✦ Northern Demon Realm — Battle Crater
Silence wasn't silent.
It rang.
It buzzed.
It howled—a high, sharp note inside every skull present.
The world had gone white when the Titan Gorilla's fist came down. Now the light was gone, replaced by dust and smoke and the creaking groan of tortured stone.
Gabe coughed grit out of his lungs and pushed himself up on shaking arms.
His ears rang. His ribs throbbed, screaming with every breath. Half the world looked wrong.
"...Seris?" he rasped.
Wind stirred around him weakly. Not natural wind—hers.
"I'm… here," Seris answered hoarsely from somewhere to his left. "I kept… a buffer. Barely."
Gabe blinked dust out of his eyes, vision gradually sharpening.
The Titan Gorilla's fist had punched a crater into the pass—wide enough to swallow a carriage, deep enough that the bottom was shadowed. Cracks radiated outward like black lightning in the stone.
And right beneath that impact—
"Captain…," Gabe whispered.
He staggered up, ignoring the protests of his body, and ran toward the crater's edge.
"CAPTAIN!" he roared, voice shredded, not caring if it attracted more monsters. "DRAEN!!"
He skidded to a stop.
For a heartbeat, he thought the fist had simply obliterated him.
Then he saw it.
Half-buried under pulverized rock and fractured earth, a shimmering distortion field still flickered—a shredded bubble of warped space where Draen had tried to force one last Gravity Rend.
It hadn't been enough.
But it had been something.
Inside that collapsing distortion, he saw a shape—
crushed, unmoving—
"Seris!" Gabe shouted. "He's alive—I think he's alive!"
She pushed herself toward him, one hand pressed against her bleeding shoulder, breath ragged. Her wind whispered out, pushing some dust away.
Her eyes widened.
Draen Valos lay on his back in the crater—armor shattered, coat shredded, one leg bent at an angle that bone shouldn't allow, blood pooling beneath him. His katana was still in his hand, blade driven into the ground, as if he'd refused to let it go even as he took the hit.
His chest moved.
Barely.
"C-captain…" Seris' voice broke.
Gabe didn't wait. He jumped down into the crater, boots sliding, knees almost giving as he reached Draen's side.
"Hey! Old man! Hey!" Gabe grabbed his shoulder, shook lightly. "Don't you dare be dead, you stubborn lizard!"
Draen's eyelids twitched.
A low, rough sound crawled out of his throat—half growl, half broken exhale.
"…Report," he rasped.
Gabe let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost a sob. "Still alive. Barely. You idiot."
Seris slid down with more control, wind easing her descent. She dropped to her knees, hand glowing faint green—low-tier healing woven through air.
She pressed it to Draen's chest—not to heal, not really. Just to stabilize.
"Don't move," she whispered, voice trembling. "You're half broken."
Draen ignored that.
"Convoy?" he asked, voice rough.
Gabe's expression darkened. He looked up toward the road.
Above the crater, the pass was chaos.
Knights sprawled in broken positions against rocks. Some still moved, dragging themselves up, clutching weapons. Others didn't.
Fanglings prowled the edges, testing weakened wards with claws and molten drool. Bladebacks circled overhead in tightening patterns. The Magilion brood stood in disciplined rows like flaming executioners, watching.
The Titan Gorilla loomed over the crater, chest still partially collapsed from Draen's earlier Gravity Compression—but not dead. Just enraged. Lava-like blood dripped from the imploded section.
The lieutenants on the ridge watched in eerie stillness.
This wasn't just a monster attack anymore.
This was a siege.
Gabe swallowed.
"Convoy's… about half standing," he forced out. "Barriers are gone on the first two carriages. Third is cracked. Fourth and fifth still stable. Sixth… I can't see it from here."
Draen's hand tightened weakly on his katana hilt.
"We can't… win," Seris said quietly. Her voice was steady, but her eyes weren't. "Not against that. Not in this terrain. We're outnumbered and out-ranked."
Draen grunted. "I know."
Gabe stared at him. "So what do we do?"
The Titan Gorilla raised its fist again.
✦ The Voice of the Abyss
It didn't swing.
Not yet.
The air thickened instead.
Mana—no, not mana. Something older. Something deeper. The pressure of it pressed against skulls, against lungs, against thoughts.
Every living thing on the field flinched.
