4th Day of the 1st Fire Cycle[1], 2000 g.c.
The sky above Velonica ruptured like it had been holding its breath for centuries and finally exhaled. Mana pulsed violently across the country in tidal waves of pressure and magick, slapping the senses of every creature, human, and sociovore alike. The air changed. Not just in temperature or scent, but in weight. It was like gravity had tripled for a few heartbeats. Soft, repetitive charges of energy slammed into existence, so sharp and clear they practically had a sound. A deep resonance, like the planet itself, was ringing in alarm.
Outside Talasi, far from the battlefield, farmers dropped their tools, children stopped mid-play, and house-dwellers stumbled out into their yards, peering up at a twilight sky gone unholy. Trees rustled and froze in intervals like they, too, were confused whether to bow or stand still. Gaia's rings, once subtle and distant, now glimmered in full majesty as the last hour of twilight painted the horizon in haunting reds and solemn purples. Every head turned skyward. Every breath held. It was the perfect drop. The kind of silence that only comes before a boss speaks.
And that's when I stepped out of the portal.
I floated downward, framed by a cyclone of indigo light, with Omnia perched calmly on my shoulder like a phantom raven. My armor, the Noir Empress, gleamed like liquid shadow with veins of starlight running through it. The Red Queen was strapped to my back, humming softly with anticipation. The Blue Queen rested at my hip, pulsing faintly like she knew blood would be drawn soon. I didn't descend. Oh no. A catastrophe doesn't fall; it arrives.
Beneath me, the battlefield was scorched and torn, a shattered gallery of mana burns and half-spoken spells. But my focus locked immediately on the woman lying still beneath my repulsion barrier—my mother, Vericka. Or should I say [Lady Red: Billie Holiday]. She looked different, no doubt... but her mana? That was unmistakably Mom's. I could've found her mana signature in a blizzard, blindfolded, on another planet. That kind of bond doesn't break.
And then my stomach dropped. I felt her. Aunt Glynis—barely. Her mana flickered like a dying fire. And... Uncle Shukaku.
I saw his body. Headless. Still. Everything in me paused for a moment that lasted way too long. I had not made it in time. I had not saved everyone. The weight of failure settled into my spirit like a second spine. I hated this feeling. It tasted like yesterday's promises—broken.
A phantom pain danced along my ribs, followed by a bitter wave of guilt and rage that boiled behind my eyes.
And they felt it.
Januelle turned toward me and locked eyes. She tried to puff up like she was still in control of something, but her body betrayed her. Anxiety ripped through her like a damn sickness. Her blade-hand trembled as she gritted her teeth, eyes wide in something close to terror. She wasn't alone. Every human woman present on that battlefield felt the same thing: that primal, back-of-the-neck, you-ain't-supposed-to-be-here chill. It ran down their spines like liquid ghosts.
Even Jojo—the one holding the scythe, drenched in smugness and holy energy—snapped his head toward me. He eased off Luda like someone had yanked a string in his back. He exhaled like he was already exhausted by the idea of dealing with me.
"So the final boss is here already?" he muttered, voice edged with reluctant respect. "This is gonna be a lot tougher than I thought."
Januelle clenched her sword again, trying to reassemble her ego.
"You there, Devil of Velonica!" she shouted, her voice cracking in places she didn't intend. "Your day of judgment has come!"
But I didn't even flinch in her direction.
My eyes went back to Mom.
With the smallest flick of my finger, I increased the power of my repulsion field. The result was beautiful. Januelle flew like a damn pebble skipping across a lake, flung dozens of yards through the air before slamming into the grass with a shriek and a puff of dirt. I landed next to Mom's still form like Death clocking in for work.
Her body looked drained, her skin pale, her mana signature dangerously thin. But the moment I touched the repellent field and felt the lingering signature of Steez's Temporal Art, I understood. He'd frozen her in time—barely. Her soul was on the brink of collapse, and he had used his ability to stall it. It was holding, but just barely.
I reached out with [Telepathy], brushing gently through her mind like I was flipping pages in an ancient book. Using [Memory Recreation], I watched the final fragments of her awareness: her final thoughts, her pain, her fear, her will.
Omnia knelt down on the opposite side of her, resting a gentle finger beneath Mom's chin, like a daughter saying goodbye.
