4th Day of the 1st Fire Cycle[1], 2000 g.c.
The night was slowly pivoting into place, like some ancient theater stage rotating to reveal its final act. Twilight clung to the sky's edges, fighting off full darkness for just a little longer. Above us, the three moons of Gaia had begun their ascent, casting a supernatural glow across the battered streets of Talasi. Beyond them all loomed Trappist, our cosmic neighbor, caught in a sleepy crescent, part of its planetary body hidden in shadow like it was purposely looking away from the mess we'd made here.
The stars came out slowly at first, then all at once. Little pinpricks of light blinked to life, spreading across the canvas of night like teenage acne before a school dance. They'd rule the sky for the next thirty hours, longer than a full day back on Earth. Even with all that cosmic beauty overhead, the air below was drenched in blood and silence. The reality was far quieter. Still.
Like, even the world didn't want to breathe too loudly.
The only sound was soft and terrible: the steady patter of Decima's tears hitting the cracked earth. The rhythm wasn't clean or pretty—just grief, pure and jagged. Tap. Tap. Tap. She was kneeling, one hand clutched over her mouth, the other digging into the dirt like she was trying to hold the world in place. Her eyes were locked on Marzia's head, unmoving. She once braided Decima's hair before a mission, saying it was 'luck for first kills'. The way Decima's shoulders shook, I could tell this was more than mourning. This was a kid seeing hell for the first time.
She was the youngest of the Saint Disciples. The only one who still had dreams that didn't end in corpses. Wide-eyed. Green behind the ears. Still holding onto faith like it could shield her from the truth of battle. But now? Now she understood. The road of an M-Cee and Sword Singer wasn't paved in miracles. It was blood and fire, and it didn't care how old you were or what you believed. This was her crash course in what it meant to face loss when it's standing three feet away and still warm.
Marzia Judas's death had cracked open the fragile bravado the Church of Holy Madness carried into Velonica. The plan was simple enough: assassinate the "Legendary Monsters," wipe the board clean, and bring the hammer of divine justice down on what they thought were demonic warlords. But their narrative fell apart fast. One Godwalker? Sure. Maybe even two. But five above S-Class demihumans with unknown skills and capabilities? That wasn't a holy mission anymore—that was a death march. Their confidence had collapsed into something quieter now. Quivering. Unsure.
And yet, despite the silence among the disciples, Januelle Peter stood tall. Regal. Cold. A woman bred from war and strategy. On the outside, her ivory skin and platinum-blonde hair were pristine, like a porcelain doll posing for a sculpture class. But on the inside? She was spiraling. Calculating. Grinding through every possible outcome at lightspeed.
Januelle's thoughts churned.
"Quickly, Jan, think. With Lord Jojo looking outmatched, and the loss of Marzia costing us a major portion of our offensive capacity, retreat is the only option that doesn't end with all of us dying here. But will that Devil even let us escape? Or will turning our backs be the signal to strike?"
Her eyes shifted subtly—first to Krystal, then Jojo, the only two who hadn't fallen apart at the seams yet. Then downward. Novara looked pale, fists clenched. Decima… well, she was still on her knees, hands trembling beside Marzia's ruined body.
"Marzia may have been right. The Cultivation Pills… the ones reserved for crisis protocol only. That might be the only way to take this country. With enough power... maybe... maybe we could return."
With [Lucifer's Wrath] still activated, Alex looked like a damn nightmare. A walking hellstorm of blackened mana, boiling white veins pulsing under cracked skin like lava trapped in a too-thin crust. The wind around him didn't just sway—it bent, as if reality itself was trying to tiptoe out of his way. His breathing sounded like the rumble of a beast trying to speak through a human throat, and his eyes... yeah, those damn eyes weren't right.
They were lit up with that unstable neon blue glow—those azure orbs sparking with raw hatred and confusion. You could see the war happening behind them. And the boy was itching to let loose again.
But he'd done enough damage for now.
I didn't need him skipping the cutscenes—I still had humans to psychologically dismantle.
I lifted my eyes to meet his, showcasing my [Heaven's Kaleidoscope] in a slow blink. The world around me fractured into layered insight—colors that didn't belong in this reality bled into the scene. With [Kaleidoscope Eyes], I could see deeper into Alex than anyone should ever be allowed to.
That's when I saw it.