Even the monsters.
Seris clutched her head. "What—what is that—?"
Gabe dropped to one knee, teeth bared, fighting nausea.
"Is that… a spell?"
Draen knew.
Oh, he knew.
From somewhere beyond the Rift—from miles away and yet everywhere at once—
a presence pressed in.
Heavy as a mountain.
Sharp as a blade.
Burning with humiliating, ancient rage.
A voice rolled across the battlefield, not spoken aloud, but forced directly into their minds.
—Where… is the boy.—
Gabe's heart stumbled.
Seris went pale.
Draen's eyes burned gold, pupils thin.
The voice snarled, every word a claw.
—I smell royal blood. I smell the Demon King's wretched crest. I smell your fear. But I do not smell him.—
The Feral Magilion's mane flared brighter, echoing that rage.
Draen hissed between bloodied teeth. "Behemoth…"
The Abyssal Behemoth Dragon. Somewhere in the Vhor'kai Rift—or deeper—it was projecting part of its will here. Its lieutenants were not acting alone.
—You drag little royals across my land and dare to think you are unseen?— the voice rumbled. —You think you can move princesses and pawns without consequence?—
The VIP carriage, still mostly intact, gleamed faintly behind the shattered wards.
Seris' gaze flicked to it in terror. "They're… they're after the royalty…?"
—You are not the one who shamed me, little convoy, the voice snarled, raw hatred bleeding through. —But you will do. I will tear your banners. I will grind your blood into the dirt. I will make the world remember what it means to defy me.—
The Titan Gorilla's fist clenched.
The Magilion brood raised their heads.
Bladebacks shifted formation.
The second wave was coming.
Draen forced his broken body to move. "Seris."
She blinked down at him, tears in her eyes. "Y-yes—"
"Retreat."
She stared. "We— we can't—"
"We will." His voice hardened, dragon steel beneath the blood. "Get as many as you can behind the third and fourth carriages. Consolidate. Protect the VIPs. We buy time."
"But you—"
"Do it," he ordered.
Her wind shivered.
Then flowed.
Seris wiped her face sharply, forcing her composure back on like armor.
"Yes, Captain."
She rose, hand flicking outward, wind bursting in a sudden concussive blast that shoved nearby Fanglings away from the crater lips. Gabe grabbed Draen under the arms.
"On three," Gabe muttered. "Try not to die on the way up, yeah?"
Draen grunted something that might have been a laugh, might have just been pain.
Together—with wind pushing beneath them like invisible hands—they dragged the Captain out of the crater while monsters regrouped.
The second wave descended.
✦ VIP Carriage — Second Princess of Groblinheim
Inside the largest carriage, panic wasn't allowed to show as panic.
It came out as anger instead.
Noble demons clutched the sides of velvet seats, horns sharp, teeth clenched. A minor Marquis' daughter wept silently into gloved hands. A Duke's attendant muttered rapid prayers under his breath.
And one girl sat with her arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling like the world had personally insulted her.
Elzra Groblinheim, Second Princess of the Hobgoblin Kingdom of Groblinheim— Southeast Strategists, Mistress of Subterranean Warfare (in her own head)—tapped one long nail against the window frame.
Her black hair was tied in a high tail that swayed with every shake of the carriage. Golden rings in her pointed hobgoblin ears chimed faintly. She wore high-class enchanted robes etched with faint tactical runes—subtle, efficient, expensive.
The carriage shook violently as something slammed into the outer wards.
Screams muffled outside.
A young noble boy grabbed the edge of her seat. "P-princess—are we going to—"
"Don't touch me," she snapped without looking at him, jerking her leg away. "And stop shaking. It's pathetic."
He recoiled, flushing with fear and embarrassment.
Elzra rolled her eyes and glanced out the window slit, watching blade-shadows flash and flames climb into the sky.
"Honestly," she muttered. "This is what passes for a royal escort in the Demon Kingdom? I expected better from the realm that claims to own half the Mortal Layer."
Her mind flicked back, unbidden, to the letter that had dragged her out here in the first place.
Due to an incident on academy grounds, Demon Academy will be entering a temporary suspension period. Once the situation is resolved, your daughter's enrollment will be rescheduled.
Nothing else. No details. No explanation.
