Day 723[1] in Jerrica's Labyrinth
With the Prime Realm System finally shutting the hell up, the nine moons above me pulsed with a sudden, gentle brightness—as if I'd given the sky a silent cue. The emerald hue deepened into something richer, glowing like bioluminescent jade smeared across the heavens. That's when I noticed the feel of the ground. The violet grass beneath my feet was soft, almost cloud-like, but the texture was unmistakably real. There was a faint tingle, like the land itself buzzed with dormant energy.
And that's when I saw them—my damn feet.
I was barefoot.
My boots were gone, probably shredded during my race evolution like they had no clearance for king-tier upgrades. I stared at my own blackened toenails, sharp and pointed, glinting like midnight daggers in the moonlight. Toes looked like the villain in somebody's bedtime story… and I wasn't even mad. Lucky for me, there wasn't an audience to roast the hell outta my demon pedicure.
The ebony chest I'd unlocked just moments ago sat eerily still now. Like it knew the attention had returned to it and was tryna act like it hadn't just been throwin' a fit seconds ago. Whatever had been thrashing inside had gone full silent—suspiciously silent. For a second, I questioned if I was trippin', if maybe the whole chest-rattling episode was just my imagination. But my instincts stayed sharp.
And just like that—pop!
The lid exploded open without warning, shooting a black and purple blur straight at my face with more speed than most beings I'd fought. I leaned hard to the side on reflex, letting the thing pass me by in a blur of slick mana and air displacement that cracked like thunder. I spun on my heel, keeping my posture low as I tracked the movement. My eyes widened.
It was alive.
The substance twisted in the air like a freed spirit—liquid darkness and twilight blended together, oozing with purpose. It hovered above the grass, folding and unfolding on itself like it hadn't made up its damn mind what shape to be yet. And all the while, it shimmered like it was reflecting every moon in the sky.
"Hmm... I would make a 'slick as oil' joke, but it wouldn't mix well with the mood."
"Master, that's the Artifact we are looking for. It's a magickal bio-armor that can alter its matter and form."
My face screwed up. "Wait, that's an outfit? That's Nova!? Why is she all wet and stuff?"
[Midnight Star: Belial] chimed in with his signature dry-ass delivery. "Looks like she's happy to see you."
I rolled my eyes. "Nigga, shut up."
I took a cautious step closer. The metal ooze had started forming a shape—humanoid, curvy, tempting. Its frame took the figure of a woman, four arms stretching with dancer-like elegance as the substance wrapped into its own seductive silhouette. She never hardened. Her body rippled constantly, liquid bending like silk over invisible bones, always moving, always flowing like a looped wave. Every inch of her screamed mysticism… and sin.
"I've heard of new drip, but y'all are doing it wrong."
"Its ability to change its physical form seems to be going berserk," Tsukuyomi warned. I could hear the concern in his tone, like he knew if I didn't act quickly, she'd start melting trees or something.
Belial didn't hesitate. "Hurry and cast the Summoning for the Soul Binding Ritual. She'll be able to control her ability with Noir sealed back in her."
"Aight, fool, don't rush me."
The moment felt too intimate for interference. I raised both hands, palms out, hovering just over the rippling figure of the liquid woman below me. Something in my chest hummed—steady, deep—like the beat of a bass drum echoing from my soul. I remembered the moment Tsukuyomi summoned [Civil Luna]... how precise it was, how controlled. But this—this wasn't borrowed finesse. This was mine. No whispering guidance. No steadying hand. It felt personal, like a solo verse only I could lay down. My spirit called iso.
My Wind Mana was the first to answer. A sharp, cutting breeze swirled out from my hands, bending the air with sacred intent as it carved glyphs into the violet-toned earth beneath us. The symbols were alive, glowing faintly silver, and humming as if they recognized my touch. With a deep breath, I let the Yin Mana rise. It didn't explode or shout like most mana affinities. It whispered. It coiled in on itself with that haunting glow, like the pale light of a dying moon cast across still water.
