The world narrows to the thunderous rhythm of his own heart and the symphony of destruction behind him. Ten meters of scaled malevolence, the Giant Snake Devil, carves a path of annihilation through the ancient forest. Its immense girth, wider than a man is tall, grinds against towering oaks, its sharp, plate-like scales slicing through bark and heartwood with a sound like a hundred swords being sharpened at once. The air is thick with the scent of pine resin, churned earth, and something else—a dry, reptilian musk that coats Rian's throat.
He doesn't dare look back. His lungs burn, each breath a ragged gasp. Sunlight dapples through the canopy, creating a strobe-like effect that disorients him.
A massive fallen log, moss-covered and slick, appears in his path. It's a hurdle, not a barrier. His muscles coil, adrenaline singing in his veins. Yes. I can clear it. He leaps, a desperate, horizontal flight.
Then—a sickening snap. The worn leather of his right shoe catches on a jagged branch of the log. The world tilts. His mind, a moment ago a crystal of focus, shatters into a thousand panicked fragments. No! Is this the end? The thought is a cold shard in his gut. Momentum betrays him, and he tumbles, landing hard on the loamy earth in a bone-jarring roll.
The serpent seizes the opportunity. A guttural hiss, a sound like tearing metal, rips through the forest, so potent it feels like a physical blow. The ground trembles as the beast surges forward, its massive head weaving through the trees, its obsidian eyes locking onto its fallen prey.
Scrambling to his feet, a primal terror overriding the pain.His eyes scan the forest floor, a frantic search for anything, anything to use. His fingers close around a broken branch, its end splintered into a crude, sharp point. It's a toothpick against a god, but it's all he has.
He spins to face the closing devil and aims for the only soft spot he can see—one of those chilling black eyes. A whisper escapes his lips,Blood rush. A flow of energy, warm and electric, answers his call, igniting his nerves and flooding his muscles. His senses sharpen; the world slows down. The decaying leaf in his periphery, the individual glints on the snake's scales, the subtle shift of its powerful coils.
The Snake Devil rears back, its mouth gaping wide to reveal the nightmare within. Two colossal, dripping fangs, glistening with a venom that smells of bitter almonds and rot, slide forward from their sheaths. The promise of a paralyzing, agonizing death.
Rian takes a deep, shuddering breath, the scent of his own fear mixing with the forest's decay. Here we go! The scream is torn from him, a raw sound of defiance. He launches himself forward, a living javelin.
They clash in a whirlwind of scales, wood, and flesh. The snake is a blur of calculated strikes, its speed a brutal advantage. Rian's world becomes a desperate dance of evasion and thrust. He jabs the stick towards its eye, but the devil's head twists with impossible agility. A fang, like a polished scimitar, grazes his side, tearing through his tunic and the skin beneath. A line of fire erupts across his chest, followed instantly by a warm, sticky flow of blood. Aah!This scream is different—a cry of shock and searing pain.
The force of the blow throws him back. He skids across the ground, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. His body screams in protest, the world swimming in and out of focus. The poison, a cold numbness, begins to creep from the wound. Why is it so hard? Do they want to kill me? The thought is a desperate, broken thing.
He stands. His legs tremble, his chest a canvas of crimson. He will not die on his knees.
Step aside!
A new voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through his haze. A girl with short, fiery red hair and piercing gray eyes is suddenly there, a blur of motion. In one hand, she holds a parchment inscribed with a complex design—a crescent moon entangled in esoteric patterns. Her other hand is already moving.
The summoner of this devil is missing. The snake can kill you.
Before Rian can process her words, she thrusts her free hand forward. A torrent of explosive fire, roaring like an awakened beast, erupts from her palm. It slams into the serpent's flank. The scales blacken and crackle, the stench of burning keratin filling the air. A brilliant flash of orange and yellow illuminates the darkened forest. The devil recoils, a pained hiss escaping its maw.
Seeing her opening, the girl darts forward with practiced grace. She slaps the patterned paper onto the snake's broad forehead. The paper glows with a silvery, lunar light. The serpent's writhing ceases instantly, its massive body freezing mid-strike, becoming little more than a terrifying statue woven from scale and shadow.
Rian's eyes are wide, his mind struggling to catch up. A fire user? The question is a fleeting spark in his dimming consciousness. The adrenaline that was sustaining him evaporates, and the full, crushing weight of his injury takes hold. The world tilts on its axis, colors bleeding into a gray murkiness. He feels himself falling, the sight of the red-haired girl the last thing he registers before darkness swallows him whole.
