JINX'S POV:
It was 11:32 p.m., according to my busted old watch—not that I cared. The moon hung low over the city like a cracked porcelain plate, and the streets were empty except for the quiet rhythm of my boots tapping against the pavement. My Sacred Gear was active, its silver panjas resting casually on my wrists like normal jewelry. To the average passerby, I looked like just another nightcrawler with a taste for late walks.
I turned a corner when I heard it—a muffled scream. Followed by a sharp crack—the unmistakable sound of a slap. The kind that carries weight. Real panic. I froze.
My mind clicked.
"Alright… 70% chance this is a kidnapping. 30% child abuse. Either way, someone's having a bad night—and maybe, just maybe, I'll finally get some action worth my time."
With a lazy flick of my wrist, I activated the true form of my Sacred Gear. A low hiss escaped as ghostly black smoke coiled from the bracelets, winding around my fingers like curious shadows. The air temperature dropped by a few degrees—not that it mattered to me.
I scaled a dumpster with ease and leapt onto the nearest fire escape. My footsteps were whisper-quiet, trained. I found an open window, nudged it wider with two fingers, and slipped through. No squeak. No thud. Just the sound of metal beneath me as I landed on a catwalk—maybe 29 feet off the warehouse floor.
And there they were.
Three bulked-up dudes built like vending machines, circled around a girl about my age—maybe younger. Her face was bloodied, one cheek already swelling. She looked terrified. Good instincts.
"Buff 1," the one with the baseball bat grunted.
"So… what do we do with the girl, boss?"
I smirked.
"Found the 70%."
I didn't bother announcing myself. What was the point?
I unsheathed my katana in one fluid motion, its steel singing softly—like it enjoyed the attention. A dark aura erupted from the blade, smoky tendrils licking the air around it. Simultaneously, a soft glow pulsed beneath my shirt, under the collarbone—where the chain holding my relic hung. It reacted to the bloodlust. Always did. But its shape remained hidden, even as the same oppressive darkness began to radiate from it.
Then I jumped.
By the time they heard the metallic clang of my boots hitting the ground, one of them was already on his knees—throat slit clean, not a drop wasted. Another reached for a pistol—too slow. My blade carved through his hand like warm butter before spinning into his ribcage. He dropped like dead weight. No cries. No screams.
"Two."
The third tried to run. Funny. He didn't get far. A quick step, a flick of my wrist, and the katana pierced his back straight through the heart—clean exit through the chest. He dropped to the floor twitching.
"Three. All muscle, no spine."
I stood still for a moment. Listening. Feeling.
Silence.
The girl backed away, eyes wide. Shaking. I didn't speak to her. Not yet. I just looked down at the blood staining my blade and sighed.
"Tch... Lame. Thought I'd at least break a sweat."
"Guess I was just bored after all."
I sheathed the katana slowly, letting the silence return. Not even the rats dared squeak.
This wasn't justice. It wasn't even vengeance.
It was just another night…
And I was still looking for a real fight.
I approached her slowly, boots clicking against the cold warehouse floor. The silence hung thick, broken only by the faint rasp of my breath and the dying hum of my Sacred Gear fading into stillness. My eyes stayed on her, calculating. Observing.
She was younger than I expected—maybe a year or two below me. Probably still in ninth or tenth grade. But it was obvious from the moment I really looked that she wasn't just some ordinary girl caught in the wrong place.
Her dress, though torn and dirty from the struggle, was made of high-end fabric—tailored, expensive, the kind only money could buy. The perfume of luxury clung to her despite the blood and fear: a subtle mix of imported floral oils, high-end conditioner, and the kind of shampoo that screamed designer. Her blonde hair, even in this grim setting, had a salon shine that shimmered under the moonlight filtering through the window.
Rich.
Definitely.
But that's not what caught my attention.
It was her aura. The invisible pressure that clung to her like a second skin—dark, thick, and unmistakably demonic. Not the artificial kind that humans gain from pacts or cursed objects. No, this was pure. Innate.
She was a devil.
A naturally born one.
And she was terrified.
As I neared, her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto mine. She flinched when I raised my hand—but I wasn't aiming for her. A soft whisper of frost bloomed in my palm, and an ice dagger took shape, thin and curved like a crescent moon, shimmering with pale-blue light. Her breath hitched, her body trembling in place, too frozen with fear to even scream.