Then came the Astral Mana—refined, brilliant, and ancient. It slid through me like silk and poured into the ritual without resistance. [Astronomical Nova] activated seamlessly, triggering a surge of Bio Mana that pulsed through my bones like I had mainlined the cosmos. Gone was the shock I used to feel. I had become something... more. I didn't use the rules of magick anymore. I was a cheat code with mana.
Noir, hidden within the locked archives of my Soul Core, answered my call like a lover hearing her name whispered in the dark. Black mana unspooled around the liquid body, its form undulating like oil caressed by storm winds. The swirling black vortex wrapped around her like a lover's embrace—warm, fierce, possessive. The tornado collapsed inward as if the world held its breath, and when it did, she became.
The liquid doll took form with all the soundless grace of a star being born.
And what a form it was.
Standing five-foot-one of concentrated desire, she was a walking hunger spell. Her melanin glowed under the moonlight like polished cocoa gems. Her palms and elbows glinted obsidian black joints while her lower arms reversed the tone—deep ebony transitioning into smooth chocolate. The shape of her body was more than voluptuous—it was crafted. Sculpted curves, four-toned arms, a waist that sang poetry, and hips that carried rhythm with every breath.
Her face was sin in soft packaging. Those puffed cheeks curled her lips just enough to make her smile look like temptation dipped in innocence. Midnight lipstick traced with an indigo shimmer drew every syllable to sin. Her long, black dreadlocks flowed like night made flesh, tumbling to the top of her ass in rich, silken rivers—just like Omnia's, but darker, bolder.
Then her eyes…
Heart-shaped irises and pupils with royal blue and indigo glow, swimming in black sclera. Eyes I hadn't seen since the Creator stared into my soul. She was erotic elegance. Walking seduction. Weaponized lust.
With a PHAT ass.
I was caught. Straight up. Standing there, frozen, admiring. In lust.
"Well, damn. Where were you hiding all that?" I asked, voice a low, impressed rasp.
She smiled, soft and wicked, cheeks flushing with warmth like I'd just gifted her a galaxy.
"You like, papi?" she growled.
Then she stretched—all four arms—turning slowly like a preview reel. Her skin caught the moonlight as she popped that divine ass out with a tease and bounce that made my brain short-circuit. She hit me with that slow glance over the shoulder, flirty eyes heavy with intention.
"Papi likes. Now… be a good gi—"
Before I could finish flexing, she launched herself at me.
Nude. Intentional. Fast as fuck.
My body froze, but my soul leaned forward, wanting. Needing.
Her bare body hit mine with the weight of desire unspoken. Her breasts pressed into my chest as she grabbed my head like it was hers to hold. And then, tongue first—she kissed me. Deep. Wet. Dominant. Submissive. All of it in one.
«Requirements met, activating [Soul Contract]. Connecting both parties. Establishing service and empowerment.»
Her aura poured through the kiss, sealing the ritual with emotion and magick. She gave herself willingly with a smile.
The Prime Realm System's voice buzzed in my mind, monotone but charged with weight:
«Power distribution complete. The contract is placed at 90% to 10%. The [Soul Binding] shall now proceed.
Adjusting the ability skill [Guardian Armament].
A new guardian armament [Noir Empress: Karma Nova] has been installed.
A new ultra skill called [Born Sinner] has been installed.
New personal subskills [Karma's Return], [Auto-Defense], [Die Hard], [Form Polymorph], and [Forbidden Fruit] installed.
Readjusting personal skills [Immortal Connection], [Skill Tree Link], [Master's Command], and [Master's Gifts].
Raising the magickal power on Pure Seed Soul, Xiro Mikazuki, by 30%. The [Soul Binding] is complete.»
Karma Nova broke the kiss, her breath warm against my lips, and just grinned.
"Yeah, Papi definitely likes."
