"Ah!"

The moment the chandelier plummeted from the ceiling, the substitute yanked Lys back just in time. The massive square light fixture smashed violently onto the floor right in front of her, sending out a spray of sharp fragments that cut into her small feet through her white stockings.

Lys barely registered the stinging pain. She anxiously asked, "Are you okay?"

Unlike her, the substitute would instantly dissipate at the slightest hint of fatal damage. If Lys were currently a helpless doll, the substitute would be pure foam.

The clone didn't answer. It simply scooped Lys up, carried her over the glittering sea of shattered glass, and continued its silent, loyal flight down the corridor.

Behind them, the cold Black Knight pursued at a measured, unhurried pace. Her scale-like armor clung tightly to her frame, the ebony helmet was adorned with sweeping crow-feather plumes, and her dark silver boots thudded heavily against the carpet. Every step she...