Mankind is nothing more than a leaf floating in an endless ocean with no directions , perhaps a guiding light is needed.

So the ''gods'' lead humans to an era of light.

At least that's what the legends and myths told us.

But no one ever told others about who made the dark eras.

Suiming witnessed both the dark and the light.

He wiped his body fluid off his face , different lights that resemble constellations float around the room.

''I know you don't understand me , but for real , for that one moment i thought we once met before''

The thing did not answer , it has no reaction outside its flesh expanding and growing.

Smell of blood isn't comfortable , if it doesn't smell so much Acryl should be awake.

''I must be crazy to chat with a monster , from aspect of others , we are not so different''

His butterfly knife swims through the monster's one of many limbs , dark colored blood fountained out.

''So tell me , where is your god?''

The floating constellations merged into a single string , wrapped around the blob of flesh.

Realm-arts: Shattered starlight.

More and more unnamable body fluids run out of the creature's flesh , like squeezing sponge , except the sponge is alive and has blood running in their veins.

''Now we are talking...um i am , to be exact''

The string collapses into smaller pieces , the wicked muscle blooms like a flower , pushing Suiming away. He felt a mind connection that pierced into him like a spear. A fragment of someone's past shoots into Suiming's head , sour and bitter runs up to his brain.

''Umm , that was awkward''

''Apparently you can understand me'' Suiming says while standing up.

He picked up his monocle and put it back on his right eye.

''But you don't have a mind of mankind''

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His dagger pierces reality , an unworldly , wicked purple scar appieres midair , his hand ''pushes'' the scar forward.

The unearthly scar left a wound that can fit a table on the creature's body , the interior organs of it dropping out with a smell of rotten flesh combined with finest perfumes.

''What are you made of?'' He murmurs to himself.

Suiming's keyhole shaped pupils turn right and left , and pupils capture an empty spot.

A vacuum , Acryl disappeared.

—————————————————————————————————-

Blue box , outside the battlefield.

''Hello there'' Someone breaks the silence

Neon almost jumped up. She takes a look at the person speaking , it is Fosfor.

''What are you doing here?I thought you were gone.''

''What?Louder , i can't hear you''

''I said I thought you were gone''Neon said a little louder.

Fosfor shook her head and placed her palm on her forehead. As if she heard a stupid question.

''That wasn't me,'' Fosfor explains , ''I mean I am a copy of that Fosfor you met.''She adds.

“By the way , have you heard the rumors of Siyue’s soon visit with Euth?”

“No? At least not when I went home.”

Fosfor's words and Neon's chit chats soften her iron hard nerves.

They walked for minutes that felt like hours. looking for a way to get out or to the lobby.

But all they could see was an endless steel wall wormed with pipes and unnameable gear and button-covered machines.

''Fosfor , why can't you bring us out like you did last night?'' Neon asks.

''That's because it was a stronger copy, i'm just a regular one.'' Fosfor replies.

''Regular?''

''Yeah re-''

Crimson scatters on Fosfor's chest , making her white hoodie a minimalist art piece.

Behind her stands a man in a brown coat that is painted in different colors , some of them red , some of them black.

''They lied! You lied! The cults lied! He took everything from me! That damn artist in white!'' The man screams while pulling the blade out of Fosfor's already shredded ribs.

Without a word , the blade swims through air , accompanied with a nameless wind.

Neon almost couldn’t move out of shock. Last time there was Three who encouraged her. This time noone is here , even Fosfor is ‘dead’.

Neon stops the blade at the last second , using her realm arts of light bending.

The man kept swinging his blade like a machine born to slaughter , Neon could see the veins on his arms , the blade was a few centimeters away from her face.

Thanks to Neon's reaction , she was able to block or dodge most of his attacks. After a few gaps of his attack , she turns invisible.

“You think your child’s play of realm-arts can help? Those light trick can't fool me.”

The situation continues for another few minutes that feels way longer than it should be.

But Neon isn't some kind of nonstop dodging machine , her breath becomes shorter and shorter , her palm is sweating cold sweats.

In the worst moment comes the side effect of her realm arts — starving.

But now there is no time for her to reach into her bag and take a chocolate or anything.

The sword edge is coming closer , she could smell the iron rust of it, the few seconds are stretched to almost infinity.

Fear , fear of death.