She backed up slowly, her movement gentle, fluid, like a bride in the moment right after saying "I do." Her eyes locked with mine—those deep, hypnotic heart-shaped irises glowing softly with that ethereal indigo-on-royal-blue shimmer. They were calming, sultry, and damn near addictive. She looked at me like I was her whole universe…Like I was the star that lit her sky.
The mana that had poured off her in waves before—wild, raw, lustful, euphoric—was gone. Not suppressed, not hidden. Controlled. Refined. Settled within her like she'd always belonged in this form. [Spirit Weapon: Astronomical Nova] was no more. In her place now stood [Noir Empress: Karma Nova], and her aura was humming in tune with mine. Literally. There was a hum, soft and melodic, echoing from her presence like she was wrapped in a lullaby only I could hear.
"And here I thought I was going to have a tussle," I said, flashing a cocky little grin.
Karma tilted her head, all four arms posing in a flirtatious fan. "We can wrestle whenever you want, Daddy."
Lawd. The way she said "Daddy" with that slight accent in her tone? I felt my soul pulse. Or my dick.
"I like you," I admitted, adjusting the fit of my attitude just enough not to sound whipped. "But first, we need to get you some clothes to wear."
"No," she said immediately, walking up and placing my hands into her top pair of hands.
Her skin was warm like fresh cocoa on a moonlit night—smooth and soft but humming with the strength of a thousand storms under the surface. She stared at me, playful yet dead serious.
"I am your armor," she whispered, her voice velvet with edge. "The only thing going to happen will be you getting inside me."
I blinked. "The way that sounds…"
But before I could finish dragging that double entendre through the mud, she had already lifted my arms above my head with her upper pair of hands, while her lower set moved with dangerous efficiency. With a single downward pull—fwsssh—my old hakama pants were gone. Clean off. Them joints never stood a chance.
I was as naked as the day I reincarnated. Wind caught me at the best moment too, letting my dick sway like it was waving to the audience.
Karma took a moment—deadass just stared.
"Mhm." She bit her lip, eyes locked on me like I was her midnight snack. "You've got quite the size on you. I like."
"Thanks," I replied smoothly, "I grew it myself."
Still holding my arms up, she leaned down slowly, bringing her face close to my pelvis. It felt like some spiritual seduction, like I was being lured into a ritual with no return. She whispered something soft in a language I didn't recognize, and like she'd hit a switch, my dick sprang to attention like a soldier at roll call.
"Whoa, whoa, what are you doin' down there?"
She didn't answer. Just wrapped her lips around me and took me. Slow. Deep. Consuming every inch of me with a sensuality that bordered on reverence. Her moan vibrated through me like a tuning fork of lust and power. Then, her form began to melt. Her body transformed—flesh to fluid. Dark twilight liquid with streaks of starlight in it.
Like some kind of divine ink, she flowed up my body, hugging tight to every crevice, every muscle, every curve. I could feel her essence sinking into my skin, merging with my mana and body like she'd always belonged there. As she sealed to me, the liquid hardened and reshaped. It was armor, but not just any equipment.
A sleeveless obsidian chestplate locked over my torso, slick with a lunar sheen and crescent moon design on the back. Matching boots and pants followed, dark and smooth, reinforced yet flexible. A deep black-and-purple waist cape spilled down my side like shadows draping royalty. Gauntlets formed over my hands, reminiscent of my clan's Mikazuki traditions—ancient, proud, unmistakably mine.
I looked down at myself, grinning widely.
"Now that's dope," I said, flexing slightly just to see how the armor moved with me. "But no gettin' dressed like that around any children."
"'Kay," she replied from within me, her voice laced with a purr of satisfaction.
She was gonna be a handful. But damn it, I was glad to have her. She filled a space I hadn't realized was hollow—lustful passion. That burning intimacy. That craving to be held and needed. Even if she was extra clingy… and had four arms.
"Hey," I muttered, adjusting myself. "Can you relax the pressure on my dick? Feels tight down there."
"Don't you want me to protect this area?" she asked, all innocent from the inside.
"Yes, but let 'em swing a bit. I usually go commando. Never been the briefs type."