"I told her long ago this would happen," she said quietly. "Master, she has been trapped in her Trance form. And without the mana of the artifact Mikazuki to feed it, she's been sustaining the form with her life force."
My fists clenched. "How long has she been in [Trance]?"
Omnia didn't meet my eyes. "About fifty years before your birth."
I almost shouted. "Omnia, what the hell?"
"I know, Master. I know." Her voice cracked—not from fear, but from guilt. "I promise to explain everything later. But you must help her first."
I nodded once, jaw tight. "I'm already working on it."
And just like that, the air around me thickened again—no longer just with magick, but with purpose. I wasn't simply back. I was there to change things.
Januelle rose from the dirt with a slow, deliberate grace, like a blade being unsheathed. Her white silk-leather armor clung to her figure, not a single mark or smear across its pristine surface. But the real mess was behind those ice blue eyes. Rage swirled just beneath her polished demeanor, the kind of fury born not from impulse, but from righteous delusion. Her breath steamed as her mana bled into the air—thin streams of frozen vapor shimmered around her, each one popping with a sharp crackle like miniature fireworks forged from frost. A flicker of her aura brushed across the grass and left behind a trail of crystalline ice. She locked eyes onto me—or rather, she stared at the side of my face like she was daring my gaze to meet hers. But I never glanced at her. And just like that, her anger hit its second stage of evolution.
"Your death will crown the rise of the United Womankind. We will rule Gaia — without monsters like you. For it is the will of our Goddess Laniakea."
She didn't shout it. She declared it—like a holy verdict from a self-anointed ruler. Her legs bent and compressed, armor creaking slightly under the torque, and then she exploded forward like a high-pressure round shot from a cannon. Her longsword was high, angled to cleave through flesh and bone in one swift, clean arc. Her trajectory was textbook perfect—only problem was, I didn't play by any textbooks.
My vision never left Mom. Didn't need to. [Kaleidoscope Eyes] gave me a full 360-degree vision. I could hear the rush of wind around her sword. I could feel the vibration in the air from her sudden acceleration. She was hard to miss. I lifted my left arm with casual detachment and bent the laws of nature around her. My control over electromagnetic fields, thanks to the Ultra Skill [Love/Hate] fused with Lunar Mana, made the physics of Gaia feel like toys in my hand. And people? Well… people are just metal-coated bloodbags.
Right before impact, her momentum stopped like she'd slammed into an invisible wall. No recoil. No stumble. Just frozen, suspended mid-stride, with every muscle in her body betraying her. Her blade hovered inches from my aura field, twitching slightly, vibrating with the fury of potential energy denied release.
The air caught its breath.
Gasps erupted across the field. Decima and Krystal audibly inhaled at the same moment. Jojo's body twitched—his instincts told him to jump forward, to act—but he stopped himself. He wasn't stupid. One wrong move and she'd be reduced to a snowflake on the breeze.
Januelle's voice strained through clenched teeth. "What...kinda...spell is this?"
I finally turned my gaze toward them, still kneeling beside Mom. My voice was calm, almost bored. "Look. I plan to turn my attention to you humans once I've dealt with this emergency. Don't worry, I'll give you all a chance to fight for your meaningless lives."
That's when they saw my eyes.
[Heaven's Kaleidoscope] had been active the moment I stepped through the portal, but now it was aimed directly at them—crimson, cerulean, and ultraviolet flames dancing in a cosmic spiral across my irises. Something more than colors. It was depth, like staring into two galaxies made entirely out of nightmares and purpose.
"But," I continued, my tone sharpening like the edge of a blade, "if you wish to throw my grace out the window, I can just kill you all right now and get it over with."
Jojo was the first to break the silence. "Januelle, chill out for the moment! I think we should take his offer."
His outer voice was calm. But in his thoughts? That boy was screaming.
"She has to be crazy or dumb if she doesn't feel his signature. Even with him trying to hide a lot of it, I can still feel the endless void of his magickal power. This is really fucking bad."
Yeah, Jojo. Real bad.
Januelle twitched again, her jaw locking, fists trembling in place. "What? You... spineless... errgh... fine. I... accept."
I didn't smile. I didn't nod. I didn't respond at all.
I just released the magnetic chokehold on her body, let the air ripple as the force collapsed, and flicked my fingers slightly to push her back a few yards, like she weighed nothing more than dust in a breeze. Her boots scraped against the frozen grass, balance barely regained.
