Night had fallen. Everyone had left. The dim yellow streetlights cast long, twisted shadows through the bonsai trees lining the courtyard of the District 2 mansion. Inside the house, the air remained heavy—like guilt that refused to dissipate.

  In the living room, Anh ?ào slowly regained consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, sweeping across the familiar room in a haze.

  "Why... am I here? What happened?"

  C?u D?ng immediately sat down beside her, clasping her hand tightly.

  "You’re awake. That’s all that matters. Your mother regained consciousness not long ago either."

  Behind the sofa, Anh Th? gently massaged M? Linh’s shoulders. She turned her head and spoke in a half-chiding tone:

  "You two really gave us all a scare. Brother-in-law’s in the kitchen making porridge with Dì T?."

  In the kitchen, the white ceiling light reflected off Anh Tú’s stern face. He stood silently by the stove, watching the porridge simmer. His brows furrowed, lost in thought.

  Dì T? ladled steaming porridge into two crystal bowls, her hands moving with practiced care as she muttered:

  "Every time Miss ?ào collapses like that, I swear my heart nearly jumps out of my chest… I just hope that Master V?nh and young Trúc Di?n can turn the tide."

  But Anh Tú didn’t reply. His mind echoed with Master V?nh’s last words before departing:

  "The reason we came today with Miss My’s family was because of Mr. D?ng’s niece—Trang. After insulting her, My began experiencing nightmares that very night. That was no coincidence. It was Satan’s punishment."

  Anh Tú whispered under his breath, eyes narrowing as if peering into the void:

  "If what Master V?nh said is true… then Sister Trang has a direct connection to Satan… But if that’s the case, why would the Demon King target his own in-laws? Unless... the sins of the past were never truly buried."

  His gaze darkened with deep suspicion, and his thoughts began to churn—pulling at the threads of long-hidden truths and secrets that his wife’s family had kept buried for years…

  The royal headquarters of the Satanic Mafia Dynasty lay hidden deep in the suburbs of Bình Chánh, veiled behind layers of impenetrable illusionary shields. The grand manor, a fusion of European classical architecture and Eastern mysticism, glowed like a palace from another realm beneath the shroud of night.

  Upstairs, in the vast chamber lit by flickering candlelight, golden flames danced across intricate carvings on agarwood panels—rare and impossibly expensive.

  Trang lay motionless on a massive bed draped in black silk embroidered with the Satanic Royal Crest. Her forehead soaked in sweat, lips pale, body burning with a high fever like she was being consumed from within.

  Beside her, H?ng Nhung sat in silent vigil, never leaving her side—faithfully dabbing her sweat and replacing cold towels. This wasn’t just a future sister-in-law—it was her only true friend, someone she had vowed to protect.

  The heavy ironwood door creaked open.

  Satan entered with Grand Mistress Thái S? trailing close behind. Under the warm golden glow, his presence seemed even more commanding—an aura of dark majesty cloaked in silence. He stepped forward, knelt beside the bed, and placed an icy hand gently against his daughter’s cheek.

  "My daughter... destiny is calling your name. Remember this—there is no pain without purpose. The blood of a Demon King stirring inside you... is awakening."

  Grand Mistress Thái S? narrowed her calculating eyes, counting on her fingers as she murmured:

  "By all predictions, the transformation should’ve completed by dusk. But now it’s nearly midnight... and the signs are still faint."

  Standing nearby, Arian—Crown Prince of the Satanic Royal House—looked down at his suffering sister, his expression twisted in silent torment.

  "After all this... what form will Trang take? What powers will she inherit?"

  The Grand Mistress replied slowly, her voice cold and clinical, like ice water pouring over stone:

  "It varies. Every half-human, half-demon has a different rate of adaptation. The transformation is inevitable… but what form she assumes, and what power she gains… even I cannot predict."

  The room fell into a heavy stillness.

  Outside, the full moon had risen high—its silver glow piercing through the window, illuminating the space like a silent witness to the destiny drawing ever closer...

  Time slipped by in the dim, suffocating room—every breath heavy with dread.

  Then, suddenly—

  "AaaAAAAaaaa!!!"

  Trang jolted upright as if struck by lightning. Her body convulsed, crimson-amber flames flaring in her eyes—eyes no longer human. Her skin glistened with sweat, her limbs trembling uncontrollably, as though something within her was scorching her soul from the inside out.

