Qin Li Eema had not only seen the change with her normal sight and her Dragon-sight, but felt it as well.

It wasn’t a technique, not exactly, but whatever it was, was powerful.

Too powerful.

In all of their many legends, there was only ever one cultivator who could alter time, and all the world’s—her world’s, anyway—most powerful cultivators had allied against him to defeat him, even Dom Wu Sento, the Obsidian Phoenix (though, that was long before he’d become what he now was), because no one with that kind of power could be allowed to exist.

And yet, here was someone else with that power, in this peculiar world she found herself in. Perhaps the only one from her own world, though she’d received a message from a heavenly messenger that made her believe there were others. Somewhere. She had yet to see any.

She tracked down the source of the time power—it wasn’t hard, even the residue it left glowed in her Dragon-sight—and was only somewhat surprised to find that the source was the madman with blood coming from his ears who had jumped from a roof and disappeared.

He was on some imitation of a horse, like a two-wheeled cart propelled with a lever and gear system turned by his legs.

It was actually rather ingenious. Also, simple. She wondered why no one on her world had created something like it. Not everyone was a cultivator who could traverse leagues in a single breath.

The madman was crafty, and must have sensed her, because no sooner had she caught up to him than he slammed to a halt, spun in the air, then disappeared.

She didn’t have time to contemplate this strange power he seemed to possess, as the contraption he’d been riding came flying at her.

She summoned her sword and didn’t even need to draw on her core as she sliced the contraption in two an arm’s-length away from her face.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

That he managed to send it in her direction at all in so chaotic of a manner was impressive. She’d only gotten a brief glimpse this time of his aura, but it was still weak.

There was a power coming from him, however, emanating from his chest rather than his core, that she hadn’t gotten a chance to examine.

An elixir? A talisman?

She didn’t know. Surely it couldn’t be his vital cauldron.

His wasn’t the only aura she detected. The buildings around her held scattered groups, and though most were weak, one cluster of seven stood out in the building across from the one she stood atop.

The most powerful she’d yet detected, other than the giant man who had been chasing the mad one, the giant who had somehow seen through her Tiger’s-grace.

She shivered at the memory of what his gaze had felt like. It had burned, and though it had left no physical mark, the memory felt like a scar on her spirit.

These seven sources were weaker, no match for her. But still, they were powerful, and there were seven of them, and this was a new, strange world. She would be cautious.

She had already faced grotesque abominations, twisted humans with power like the giant’s, though different and much weaker. She had dispatched them all with ease, but had been surprised by their adaptability. If they hadn’t been so much weaker than her, she might have been in trouble.

She received some kind of treasure for killing each of them, small orbs which she could purchase pills and elixirs with. Or so her heavenly messenger had communicated to her.

Suddenly the madman reappeared, looking disoriented.

He’s come back to try to kill me.

She began cycling, drawing on her core, readying herself for another attack. Better to be over-prepared than under.

But he gave no indication he knew she was there.

He was easy to read, so far as she could tell anyway. There was no deception in his aura, just… confusion? Loss?

It was a jumbled mix she had trouble parsing.

He spoke to himself. The heavenly messenger had done something to Eema, and she could understand these otherworlders now if she concentrated, but the distance was too great for even her Wolf-senses to pick up his words.

Was he communicating with the heavenly messenger as well? That first message had made it seem like it was speaking to everyone on this world, so it seemed likely.

Perhaps he wasn’t mad after all, and had simply been communicating with the messenger the first time she’d seen him.

Maybe it was commonplace for everyone in this world to communicate with heavenly messengers, and it had simply taken time for it to speak to her after her arrival here.

It was strange, as the messenger spoke to her at first by writing words in the air, and then later by projecting images into her mind.

Still, better than speaking only in dreams or riddles as the messengers on her world were inclined to do. And it actually answered her questions—some of them—which was a welcome surprise. It had offered to forge a spiritbond to directly interpret her will, but she had declined.

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At least she’d found out that it hadn’t been Dom Wu Sento who had caused her and parts of her world to be merged into this one. Her heavenly messenger refused to say who had caused it, only that it hadn’t been him.

She was at least glad she didn’t have to deal with that guilt.

The madman spoke to himself or the messenger again, then headed for a cluster of contraptions like the one he’d been riding and which was now in two pieces on the roof behind Eema.

After much wrenching and yanking, he pulled one free with a loud snap.

Then he slumped to the ground.

Eema wasn’t normally sentimental, but perhaps because of how alone she herself felt, she averted her gaze until he was done. She couldn’t stand to see his aura like that.

It felt too similar to her own.

Eventually, he got up again and appeared to communicate with the heavenly messenger.

He didn’t seem to like what it was telling him, as he let out what could only be an invective and kicked at the two-wheeled contraption he’d liberated from its companions.

She almost revealed herself to him. Maybe he would have information, or he could teach her his teleportation technique.

That was the reason she told herself, anyway, for considering it.

But another voice beat her to it.

It was a female from one of the seven she had sensed, now standing on a balcony and speaking to the madman.

Eema grew tense. Something was wrong.

The man didn’t seem to notice, but the woman he was talking to… there was deception in her aura. Greed. Greed for him.

Not lust. Well, that too. But mostly greed. And something else.

A yearning, a desire. To be part of something. For power, yes, but mainly acceptance.