But I didn't hurt her.
In two clean motions—quick, precise—I slashed downward. First the ropes around her wrists, then the gag at her mouth. The bindings fell to the ground in icy shards.
She gasped, stumbling back slightly, still unsure whether to thank me or fear me.I sheathed the ice blade back into mist and simply stood there, watching her. Waiting.Because now I had questions.And she had answers.
With a lazy flick of my wrist, I conjured two chairs out of glimmering ice. They rose from the ground in smooth, graceful arcs—spindly yet elegant, almost throne-like in design. The air around them chilled instantly, mist curling at their bases like creeping fingers. I dropped into one without ceremony, letting the cold bite through the fabric of my clothes. It didn't bother me. It never did.
Then I looked at her.
Still trembling slightly, the girl clutched her arms, watching me with wide, uncertain eyes. I tilted my head and gestured casually to the other chair, a silent invitation.
It took a minute or two—her fear was still thick in the air like the scent of blood—but eventually, she stepped forward. Her movements were cautious, controlled, the kind of slow you only see in people who've been trained to never show weakness. She sat down stiffly, legs together, hands in her lap, spine straight as a rod.
Good posture. High upbringing. Definitely noble.
I leaned back, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair, fingers drumming against the frosted surface. My eyes didn't leave her.
"Now," I said, tone calm, almost conversational. "From the look of you—and that demonic aura rolling off you in waves—you're obviously a devil. A high-class one too, from the richness in your magic. Not necessarily in power," I added with a shrug, "but definitely in status."
I let my words hang in the air for a beat.
"But the question is… which one?"
I scanned her again, noting the flickers of elemental energy dancing subtly beneath the heavier demonic presence. There was something warm in it—volatile. Not hellfire, but something close. Like a phoenix caught in a storm.
"Hmm…" I murmured, a grin tugging at the edge of my mouth. "Blonde hair. Regal mannerisms. And that fiery undercurrent in your aura… I've got a guess. But I hate robbing people of the right to introduce themselves."
I watched her carefully, giving her space, but not too much. Letting the silence press down.
One minute passed.
Then another.
By the third, my patience was thinning like a blade against a whetstone.
Finally, she swallowed hard and spoke—soft, barely audible, but with a thread of pride behind the fear.
"M-My name is… Ravel Phenex. S-second daughter of House Phenex, one of the Seventy-Two Pillars of the Underworld."
Her voice trembled slightly, but not from terror—more like the aftershocks of it. Her eyes were still watching mine, measuring me now instead of just dreading me.
Phenex, huh?
Well... things just got a lot more interesting.
I leaned forward, resting my chin in my hand, eyes narrowing slightly with new curiosity.
"Ravel Phenex," I repeated, tasting the name like fire and frost on my tongue. "Now why would a noble devil like you be tied up in a warehouse in the human world?"
Ravel hesitated again, her hands tightening slightly in her lap. She looked down, as if gathering the courage to speak, then raised her gaze to meet mine. The fear was still there—but dulled now, tempered by something else. Embarrassment, maybe.
"I… came to the human world," she began slowly, "because I wanted a chocolate bar."
My brow arched. "You got kidnapped over chocolate?"
Her cheeks flushed a faint red, and she looked away for a second, clearly flustered. "Not just any chocolate," she said defensively. "It's a rare brand from Switzerland. They only sell it in certain specialty shops in the human world. I wasn't trying to do anything reckless. I used a cloaking charm, I swear—I've done it before without issue."
Her tone faltered, and I could feel the shame creeping back into her voice.
"But this time… someone was watching. A group of rogue priests. Fallen from grace. I don't know how they sensed me, but they caught me off guard when I was leaving the shop. Hit me with a holy seal—stunned me just long enough to get binding cuffs on."
She glanced down at her wrists where faint marks still lingered, the skin slightly red from the enchanted restraints.
"They dragged me here," she continued quietly. "Said they were going to 'present me to the Church.' Apparently, they think handing over a devil noble might earn them reinstatement. Idiots."
I let out a low exhale through my nose. "So… a box of overpriced human sugar almost got you crucified. Brilliant."
Her glare was faint, but real. A spark of indignation beneath the noble composure. "It's exceptional chocolate," she muttered.
