The air grew heavy. Too heavy.
Like the very heavens were being pulled down upon the earth.
And then—
BOOM.
A thunderous roar split the skies. Lanterns hanging across the festival streets shattered midair, raining glass and wood as if crushed by unseen hands. The crimson moon pulsed violently, its glow spilling like blood across the cobbled streets. The atmosphere quivered as though the world itself was screaming in agony.
The ground trembled.
The sky cracked.
And before the horrified eyes of every Hunter and civilian… three dimensions fractured at once.
It was not a simple Gate.
It was the collapse of reality itself.
Shards of space floated like broken glass, spinning in a storm of lightning and shadow. Three different dimensional rifts clashed together in one singular point, screaming with impossible power.
From the first tear, two monstrous beasts emerged—each towering nearly ten feet tall. Their bodies were plated in obsidian scales that glistened like volcanic stone. Their claws dug deep into the earth, dragging sparks across the cobbles. Their molten eyes glared at the crowd, their roars splitting eardrums like shattering glass.
But none dared to focus on them.
Because from the middle gate… HE stepped out.
---
The Coolest Entry in History
The first thing to appear was the chain.
A black, glimmering link snaked forward, scraping against the broken earth with the sound of steel grinding bone.
Then—step.
A boot struck the fractured stone. Sparks leapt out where it landed, as though the world itself resisted his presence.
Step by step, a tall figure emerged from the dimensional tear. His body was sculpted in perfect shape, his cloak's edges frayed like smoke. Crimson aura bled from him violently, swirling though no wind blew, painting the night in blood-red haze.
In his hand gleamed a kusarigama—a chained sickle, its curved blade cruel, glowing faintly with a red so dark it seemed alive. The chain coiled around his arm like a serpent, hissing and rattling in rhythm with his steps.
His face was emotionless, drained of hope, but his eyes…
His eyes burned with desire.
Those hollow orbs glowed with violent, crimson light.
The air froze.
Festival lights dimmed.
Even the two monstrous beasts that had followed him lowered their heads in primal submission.
This was not just an enemy.
This was a calamity.
---
The Hunters' Fear
Every Hunter present felt it instantly.
The crushing pressure. The suffocating aura.
This was not the power of an S-rank.
Not even the might of a Rank 1.
It was something far beyond.
The most elite Hunters—the kind who could split mountains or topple armies—felt their knees weaken under the sheer oppression. Their instincts screamed:
Run. Escape. Survive.
And yet… not a single eye could turn away.
On the Association's elevated platform, Chairman Daigo Ren gripped his staff until his knuckles turned bone-white. His old warrior's heart had fought disasters, calamities, and wars before… but this was something else. Something wrong. Something godlike.
> Chairman Daigo Ren (voice trembling):
"That aura… stronger than any S-rank… stronger than Rank 1… No—impossible. His strength feels like… five Rank 1 Hunters fused into one!"
Vice Chairwoman Elira clenched her jaw, her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in horror as her thoughts spilled unbidden:
> Elira (to herself):
"This power… it isn't human. It can't be."
Near the plaza, Yukihana stood with Dr. Ivar. Her violet eyes sharpened, her silver hair rippling under the unnatural wind. Instinctively, frost burst from her fingertips, the ground beneath her freezing solid.
> Yukihana (whispering):
"This pressure… I've never felt anything like this…"
Dr. Ivar bolted toward the center of the festival ground, his instincts torn between fear and duty. His heart screamed warnings, but his legs carried him forward nonetheless.
And in the crowd—Arzen.
He had been chasing the mysterious wolf-masked man, his usual half-sleepy expression never shifting. But in this moment, as the crushing aura washed over him, something changed.
The candy fell from his lips.
His eyes opened fully for the first time in years.
And in them glinted sharpness like blades.
> Arzen (low, to himself):
"...Now this is interesting."
---
The World Holds Its Breath
The kusarigama-wielding figure finally stopped, his boots planted firmly in the center of the festival ground. From the point of contact, cracks spiraled outward like veins of destruction, tearing the stone apart.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised his chained weapon. The iron links clattered, echoing across the silent, suffocating city.
His very presence had swallowed the festival's joy, erased its warmth, and replaced it with a single, undeniable truth:
This was no mere enemy.
This was a harbinger of ruin.
And tonight, under the blood-red moon, the Hunters of Veylor would learn what true despair meant.