"I accept the deal, but only with the system as the official intermediary." Allison said.

Shit. No. Don't.

Luke felt the mana gather in the arrow. The current flowed up from the core of his soul, racing through his limbs until it pooled in his hand. It was alive and hot, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. The energy coalesced around the projectile; with each passing second the charge thickened, the air itself trembling around it.

"And so it shall be, through the System," the archangel declared.

"What are you doing, Rhiannon?" Erza snapped, irritation sharpening her tone. "Giving up that easily?"

The archangel strode forward until he stood before Allison. The scrape of his stone wings against the floor sent a metallic whisper through the hall, and he turned a cold gaze on Erza.

"Anyone who interrupts my conversation will die," he said, his voice ringing through the chamber. The words carried impatience, but beneath it lay a threat as heavy as a blade.

He shifted his attention back to Allison and the others.

"The System will mediate. Do you accept the terms? It will be simple. If you refuse, I will have to kill. I cannot risk anything."

"No killing," Allison answered, voice steady. "I will only accept the deal if no one is killed."

The archangel exhaled slowly, annoyed, then nodded.

"Then they must agree to the contract. But first, you must accept the terms officially. Squeeze my hand to seal it; I do not want you to change your mind afterward."

Allison drew a slow breath. For a flicker of a moment her eyes wavered, fear, doubt, resignation, then she lifted her hand.

[Are you going to let Allison Rhiannon be sacrificed?]

A notification bloomed in front of Luke. It was nothing like the usual system windows. This one felt almost alive, woven from pale, twisting filaments that darkened toward their edges, as if stitched from the thread of his own thoughts. It hit him in that raw, predatory part of his mind.

[ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO LET ALLISON RHIANNON BE SACRIFICED?]

The message flashed in huge, brutal letters, hovering inches from his face. Luke's heart tore in his chest.

No.

The scream did not leave his throat; it rose from somewhere deeper. He watched Allison, her hand poised to close the pact with the archangel. Every muscle in his body tightened.

There would not be enough time. The mana he had gathered still needed seconds, seconds he did not have. Desperation burned hot and sharp in his chest. He moved to improvise, to do whatever it took.

At the very moment he was about to act, Allison froze. Her hand hung suspended in the air, a breath away from the archangel's palm.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, impatient. "Come on, do it. You have to seal the agreement with your own will!"

Allison looked at him, calm, but her eyes contained something deep and unspoken.

"Before I accept the deal," she said quietly, "may I ask one last question?"

The archangel ground his teeth. The sound was half stone, half flesh, like rock trying to split. Impatience flickered across his face, but he forced his voice into control.

"You may," he replied, the restraint barely holding back the storm beneath.

Allison drew a long breath before she spoke. The silence stretched until it felt too long, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the next move.

"Once you're inside my body, the agreement that stops your current body from killing them won't apply anymore. It doesn't extend to mine, does it?"

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The hall fell utterly still. Even the air seemed to hesitate, thick and heavy. Every pair of eyes turned to the archangel.

"What a pity," he said at last, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I was nearly fooling you."

The motion came suddenly. He lifted his spear, the metal flashing cold and precise.

"Now!" Allison shouted.

At the same instant she opened her mouth and the dragon's breath tore out. Power slammed the room, the floor trembled under the force. It was the strongest attack she had ever unleashed—dense, cutting, an Arctic storm made of magic. Ice swept outward like a living blizzard, swallowing the Midnight King before he could react.

The creature convulsed. A roar of rage and agony bounced off the stone as a crust of ice wrapped him up. The sound was monstrous. Then, violent and quick, the archangel shook free, swung the spear, and a single, precise strike landed on Allison, hurling her through the air.

She tumbled across the stone floor, her body showered in crystalline shards. Breath left her in a single, brutal gasp. For a heartbeat, time felt frozen.

