Round 39: Mist

Kayro?!
The entire world in Morriel’s eyes was covered by a hazy, white mist—a “true vision” capable of revealing all falsehoods—yet what it showed was only an endless sea of misty illusions, confirming the reign of a goddess.
“Mist, mist!” Blackhorn howled, his shrill voice turning hoarse as his body trembled uncontrollably like a withered leaf about to be swept away by a storm. O’Sullivan beside him trembled slightly at his lips but said nothing.
A silver-bell-like laugh came from somewhere unknown. Sometimes it sounded distant, like an echo fading into the mountains, other times it was right by the ear, so close that one could feel the cold breeze behind their neck, as if a playful little sister were blowing in their ear.
“But I really must thank you, Sister Morriel…”
The voice’s owner emerged from the swirling mist. Kayro, or rather, Lady Mist, sat atop a silver staff floating in midair. Between the delicate triangular holders at the tip of the staff, where gems should be set, swirled mist that danced like flames, descending weightlessly.
Compared to a few years ago, Kayro had grown significantly; the youthful innocence in her features had given way to a gradually blossoming grace. Yet her cheerful and sweet smile remained unchanged, along with the gem pendant at her chest—something Morriel had forgotten what it looked like or had never really paid attention to before.
Now Morriel saw clearly. At first glance, the pendant seemed like a rare but not uniquely precious star sapphire. Yet if one stared at it for a while, one’s gaze and even soul would be drawn into it, into the nebula-like mist swirling within the sapphire—real yet illusory, profound yet empty, encompassing everything yet containing nothing.
Similar to the vision in O’Sullivan’s eyes, this was Lady Mist’s divine realm.
Morriel tore her gaze away from the pendant, feeling slightly dizzy.
“Without your help and that of Mr. Forty-Seven, it would be truly difficult for me to deal with these dark servants of Xyrik alone.” Kayro floated down to the open space between the two groups using her staff. The swirling white mist covered the dim waters and rocky shores in the cave, lending the cold cavern a touch of grace and ethereal beauty.
With her back to O’Sullivan and Blackhorn, seemingly unguarded, she said, “Really, Sister Morriel… won’t you consider becoming my first follower after my resurrection? As a reward for everything you’ve done for me, I promise that as long as you live, you will always be the ruler of all Mist Churches across the realms. And even when your soul finally leaves the primary material plane…”
At this point, Kayro stroked the pendant. “I promise… your soul will not be taken away by the River of Death. You will come to me, free from the bonds of mortals, and gain eternal life!”

By the end, Kayro’s voice had transcended the natural laws of sound propagation through the air; instead, it directly infused an almost irresistible will into everyone’s souls, making them realize that no matter how outstanding a human might be, they could only bow their heads before the gods—because that was their innate and inescapable humble nature.
Milia gripped her long sword, worried about whether the red-robed mage could resist such temptation. The promises of the Mist were sweet as venom, a splendid garment woven from blades—
“My daughters of light, I need you to stop the Goddess of Lies… to prevent the great disaster she might bring to the world for her own selfish desires.”
The voice of the Glory Lord echoed in her mind, helping her resist the power of the Lady of Mist.
As for what a complete revival of the Mist would entail, the Glory God did not specify—perhaps because he deemed it unnecessary, or maybe… perhaps even the great Ammonra, under the shadow of the Mist, did not know what this goddess, whose very existence was lies and illusions, truly intended to do.
Milia pushed this almost blasphemous thought out of her mind and waited quietly.
Moriel focused her mind. In dealings with gods, this was no easy task, especially when the conversation was about herself.
“I have only one small request… please release Kayro.” The mage knew she had to strike a balance—showing proper respect while holding firm to her principles. “To you, Kayro’s body is merely a vessel, an unimportant shell… If you can spare this innocent girl unnecessary suffering, I assure you I will do my utmost to help you return to your divine realm as soon as possible…”
“Trying to skin a tiger! Foolish red-robed one!” Black Horn laughed wildly again, his hoarse voice laced with sharpness. “Do you think we would kill this girl named Kayro! If she’s just a temporary vessel for the Lady of Mist in the material world, what’s the point of doing that?!”
“She is now the Lady of Mist! The Lady of Mist is her!” Black Horn pointed at Kayro, who showed no intention of stopping him. “To prevent herself from dissipating right after awakening due to a lack of power to sustain her divine flame, the Mist had no choice but to take this girl’s soul and merge it with hers! She can now never leave this girl named Kayro, so your request is essentially the same as killing her! Hahahahahaha! How ridiculous, red-robed one! You’ve foolishly resisted our Dark Sun Church for so long, and now you want to carry out the prince’s task for us! Go ahead, red-robed one—extinguish the Lady of Mist’s divine flame, and you can save this girl—”
The mist beneath Kayro’s feet surged.
Several strands of mist stretched out from the sea of fog that rose like a tide, swirling around the girl seated on her staff. Meanwhile, Kayro’s long hair fluttered, her already snow-white face seeming to be coated in silver powder, turning dark and shifting. Her lips revealed a blade-like cruelty amid the shifting light and shadow, while her eyes emitted a terrifying glow, like that of a bright moon… In an instant, the Lady of Mist truly awakened within Kayro, and Moriel could even feel the surrounding space and time trembling and distorting.