Threads of Nihility—that sickening anti-force, the very absence of life, curling through his soul like smoke from an extinguished flame. It wasn't just attached to his body—it was in him. That subskill called [Lucifer's Wrath] didn't just empower him; it hollowed him. Like each second he spent in it, a little more of Alex got replaced by... nothing.
And the scariest part?
There was no protective layer. No buffer. The boy had no safeguard from the creeping chaos that came with it. The more he used it, the more the lines blurred between him and the abyss, between friend and foe.
That's when [Moon Sage:Tsukuyomi] slid into my thoughts like a whisper through the wind, but I felt the pulse of [Future Sense] spark in the back of my skull first, like a flicked nerve.
"Warning, Master. The result of Alex's analysis states that he may not be able to tell friend from foe in his current state. I suggest containing him before he gets out of hand."
A half-second later, [Midnight Star: Belial] followed, smug as ever, like a devil lounging on a throne of chaos.
"The pup finally snapped to his own power? Why am I not surprised?"
Almost like he'd been waiting on that exact commentary to drop, Alex snapped his head toward Jojo.
That look?
Hunger.
No hesitation. No hesitation at all.
He blurred—gone—and before the others could blink, he was already airborne, spiraling through the sky in a wild, chaotic series of flips. His heel ignited mid-motion, draped in hellfire that swirled with the screaming essence of his unfiltered rage.
He came down with a Hellfire axe kick, glowing bright enough to cast shadows like it was high noon. That attack would've shattered an island and snapped a few of Jojo's bones in the process.
Jojo barely had time to register what was about to happen.
But I was already there.
I caught Alex's foot in mid-air with my right hand. One-handed. No sweat.
The impact of stopping his momentum blasted a shockwave outward, a burst of wind so violent it ripped through the grass, yanked bushes out of the dirt, and even knocked over a few trees sitting at the edge of the nearby forest. Leaves scattered in every direction, spinning like shurikens through the sky.
Jojo stumbled back a few feet, hand on his Spirit Weapon, confusion all over his face.
"What the..."
I didn't let go of Alex's leg just yet. I met his eyes again, steady.
"You're movin' too fast, lil' bro," I said, my tone casual but commanding. "These fine people came to see me this evening... so I'll be the one entertainin' them."
He flipped backward out of my hand, landing a few yards away as he glared at me.
"You can rest up now."
He blinked, like he was waking up from a nightmare.
"Xi...ro?"
His voice cracked like a frozen river under pressure. That one word was full of panic, confusion, and fear... but not of me—of himself.
I nodded.
"Yes, fool. And unless you want to fight me for the right to fight them, then respect my iso-call."
Alex's [Lucifer's Wrath] wasn't something he had mastered, so he often struggled turning it off on command. The skill often left him vulnerable to his V-Skill taking over his body.
The black and white flames continued to lick toward the night sky as Alex mentally combated the effects of the Nihility bubbling in his Soul Core. Each second fatigued his willpower more and more as he held on to consciousness.
Then it happened—something strange, something I didn't expect even with all my damn foresight tools active. One second, Alex was snarling through his half-lucid berserk state, and the next... he froze. Not like hesitation. I mean froze—like a system overclocked to the point of meltdown. An invisible dam cracked inside him and then shattered.
BOOM.
A tide of Bio Mana surged outta nowhere—so fast and raw that it rattled the ground beneath us with a deep, bone-humming pressure. It was the kinda pressure that made birds fly the opposite direction, made plants wilt, made your soul flinch.
It hit him like a tidal wave from inside his own bloodstream. His body arched backward—arms wide, head snapping to the sky like he was trying to scream, but the power inside him cut the breath from his lungs. That was when control officially clocked out. Alex's consciousness dimmed, and what was left in his skin... wasn't Alex anymore.
Hellfire Mana—that chilly, black spiritual flame of his—poured out of every inch of him like a volcano that'd been waiting since the last epoch. It didn't light up the ground; it devoured it. Trees within a five-meter radius began turning to ash. The air warped. Reality thinned. The mana wasn't warm. It was cold. So cold it burned—like getting kissed by liquid nitrogen while someone whispers ancient curses in your ear.
"Oh no, Alex," Kimmi said, voice tight with panic. "Fight it!"
