Stone sighed, shaking loose the thoughts that clung like smoke. The balcony gave him no comfort. He turned from the night, back into his room, and dressed with quiet precision: black hoodie, black sweatpants, black sneakers. A shadow in flesh.
In the next breath, he was gone—space folding around him, leaving his chamber empty.
The city unfolded beneath him. He didn't wander. He had somewhere to go.
His former home.
*******
The house had changed—renovated, clean lines, new paint, another family inside. A husband. A wife. A son. They belonged there now. But this place… this was where Stone had died. Where he had lost his mother. Where betrayal had burned his name into ash.
He stood silent outside, watching them through the glass. They laughed together. A perfect scene. His chest felt nothing but the hollow echo of memory.
There was one wound he never spoke of: his father. A ghost without a face. His mother had never whispered his name, only wrapped it in venom and silence. But Stone didn't need words—he had always felt it. He could sense emotions like others felt air. It was his gift. His curse. He had seen through everyone… except Ben.
Stone's gaze lingered on the warm glow of family, then fell cold. He turned, dissolving into the night. There was somewhere else he needed to be.
Tonight mattered. Not to him—but to one of his own.
Her name was Rose.
A maid of the mansion.
Blonde hair that caught light, blue eyes that carried softness. Beautiful, yes, but beauty had no weight with him. She was just Rose. Quiet. Simple. Innocent. She worked to survive, using her meager wages to keep her place in a school filled with polished wealth. She didn't belong among them, and they never let her forget it.
Tonight was a school party. Couples only. Exclusive. Behind its velvet ropes, an emissary from a prestigious company—Rose's dream company—was said to be hunting for new talent. It was her only chance. Writing letters had gone unanswered. Reservations cost more than her life was worth. This event… this was everything.
But she was alone. And the guards at the gate shoved her back, mocking. No date, no entry.
Stone, crouched high on a rooftop nearby, watched. His real purpose tonight was the demon in the alley below. He was waiting for demon hunters, who would soon arrive, unknowing that their end was already written. But his gaze snagged on a figure at the gates.
"...Rose?"
He narrowed his eyes, the hood shadowing his grin. She was dressed for the occasion. And the guards shoved her again. His jaw twitched.
Then another girl stepped from the hall. Same age, dressed in glitter and silk. Amber. She smiled with cruel sweetness.
"Hey, Rose… I gave you an invite even though you don't belong here. I should've known—a rat like you belongs in the gutter."
Rose didn't snarl back. She never did. Her smile trembled, but her words were kind. "Thank you, Amber. I appreciate your invitation… but it looks like I can't attend. Goodbye." Tears welled, though she fought them.
From the rooftop, Stone's eyes burned vermilion. A hawk considering the fragile bird below.
He turned away. The real hunt was here.
Three dark silhouettes approached in the distance—demon hunters. He dropped into the alley.
The demon was already there, crouched in filth. It looked less like a beast than a broken human—skin crawling as if alive, three eyes glowing, a mouth ruined by too many teeth. It didn't bare its fangs at him. It trembled.
Stone studied it, and his voice slid into the dark.
"Transfigured soul. Body possessed against your will. Your soul abandoned."
The demon's gaze flickered with recognition. Its croaking voice broke into words.
"__Gray…son… this was Rose. Her soul… abandoned."
Blood tears dripped from its eyes. It looked at him with something painfully human. A plea. Kill me.
Stone crouched before it, tilting his head like a curious predator.
"If your soul is cast out… why does the body still cling to what you wanted as a human?"
It shook. He leaned closer, calm, analytical.
"Two souls. One real, one temporary. The copy doesn't even know it isn't real. Curious…"
He stood. "Four minutes from now, demon hunters will come. They'll kill both you, and the other her."
The demon flinched. Fear.
"But they won't." He turned his vermilion gaze toward the mouth of the alley. "Because I'll kill them first."
A flicker of movement.
