4th Day of the 1st Fire Cycle[1], 2000 g.c.
The trek through the smoking ruins of what used to be half of Talasi was like walking through a nightmare I saw on the horizon, but never thought I'd have to breathe in. My boots pressed into ash and broken tiles, some of which still radiated heat from the hellfire that had licked its way through wooden walls and mana-forged stone. A thick, bitter scent choked the air—burnt flesh, scorched mana, despair, and the copper tang of blood. Even as I raised my hand to quell the lingering flames—opening my palms and conjuring a portal with [Absolute Absorption] to snuff out the residual heat—I couldn't cleanse the stench or the silence behind it.
We moved as a unit, my people and I, but it felt like each step isolated me more. The puddles of blood were more than dark crimson stains on the earth — they became pools where stories ended. Names I recognized echoed like whispers every time I passed a face I'd seen smiling five month-cycles ago. A merchant who sold sourberry wine and laughed like a donkey. A Dark Elf child who once asked me if Demon Lords ever got scared. A young Celestial boy who dreamed of being a guard. Gone. Just... gone. Bodies weren't always whole. Limbs scattered like broken dolls. Blackened bones peeked out from collapsed homes, warped by unrelenting heat. Some of those screams still echoed in my mind. And worse—I knew most of them had been silenced before I ever made it back.
If Alex hadn't intercepted Marzia… if he hadn't risked everything to stop her chaotic rampage… The truth is, there would've been no Talasi left. Her freerun was like watching a hurricane of malevolence skip gleefully through innocent lives. My jaw clenched at the thought. We'd saved what we could, but damn if it didn't feel too late for so many.
Above us, the tri-moons hung slow and collected in their silver grief. They tried to soothe the ruin, casting everything in that soft, nightly glow that made even broken buildings look serene. But it was a cruel trick, like putting lace over a corpse. The moonlight kissed the rooftops and shimmered in the puddles, but it couldn't hide what was beneath. Not from me.
Death wasn't new to me. I'd walked hand in hand with it, made deals with it. But love? Love always made death more... difficult to handle. And that's when I realized the love had crept in when I wasn't looking. These people weren't just townsfolk. They were my people. My extended kin. Somewhere along the line, they had stopped being background characters in my story and started being family. Familiar faces. Shared meals. Trust given without demand.
The Mikazuki Clan was the only noble clan left in Talasi, the first line of defense in a land where protection was a luxury. For many, that made us more than leaders. We were their future. Their shield. Without strong families like ours, most towns would never survive long enough to become anything more than pit stops or graveyards. Mana Beasts didn't care about ambition. Bandits didn't care about dreams. And wild M-Cees? They were walking extinction events with mood swings.
These people had built homes near us because we had strength. Because we could keep them alive. And now? Now, half of them lie silent beneath the debris. I didn't need to hear anyone say it. I felt it. I let them down.
That thought? It hit me harder than any blade ever could.
There was a time when I could've brushed it off, made a joke, blamed the system. Back when detachment was my survival method and distance was my defense. But those days? They were gone. Gaia wasn't a place I was visiting anymore. This world had become my home. And with the power I held now, I would reshape it.
So why did it feel like I was already too late? Like, I missed the buzzer for the game-winning shot.
The Wolfpak ain't never been the soft type, but even they had a hard time soaking in the wreckage. Alex was walking a few steps behind me, biting into an Arcanum Delight as he rubbed his bruised cheek. Sweet mana-infused citrus swirled with lavender glaze — it was his instant recovery, and I couldn't even blame him for stress-snacking. Every time we came across another scorched patch of hellfire or some mangled stone warped by divine combustion, I'd catch him glancing at it with this sheepish expression. Real subtle, like he thought nobody noticed. He'd shuffle over, quietly raise a palm, and release a soft burst of cooling winds to put the last flickers out, eyes darting around like a guilty puppy. I let him have that. Guilt was a bitter wine to drink alone.
Thanks to Steez and his hyperactive sprinting across Talasi—faster than sound, barely a blur—we were making solid progress cleaning up the chaos. Every few seconds, you'd see a flash of neon red zip past, and suddenly, a collapsed roof would be stacked neatly or a wall reassembled like it had never been hit. The man's super speed was clutch, and when paired with my speed, it was like watching time move in reverse. Debris vanished, scorch marks faded, and order slowly returned. We weren't rebuilding Talasi—we were re-stitching a bleeding soul.
