The forest whispered as they entered it, an oppressive murmur that seemed to come from every gnarled root, every warped tree, and every direction but forward.
Riser walked ahead, his crimson cloak billowing slightly despite the stagnant air. The forest was a leyline wildland, grown atop rivers of demonic energy, untamed, unstable, and steeped in malevolence.
It hated them. He could feel it.
"It's like it's mocking us," Riser murmured, brushing his fingers over a tree whose bark twitched slightly in response. "Mocking us for trespassing… or daring to believe we're in control."
Yubellana, her violet hair glowing faintly in the gloom, stayed close at his side. Her eyes flicked nervously through the trees.
"Are you sure we shouldn't go to your uncle's camp first?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "No. There's something here. A ripple. A warping in the air. I feel… devouring intent. Something's wrong."
They pressed deeper into the forest, past stone roots shaped like twisted skulls and shadowy thickets that seemed to shift behind their backs. Riser's senses, far sharper than any middle-class devil should possess, prickled as faint pulses of wild demonic energy flickered at the edge of his awareness.
Hours passed in the warped dusk. And then, he stopped.
Ahead, in a clearing ringed by black thorns and spiraling ley-crystals, a battle raged.
A towering minotaur with six muscular arms, three horned heads, and eyes that danced with malice fought a group of eleven devils. Their clothes bore noble sigils, their auras flickering with desperation.
Among them, one figure stood out.
A blonde-haired woman in elegant combat attire, commanding the team with sharp, tired gestures. Her golden aura flickered with the signature flame of the Phenex bloodline.
"Seorin," Riser whispered. "Uncle Ryzephar's daughter."
She was older than him by a decade, but she moved like a woman born to fire.
Still, she was cornered. And when the minotaur feinted left and lunged right, its wicked axe sweeping toward her neck, Riser moved.
He blurred forward, suppressing his energy as only he could, the way he'd been training since his awakening.
His strike landed cleanly at the base of the creature's thick neck. Not fatal. Not even near it.
But enough to shift the monster's focus.
The minotaur staggered slightly, confused.
And then it turned its many heads and roared.
Riser met its eyes and grinned.
"Boo."
The creature lunged, and Riser danced backward. He wasn't foolish. He couldn't win head-on. But he wasn't here to win.
He was here to stall.
The minotaur's attacks were brutal, raw power fueled by high-class rage. Each strike shook the ground, cracked trees, and split the earth. Riser dodged as best he could, slipping through patterns of destruction like a flickering flame.
He remembered every lesson, every painful sparring match with his older brother, every cruel correction from his tutor.
"Stay alive."
Still, the power difference was staggering.
A punch landed. He blocked it, but was sent flying, crashing through tree after tree. When he stopped tumbling, he was barely conscious and armless.
His limbs were already regrowing.
The pain was suffocating.
And yet, he laughed.
Because the plan was working.
The minotaur loomed over him, lifting him by the neck with two grotesque hands. Its other arms flexed, preparing to rip him apart.
But Riser smiled and looked past the beast.
"You've already lost," he whispered.
The minotaur turned
just in time to see Yubellana, her entire body glowing like a star about to go supernova.
And then:
BOOM.
The forest exploded in light and fire.
A crater the size of a stadium was carved into the earth. Trees vaporized. Shadows screamed. The air itself rippled with power.
When the smoke cleared, the battlefield was a scar of ash and glass.
From the molten dirt, two figures rose.
Riser, burnt, limbless, half his face gone, intestines dangling from his ruined torso, stood grinning, fire flickering in his one remaining eye.
The minotaur, far more intact, still reeled, burnt, broken, its hide split and steaming.
The explosion had worked. Not because it killed, but because it wounded.
And now, the others moved.
Seorin and her team surged forward with everything they had. Magical formations flared, swords struck, lightning crackled. The minotaur roared and lashed out, injuring several, but it was too late.
The collective assault brought it down.
A brutal, final strike from Seorin's flaming blade cut through its chest and it collapsed in a heap of blood and dust.
It was over.
Seorin was the first to run toward him, kneeling beside his now-regenerated form.