Steez crossed his arms, watching the infernal spectacle with a grimace. "He really need to get that shit mastered."
Luda's voice cracked with worry. "What the hell happened? Xi, what's going on with Alex?"
I stepped forward a bit, narrowing my eyes as my [Appraisal] scanned the overwhelming distortion around Alex. "I think he lost the mental fight. This sudden surge of power doesn't look controlled."
Jojo, still recovering from his near-decapitation earlier, whistled low. "Your friend is not looking too hot, Devil."
I didn't even turn to look at him. "He's family. And with them flames, I'd say the opposite."
Meanwhile, in the treeline, I spotted Januelle. Her body was still, but her mana signature was active. Focused. She was watching—not out of fear, but calculation. She turned slightly toward Novara, whispering a command to record as much information as she could.
She was plotting.
"The goddess has blessed me with a way out of this mess. As the monsters are still fighting each other, it seems. If I use my [Retreat] skill and take Decima and Novara with me, I'm sure the Devil will be too busy killing Sento and Lord Jojo to pursue. I just need to grab them at the right moment."
Back at the epicenter of the chaos, things were getting worse. The ground around Alex cracked, like Gaia herself was flinching from his energy. The converted magitons in the air were so thick that it was like trying to breathe through steam. I swear I could see the mana fog—hazy tendrils of purple and gold crawling through the air like lazy lightning.
Then his eyes opened.
No longer azure.
They were glowing red, deep, furious, and full of something worse than hatred: intent. A cold, precise bloodlust. Murder, without hesitation. The kind of look that told me nobody was safe. Not even me.
I swallowed down the unease tightening in my chest. I didn't show it, but I felt it.
This was no longer a tantrum.
It was a storm.
I took a slow step forward, leaving Jojo behind me in the background. As much as I wanted to interrogate the rest of these Saint Disciples or get more data on Jojo's Ascended Human bullshit, this was priority one. Alex was family. A walking tactical nuke of a little brother, and right now, he was ticking.
A thought poked at the edge of my focus—one of those "what if"s that come with being a planner even when shit hits the fan. I could have made a clone. Sent it to deal with the humans while I handled Alex. Hell, I'd done harder multitasks during bath time. But deep down, I was curious. Curious enough to test them. I'd already scared the collective hell outta them with that little power demonstration. If they had half a brain, they'd take the hint and run. Try to disappear into the rubble. That'd make 'em easy to pick off and interrogate later.
But if they were stupid? If they mistook my turn away from them as a tactical opening?
Then I'd be collecting teeth for fun.
As I moved closer to Alex, I tapped into [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] and [Midnight Star: Belial], both of them sparking to life in the back of my mind like two ancient divas ready for a game show.
"Master, do you think they'll run?" Tsukuyomi's voice had that cool, detached elegance, like silk dipped in liquid moonlight.
"Nah," Belial cackled. "Humans are greedy little meat puzzles. One of 'em's gonna swing. Dumbasses always swing."
"Wanna bet?" I thought.
That got them. Belial went quiet for a beat. Then:
"Winner gets full control for a day. No interruptions. No backseat complaining."
I let out a graceful hum. "Agreed."
I wasn't even surprised by how fast I accepted. Most times, they were at odds over how I was to act. But now? Now they were eager. Eager to play in this mess. Eager to see me navigate a minefield made of emotion, rage, and ruined trust. It was damn near poetic.
I cracked my neck and let out a long breath as Hellfire licked toward my boots like a warning.
"Alright, Alex," I muttered, stretching one hand forward as mana began curling into my palm. "Let's bring you back home, the hard way."
I stood just a few meters away from him, my clan brother, my blood—and watched as Hellfire rippled across his form like living armor. It clung to him in waves of black flame, pulsing with the rhythm of his breath, flaring hotter with each twitch of his fingers. The intensity of it was mesmerizing, a terrifying beauty that only a trained eye could truly appreciate.
And yet, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride.
He'd come far. Since Aunt Glynis returned to Talasi and refocused the clan's inner structure, Alex had gone from a confused, overlooked kid to one of the most capable and admired M-Cees in our lineage. He became someone worth looking up to. Not just because of his talent, but because of his heart. People loved him. Respected him.
But that pride came with its own shadows.