He awakens to a strange, warming sensation. There is no pain. He blinks, his vision clearing to see the girl standing over him, her expression one of mild impatience. A soft, violet flame is dancing over his chest. It doesn't burn. Instead, it feels like liquid sunlight, sinking into his skin, knitting flesh and muscle back together with an incredible, intimate precision. He can feel the shattered pathways of his nerves reconnecting, the poison being purged in a single, clean sweep. In moments, the flame dissipates. He looks down. His skin is whole, unblemished. Not even a scar remains. It is as if the attack never happened.
He slowly gets to his feet, his strength fully returned. He puts a hand to his chest, feeling only the firm muscle and the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath his tunic, which is still torn but no longer stained with blood.
Thank you… for saving my life,he says, his voice hushed with awe. Then, the burning curiosity returns, overpowering his gratitude. But how… how are you using fire magic? I've never seen anything like that.
The girl, Nova, lets out a short, derisive laugh. Seriously? You want to know how am I using fire magic? You were literally going to die, kiddo. And you should be glad that I came to save you.
The condescension in her voice is like a spark to tinder. The fear and frustration of the last hour boil over. Kiddo? I don't even know who you are!
Stop the argument and save other students, you fools!
A new voice, heavy with authority and laced with pure menace, cuts through their rising tension. A man in his forties, clad in a crisp brown and black uniform adorned with three gleaming medals, stands before them. He has arrived on the back of a massive Bird Devil, whose talons have gouged deep furrows in the earth. The commander's face is a mask of dead seriousness, his eyes promising swift and severe punishment for any further disobedience. His mount lets out a piercing screech that silences the very insects in the trees.
Rian and Nova freeze mid-word. A sudden, profound silence blankets the clearing. They turn slowly, their faces paling as they recognize Commander Marcus Black. Swallowing becomes difficult, their throats tight with instinctive fear. His gaze alone feels like a physical weight, pinning them in place. A single wrong move, a single spoken word, feels like it would be their last.
In perfect, terrified unison, they snap their right hands to their foreheads in a sharp salute. Yes, Commander!
Marcus gives them a single, curt nod. Go ahead and rescue the students and bring them to the east wall HQ. It's an order! Without another word, he remounts his devil. The great beast beats its powerful wings, kicking up a whirlwind of leaves and dirt as it ascends, carrying the commander back towards the safety of the walls.
For a long moment, neither of them moves. What is going on? And why do I have to rescue other students with this girl? Rian's thought is a silent scream of frustration.
Nova is the first to break the stillness, her voice all business now. Let's go, kiddo. My name is Nova Blake. What is yours?
It's Rian Frey, he replies, his tone stiff. Such a rude way of asking a name-he says.Nova ignores her reply.
They begin a terse, ten-minute discussion, their previous argument simmering just beneath the surface. They conclude that the immediate area is silent; no screams echo through the trees. Nova, asserting a clear hierarchy of knowledge, insists they head north. That's deeper forest. The students there are more likely to be in danger.
Well, if I am also going to rescue them, then I should know why the devils are attacking them. After all, I am their classmate, Rian presses, trying to reclaim some footing.
Nova relents slightly. The summoner who was controlling all the devils is now missing, possibly kidnapped. That's why the devils are now free to attack and kill humans. The sheer amount of information she possesses surprises him again.
She seems to read his mind. I know that you are still eager to know how I can use fire magic. She fixes him with her gray eyes. After we rescue all the students and bring them back to East Wall HQ, I will tell everything, including why I am here.
As they push north, the character of the forest changes. The air grows colder, the light dimmer. Then, a sound fractures the silence—a boy's voice, shouting in panic from their left.
That voice seems familiar to me, Rian says, his body tensing. We should go there as soon as possible.
They sprint towards the sound, but as they draw closer, the cry begins to change. It warps, distorting, the human fear within it being stripped away and replaced by something ancient and predatory. It is no longer a voice shouting for help; it has become the guttural, weeping howl of a devil.
They burst into a small clearing and stop dead, confronted by an unbelievable scene. A boy, Hiron Shigeru, is standing triumphantly on the back of a massive Sköll, a wolf-devil with two burning eyes on each side of its head and a single, baleful third eye glaring from its forehead. The Sköll's tail lies severed and twitching on the ground, and the beast itself is taking ragged, final-sounding breaths.