By the time she righted herself, I was already ignoring her again. My attention was back on Billie Holiday—my mother, my sensei. That broken, beautiful presence still clinging to her fading life with a soul screaming to rest. I knelt closer, my hands trembling just slightly as I reached toward her, because rage could wait.
But saving her couldn't.
Luda, Steez, and Kimmi formed up around me, tight like gravity pulled them in. Their expressions bounced between relief and uncertainty, watching the other humans regroup behind Januelle across the torn battlefield. The winds had quieted down, but the tension in the air was still razor-wire tight. Across the cracked field of debris, the ice paladin was fuming. Rage curled off her like smoke, even as she stood statuesque, armor spotless and gleaming. That silk-leather suit might've been divine-made, but her pride? That shit was scratched up.
Novara, ever the calm contrast, stood beside her, muttering incantations in a smooth tempo as green-gold healing glyphs traced along her fingertips and drifted over Januelle's frame. The scholar adjusted her glasses calmly, but I didn't miss the quick glance she threw my way, like she knew something deeper was brewing. I knew, too. The blonde ice knight wasn't done trying. But she'd have to wait in line to fail.
Luda's voice broke the moment. "New abilities and a new woman. Why am I not surprised?"
He wasn't joking, but there was a glint of something else in his eye when he glanced at Omnia. His gaze lingered for a split second—long enough for me to know he was thinking of Roxy. The resemblance must've hit him like a whisper from a memory. But he shelved it quickly, refocusing on me.
"I'll work on introductions afterwards," I said, eyes still glowing with residual intensity from the gankyril of [Heaven's Kaleidoscope].
Steez piped up, concerned and straight to the point. "Brodie, you got any idea what's going on with Mom?"
Kimmi stepped forward. "Big bro, she got stabbed earlier. Do you think that's messing with her status?"
"I do know what's going on," I said, shaking my head. "And no—the stab wound ain't the reason she's dying."
My [Kaleidoscope Eyes] were still active, filtering and breaking down everything I needed at the subatomic and soul level. I could see Mom's Soul Core like a shattered moon. Cracks ran through it in a spiraling maze, each fracture glowing with stressed mana pulses. Inside the fractured sphere, spiritons glimmered like lightning bugs, erratic and flickering. Magitons, normally smooth in motion, now jolted around like they were being electrocuted. And psions, the mental-spiritual particles that fueled will, were dwindling like they'd lost direction.
That's when [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] slid into my thoughts, his voice like a cool wind behind my mind.
"Analysis complete. Master, it's as you theorized. Since the Trance skill isn't fully developed, her Soul Core can't regulate the divine energy it unlocked. It's forcing a constant overload."
"Damnit, Mom. Why didn't you tell me this was going on?"
"It also appears that she cast the Soul Binding Ritual on her own soul and the spirit essence of her Trance, causing her to become her own Guardian Armament. But to sustain a Guardian Summoning costs mana that she's still paying—with her life force."
Man… pause. Let me catch you up, because this shit ain't light. See, after I used [Trance] in the fight with Taurus, I'd been diving deep, breaking it down, dissecting the logic behind it like a mad scientist with a grudge. Turned out, the Divinity Skill basically unlocked the Aeon inside a Vessel Skill and fused it into the user's core. But cores weren't meant for that. It was like plugging a volcano into a battery—something was gonna blow.
But Mom… Mom had found a way to pull it off. She became her own Armament. That was damn near insane.
"Mom's basically stuck wielding a fraction of an Aeon's power," I explained, my voice low. "And her spirit battery can't handle it."
Luda blinked. "You're talking about Trance again? I didn't know Sensei Vericka had that ability."
"Me either," I admitted. "But after I save her, I'ma thank her for solving a problem I couldn't."
Omnia tilted her head. "So… you figured something out?"
I nodded, a thin smirk cracking the corner of my mouth. "Yep. Time to give another life to the woman who gave birth to mine."
My plan? Craft a new body. Separate her spirit from the Guardian Armament. Rehome it. Now, it sounded simple, like snapping Legos together, but the execution? Not for the faint of heart. Luckily, I'd been through hell and back in the labyrinth. During the Trial of the Thriller, I'd played with paraparticles—massless little freaks that stored absurd amounts of energy. It was like trapping a solar flare inside a matchstick.