I chuckled once, low and sharp. This girl—Ravel Phenex—was supposed to be one of the elite devils of the Underworld. Second daughter to a house known for immortality through flame. And here she was, nearly sold off to zealots over a sweet tooth.
Still, I couldn't help but be a little impressed. It took a special kind of arrogance—or maybe curiosity—for a devil noble to sneak into the human world alone, just for a taste of something forbidden.
Bold, spoiled, reckless… but not stupid.
I leaned back again, the ice chair creaking faintly beneath me.
"You're lucky I showed up when I did," I said. "Otherwise you'd be hanging on some Church altar like a prize fish."
Ravel's lips tightened. "I could've gotten out eventually."
"Sure," I smirked. "Right after they branded a cross into your face and started chanting hymns."
She didn't reply to that, but her eyes dropped, the flicker of pride clearly dented. Still, she sat taller than before. Composure returning.
There's strength in her.
It's just buried under a mountain of pride and perfume.
I tapped my finger once on the arm of the chair.
"Well, Phenex," I said, voice slow and deliberate, "you owe me a chocolate bar. Preferably one of those stupid rare ones you almost died for."
That got a small blink of surprise out of her. Then, slowly, just barely, she nodded.
"…Fine. That's fair."
Ravel stood abruptly, brushing off her now-wrinkled dress as her composure returned. With a flick of her wrist and a few murmured words in the old tongue, a shimmering portal swirled open beside us—pulsing with golden-red magic laced in fire and noble authority. The heat it gave off reminded me of a hearth in winter… warm, but dangerous if you got too close.
I narrowed my eyes. "Where do you think you're going?"
She turned, her expression prim with just a hint of superiority returning to her voice. "Home, obviously. And you're coming with me."
Before she could rattle off anything else, I cut in with a smirk.
"Name's Jinx. Jinx Yukimoto. You didn't ask, but I figured it'd be rude to barge into someone's demonic mansion without an introduction."
She blinked at me—surprised by the casual boldness—then nodded once. "Very well then, Jinx Yukimoto. Follow me."
We stepped through the portal together. The world around us bent and twisted for a heartbeat, fire and light streaking past us like embers in a storm—and then, we were somewhere else.
The Phenex Estate.
No sooner had Ravel's heels clicked against the pristine marble floor than a blur of motion streaked toward her.
"Ravel!"
The voice was melodic, mature, and rich with worry—and in the next instant, Ravel was tackled into a warm, luxurious hug by a gorgeously radiant woman. She looked like royalty made flesh: tall and elegant, with flowing golden hair like strands of liquid sunlight, and sharp red eyes that glowed like embers wrapped in velvet.
Ah. That must be Lady Phenex.
She clung to her daughter with a mother's desperation, brushing her fingers through Ravel's hair, inspecting her as if expecting pieces to fall apart in her hands. Ravel groaned under her breath but allowed the embrace.
"I'm fine, Mother," she said, though her voice softened noticeably.
Moments later, two men entered from an arched doorway across the hall. The first was clearly the head of the family—tall, broad-shouldered, his regal golden robes adorned with ancient noble markings. His blond hair was slicked back with careful dignity, and his eyes—glacial blue and heavy with age and power—met mine for an extended moment.
That's the father.
No doubt about it. Lord Adrael Phenex.
His aura radiated strength and restraint, the type of quiet authority that came from centuries of rule, not brutish tyranny. I could feel the flames slumbering inside him, waiting for reason to turn into wrath.
And beside him…
Well, I didn't need to ask who that was.
Riser Phenex strolled in with the confidence of a peacock crossed with a dragon. Blond, sharp-featured, and practically dripping with smug satisfaction, he was a living sculpture of arrogance wrapped in noble entitlement. His blue eyes scanned me, clearly sizing me up—and dismissing me with one glance.
And flanking him… was her.
Yubelluna.
The Bomb Queen.
Her beauty was just this side of ethereal—flowing lavender hair that shimmered like starlight, eyes like blooming violets, and a figure so well-sculpted even Aphrodite would've paused to stare. Her posture was effortless, lips curled into a slight smirk, clearly amused by the situation.
But what interested me most wasn't her looks.