Hiron turns to them, a wide, foolish grin splitting his face. Hey guys! Look whom I just defeated.
As soon as the words leave his mouth, the impossible happens. The severed tail on the ground dissolves into black smoke and reforms, reattaching to the Sköll's body in an instant. The beast's wounds seal shut. It rises with a speed that defies logic, its six eyes burning with incandescent rage. It throws back its head and howls—a sound so full of hate and power that every leaf on every tree for fifty meters shivers from their branches in a cascading rain of green. The sonic force of the cry slams into Hiron, throwing him from its back to the ground.
Rian's blood runs cold. You idiot! It's a Sköll, it's immortal! Run! His own voice cracks with terror.
Hiron scrambles to his feet and dashes towards them, but the Sköll is already moving. It lifts a claw, dark energy coalescing around it, preparing to eviscerate the fleeing boy.
A cold certainty settles over Rian. I wish I had any other choice.There is no time for doubt. He slams both his palms onto the ground, pouring every ounce of his will, his life force, into the earth. The soil churns and erupts as a gargantuan, spectral face—the Fenrir—manifests from the ground in a torrent of black smoke and primordial fury. It solidifies just in time, its jagged, ethereal teeth closing around the Sköll's head, ripping its lower jaw clean off. Black blood, like tar, sprays from the horrific wound.
The Sköll stumbles back, but its regeneration is already at work, bone and muscle knitting back together with terrifying speed. The Fenrir's colossal claws now emerge from the earth, grabbing the wolf-devil by its neck, pinning it. The Fenrir throws back its own head and unleashes a howl that is the very antithesis of the Sköll's—a sound of pure, annihilating authority. The pressure of the cry causes the Sköll's ears to bleed, its six eyes blinking in agony.
Now! Use a seal on the Sköll! Rian commands Nova, his voice a raw, guttural shout. The strain of maintaining the Fenrir is immense; he feels a hot trickle of blood escape the corner of his mouth.
Nova, shaking off her shock, rushes forward. Her mind is a whirlwind, calculating the odds, assessing the devil's power. This is no simple serpent. She pulls an A-rank seal from a hidden pocket, its paper thick and intricately inked. She slaps it against the Sköll's heaving flank.
The seal instantly burns, the paper turning to black ashes in less than a second. It wasn't nearly enough.
Enraged beyond measure, the Sköll summons an impossible burst of speed, twisting free from the Fenrir's grasp. It moves like a shadow, a blur of soundless motion, and slams into Nova before she can react. She is thrown backwards, her head connecting with the hard ground with a sickening crack. Stars explode in her vision, and the world fades to a dull gray roar. I am gonna faint…
Hiron! Call backup, immediately! Rian yells, but his friend is already fumbling with a communication device, his face ashen.
It is too late. The Sköll casts its domain.
The world dissolves. The sky above turns a deep, lightless black. The trees around them don't just fall; they combust and turn to fine, gray ash in the blink of an eye. The ground beneath their feet shakes violently, a magnitude six earthquake that tears fissures in the earth. The very air becomes heavy, thick as syrup, and difficult to breathe, pressing down on them with malignant intent.
They are trapped. This is the devil's world now.
But before the Sköll can deliver its final attack, the fabric of the black sky itself tears open. A ginormous portal, rimmed with crackling violet energy, swirls into existence. From it steps a man. A human form with vast, shadowy wings furled behind him. His eyes are pools of absolute blackness, his body a roadmap of scars over corded muscle. His clothes are regal, befitting a king, adorned with a blood-red cape.
His voice, when he speaks, is so deep it seems to originate from the earth's core. It is layered with a power that is fundamentally other, a sound so terrifying it feels like it could stop a human heart. It is not here. Let's move, Shadowang.
He is speaking to the Sköll. He calls it by name.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, a massive burst of black smoke erupts, consuming the entire clearing. Rian shields his eyes, coughing. When the smoke clears, the domain is gone. The sky is once again the forest canopy. The trees are still standing, though now charred and lifeless. The mysterious man and the Sköll, Shadowang, have vanished without a trace.
Rian lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and releases the Fenrir. The spectral giant dissolves back into smoke that sinks into the earth. The sudden absence of the summoning strain is a physical relief, and a weary smile touches his lips before his legs give out. He faints, collapsing onto the carpet of ash.
Hiron watches, stunned, as the last remnants of the domain fade, leaving behind a circle of forest turned to charcoal, a permanent scar of the battle. The silence that returns is deafening, and heavy with unanswerable questions.