something colder—more unsettling scrutiny.
He gripped the Starfall Fragment tighter, its feeble warmth his sole anchor. Whatever came next, he had to protect this secret—this last hope.
The wind rose again, colder.
The standoff continued.
Blood and decay intertwined under dim starlight, shadows lurking.
An accident of blood had paused the hunt but unveiled a deeper, more perilous mystery.
The gears of fate, turned by a few insignificant drops, now ground toward an unforeseen path.