When I fought Draco Calyrex, his Echo Phantoms used a mana-construct method that maintained form regardless of energy fluctuations. That sparked the core concept in my head: balance. Stability. Hold the form no matter what the energy inside wanted to do.
But it was Karma Nova who flipped the light switch for real. Her existence gave me the final equation. That's when I decided I'd make a biodoll. One that could contain an Inner God's power without breaking.
I rose to my feet, rolling my shoulders as I conjured an orb of Omnis Mana in my right palm. The energy hummed, black and silver spiraling together like yin and yang in open war. The orb pulsed and growled, resonating deep enough to shake the bones in my arm. My [Kaleidoscope Eyes] zoomed in on every particle, decoding the dance of volatile potential.
"To build a stable form from this? I'd need to alter the quarks directly—bend ethereal chaos into structured carbon flesh."
"Master," [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] warned. "The outcome you seek is calculated to have a 0.0000013% success rate."
"So you're telling me there's a chance?" I grinned. "That's all I need."
I flicked [Love/Hate] on, the [Probability Manipulation] node humming to life. Reality bent at the knees, odds crumbling like brittle clay. That 0.0000013%? I jacked that all the way to 100.
The Omnis Mana unraveled in my palm, spreading tendrils of black-silver light across the ground. It began to shape itself—ribbons of energy twisting, collapsing, expanding. It grew into the form of a woman, tan and smooth like fresh clay from the earth. There was no face or features yet. Just a silhouette—a shell—still and silent.
I stepped forward, inspecting it with the cold intensity of my eyes. She stood about Mom's height. The biodoll's internal structure was exactly as I intended: no conflicting mana streams, no gaps in the lattice of matter. The skin was like armor laced with silk. She could hold it. She would hold it.
I had just built the body that could save her. I was about to return the favor in the same way she gave me life.
The birth of the biodoll had the whole Wolfpak shaken to their core. Silence spread like spilled ink from the aftershock of what they had just witnessed. Life, in some form, had just been created—no womb, no ritual, no lab. Just pure willpower, divine precision, and mana of a grade so high it tasted like stardust and ozone. Luda, Kimmi, and Steez all looked at me like I had just pulled a planet out of my pocket. And honestly? I might as well have.
There weren't many legends about people crafting new vessels for souls outside of sex or sorcery on some forbidden level. But I didn't have time to marvel at my own handiwork, not when Mom's spirit was unraveling like frayed silk and her Soul Core was hemorrhaging spiritons and psions. The glowing threads of her soul were dimming with each passing second, little wisps of white and blue peeling away from her body like drifting smoke.
I turned back to her and immediately activated [Absolute Domination]. The moment it took effect, I could feel the weight of her soul like a tide trying to escape the shore. Her essence pulsed in uneven bursts, flickering with instability. My hands hovered just above her chest, and I visualized the invisible systems that made her who she was—fractured code, chaotic pulses, leaking life energy. It was like watching a precious heirloom shatter in slow motion. If I didn't do something fast, she wouldn't be here long enough for a miracle.
The V-Skill embedded in her—[Creation Sage: Izanagi]—was still pushing out too much divine pressure for her Soul Core to handle. My fix? Move the core. Transfer her soul to the biodoll I'd just created, then establish a spiritual corridor between the two so that her old vessel could still "speak" to her new one.
Easier said than done.
The initial attempt almost fried my hand clean off. Divinity Mana has an annoying sting, but I had to use it to anchor her soul so it wouldn't shatter during the transition. The sensation was like gripping lightning with wet hands. I gritted my teeth, my [Kaleidoscope Eyes] scanning every movement of every particle, catching the micro-cracks, steadying the transfer. With my left hand held steady over the glowing chest of the biodoll, I began channeling the soul thread by thread.
When the last part of her spirit left her Guardian Armament, her old body exhaled one final breath—and then stilled. The moment the soul fragment touched the biodoll's core, a rush of light ignited from within. A soft white cocoon enveloped both the biodoll and Billie Holiday—Mom's Guardian Armament—as if the universe itself wrapped them up for safekeeping.
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] spoke within me, his voice cool and composed.
"Master, due to the damage to her Soul Core, it will need some time to repair itself. I suggest removing both of them from the battlefield for a more efficient recovery."