As we walked, Alex started bragging about the fight he had with Marzia. He talked about how he busted out some Capoeira mid-fight, flipping and dancing around her claws like he'd been trained in Brazil in a past life. I raised a brow, intrigued. Capoeira wasn't exactly on Arcadia's syllabus.
"Show me," I said, grinning.
He squared up with an exaggerated flourish, tried to do one of those ginga steps into a spinning kick… and immediately tripped on a loose tile and lost the rhythm. He played it off, of course, but I could tell the overthinking had kicked in. I didn't say it, but I knew exactly how those moves ended up in his arsenal. But that was my secret. Instead, I clapped him on the back and told him to keep practicing, lifting a chunk of broken building out of the road and chucking it into a pile with casual precision.
Behind us, Jojo and Krystal floated in silence for a while, eyes sweeping over the destruction. They weren't ready for this level of damage. You could see the shame wearing them like soaked cloaks.
"I never agreed with the Saint Disciples attacking innocent people," Jojo muttered, voice low. "I've seen too many towns end up like this. It's not justice. It's slaughter."
Krystal nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on the curled body of a Celestial woman half-buried under rubble. "The church truly hasn't changed in two millennia."
I let the silence linger for a moment, then raised my hands and released a wave of Yin Mana into the air.
The energy poured out in ribbons of misty black and moonlight blue, swirling like ghostlight fireflies around me.
My clones started forming one after the other—twelve exact copies of myself stepping out from the shadowy mist with quiet footsteps and glowing silver eyes. They bowed to me briefly, then dispersed across the town.
Each one of them had full access to my abilities and my will. They'd be repairing homes, stabilizing damaged areas of the barrier, and finding survivors who fled during the chaos. I could see them working through my spirit thread—one found a trapped family under the ruins of a bakery, another started reinforcing a collapsing watchtower. With them out in the field, I could finally focus on other priorities—namely, checking on Mom and Aunt Glynis.
We passed another ruined plaza when Jojo broke the silence again.
"You have an extensive library of art spells," he said with a tone of fascination, not mockery. "Plus, I never see or hear you chant before casting. It's… fascinating. I've never known an Oni who could command the magicks the way you do."
I grinned. "Aww. I bet you say that to all the cute Oni you run across."
Krystal chimed in, dry humor in her tone. "And here I thought that red Ogre from long ago was more your type."
Jojo scoffed. "You both are quite the jesters. But admit it, Krystal, not even Colorberg's best wizards can cast like this."
Krystal raised an eyebrow. "Isn't one of the Divine Nine living in Colorberg now?"
Jojo waved a hand. "Honestly? I think he could beat the Divine Nine. At the same time."
She smirked. "You're really trying not to get eaten, huh?"
I burst out laughing. "He don't need to glaze me for that. But I am interested in this Divine Nine you speak of…"
Their expressions shifted, ever so slightly. They weren't expecting me to take an interest. But I wasn't just some backwoods king on a demon throne—I needed information. Insight. If Divine-level threats were living comfy in Colorberg, they were gonna end up on my radar one way or another.
And besides, now that Talasi had bled for its survival… I wasn't about to let anything slip through the cracks again.
Luda—being the walking sparkplug of fun that he was—tilted his head and said with absolute confidence, "If I remember correctly, they are the real Super Niggas of the Human race."
Alex's head perked up like a dog hearing a treat bag crinkle. "Damn, the humans have more super niggas? Can we fight 'em?"
I cracked a half-smile. "You've read my mind, Alex. That's why I'm asking about them."
Jojo, ever the diplomat, raised a hand like we were in a damn classroom. "Sorry, but… I gotta ask—what is a Super Nigguh, exactly?"
Then Krystal chimed in, voice as smooth and serious as a sermon. "Wait. What is a niggah? Is that like... a title?"
Jojo added with a thoughtful tilt of his head, "Yeah, you guys have used that term pretty repeatedly."
And just like that, I stopped dead in my tracks. I blinked. Tilted my head. Blinked again. The group behind me nearly bumped into my back from how fast I halted. I slowly turned around and looked at them… really looked at them. Two humans with skin bouncing from warm vanilla to warm ivory just asked me what a nigga was. The sheer absurdity hit me harder than Alex's head kicks.
And I lost it.