"You reckless idiot," she hissed. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
Riser smirked through his ruined clothes and bloody face. "I thought I'd drop in and say hi. Surprise family visit."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the relief. "Are you… okay?"
"I'm always okay," he said, rising. "Takes more than a high-class beast to ruin this hair."
He turned, eyes scanning for Yubellana.
She was kneeling on the ground, exhausted, barely conscious.
He crossed the scorched battlefield and gently picked her up in a princess carry.
She blinked, cheeks flushing bright red. "M-my Lord—"
"You earned it," he said softly. "You burned half the forest for me. I should carry you through a city square."
Seorin was already barking orders to her team, tending to the wounded, checking wards.
"Before more things crawl out," she said sharply. "We need to move. Now."
Riser nodded. The chaotic energy in the air made teleportation impossible. They'd have to move on foot.
As they trudged through the ashen forest, several devils came to thank him.
"A noble risking himself like that," one whispered. "I've never seen it."
"He didn't even hesitate," said another.
Riser didn't bask. He simply nodded.
Seorin walked beside him as they moved toward her father's camp. She glanced sideways.
"We were pulled into this forest," she explained. "Tricked. Enchanted. The minotaur or someone else wanted us dead."
"We lost twelve in the first ambush."
Riser said nothing. He offered no comfort. Death was part of this world.
"We make for the main camp," he said quietly. "Before this cursed land decides to feed again."
And so they marched, past ruined trees, the burnt corpse of a monster, and deeper into the infernal unknown.
Riser Phenex, once a joke of a noble, now a man with fire in his blood and a plan in his eyes.
This was only the beginning.
---------------------------------------
The moon was high and sickly red when Riser finally arrived at the stronghold of his uncle, Ryzephar Phenex. The structure loomed out of the leyline-shadowed hills like a grim crown of stone and obsidian, glowing slightly with warding sigils etched deep into every wall, tower, and parapet.
This was not a palace.
It was a fortress.
A place meant not for comfort, but for survival.
Riser landed lightly at the gates, still carrying Yubellana in his arms, her form slack with exhaustion. Seorin had guided the rest of her wounded subordinates ahead, and now they were being whisked away to the medical halls by the castle's healers and alchemical staff.
As Riser approached the inner courtyard, his uncle was already waiting.
Tall, narrow-eyed, and wrapped in a cloak of gray fire, Ryzephar Phenex was every inch a noble of Ars Goetia, his gaze polite but sharp, his stance like a drawn sword.
"Riser," he greeted, nodding once. "I bid you welcome to our fortress."
Riser inclined his head respectfully. "Uncle."
"I've had quarters prepared for you and your Queen. You should rest tonight. We'll debrief tomorrow morning."
"I appreciate the hospitality."
A silent gesture, and a steward in black and silver livery led Riser down a corridor of volcanic stone and reinforced arches. The air here was cooler than in the southern territories, tainted by the leyline energies, less gentle than the luxury of the main Phenex estate.
Yubellana stirred faintly as he laid her in the bed of their chamber. Riser knelt beside her, pulled a small crystalline vial from his jacket, and uncorked it with care. A single drop of a Phenex tear glowed with golden-white warmth, liquid life itself.
The moment it touched her lips, color returned to her cheeks.
Riser watched her sleep for a moment, brushing a stray strand of purple hair from her brow.
"You did well," he murmured.
Then he retired to his own room. His body ached, but the pain was useful. It reminded him he was still far too weak.
As he lay down on the stiff military bedding, he closed his eyes and mentally replayed the entire battle. Every mistake. Every advantage he'd failed to exploit.
He should have angled left instead of right on that fifth feint. Should have taken the tree line instead of the crater ridge. And Yubellana's explosion, too delayed, nearly too late.
It wasn't enough.
He needed more training. More tools. More control.
Sleep took him soon after.
Riser awoke with the second dawn. The red skies above the northern leyline territory shimmered faintly with demonic radiation.
A servant greeted him promptly, offering a platter of bloodfruit preserves, abyss bread, and eggs cooked over soulfire, a rich, nutritious devil breakfast.
As he ate, he was informed of the debriefing in one hour.
