Chapter 167: Chapter 167: The Maiden’s Final Transfer

​Orchid, the hero, stood his ground. His eyes never left Dola.

​A faint smile etched across his face—the smile of a man who had finally found something interesting after a lifetime of boredom. The air between them grew heavy, the mist rolling in sluggishly as if it, too, were held in suspense.

​”The King said an envoy of the Maiden,” Orchid spoke softly. His voice was neither high nor low, just loud enough to be heard. “It turns out the Maiden herself is here.”

​Dola did not respond. She stood beside Dayat, her blue eyes glowing dimly. Her long white cape billowed in the cold night wind. Her silver hair brushed against her face, obscuring part of her features.

​Orchid scanned Dola from head to toe, his gaze methodical. From her silver hair to her crystalline eyes, her white cape to her black bodysuit. He took it all in.

​”Is the legendary destroyer of Aethera truly this weak?”

​He let out a light laugh. It was a short, two-second sound—cynical and devoid of humor. It was the laugh of someone savoring the sight of a titan’s fall.

​Dayat did not lower his HK416. The silver-gold barrel remained leveled at Orchid’s chest, his finger poised on the trigger. Ready.

​”I am Orchid. A descendant of Archon Ometra.”

​Dayat didn’t care.

​He didn’t care about the name. He didn’t care about the lineage. If this man came as an enemy, Dayat would kill him. No introductions were necessary. No pleasantries. No questions.

​Orchid stared at Dayat, waiting for a reaction. Nothing.

​He frowned. “Don’t you want to ask who Archon Ometra was?”

​Silence.

​Orchid sighed. “Fine. It doesn’t matter.”

​His hand gripped the hilt of his sword. The ancient metal felt unnaturally cold—a chill that seeped into his bones and marrow, as if the blade possessed its own consciousness. His fingers tightened.

​Then—he drew.

​Fwusssshhh!

​A blade of blood-red energy ignited. Its low hum vibrated through Orchid’s arm and into his entire frame. The crimson light sliced through the mist, making the shadows of the blackened trees dance in terror. The fog around the blade instantly evaporated.

​”Now,” Orchid said. “I shall finish my task.”

​Dayat pulled the trigger.

​Bang!

​A single 5.56mm round streaked toward Orchid’s chest. Orchid didn’t flinch. His red blade whipped out.

​Ting!

​The bullet was sliced clean in half in mid-air. The metal fragments clattered to the ground. Dayat didn’t stop. He pulled the trigger again.

​Bang! Bang! Bang!

​Three consecutive shots—head, chest, and stomach.

​Orchid moved his sword with a speed invisible to the naked eye.

​Ting! Ting! Ting!

​Three more bullets sliced. Fragments scattered.

​Dayat manifested an M4. Longer barrel, larger magazine. He held his breath and aimed.

​Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

​Six shots in two seconds. Orchid spun like a whirlwind, his crimson blade revolving with him.

​Ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting!

​Every approaching bullet was cut. None slipped through. None went astray.

​Dayat pushed further. He manifested a shotgun—short barrel, loaded with buckshot. He aimed for Orchid’s head.

​Boom!

​Dozens of pellets fanned out, hurtling toward Orchid. Orchid swung his sword horizontally, the wide red energy blade shearing through the air.

​Srak!

​Every single pellet was bisected.

​Dayat manifested a grenade, pulled the pin, and hurled it. Orchid swiped at it in mid-air.

​KABOOM!

​The grenade detonated. Fire and smoke engulfed the area. The explosion echoed through the black trees, and the ground trembled. But as the smoke thinned and the dust settled, Orchid still stood in the same spot.

​Unmoved. Unharmed. His black cloak was stained with the blood of monsters from his previous fight, but he bore no new wounds.

​Dayat manifested weapon after weapon—anything that crossed his mind. M16, AK-47, MP5, a Pindad SPR at close range. Pistols. Revolvers. Nothing worked.

​Dola didn’t stay idle.

​She raised both hands, her fingers splayed. A brilliant, searing blue light gathered at her fingertips. A wave of blue energy surged toward Orchid.

​Orchid parried with his sword. The red blade collided with the blue wave.

​CRACK!

​The wave shattered, dissolving into the air. Dola sent a second wave—larger, faster, brighter. Orchid parried again, this time using both hands. His red blade spun, absorbing the blue energy and redirecting it to the side. The wave slammed into a tree to the right, shattering the trunk. The tree collapsed with a thunderous roar.

​Dola raised her hands higher. The light at her fingertips grew blinding. She prepared a third wave—the largest yet.

​But her body began to fail. Her eyes flickered—blue, dead, blue, dead. Her hands trembled. Not from fear, but from a systemic failure. The Seal of the Six Goddesses was taking its toll; she couldn’t push herself any further.

​She tried to release the third wave. The blue light swelled.

​Then—Glitch.

​The light at her fingertips died. Dola fell to her knees.