There was no longer any trace of Kayro before Moriel. Now, it was merely an incarnation of divine power that maintained Kayro’s form—the true body of Lady Mist.
Where was the girl with the sweet smile from the Rain City Magic Shop in that fog that covered the sky?
Moriel’s heart clenched; it seemed there was no turning back.
“A clumsy lie,” Lady Mist sneered. “Even if he gave that kid Shirek as many assistants as demons from the Bottomless Abyss, he still couldn’t handle even the simplest divine duties.”
“Though that fool wasn’t telling the truth… I can’t take any risks now.” The goddess disappeared into the mist. “It’s a pity you refuse my offer, stubborn girl. Still, I’m grateful for your tolerance and wait for you to change your mind—without your help, it would have been quite difficult for me to gain the power of Shirek’s followers.”
“Go! Get lost!” Blackhorn尖 shrieked shrieked. “Don’t think you can steal my master’s power to strengthen yourself—”
The white fog swallowed him and O’Sullivan in an instant.
“Catch her!” Moriel ordered Forty-Seven. She no longer cared if he might accidentally harm Kayro. If Lady Mist continued to drain the divine power given to Shirek’s followers, just as she had in the Swamp Temple and Fishman Island, dealing with her would be even more difficult—
Forty-Seven, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, didn’t follow Moriel’s order. Instead, he suddenly turned in another direction.
Lightning that spanned the entire cave struck him as he turned. The mist spread by the goddess was blown away by the violent explosion, and the resulting smoke and steam replaced the fog as obstacles blocking vision—before slowly dissipating.
A vague, graceful figure stood over Forty-Seven, who had been dragged and left with deep marks before finally sinking into the rocks. A silver spear in her hand was coiled with bluish-white, dazzling lightning. The lightning flowing from beneath Forty-Seven proved that he had been pierced by this lightning spear.
She was the first person besides Singer to defeat Forty-Seven in just one encounter. Was that another divine weapon mentioned by Forty-Seven? Why would she help Lady Mist?
Moriel didn’t have time to worry about Forty-Seven, nor perhaps did she need to—because the guy completely ignored the spear piercing his body and forced himself to stand up using movements that defied normal human mechanics. He grabbed his enemy’s throat, and the huge metal gun in his right hand deformed with a roar—God only knew what it would become.
What needed attention now was Lady Mist, who had gathered into a large mass of fog, along with O’Sullivan and Blackhorn.
Their condition at that moment was extremely terrifying.
The fog surrounding the two Dark Sun servants had become almost liquid and transparent. Kayro in the center was barely visible, with only her face remaining slightly clearer.

O’Sullivan and Hei Jiao now resembled two people on the verge of drowning. The former count was still in somewhat better condition, but Hei Jiao, whose body was writhing uncontrollably, was already on the brink of disappearing entirely. He flailed his arms and opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out—all his divine powers were stuck in his throat. The writhing mist no longer possessed its once ethereal beauty; instead, it had become eerily grotesque—nothing short of a devouring amorphous monster.

