"How long until the channel fully opens?" I shouted, dodging a sound wave from Ophelia that split the stone floor behind me into two grooves of black glass, the heat searing the back of my neck even though I was already two steps clear.
"Noa Genesis calculates three minutes," Noa Genesis answered itself, cold and precise as always, though the hum around it made its voice tremble slightly. "Perhaps less."
Three minutes. I'd once spent longer than that just deciding on a dinner menu at the castle, arguing with myself over whether meat or wine better suited a Demon King, and now the entire fate of the mortal world hung on a span shorter than that.
The torn scrap from Amon's tome surfaced in my memory again, word for word, as clear as if I'd read it only yesterday. The Third Phase of the King's Domain is not unlocked by blood or fire. It is unlocked by forced silence—a victory in the place that should be singing.
