The morning mist clung to the valley like a veil, soft and gray against the broken skyline of the Tenth-Floor City. Dew glimmered on the stone ramparts, and the faint bleating of beasts echoed through the mountain air.

Luciel didn't have to wait long.

Waldo and his men soon arrived, their boots thudding over the stone causeway, wooden crates clutched to their chests. They bowed briefly before laying the boxes open on the table — inside, the crystalline shimmer of beast spars glowed faintly, catching the dim light like embers trapped in ice.

"The seedlings you requested," Luciel said, sliding a parchment toward them.

They nodded, reverent and careful, packing the young plants into their carts as though handling relics of the gods.

As they turned to leave, Luciel called out softly, "Liyi Yi."

The woman paused, meeting his gaze.

"Go tonight," he said. "And remember — pack your things."

A flicker of comprehension lit her eyes. She bowed quickly, suppressing her excitement. "Understood."

When she left, she carried away only a few empty wooden boxes — decoys, Luciel knew. Disguises meant to mask her departure when night fell. The confusion would serve its purpose; few would suspect that tonight's thief was one of his own.

Mirean Moon, standing beside him, tilted her head. "Why not invite her to stay? To join Black Tortoise City?"

Luciel smiled faintly, the expression as unreadable as his tone. "Why should I?"

Mirean's brows knit. "I don't know what you're thinking half the time."

"You don't need to," Luciel replied lightly.

But she caught something beneath his ease — an undercurrent of distance. It stirred a question she'd wanted to ask for weeks: Why did you invite me, then?

The words almost left her lips, but pride stopped them.

Luciel glanced at her sidelong, his voice suddenly quiet. "A man who chooses to be a puppet of water… isn't difficult to understand."

Mirean blinked. "A what?"

He shrugged, almost playfully. "Someone who flows where others push him. A man who becomes what others need him to be."

Her jaw tightened. "I'm no puppet," she said sharply. "I inherited a duty — nothing more."

The words escaped her before she could think, and when she realized it, she felt his gaze sharpen.

Luciel's mouth twitched, half amused, half curious. "I suppose you want to ask how I knew what you were thinking?"

Mirean stepped back a pace, clutching her leather-bound notebook to her chest. "Don't tell me you've awakened mind reading."

He chuckled, low and dry. "No. You're just easy to read."

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"You wear your thoughts like jewelry," Luciel said, rolling his eyes. "Anyone can see them sparkle."

Mirean's mouth fell open, but before she could fire back, Mino piped up from a nearby stall. "I thought she said she was a water puppet," the rabbit-eared girl murmured.

"I heard that too," whispered Sophia, brow furrowed. "Does that mean she… produces water?"

Alec, arranging tools on the table, coughed into his hand, doing his best to appear invisible.

Mirean's cheeks turned crimson. "You—!" She spun around with a flustered huff, her silver hair whipping like silk in the breeze.

Luciel merely smirked and looked away. "You make it too easy."

---

By the time the sun crested the hills, the thieves' families had returned — men, women, and children bearing bundles of cloth and cracked pots, eyes red from sleeplessness but lit with determination.

"They're all here," said Li Yueqing, his tone cold but respectful.

Luciel nodded. "They're yours to organize," he said to Mirean.

"Yes, my lord," she replied, her voice composed now, her earlier embarrassment gone as though it had never existed. She moved through the crowd with quiet authority, assigning groups, checking lists, recording names in her ledger.

Luciel closed his eyes and sent a thought outward — a thread of command woven into the will of the great beast below.

Black Tortoise, raise a stair.

The ground trembled.

A low rumble spread through the valley as the earth heaved upward, slabs of stone folding and locking into place. A massive, 'Z'-shaped stairway spiraled up the tortoise's back, each step broad enough for a wagon.

Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.

Luciel stood unmoved, his cloak snapping in the rising wind. "Take your things," he said to his companions. "We're returning first."

He couldn't linger; there was too much to do. The rock platform still required control, and the beast spars needed to be processed before night.

Mino hefted a wooden crate nearly her size, filled with glittering spars. Alec and the others followed, carrying cloth and food.

"Elara," Luciel called, "bring the triangle sheep."

The white-haired girl turned. "Alina's got it."

The pink-haired Alina appeared, dragging the bewildered sheep by its neck with one hand and gripping its back legs with the other. "I've got it!"

Luciel stifled a sigh. "That will do."

He looked to Mirean once more. "The rest is yours."

She inclined her head gracefully. "Go. I'll see to everything."