I laughed so hard my ribs locked up. My knees nearly gave out as the wheeze built in my throat and exploded into the night air. It wasn't polite laughter either—it was that ugly, soul-cleansing, gut-clenching kind of laugh. That childish irony stole my breath and left my face wet. Everyone else just blinked, confused. Jojo and Krystal looked like they'd accidentally summoned a demon by saying the wrong chant.
Luda leaned in, squinting at me. "You good, foo'?"
Steez, arms crossed and leaning against a busted lamppost, chuckled. "I ain't seen him laugh like that in a long time."
Kimmi's voice piped up with a gentle, amused lilt. "Right? It's been a minute."
I wiped a tear from my eye, exhaled slowly, and shook my head, still grinning. "I'm good, y'all… I'm good." Then I looked back at Jojo and said, "Jojo, it's used to express a unique subgenre of beings. Just a way to separate the double-edge mentality between people."
Jojo blinked, then nodded slowly. "Oh? Okay. Well… I think I get it."
He gave me a look that said, I'm just gonna roll with it, and changed the subject before I could clown him again.
Jojo started talking about the superheroes of the Human race—how the strongest group of warriors in their entire history was known as the Divine Nine. They weren't only skillful protectors; they were pioneers. Led by a powerful sorceress named Alpha Kappa and her husband Alpha Phi, they were the reason the humans even survived their landing on Arcadia 2200 years ago.
"See," he said, "we didn't originate here like y'all Demihumans. We came from a place called Xanadu. Whole other continent. But it didn't take long before we made ourselves known. The Divine Nine led the charge against clans, creatures, and Demihuman strongholds that had been uncontested for centuries. They fought the Legendary Monsters here, some of the worst the world has ever seen."
I gave him his flowers and nodded slowly. "Aight. That's tough."
Krystal added, "And each of the Divine Nine is a Godwalker with an Ultra Skill."
That made my brow twitch.
It reminded me that not everybody with access to magick was rockin' an Ultra Skill. A V-Skill alone could make you elite, a name worth remembering. But when the Prime Realm System itself decided to bless you with an Ultra Skill as well? That meant your mastery had reached a frequency that warped the fabric of reality. It wasn't just power—it was recognition by the universe.
I had multiple, but I kept that part quiet.
The problem with all that fame, though, was simple: exposure. The more people knew your abilities, the easier it was for your enemies to counter them. It was like announcing your battle strategy on a public bulletin board. But that fame came with its own unique kind of fuel—faith. The more folks believed in you, feared you, admired you, spoke your name with conviction… the more your magick grew in strength.
Every whisper of your name built your legend.
That's why so many Godwalkers and Mythwalkers created religions. Not only for reverence, but for relevance as well. Through Crests, they bound their followers to their name, made their myths immortal, and turned themselves into living deities powered by belief.
And me? I was startin' to realize I was already walkin' that path… whether I meant to or not.
The streets had shifted.
Gone were the echoes of panic and burning, now replaced by the grateful sounds of home rebuilding itself. As we jogged through the partially ruined district toward the mayor's office, a few townsfolk who had either stayed hidden or returned early from evacuation routes began to pour out from the shadows of alleys, basements, and mana-sealed safe houses. Some called out my name like it was a lifeline; others just ran toward us in disbelief.
One Light Elf woman, brunette, thin arms, her dress half-torn from rubble, clutched my arm and gasped, "Lord Xiro?! I knew you'd come back!" Her eyes brimmed with tears as she hugged me with a strength that only desperation could fuel.
The funny thing? Even with my new look—height taller, silver eyes brighter than moonlit mercury, dreadlocks now pulled back and longer—they still knew. Despite the transformation, there was no hesitation. They knew their Devil. Not just any Majin, not just some magic-wielding brute. Me. Their hope. Their new Demon Lord.
Their eyes locked on me like I was a miracle made flesh. One boy fell to his knees. A woman kissed my hand and whispered prayers I didn't even recognize. The air tasted like ash and faith.
"Thank you! Thank you!" echoed in every direction, the words growing louder with each block we passed. The Wolfpak and I shared a few looks, each of us low-key touched as the cheers became our soundtrack. Ain't nothing like your people showing love after a bloody battle. It reminded me why I fought the way I did.
