4th Day of 1st Fire Cycle[1], 2000 g.c.
The late noon azure sun hovered lazily above Talasi, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled path that curved toward the village gates. Outside the town's entrance, where the stone met soil, Kimmi stood with a watering pot shaped like a crescent moon, humming an old song she learned from Mom. Her voice lifted gently into the air like a lullaby you didn't realize you missed until it reached your ears. The breeze was warm but sleepy, carrying the familiar scent of soil and mana-saturated flowers that grew only in that region. She tilted the pot with practiced grace, sending a stream of glimmering water arcing over the bush of Blue Roses that lined the edge of Talasi's main path.
These weren't just any roses—they shimmered faintly even in daylight, their petals made of a crystalline structure that refracted the sun in fractured sapphire hues. Each bloom held a faint mana signature of Water and Yang Affinity, and the closer you got, the more the scent could ease tension in your chest like a whispered apology from the universe. Kimmi had planted them herself as a little girl, carefully coaxing them into existence with her own mana, piece by piece. She never asked for help. That flower bed had always been her secret mission—to make sure the first thing you saw and smelled when you arrived in Talasi made you feel like the hardship you endured to get there had been worth it.
Even now, she was still tending to them like that same little girl. But Kimmi wasn't a little girl anymore.
She stood taller than before—five-foot-five, the same as Steez and Alex now—but her silhouette carved a different shape. She had grown into herself in a way that made her seem... finished. Not just older. Evolved. Her frame was curvier, feminine in the kind of way that didn't have to try. Her fitted armor hugged her form like a second skin.
Enchanted black under-armor trimmed with cerulean, peeking out beneath a sleeveless battle-top woven from voidsilk and starlite, materials known to reject all impurities and still shine under any light. A single silver ring encircled her waist like it crowned her center. Her knee-high boots glinted with etched runes, the soles light enough to make no sound against gravel. Thin black gloves with blue trims climbed up her arms, flexing slightly every time she adjusted her grip on the watering pot.
Her long, sandy-red hair was braided down her back, that familiar ponytail swinging with each movement as she whistled a tune I hadn't heard in a while. A little catchy, a little corny. Something Mom used to hum when she cleaned.
But what made her truly different—what made the air feel thinner around her now—wasn't how she looked.
Kimmi-Wu had become a Celestial Transcendent, just like Mom.
Except where most transcendent trained their bodies for war, Kimmi had no such hunger. She didn't crave battle or recognition. She didn't flex her power like a banner—she tucked it behind flower beds and soft melodies. And that's what made her dangerous. Stupid dangerous. Because even though she'd been bumped into the lower ranks of the S-Class tier, you'd never see it coming until your face was bleeding on the floor.
It was I, technically, who sparked the shift. When I sent my Soul Essence through the Crest of the Wolfpak, Kimmi was gifted a Pure Lord Seed without ever having to walk into the Labyrinth herself. Normally, Soul Essence without an anchor causes chaos. Just look at Artamis—his transformation into a half-Majin was the result of Nihility gnawing at the edges of his soul. But Kimmi-Wu? She was untouched. She was immune. That's because of her Vessel Skill—[Sun Sage: Amaterasu]. One of the rarest abilities we've ever seen.
With it, Kimmi could tap into any mana type she desired. Fire, Ice, Yin, Lightning, and even more obscure ones like Metal or Angel. Hell, she could probably reach into Omnis Mana—the raw, undivided force of creation energy—and weave it like string. Not only that, her Soul Core had been purified. Absolute-level purity. Untouchable. That meant no corruption, no soul decay, no demonic poisoning, no influence from foreign energies. No matter what situation she walked into, Kimmi remained... Kimmi.
And still, she didn't fight. Not because she couldn't. Because she didn't want to. And if you ever pushed her far enough to make her want to? May the gods bless your afterlife.
