5th Day of 1st Fire Cycle, 2000 g.c.
The sixty-eighth floor had gone quiet in the corridor outside the concert hall. Lynnette Judas stood alone with the low hum of the bass still pulsing faintly through the walls. The distant beat rattled the Datura flowers in the tall crystal vase beside her, their trumpet-shaped petals glowing pale blue under the low lighting. She finished the last sip of her red wine, the liquid catching the light like spilled blood, and placed the glass on the stand next to the flowers. Behind her, laughter and chaos bled faintly from the party—voices slurred from the drugs and freedom being passed around. The hallway, blessedly still, gave her the first moment to think clearly all night.
Her brow furrowed as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her mind circling back to what she'd just heard inside. The Primal Witch's words wouldn't stop replaying—stories of the "Devil King of Velonica," a Demihuman with a lineage that should've been impossible. A child of Vericka Mikazuki, the Crimson Lady. That name alone could silence a room full of generals.
To humans, the Crimson Lady was myth and nightmare made flesh. A Legendary Monster who turned entire armies into dust and vanished without a trace.
Lynnette's chest tightened with an old, familiar emotion—envy wrapped in awe.
"To think the Crimson Lady had a child stronger than her..." The thought tasted like iron in her mouth. "Mother always said that woman handed her the worst defeat of her life."
She took a few steps forward, heels soft against the velvet carpet, her finger resting thoughtfully against her chin. The glow of the Datura reflected faintly in her green eyes.
"The way the Primal Witch spoke of him…" she murmured under her breath. "Reverence and fear. Like a priest whispering an Archon's name."
Her lips twitched into something between a smirk and a frown. "How could someone that strong go unnoticed by me?"
The idea that an unknown Demihuman could walk freely, untouched, unchecked—stronger than the Lady of Crimson—made her stomach twist. Uncontrolled power like that didn't belong in the shadows, she believed.
"I wonder…" Her voice softened into the quiet. "If I defeated the son of Crimson Lady… would that make me greater than Mother?"
A voice answered from behind her, gravel-edged and calm. "The great Lady Delta Sigma was a powerhouse on the battlefield. Few can claim a victory over her."
She turned slightly, her expression easing when she recognized the man. "Hassan?"
He stepped into view, tall and deliberate, his fox mask catching the dim light from the hanging sconces.
"But if the Crimson Lady's child truly surpasses her," he said, "then yes... slaying him would carve your name into Human History itself."
Lynnette folded her arms, eyes narrowing in quiet challenge. "Outside of the Dragon Lord, these 'strong men' rarely live up to their legend."
"Are you thinking of seeking the Oni with the indigo horns?" Hassan's tone carried a note of warning. "Then take some advice—fight hard. Only one Demon Lord has ever fallen to humanity."
"Really?" Her brow arched. "I thought the Divine Nine killed two of the four."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "That's the lie they fed the public after the Crimson Lady and the Kingdom of Braye stopped the Human Alliance from enslaving the Elves after their civil war."
Her frown deepened. "Why would they lie about that?"
"The defeat was too humiliating," he said, pulling a cigarette from his coat. The flint sparked, briefly lighting his mask from below. "But they recovered the body of Demon Lord Kneon Sky, and the Slime Demon Lord vanished. The Alliance needed something to reassure the people before the Peace Treaty was signed. So they rewrote the story to make it sound like we were in control."
Lynnette's jaw tightened. Control. Always the illusion her mother fought for—and lost.
"Explains why Queen Serafina never advanced into East Velonica," Lynnette mused. "Afraid of waking the Crimson Lady again."
Hassan took a drag, smoke curling like gray ribbons through the cold air.
"I have a question," she said. "Do you believe the Oni is as strong as the witch made him sound?"
He exhaled slowly through his nose, amber eyes cutting toward her. "I don't know. But I can't dismiss her fear, either. Witches don't tremble without reason."
"That kind of power," she said quietly, "could make him a threat to the Kingdom of Madness. A new Demon Lord could reignite the war, undoing the Treaty entirely."
"Then I hope the witch spoke truth," Hassan replied, flicking ash into a nearby pot. "Because when that peace ends, our crusade continues. The word of Goddess Laniakea must reach every corner of Gaia."
She turned to face him fully now, curiosity in her tone. "I didn't think you disliked Demihumans that much. I heard King Babylon will even allow them to fight in the arena this summer."
"That's true," he said. "The citizens pay well to see humans prove superiority over our beastly cousins. Private fights are already making nobles rich."
"Generational fear," she muttered, "and hatred too stubborn to die."
Hassan tilted his head. "Tell me, Lynnette. After working with their leaders… how do you view the ones called Sociovores?"
