---
Chapter: Cracks in the Lightning Seal
"Simple?"
"You try getting a Calamity to assist you, then see if he can seal a Beyonder characteristic of the same Sequence without turning you into an exploded corpse," Elaria Moonfest snorted, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her pointed ear.
Eli Walker puffed his cheeks slightly and muttered, "I never said I wasn't grateful…"
"What did you say?" the Elf Queen asked, her voice sharpening.
"I said," Eli pivoted smoothly, "you love your people like your own children."
With that, he turned to leave—only to find the Spirit World passage forcibly closed, the silvery membrane of exit rippling and hardening like frozen mercury.
He stiffened, turning back slowly. "You… this is?"
"I merely suggested you prepare to leave," Elaria replied coolly. "I never said it had to be now."
"You still need to digest the Calamity characteristic. My seal is rather unique. Each time you use the power of Calamity, a portion of the trait merges with your being. Only after you've assimilated enough will the seal become self-sustaining outside my presence."
"Oh… so it's a crude violent suppression technique that requires constant maintenance. And I'm the battery," Eli translated, combining Spectator deduction with the pragmatism of the White Towern.
Elaria's expression remained unreadable. "I watched your battle with that Sea King from the Church of Storms."
"It was appalling."
"You jumped from Sequence 5 to Sequence 3 far too quickly. Storm, Spectator, White Towern… even a sliver of something else. And yet, you haven't mastered any of them. Your performance was like trying to stab someone with the fletching end of an arrow."
Eli raised both hands. "I'll learn, I'll learn…"
What transmigrator came equipped with combat experience anyway? He wasn't a reincarnated general—he used to be a normal person who'd never even thrown a punch. In this world, there was no compensation for killing someone, but you could die at any moment for free.
"Come here," Elaria said, beckoning with one finger, legs crossed. "I'll teach you."
"Is this… really appropriate? Should we not change venues?" Eli asked, frowning at the enclosed Spirit World domain. "It'd be a shame to destroy the pocket dimension you worked so hard to stabilize."
"It's fine. We'll start with the basics."
She rose from the throne and walked over, her steps light but purposeful.
"Basics? Like what—Beyonder ability control? Practical ritual spells?"
"Neither," Elaria said.
"What you need is close-quarters combat."
As she finished speaking, thunder exploded in Eli's ears. A streak of silver light flickered before his eyes—and then his body was sent hurtling backward like a rag doll, smashing into a marble pillar with a resounding crack.
He coughed, rolled twice on the floor, and groaned. Before he could even speak, Elaria appeared at his side in a blur and kicked him again.
"Wait!" he shouted, managing to grab her ankle mid-air.
The force made even her wrist go slightly numb. He looked up, flushed with indignation.
"Can't you conjure an elemental avatar to do the hitting? It feels weird punching you! It's awkward. Gross!"
"Where should I hit you then?" he continued. "The face? The chest? The stomach? The shoulder's the only 'safe' place and that's not fair! I don't want to fight a woman like this. Spells are fine. Weapons, fine. But punching and kicking a familiar face? I hate this."
Before transmigrating, he didn't smoke, didn't drink, didn't fight. Just a decent, boring university student. Not someone who enjoyed this sort of sparring.
He hated fighting.
He was only good at killing.
"Do you think I'm playing house with you?" Elaria snapped. "You can strike wherever you want. Why didn't you care about decorum when you fought that Sea King? Suddenly now you don't want to fight women? You care about that?"
"No," she narrowed her eyes. "Looking at your face… you don't want to fight someone you know. You're afraid it'll feel childish, like a playground brawl? You're worried about dignity?"
"Honestly, you're making me reconsider letting you out into the world. You'll die without knowing what hit you."
Eli's grip on her ankle faltered subconsciously. Elaria took the opportunity to deliver another clean kick, sending him skidding across the palace floor.
"What kind of era did you come from?"
"So many useless taboos. You touch a foot and recoil like you've broken a vow. If you weren't born extraordinary, I'd wonder how you'd survive at all. You're hardly a man."
The ancient murals surrounding them—depictions of primordial war—seemed to silently agree with her brutal philosophy.
Zzzzt! Zzzzt!
Lightning crackled again. Eli's hair stood on end from both electricity and indignation. She kept kicking without warning—was sneak attacking her exclusive right?
Thunder surged around him as he lunged forward. The air warped and tightened like shackles around the Elf Queen.
Elaria didn't resist. She stood still, silver brows arching slightly with anticipation.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Eli tackled her. They rolled twice across the stone floor. Lightning bloomed from Elaria's fingertips like silver needles, piercing his defenses and burrowing into his skin. His hand rose—scales glimmering—ready to strike.
But still she didn't flinch. Her eyes reflected calm disinterest. She flicked her finger—just once—and the seal on the Calamity characteristic partially unraveled.
The personality beneath Eli's restraint shifted. Thunder rumbled low in his chest as brutality crept into his gaze. The blow came down—
Thump!
—but landed beside her head instead, cracking the stone floor with a lightning-infused crater.
Electric snakes hissed and danced around his clenched fist. His hair fell loose across his face, shadowing his expression.
What… am I doing?
This isn't right.
Why hit her?
He hesitated. His mind drifted. Were they simulating a real battle or just role-playing pain? Should he have kicked instead? It all felt meaningless.
Couldn't he just kill her instead?
He'd destroy a village with lightning and not care if they were old, young, male, female, or clergy.
But this?
This was… uncomfortable.
The child who'd once been named Xia Ran, who'd never fought or cut class, was trembling.
How was he supposed to hit her?
"You're quite interesting," Elaria murmured, brushing her fingers along his stiff wrist.
"You don't revere me like the other elves do. You don't fear the Six Gods, not even the former Sun God."
"You're wilder than aberrants in combat. When we first met, you weren't even intimidated by an Angel."
"And yet now, with just a bit of familiarity, you're full of hesitation. When you subconsciously thought to blast me with an electric ball, you had no such scruples. But now, with your fist, you're like a conflicted child."
Eli looked away, planning to rise, but Elaria gently smiled and said:
"In such a hurry to get up?"
"Don't you want to ride me a little longer?"
Clang!
The words hit like thunder.
Eli froze. His posture locked in place.
His mind went blank.
His pointed ears flushed crimson, while his face turned ghostly pale.
He remained like that—a stiff, trembling corpse.
---