What threw the whole family off wasn't just her growth—it was how she grew. That Pure Lord Seed had shown up out of nowhere. No warning. No ritual. It just was. They were all scratching their heads, trying to figure it out. But Mom wasn't worried. She took it as a good omen. She remembered the twin bond Kimmi shared with Artamis—the way their souls were linked since the womb. She believed Kimmi's growth was connected to whatever Artamis was doing inside the Labyrinth at the time.
"I think your brothers carved the path," she told them, "and Kimmi just found the light to walk it."
Funny thing is... she made it look effortless.
And in that moment, standing outside Talasi's gates with sunlight clinging to her armor and a garden of mana-bloomed roses at her feet, Kimmi looked like what many secretly wanted to be—strong, serene, and whole.
The town of Talasi breathed calmly under the waning noon sun, its outer walls glowing warm in the light of the pale azure sky. The usual buzz of town life softened this deep into the Janell Forest, replaced by the gentle hum of wind rustling leaves and the low babble of streamlets weaving through the wood. Just beyond the gates, a lone figure sat leaning back in his creaky chair—helmet drooped low to shade his face, chin resting on his chest, arms limp. The gate guard, like most of his clan brothers, had grown used to slow days and uneventful shifts. Ever since the Great Earthquake five month-cycles prior, the beasts of the forest had gone eerily quiet, and the Mana flow in the area had settled to a tranquil pulse. No monstrous signatures, no rogue spirits, no bloodied run-ins.
But the real highlight of the day was her for those poor, bored guards.
Kimmi stood before the gates with a large metal watering can, humming a sweet melody as she gently waved her hand over the bush. She always took her time with it. This wasn't a chore to her; it was a sacred ritual.
"They are always so pretty this time of year," she whispered to herself, her voice just as soft as the water she conjured.
A familiar voice broke the peace.
"Hey there, Niece! What are you up to?"
She turned just in time to see a crimson blur sweep out from the half-open magisteel gate. Shukaku, her uncle and Alex's father, strolled toward her with that typical lopsided smile tugging at his bearded face. His scarlet wings—partially folded—rustled in the breeze behind him, and his thick bushy tail waved anxiously as if it couldn't keep secrets the way he could. One hand was tucked behind his back. That never meant anything subtle.
"Oh, hey. Welcome back, Unk," Kimmi grinned. "I'm just watering the flowers for the day."
"I heard from your Aunt that three days ago was your birthday."
She blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Yeah, it was."
"Alex's was four. And while he's not here," Shukaku said, stepping closer, "I can give a gift to one of you two. Happy womb escape day, Niece!"
He dramatically swung his arm out from behind his back, revealing a beautifully carved gardener's pot made entirely of interlocked Mana Crystals—each one etched with swirling runes and softly glowing from within, as if holding whispers of spells never spoken. It was not only rare, it was stunning.
Kimmi's jaw dropped. Her solid golden eyes flared with astonished joy, the light from the pot dancing in her irises like sunrise across a calm lake. She took a step forward, then another, until she snatched the gift and clutched it tightly against her chest.
"Woah, is that mine? Thank you, Uncle Shukaku!"
"Ahh, it's no problem. I happened to run across it and couldn't come back without it. I hope you enjoy its use."
"Of course! I'm going to go take it to the house right now!"
Her words came out in a rush as she spun and dashed toward the gate, the Mana Crystal pot secure in her arms. Her long sandy-red braid fluttered behind her like a banner of joy, and for a moment, she was the personification of happiness. Shukaku watched her disappear into the town, his expression softening with a rare tenderness.
"First time I've seen her smile in days. I hope the boys make it back in time to see it." His voice dropped low. He turned his gaze to the sky. "Your mother is worried to death about you, Alexander."
But the moment shattered like glass. And then the peace cracked.
A voice cut through the air, oily and cruel.
"Ahh, but look at zis... I do believe zose dark red wings belong to zat foolish boy Alex's papa, non?"
Another followed, soft, light, and cold as frost.
"So, is he an enemy?"