By the time we reached the mayor's office—more of a grand estate than anything, with reinforced mana columns and gemstone-inlaid windows—Grandma Fann was already waiting outside like she knew we'd arrive exactly then.
Her smile could've brightened a rainy day. "Xi? Steezy? Alex? Kimmi-boo, you found your brothers?"
Her arms opened wide as her voice cracked with layered emotion. She looked like she wanted to hug all of us at once, and somehow managed it anyway, reaching for Steez and me first, pulling us into the kind of hug that made you forget you'd ever been away.
Kimmi responded softly, her voice laced with affection. "They found me, instead, Grandma."
Luda stepped forward, ever the gentleman despite the chaos we'd walked through. "Good evening, Lady Fann."
She chuckled like he'd just offered her tea and a kingdom. "And Prince Luda is with you. Lovely." Then her smile wavered just a bit. "But I don't see Artamis?"
Her question cut clean. I opened my mouth, but the hesitation showed first. Before I could speak, Steez stepped in, a subtle flicker of something heavy crossing his face. Maybe guilt, maybe worry—maybe just the weight of keeping the story brief.
"He's good," Steez said, quiet but sure. "He left on a journey to find out more about himself. He said he'd get in touch once he made progress."
It hit both me and Grandma Fann at the same time. Not like a slap. Not like a stab. More like a sucker punch we saw coming, but still didn't know how to block.
She took it better than I expected. Maybe it was her V-Skill, [Elder Lords: The Kotomatsukami], doing its thing. With it, she could read souls like diaries—every hidden thought, every contradiction, every truth we tried to deny. Or maybe she was just that kind of grandma. That kind of mother. Either way, she just gave a small sigh and nodded.
"I wondered how long it would be before he ran off," she said gently. "I hope he finds his answers to life."
I didn't speak for a moment. I wanted to be upset, but I couldn't be. That same hunger Artamis had for truth was the same one burning in my own chest. I understood. Deep down, I respected it. I just wish I'd seen him off.
Then her eyes shifted again, scanning behind us.
"I see you have what appears to be humans with you," she said, raising an eyebrow as Jojo and Krystal floated politely back, "but I don't see Vee or Glyn? Or Shukaku, for that matter?"
The silence that followed her question was loud.
Steez glanced at the floor. Kimmi scratched her arm and avoided her gaze. Even I looked away, caught up in a pause too long to be casual.
Before anyone could misread it or press us, I took a breath and answered.
"They're with us," I said, placing a hand over my chest. "I have them in a special dimension within me. Let's go inside so I can release them."
Her face softened again, and the tension that had barely begun to build melted instantly. "Oh, that's good to hear," she said with a warm sigh. "Come on, everyone, this way."
She turned and led us toward the wide double doors of the mayor's estate, the wood carved with symbols of peace treaties, age-old stories, and mana seals from generations before. As they creaked open, I felt the mood shift.
The air inside the estate was cooler, laced with the scent of old cedar and mana-preserved jasmine. The walls pulsed faintly with age-old enchantments—peaceful, but watchful. Forever full of memories.
But I knew—it was only temporary.
Because the adventure I was on was far from over.
Back at what used to be the entrance to Talasi's north gate, the atmosphere still buzzed with a phantom static that kissed the air like invisible sparks. Nicole, Dream Flower, and Ameera finally reached the war-torn boundary, where just an hour earlier, the Saint Disciples and Illuminati got folded, and spiritually body-bagged by the Mikazuki Clan.
The earth wore its trauma. Craters gnashed the dirt open like claw marks from something ancient and angry. Splinters of broken trees jutted out like jagged ribs. Chunks of outer wall were scattered like a toddler's tantrum had taken hold of the skyline. Charred structures leaned like drunk ghosts, their edges still faintly steaming from the aftermath. Blood had painted its own story across stone and foliage—some in messy sprays, others in tight, fatal puddles that had already begun to darken like dried wine.
Dream Flower took a long, slow inhale.
"Ooh," she whispered, eyes fluttering slightly. "You smell that? Charged magitons... still thick in the air."
She wasn't wrong. Magiton particles from all that mana hadn't yet calmed. They hovered like aftershocks, swirling slowly with the weight of discharged intent. The air crackled if you stood still long enough, carrying a cocktail of ozone, burnt bark, and raw spiritual essence. The kind of smell that made your mana itch in your veins.