I nodded to myself. "Roger that, Tsuki."
With a simple flick of my finger, I conjured a swirling indigo portal beneath them. The portal rippled like water disturbed by wind, then drank them both into the depths of my [Midnight World]. The dimension inside was stitched together with my mana and Sonata Core, completely sealed off from danger—essentially the safest place in existence.
I turned, my [Kaleidoscope Eyes] catching the last faint traces of my aunt Glynis's mana signature. Her and Shukaku's bodies lay half-buried in crumbled debris, like the remnants of a forgotten fight. Two more portals opened beneath them, sliding their bodies into storage with a quiet hum.
Steez blinked at the soft lights fading from the air. "You healed her?"
I nodded. "Yeah. She needs to rest for her soul to settle, but she should be out of critical danger now."
Kimmi exhaled a shaky breath and gave me a soft, tear-glass smile. "Thank you, Xi. I just knew y'all would come back in time."
Embracing me with a tight squeeze, I could feel my sister's relief and worry melt away.
Luda crossed his arms, finally snapping back into military mode. "If Sensei is no longer in trouble, we can turn our focus to the human invaders."
I gave a nod, my attention already shifting to the larger conflict waiting on the horizon. "Yeah, I'm about to. First…"
I turned to Omnia, who stood calm and flawless beside me, eyes glinting like heart-shaped galaxies. "Omnia, enter my Midnight World and watch over everyone in there."
She bowed slightly, eyes soft with loyalty. "Yes, master. If you need my further assistance, don't hesitate to call me."
As her name left my lips, I felt the air on the battlefield shift. Across the smoking craters, past broken ground and scorched stone, Januelle's head turned sharply toward us. Her eyes locked on Omnia with a mix of confusion and dawning horror. She didn't say a word, but I could feel the question on her lips:
"Why does that name sound familiar?"
She wouldn't have long to ponder it.
With a silent snap of silver and black energy, Omnia vanished into a spiral of spatial dust, slipping into my [Midnight World] without a sound. But that moment stuck with Januelle. I knew it. The glint in her eye said she'd be carrying that name back to her higher-ups like it was a bomb waiting to go off.
She had to inform Sister Mary and the Pope.
Yoona Haru had been silent for most of the chaos, her presence a pale whisper against the noise of battle and heartbreak. But now, as the dust began to settle and the sky dulled into a bruised purple overhead, she moved cautiously, but with desperation in her step. She tiptoed toward Abdul's bloated frame, his body sprawled out face-first in a mixture of dirt and his own blood. The holes Marzia left in his back were still smoking. The jagged puncture wounds had crusted with blackened blood, and the fading scent of scorched flesh clung to the wind like a curse. Whatever strength Yoona had gained from the Cultivation Pills had long burned off, leaving her weak and shaken, but not broken enough to leave the battlefield.
She got on her knees beside him, gritting her teeth as she tried to roll his big ass over with a grunt. The Celestial woman looked ragged now. Her once-sexy assassin armor was stained, her skin bruised with patches of blood dried in lines along her collarbone and thighs. She slapped Abdul's cheek lightly, panic making her breath come fast and shallow.
"Abdul. Hey. Wake up—c'mon now. You said we'd leave together. Damn it, Abdul..."
But he didn't move. And then, slowly—like a whisper brushing her nape—she felt it.
The mana in the air had changed. Turned colder. Thicker. Charged.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Every tiny hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up in unison like soldiers saluting death itself. Something primal and terrible gripped her. She turned. Her movements were painfully slow, like her body knew better than her brain did what was standing behind her. My shadow was long across the battlefield, stretching up her back like a noose of black flame. My face was mostly hidden in shadow, but not my eyes—those damn [Kaleidoscope Eyes] of mine burned through the veil like twin star systems boiling with rage.
I said nothing at first. I just stood there... watching.
Then came my voice, low and calm, yet heavy enough to crush bone.
"What's the hurry? Don't you want to stay and tell me how you stabbed my mother and pushed her into that state?"
Yoona froze like a deer in the jaws of a lion. Her lips trembled before her voice even formed words. She turned her neck toward me, visibly shaking as if her soul was trying to evacuate her body.