"I do not like anyone tied to zees Mikazuki. So—oui, he is an enemy."
Shukaku furrowed his brow, twisting in the direction of the voices. "What? Who is th—?"
He didn't get to finish.
There was no sound. No warning. Just a sudden burst of magic that made the very air around his throat shimmer and distort like hot oil in a skillet. A curse circle—written in blood-red glyphs—flared to life around his neck, burning itself into visibility for a split second before triggering.
Then came the sound.
A wet pop.
Not loud, not dramatic—just a sickening pop, like stepping on a soaked melon.
His blood flash-boiled inside his skull, building pressure faster than any living tissue could contain. In a blink, his eyes bulged, his veins glowed, and then boom—everything above the shoulders was reduced to a red mist that sprayed in every direction. It imploded. Shukaku's head exploded.
The sleeping guard was jolted awake, gasping just in time to get a faceful of blood. His scream died in his throat as the gore soaked his armor, staining it deep crimson. Shukaku's body stood for a beat longer, blood spurting from the neck stump like a cursed fountain before it finally tipped backward and crashed to the dirt with a splat. Bloody red feathers were scattered across the path. His wings twitched once. Then, stillness.
The Blue Roses, once kissed by Water Mana, were now drenched in blood.
Shukaku Zo—Father of Alex. Husband of Glynis. Clan Brother. A protector and family member was gone.
Murdered before he could even raise a hand in defense. Before he ever saw his killer's face.
The gate guard scrambled to his feet, slipping in the gore beneath him. Blood smeared his face and blurred his vision, panic drowning his thoughts. The cackling—that awful, feminine cackling—echoed like a hymn of madness.
It rang out in the air like a wicked melody, feminine and mocking, echoing against the stone walls of the outpost. The Blood Witch stood with one arm draped at her side, the other toying with her mana-soaked finger like a brush dipped in paint. Her eyes gleamed.
"Impressive," Beau said coolly, stepping forward without a single drop of blood on him, voice slick like warm butter over fine bread. "Can you do zhat to ze Demon Lord?"
Kiranna didn't look at him when she replied. "I doubt it. Godwalkers are far stronger than whoever that was."
The gate guard, still trembling, finally found his footing, spear shaking in both hands as he raised it with false bravado. "St-stop right there, you four!"
His breath caught as he looked down. Shukaku's headless corpse bled out into a crimson pond, the steam of his fading life curling into the air. The guard's mouth fell open as he tracked the blood-soaked feathers and the ruined body. His gaze lifted, locking on Beau. His brows pinched in confusion.
"You of the Soleil... did you attack this man?"
"Uh oh," Kiranna sang, dragging a finger through the blood on her cheek. "Seems we woke him."
Beau tilted his head with lazy disdain, not even acknowledging the guard's question. "Leave no witnesses," he said smoothly. "If ze devil—Xiro—is truly not 'ere, zen we do not want him figuring out who before we are ready to deal with 'im."
Kiranna's smile sharpened like a butcher's blade. It was as if she'd just been waiting for those words. She turned toward the guard, her index finger flicking up almost playfully. His body snapped to attention.
The sound that followed wasn't a scream—it was a bone-snapping crunch that filled the silence like a falling tree. The guard's limbs twisted unnaturally, back arching as his spine snapped with a sickening pop. Blood erupted from his mouth, ears, and nostrils in horrific unison. His eyes rolled back, lips flapping in a desperate cry that never left his throat.
The blood in his body didn't just escape—it obeyed. It flowed out in thick ropes, as if it had a will, a master. It danced around Kiranna's fingertips, coalescing into a swirling pool that claimed the guard's final breath as he collapsed into it like a marionette with its strings cut.
Abdul shivered. "Each time I see her V-Skill in action, I get chills."
Kiranna blew him a kiss. "Aww, do you like my [Red Water: Bloody Mary]?"
"It's a scary ability," he admitted, eyes on the spreading puddle.
The blood settled. A strange, awkward silence followed.