  "My body... it's burning... Something... something is incinerating my soul!"

  In a wild burst, she leapt from the bed, throwing open the chamber doors with terrifying force.

  "Trang! Stop!!" H?ng Nhung screamed behind her, panicking.

  But the delicate human form of her closest friend was no match for a half-demon in the midst of an awakening. All she could do was cry out for help.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Trang streaked through the hallway like a comet of living flame, every step leaving afterimages of red across the cold marble floor. The glass doors and stone walls vibrated violently as pulses of unstable magic surged from her.

  Outside—beyond the crumbling estate and beneath the cursed moon—she stumbled into the open wasteland behind the manor.

  The full moon hung low and furious in the sky, glowing a deep blood red. Dark clouds twisted and spiraled toward its light, sucked in by the power radiating from the girl below.

  Behind her, Arian, H?ng Nhung, Master Nhan, Grand Mistress Thái S?, and a squad of elite guards had all gathered in silence—watching her writhe, caught in a storm of dark power.

  She stood alone, shuddering beneath the blood moon. The crimson light poured down upon her body, and the ground beneath her cracked and split like lava coursing beneath fragile stone.

  ---

  At the same moment—

  Inside the Black Diamond Citadel nestled in the misty pine hills of ?à L?t...

  An alarm blared to life. Red lights pulsed across the sweeping 180-degree satellite command screen, lighting up the war room in waves of flickering urgency.

  Count Din had been dozing in his research chamber when the siren shattered the silence. He sprang to his feet and rushed toward the control hub.

  "S++ Alert! Unidentified energy surge detected—unrecorded frequency... originating from an abandoned zone in Bình Chánh, southern Saigon!"

  His sapphire eyes sharpened with ancient alertness as he stared at the chaotic waveform—a volatile, monstrous frequency pulsing with unpredictable rhythm

  "What in the abyss is this... The resonance is off the charts. Mutated energy? Or… is something awakening?"

  Din’s fingers flew across the control panel, initiating global encryption and triggering emergency protocol. He stormed toward the door of the commander's chamber, pounding with urgency as red glyphs flashed across the security frame.

  "My Lord! We have a situation—an S++ energy signal just erupted! You need to see this... now."

  The night sky thickened, cloaking the world in a silence older than memory. The full moon loomed above like an ancient eye—watching, judging—its crimson light pouring down upon the trembling figure of Trang, who now stood just outside the illusion barrier shielding the royal mafia headquarters in Bình Chánh.

  Around her, the once-lush trees now stood bare, twisted like claws raking at the heavens. The wind howled like spirits torn from the afterlife, carrying with it a chill from realms beyond death.

  She stood motionless. Arms limp at her sides. Her short tomboyish hair fluttered in an invisible vortex of arcane energy. Even the air itself seemed to freeze—then, she lifted her head.

  And her eyes…

  The moment her brown irises met the blood-red moonlight, they dissolved like mist.

  In their place—two orbs of brilliant crimson ignited in her gaze. But this was not the flame of rage... it was the glacial fire of the void.

  Her left eye became a swirling galaxy—a spiral of cosmic space twisting into a singularity, stars glittering like frozen souls drawn into its pull. It was the Eye of Space.

  Her right eye... a Roman numeral clock, ticking backward. The hands moved with mechanical precision, glowing faintly with silvery-blue magic as if counting time not forward—but in reverse. The Eye of Time.

  A low, soundless boom pulsed from beneath her feet.

  She began to rise—slowly, silently—lifted not by motion or muscle, but as if space and time themselves were exalting her beyond the limits of mortality. Beneath her, a massive spell circle formed—interlocking glyphs of space and time breathing like a living universe.

  Then—her short hair unfurled in a single moment, cascading down her back in a stream of midnight silk, swaying in the winds of destiny. Her body transformed—from a slender girl to a warrior sculpted by divinity: skin bronzed and radiant, waist tight, shoulders powerful, chest full, and every movement pulsing with raw force.

  She no longer resembled a girl—but a General of the Temporal Wars. Her face, though delicate in beauty, now bore the expression of something ancient and unyielding. A single glance from her could shatter reality itself.