He nodded and dismissed the servant.
Afterward, he checked in on Yubellana. She was still fast asleep, her breathing even, her demonic signature stable.
Good. She needed the rest.
Riser left quietly and began to explore the stronghold. Its halls were reinforced with obsidian runes and alloyed with anti-magical latticework, no decorative excess like the Phenex estate. This place wasn't meant to impress, but to endure.
It had seen attacks. He could feel it in the walls.
Eventually, the meeting bell chimed. Riser made his way to the meeting chamber.
Seven captains had already assembled, seated at a long, circular table of black stone. Their house crests shimmered in subtle color, House Saeros, House Wystel, and others lesser but loyal to House Phenex.
All talk ceased as Riser entered.
His uncle gestured to the seat at his right. "Nephew. Please."
Riser sat with practiced elegance, clasping his hands before him.
Ryzephar rose.
"For the benefit of Lord Riser, who is newly arrived, I will summarize our position," he began, voice calm and sharp like a winter blade. "We are facing what we've designated as a Wolf Tide."
He tapped a rune projection. Glowing red sigils shimmered into a forest outline, dotted with icons of demonic beasts.
"Demonic wolves are not rare. They come in various strains, typically low to mid-class. Dangerous in numbers but predictable."
He turned toward Riser.
"However, these beasts strategize. They attack with feints. They retreat when overextended. They bait and break formations."
A pause. The captains nodded grimly.
"This suggests they are not acting alone. Something or someone is guiding them. And that is the root of our problem."
He flicked his fingers, and a new projection bloomed, mountains, ruined temples, leyline fractures.
"We believe their 'shepherd' may be hiding in the far northeast ridge. Our plan is as follows."
He outlined a new unit: 30 devils.
14 Peak middle-class12 Low middle-class3 Low High-class1 Peak High-class
Elite, mobile, and experienced.
They would be the forward team. Their goal: track the intelligence directing the wolves, uncover its nature, and, if possible, eliminate it.
The captains began proposing names. Volunteers. Trusted agents.
Riser listened, silent. Calculating.
And then, when the list was nearly complete, he raised a hand.
"I volunteer," he said calmly.
The room quieted. A few glances flickered between surprise and concern.
Ryzephar's brows lifted. "Riser, this isn't a controlled exercise. It is very dangerous. You would be under live threat."
"I know."
One of the captains, a gray-haired noble from House Saeros, cleared his throat. "My Lord, with all due respect, this is no place for young heirs. There's no dishonor in allowing others to take this burden."
"I appreciate your concern," Riser replied. "But I am not porcelain. And if I wish to walk among the mighty, I must first crawl through the dirt."
He met his uncle's gaze evenly.
"I will go."
A long pause. Ryzephar studied him, eyes narrowing slightly.
"So be it," he finally said. "You are Phenex. And you walk your own fire."
The rest of the plan proceeded with fewer objections, though tension still hung thick in the air. Once all names were confirmed and strategy agreed upon, the meeting was adjourned.
The captains returned to their posts or their preparation.
Riser remained.
His uncle, as expected, did not move.
Seorin stayed as well, arms folded, her expression half-proud, half-worried.
Ryzephar stepped closer.
"You're serious about this."
"I am."
"You could die."
"I know."
Seorin interjected quietly. "You don't have to prove anything, Riser."
He glanced at her. "I'm not trying to. I just… refuse to be a man who lets his fate be decided by others."
Ryzephar nodded, slowly. "Then I won't stop you. But if something goes wrong, I'll be the one to inform your mother."
"I pity you for that," Riser said, half-grinning.
His uncle smirked. "As do I."
Ryzephar paused again.
"You saved Seorin's life. You have my gratitude, and my debt."
"You don't owe me," Riser said smoothly. "We're family. Besides, she handled herself well. I merely made an opening."
That earned him a snort from Seorin. "You were missing half your body by the end of it."
"And yet, still devastatingly handsome."
Ryzephar chuckled softly. "Go prepare. You leave at sundown."
Riser bowed his head.
"Yes, Uncle."
And with that, he left to ready his weapons, reinforce his wards, and walk willingly into the wild unknown.