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Few minutes ago:-
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Far from where the Allens were still locked in combat with the demon, a group of hunters had just completed their mission—wiping out a nest of cultists and a B-rank demon with nothing more than ten C-rank hunters.
"Captain! We just received a distress signal!" one of the hunters shouted, sprinting across the wasteland littered with corpses and shattered relics. His dark-blue leather armor was splattered with blood as he approached a man sitting atop a boulder of ice, where a black-eyed corpse lay frozen within.
"From where?" Tom asked, glancing up from his sniper rifle as he cleaned it with steady, practiced hands.
"It's the Allens, sir! They aren't far, but the signal's weak—too weak to have reached anyone else. They're... they're fighting an A-rank demon."
"What?" Tom froze, the calmness in his expression giving way to disbelief.
"The others are exhausted after the battle," the hunter continued, his voice heavy. "Even if we go, we can only delay the inevitable for a few minutes. We should report this to the teachers before it's too late."
Tom was silent for a long moment before he finally stood atop the icy boulder, his gaze fixed on the burning horizon. "By the time one of us reaches the teachers they would be long dead...Gather everyone and return to Paragon," he ordered quietly. "I'll go support them."
"Sir! That's suicide! You won't last an hour against an A-rank demon!" the hunter protested, desperation creeping into his voice.
Tom slid the sniper rifle into his utility belt and looked back, a faint smile forming beneath his shadowed expression.
"Be that as it may... I won't give up on them."
Then, in a voice low enough that only the wind could hear, he whispered—
"I won't give up on my only friend."
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Present Time
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From within the infernal storm—where the wasteland had become a sea of fire and ash—a massive serpent, woven from blackened strings and roaring hellfire, surged toward Reinhardt and Johnathan. Its maw, large enough to swallow them whole, devoured everything in its path.
Then—a gust of wind.
It sliced past their ears. And when they turned around, the serpent that burned with hellfire was no longer moving.
It stood frozen mid-lunge, transformed into a monstrous ice sculpture—its jagged fangs mere inches from grazing their skin.
"What?! The reinforcements are already here?!" the demon snarled, scanning the battlefield in confusion.
But no one was there. The wasteland was silent—save for the cracking frost spreading through the serpent's frozen hide. Even the green cocoon hadn't shifted an inch.
Another gust tore through the air.
Before the demon could react, a bullet of condensed ice pierced through the storm and struck his eye.
"ARGH!" he screamed, as the freezing curse spread instantly, coating his face in solid ice.
In a desperate frenzy, he unleashed his hellfire, immolating his own vessel to thaw himself free. The infernal flames melted the frost and wrapped around his body like armor—an armor that seared his skin with every second it stayed.
"That armor won't save you!" a voice roared.
The demon looked up just in time to see Johnathan dropping from an inverted pool of ink hanging in midair. With a savage snarl, the werewolf slammed onto him, claws digging deep into the molten flesh of the demon's shoulders.
Johnathan screamed into the demon's face—a guttural roar that made the air tremble—as both of them plummeted toward the ground.
"You should know that such screams can't extinguish my hellfire," the demon laughed, his charred face twisting into a manic grin as they plummeted through the air.
"Oh, I know…" Johnathan smirked, blood and ash smeared across his fangs. "But that will."
With a sudden burst of strength, he kicked off the demon's chest, propelling himself backward mid-air just as the demon reached out to grab him.
Below them, the air rippled—then darkened.
A pool of ink spread open beneath the falling demon, like the maw of some cosmic abyss.
"NOOOO!" The demon's voice cracked through the storm as realization struck. He thrashed, summoning his strings in desperation, but they only tangled around him, dragging him faster toward the ink.
The pool swallowed him whole, sealing shut the moment his body disappeared beneath its surface.
Silence followed—unnatural and heavy—as if the world itself was holding its breath.
As Johnathan landed, the ground cracked beneath his feet. A second pool of ink rippled open beside him, and Reinhardt rose out of it—dripping black liquid that steamed on contact with the scorched earth.
"Well," Reinhardt exhaled, his voice low and gravelly, "let's hope that thing at least takes care of the baby voidspawn before it gets eaten by the adults…"
Johnathan let out a tired laugh, his fangs glinting under the dim, infernal light. "Nah, I'm willing to bet he won't even last that long. He was too weak for an A rank anyway."
"What are you two doing?!" a voice shouted from across the battlefield.
They turned to see Tom sprinting toward them, kicking up ash and debris in his wake.
"Oh hey! You're the one who helped us—thanks, buddy!" Johnathan called out, waving casually as if they hadn't just sent a demon into a dimensional pit.
Tom's expression twisted between disbelief and fury. "Even if he was weak, you shouldn't have trapped him in the Void, you idiots! An A-rank demon is still an A-rank demon! The spatial laws in there don't work like ours—he could re-emerge anywhere!"
He finally skidded to a halt before them, his breath ragged, eyes darting around for any sign of movement.
However, even after several minutes of silence, there were no signs of the demon.
"As I was saying, I had a voidspawn problem. At this point, he might even be—" Before Reinhardt could finish, an inverted pool of ink rippled into existence above them, swallowing the last rays of the sun.
The air turned heavy. Every breath felt like drawing smoke through water.
"...If that's a joke, it isn't very funny... Dude, close the portal!" Johnathan shouted, voice trembling beneath the pressure that pressed on their chests.
"I didn't even open it! How would I close it?!" Reinhardt snapped back, panic rising in his throat as his words wavered.
"Both of you, shut up! Protect Ray—I'll handle this!" Tom barked, snapping his rifle up and aiming toward the portal.
But what emerged wasn't a demon inside a human vessel anymore.
It was something far worse—something that didn't belong to a world with gravity or air or reason.
Several tentacles exploded outward, dripping with ink and molten voidlight. The air itself screamed as the things thrashed, twisting space around them until even the ground began to tremble.
"By the Emperor... that's a voidspawn! Close your eyes!" Reinhardt roared, and both Tom and Johnathan obeyed instantly.
Unlike Reinhardt—whose demonic soul allowed him to withstand the creature's corruption—the others would be devoured by its presence alone. The mind wasn't meant to perceive what had no beginning or end.
"How did a voidspawn suddenly breach the mortal plane?" Tom asked, fumbling for a strip of cloth and tying it over his eyes, his voice barely holding steady.
"From what I can tell," Reinhardt said grimly, eyes locked on the writhing chaos above them, "the demon must've taken over the young voidspawn wandering near the edge of the void. I didn't even know an A-rank demon could do that."
The tentacles tore the portal open wider, expanding until it blotted out the sky entirely. The wasteland dimmed beneath its shadow, the world itself bending as if struggling to reject what was emerging.
And still, the voidspawn's appendages twisted and writhed—like it was laughing at the fragile little realm it had found.