I couldn't tell if being around me was helping him rise or slowly killing him. I saw the pressure building in him over the years. The way he'd compare himself to me, even when I told him not to. The unspoken weight of his late father's legacy now hung on his shoulders like a yoke made of sorrow and fire. A weight he didn't even fully understand, because he still didn't know what really happened to his parents.
And this wasn't the time to drop that truth bomb.
Not now. Not while his rage was already halfway to setting the sky on fire.
His voice cut through the vibrating air like a jagged blade.
"FADE... FADE..."
That single word repeated in a guttural, broken tone. Not a threat. A craving. A fixation. The need to fight, to hurt, to purge whatever storm was eating him from the inside. That wasn't the Alex I knew. That was the Alex who had finally snapped.
I sighed and took one slow step forward. "So, we've devolved to one word now? I didn't want to fight in front of our company, but fine..."
My jaw tightened.
"Let's remind you why I'm still the BIG brother."
He didn't move. Just breathed—and the air trembled like it feared what came next.
Then came the roar.
Not an echo—but a ripple. The pressure wave from his scream flattened the already damaged trees behind him, and the fog of magitons whipped outward like curtains caught in a sudden gale. Above his head, he summoned it—a monstrous sphere of Fire and Hellfire, blacker than shadow, thicker than smoke. It bled mana so dense, it warped the air around it into a trembling shimmer.
The orb grew wider than a house. Then a building. Then a damn block.
The heat coming off of it felt like I was standing inside a kiln built for gods. It was raw, pulsing power. The kind of mana density that could easily wipe out a continent back on Earth. Here on Gaia? Arcadia might survive it. Talasi wouldn't. Half of Velonica, either.
"Yo, Alex!" Steez called out, his voice cracking. "Chill out, fam! You're gonna destroy the town with that!"
Luda's voice chimed in, low and tense. "Xiro, that's a lot of mana in his hand."
"I know, nigga," I said, eyes still locked on the blazing mass. "I got this handled."
He didn't wait.
With a single push off the cracked earth, Alex launched into the air, body streaked with black fire, eyes burning red like twin infernos of hatred. He hurled the massive sphere with no hesitation, no fear, no care.
No concern for anything or anyone that wasn't getting faded.
The bomb rocketed toward me faster than sound, ripping a black arc through the sky like a meteor dipped in demon blood. He wasn't holding back. He wasn't testing me. He wanted obliteration.
Far behind him, I caught a flicker of movement. Januelle. I could feel her intent even without looking at her.
"This is my chance to escape."
Her aura echoed faintly as if it rode on the mana currents.
I didn't have time for her.
I raised my left hand and opened my palm slowly, like I was inviting the attack. A small portal—a shimmering, swirling distortion in space—blossomed open just above it. The second that monstrous Hellfire orb touched the edge of the portal, it disappeared. Silently. Effortlessly.
"[Absolute Absorption]."
The energy vanished into the void like it was never there. No explosion. No smoke. Just the eerie sound of silence returning too quickly.
I didn't even lower my hand. Just looked up.
Alex was already moving, trying to pivot behind me, aiming for a blindside assault. Fast. Trained. Controlled rage, but still rage.
Unfortunately for him, I had [Heaven's Kaleidoscope] activated.
Those eyes didn't just see movement—they dissected it. Anticipated it. Predicted the intent behind it. I caught the flare in his heel before he even pivoted. I saw the angle of his knee and knew where his fist would follow. And with [Future Sense] layered over it, the moment unfolded before me like a diagram. I was already reacting before he even committed to the strike.
Synergy.
The data from both skills created a mental map I could surf like a wave. My body moved before I thought, and with it came the unlock—a whisper through the mana.
«New personal skill acquired, [Future Sight] installed. [Heaven's Kaleidoscope] must be active to use this skill.»
It was time to remind Alex that while he'd grown into a powerful warrior...
I was still the damn measuring stick.
The moment slowed—not because time had stopped, but because my perception had split reality in two. Through [Future Sight], my vision layered Alex's future movements over his present ones like two films running in perfect, terrifying sync. It was more than just foresight. It was cinematic inevitability. One screen showed him leaping forward, leg cocked mid-spin for a devastating kick. The other screen? What came after—the torque of his foot, the shift of his weight, the micro-twitch in his wrist as he adjusted for my possible counter.
It was like watching the fight before it even happened, while still being inside it.
