What the hell was going on? That was the renowned "Saint of the Far East", one of the few SS-ranked individuals in the entire world—someone who could make even a mighty evil dragon that no S-ranked heroes could damage suffer as though it were being burned alive.
This was the man millions had pinned their hopes on to resolve the current global crisis, and yet—he was screaming.
His cries were so harrowing, so miserable, it made people's scalps go numb.
"Director Suruga!"
"Damn it, we—!"
"EVERYONE, STOP!!"
A voice roared, full of urgency, stopping all the students from Akane Academy who had just been about to rush in for reinforcements. The one who shouted was none other than the academy's principal—Mari Shimon.
She couldn't help the chill running down her spine at the sight of Suruga Andou, an SS-rank powerhouse, held utterly powerless in someone's grip, writhing in agony from the invasion of dark energy.
His power, after all, was the natural counter to darkness. He was the bane of everything corrupted.
Just look at the Icarus dragon, surrounded by overwhelming darkness—didn't Andou suppress it effortlessly with his purifying light?
Sure, such an exertion drained Andou massively, but he had definitely retained at least half of his power.
And yet? The moment he was seized by this sudden figure, not even a full second passed before his purification was completely overwhelmed.
The blackness devoured him like a rising tide, faster and more furious than he could ever hope to cleanse.
Just imagining it sent a shudder through her. That man—who appeared out of nowhere—was terrifying.
Wait… that figure… her intel had mentioned this face before. Wasn't that the demon king of another world, thought to have been destroyed?
Rostar Ignatius.
Why? He was supposed to be gone. Erased. But not only was he still around—he was even stronger?
And how? With that kind of power, why didn't Suruga's spiritual sense detect him?
Others across the world who were monitoring the situation were reacting too. Veterans, S-rank heroes, specialists—every one of them showed signs of disbelief and unease.
SS-rank was no joke. Was Andou just some glorified fraud? Bought his rank or something?
Of course not. Andou was the real deal.
Which meant… this intruder was worse than bad news.
And then, in the next moment, it happened—like tossing out the trash, the mysterious man simply flung Andou aside.
In an instant, the very air around where he passed exploded.
White vapor clouds bloomed out—caused by the extreme speed at which Andou's body broke the sound barrier. The force of his body compressing air created shockwaves, condensing moisture into fine water droplets, like clouds.
Only this wasn't just your average sonic boom. The vapor clouds didn't quickly disperse—they dragged into a long contrail, like the wake of a supersonic jet tearing through the sky.
Everyone watched as a flaming mass crashed into a sloped hill in the distance, exploded it on impact, then bounced across the ground like a stone skipping across a pond, carving out multiple craters before finally coming to a halt.
That blackened figure tumbling to a stop—that scorched, twisted body—was Suruga Andou.
The grotesque burns marring his form weren't caused by magic or flame, but by sheer speed: the ungodly G-forces inflicted on his body and the brutal friction with the air generated enough thermal energy to cook him alive.
An SS-rank individual should've been able to defend against that.
But Andou's body had offered zero resistance.
Either his consciousness was gone—or… he was already dead.
"…Y-you've got to be kidding me."
The trembling voice belonged to a noble-looking woman clad in a blood-red dress, her long, golden hair cascading down to her ankles.
A beauty exuding elegance and power—none other than Vasilisa Yuryevna Mostovaya, chief of the Lucia branch of the White Knights and bearer of the title "Thunder Empress."
Prideful and imperious, she rarely showed any sign of panic.
Even earlier, when her grand entrance was fumbled by that damned dragon, she'd just shrugged it off and taken to observing quietly.
But now? Now she stood barely 50 meters away from Andou's smoldering body—and her whole body trembled.
Her flawless face twisted into a strained, awkward smile as cold sweat beaded on her brow.
Yes, Andou was SS-rank, but she didn't fear him.
Their roles were different—his was more support-oriented, specifically built to counter darkness. In a one-on-one, their fight could go either way.
Still, for him to be utterly annihilated like this?
Her own confidence began to fracture.
Her bright blue eyes were filling with dread, because now—now she remembered who this man was.
That's him.
That thing that suddenly appeared out of nowhere not long ago—the creator of the dragon named Icarus.
But how?
The last time she'd seen him, he was strong—but now? Now he felt entirely different. Not just stronger. Not even threatening.
He was simply…
Gone from her perception.
Like he didn't exist. Like he didn't belong to her world anymore.
No—that wasn't it.
It wasn't that he didn't exist.
It was that he was from a completely different dimension.
And as someone of a lower dimension, she simply couldn't sense him anymore.
A being from another dimension…?
No way…!
Gulp.
Her slender throat moved unnaturally as she swallowed.
Elsewhere…
"What the hell is going on…? I… I purified him that day."
Holy Hero Emilia muttered in disbelief.
She couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. Her divine magic had purged him last time—they'd confirmed it!
And yet here he was again.
Then she realized her hands were trembling.
No—not her hands.
The Holy Sword in her grip… was shaking.
The sword was scared.
It had never done that before.
"Hey… Lucoa… That guy's a monster."
The low, suppressed voice came from the dragon Tohru.
It was the same figure as before—but the feeling he gave off was entirely different.
Last time, she could feel something… human. Emotion, maybe.
But now?
He was utterly silent.
No empathy. No thought. No communication.
Just an empty monstrosity.
Tohru's dragon instincts were screaming—this man was far more dangerous than Icarus.
She was afraid.
For the first time in her life—she felt fear.
So this was the true power of the ancient Demon King from her world?
Was this what he looked like at full strength?
She glanced sideways at Lucoa, who stood beside her, biting her lip, a conflicted expression on her face.
Her lips parted slightly, whispering what sounded like an apology.
"…This just keeps getting more interesting."
A calm voice spoke out—it belonged to a young man with silver hair and icy blue eyes.
Hikami Kyouya.
A wicked smile played across his lips.
But the very next second—his expression froze.
Without a second thought, he did the one thing his instincts screamed at him to do—run.
He had been seen.
He had been noticed.
Just like last time, when he'd made that man his target.
Only this time, the roles had been reversed—now he was the prey.