  And then—

  From the air behind her, a pair of phoenix wings erupted—not of feather and flesh, but forged entirely from black flame at sub-zero temperature. These wings did not burn; they devoured light. They didn’t blaze—they crystallized. Every flicker of their cold fire froze what it touched, leaving behind suspended shards of black ice that shimmered like diamond dust under the moon.

  Grandmistress Thái S? stumbled back a step, her voice trembling in awe:

  — “Spatial manipulation… temporal dominion… and now, a phoenix of anti-fire… This is… beyond comprehension…”

  H?ng Nhung stared wide-eyed, barely whispering:

  — “Black flames… at negative temperature… I’ve never even imagined such a thing…”

  A silence heavier than death swept the land. It was as if even the winds dared not disturb this sacred moment.

  Something divine—or perhaps monstrous—had awakened.

  Satan slowly closed his eyes, a slow, dark smile curving his lips.

  At last… the daughter he had waited centuries for… had awakened.

  Inside the command chamber of the Black Diamond stronghold in ?à L?t, the silver glow of the satellite screen cast a ghostly light across the breathless faces of those watching.

  Live footage streamed directly from Bình Chánh—under the full moon—rendered the entire room silent.

  On the curved, panoramic monitor, Trang hovered mid-air, her black phoenix wings fully spread. But instead of incinerating the world around her, her wings radiated an unholy cold fire, freezing space itself. Beneath her, the massive space-time magic circle spun slowly, emitting a pale violet-silver luminescence like a pulse from another universe.

  One of the junior demonic analysts, trembling, swallowed hard and stammered:

  — “A black-fire phoenix… at sub-zero temperature… I’ve never even heard of flames that freeze instead of burn…”

  Din narrowed his eyes, his gaze locked on the vortex of energies surrounding the girl.

  — “Space and time manipulation… It matches you perfectly, Commander.”

  In the shadowed corner, Erion sat motionless. The screen's light touched only half of his chiseled, icy face. His crimson gem-like eyes narrowed—sharp enough to slice fate in half.

  He stared directly at the image of the girl suspended midair—and gave a single, solemn nod.

  — “I’ve found… my equal. She bears the wings of a black-fire phoenix... and I bear the wings of a dragon forged from the same flame.”

  The air in the chamber grew denser, as if time itself was holding its breath. All eyes turned toward Erion.

  Din leaned forward, voice low with urgency:

  — “Commander… can you explain what you mean?”

  Erion didn’t turn his head. His gaze remained fixed on the screen where her wings still shimmered like liquid darkness.

  — “They call me the Lord-Class Black Diamond... but few understand where the name truly comes from.”

  He slowly raised his left arm into the light. Along his wrist, streaks of shadowed brilliance gleamed—sharp, angular geometries, as if carved from the very structure of the universe.

  — “I was not born like the rest of you. I had no mother. No father.

  I am a black diamond forged from the negative flame within the heart of a planet… the black core of Hell itself.”

  The young demon analyst’s breath caught in his throat.

  Din exhaled slowly.

  Erion continued, his voice low and reverberating like the murmur of ancient bedrock:

  — “The cores of most worlds burn with flame—red, hot, and consuming.

  But the core of the Shadow World burns cold.

  There, in that place beyond death, flame freezes. Time shatters. Souls are crystallized in stillness.”

  He clenched his fist gently. The space around his wrist cracked like fragile ice, forming jagged, black shards that shimmered faintly like ashes from the stars.

  — “I was forged in that negative flame—

  The black fire that exists only at absolute zero.

  The black flame of Hell’s core, where all concepts of life and death… are erased.”

  — “This fire doesn’t just freeze matter—it freezes space and time,

  Freezes magic and will.

  Anyone struck by it... will have their powers instantly switched to FREEZE mode—completely unusable.”

  A silence heavy enough to suffocate blanketed the room.

  Erion leaned back in his seat, his eyes still locked on Trang, now fully awakened beneath the haunting moonlight.

  — “I believed I was the only one in this universe to carry that flame.

  But now… there is another.”

  — “She didn’t appear by chance.

  She’s no ordinary phoenix.

  Her space and time powers, her divine blood… none of it is coincidence.”

  He narrowed his eyes, gaze piercing beyond dimensions themselves:

  — “She is the missing half...

  of a legend no one has ever fully told.”