"L-Lord Xi-Xi-Xiro M-Mi-Mikazuki! F-Forgive m-me, as I-I didn't th-think—"
"Shhhhhh. Shhhh."
I stepped forward and squatted in front of her, bringing us face to face. Her golden eyes, once arrogant and cold, were now wide with the helpless terror of a cornered animal. She leaned back on her butt as if the small distance would save her. It wouldn't. The mana around me was swelling—Astral and absolute, rotating like a collapsing star. I raised a single finger, slow and deliberate, until my long black nail rested on the center of her nipple, right against her breast.
Her breath caught.
The moment I applied pressure, her clothing began to split—not like it was cut, but like it was rejecting the growing force. Threads pulled apart. Mana surged in bright concentric ripples around my finger, each wave hotter than the last, the color of burning sapphire. Her body trembled under it.
"You think I'll just let you attack my mother and get away with it?"
"Lo-Lord Xiro, let me—"
I didn't hear the rest.
I didn't want to.
The memories I'd pulled from Vericka, the pain she endured at their hands… the betrayal, the torment—it had ignited something inside me that felt too ancient to belong to just me. A wrath older than logic.
I pressed my finger forward, and the gathered Astral Mana exploded into a beam of pure, condensed spiritual fury. It tore through her chest, piercing straight into her Soul Core. The energy was refined, silent, merciless. On exit, it shredded her back open with surgical precision. No scream. Just a breathless gasp as her body seized, then collapsed.
Her Core cracked. Shattered. And as her soul tried to flee, I locked it in place—binding the fragments of her spiritons to her corpse like nails pinning a butterfly to glass. She wouldn't reincarnate. Wouldn't ascend. Wouldn't pass through the Well of Life.
She was stuck.
A Soul Echo, sentenced to drift inside a dead body. Forever aware. Never free, until I released her.
Every breath of wind against her skin would feel like drowning without lungs.
I should've been horrified by what I'd done.
But instead… it felt good.
That should've scared me more than it did.
Synga warned me of this path. Of the way vengeance could consume even a righteous man until all that remained was the hunger to punish. But his voice, his concern, felt distant in that moment. Too far to reach me now.
I turned my hand toward Abdul's skull, still untouched in the dirt.
"Rot in the hells, fat boy."
A second beam ripped through the back of his head, clean and quiet. His body slumped one final inch as his life was completely extinguished. No resistance. No fight. Just the end.
Neither of them had a tear shed in their memory. They didn't deserve one.
The bodies still radiated with residual mana, like fading coals after a wildfire. Their deaths were clean, almost artistic in a way that disturbed me more than I'd admit to my clan. But there wasn't time to contemplate the morality of what I had just done—only to collect the bodies for experiments later. With a simple flick of my wrist, I summoned the dimensional interface of my [Midnight World]. Two ghostly sigils lit up beneath the corpses of Yoona and Abdul, their broken, lifeless forms vanishing into an ethereal stasis. A shimmer of mana crackled in the air as they phased out, leaving only blood-soaked dirt behind.
In less than a heartbeat, I flickered back to my previous position beside my people. They barely flinched at my reappearance, but the same couldn't be said for the crowd of human soldiers standing across from us. Their eyes widened. Some involuntarily stepped back. The stench of fear drifted off them—metallic, bitter, mixed with the sharp sweat of panic. I could smell it… like rust and wet leather.
They stared, not just with caution but with loathing. They were trying hard to analyze me—dissect me with their little minds and magic-enhanced senses. But [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] batted away every skill scan like gnats. Any strategy they'd tried to plan? Pointless. Tsukuyomi's defenses were airtight. The expressions on their Novara's faces tightened with frustration. I know it was pissing her off. That gave me just enough petty satisfaction to grin.
Kimmi was the first to speak. Her ponytail was slightly messy from the earlier fight. "I'm glad them fuck-ass losers got what they deserved."
Steez chimed in, dusting some dirt off his shades. "Not all of them. Beau and some Majin woman got away. I took something of hers that should have enough of a manaprint for us to track."
I gave him a nod and smirked. "That's why you're the GOAT, Steez."
Luda stepped forward, a hand resting in his pocket as he bit into another Arcanum Delight. Juice dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were locked on the humans. "What about this friendly group of people who've come to welcome you home?"