Nicole, however, wasn't basking in it. She crossed her arms tightly, eyes scanning every inch of carnage. She had seen firsthand what power like this looked like in action—Azumi's rampage had branded her memory with lessons she didn't ask for. To Nicole, this level of destruction didn't impress. It reminded her that when the powerful played, the weak died.
"This place was attacked recently, huh?" Her voice held no question, just a weary conclusion. "Some of the buildings and outer walls are totally leveled."
Dream's response was far less serious.
"Damn!" she groaned. "We missed the Devil of Velonica in action? I knew I shoulda ran faster!"
"Hopefully, this isn't innocent blood," she whispered as the imagery truly dawned on her.
Nicole looked sideways at her, lifting her hand and letting a few residual magitons curl around her fingers like glimmering mist. "With how thick the air is, it must've been one hell of a fight."
Dream gave a dreamy sigh, as if picturing it. "This is exactly why I need him on my team for the tournament. Denise's freedom is practically booked if he joins."
Nicole raised a brow. "How did Babylon get his hands on your Fenrir anyway?"
Dream's expression soured for the first time since they arrived. "I stumbled into a labyrinth while exploring an old shrine dedicated to the Outer Gods. Thought it'd be a quick in-and-out... but it warped time."
Nicole narrowed her eyes. "How long were you gone?"
"Nine month-cycles," Dream muttered bitterly. "When I got back, Denise had been taken. Captured in her sleep, waiting for me to return."
Nicole exhaled sharply. "Damn. How much was he trying to sell her for?"
Dream snorted. "More than I'll ever make in ten lifetimes. Five million gold."
Nicole gave a quiet scoff. "He doesn't even need the money. Babylon's already the richest man in Arcadia."
"I know, right? He's just being spiteful," Dream grumbled. "But that's why I gotta win. The tournament winner gets one wish, no strings attached. Any request, granted by Babylon himself."
"So you want the Devil to win… and use his request to get her back for you?"
Dream turned and grinned. "Bingo. You've got it."
Nicole's arms stayed crossed. "And what does he get out of the deal?"
Dream's smile widened, like she was unveiling a secret. "The Flower Clan relocates to Velonica."
Nicole blinked. "Wait. You mean you're taking Endora's most famous clan… and moving it across the border?"
"I can do that," Dream said with a playful shrug. "I'm the clan leader."
"And you're just gonna give him all that?"
"The Panty Raiders turned Endora into a nightmare for women who actually like men. Velonica's more balanced. Safer. Stronger. If the Devil agrees, we can flourish here."
Nicole nodded slowly. "Let's hope he understands the value of what you're offering."
"If he takes me up on it," Dream said with a wink, "he'll see it firsthand."
Ameera's voice cut in, quiet and somber. "Father…"
Dream glanced down, her voice softening. "Yeah, girlie, he's going to save him, too."
Ameera clenched in her sleep. The air around her was loud with concern for Melech.
Nicole had just begun to nod—when something caught her nostrils. Sharp. Metallic. Familiar.
She turned slightly, walking past a still-drying blood puddle. The scent there was different. Not just spilled blood, but her blood. Kiranna Roselett.
The Blood Witch.
Nicole's lip curled just slightly, her fangs brushing against one another. She licked one, slow and thoughtful.
She knew this scent well. Too well. If Kiranna had been here… then the Panty Raiders were behind this mess. And if that was true? The Devil wouldn't need much convincing to help take them down—and to help rescue Melech.
But for now, Nicole said nothing.
She gave one last glance at the puddle before her boots stepped through it without hesitation. The blood clung to the sole like a promise.
And without missing a beat, she followed Dream and Ameera deeper into the fractured remains of Talasi.
Back at Grandma Fann's house, we'd taken over her living room like it was our own war camp headquarters. The old place still smelled like baked apples and bacon slices, with the slight creak of aged wood beneath every step like the house itself was whispering family secrets. Steez was already in motion, rearranging furniture like it owed him rent. He swept aside an armchair, flipped up the faded ottoman, and cleared space in front of the window. I let him do his thing while I got to work.
I lifted my hand, letting a stream of dark-indigo mana hum quietly to life along my fingertips. It rippled outward like silk unraveling in the air. Devil Mana particles shimmered in geometric patterns as three levitating chairbeds began to form—soft-backed with memory weave cushioning, rimmed in a faint blue glow. They hovered for a moment, then gently settled on the wooden floor. I designed them for maximum comfort, knowing what was coming next.