It was the cockiness. The way she stood like a throne should follow her wherever she walked. The way her gaze said you're not worthy before a single word left her mouth.
Perfect.
I didn't want her for love.
Lust was simpler. Cleaner. But even more than that… I wanted to break that pride, piece by piece. Turn that superiority into submission, that confidence into need.
Now that would be a fun project.
Still, I said nothing. Just stood there as the room brimmed with aristocratic tension, my eyes calm, my smirk neutral—but my presence unmistakably felt.
Lady Phenex finally turned toward me, her arms still around Ravel but her gaze now fixed on me with a quiet curiosity.
"And who," she asked with velvet steel in her voice, "is this young man?"
Ravel, to her credit, straightened her shoulders and said with calm confidence, "This is Jinx Yukimoto. He saved me from a group of rogue priests in the human world. I invited him here as thanks."
That earned me a second look from everyone.
Riser scoffed lightly. Yubelluna's smirk widened slightly. Lord Adrael's eyes narrowed.
And I?
I just bowed slightly, just enough to be polite—but not enough to imply submission.
"Pleasure," I said, my voice casual as ever. "Nice place you've got here. Real classy. Bit warm, but I guess that's to be expected from a house of firebirds."
The air in the Phenex Estate grew heavier after my introduction. Eyes weighed me down—each pair for different reasons. Suspicion. Caution. Intrigue. Especially from the man now slowly approaching me.
Lord Adrael Phenex.
His presence was like standing before a dormant volcano—silent, but steeped in destructive potential. His golden robes rustled like silk flame as he stopped just a few feet from me, hands behind his back, posture perfect, voice quiet and smooth.
"I thank you for bringing my daughter home, Jinx Yukimoto," he began, polite but unreadable. "But understand—this is the House of Phenex. We do not allow unknowns to linger without answers."
I tilted my head slightly, watching him with mild amusement. "You want an interrogation? Go ahead. But don't expect me to sing unless I feel like it."
His icy stare didn't waver. "Start with your name. Your true name. And tell me… what exactly are you?"
The room tensed.
Even Lady Phenex—who still held her daughter close—watched us now with narrowed eyes, her beauty sharper, more dangerous. Despite her regal appearance, I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't just a noblewoman. She was a mother. And a devil who had fought to keep her family safe.
"My true name is Jinx Yukimoto," I said evenly. "And what I am… is complicated."
Before Adrael could press further, a voice interrupted, drenched in mockery.
"Complicated? No, you look more like a filthy stray mutt dragged in by my foolish sister," sneered Riser Phenex. He crossed his arms, a derisive smirk plastered across his face. "You should be grateful just to be breathing our air, mongrel. A bastard like you—born from some whore's alley mistake—should count yourself lucky to serve in our kitchens."
The moment the word whore left his mouth, something in me snapped.
Click.
One simple snap of my fingers—and the room changed.
A sudden chill slithered through the air, unnatural and immediate. The marbled floor beneath our feet crackled. The moisture in the room condensed into mist. Then—shunk—a hundred dark gray ice spears erupted from the ground and walls in perfect precision, their jagged tips all aimed directly at Riser's throat, heart, and spine.
The heat of the Phenex Estate evaporated in a breath. A thick layer of frost coated every window. The velvet curtains froze solid. Water in the flower vases turned to ice, shattering the glass with delicate tinks. The aura of the room dimmed beneath the silent scream of winter.
Even Yubelluna gasped, visibly shaken. Ravel instinctively stepped behind her mother. And Lady Phenex…
She simply smirked.
"Enough."
Lord Adrael raised a hand—but paused mid-motion. His eyes had widened. Not in fear… but recognition. He stared directly at the ice spears—and his gaze deepened.
"…Holy energy," he murmured.
A hushed silence fell.
"You sense it too, don't you?" I said, calmly walking forward. Each step echoed like thunder in the cold. "These aren't just ice spears. They're death-bound. Born from a fusion of demonic frost and holy intent. I call it Frostbind Judgment." I grinned. "It responds to insults quite well."
Lady Phenex stepped between us smoothly. Her voice, though gentle, carried a sharp edge.
"Riser," she said, crimson eyes burning, "insult this young man again, and I will have you exiled to the Ash Wastes for a century of reflection. Perhaps there, you'll learn that our name does not give you the right to disgrace it."