Even after her parents—King and Queen of Groblinheim—had pushed, the answer had been the same: classified.
Her father had narrowed his slitted eyes, muttered that demons hiding information was never simple. Her mother had simply smirked and said, "If they can't tell us, it must have been big."
Elzra had been furious.
She was Elzra Groblinheim. Second Princess. Genius magi. Spirit, Light, and Earth affinity. Specialist in large-scale teleportation spells. She wasn't used to being kept out of anything.
Now she was stuck in a carriage in the middle of nowhere, shaking because some overgrown beasts were having a tantrum.
"Tch," she clicked her tongue. "Annoying."
The door burst open.
A knight, panting, armor cracked, blood down one side of his face, stared inside. "Is— is there a certified transport-class Mage among you!?"
Half the nobles stared blankly. One raised a fan like a shield.
Elzra slowly raised her hand.
Every head turned.
The knight blinked. "...You?"
She lifted her chin.
"I am Elzra Groblinheim," she said coolly. "Second Princess of the Hobgoblin Kingdom. I specialize in mid-to-large-scale teleportation arrays. Spirit, Light, and Earth aligned. Obviously it's me."
The knight swallowed. "C-can you move us? We're being pushed back. If we can get at least some of the convoy out—"
"How many?" she interrupted.
He stared. "What?"
"How many bodies?" she clarified, irritation creeping into her tone. "A teleport array is not simply 'move everything.' There are limits. You want to abuse my casting, at least do it intelligently."
He flinched. "Uh— half of the remaining knights, at best. One carriage, maybe two if we cram them."
She did quick math.
Mana load.
Array complexity.
Risk factor.
"Tch. Fine," she said. "But you will make sure no one touches me while I cast. Not even a single beast. If something interrupts me, we all die horribly, and it will be your fault, not mine."
He nodded so fast his neck nearly snapped. "Y-yes, Your Highness!"
"Then tell your Captain," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I will require a stable anchor zone. This carriage will serve as circle center."
He bolted.
Elzra exhaled slowly through her nose, then stood and flicked her fingers.
Light runes spilled beneath her feet in concentric circles, climbing the walls, forming a dome of complex sigils. Spirit glyphs interwove with them, faint ghostly lines connecting each noble and knight inside the carriage to her central casting point.
She pressed a palm to the floor. Earth answered. Not in stone exactly—but in the sense of place. Coordinates.
"Pathetic," she muttered. "Having to burn a large-scale spell on something this… low."
Her hands shook, just slightly.
She ignored that.
✦ Regroup at the Carriage
Outside, Seris and Gabe staggered toward the convoy with Draen half-supported between them.
"Move!" Seris shouted, wind amplifying her voice. "Fall back around the third and fourth carriages! Tight circle! Shields overlapping!"
Knights who could still move obeyed, some dragging injured comrades, others limping while still raising weapons.
Fanglings rushed in, sensing weakness.
Seris' hands traced rapid symbols—wind blades burst outward in crisscross patterns, slicing through the first wave. The cut wasn't clean—her magic was ragged, overtaxed—but it bought seconds.
Seconds counted.
"Gabe!" she cried. "Left flank!"
"Got it!" he roared back.
He pivoted, sword carving a brutal upward arc. A Fangling's head went flying. Another tried to leap past him—he twisted, shoulder-checking it mid-air, then brought his blade down like an executioner's guillotine.
They reached the carriage cluster.
VIP carriage in the center.
Two others half-protecting its front and rear.
The knight who'd found Elzra ran to meet them. "Captain! We have a teleport-class Magi inside the VIP carriage—Princess Elzra of Groblinheim. She says she can move half of us out—maybe!"
Seris' eyes widened. "Teleportation? Large-scale? Here?"
Draen's eyes—half-lidded from pain—snapped sharper.
"Protect. That. Carriage," he growled.
Gabe spat blood. "You heard the man! Full ring! If anything touches that box, I'm killing someone on our side!"
Knights formed a defensive ring, shields up, weapons drawn. Seris' wind spun into a shaky dome over them—patchy, flickering, but there.
Beyond the ring, the Abyssal army reorganized.
The Titan Gorilla smashed its fists together, molten blood dripping. Fanglings spread into a crescent around the convoy. Bladebacks shifted into wings of steel. The Magilion brood lined up like firing squads.