The Midnight King roared and pushed forward, cracking the ice with splintering sounds. Before he could take another step, darkness erupted from the ground. Black arms, made of raw shadow, shot up and seized his ankles and wings, yanking him down.

Then a yellow flare hammered the chamber. Mason, eyes blazing and body shaking with raw energy, poured everything he had into a single, furious blast. Fire surged from his hands in torrential waves, a molten, choking blaze that filled the hall in seconds. Heat pressurized the air, the scent of scorched stone and molten metal standing out like a new enemy.

Luke, arrow already suffused with mana, felt the seconds leak away. Energy thrummed along his arm, a high, insistent hum in his ears.

One more second. Just one more.

"VERMIN!" the archangel screamed. His voice ripped through the fire like thunder.

Everything stopped. The flames winked out and a killer hush fell over the chamber. Luke looked around and the world froze in a way that had nothing to do with weather. His blood chilled.

Charlie, Evangeline, Mason, Jack, Anne, Erza, Allison—every one of them stood motionless. Stone had claimed them mid-attack. They were statues. Flesh turned to marble, expressions trapped in the middle of motion. The archangel stood amid splinters of ice and charred stone, parts of his body blackened and cracked like burning coal.

"You will pay dearly for this insolence," he spat.

He lunged, spear aimed at the petrified Evangeline. A figure stepped between them.

"What? Who are you?" the archangel demanded, startled.

"Here is your bargain!" Luke shouted.

The leap was fast and instinctive. Luke threw something straight at the creature's face—a super acid potion. The vial shattered on impact, green liquid hissing and glowing as it spread across the arcan­gel's skin.

The roar that followed knocked the air from their lungs. The acid ate through the stone-like surface in seconds, revealing raw flesh and scorched bone. The creature staggered, screaming, but Luke was already moving again, hands blazing with the power of the Demon Predator.

The kukri in his palm thrummed, wrapped in a dark aura. He dove, the blade driving true through the archangel's eye. The hit sounded hollow and final as metal sank deep toward the brain. Acid steamed on the ruined face, the air thick with the twin stinks of rot and burned flesh.

For a breath, it looked like he had done it.

The counterattack came too fast. The creature's palm slammed into Luke's abdomen with brutal force, a clean, shattering blow that punched through him. The breath left him in a ragged, helpless sound as the world spun and he slammed into the stone floor.

Pain washed over him in hot waves. Each inhale was a struggle. The epic skill collapsed, the mana glow draining from his skin. Still he saw the kukri lodged in the archangel's skull. The monster gripped the blade, tore it free with a savage twist, and snapped it; shards clattered across the floor, their shine fading like dying embers.

"You are all DEAD!" the archangel screamed. Its face was a mask of raw, red flesh, peeled and burned. Hair had fallen away, leaving a charred scalp and cracked skin.

Shards of defensive magic flared up around Luke—fragile barriers, enough only to slow the next strike.

"I WILL KILL everyone out there! And then you, filthy wretches! I will tear you apart, organ by organ, until you rot away! I will have what I want!" the archangel bellowed, wings beating like anvils.

Four great wings unfurled from its back, cleaving the air with a razor scream. It struck once, then again, and the floor split under the pressure. The thing rocketed upward, crashing through the ceiling. Crystal fragments and dust rained down, and a white flare filled the chamber.

The chain anchored to the creature's feet snapped taut and, with an audible crack, dragged the crystal throne with it. The throne scraped across the hall in a high, grinding keening until both it and the archangel were lifted into the void above. In seconds they vanished through the gaping hole in the roof.

Luke tried to rise. His body refused to respond. The burn in his gut felt like fire, blood warm along his skin, and his vision blurred at the edges.

Jack was at his side in an instant, dropping to his knees. The tip of his wand glowed as he began to weave a healing spell.

"It's over," Evangeline whispered, barely audible. "We're dead."

A system notification hovered in the air, cold and indifferent to their fear:

[Estimated Time Until End:: 01 hour : 24 minutes : 43 seconds]

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