​Her knees hit the ground with a dull thud. Her white cape spread out over the dirt. Her silver hair fell in a mess, veiling her face.

​”Dola!” Dayat turned his head.

​That was a mistake.

​Orchid moved. Faster than anything Dayat had ever seen. His red blade streaked forward. Dayat had no time to dodge, no time to block, no time to manifest.

​Srak!

​The blade sliced across his left arm. His tactical jacket tore. His skin split. Crimson blood sprayed, soaking the ground and his sleeve.

​Dayat fell. The HK416 slipped from his hand, hitting the dirt with a thud and sliding out of reach. He clutched his wound, teeth gritting. Pain radiated from his shoulder to his fingertips. But the physical pain paled in comparison to what he saw: Dola, still on her knees, struggling to focus.

​Dola crawled. Her knees scraped against the rough, gravel-filled earth. Her white cape was now stained with dust, mud, and blood. She didn’t care.

​One meter. Two. Her hands shook. Three meters. Four.

​She reached Dayat’s side. Her trembling hand reached out and cupped his face. Her cold fingers touched his warm cheek.

​”Dayat.”

​Dayat looked at her. His eyes were still focused despite the agonizing pain coursing through his body.

​”I am going to transfer everything I know to you,” Dola whispered. Her voice was thin, barely audible. “All of it.”

​Dayat blinked. “What?”

​”Maiden technology. Physics. Biology. War strategy. Weapon blueprints. Ancient history. Everything I have. Everything I have stored for thousands of years.”

​”But—”

​”A human brain is not designed for this.” Dola’s voice trembled. “The probability of your survival… is fifty percent.”

​Dayat remained silent.

​Dola didn’t stop. She kept speaking, though her voice was breaking. “I don’t want to lose you. But this is the only way.”

​Dayat looked back. Castle Zero stood firm behind them. Inside, Lunethra was guarding the children. Kancil. Loy. Riri. They would all die if Orchid entered.

​Dayat looked back at Dola. Tears were streaming down her cheeks—silent, steady, soaking her pale face.

​”Do it,” Dayat said. His voice was firm. No hesitation.

​Dola shuddered. Her entire body shook as she leaned into him. Her lips pressed against Dayat’s. It was a soft, unhurried kiss.

​A blue light erupted from her body, blinding and intense. The data began to flow.

​Dayat didn’t scream. But his body went into convulsions. His muscles seized—arms, legs, stomach, back. His eyes were clamped shut, his lids twitching. The pain in his head felt like his skull was boiling, like someone was pumping an entire ocean into a small glass.

​Dola held him tight, her lips still locked with his. Her tears fell onto his cheeks.

​The data surged.

​Physics: Gravity, Electromagnetics, Thermodynamics.

Biology: Human anatomy, Aetheran anatomy, tissues, cells, DNA.

Maiden Technology: Binary structures, energy reactors, shields, cannons, sensors.

Blueprints: HK416, M4, M134 Minigun, Pindad SPR, Desert Eagle, Glock.

Strategy: Formations, tactics, logistics.

Ancient History: Aethelgard, the Maiden of Reason, the War against the Six Goddesses, the Treachery of Archon Ometra.

​Everything Dola knew, stored for millennia, poured into Dayat’s brain. His human mind—limited, fragile—struggled to process the tide. But it couldn’t be stopped.

​Orchid watched. He didn’t attack. Not yet.

​He simply stood there, his red blade humming in his right hand. He stared at the blue shield that had suddenly formed around Dayat and Dola—a perfect, transparent sphere, buzzing softly.

​”What are you doing?” he asked.

​No answer. Orchid waited a few seconds. Still nothing. He raised his sword with both hands, the red blade held high. He delivered a strike with full force.

​CLANG!

​The red blade struck the blue shield. Sparks of red and blue showered the ground. But the shield didn’t break. It didn’t crack. It didn’t even flicker.

​Orchid stepped back and lowered his sword. He didn’t try again. He simply stood outside the barrier, observing Dayat’s convulsing body and Dola’s tear-streaked face. He was in no rush.

​Inside the shield, Dola’s form grew dim. The blue glow that usually radiated from her was fading. Her silver hair grew dull. Her eyes were losing their light. She didn’t care. She just kept whispering against his lips between the kisses.

​”Don’t die.”

Kiss.

“Don’t die.”

Kiss.

“Don’t die.”

​Dayat couldn’t respond. His brain was too full, the pain too immense. All he could do was endure. But his fingers—the fingers of his uninjured left hand—moved.

​Slowly. Painfully. He reached for Dola’s hand. He gripped it.

​Dola smiled—a soft, tragic smile. Her dimming eyes sparkled for a brief moment. She gripped him back.

​The blue shield held. Orchid waited. Inside the castle, Lunethra stood guard, her heart heavy with the fading light outside.

​In the control room, Dalgor sat frozen. “Survive,” he whispered to the silence.

​The data kept flowing. The kiss continued. The shield remained. Orchid waited. And the Maiden’s tears didn’t stop.

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