Hei Jiao’s body gradually disintegrated. He looked like flesh swallowed by a stomach or metal dissolving in strong acid. His face, twisted in agony, swelled and shrank alternately, as if pulled back and forth by an invisible force, just like a gummy bear… The power of the mist was unraveling his Hierarchy divine energy bit by bit and assimilating it. Hei Jiao’s fate was to vanish completely after this feast of the gods, not even leaving a trace.

“Stop!” After a moment of shock, Milia immediately took action, trying to stop Lady Mist from continuing her “meal.”

“Get out of the way!” Even faster than her was Morriel’s magical attack.

Lightning-like bolts were thrown from Morriel’s hand, striking the transparent mist wall and producing thunderous booms. Terrifying vibrations spread outward from the lightning, creating ripples in the air. The waves from one impact before they faded were pushed by those behind, intensifying the chaos until the air itself shattered under the force, destroying everything within it.

Milia stepped back several times but was still drenched by the turbulent waves caused by the sound waves, her ears ringing.

Yet the mist, which bore the full force of these sound waves, only trembled slightly before continuing its relentless digestive process.

A silver shadow flashed past Milia like a stone thrown by a catapult.

In a flash, Milia saw that the spear in the Steel Warrior’s hand had broken.

The shockwave from her impact shook the entire cave, and then 47 jumped in, accompanied by a continuous screeching roar. The weapon in his hand could hardly be called a weapon anymore—probably even the demon butchers in the Abyssal Depths had never seen such a nightmare. The shape of the robotic arm cannon transformed even more terrifyingly, with a massive axe blade forming beneath its long barrel. It might not even be accurate to call it an axe blade, as it was thicker than the walls of ordinary houses in Deepflow City and almost as long as a two-handed sword. When 47 raised it high, it looked like he was holding up an iron door panel—the roar came from its blade, a row of wildly vibrating sharp teeth that blurred into a single mass due to their high speed.

It was this thing that severed the Steel Warrior’s spear. Given enough time, it might even be able to saw through an entire mountain.

“Are you ready to receive Makak’s love, Keri?” 47 held his axe-like chainsaw sword, glanced around, then turned toward the mist where Lady Mist was hiding. “I’ll give you a piece of jelly first!”

The chainsaw sword and the mist wall collided, unleashing intense flames—the embodied divine power faced its most violent and brutal challenge, and indeed a crisis arose. The divine power burned 47’s body, but he turned a blind eye; half of his body was already submerged in the mist, while the chainsaw sword advanced even further. “Be careful!” Moriel’s magical silver blade struck “Kerry,” who was lunging at 47, but passed through her without causing any effect. The female warrior didn’t even glance at her and landed directly on 47’s shoulder with a afterimage. The broken spear in her hands had transformed into two gleaming long swords, which pierced both of 47’s shoulders simultaneously. Amidst 47’s roar, the warrior’s swords turned into hooks, pulling him out of the liquid mist and flinging him to the other side of the cave—while 47 was still in mid-air, the warrior rushed back into his arms. The mist writhed, trying to repair the damage caused by 47. Moriel fired two dark green dissociation beams into it. This had some effect, at least giving Milia, who was bathed in white holy fire, time to rush into the gap. Inside the mist, Black Horn was left with only a bare torso; its limbs had been eroded. O’Sullivan seemed to be in a coma as well, except for his misty eyes, which grew brighter and more radiant. “You really—! I won’t tolerate you endlessly!” The goddess’s furious cry echoed through the cave, its sheer force enough to make people dizzy. But this had nothing to do with the two monsters fighting each other. Severely burned 47 had managed to regain the upper hand, pressing “Kerry” down with his roaring chainsaw sword, sneering as he prepared to split her in two. The female warrior blocked with her arms, buying time to avoid being torn apart. Milia struggled forward. Immense resistance pressed in from all sides; the seemingly calm mist was like a violent tsunami, and she was like a small fish trying to swim upstream against such currents. It seemed like a distance greater than that of an entire world. But finally, Milia touched the mist—she didn’t attack with her sword because she thought that if she could pull Kayora, possessed by the mist, out of it, Moriel might have a solution. A crushing blow, capable of suffocating a soul, passed through Kayora’s body and reached Milia, completely scattering the little holy fire left in her. Milia’s face turned pale, blood dripping from her lips—Moriel, seeing the situation worsening, pulled her out with a powerful whip-like force and at the same time drew her healing staff, pouring abundant positive energy into the female holy warrior’s body to barely stop the erosion by the misty divine power. But due to this interruption, the solidified mist began to disperse again. The misty lady, whose essence had been touched, was furious: “Dare you!” Large clouds detached from the mist and rolled toward the two of them, destroying everything in their path—a relentless divine strike. Just before the mist clouds arrived, Moriel unleashed a rainbow barrier of light; the colorful screen rose almost right in front of their noses. She pulled the semi-conscious Milia back quickly. The barrier flickered a few times before disappearing, but it had bought them enough time to escape the cloud’s encirclement.