What shook me wasn't just the clarity, but the accuracy. I've seen how chaotic possibility threads can get. One tiny change, one errant breath, and a future path could collapse or fork into a dozen new ones. But not here. Not now. The path ahead was locked, and every movement Alex made only cemented it further.
So I moved.
Right as his foot reached the apex of its arc, I shifted into the blind pocket just outside his range and stepped into him. His eyes widened—split-second shock—but it was too late. My fist shot out in a clean, piston-like jab, slamming across his cheekbone with a satisfying snap. The hit stopped his motion cold, a stuttering pause in the ballet of chaos.
Then came the left.
The haymaker I'd been waiting to let fly since I saw him building up all that wild energy. I dipped my shoulder and drove it through his jaw like I was trying to erase his name from the family tree. The impact cracked out like thunder, sending him spiraling through the air like a comet wrapped in black fire. He hit the ground so hard that the terrain buckled. Hellfire scattered in all directions like oil under pressure, and a shockwave of dirt and shattered stone roared outward, blinding the onlookers in a spray of chaos.
Alex didn't move.
His body lay at the center of the crater, arms sprawled, chest rising in slow, unsteady pulses. The intense, chaotic aura of [Lucifer Wrath] had faded to a low simmer—no longer a threat, but a memory of how close he'd come to losing himself. Beneath the waning black flame, I could finally see him again. The teenager. The boy. Not the berserker wrapped in myth-tier power.
That was when she moved.
Januelle.
The moment the crater rocked the battlefield, she surged forward. She shoved past Krystal with more force than finesse, nearly knocking the girl off her feet. Krystal's confused gasp went ignored as Januelle slipped through the crowd, cutting across to where Decima cradled the severed head like a holy relic. Januelle reached for her ring in one fluid motion, grabbing the Magic Gem while whispering under her breath.
"Return me to my safe location—[Retreat] activate!"
Her middle finger lit up, releasing a flicker of Gem Mana that sparked and shimmered like a star caught in glass. In that same heartbeat, she gripped both Novara and Decima by the folds of their cloaks, anchoring them to the spell.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Krystal's voice cracked. "Lady Peter!"
But the flash had already begun.
The air around Januelle distorted, flickering like a mirage under intense heat. The teleportation shimmered—like an old photograph tearing apart from the edges inward. She turned, catching Krystal's eyes just as she vanished. Her expression wasn't rushed or frantic. It was cold. Detached. A face sculpted with silent judgment and apathy.
And that's when Krystal knew—Januelle had made her decision.
She was abandoning her. Abandoning Jojo. Writing them off as sacrifices to the mission.
And I saw it. Every part of it.
I could've stopped her. Hell, I could've blinked across the field and slapped that ring off her finger before she finished the chant. But... that would've ruined my win. Because of that little betrayal? That selfish, snake-ass play she just made?
That made me the winner of my bet.
Belial was gonna be real mad about that.
So I turned my attention back to Alex, kneeling down beside his unconscious form. The heat still clung to his skin, a dark simmer that wrapped around him like a second flesh. I hovered my hand above his chest and focused my mana, invoking the cleansing sequence of [Absolute Spell Removal].
A ripple of pure iridescent light—like liquid glass tinted in moonstone hues—moved down my arm and into his body. It didn't fight his power; it unwound it. Like a code unraveling from the inside out. The hellfire hissed and retreated, smothered beneath the flood of cleansing energy that stripped his form of wrathful mana and dangerous instability. The dark aura faded. His body relaxed.
And for the first time since the assaults began, there was silence.
The space around us twisted—not visually, not even audibly—but with a sensation that crawled down my spine like cold fingers tapping through my soul. Januelle's skill had finished triggering. I didn't need the flash or fanfare to know it was happening. But [Heaven's Kaleidoscope] caught it all.
Time hiccupped.
No, this was more like reality stuttered. Like it skipped a beat in its song, only to catch up a breath later. Had I not been watching through divine lenses that layered time itself, I would've missed the microsecond it happened before Januelle and the Saint Disciples disappeared. They blinked out in a pulse of raw Spatial Mana, leaving only disturbed earth and a hollow ring in the air where their presence used to stand.
Grass scorched. Dirt fluttered. The remnants of their escape flared out in faint silver threads that burned and curled like burning wire or the breath of a dying spell, quickly swallowed by the ruined battlefield.