All at once Eema realized what was happening, but faster than even she could react a bare-chested man appeared behind the madman and drove a knife into his skull.

It saddened her. It was silly, she didn’t even know him. But it was a coward’s act to sneak up on someone.

Though the man who had stabbed him moved so fast that he didn’t need to sneak.

Which made it even more shameful.

Eema expected something to happen; she’d felt the power of time explode out from within the madman. If anyone could counter speed like that, it would be someone with the mastery of that most ephemeral of elements.

But the only reaction the madman gave was to jerk once, then fall to the ground, dead.

“Uh, I think I got him,” his killer called to the girl on the balcony, loud enough for Eema to hear, and, with just a bit of focus, understand.

“I can see that. He was supposed to be immortal.”

The killer shrugged.

“Whatever. Let me get out of this stupid dress and then I’ll be down.”

“Just go naked like Sanne.”

“You wish.”

“I do.”

“It’s not naked if you can’t see anything,” a naked woman said, appearing next to the other one, then leapt over the balcony railing.

She landed lightly, two floors below.

Though she was unclothed, she wore a distortion about her that Eema could only see through thanks to her Dragon-sight. If she looked only through her eyes, the woman appeared as a gauze-shrouded shape.

As with all the rest of those with power Eema had encountered in this new world, she couldn’t pinpoint its origin in any of this group either. Their auras were messy and hard to read, their cores strange, and the path of their channels chaotic.

And that was another thing. The power flowing through their channels was… well, wasn’t flowing. It was static.

Soon all seven people Eema had detected were outside looking at the corpse.

They seemed surprised they’d been able to kill the madman so easily.

Eema was about to leave them to their disgrace, when she felt something.

It felt like the madman. His aura was distinct, and she knew it well from the massive disruption in time essence she’d sensed that had led her to him in the first place.

But it wasn’t coming from his corpse. It was coming from…

There. A few hundred paces away from the group, she spotted the madman. He was under the shade of a tree, and hidden from the others.

As she watched, he sat up, and Eema realized he was naked.

Had he created a double to fool them?

She quickly looked at his corpse again.

And realized with a start that it wasn’t a corpse. It was something… else. It still had power. It still had life.

How had she missed that?

Or had she? She was sure a moment ago it had been nothing but a corpse.

The group grew excited at finding something. Cards, they called them.

The items, these cards, had their own auras, and Eema realized this was almost, but not quite, the type of power she detected within their cores.

It was like—

Her attention snapped back to the naked madman as power erupted from him, and then everything descended into chaos.

∎ ∎ ∎

“Holy crap the System took it!” Olivia cried.

“No!” superhero girl countered. “That’s not possible! It wouldn’t attack us.”

“It killed Lars!” Olivia insisted.

Sebastian felt strange. His perception was split fully into two. Whereas before it had only been partial, he could now see and feel everything from his body, and also from his corpse, though it was a struggle to keep his attention on his corpse.

Phantom, he mentally corrected. I can’t keep calling it my corpse. It’s disturbing.

As his phantom, he’d twisted out of Sanne’s grip—which wasn’t difficult, she’d been too startled to stop him—then stabbed the shirtless guy—Lars apparently—in the eye with his own knife, killing him. A fact confirmed by a message appearing in Sebastian’s head saying he had slain a Vassal.

Now he was going for the next closest person, Sanne.

But before he could drive the blade into her, she broke free of her shock and burst into flame.

So that was why she was naked, and what the haze had been.

Sebastian stumbled back, clothes and possibly eyebrows singed, swiped up the cards that had fallen to the ground, then ran. He didn’t need to beat them, just escape with his cards.

Something flew overhead and landed in front of him, cracking the concrete as it did.

It was one of the pair wearing the skintight outfits. The guy.

So that was why he was wearing a cape. He could fly.

Obviously.

Keep it together, Sebastian urged himself, juking to the right to go down a side street.

The superhero girl landed in front of him—she could fly as well—bounced up, and struck a pose. She was grinning. “Anime physics,” she gripped her chest to stop its jiggling, “isn’t it great?”

[https://i.imgur.com/s9JT5OJ.jpg]

Sebastian didn’t have time to respond or even parse her words before she flew into him.

It didn’t hurt, which was good, but she slammed him into a building, and he felt the crunch of his phantom’s bones, and also of hers.

He flickered back to himself. The damage had weakened his connection with his phantom.

It was almost dead.

Again.

He needed to get those cards back.

But his phantom was now surrounded by six opponents.

Nothing to do but fight.

But it was a struggle. He could barely make the phantom move.

Superhero girl stood with her hands on her hips, cape fluttering behind her far more than the gentle breeze warranted as she looked down upon his phantom. “I don’t see what’s so great about him.”

“Stop stalling and kill him,” the American girl, Olivia, said. Not waiting for anyone else, her arms morphed into shiny obsidian blades, each at least eight feet long.

She ran his phantom through with one as Sebastian tried to get it to its feet.

His connection ceased entirely and he found himself watching the scene from only one perspective now, a hundred yards down the road.

Was his phantom really dead?

He tried to connect to it again, but there was nothing.

There was only one option left to him.

Evolve, he thought. Trust my power.

He looked down at his lack of attire. “This is insane.”

Then Sebastian ran, charging into their midst.

It was time to die again.