✦ Demon Realm Village — Tournament Arena
The late-afternoon sun dipped lower, painting the arena in reddish gold. Cheers rolled across the square like waves. The tournament brackets had narrowed—less than twenty competitors remained—each one bruised, sweating, and proud of themselves.
Asura—currently "Zen"—barely looked winded.
He sat on a wooden bench on the competitor side of the arena, feet swinging casually like this was recess instead of a combat event. He nibbled something that might've been a crispy fried mana-bug. He wasn't sure. It tasted good anyway.
"Next round will begin in ten minutes!" the announcer shouted.
Asura smiled absently, staring at nothing.
Something felt weird.
Not here. Not now. Just… somewhere.
Like a ripple far beneath the world.
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : Host… your heart rate spiked. Are you feeling unwell? Is something happening? Should I scan your vitals again? ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : Something is happening. Somewhere. Fascinatingly vague. I encourage continued observation. ]
Asura blinked slowly.
"…Something's coming."
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : …from where? ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : The Abyss, probably. Or dinner. Hard to tell until it arrives. ]
Asura puffed air from his cheeks. "You two aren't helping."
✦ Streets of the Village
Meanwhile—
Rhazor and Lucilla sprinted down a crowded merchant lane, eyes darting through clusters of travelers, pilgrims, adventurers, and rowdy spectators.
"He has to be close," Rhazor muttered, short of breath. "The tournament is drawing crowds—he likes crowds."
Lucilla kept scanning. "He likes trouble. Crowds are just a delivery system for trouble."
Rhazor opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. "…Okay, fair."
They skidded around a corner toward the tournament grounds—and ran straight into the three young S-rank adventurers again.
All three posed dramatically—on purpose. Capes fluttering. Weapons perfect. Hair glistening from meticulous styling.
The tallest one smirked. "Oh look. The undercover amateurs again."
Lucilla didn't even slow down.
"Not today," she said, walking past them like they were background scenery.
The second adventurer scoffed. "Excuse you—do you know who we are?"
Rhazor grabbed Lucilla's arm. "Lucilla—maybe don't— I mean, we don't need—"
Lucilla yanked her arm free and kept walking.
The tallest adventurer pointed dramatically after her.
"Hey! We're S-rank! Royal-level quest clearers!"
Lucilla raised a hand without turning. "Congratulations. Don't trip over yourselves."
Rhazor half-bowed awkwardly. "Sorry about her—she doesn't like people."
The third adventurer blinked. "Are you two… looking for someone?"
Rhazor pointed to the arena entrance. "Eight-year-old demon child. White hair. Golden eyes. Definitely causing chaos."
The three adventurers frowned.
"There are no children allowed in this tournament."
Lucilla and Rhazor shared a look.
Lucilla sighed. "Then he's here."
Rhazor nodded grimly. "Yep."
They ran forward.
The adventurers stared after them, confused.
"…That kid's either dead or terrifying," one muttered.
✦ Arena — Competitor Entrance
Asura had just finished stretching when he felt two intense stares burning into the back of his head.
He froze.
Slowly turned.
Rhazor and Lucilla stood ten steps behind him.
Lucilla squinted at him.
Rhazor whispered, "That's him."
"That's definitely him," Lucilla agreed.
Asura blinked innocently.
"I am totally Zen. A normal slightly-older demon."
Rhazor pointed accusingly. "The way you said that was extremely Asura."
Lucilla narrowed eyes. "…Your posture is exactly the same. And you bounce before fights. And you're eating something weird again."
He looked at the bug-stick in his hand. "…It's tasty."
Lucilla rubbed her forehead. "Asura. Get off the field. Now. We're supposed to be undercover."
Asura gave a polite bow. "Zen appreciates your concern, citizens."
Rhazor groaned. "You're not even trying anymore!"
Lucilla glanced around—the crowd was watching them talk—
she leaned close, whisper-yelling:
"You cannot be in a public tournament right now! What if someone recognizes you!?"
Asura blinked innocently. "No one has. Except you."
Lucilla froze.
Rhazor froze.
She hated that he was right.
Rhazor sighed, exhausted. "We can't stop him, can we?"
Lucilla crossed her arms. "Fine. But we're watching. Don't embarrass us."
Asura smiled softly. "I won't."
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : I will be monitoring this situation VERY closely. ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : Yes, yes. Parental supervision is adorable. Let the boy fight. ]
Lucilla and Rhazor exchanged a glance… then reluctantly found seats among the spectators.
Rhazor muttered, "We're terrible guardians."