"Well, Mom always taught us to be hospitable hosts," I said, flexing my shoulders as mana rippled up my spine like a serpent waking up from slumber. "I appreciate y'all holding it down for me, but I'll take care of the rest."
Steez threw his arms up in mock surrender. "Since Mom is safe, I'm cool with watching and relaxing."
Luda nodded, though he didn't hide the glint of anticipation in his gaze. "I did want to finish my scuffle, but I am curious to see what all you can do now. So I'll stand aside," he said, taking another bite of the fruit with a juicy crunch.
Kimmi smacked her fist into her open palm. "Kick their ass, bro."
I cracked my neck, walking toward the encroaching humans like I was about to bless the choir with violence. "Leave these niggas to me."
[Midnight Star: Belial] growled in my head, his voice like fire behind a steel mask. "Let's make these poor humans piss on themselves."
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s cool, analytical tone chimed in right after. "Analyzing each human's mana signature. Preparing battle strategies."
Despite the overwhelming dislike for me and my crew, the warriors from the Church of Holy Madness didn't go for another sneak attack. Their formation tightened, but they hesitated. With my [Super Hearing], I caught snippets of their whispers. They were arguing—debating if this was really the path they wanted to take. One of them, the one they called Jojo, pleaded with the others to retreat. He sounded like he had common sense, but sadly for him, he was outvoted.
The leader, Januelle, was relentless. She practically spat when she said she couldn't return without the death of one of the "targets." The mint-green-haired archer, Krystal, sided with Jojo, her voice quiet but firm, trembling with restrained reason. But Januelle didn't give a damn. She was too deep in. Her pride wrapped her like glass chains—beautiful, delicate, and doomed to shatter the moment pressure touched her.
She gave a final, sharp command. "Decima, Novara—prepare the emergency battle plan."
Then she turned her attention to me. Her blue eyes locked onto mine as I casually walked forward, hands still in my pockets. Her grip on her longsword tightened, the blade humming with restrained Ice Mana.
"Devil of Velonica," she said, trying to inject authority into her tone. "I see your power lives up to the stories. To think another Demon Lord would be born so soon."
I tilted my head. "If you're trying to suck my dick, you're going to need to praise me a little harder."
Her mouth twisted. "Such a filthy mouth. While I was prepared to battle your parent, I will use that same preparation to bring forth your end. The Church of Holy Madness has called for your death. Your existence is a threat to humanity… and womankind."
I chuckled, shaking my head slowly. "The Church of Holy Madness is still beefing with my family, generations later? Do they even understand what they're doing by sending y'all here? This won't end well for you."
Her face contorted in righteous fury. "Are you questioning the decision of the Pope and Sister Mary? Watch your tongue, you filthy demon, for I will not allow blasphemy in my presence."
I raised a brow, unimpressed. "You're not a very smart bitch, are you?"
That's when Jojo stepped forward, separating himself from the others. His face was weathered but proud, a veteran spirit behind his amber eyes.
"Mr. Devil," he said respectfully, "As a warrior of the old guard… I would like to face you first in an old-fashioned one-versus-one duel."
I narrowed my eyes. "I would suggest y'all attack at the same time to at least appear as if you had a chance. But I was never one to deny a man a fade."
Jojo bowed slightly. "Quite cocky, aren't you? You know it's not wise to assume victory before the battle."
I grinned, my [Kaleidoscope Eyes] flaring with cold amusement. "That's where you're wrong, my nigga. With these eyes, I only see victory."
He walked to the center of the field, about ten yards across from me, and stood tall with his Spirit Weapon drawn—a massive scythe with runes that glowed a faint sapphire. His long, bushy beard swayed in the breeze that passed between us. The air was thick with tension, like lightning before a thunderstorm.
In the distance, more explosions boomed from Talasi's marketplace. I could sense Alex was busy in a fight with someone—I could only hope he wasn't burning the whole damn town down. He always had a problem with control.
I ran my hand through my dreadlocks, brushing them out of my face. A slow smile crept across my lips as I soaked in Jojo's intent. His mana burned with courage and desperation. He was powerful. Maybe even a challenge to some.
But not to me.
The final hour of twilight painted the world in purple and dark blues, casting long shadows across the battlefield. The wind died. Time paused. And the boss battle against me—the true Demon Lord of Velonica—had finally begun.
[End of Chapter]
[1] April on Earth.