“Sister Milia!”
Fiona, surrounded by holy fire, rushed forward to stand between the two, her massive swords drawing a silver-white lightning bolt. The mist parted like waves crashing against rocks as Fiona gritted her teeth and held on desperately.
Another bolt shot out from the darkness, piercing through the liquid mist.
Zhen, who had just repelled the flame demon, transformed into a silver lightning bolt. Taking advantage of the Mist Lady’s weakened defenses, she drew on the remaining power of her divinity to strike straight through the gap between Moriel and Milia—
The mist exploded instantly, the holy fire spreading everywhere as a cry of pain echoed from within.
“Stop! Do you want to kill her?” The Power Whip, as if part of Moriel’s body, struck precisely at Zhen’s glowing wings on her back, preventing her from delivering a second attack on Kayro.
The remaining half of the black horn turned into a black torrent. The Mist Lady no longer had time to draw on her remaining divine power; instead, she unleashed it all to repel Zhen, who was as majestic and sacred as an angel.
“What are you doing?!” Fiona swung her sword at Moriel’s hand holding the whip, but it was blocked by a long sword emerging from thin air: “Calm down! You’re not enemies!”
Xirik’s black fire collided with a howling magical hurricane, causing violent explosions as the two forces canceled each other out.
Xinbu, with her black hair moving as if in a breeze, stepped through a spatial portal: “Chloe! Stop the Goddess of Lies!”
The Mist Lady let out a shrill scream: “I will not forgive you, mortals!”
The mist spun rapidly, and the unrestrained divine energy exploded violently, forcing Xinbu to take several steps back as her shields disappeared layer by layer.
The red-haired swordswoman darted forward, narrowly avoiding the chaotic streams of divine energy that were closing in on the mist. Suddenly, she lowered her head sharply; a strand of red hair flew out before being severed—The Steel Warrior passed by her from behind, her fingers gleaming with cold light.
A huge, grotesque wound ran from her forehead down to her waist, showing that she had paid a heavy price to get rid of Forty-Seven. The warrior rushed toward the weakened Mist Lady, who was still holding her staff, lifted her up, and threw her into the center of the mist vortex—the mist also swept away O’Sullivan.
Pure silver fire erupted from Xinbu’s palms, enveloping the warrior in magical flames forged from primordial energy. The Steel Warrior stumbled a few steps, enduring the burning of the silver fire from the outside in.
“Get away! What’s it to you?” Forty-Seven swung her chainsaw sword from behind. If not for Xinbu quickly retracting the silver fire to form a magical shield, she would have been cut in two.
Xinbu was flung aside, while the Steel Warrior became the second victim, cut in half. She bent over, using her limbs to brace herself against Forty-Seven to reduce the destructive impact of the blow. Forty-Seven, like a tank rolling over her, pushed her toward the mist vortex—

Suddenly, the mist surrounding 47 and the Steel Warrior expanded outward violently before contracting back again, as if a video of spreading mist were played in reverse. Eventually, all the mist condensed into a single point in the void, and the usual dimness and chill of Skull Port returned immediately. The mist, O’Sullivan, 47, and “Kerry” all disappeared out of thin air before everyone’s eyes.