Lucilla muttered back, "We're realistic ones."
✦ Arena — Next Round
A muscular teenage demon stepped into the ring, spear aglow with wind-infused mana. He smirked.
"You're the little prodigy everyone's talking about?"
Asura tilted his head. "Zen. Nice to meet you."
The boy twirled the spear. "Hope you're ready. I don't hold back."
Asura smiled faintly. "Me neither."
The referee signaled.
"Begin!"
The opponent lunged instantly, spear thrusting forward with impressive speed—but Asura slid aside, fast but effortless, eyes half-lidded like he was bored.
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : Watch the angle—he reinforced his right shoulder—he's going to feint then sweep—! ]
Asura counter-stepped before the sweep even happened.
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : Excellent. Prediction based on subtle mana variance. You are learning. Try attacking a nerve cluster next. For science. ]
Asura flicked his fingers against the spear shaft—neither magic nor technique, just perfect timing.
The weapon flew out of the boy's hands again.
Rhazor facepalmed.
Lucilla whispered, "Why does he always fight like a smug Headmaster trapped inside a child?"
Rhazor whispered back, "Because he kind of is."
The opponent stumbled backward. "You—let me hit you at least once!"
Asura blinked. "Why?"
He stepped forward and tapped the boy's chest with one finger.
The boy collapsed like someone unplugged his legs.
The crowd roared.
Asura bowed politely.
✦ Meanwhile — Far beyond the village
Draen woke again for a moment—shoulders shaking, breath ragged. Gabe crouched beside him, half-covered in dried blood, sword resting on the ground nearby. Seris leaned against a tree, eyes closed, mana-burn visible as faint blue marks across her skin.
Around them, surviving knights tended to injuries, trying to secure a makeshift camp in unfamiliar terrain. Smoke rose from hastily built mana fires.
Elzra sat on a conjured chair made of earth like a queen in exile, eating grapes she made someone find for her.
"This is intolerable," she muttered. "I saved your lives. Someone bring me tea. A good kind."
No one responded. Everyone barely had enough energy to breathe.
Gabe muttered under his breath, "I'm gonna lose it."
Seris exhaled slowly. "Let her complain. If she thinks she's in control, she'll keep the spell stable if we need it again."
Elzra tossed her hair. "You're welcome."
Wind shifted.
Subtle.
Wrong direction.
Cold despite no clouds.
Draen forced his eyes open, pupils narrowing.
"…It's moving," he rasped.
Seris blinked. "The Abyssal forces?"
Draen swallowed blood. "Not just them. The Rift. Something in it is… turning. Position changing. Following a trail."
Gabe frowned. "Trail of what?"
Draen's voice was low.
"Royal blood."
Seris stared at him.
Gabe looked around.
Elzra froze mid-bite.
"It's tracking us?" she asked, voice dropping half an octave.
"No," Draen said quietly. "It's tracking someone else. We're just in the way."
Elzra's brow furrowed. "…who?"
Gabe inhaled sharply. "I wish we knew—"
Seris felt her heart drop.
Asura stepped forward as his name—well, "Zen"—was called for the semi-final round.
The sun dipped lower behind the village roofs, casting long shadows over the arena. Dust hung thick in the air, glowing like embers. Cheers echoed from every side.
A distant rumble rolled across the valley.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
Just enough to vibrate stone ever so slightly.
Most people ignored it.
Asura didn't.
He looked toward the horizon.
"…What was that?" he murmured.
[ ＳＹＳＴＥＭ : …Alert: extremely distant mana surge detected at the edge of system range. Source unknown. Resonance… faintly Abyssal. I can't get more detail—sorry… ]
[ ＡＥＴＨＥＲＢＯＲＮ : How exciting. The darkness approaches. Continue your warm-up. ]
Asura took a slow breath.
He didn't feel scared.
He felt ready.
"Warm-up, huh…" he whispered.
Lucilla leaned forward from the stands. "…He's too calm."
Rhazor squinted. "He always gets like that right before something huge happens."
Lucilla missed half a heartbeat. "Wait—what do you mean before something huge—"
Rhazor scratched his chin. "Oh look. He's about to win again."
Lucilla smacked his arm.
The arena roared.
Somewhere far beyond that cheering crowd, an Abyssal army marched across the world like a storm front.
The Abyssal Behemoth Dragon stirred in its lair, sensing the distant flicker of the one that humiliated it.
And miles away, a battered convoy slowly limped toward the nearest settlement—
—straight toward the village where Asura stood smiling at sunset, believing this was just the warm-up before the real battle.