"Understood, papi," she said, and I swear she squeezed my soul when she said it like that. And my dick, again.
Then [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s voice chimed in from the deeper recesses of my consciousness, all composed and informative as always.
"With [Noir Empress: Karma Nova], we can use the data of any material or matter to match your bio-armor's properties. Effectively making it whatever you desire."
I nodded slowly, taking one last look at the way the armor shimmered under the moonlight. I could feel her heartbeat in sync with mine. A living suit, a lover, a partner, a protector—all wrapped into one seductive powerhouse.
"Welcome to my life, Karma."
I took a long breath, staring down at my new outfit—sleek obsidian armor with purple undertones gleaming softly in the ambient mana-light around me. It felt perfect. Not only in fit, but in identity. My body was wrapped in the very manifestation of Karma Nova's affection, and I looked every bit the dark sage-warrior I had become.
But as I admired the reflection off my new gauntlets, a thought crept in that tightened my chest: my brothers were still out there wearing the same old raggedy fits. Clothes barely holding together from training days, dungeon dirt, and pure stubbornness. I had no right to look this cold and let my people walk around lookin' like secondhand spirit benders. Nah. That ain't family. That's vanity.
I turned my head toward the two unopened chests I had overlooked. If there was anything good in there—armor, cloth, even scraps—I was gonna duplicate it using [Dominus Avaritiae], then send it out to Luda and the rest of the boys. One look and they'd know I had 'em in mind.
Cracking open the first chest was underwhelming as hell. Just three rocks and two rolls of thread, coiled like high-end ribbon. I gave a half-scoff and muttered.
"Damn geologist, always thinking every rock worth saving."
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s voice entered my thoughts with that calm, borderline pretentious tone.
"Master, those may be of use to you. The black-hued stone is Obsidium. A mineral that can withstand extreme pressures and temperatures—star-level forces."
Before I could even process that, [Midnight Star: Belial] chimed in.
"Mix it with that Starlite and you'll make something dope. Great for gear."
Tsukuyomi followed up like a damn textbook:
"He means it will forever remember its form and self-repair. Starlite is an alien mineral that reverts to its original structure. Only ancient high-level Manasmiths have forged with it—successfully, that is."
I smirked, flipping the magisteel chunk in my hand.
"When I can manipulate matter directly, I don't play by their rules."
"True," Tsukuyomi replied. "And with the rolls of voidsilk, you can thread the cloth. It also serves as a mana conduit—voidsilk helps enchantment bind to mana-resistant material. Obsidium naturally repels magitons, so voidsilk's interwoven properties will stabilize that conflict."
That caught my interest.
I scooped everything up and backed away from the chest, giving myself some working room. I stared at the obsidium, holding it between my fingers, turning it slowly. I could feel the hum of rejected mana—it trembled slightly in my palm, not from fear, but from conflict. Magitons drifted away from it like offended spirits.
But I saw the solution in my mind. Obsidium reacted to pressure and heat, not mana. Obsidium was the mineral that created magisteel once it left a planet's core and sat for centuries. That meant I could cheat the rules. I formed a condensed spherical barrier around it, like a bubble of absolute containment. Inside, I manipulated the air, compressing the particles until they screamed. Temperature surged past a hundred billion Kelvin, turning the inside of the bubble into an artificial star, brighter than lightning but smothered in black.
The obsidium finally gave in. It didn't shatter, it melted—but even its molten form fought back with spikes of magnetic resistance, like it didn't want to lose itself. That's when I dropped the chunk of starlite into the mix. The collision was metaphysical. Mana waves rippled in microbursts as the two minerals clashed and bonded, forming a dark, oscillating liquid that looked like starlight trapped in oil.
The [Matter Manipulation] skill coursed through my hands, threading mana through both materials like I was stitching power into fabric. I felt the combination lock into place, a perfect alchemy of contradiction.
"Aye, Tsuki," I said, focused. "Gimme Luda's specs."