Up on the ridge, the lieutenants watched.
And somewhere far behind them, the Abyssal Behemoth Dragon's presence weighed on everything.
✦ Inside the Spell Circle — Elzra's Cast
Elzra stood in the center of the carriage, eyes half-lidded, arms out.
Light runes spiraled beneath her feet—clean, angular, geometric, interlocking. Spirit threads extended from her chest outward, touching each person in the carriage with faint ghostly chains.
Earth mana anchored below them, sinking into the rock, measuring distance and depth.
This wasn't a pretty spell.
It was a logistical nightmare.
"Everyone shut up," she said crisply, not opening her eyes. "If anyone screams or starts praying loudly, I will miscalculate on purpose and leave you behind."
A noble sniffled. Another sobbed quietly into his scarf.
Elzra's brow furrowed. "I said. Quiet."
The air inside the carriage grew heavy with mana.
Outside, something slammed into the barrier.
The carriage jolted.
She didn't flinch outwardly.
Her heart hammered.
"I swear," she muttered under her breath, "if I die doing charity work for demon nobles, I'm haunting someone."
Her thoughts flicked, just for a heartbeat, back to the academy letter.
An incident.
No further information.
She grit her teeth.
"Stupid Demon Academy. I bet whatever happened there was ten times worse than this and they still refused to tell us anything."
A memory of her father at the war table.
"If the Demon King hides it, it's either shame or strategy," he'd said. "Both are dangerous."
Now, staring at the runes under her feet, Elzra couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was happening here…
…was connected.
"Focus, Elzra," she told herself. "You're the strongest Mage in this carriage. Possibly in this entire escort. Obviously."
Her hands trembled again.
She snarled internally at her own nerves.
✦ Desperate Defense
Outside, the second wave began.
The Magilions exhaled abyssal fire again—blue-white pillars screaming across the air.
Seris pushed both hands up, wind matrices locking into place—angled planes of compressed air that deflected the flames upward, where they split around her dome in twin rivers of fire.
She screamed anyway as the heat seared her arms.
Her wind flickered.
The next volley would break through.
"Seris!" Gabe shouted. "You good!?"
"NO!" she shouted back, but her voice almost sounded like laughter. "But I'm still here!"
The Titan Gorilla roared, charging forward, each pounding step cracking the road further.
Fanglings followed in its shadow.
Gabe tightened his grip.
"Alright," he muttered. "One more round."
He exhaled once, centering himself, then surged forward, meeting the first Fangling with a spinning cleave that opened its spine. He didn't fight like a knight.
He fought like someone who'd grown up needing to kill to eat.
Every strike was lethal.
Every motion counted.
He saw openings where others saw chaos.
"What are you doing!?" a younger knight shouted. "You'll be cut off!"
"Then don't let them cut me off!" Gabe snapped, already advancing.
Behind him, Draen half-sat against a carriage wheel, katana across his knees. He could barely move his leg; half his ribs felt like shattered glass.
But his eyes tracked every motion.
If any beast slipped past Gabe's line toward the carriage, Draen's blade flickered—invisible cuts of space severing limbs, slicing claws, redirecting trajectories.
He couldn't lead the charge anymore.
So he defended the heart.
"Seris!" he called roughly. "Status on the teleportation!?"
She grit her teeth, pushing against the wind.
"Ask the princess yourself!" she shouted back, voice tight. "I'm a little busy keeping us not-dead!"
✦ Abyssal Behemoth's Mockery
The pressure came again.
Heavier.
Colder.
Like the world itself had inhaled.
—You think to run from me?—
The voice of the Abyssal Behemoth Dragon rolled over the battlefield like distant thunder.
Seris flinched, wind trembling.
Gabe's knees buckled for half a second before he forced himself upright again.
Draen's jaw clenched so hard blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
—Drag your little royals into my shadow and flee when the air grows hot?— the voice sneered. —You move pieces and think yourselves clever. You forget—I do not forget. I remember defeat. I remember his face. That little demon with the stick—
The voice broke into pure venom.
—I will find him. I will tear him apart slowly. You are simply… the first reminder.—
The Abyssal army roared as one.
The Titan Gorilla drove its fists into the ground, sending a shockwave that cracked through the outermost line of knights. Several fell, armor splitting under invisible impact.