"It's an okay ability," Yoona chimed in dryly. "I still prefer Lord Beau's Vessel Skill."
Kiranna rolled her eyes—then, the pettiness. "I bet you do, girl. As much as you stay suckin' his dick, I'm sure you prefer anything involving him."
"You sound jealous. If you ask nicely, I'm sure Lord Beau would let you kiss the tip."
"Ladies," Beau interrupted with a long exhale, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Focus, s'il vous plaît. We 'ave a Demon Lord title to claim."
"We should hurry," Abdul said, scanning the road. "There's no telling who that scream may have alerted."
But he was already too late.
Glynis had felt it. The sudden extinguishing of Shukaku's mana signature hit her like a knife in the gut. She rushed from within the town, boots slapping against stone and mud, arriving breathless.
Her scream split the air as she dropped to her knees. She didn't even look at Kiranna or the others—her world had shrunk to the headless corpse in her arms. Shukaku's blood stained her hands, soaked through her light blue dress, painting her grief across the front of her body. She cradled his body, her hands shaking.
"You promised you wouldn't fight alone again," she thought. Her sobs broke something in the silence.
Kiranna tilted her head, studying the stranger. "Who is that? Her signature feels pretty tough."
Beau's tone was suddenly more alert. "Zhat is ze Demon Lord's sister. We may need to take her as a hostage. Do 'er the way you did ze Wolven mutt."
Kiranna cracked her knuckles, licking her lips. "Cool. I can do that."
But fate had other plans.
Glynis's cries turned to sharp, guttural wails as heat shimmered off her skin. Her vessel skill [Flame King: Kōjin] activated as mana ignited around her like a wildfire. Flames of gold and crimson surged into existence, surrounding her in a corona of raw emotional energy. The air distorted, bending around her grief like a sun caught in mourning. Even from a distance, they could feel the pull of it through the echo of her pain.
Beau and the others stepped back as the temperature spiked.
"She is tough," Abdul said, shielding his eyes from the light.
"That's a Godwalker," Yoona muttered, awe slipping into her voice. "You can feel the difference in the mana."
Kiranna, unimpressed, scoffed. "You guys should still be stronger. She doesn't feel higher than B-Class."
"Oui," Beau agreed, eyes narrowing. "Even as a Mythwalker, two A-Class should still 'old an advantage."
While they debated, Glynis slowly placed Shukaku's body down and stood, her hands shaking, blood trailing down her arms. Her eyes were red and hollow, but focused.
"…Why?"
Kiranna blinked. "Is she talking to us? What did you say, girlfriend?"
Glynis's voice cracked. "Why... why did you kill him?"
Kiranna glanced around, shrugged at the gore on the ground. "Who cares. He was just a man. I'll do it again to another, if you like."
That was all she needed.
Glynis's expression didn't shift. It settled. The need for revenge solidified her.
"Give birth to the morning light," she whispered. "[Spirit Weapon: Aurora]."
In her hand, spiritons twisted into a shaft of glowing azure and white. The air trembled. A sound like wind chimes and shattering glass rang out as light spiraled around her hand. Spiritons converged, forming a bo-staff of celestial fury, edges glimmering with holy radiance. At each end, butterflies with sun and moon designs flared to life, elegant and wrathful.
She spun it gracefully, channeling rage through poise—an avenger dressed in fire and grief. The staff hummed like a war hymn. With no warning, the bo-staff telescoped out, stretching like a lance of divine retribution. It slammed into Kiranna's stomach, launching her into a tree with bone-jarring force.
"Let's do it, Yoona! Break her mind first," Abdul roared.
"Ready!" She replied.
Beau sighed. "Seems we may 'ave more than one problem now."
Yoona stretched out her arm. A soft pink glow emerged around her, and then Glynis's aura began to quiver. Her expression faltered. Yoona's V-Skill—[Ethereal Muse: Jang Nok-su]—triggered [Emotional Influence], flooding Glynis with overwhelming joy.