She hesitated, eyes wandering toward the faint pulse of light through the concert door. "I respect the strong ones," she said finally. "A few M-Cees I've met had discipline, even grace. But… I can't say I trust them. What about you?"
"I trust them as far as I can smell them," he said flatly. "They're clever beasts mimicking civilization. They must be ruled, or they'll consume everything again."
She gave him a side glance. "So says the Book of the Endless Skies. Still holding strong to your faith, I see."
"As one should. Faith doesn't make us supreme, Lynnette. It only reminds us why we must be."
"Then tell me," she said, brushing past him slightly, "are you planning to challenge the Oni yourself?"
He tapped his cigarette. "That depends. First, I must send word to Babylonia. For now, I observe."
"I think I'll go down," she said. "Everyone's gotten me too curious. I need to see him for myself."
"You're taking the witch's advice then? Waiting for him on the fortieth floor?"
"Not quite." She smiled faintly. "I ran into the Harlequin Witch earlier—Azumi. She invited me to watch her fight a devil. Now I know who she meant."
Hassan chuckled, the sound low and scratchy. He dropped his cigarette into the empty wine glass with a soft hiss. "The most chaotic of the Panty Raiders, and their strongest. Keep your wits about you." He gave a small, courteous bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me… business calls."
"Clear skies, Hassan."
"Open skies to you, sister in faith."
He walked down the hall with slow, confident steps, the scent of burnt tobacco trailing behind him.
Lynnette lingered there, staring at the glowing flowers, thoughts swimming. Human supremacy. Divine right. Strength as proof of worth. Her entire life had been shaped by those teachings. Yet… she hadn't met too many Demihumans who held unbeatable strength; too many fell to her blade to challenge that clean divide.
"If humans don't rule this world already," she thought, "why am I still searching for someone stronger?"
"Maybe this Oni will show me the answer mother never could. Maybe he'll prove that humanity still has a ceiling left to break."
She inhaled deeply, exhaled through her nose, and straightened her back.
"Now…" she murmured, glancing down the branching hallways, "where was that special elevator Hassan showed me earlier?"
The thought of seeing me—the Devil King of Velonica—thrilled her chest like forbidden music. For the first time in years, she felt something close to wonder.
The light above flickered once as if the building itself had heard her. Then she started walking, the sound of her heels fading into the soft hum of the floor's quiet.
Meanwhile, on the thirty-fourth floor of the Sycamore Tree, the scene was a depressing hell given shape. The air itself carried weight—thick, humid, reeking of sweat, blood, and something darker: the rot of desperation. The metallic stench of iron mingled with the cloying scent of pheromones. Every breath burned. Cries, low murmurs, and the animal rasp of chains scraping magisteel echoed endlessly through the concrete halls.
Cement and magisteel formed every surface, damp and cold beneath the faint blue flicker of mana crystals that hung from the ceilings. Their glow cast ghostly shadows over the prisoners' faces, leaving eyes hollow and glistening. The cells were small, boxed-in cages with no privacy—just a pile of straw for bedding, a blanket too thin to keep the cold away, and a crude hole in the floor serving as a toilet.
Inside those cages were what was left of the Velonican Wolvens—what was left of the pride and power of their kind. Some were still in human shape, the others in beast, their claws dull and cracked from clawing at the bars. The rest were other races—Dark Elves with matted silver hair, Dwarves with broken noses and swollen hands, all stripped bare of everything but the bruises that marked their humiliation.
You could still hear the dying prayers vibrating in the air — so small, so pitiful, like the last gasps of fading faith.
"…Creator above… deliver us…"
"…forgive us for our weakness…"
The heavy silence broke when a section of the back wall hissed and parted, revealing a hidden elevator lined with magisteel plating and golden veins of mana running through its edges. From within stepped Kiranna Rosalett.
Her heels—lime-green, sharp, and loud—clicked in perfect rhythm as she walked, every step announcing a predator's arrival. Her blonde hair swung behind her as she adjusted the reflective glasses she'd finally replaced after Steez's theft. The Blood Imp wasn't here for play. Every movement of her hips, every sway of her tail, was sharp and deliberate.
"A shame so many of these mutts died last month-cycle," she thought, twirling the sheathed dagger across her palm like it was a toy. "I could've used them all for fodder."
Her grin widened, sharp teeth glinting behind red lips.
"The Devil won't be quick to kill his own countrymen. That'll give me the opening I need to use this little toy Orion left behind." She brushed her thumb across the hilt of the dagger. "If that bastard was right, one cut will disable skill usage entirely. It better work."