"Circle tightening!" someone shouted.
Seris' wind dome shrank by a meter.
They were being suffocated.
Inside the carriage, sweat dripped down Elzra's back.
Light runes glared so bright they hurt to look at. Spirit threads ran from her to every person inside the carriage, tugging at her consciousness, stretching her reserves.
Earth anchors locked onto a location far behind them—coordinates pinpointed through mental maps and training.
She could feel every impact outside through the floor.
"Mana load at… seventy-two percent," she muttered. "Need ninety. Anything less and we scatter like loose coins across the realm."
Something slammed into the wind dome outside. The entire carriage rocked.
A noble screamed.
Elzra's eyes snapped open in fury.
"I SAID BE QUIET!"
The scream cut off in a choked sob.
She closed her eyes again, teeth grinding.
"Just a little more," she hissed between her teeth. "I am Elzra Groblinheim. I am not failing a spell in front of a bunch of demon nobles. I don't care if an army is out there—I am not messing up my reputation."
Her magic surged in response to sheer, stubborn pride.
The runes brightened.
Eighty percent.
Eighty-five.
Outside, the line was breaking.
"RIGHT SIDE COLLAPSING!" a knight cried as three Fanglings surged through a gap, claws bared.
Gabe spun, blade flashing in a massive horizontal arc that cleaved through all three necks in one swing. He landed on one knee, breathing like his lungs were full of fire.
Seris threw wind knives at a Bladeback trying to divebomb the dome. The knives cut its eyes. It crashed into the ground, flailing.
Another Magilion volley fired.
Seris couldn't fully block it this time.
Flames slammed into the wind dome—
cracks spiderwebbed across the barrier—
heat flooded in—
Knights screamed as armor seared.
Seris screamed louder, forcing more mana up, blood pouring from her nose now.
"SERIS!" Gabe shouted.
"I'M FINE!" she yelled back, voice ragged. "JUST—KEEP—HITTING—THEM!"
Draen tried to push himself up. Pain lanced through his crushed leg. He tasted copper.
He knew they couldn't hold much longer.
His gaze flicked toward the VIP carriage.
"Princess," he whispered under his breath. "If you're going to save anyone… do it now."
Inside, Elzra's whole body shook.
Her vision blurred. Her heart pounded like it wanted out of her chest.
Ninety percent.
Ninety-five.
Ninety-nine—
She snapped her eyes open. "NOW!"
The runes flared, blinding.
Spirit threads yanked tight.
Every person in the carriage felt like the world dropped out from under them.
Outside, the light burst through the wood and metal like a miniature sunrise.
Seris gasped, feeling the sudden surge.
"Teleport—she's casting—!"
The Titan Gorilla roared, seeing the glow. It charged, fist rising.
The Magilions readied a focused volley.
The Bladebacks folded wings inward, trying to stab through the dome.
Gabe looked back at the carriage, then at the incoming wave.
He slammed his sword into the ground and screamed.
"IF YOU DIE, IT BETTER BE AFTER THEY GET OUT!"
He threw himself at the front line.
Seris collapsed to one knee, forcing one last wind wall up between the monsters and the carriage, knowing it wouldn't hold.
Draen lifted his katana with both hands, Dragon instincts burning one last time.
"MOVE!" he roared.
The Titan Gorilla brought its fist down again.
Feral Magilion's maw flared with abyssal light.
Bladebacks shrieked.
The teleport circle hit 100%.
Light swallowed the carriage.
Seris, closest to it, was pulled partly into the outer ring by residual spirit tether. Gabe felt a jolt in his chest as the spell snagged him too.
"—You have GOT to be kidding—"
The world snapped.
✦ The Split
Half the battlefield vanished in a burst of light.
The VIP carriage, Draen, Seris, Gabe, and roughly half of the still-standing knights blinked out of existence—teleporting away in a spiraling fractal of light and spirit threads.
The other half of the convoy—
Those outside the spell radius.
Those too far. Too slow. Too unlucky.
They were left behind.
For a moment, they just stared at the empty space where their comrades had been.
Then the Titan Gorilla's fist hit.
Crushing carriages like toys.
The Magilion brood released their full volley into the broken ground.
Bladebacks shredded survivors trying to run.
The Abyssal army howled.
The Abyssal Behemoth Dragon's presence pulsed with satisfaction.