Luciel raised his hand. Fine strands of silk shimmered from his fingertips — the threads of Qiansi, his will made tangible. They wrapped around the rock platform, tightening as he murmured, "Hold steady."

The platform groaned and began to rise, carrying him and his companions upward. The thieves hanging on the outer wall stared in wide-eyed confusion as the stone lifted past them. Their families below were walking up the new stairway, carrying bundles and tools — not weeping, not begging.

The thieves' faces twisted in disbelief.

Why are they coming?

What's happening?

But no one answered them.

Luciel's gaze didn't even linger. He had other plans in motion.

The platform docked against the city's upper wall. One by one, they crossed onto the terrace and entered the hall.

"Bring all the spars," Luciel said quietly.

The girls obeyed, piling the stones onto the long oak table. They glittered like frozen stars, casting fractured light against the walls.

Luciel rested his palm on the pile and closed his eyes. System, convert all beast spars.

A hum filled his skull — low, resonant, electric.

"Transformation complete," the voice within said. "Total evolution points acquired: 1,185,960."

Luciel's breath caught. A grin broke across his face. "More than a million…" he whispered. "It's enough."

Enough to evolve one seventh-tier beast. Enough to elevate another to the sixth. Enough to reshape the future of Black Tortoise City.

When he opened his eyes again, the stones were gone.

Alina blinked at the empty tabletop. "Wha—where did they go?"

Elara leaned close, her tone calm and knowing. "Luciel can absorb the power within beast spars. It's one of his awakening gifts."

"Awakening?" Alina whispered. "I've never seen anything like that."

Elara's smile was faint. "The Awakened come in many forms. You remember the man who could shrink himself to the size of a coin?"

Alina's eyes widened. "Right. I thought that was a myth."

Luciel's voice cut across the room. "Elara, bring the triangle sheep."

The creature bleated miserably from the corner. Elara tugged it forward, and Luciel placed his hand on its head.

"System," he murmured, "tame and evolve to level five."

The air rippled. Light pulsed from his palm, threads of golden energy crawling through the animal's body.

"Domestication complete," said the inner voice. "Evolution in progress. Consuming eleven thousand one hundred ten evolution points."

The sheep grew. Muscles swelled beneath its wool; its horns lengthened, splitting and curling like molten iron. The creature let out a deep, resonant bleat as its wool blackened, shimmering with an oily sheen.

When the light faded, a towering beast stood before them — nearly two meters tall, six horns crowning its skull in jagged spirals, one small and glinting at the tip of its nose.

"The Hexagon Devil Ram," Luciel murmured, eyes gleaming. "A fine mutation."

Another pulse of light flashed across his hand.

"Talent inherited: Impact Reflex."

He felt a jolt, like electricity crawling beneath his skin. His arm tingled; his bones thrummed. He exhaled sharply, flexing his fingers as the sensation faded.

The newly evolved ram snorted, stamping its hooves.

"Let's see what you can do," Luciel said. "Activate natural ability."

The beast gave a strange, metallic bleat. Its wool puffed up.

Then— BOOM!

The ram launched into the air, slammed into the ceiling, ricocheted off a pillar, and bounced across the hall like a living cannonball.

Books and dishes flew. The table cracked in two.

"Stop! Stop—!" Luciel shouted, hurling a line of silk that wrapped around the beast mid-bounce. The web tightened, pinning it to the ground.

The ram bleated once more, bewildered, its six horns tangled like a nightmare of bone.

Luciel rubbed a hand down his face. "Impact Reflex, huh? You're less a ram and more a damn spring."

Mino peered around him, her long ears twitching. "Luciel," she said innocently, "can we eat it?"

He froze. "What?"

She pointed at the ram. "If it's too much trouble, we could just roast it."

Luciel gave her a flat look. "No, Mino. It's… valuable."

"Hmm." She tilted her head. "Could I at least shave it for wool?"

The ram stared at her, wide-eyed and terrified.

Luciel sighed. "Fine. We'll shear it later. I'll make you a sweater."

Mino brightened immediately, tail flicking. "A black one!"

"Of course."

The ram bleated in protest.

Mirean laughed softly from across the room, quill poised above her ledger. "You're collecting quite the menagerie, Luciel."

He smiled faintly. "Every beast has its use."

His gaze drifted to the window, where the fog had begun to lift. Beyond it lay the open road, the vast unknown—and the faint glimmer of something greater stirring in the distance.

The night's game was over, but the next was already unfolding.

And somewhere beneath the calm of his expression, Luciel could feel it—

the steady hum of power building, quiet and immense, like a storm waiting to break.

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