It was unnatural. Her body trembled as laughter burst from her lips, mixing with tears. Her defenses fell, her aura vanished.
Abdul struck fast. Earth Mana surged around his arm, coating his fist in layers of compressed dirt and hardened stone. He dashed in, uppercutting her stomach and snapping her out of the euphoria with searing pain. Before she could fall, he followed with a wide right hook that cracked her across the face and sent her slamming into the ground.
A crater exploded beneath her. Debris flew, dirt, rose petals, and blue flora vaporized in a shockwave. The field of blue roses became dust.
Kiranna peeled herself from the tree, bruised but grinning. Her cloak fluttered away with a breeze, revealing her tight lime green leather skirt and matching breastplate. Her deep scarlet body glistened with Bio Mana as she adjusted her silver glasses.
"That was cute," she purred. "But now it's time I show her real pain."
Abdul stepped back.
Kiranna walked forward, seduction and menace in every sway of her hips. Her aura flared again. Her V-Skill took hold the moment she touched Glynis. With a subtle twist of her hands, Glynis's arms bent and cracked, bones snapping under the control of the Imp's blood manipulation. Glynis shrieked in agony, eyes wide with fresh pain.
"Don't worry, hunnie," Kiranna whispered. "I'm going to play with you a bit... before I let you meet your man in the Spirit Realm."
The problem with being too confident on Gaia, especially if you were one of the powerful ones, was that you tended to overlook the quiet signals. The small shifts. The kinds of shifts that could save your life... or spell your death. You see, when Aunt Glynis's mana signature spiked sharply and then dropped like a broken note off a cliff, it wasn't just strange—it was a silent scream. A message that something was wrong. And her sister? Vericka? Oh, she heard that silent scream loud and clear. She always kept track of the family's signatures, especially when they were in town. It was second nature. The way a mother listens for a baby's cry, or a soldier hears the click of a trigger before the bullet flies.
So when that signature glitched, Vericka was already on her way. She didn't walk. She didn't fly. With [Lover's Rock: By Your Side], she arrived—like a gust of divine retribution riding on a current of fury and wind-borne mana.
Kiranna, on the other hand, was all smiles and sharp edges, ready to puppet Glynis's limp body like some twisted marionette. Her fingers twitched with anticipation, shadowy threads of Blood Mana coiling like serpents. But just as her hands hovered over Glynis's chest—
CRACK!
A boot slammed full-force into Kiranna's face, flipping her backwards like a ragdoll. She didn't even see it coming. Her body snapped sideways, head jerking back with a pop of whiplash, and she crashed into Abdul. The force knocked the wind outta both of 'em, launching them like bowling pins right into Beau, who didn't dodge in time.
The three of them hit the dirt in a tangle of limbs, dust clouding the air around them.
Vericka stood where Kiranna had just been, mana dripping off her in visible threads of gold and deep green. Her eyes were wild. Not glowing—smoking. Trails of mana leaked from her tear ducts and lashes like incense curling off a pyre. She didn't say a damn thing at first. She just dropped to her knees beside Glynis, her hands trembling, barely holding the shape of the seal as golden light pulsed beneath her palms.
"Yang Mana Arts: Greater Heal…" she whispered, her voice cracking through gritted teeth.
The golden aura pulsed over Glynis's arms, knitting fractured bone back together and soaking into bruised skin. Glynis gasped softly, a whimper escaping her lips, but she didn't move much. Her bruised face looked like it had forgotten how to feel anything but despair. Her mouth hung open just a little, eyes blank, tears sliding sideways into her hair.
"Stay with me, Glynis. Stay with me, girl."
Glynis blinked. Her eyes finally focused, locking onto her little sister.
"Vee…" her voice barely a whisper. "He's dead. They killed him for no reason, Vee."
Vericka froze. Her fingers trembled mid-spell.
"They killed him?" Her words were hollow. Then, like a puzzle piece snapping into place, she turned.