"Better idea," he replied quickly. "Allow me to handle this, Master. I already have designs prepared for each brother. Styles that reflect their personalities, their growth, down to their mana rhythm and battle tendencies."
"Go ahead then," I said with a grin. "Do what you do."
With that, I handed over control of the physical automations to [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]. He got to work instantly, more efficient than any forge. My shadowspace flickered, greed humming through my bones as [Dominus Avaritiae] duplicated every thread with flawless hunger. The duplicated materials multiplied in my [Midnight World] as his algorithms ran simulations of motion, durability, resistance types—every stitch embedded with purpose. [Midnight Star: Belial] gave no commentary, but I felt his pride pulsing faintly, like an approving growl.
I stayed out of the way, watching as voidsilk was tailored around plates of magisteel and obsidium alloy. Every outfit came out unique—powerful. Regal. But then I saw the set designed for Artamis, and I knew that wasn't gonna fly.
Artamis didn't do traditional. Not without grumbling. His style was carefree, almost working-man. So, I decided to tweak the obsidium formula a bit. I infused the new batch with flexible properties, sacrificing a slice of its true density for adaptability. Instead of completely repelling mana, I tuned its structure to absorb and redistribute it, much like a synthetic gland.
The result? Enchanted Obsidium. Jet-black, polished, but slick with a sheen of violet undertone that pulsed with mana just beneath the surface. I called it "Obsidium Remix" in my notes.
With that, I crafted a block of Enchanted Magisteel and eight Mnemonic Crystals—each crescent moon crystal encoded with personalized instructions and a lil' message from yours truly explaining their new gear and how to flex it properly.
Now, I just had to find everybody. But trust me—they were gonna feel like legends the moment this gear touched their skin.
And that? That was worth any drop of mana I spent.
Feeling like it was the perfect moment to flex a few newly acquired tricks, I activated [Dimensional Detection]—and lemme tell you, that shit was an ascension. Imagine trying to look at a 3D globe map, but you're floatin' above it as a 4D being, peering down on every inch like time and gravity were just rumors. Infernia, broken into its wild cardinal sectors—Earthen North, Blazing South, Windy East, Watery West—each glowed in my vision like neon veins in the body of a dying god. Mana pulsed across the terrain like Infernia itself was alive and pissed, yet calm in its fury. The map bent and stretched with every conscious thought I had.
Even though the dimensional layers constantly fluctuated, folding and breathing like lungs made of geometry, my mind wasn't overwhelmed. That was the part that really hit me—I was handling all of this. Like breathing. Like blinking. Information just flowed. And with the Quantum Supercomputer that was [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] riding shotgun, I had my brothers locked in and pinged with sub-spatial markers faster than I could finish a breath. The entire plane of Infernia might've looked like chaos incarnate to most, but to me? It was structured, readable, and mine to play with.
That's when I realized how good my [Spatial Control] had evolved. Upgraded wasn't even the right word—it had become something new.
[Absolute Spacetime Manipulation].
This shit right here? Nah. I don't think you're feeling me. This gave me unmatched control over the fabric of spacetime—I edited it. Bent the grains that made it up. And that's what folks don't get. Time ain't a river or a line. It's not even loops. Time is grains. Little pieces of perception and event-stamps that, once settled and hardened, make up what we call "reality." Like cosmic quick-dry cement.
Each time-grain forms when something happens and gets witnessed—the moment someone's eyes, senses, or mana signature logs it in their soul memory, it becomes concrete. Add enough new events that connect to it, and suddenly that one moment in the past gets too tangled up to safely change. It's locked behind webbed threads of causality.
So, long story short? You can mess with the past… but you got a tight-ass window before the universe yells, "Nah, bruh!" and hits you with a causality backlash that'll slap your existence outta sync. Like, unbirth-you level of slap.
But.
That rule ain't universal.
See, Infernia's strange like that. In specific zones—mostly in the spatial vacuums where the plane's fabric is thin and reality is more suggestion than law—the time-grains never settle. They remain in this…liminal stasis. Shifting. Breathing. In those patches, causality never even starts, so it never gets interrupted.