The humans—Jojo and Krystal—were still locked tight in my magnetic field, suspended upright a few feet off the floor like museum exhibits. I wasn't trying to be rude, but… nah, actually, I was. I wasn't about to take chances. They had just gotten through trying to jump us, and while I doubted they'd try anything in Grandma Fann's house, I liked the feeling of knowing exactly where their magickal pressure was at all times.
Then I felt it—that familiar mental flicker. A soft static buzz tingled across my scalp. Omnia reached out through [Telepathy], her voice laced with subtle excitement.
"Daddy Moonlight, your aunt and both of your mothers are now ready for you to release them from your [Midnight World]."
That made me blink.
"Both of my mothers? What are you talking about, Omnia?"
"Hehehe… you'll see~"
There was that mischievous giggle again. She dropped it like she was winding up for some grand cosmic prank.
"Did she mean Vericka and…? Nah. Wait. What?"
I didn't wait. I rotated my wrist, opened three portal rings just above the glowing chairbeds, and let the dimensional seams peel back with a light snap of thunder. The air grew denser for a second as if the house itself was flooding with anticipation. Then, like stars gently rising through water, three figures emerged from the darkness of my [Midnight World] and floated down to the beds I'd made for them.
First was [Lady Red: Billie Holiday]—still regal, still fierce, still looking like she'd slap a god if he disrespected her.
Next came Aunt Glynis… and then the final figure: Vericka.
Billie blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. "Where are we now? Wait… I know this place…"
Glynis exhaled softly, her lips curling into a fond smile. "Mom's house. We're home."
That's when Alex broke. The boy didn't even say a word. His whole face lit up like a kid on Starfall Eve, and he launched himself straight into Glynis' arms.
"Momma!"
She caught him with practiced ease, her arms wrapping around him as she let out a quiet laugh that cracked from surprise. She kissed the top of his forehead and held him like she hadn't in years.
Meanwhile, Vericka's eyes scanned the room. They landed on me.
"Moonlight?"
I took a step forward, unsure whether my brain was short-circuiting or if her voice had just changed. "Wait… Mom? Is that you?"
Kimmi stood by my side, eyes narrowed in confusion. "Momma? Why does she look different?"
And that was the question. Because… she did.
Vericka's appearance had transformed. Her skin now held a luminous, richer brown tone, soft and glowing like cocoa dusted with starlight. Her eyes—once an odd pairing of heterochromic jade and frost—were now a uniform hazel green, gentle but piercing. Her hair had completely shifted. The black with crimson streaks was gone, replaced with golden blonde dreadlocks that cascaded down her shoulders like morning light.
Her new form didn't erase the old memories—it just added another layer. A softer one. Like looking at a painting I'd only ever seen in charcoal, now painted in full light.
I looked at Billie next. She still had her original look—her mismatched eyes, her frosty white hair with crimson tips, and her peanut butter complexion. Their faces weren't twins, though. Billie's nose was more buttoned, while Vericka's had a delicate slope. Their cheekbones differed, too. But both bore the Vessel Marks—tiny dots just under the corners of their eyes, no bigger than a freckle but humming with divine presence.
That's when Omnia chose to give me the lowdown.
"Your soul transfer was a success. The results caused Vericka to reconstruct the biodoll to the appearance of the spirit's will."
"So… she wanted to look different?"
"The soul reshaped the body to reflect its truest self—Vericka's Guardian Armament took after her Celestial and Fairy side, while her biodoll embraced her Dark Elf heritage." She continued, "Because the biodoll isn't just a body—it's a canvas. And Vericka's soul… chose to paint something new."
Steez broke the silence.
"Ma, how are you feeling?"
That's when it happened.
"I'm fine, now."
Both Billie and Vericka said it. At the same time. In the same tone.
They turned toward each other with slow, suspicious looks, blinking like they'd just heard an echo from their own soul.
I blinked, too, then raised a brow. "Now I see what Omnia means."
Luda leaned forward with a crooked grin. "What's the deal with Sensei Vericka?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Well… long story short? She's now two different people at the same time."
Kimmi frowned. "Huh?"
I nodded at the two women, both standing now, both trying to figure out how not to stare each other down.
"Basically, they're both her. We now have two moms."
And right on cue, like we were in a damn sitcom…
The whole room snapped in unison.