There, just off to her left, half-covered in broken tile and dust, was Shukaku's body. Still. Quiet. Gone.
She didn't cry. Not yet. But her breath hitched, and the world seemed to slow around her, everything muffled under the weight of Glynis's grief now echoing inside her too.
Beau stood up, brushing himself off, eyes narrowed as he stared across the space.
"She's finally 'ere," he muttered, adjusting his hat. "Zee Demon Lord 'as appeared."
The dust settled. Kiranna, Abdul, and Yoona were already pushing themselves upright, cloaks stained with debris, expressions hardening into smug alertness.
Kiranna rolled her neck with a hiss. "So she's the one? Makes sense why that shit hurts. Ouch."
Vericka, still holding Glynis, lifted her sister with ease and carried her gently to the side of the destroyed gate's entrance. A mana wall shimmered there, rippling faintly with protective energy. She sat Glynis down against it, brushing sweat-soaked hair from her face.
Glynis had slipped into unconsciousness—exhausted, overwhelmed, possibly numbed by the Greater Heal. And maybe that was good. Maybe she needed to sleep. Vericka kissed her forehead softly.
"You rest now, Big Sis. I'll break this world before I let them touch you again."
She stood, turned slowly, and stepped away from her sister with the kind of calm that made even the wind go quiet. The space between her and the others grew thick—heavy, as her mana began to exude outward. Slow at first. A soft smoke. Then it bled into a swirling mist, the wind catching it like fire through dry grass.
Her eyes were locked on the enemy now. A few meters apart, standing like the opening of a final act.
Beau cleared his throat.
"If you are done, we 'ave come to challenge you for zee title of Demon Lord." He tipped his head with flair. "We invoke the old rite... A No-Rules-Rap-Battle, as is our law."
Vericka's stare didn't waver. But her jaw twitched.
"So, you're the one behind that letter five years ago?" Her voice came low, soaked in venom. "The Illuminati of Velonica?"
Beau nodded, twirling one of his rings on his finger.
"Oui. An' due to zee rules of zee United Clan Commandments, as long as we give you fair warnin' to prepare... you 'ave to accept my challenge."
The silence afterward was deafening. Vericka didn't answer at first. She just stood there, letting the power rise.
The wind around her picked up. A rush of air spiraled upward, tugging at her ponytail, fluttering the ends of her hair like wings in flight. Wind Mana encircled her form in radiant turquoise and emerald hues, flickering like distant lightning behind storm clouds.
Then, her head lifted.
"Fine," she said, and her voice cut through the tension like a sword. "I'll take you on and whoever else wants some."
Her mana flared violently, cracking the tiles beneath her feet. Wind whipped through the space, cutting sharp like blades.
"For my clan… for my kids… for this country…"
She took one step forward. Then another. And then—
"You will never earn the crown."
In her mind, one last whisper.
"I'm sorry, Moonlight. It seems this might be my last fight. I'm running on the last of Billie Holiday's power. And I don't know how long I can handle them alone. Kimmi-Wu… protect your grandmother."
For the first time in decades, Vericka let her walls drop. All of them. The grief. The rage. The exhaustion. The love. Her emotions surged forward like a tidal wave, flooding her soul and pouring into her mana signature.
It exploded outward.
The temperature shifted. The sky dimmed. Even the clouds above paused, unsure if they should move forward. Vericka's power painted the scene in hues of wind and sorrow, pressure dropping until even seasoned warriors found it hard to breathe.
She wasn't the powerhouse she once was—not magically. But her spirit? Her will?
Untouchable.
The Illuminati didn't know it yet, but they were about to learn.
They were about to feel.
But me? I still didn't see any of this firsthand. At the time this all unfolded, I was somewhere else entirely—deep within the Labyrinth of the Lost, about to walk straight into a trial that'd change my fate forever… completely unaware of the hell unraveling back home.
Back in the Labyrinth...