That meant one terrifyingly beautiful thing.
Quantum Teleportation without consequence.
No tracking. No time-anchors. No timelines screaming at me for defiling their sacred weave. I could just pop in, rearrange the script, and pop out like I'd always been part of the story.
So, with that dangerous little loophole unlocked, I made my call.
I dropped my brothers' gifts into position right before their trials began. Gave them just enough time to catch their breath, square their shoulders, and steel themselves before all hell broke loose. Even sent Kimmi a new look—sleek, sharp, and subtle. No flashy entrance, no announcement of arrival—they'd just appear, like they were always meant to be there.
And if I could tip the odds in their favor like that?
Then yeah, I was gonna do it. Every single time.
After closing the last of the shimmering mana-portals—each of them collapsing inward with a satisfying shrrrkt sound like a zip tie snapping in reverse—I turned to reassess the landscape. The strange wisteria-colored forest that surrounded me was unnaturally silent, like the whole world had paused to breathe. The petals glowed softly, releasing faint lavender hues into the air like bioluminescent mist, and the dirt path ahead, dimly lit by the moons above, curved into a denser, darker tangle of trees. It felt as if it was calling me. Or maybe daring me.
The air thickened slightly.
Something was coming.
I narrowed my eyes as the shadows stirred. The crunch of heavy footsteps against the fallen petals echoed out louder than a war drum. Someone was taking their sweet-ass time, but every step radiated purpose. Confidence. Danger.
"Guess we're not alone," I muttered to myself, loosening my shoulders.
From the deeper shades of the forest emerged a figure that moved like a moving mountain. Stepping into the moonlight with the swagger of a damn juggernaut, he was easily over eight feet tall, with broad shoulders plated in ancient, platinum armor cracked with glowing red lines—like the earth had tried to swallow him whole and failed. The air around him was thick with pressure, almost humming from the raw mana spilling off him in invisible waves. His triple-fin helmet bore the crest of a forgotten kingdom, the design warped with time and hatred, but it still tried to scream legacy.
Only his eyes were visible beneath the shadows of his helm—cobalt flames that seemed to burn without blinking.
Clutched in his gauntleted hands was a greatsword—no, a curse made physical. The blade throbbed with black veins of energy, leaking despair—a bleeding wound in space. It was so massive it should've been a burden. But this bastard held it like a kitchen knife.
"You're the one the Archons sent to challenge me?" His voice was metallic and cold, like a war horn echoing down a canyon filled with corpses.
"Confirmed Artifact." [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] spoke up inside my mind. The greatsword was called Doombringer. Forged from the very essence of terror... it feeds on the hopelessness of its victims.
My eyes narrowed. "So the Outer Gods were behind these trials."
"If you're this champion I've heard so much about," I said, sliding into a stance that kept me just outside the swing of his massive sword, "then I'm your Huckleberry."
The demon didn't respond immediately. He just studied me, silent and calculating. I made sure to keep my mana signature twisted, suppressed, giving a false read. If he had even half the sensitivity of a seasoned M-Cee, he'd be trying to measure me by that.
"I am Draco Calyrex, the Forgotten Warblade. I guard the Core Seal found on this world."
"Xiro of the Mikazuki Clan," I said, giving a mock bow. "The Devil of Velonica. I'm here to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I forgot to bring gum."
"Then yes," he confirmed, "you were sent by the Archons."
"Hmm," I tilted my head. "Why do the Outer Gods want me to kill you?"
He glared at me—nothing supernatural, just raw suspicion and fury. But after a second of icy silence, he answered.
"You're just a good little pawn... given orders, never questioning them."
"I'm nobody's pawn, bitch."
"Hmph," he snorted. "Then here's the truth. With me and the Cardinal Kings dead, the Succubus Queen can be revived. And once Jerrica returns to the Prime Realms, the prophecy of King Solomon's Revenge will begin."