The sound of her boots echoed as she entered the main holding chamber. Immediately, the men inside reacted like beasts sensing a scent of prey. Dozens of hands shot out between the bars, voices growling, pleading, and begging in broken, desperate tones.
"Please—take me!"
"Let me serve, mistress—just once!"
"Let me out! I'll give you everything!"
Their eyes were wide and glassy, pupils dilated. The toxins in their "water" had done their work. Sweat ran down their chests, and their tongues flicked across dry lips as if thirst could be quenched by her body alone. The sound of their chains rattling filled the air like wind chimes in a madhouse.
Kiranna didn't so much as glance at them. Her tail swayed lazily as she moved past one cell after another, her attention fixed on the farthest door at the back of the hall.
"Luvina was right," she thought, smirking. "Giving them only water mixed with aphrodisiacs keeps their minds soft and easy to control. Pathetic gender. Always ruled by lust."
From the last cell came the faintest sound—a low, broken voice singing a half-remembered hymn.
"…Take me away from this horrible dream… hear the cries of your creation… please bring our salvation…"
She tilted her head, amused. "Well, well, doggo brothers," she purred, voice echoing off the stone. "It's time for you two to become useful."
Inside, two Wolvens lay chained. One was a brown-furred brute with a missing blue eye and a chest wound still leaking dark blood—Melech Una. He was barely conscious, his breathing ragged, every rise of his chest a struggle. Across from him was a gray-furred Wolven with wild golden eyes and clenched teeth—Roman Una.
Roman turned his head toward her, glaring. "You stupid witches never learn. I'm not giving you anything until you get my brother treated."
Kiranna's gaze slid over him, then down to the untouched bowl of water sitting in the corner. "Ungrateful mutt," she said softly, almost playfully. "We gave you water. You haven't even touched it."
He sneered. "Like I'd drink something that reeks of poison."
She laughed—a high, mocking sound that filled the corridor. "Oh? Afraid it'll make your little red rocket launch? You're giving small dick energy, pup. Take what we give you, and we might be more generous."
His claws scraped the floor. "You... bitch."
Her smile sharpened. "Anyway, I need your body for something else now."
"I don't care what you need," he growled. "I won't do anything you ask."
She reached out and pulled the cell door open with a hiss. The hinges screamed. As she stepped inside, the mana in the air trembled—red light pulsing faintly around her hands.
"Who said anything about asking?" she said quietly. "Dumb dog. Even your dying brother's about to be useful."
Roman's ears flattened. "You can't. Forcing him to move will kill him!"
"And?" she said, smiling sweetly. "You're already dead to me."
Her nails lengthened and began to glow crimson as her Bio Mana surged, swirling like smoke. The air thickened and vibrated as the magitons inside Roman's blood began to stir. His muscles tensed involuntarily. Veins bulged against his skin. He gasped, his claws scraping at his own chest as his body started to move without his command.
"Become a puppet to your fear," she whispered. "[Red Water: Bloody Mary]."
The Vessel Skill flared to life. The scarlet aura spilled from her fingertips like liquid fire, sinking into his veins. Roman's eyes widened in horror as his limbs twisted, his own blood rebelling against him. He fought it, fangs bared, breath ragged.
"I can't give in... for Melech... I have to resist..."
Kiranna's grin widened as she watched the fight drain from his eyes. The pleasure she took from watching his will break was almost obscene—her breath quickened, her chest rising as her nipples pressed visibly against her corset. She bit her lip, savoring every twitch.
"No..." he groaned. "Stop... please... Creator... help us..."
His golden eyes turned toward Melech one last time—one last look filled with wordless sorrow—before the light left them. The world bled red in his vision, and his consciousness fell away.
Kiranna tilted her head, watching him freeze mid-motion. Then she snapped her fingers, and the Wolven stood upright, still as a corpse, breathing shallowly.
"Perfect," she purred. "Now you're mine."
She turned to the other brother. Melech's body barely moved, but the flicker of life in him gave her just enough to work with. "Guess I'll have to keep you alive myself," she muttered. "Pathetic, needing me to circulate your blood for you."
She extended her power again, threads of scarlet energy slithering from her fingertips into Melech's chest. His body jerked once, then went still. Both brothers now stood under her thrall—motionless, breathing only when she allowed it.
Kiranna laughed softly to herself. "Two wolves for the price of one," she said. "With these two and the rest of the prisoners, I'll have all the mana I need." She flicked her tail, the spade tip slapping against the floor with a soft crack.
Reaching into her bra armor, she retrieved a small vial of glowing teal, shimmering liquid, and a pouch of iridescent pills. "Cultivation Pills, Telepuddle Vial…" she murmured. "And an artifact that can cut skill usage clean off. Oh yes, this will do nicely."