Riser paled visibly.
"Lady Phenex," I said with a playful nod, "you've got bite. What's your name?"
She smiled at me, elegant and composed.
"Lady Seraphina Phenex. And I thank you, Jinx Yukimoto, for returning my daughter—and reminding my son that pride without control is rot in golden skin."
Riser was silent now. Humiliated. His queen lowered her eyes, not in submission—but in surprise.
Lord Adrael finally let out a slow breath, tension leaving his shoulders. "You've made your point, Jinx. Quite thoroughly."
With another snap of my fingers, the icicles shattered into black frost and vanished like smoke.
"Good," I said, calmly returning to my conjured chair of ice that had survived the sudden frost. "Now… where were we in your little interrogation?"
Adrael Phenex narrowed his eyes, his golden gaze sharp as a scalpel.
"You've shown cold magic. But do you possess any other forms of magic?"
I tilted my head at him slightly, as if amused by the doubt.
Rather than answer with words, I raised both arms slowly.
A burst of magenta fire curled to life in my left palm—wild, radiant, and searing in its intensity. It wasn't the golden flames of the Phenex, but something far more untamed, a fire that pulsed like a living heartbeat.
In contrast, my right hand shimmered with barely-contained lightning—not bold arcs, but delicate filaments of sky-blue electricity that flickered between my fingers like living veins of stormlight. Around my wrist, water slithered like a sentient ribbon, coiling upward before circling back down, leaving trails of moisture in the air like glowing ink.
The room grew still again. A subtle pressure radiated from the elemental display—heat, static, humidity—all balanced in delicate, masterful harmony.
"W-Wait…" Ravel blinked, her brows rising. "The fire... it's stronger than the lightning."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I quipped, smirking without even glancing her way. "Very astute observation."
She pouted faintly, but I went on before anyone could speak.
"Months after unlocking cold, I unlocked fire, lightning, and water," I said casually, rotating both hands slightly. "Got decent mastery over the fire and water pretty quick. Lightning's still new. I'm working on the fundamentals right now—nerve attunement, discharge regulation, energy compression. The boring bits."
I let the flames and lightning fizzle out with a flick of my fingers, and the water evaporated in a soft hiss.
"Though," I added with a shrug, "I've mostly been focusing on cold magic. It's still my favorite."
Silence fell again, thicker this time.
It wasn't the kind of stunned silence that came from fear or awe. It was something deeper.
Disbelief.
Lady Seraphina stared at me like I had grown wings, a tail, and horns all at once.
Adrael Phenex didn't speak, but his mouth had parted ever so slightly—like someone who'd just seen a legend walk out of a children's storybook.
Even Riser and Yubelluna, who'd spent most of the previous hour bouncing between scorn and curiosity, now looked at me with something far colder in their expressions.
Insecurity.
A human child—still within the span of a single mortal decade—had not only achieved chantless and imageless mastery over cold, but had done the same with fire and water, and was now casually tinkering with lightning. Even amongst upper-class devils, that kind of elemental versatility and speed of development bordered on absurd.
What stung most, I could tell, was that I hadn't even focused on two of the elements. Fire and water were side projects. Lightning was a hobby.
And yet I had reached a level of control that took some devils centuries of refinement.
"I see," Adrael finally said, his voice tight but calm. "So in under ten years, you achieved what most born into magic take half a century to accomplish… and without a bloodline?"
I nodded. "More or less. But I've still got a long way to go."
Lady Seraphina's lips twitched into something between a frown and a dazed smile. "You say that like it's normal, child."
"Because to me, it is," I said softly. "I was bored of being normal by the time I was four."
Ravel blinked and looked at her parents. "So… does this mean we found the reincarnation of Merlin?"
"No," Adrael muttered. "Merlin wasn't this arrogant."
"I am more stylish," I said with a grin, leaning back in the ice chair like I owned the whole house.
The room was still processing. Pride, confusion, and reluctant admiration rippled through the noble family of flame.
And I could feel it—beneath the silence, beneath the frozen awe.
The tides had shifted.
Lady Seraphina's heels clicked once against the polished floor, the sound slicing clean through the silence. Her crimson eyes gleamed with something sharper than gratitude, and her smile—measured, graceful—made every man in the room instinctively straighten their spine.