Another Rose—human, whole—walked past the alley mouth, casual clothes, blue jeans and jacket. His eyes locked on her. He moved in an instant, seizing her. The air behind her ripped as three kunai, glowing with sickly green aura, struck the wall where she had stood.
The hunters had arrived.
Three of them. Two men, one woman. All clad in black combat suits. One carried a longsword, another twin blades, the woman a whip. Their auras cut through the air like blades.
Stone stood at the alley's heart, the unconscious Rose in his arms, the transfigured Rose trembling at his side.
"Who is he?" one hunter asked.
"Is he the one who faced Commander Ben and Lara?" the woman demanded, never taking her eyes from him.
"No doubt about it," the second man growled. "The Daemon Monarch. And we kill him here."
Stone chuckled under his hood. "Demon Monarch, huh… I like it."
Then he vanished in smoke—black and red.
The hunter's strike smashed only asphalt, splitting the ground with cracks. "Did he run?" one barked.
"Run?" A voice echoed from the rooftop. They all looked up. Two vermilion flames burned where eyes should be. His silhouette was carved from shadow. "Run where?"
They turned, and his voice hissed behind the girl.
"who's running ?"
She spun—nothing. He was still above. But his words had curled inside her skull. She trembled. "Telepathic…?"
"Get out of our heads!" they roared, rushing.
Too late.
Stone dropped among them. His movements were silence and violence. A kick to the girl's gut sent her flying into a wall. His backhand shattered the first man's skull, blood misting the air. A knee crushed the second's face, bone snapping under force too cruel for words. All three fell like puppets with their strings cut.
Only the girl stirred, coughing. He was already before her. His hand closed around her throat, lifting her like a doll. His hood hid his face, but the vermilion fire beneath it devoured her. She felt her soul recoil.
"I wanted to leave a message," he said softly, voice human and not. "But your corpses will speak louder."
Her neck snapped with a crack. Silence fell. He dropped her.
The alley was painted in broken bodies. The message had been written.
Stone vanished again. When he reappeared, it was on a rooftop, Rose in his arms. Her skin cracked with dark veins—the false soul unraveling. He knelt, holding her close. Shadows swarmed them, devouring light until only darkness reigned. Then they receded.
Her body lay whole. The cracks gone. Pale blue sparks rained down—her true soul, returning. She stirred, eyes wet, tears spilling as she clung to him. "Thank you, Grayson…"
But Stone felt nothing. No satisfaction. No joy. Only the cold logic of survival. He thought, You are useful to me, Rose. A tool I cannot afford to lose to human weakness.
He held her still, her tears soaking his hoodie. She wept with relief. He only stared.
********
Inside the ceremony hall, wealth glittered. Crystal chandeliers. Gowns that cost more than lives. Silk and champagne and laughter gilded the air.
A young man excused himself from the girls surrounding him. Richard Ore. Second son of the Harlan family. He slipped into the restroom, running water over his manicured hands.
In the mirror, a hooded figure.
He spun. Too slow. Stone's hand closed around his throat, slamming him into the mirror, cracks spiderwebbing across the glass. Richard gasped, choking. The weight on him felt like a mountain.
"Who… are you? What do you want?"
Stone's voice cut like broken steel.
"You are Richard Ore. Second son of Benjamin Ore. You asked Rose to be yours. She rejected you. And what did you do?" He pressed harder. "I know."
Richard's throat rattled under his grip. His eyes widened at the vermilion flame staring into his.
"If you ever look at Rose again… if you So much as breathe her name… I will kill you. And every drop of blood tied to you."
Stone released him. Richard crumpled, trembling, pants soaked in fear. Stone walked out, silent.
**********
Back in the alley, two men in suits stood over the corpses of the hunters. Sunglasses at night. Calm, analytical.
"They were killed in less than a second," one said.
"Which means they were dead before they even realized it." The other's jaw tightened.
"Have you noticed how pure the demon aura is here....this is means....
"This is bad. We need to report."
They turned to leave, their words final.
"The Daemon Monarch… has been reborn"