She adjusted her glasses with a manic grin, her reflection gleaming in the lenses. "Once I stab him and cancel his abilities, I'll control his blood from the inside out. I'll make the Devil kneel and lick my feet before I kill him."
Her laughter echoed through the prison hall like the toll of a funeral bell.
And like that, the top name on my revenge list was already setting her trap, thinking she'd found a way to defeat the new Devil King.
At least… that's what she believed. She never noticed the faint quiver in the mana around her. That fate itself was holding its breath, waiting for the Devil she mocked to arrive.
Where was I? Well, my shortcut portal didn't work out like it should have. Instead of dropping the whole squad where I aimed, I ended up about three floors lower as my indigo spiral ripped open midair, still crackling with streaks of crimson lightning that popped like angry sparks. It spat out only Luda and me before collapsing shut, leaving the smell of ozone behind.
The place we landed in looked like some stock-ass dungeon straight out of a low-budget RPG: rough cobblestone walls, dripping with condensation; narrow corridors lined with flickering orange flames. You know, that kind of shit. The ground was uneven, cracked, and damp underfoot. The smell hit first—rot and wet moss, with a metallic aftertaste that made my tongue itch. There wasn't even anything around to explain the stench. No corpses, no mold, no open sewage. Just... trash ass vibes.
"Whoever designed this place needs to be fired and castrated," I muttered, brushing dust off my bioarmor. "Two outta ten, tops."
Luda scanned the hallway, emerald eyes sharp as ever, while he tugged his shinobi mask up to cover his nose. "Did we make it? Where is everyone else?"
"No. This is wrong." I frowned, feeling the residual static of the portal on my skin. "Something interfered with my spell."
I called on [Sage Wisdom], letting the memory of the teleportation replay behind my eyelids. The Spatial Mana trail still shimmered faintly in the air like a ghost. While I was sorting through the fragments, [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s calm voice filtered through my thoughts, carrying that smooth, cold tone he always had.
"Master, the Sycamore Tree itself rerouted the teleportation."
I exhaled and looked at Luda. "Yeah, that's what I thought. The damn tree altered my hyperspace jump."
He blinked, staring. "Nigga, what? The tree is alive or something?"
I shrugged. "Well, my nigga, all trees are alive."
He gave me the kind of look that only meant one thing—pure disbelief. "Xi, shut up. You know what I meant. How does a damn tree have enough power to overwrite your magick?"
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] decided to answer for me, his voice sliding out of my mouth like an overlay of my own. "The Sycamore Tree possesses [Absolute Spacetime Manipulation]. Its power originates from a Soul Core nested within."
Luda's eyes widened. "The hell happened to your voice?"
I laughed, knowing exactly how unsettling that sounded. "That was my V-Skill, Tsukuyomi. I've learned how to let them talk through me ever since I synced a bit with my other one, Belial."
He folded his arms. "Man, I can't even get mine to say more than two sentences at a time. And what do you mean by synced?"
"Some kind of side effect from an artifact called Death's Mask. It let me merge mentally with Belial for a while—even gave me a power boost, but I was way more reckless. Almost felt like I was using Trance."
He tilted his head. "Think we could weaponize it?"
"Probably," I said, grinning, "but I'm not trying that again anytime soon. Fusing with Belial is stressful."
He snorted. "Ahh, stop being a little bitch."
Our laughter echoed down the empty corridor, bouncing off wet stone. For a moment, the place didn't feel so dead—just two brothers cracking jokes in a dungeon that should've terrified anyone else. But we weren't just anyone. We were the dangerous things here that needed to be feared.
I wiped my eyes, still chuckling. "Anyway nigga, since the tree hijacked my hyperspace, I gotta alter the plan. From my [Dimensional Detection], this is Floor Thirty-One. Everyone else got scattered somewhere above us."
Luda glanced around, adjusting his gloves. "So the trees have souls, huh? Guess I owe Kimmi an apology for stepping on her flowers once."
"You monster," I said flatly.
"It was an accident!"
"Yeah, yeah. Plead your case in court." I exhaled and reached out with my mind. "I gotta contact Omnia, relay some instructions. Give me a moment."
"Take your time. I'll look around."
Luda started down the corridor, his boots silent even on the wet stone. After about twenty yards, he froze. A low vibration, like a swarm of bees humming under the floor, trembled in the air. He immediately summoned a barrier, a faint golden shimmer flashing once before turning transparent.
The air ahead pulsed with low, wet breathing — not human, not steady — just a strong hunger wearing lungs.
Cautiously, he peered around the corner—then his shoulders stiffened.