Day723[2] in Jerrica's Labyrinth
Last up on the watch cam for the Trial of the Bad… yeah, your favorite Majin had finally stepped into the frame. The journey to this point? Let's just say, it wasn't no Sunday stroll through mana-soaked fields. I had been forged in fire, stress, and damn near biblical levels of chaos. But standing there at the threshold of whatever madness was next, I felt… fresh. Like I had just woken up from a power nap in Omnia's guest room. My new race evolution hit different—it didn't just rewrite my limits, it deleted the whole concept of limitation. I wasn't confined to rules or reason anymore. It was like breathing freedom. Unfiltered. Raw. Pure rebellion.
It was time the universe understood: I was gonna do what the fuck I wanted—no matter how it felt about it.
When I stepped out of my portal, it was like falling into a dream painted by someone who'd only heard rumors of Earth. My feet touched down on soft, shimmering purple grass that gave way like velvet under pressure. The sky above me wasn't blue, black, or even remotely familiar—it was green, bold and deep like a forest in eternal twilight. And hanging over it, nine—count 'em, nine—full moons gleamed with eerie tranquility, arranged like a heavenly council ready to judge. The sun was nowhere to be seen, its fading light losing a slow battle against the dominion of moons. No other stars dared show up. Instead, a crimson aurorborileous shimmered and rippled across the sky like a living ribbon of light, bleeding magic into the atmosphere.
In front of me, nestled in the shadows of a thick, gnarled black tree, was a shallow cave. Inside were three ebony wooden chests, like something pulled straight from a glitched-out video game dungeon. Dustless. Unnaturally pristine. To my right, a winding trail led into a dark forest. The trees stood tall and otherworldly, their purple canopy swaying gently with each passing breeze like the world itself was breathing with me.
Wherever I was, I felt no anxiety. Not an ounce of fear. Just… peace. I could feel my body relax in ways I hadn't felt since I was human. I could only appreciate the raw, dark beauty of it all.
"This is nice."
[Midnight Star: Belial]'s voice came slithering out from deep inside me, always ready to mess up a vibe like a preacher at a strip club.
"Feeling comfortable in Infernia? Maybe that's the demonic heritage in us."
"Damn nigga, I can't just enjoy the sight? You'd fuck up a wet dream."
"We don't have time for you to daydream," he growled. "There is something we need to check."
I blinked. "Need to check?"
Then [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s cool and precise tone clicked into my mind like gears sliding into place.
"Yes, Master. We believe an artifact is nearby."
"Artifact? Like Mikazuki?"
Then came she. Nova.
"I'm close," she purred, voice drenched in lust and purpose. "My vessel is near, papi."
That voice. That damn sexy voice. It hit different. Like liquid temptation poured straight into my brain. Her sultry whisper sparked a familiar pulse in my core. I hadn't felt that since Luna summoned herself with that supernatural walk of hers. They weren't guessing—Nova's other half was close. Real close.
That's when the middle chest started to shake.
Not just a lil' nudge, either. I mean violent rattling, like something inside was throwing a whole tantrum, clawing and thrashing to get out. Wood creaked, and iron hinges groaned under pressure. I turned toward it, eyes narrowing.
If this had been a scary movie? I'd have hit the 180, exited stage left, and never looked back. But now? I was the monster of a horror flick. I was the bump in the night.
So what the hell else was I gonna do but walk right up and open it?
"Let's see what's behind door number two."
I flicked the lock. No resistance. It just clicked, almost too easily. As if whatever was inside had paused, listening, waiting for me. The rattling stopped. The air grew heavier. Even the wind decided to shut the hell up.
Right on cue, the Prime Realm System decided to make its little dramatic entrance.
«The Trial of the Bad is about to begin. Completion of the trial's objective is based on the defeat of this world's champion waiting ahead.»
I grinned. No fear. No hesitation. Just unfiltered readiness.
Ready to kick off my next quest with no remorse.
[End of Chapter]
[1] April on Earth
[2] Year Five.