The sky was wrong.
Fenrik Hayashi noticed it first—not because it turned red or cracked open like in legends, but because it stopped moving. Clouds hung frozen above the city, stretched thin like painted scars. Even the wind had gone silent.
This wasn't an invasion.
It was recognition.
The team stood in the center of an abandoned transit zone—concrete platforms, shattered rails, rusted signs still bearing names of places people once traveled to without fear.
Aoi swallowed. "Tell me you're feeling this too."
Taro Hyun didn't answer immediately. His Tiger Reaper Scythe trembled faintly, the blade emitting a low, warning hum. "Something just noticed us."
Eryx tightened the chain around his forearm. "That's not a scout reaction."
Fenrik planted the Wolf Slayer Axe into the ground. The weapon felt heavier than ever, like it was being pressed downward by an unseen hand. "No," he said quietly. "That's a ruler realizing its borders were crossed."
The temperature dropped.
Not cold—absence. Like heat itself had been removed.
Then the ground cracked.
A thin fracture split the concrete platform, spreading outward in a perfect circle. Black mist poured out—not smoke, not shadow, but something deeper, swallowing light instead of blocking it.
Aoi stepped back instinctively. "That's not a minion gate…"
The mist rose slowly, shaping itself, responding to a will.
Two crimson points ignited within it.
Eyes.
A presence stepped forward—not fully physical, not fully unreal. Tall. Cloaked in layered darkness that moved like breathing fabric. Horn-like ridges curved backward from its head, etched with faint symbols that burned and faded with every breath it took.
When it spoke, it didn't use sound.
It used pressure.
"So these are the ones disrupting the flow."
Fenrik felt the words inside his chest, not his ears. His knees bent slightly under the weight of it—but he did not kneel.
Taro took one step forward, scythe raised. "A devil."
The being tilted its head, almost amused.
"One of many."
The mist behind it expanded, forming a massive arch—an incomplete gateway. The realm beyond it flickered briefly: endless obsidian plains, crimson skies, towering silhouettes watching from afar.
Creldoster Realm's border trembled.
Aoi clenched her fists. "It's not fully crossing."
Eryx nodded slowly. "It doesn't need to."
The devil raised one clawed hand.
The ground behind Fenrik's team ruptured.
Six shapes clawed their way out—twisted humanoids wrapped in black armor fused directly into their bodies. Their faces were masked, smooth and featureless, with glowing red slits where mouths should be.
Minions.
Not shadows. Not spies.
Soldiers.
"Test them," the devil commanded calmly.
"I want to know which of you bleeds first."
The minions attacked instantly.
One lunged straight for Aoi.
Fenrik moved without thinking.
His axe roared.
The Wolf Slayer Axe cleaved downward, splitting the minion cleanly in half—but instead of falling, the body twisted, re-forming mid-air, stitching itself together with black veins.
"Regeneration!" Fenrik shouted.
Taro spun into motion, scythe carving a wide arc. "Then we don't let them recover!"
The Tiger Reaper Scythe glowed faintly as it struck, its blade tearing through armor and flesh alike. The cut didn't regenerate. The wound burned, spreading outward like a curse.
The minion shrieked.
Eryx snapped his chainblade forward, binding two enemies together before yanking them into Fenrik's path. Fenrik swung horizontally, crushing both into the ground with a shockwave that shattered concrete.
Aoi raised her hands, focusing. Energy pulsed outward, forming precise barriers that redirected incoming strikes rather than blocking them outright.
They were holding their own.
The devil watched silently.
No anger. No excitement.
Only calculation.
"Interesting," it murmured.
"The axe responds faster than predicted."
Fenrik felt it.
The Wolf Slayer Axe vibrated violently, responding to the devil's presence like a beast sensing a natural predator.
Taro gritted his teeth as three minions surrounded him. He leapt backward, scythe spinning defensively. "Fenrik—these aren't meant to kill us."
Eryx sliced through a minion's neck. "They're measuring."
Exactly then, the devil stepped forward—just one pace.
The pressure tripled.
Fenrik felt blood drip from his nose.
"Enough data."
The devil snapped its fingers.
The remaining minions retreated instantly, dissolving back into the mist like obedient tools. The battlefield fell silent once more—cracked ground, scorched air, shattered concrete bearing the marks of their struggle.
Aoi panted. "It's… stopping?"
Taro stared at the devil. "Why pull them back?"
The devil's eyes locked onto Fenrik.
"Because the wolf does not die today."
Fenrik's heart pounded.
"Nor the tiger," the devil added, glancing briefly at Taro.
"Not yet."
The gateway behind it began to collapse inward.
"Grow stronger," the devil said calmly.
"Sharpen your weapons. Gather your courage."
The mist started to fade.
"Next time," it whispered, its voice echoing directly into Fenrik's mind,
"I will not send minions."
The gateway sealed.
The sky moved again.
Wind returned.
Silence broke.
Aoi dropped to one knee, breathing hard. "That was… a devil."
Eryx wiped sweat from his brow. "And it didn't even cross over fully."
Taro lowered his scythe slowly. "It knew us."
Fenrik stared at the spot where the devil had stood.
Not fear burned in his chest.
Resolve did.
"It didn't come to end us," Fenrik said quietly. "It came to confirm we exist."
He lifted the Wolf Slayer Axe. The weapon pulsed once—steady, controlled.
"Which means," he continued, eyes hardening, "we're officially part of the war now."
Far away, in a realm drenched in crimson light, something ancient smiled.
The hunt had begun.