—Run, little insects, it murmured into no one and everyone's minds at once. —Run and tell your kings. Tell them the Rift is awake. Tell them I remember. Tell them I'm coming for the boy with the stick.—
Smoke rose from the pass.
Blood soaked into cracked stone.
And miles away, light fell like a broken star on safer ground.
Draen hit earth and almost blacked out.
He lay on his back again, staring up at sky—different sky, different clouds—and for a second his brain couldn't process the change.
Then pain returned, full and brutal.
Seris lay beside him, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock and mana-burn. Gabe landed on his feet, then promptly fell to one knee, catching himself on his sword.
Around them, knights lay in a rough circle, groaning, cursing, or simply breathing hard.
The VIP carriage materialized half-intact, one wheel at a wrong angle, but not obliterated.
Inside the shattered door frame, Elzra Groblinheim stumbled once.
Her knees shook.
She grabbed the frame, nails biting into wood, and forced herself upright like nothing was wrong.
She lifted her chin.
"I… told you," she said, voice only slightly weaker than usual. "I don't fail."
Gabe looked up at her, chest still heaving.
"You…" he panted, "are the most… infuriatingly useful brat… I've ever met."
She sniffed. "You're welcome."
Her hands wouldn't stop trembling.
She hid them in her sleeves.
✦ Meanwhile — Asura's Warm-Up
Back in the village, the world was much smaller.
A tournament ring.
A crowd.
Dust kicking up under light footsteps.
Asura—still disguised as "Zen"—stood in the arena across from a teenage demon boy wielding a heavy spear. The boy was sweating bullets.
"How are you just standing there?" the boy demanded, breathing hard. "I hit you three times!"
Asura tilted his head. "You did?"
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : He did. You blocked all of them. Automatically. Please pretend to struggle a little. ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : No. Crush him. Mildly. We need data. ]
Asura scratched his cheek. "Ah. Sorry. I wasn't really paying attention."
The boy's eye twitched. "You—!"
He lunged, spear tip blazing with basic fire enhancement.
Asura stepped in.
One small movement.
He tilted his body just enough, a childlike simplicity to it—then flicked his foot lightly against the side of the spear shaft.
The weapon spun out of the boy's grip, twirling away.
The crowd gasped.
Asura flicked his wrist in a casual, almost lazy back-knuckle strike.
It tapped the boy's chest.
The boy flew backward like he'd been hit by a hammer, slammed into the barrier, and slid down with swirling eyes.
Silence.
Then roaring cheers.
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : …Impact measured at three percent of your base strength. Acceptable. Minimal bone damage. ... ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : You could have used fifteen. Blood is visually interesting. ]
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : NO IT IS NOT. ]
The announcer shouted something about "Zen!" and "mysterious dark horse!" and "advancing to the next bracket!"
Asura smiled faintly and waved once, feeling oddly warmed by the crowd's energy.
This really did feel like a warm-up.
He stepped out of the ring as the next match prepared.
For a heartbeat—just one—
his chest tightened.
Like something very far away had just… broken.
He paused.
"...Weird," he murmured.
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : …Host? Are you okay? Did something happen? Pain? Pressure? Mana disruption? ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : Hm. Interesting. Distant disturbance detected. Large-scale. Many deaths. Possibly related to that delightful SSS+ event. ]
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : You KNEW something happened!? ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : I said 'possibly.' I am not your alarm clock. ]
Asura frowned slightly, looking up at the sky over the village. It was still peaceful. Blue. Clouds lazy and soft.
"...Feels like someone got hurt," he said softly. "Far away."
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : …Large energy fluctuation detected at extreme range. Signature… partially familiar. But it's too distant to pinpoint. I-I'm sorry, Host. I can't give you more than that yet. ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : Do not worry. If it's important, it will arrive here eventually. One way or another. ]
Asura flexed his fingers.
He thought of the Abyssal Event warning.
Of the Behemoth's new dragon form.
Of his own promise to treat all this as a "warm-up."
He smiled.
It was smaller this time.
"...Then I'll be ready," he whispered.
The morning's next match was called.
The crowd cheered.
Far beyond that little stage, an army crawled across the world like a shadow.
And somewhere deep beneath everything, in the Rift's molten heart, a dragon seethed and planned.