"What?!"
This wasn't just reunion energy. This was cosmic rebirth. And somehow… I was the one who triggered it.
Using [Thought Projection] helped more than I expected. I let my mana thread through the space like fibers of light, weaving shimmering visuals into the air between us, two figures, side by side. One was Vericka. The other, Billie. I guided the display with gentle pulses from my fingers, showing the spiritual corridor that connected them. A golden stream of soul energy flickered back and forth like a heartbeat between dimensions. It painted the truth I couldn't explain with words alone: Vericka's soul, somehow, powered both her Guardian Summon and her biodoll. One spirit, two lives. The corridor between them was stable, for now.
Everyone watched in quiet awe, eyes locked on the projection. The flicker of understanding dawned slowly across each face, but not all of them were focused on the science of soul division.
Glynis wasn't watching at all.
Her eyes were glossy, the corners rimmed red. Her expression had been stuck in the same grim downturn since the moment she stepped through the portal. She wasn't processing this like the others. She was still back there—in that first wave of destruction, reliving the horror that kicked off everything.
And I knew right then… it was time to rip the bandage off.
"Now," I started, forcing the word out like it burned my tongue, "for the bad news."
Fann's brow furrowed immediately. "Bad news? What do you mean, grandson?"
Before I could answer, Alex stepped forward, a spark of hope behind his tired eyes.
"Yo, before all that, can we go look for my Pops? I haven't seen him at all during any of this."
My chest sank.
"Yeah…" I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze not to drop. "That's the bad news."
The words hit like a hammer.
"What? Bro, no… Don't joke around like that, Xi."
"Alex… I'm sorry."
His fists clenched. "No. Stop. I don't believe you. Just stop it!"
Glynis, barely holding herself together, spoke before I could reply. "He's telling the truth, son. He's gone."
Alex turned to her, desperate. "Mom, what do you mean he's gone? How?"
Her voice cracked. "He was killed at the beginning of the town raid."
There was a beat of silence so loud it rang in my ears.
Alex's whole posture shifted. His breathing turned sharp. "The humans killed him?!"
His head snapped around, eyes locking onto Jojo and Krystal, still floating in my containment field. In an instant, mana leaked from his irises—deep scarlet flaring across the whites of his eyes like ink dropped into water. His spiritual pressure surged, sharp and raw.
"No," Glynis said quickly, stepping between him and the targets. "It was an Imp Woman. She came here with that Soleil boy. She ambushed him before the fighting fully started. No warning. Just blood."
Alex blinked, rage momentarily confused. "Soleil? Beau Soleil?"
Steez stepped up beside me, voice steady. "I know who she's talking about. I saw them both. They were here before they ran off."
Alex turned toward him now. "You let them escape?"
"Chill, fam," Steez replied, hands raised. "I stole her glasses. We can track her mana signature, too. Remember?"
Alex's jaw tightened. "But you let them escape, bro?"
"Alex," I said, stepping between them now, "relax. There was no way he could have known the Imp was the one behind his death. The fact that we can chase her now? That's better than nothing at all. Don't get blinded by your sorrow."
He stared at me, hurt stretching his voice thin. "My sorrow? How can you say that? You saved your mother."
"Yeah, stupid." I jabbed a thumb toward his side. "And if you pay attention to the woman beside you—YOUR mother, too."
Aunt Glynis lowered her eyes, the weight of surviving gripping her more with those words.
Vericka touched my arm gently, her voice soft. "Xiro. That's enough, hunni."
That brought the whole room down to silence.
It was like the air thickened with mourning—one heavy, invisible wave that soaked into our bones. I hadn't felt that kind of inner pain since the morning I fought Taurus. That deep, unshakable hollowness. I couldn't joke. I couldn't move. The weight of Alex's heartbreak sat on my chest like concrete.
And maybe that was the point.
Maybe I wasn't supposed to speak. Maybe there was nothing left to say.
He stood there for a long moment. Long enough that I saw the pride in him start to collapse. Then, finally, he turned for the door.
"I need to get some air."
He didn't slam the door. Didn't scream. But that quiet walk out? That cut deeper.
I knew in that moment, with the flicker of his mana signature, his pain had overtaken his logic. And when a Mikazuki's passion runs wild… a crashout ain't too far behind.
[End of Chapter]
[1] April on Earth