The streets of the Common Realm stretched wider the further they went, lined with stalls and rough-cut stone houses. Smoke from cheap forges curled into the air, and the noise of haggling merchants mixed with the sharp laughter of thieves who had made their living off the weak.
Kairo's ragged cloak dragged faintly in the dust, his crimson eyes darting, observing without expression. Igron walked beside him, tall and slim, his disguised form blending easily with the crowd. He glanced sideways at Kairo and muttered, low enough that no one else could hear.
"You really should learn better magic."
Kairo's head turned slightly. His voice was even, cold. "I survived Hell without it."
"That was Hell," Igron replied, tone sharper. "Here, things are different. You're half demon now — your mana isn't just large, it's absurd. It leaks. Everyone around us feels it, even if they don't understand why. Strong people will notice. And once they do…" His lips curved into a grim smile. "You'll paint a target on your own back."
Kairo's gaze narrowed. "…Then explain."
Igron raised one long hand as though sculpting the air. "Three things matter in magic: Control, Conversion, and Release.
Control is keeping your mana from drowning you.
Conversion is bending that mana into form — fire, lightning, barriers, illusions.
Release is letting it out without killing yourself in the process."
As he spoke, his voice grew like a teacher's, precise and steady. "For a human, mana is a stream. For a mage, maybe a river. For demons…" His pale eyes gleamed faintly. "It's an ocean. And you—" He stopped, staring at Kairo. "Yours is a tide without shore. Endless. Dangerous."
Kairo's steps slowed. His eyes unfocused, vision swimming.
The square, the noise, the crowd — all of it dissolved.
A memory surged forward. Lucifer's voice, calm and absolute, echoing in the black of Hell:
"From this moment, you are no longer mortal alone. You will walk as half demon. Power will cling to you like chains, and eternity will never let go."
The words reverberated in his skull. He remembered the searing pain, the taste of blood, the way the world itself had bent beneath that truth.
"—Kairo."
Igron's hand pressed his shoulder, dragging him back. The market sounds slammed into his ears again. His eyes blinked, returning to the present.
"You zoned out," Igron said flatly. His sharp gaze searched Kairo's. "What happened?"
Kairo shook his head once. "…Sorry."
Igron studied him a moment longer but didn't pry. He simply continued, walking forward, his tone resuming its measured explanation. "The first thing you must learn is containment. With your presence, even when you stand still, the world knows you're there. You must learn to breathe without drowning others in that tide."
Kairo walked beside him in silence, the faintest flicker of thought lingering behind his crimson eyes.
The two figures drifted into the distance, swallowed by the streets of the Common Realm — teacher and student, demon and mortal, their path stretching toward a world that had no idea what kind of storm had just stepped into it.