The hall ahead opened into a massive chamber crawling with movement. Hundreds of Watchers hunched over piles of corpses, tearing into flesh. The smell hit first—rotting meat and something metallic that stung the nose. The sound followed: a wet, rhythmic tearing, bones cracking between teeth.
Each Watcher looked like a nightmare drawn in half-light—mummified gray skin stretched over mechanical frames, their limbs jointed wrong, twitching with insect precision. Their horns curved forward around elongated faces, their folded wings gray-white and filthy. They looked like failed angels that the Heavens forgot.
He muttered under his breath, "Well, I'll be damned. Guess those reports about the Panty Raiders commanding Watchers were true. Looks like a small army."
A tiny bit of debris slid off the ceiling and struck his barrier, sparking faintly. Luda's eyes snapped upward. One of the creatures clung to the ceiling like a spider, head twisted unnaturally to stare down at him. Its sickly green eyes burned like dying fireflies.
Luda pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Really? You creatures remind me of cockroaches."
In the blink of an eye, Luda vanished from the floor and reappeared above it mid-leap. Gravity didn't get the memo. He stomped the back of the creature's skull on the way down, smashing it into the stone with enough force to make the ground quake. The impact exploded its head like an overripe fruit, splattering dark blue blood across the walls and his boots.
That sound—wet, heavy, final—made every other Watcher freeze, then turn as one. Their horns began to glow neon green, throats vibrating with a hive's worth of screams.
The sight was straight out of a horror story. Hundreds of those winged corpses jerked upright in unison, eyes flickering like glitching lights. But Luda? He just wiped a bit of brain matter from his trench coat.
"The audacity of these pests," he muttered. "They grow bold in groups."
His next move was pure theater. One stomp cracked the ground, flipping a massive chunk of the floor loose. He kicked it like a soccer ball, sending the slab hurtling toward the center of the mob. Halfway through its flight, he conjured a glowing chain whip made of Solar Mana and lashed it forward, hooking the flying rock. The chain yanked taut, dragging him behind it like a rocket at supersonic speed.
The impact tore through the horde as bodies burst apart in flashes of blue ichor. Still in motion, Luda summoned the Meridian Goddess into his other hand, the double-headed axe igniting in radiant fire. He spun like a comet, cutting through the mob as his Solar Mana burned trails through the air.
"Art of Braye: Chopped and Screwed!"
His voice echoed over the chaos as arcs of plasma-coated steel carved perfect rings of light through the darkness. Limbs flew. Wings burned. Watchers fell in pieces, sliced mid-motion, their screams cut short by fire and pressure. The dungeon lit up like a solar flare in a storm of blood.
The slab finally collided with the far wall, detonating in a shower of rock and gore. The impact crushed another wave of Watchers, painting the wall in cobalt and gray mush. Luda landed gracefully atop the broken stone, standing sideways like gravity was just a rumor.
When the dust cleared, silence reclaimed the hall. Hundreds of Watchers lay scattered in twitching heaps, blood pooling in the cracks of the floor.
Luda exhaled, spinning the axe once before it dissolved back into motes of light. "Scum," he muttered.
He slid his hands into his pockets and started walking toward the far end of the room. The hole he'd made opened into a smaller chamber glowing faintly with natural light. He squinted, realizing the shimmer came from a patch of green. Plants.
Before he could step closer, my voice echoed from behind him. "Here you are. And damn, you really left a mess. Wait—are those pieces of Watchers mixed in? Oh shit, that one just twitched."
He glanced over his shoulder. "Don't worry about them. Come look at this."
I stepped up beside him, following his line of sight into the glowing chamber. The faint, sweet scent of earth and sap filled the air.
"You see that? Is that what I think it is?" he asked.
I focused on the plant he pointed to—and grinned. The memory hit instantly. Back when we were teenagers training for the Labyrinth, Luda and I stumbled across the same type of plant deep in the Janell Forest: a single stem with a glimmering nugget of Gaian-grown hemp. The Elysian Tree.
And me, being the dumbass stoner from Earth that I was, showed the royal how to roll it up and smoke it. Got my man high for the first time in his royal life. We laughed for hours—right up until my [Toxic Nullification] kicked in and instantly sobered me. I spent the rest of the night yelling at [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] for killing my buzz.
"My nigga," I said, smiling wide, "looks like you've found some real treasure."
We both smirked at the same time, knuckles meeting in a lazy no-look dap as we walked into the light. Even through his mask, I knew he was grinning.
After all, we were two sides of the same coin. Two real niggas—still greedy and prideful, still finding fun in the middle of chaos and sorrow.
[End of Chapter]
[Start of the Masquerade After Party Arc]