And just like that, the night finally remembered how to breathe again.
The Hero of Mankind and his green-haired archer remained behind, looking around like kids who missed the bus home. The rest of the battlefield stood half-quiet. The other half? Flames. Smoke curled in heavy plumes over Talasi's broken skyline. Over half the town had been leveled or scarred with fire and magical destruction, but we'd stopped it from being wiped clean off the damn map. A small mercy, all things considered.
I could rebuild homes. Hell, I could grow food with the right glyph networks and enough energy. But I couldn't regrow the dead.
The Prime Realm System had protections, rules, and spiritual barriers harder to crack than royal encryption. Once a soul passed into the Spirit Realm—specifically into the Well of Life—resurrection became more than just tricky. It became damn near impossible. Sure, there was a small window before the soul core's last psions dissolved—its last "breath," you could say—but once they were gone? That person was gone. Bringing them back would mean creating a whole new consciousness, and that meant it wouldn't be them. It'd be a copy. A puppet wearing their smile. The thought always left a bitter taste in my chest.
I'd have to speak with Omnia eventually. She created the Soul Core infrastructure, so if anyone had a workaround, it'd be her. But that convo would have to get in line behind about fifty-seven other things already fighting for my attention.
Alex groaned from the crater behind me, coughing up soot and pride in equal measure as he started dragging himself back to consciousness. His mana had quieted, and the storm in him had settled for now. I'd return to him soon, but my attention was already shifting.
Jojo stood nearby, mouth slightly agape, eyes darting around the space where Januelle had been. The realization hit him like a sucker punch: they'd left him. Left them. No callout. No warning. Just—poof, gone. And now it was just him, Krystal, and a pile of betrayal.
He facepalmed hard enough to echo.
"Looks like we aren't the only side dealin' with infighting," I said, strolling back toward him with the type of smirk only older brothers or petty gods could wear.
Jojo shook his head slowly. "To think I ever put my faith in her sword. Seems I've been betrayed by the very church that convinced the queen to send me."
"Well damn. That's fucked up. Sent you on a suicide mission."
"Maybe that was their plan from the beginning." His voice was dry. Flat. Like he wasn't even mad anymore—just exhausted by how easily faith became a blade.
Inside, [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s smooth voice rang like temple bells.
"That makes Master the winner of the wager."
And right on cue, [Midnight Star: Belial] snarled, petulant and unamused.
"Those cowards. Ugggh."
"Told ya, Bel." I thought, grinning as I watched Jojo stew in the betrayal stew. "She was smarter than she looked."
Jojo stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his hands held out—not in defense, not even in shame—but in resignation.
"Mr. Devil," he began, his voice low, humbled by the wreckage of pride and betrayal he stood in, "I surrender to your victory. I do this in hopes of you sparing the life of my friend… the one who was left behind with me."
His eyes flicked to Krystal beside him, still shaking off the disbelief of being abandoned by the Saint Disciples. I could see the way she clutched the edge of her scar, her breath uneven. The kind of fear you don't show until the danger's done.
"Why would they leave us…?" I heard her whisper to herself.
I tilted my head and smirked, sliding my hands into my armor pockets.
"No more fighting? I guess you are smart as well," I said, chuckling. "Good. I've got another block to spin anyway."
My mind reached backward, sweeping Vericka's fragmented memories back to the front. I closed my eyes for a heartbeat and watched Beau and the Blood Witch like I was sitting in the back row of a twisted theatre—seeing the stringwork behind the next drama. More moves were coming on this cursed chessboard, and I needed to start planning for them now.
A pained groan came from behind me.
"Uaegghh… Aouch. Why does my jaw sting? Damn…"
I turned to the familiar voice with a grin tugging at my lips. "Oh shit—welcome back, Alexander."
Alex was dragging himself up from the crater I'd planted him in. His body trembled slightly, the last embers of Hellfire fizzling off his shoulders like a dying meteor shower. His jaw looked bruised up, the skin red and already swelling a bit. Still, he managed to stand, rubbing the side of his face with a scowl.
I deactivated [Heaven's Kaleidoscope] with a soft blink, the godlike lattice of foresight fading from my pupils, returning my eyes to their natural silver hue. The soft glow dimmed as I adjusted back to baseline perception.