Even Adrael.
"Shouldn't the one who risked his life to save our daughter…" she said softly, her tone deceptively sweet, "receive a reward, dear husband?"
The warmth in her words was false. Everyone in the room heard the command hidden beneath the velvet.
Adrael's jaw twitched ever so slightly. Riser looked away, pretending to be disinterested, though a twitch in his brow betrayed his irritation. That was his mother's "smile"—the one that haunted his childhood and reminded him, quite regularly, that she was more terrifying than any warlord.
Of course, Riser believed no other woman came close. To him, every other female was either an accessory, a pawn, or a pet. Tools to be used and discarded. Not equals. Never threats.
Adrael finally exhaled and nodded. "Very well," he muttered, clearly reluctant. "Follow me, boy."
Jinx rose from his ice seat with a grin. "Gladly."
They walked in silence through several secured corridors beneath the estate until they reached a wide marble chamber with an enormous sealed door embedded in the wall. Ancient carvings lined the frame—runic markings of the Phenex line—some glowing faintly with ancestral flame. At the center of the door, the golden seal of the Phenex family pulsed gently, waiting.
Adrael stepped forward, holding out his hand. Fire erupted over his palm—not ordinary flame, but the radiant golden blaze unique to their bloodline. He pressed his burning hand to the seal.
The room thrummed.
The door groaned open with a hiss of heat and magic, revealing a vast underground vault.
Jinx's breath caught.
There were hundreds of artifacts—some on pedestals, some suspended mid-air, others sealed in glass or entombed in magical runes. Weapons from ancient wars. Tomes older than most countries. Trinkets humming with dormant power. This wasn't just a vault.
It was a graveyard of forgotten legends.
"These artifacts span back to the earliest generations of our family," Adrael said with a flick of his hand. "Collected, claimed, or… salvaged through the ages. Take three. Any three."
Jinx stepped forward slowly. "Three, huh? That's generous."
But he didn't reach for anything. Instead, he slipped a hand beneath his shirt and pulled out a peculiar artifact hanging on a silver chain. It was shaped like a ring, but jagged and ancient—six golden spikes protruding from the base, with an eerie eye carved at the center.
The Millennium Ring.
The Phenex Lord's brow creased. "What is that?"
"Something that listens when I don't feel like choosing," Jinx said softly. Then, speaking directly to the artifact:
"Show me what I want."
One of the spikes suddenly jerked upward, pointing sharply to the left.
Adrael stiffened at the surge of ancient magic that pulsed in the room.
Jinx turned, walking where the spike guided him. As he moved deeper into the vault, the leftmost spike lowered while the middle one rose.
It pointed toward a pedestal near the far end.
There, resting atop black velvet, was a strange choker—it looked like it had been carved from actual dragon scales. Blood-red in color, the scales shimmered with an unnatural luster. Embedded at its center was a gleaming gem shaped like a two-mouthed dragon in a coiled spiral. As Jinx stepped closer, the jewel's eye shimmered faintly… and the central eye on the Millennium Ring pulsed in response.
A smirk curled Jinx's lips. "Found you."
Adrael, who had followed a few paces behind, stopped when he saw it. His expression darkened with recognition, laced with history.
"That," he said gravely, "was one of the pieces recovered by my grandfather. Nearly 2,500 years ago, during an expedition to Egypt. The choker you're holding was once an object of immense reverence to certain factions of the old Egyptian nobility. Five hundred years ago, the high priesthood tried to reacquire it… violently."
Jinx's eyes sparkled with interest. "Huh. Didn't think it was that important."
Adrael crossed his arms. "There were three jewels like it, each part of a set tied to a royal line long extinct. My grandfather only recovered one. He believed the other two were guarded by a bloodline said to descend directly from their Pharaoh. But no records ever confirmed their location."
"Let me guess…" Jinx's grin widened. "Loyalist survivors, hiding their treasures in plain sight?"
Adrael didn't answer, but the silence was telling.
The dragon's eye on the choker gleamed again. The magic within was still slumbering—but watching.
Jinx fastened the artifact around his neck, feeling a strange warmth coil around his throat. Not constricting. More like a bond forming.
A promise of power to come.
He turned back toward the vault.
"One down," he said with a hungry glint in his eyes. "Two more to go."