"Prophecy information located…" [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s voice echoed through me again, this time laced with unease. "An ancient story from over two thousand years ago… It tells of planetary annihilation caused by a war between Paradiso and Infernia, waged not in the Outer Realms, but within the fragile Inner Realms."
"So this wasn't just some gauntlet or shit. This was a chess game."
I blinked. "So, somebody wants you dead to restart a simmering beef from long ago?"
"The true threat," Draco said, tightening his grip on Doombringer, "is the Succubus Queen herself. Jerrica was once an Aeon, said to rival even the Twilight Goddess... in battle and in love."
"Wait... Omnia?" I asked silently. "My Guardian Armament? Kyttin? Karma? What is he talking about?"
Kyttin's voice replied gently, "We don't remember our past as one collected being, Master. Our memories began the day we were separated."
Karma added with a shrug of attitude, "She's right, papi."
I looked back at Draco. "So if she gets free, the mortal worlds are basically fu—"
"Not only the Inner Realms," Draco cut me off, "but all Prime Realms will suffer. Her hatred for Paradiso burns stronger than death itself."
"Well," I said with a smirk, "I got my own beef with those sanctimonious bastards, so I can relate."
Draco paused. Like he was reading me deeper than just my words, like he could taste the blood in my memories.
"It doesn't seem like you're going to turn around and return to the Inner Realm," he said coldly.
"Hmm... Well," I replied, tilting my head with a grin, "I was kinda interested in seeing this Succubus Queen... and fucking her—err, I mean, fighting her."
That joke? Not well received.
The pressure of his mana rose like a tsunami, flooding the air around us with a crushing weight. The forest reacted—petals rippling, trees bending away as if they feared what would happen next. Draco's eyes narrowed into burning coals.
"Look, I can't pass my trial until I beat you anyway. So if this Jerrica bitch does show up... I'll just kill her too."
Draco finally spoke, each word heavy enough to make gravity itself flinch.
"Such foolish arrogance. To think you're strong enough to defeat me... let alone face the Succubus Queen... is hysterical."
He tilted his head slightly.
"A pity I lack humor."
I cracked my neck and smiled. "Nothing to worry about," I said.
"I wasn't joking."
Draco flared his mana in full release, and in that instant, the world around us changed. What had been a silent forest soaked in hues of wisteria and jade became a battlefield born of legends. Cobalt and plum-colored mana exploded from his body like a violent campfire. It didn't pulse—only howled, rushing outward in spiraling waves that cracked the air and sent ripples through the eternal green skies above. His power manifested like a second sky above him, ancient glyphs of forgotten dialects spinning and collapsing into themselves around his form. The ground groaned under the weight of his aura; entire plateaus in the distance trembled, crumbled, and caved into themselves from the sheer pressure. Mountains on the horizon cracked like brittle glass. Every tree, every blade of grass, seemed to bow in submission.
Yeah... he was definitely someone to be feared by most folks.
But me?
I cracked my neck, popped my fingers, and yawned a little.
"Finally. Looks like we're resorting to violence and force," I said with a grin. "Good. Come show me what you can do, Forgotten Warblade."
Draco shifted into a stance so wide and grounded it might as well have been carved into the earth itself. Both hands gripped Doombringer, that cursed hunk of a sword, and I watched as Devil Mana began to surge down his arms into the weapon. The effect was swift and unholy. The air surrounding the blade turned sick with distortion, like someone had poured molten tar into reality itself. Crimson lightning crackled around the greatsword, and eldritch symbols crawled down the metal like spiders with bad intentions. His mana exuded more than pressure—it exhaled despair.
"I'm going to enjoy wiping that smirk off your face, Oni," he growled.
"You couldn't even wipe my ass."
That did it.
He launched at me, moving so fast the world screamed behind him. But to me? He might as well have been crawling.