That's when I felt them—my fam.
Kimmi arrived first, stepping over a broken plank of a once-proud gate, flanked by Luda and Steez. Blood and soot clung to their clothes like war paint, but none of them looked defeated.
The air was thick, still humid with tension, but a soft breeze threaded through the ruins like a whisper of relief. It carried the smell of scorched metal, scorched mana, and scorched earth. Mixed with blood. Magiton charges still fizzled faintly under broken buildings, a quiet aftermath from the sheer amount of mana dumped onto Talasi's soil tonight.
The town had survived, barely. But it had survived.
And that was our win.
It was my first win since returning as the new Demon Lord.
I stood amid craters, wreckage, the headless Sword Singer, and blackened timbers with my clan at my side. The zealots from the Church of Holy Madness hadn't expected this kind of fight. We gave 'em hell. Literally.
Luda walked up beside me, hands on his hips, looking around with a whistle.
"I didn't think the raid on your home would end with you punching Alex. I'd call that a plot twist, as you say."
I snorted. "You bein' real meta right now, L."
Kimmi ran to Alex, kneeling beside him with worry painting her usually calm face. "Alex, are you okay?"
He nodded, wincing as he touched his cheek. "Yeah… I'm fine. This ain't the first time Xi's had to snap me out of that form."
I raised an eyebrow. "Looks like the stronger you get, the harder that form is to control."
Alex shrugged, wincing again. "Yeah, well... same thing happened back when I fought Whitty Huton."
"Who?" I replied, caught off guard by the name.
Steez crossed his arms and gestured toward the humans still standing. "Brodie, what are you gonna do with the humans?"
Jojo raised both his hands halfway again, his tone almost comedic now. "I would like to request not to be eaten, thank you. That would be a terrible way to die."
I narrowed my eyes, cocked my head slightly, and grinned. "Unless you're a pussy… or a sandwich… I think you're fine on that front."
Krystal shot a glance at me—half grateful, half "I-don't-know-if-you're-saving-us-or-sizing-us-up." She was learning.
Kimmi gasped. "Bro, you can't be eating house cats! That's someone's pet!"
I chuckled. "Oh, Kimmi-Wu. Never lose that innocence. Please."
Luda exhaled. "We can take them as prisoners for now. Sucks we couldn't capture them all."
"I always planned to catch at least one," I said, my voice dropping into thought. "I need more insight on what's happening with our homo-cousins."
Steez crouched near one of the charred tree stumps, twirling something thin between his fingers, grinning with that signature sly confidence that meant he'd already done something clever.
"Well," he said, casually tossing a few strands of blond hair into my hand, "before that blonde chick dipped, I snatched a few strands to track her mana signature."
I looked down at the wisps of silken gold. Still warm. Still humming. Still radiating faint remnants of Angel Gem Mana. My grin spread slowly like dawn cracking over a battlefield.
"So I saw," I replied, nodding in approval. "That's why you are the GOAT, Steez."
He flashed a proud smirk, and I turned to face the ragtag crew that had just fought tooth and nail for Talasi. We were victorious. And right now? That was enough.
"Okay, everyone," I called out, my voice cutting through the smoky hush, "let's take this to Grandma's crib. I know her personal house barrier should still be fine. I'll address the big stuff there."
Without even glancing toward them, I flicked my hands to the side, casual as stretching a muscle, and cast an electromagnetic sphere of bluish-purple energy around Krystal and Jojo. Their bodies jolted as gravity gave up on them, and they lifted off the ground like two weightless puppets.
Jojo's legs kicked a little before he realized resistance was pointless. Krystal just sighed, more embarrassed than scared.
"You two'll be coming with me," I said, the energy humming with a soft warble as I pulled them toward us. "Let me give you a tour of my wonderful home."
With that, we started our slow walk toward the town center, where Grandma Fann's house sat, a silhouette against the singed skyline. The fires still flickered in front of us in the ruins of Talasi, but now the crackling came with a promise: that next time, we'd be ready before the madness hit.
The breeze picked up again, cooler now. Cleaner. It swept past us like the town itself had let out a sigh of relief.
And like that, a peaceful night could finally begin—with Talasi resting safer than it had in years.
The new Demon Lord had taken his place.
[End of Chapter]
[1] April on Earth.