I let him rush. Then I vanished—only to reappear behind him mid-stride, casually tapping the back of his knee with a flick of my finger. Then again, on the back of his helmet. Then, finally, right in the crook of his elbow. I was being petty. Tactical, sure—but mostly petty. Before he could even register, I'd moved, I was back in my original spot, both feet planted, hand lazily raised... and caught his sword mid-swing.
The shockwave from that blocked strike was absurd. The wind pressure alone exploded outward, flattening trees in a quarter-mile radius and reducing a nearby cliffside into airborne rubble. The cave entrance nearby—the one with the three wooden chests—was instantly turned into memory foam.
"Fuck," I muttered, watching a chest fly off into the atmosphere. "I didn't get to open door number 3."
Draco stumbled back, fury dripping off him like sweat. I didn't even need Tsukuyomi to tell me how hot his blood was boiling—his mana screamed it for him. That cursed greatsword vibrated in his grip like it was feeding on his rage. My lack of concern clearly offended his pride.
"Get your sword back, try again."
He did—ripping it from my loose grip and falling back a few dozen feet. His body pulsed again, his aura bleeding more Devil Mana, this time with a shade deeper, darker. Doombringer howled in response. The silver blade now glowed ultraviolet, like a dying sun trying to burn one last time.
"Hiding your true strength?" he barked. "I'll bring it out of you. Art of Calyrex: Judgment Strike!"
His voice was a battle cry and a death sentence all at once. Power channeled from every limb into the blade, and with a single overhead swing, the world split. The energy from that attack could've carved through the crust of Gaia. My eyes widened as I used [Appraisal] mid-cast—this bastard's Combat Art had layered the strike with Nihility. The kind of shit that erased—not destroyed—erased matter from existence.
Dangerous.
But also… kinda cute he was trying.
I raised my left hand and summoned the Red Queen. Spiritons swirled like molten mercury around my arm before solidifying into a gleaming crimson ōdachi in less than a blink. That sword and I had history. She sang when I held her. With a smirk curling on my lips, I used a classic family technique:
"Crescent Moon Blade: Lunar Reflection."
I didn't counter the strike. I redirected it.
My blade curved the oncoming energy like a mirror angled at the Elohim herself. It shot upward with a whistle of unreal speed, piercing the jade atmosphere and slamming straight into one of the moons above us.
The result?
Boom.
Moon: gone.
The shockwave of the impact rippled across the heavens like a stone across a divine ocean—and it didn't stop there. The neighboring moon caught the brunt of the aftershock and also decided it didn't wanna live anymore. In the distance, celestial debris scattered across the sky like shattered diamond dust, and two craters now glowed in place of the satellites. It was poetic, chaotic, and a little overkill.
But damn if it didn't look cool.
Draco, though? Not feelin' it.
He fell to one knee, chest heaving, clearly drained. That last move had pulled from the marrow of his strength. The afterglow of Devil Mana flickered and dimmed, leaving behind only the scent of scorched earth and desperation. I could smell it on him—his anxiety rising like steam off a dying fire.
"You nervous?"
I turned to face him, my eyes glowing indigo beneath the hood of night. My Bio Mana oozed from my skin like smoky kisses, rising in spirals toward the fractured sky. The moonlight bathed my back, and only the shadows saw the crooked grin spreading across my face as I began to approach him.
"Let me show you why they call me the Devil of Velonica."
Red Queen still crackled in my hand, and within me, [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] and [Midnight Star: Belial] stirred. My Guardian Armaments were wide awake. This wasn't about winning a fight anymore. This was about making sure whoever sent this demon knew: I wasn't a piece in anyone's game.
They were fucking with the wrong one.
Equipped with two of my most dangerous items and a new energy that I still didn't fully understand—but damn sure enjoyed—I was about to turn this Trial of the Bad into a Trial of the Dangerous.
Still... I had questions.
The Outer Gods. The prophecy. Jerrica the Succubus Queen. A war older than time that might just be waking back up.
Someone was interfering with our time in the Labyrinth. And trust me when I say, I was going to find out who.
Even if I had to break another moon to get the answers.
[End of Chapter]
[1] Year Five.