"Welcome, My Lord."
Epsilon's voice broke the silence. I nodded. She and Belial were kneeling on the damp, cold ground, morning dew clinging to the blades of wild grass around them.
I looked up at the sky. There were no clouds. Just a pale, endless blue. The early morning sunlight felt warm on my cheek.
"It's not snowing today," I said, more as a mumble to myself.
"I requested it, My Lord," Belial's voice came from below. "From Emma. For one week."
"Good," I replied. My gaze shifted to Epsilon.
"Begin."
"Understood." Epsilon rose. Without another word, she walked to the center of the empty plot of land.
"You can get up too," I said to Belial.
"By the way, have you found the person we'll be contacting in China?"
I had never done business before, but I knew you needed connections. It was basic logic.
"I have, My Lord," Belial answered.
"Ever since you gave the order to build the logistics company, I've already found the person we'll be contacting. So, you needn't worry. In this world, there is no human who is not moved by money." He chuckled. A dry sound, like a dead leaf being crushed underfoot.
Money. Or magic. Same difference.
"Belial, I want you to study human technology. Our company will be operating in this field in the beginning."
Belial placed his hand on his chest again. "My Lord, leave it to me. I will surely learn and will not disappoint you."
I walked, approaching Epsilon. Belial followed me. The prints of our shoes marked the wet earth. In the distance, the remnants of the trees destroyed by Lily's magic yesterday were still scattered about, like the bones of giant beasts.
The police hadn't come. This place was indeed good. Far. Hidden. A good place to dump a body.
"Well, Epsilon? Can you build a large enough warehouse here?"
"My Lord, this is a simple matter." Epsilon turned to me, her eyes glinting with confidence.
"I can even create an Earth Dragon using only Alchemy, let alone a mere warehouse."
Hearing that answer, I knew I hadn't made a mistake in choosing Epsilon. I could have used the Undead or other residents of Avanheim to build this warehouse, but that would have taken a considerable amount of time, not as instantaneous as what Epsilon was about to do.
"In that case, you may begin."
At my command, Epsilon placed both her palms on the ground. Instantly, an intricate, blue alchemical circle began to etch itself onto the surface of the earth, emitting a faint glow.
I took a step back. This was the first time I was seeing Alchemy used in the real world.
The blue light from the circle reflected off Epsilon's glasses, making her look like an alien from a cheap sci-fi movie I once watched. She said nothing. Just stood there, her palms pressed against the cold, damp earth.
The ground began to tremble. Not a violent tremor like an earthquake. More like a low hum that vibrated up through the soles of my shoes, tickling my feet.
Belial, standing beside me, crossed his arms. His expression was flat. He was probably used to this sort of thing. For me, it still felt strange.
I saw the ground in front of Epsilon begin to crack. Not ordinary cracks. Lines of blue light snaked out from the alchemical circle, spreading like tree roots beneath the surface.
Then, with a deep, wet crunch, the earth lifted.
It wasn't like it was being pushed from below. It was more like it was being pulled, twisted, and molded by an unseen hand. Chunks of earth and rock the size of cars rose into the air, floating with a slow, weightless motion.
I held my breath.
There was no explosion. No chanted spell. Just the sound of shifting earth and a constant hum of energy.
Epsilon was still silent. Her face was a mask of concentration. Her breath formed thin wisps of vapor in the cold morning air, its rhythm steady. No sign of fatigue. Just focus.
The chunks began to merge in the air. The rough stones smoothed out, their edges softening. The loose soil compacted, turning into something hard and gray like concrete. It all happened in a strange silence.
A giant wall began to form, rising from nothing.
I glanced at Belial. He was still staring straight ahead, as if watching a rather boring news broadcast.
I looked back at Epsilon.
She was breathing a little harder now, her breath misting in the cold air.
The wall continued to grow. Followed by another wall on its side. Then a roof. Everything was formed from the earth and rock that was around us. No nails. No cement. Just remolded matter.
I remembered when I was a kid, playing with clay. Making strange shapes that always fell apart in my hands. This… was like that. But on an impossible scale.
About ten minutes later, the process stopped. The hum of energy faded. The blue light died down.
Before us stood a massive, earth-gray building. A warehouse. No windows, just one giant roll-up door made of metal that also seemed to be crafted from purified rock.
Perfect. Seamless. And it felt very, very old, as if it had been standing there for a hundred years.
Epsilon pulled her hands from the ground. She stood up straight, patting the dust from her gloves. Her face was calm, as if she had just finished watering her plants.
I just stood there, staring at the warehouse.
I walked closer, touching its wall. The surface felt cool and slightly rough, like unsanded concrete. But it was incredibly dense. I knocked on it. The sound was dull and solid.
I thought about my plan. About the containers of iPhones. About Gate magic. About conquering the world.
All of it felt so big and abstract.
But this warehouse… this warehouse was real. I could touch it. I could see its long shadow on the ground.
This was the first step. An ugly, empty building in the middle of a godforsaken forest in Fukushima.
For some reason, I smiled.
"Good work, Epsilon," I said, without turning around.
I heard footsteps approaching.
"My Lord, the building isn't actually finished yet."
Epsilon's voice came from behind me.
I turned. An awkward smile was on her face. It told me I had jumped to a conclusion too quickly.
"Then please, continue," I said. "If you can, make the building out of a material that can absorb heat and is cool enough inside. This building will be used to store fragile electronic goods."
"My Lord, if that's the case, couldn't we just use magic later to regulate the temperature inside?" Epsilon asked, her brow slightly furrowed.
Before I could answer, Belial stepped forward. His flat expression didn't change, but his voice was cold, cutting through the morning air.
"Epsilon."
Just one word. But it was enough to make Epsilon fall silent.
"Lord Arthur doesn't say things like this without reason," Belial continued. "Yes, we could use magic. But if we can design the building from the start to produce the effect we want without magic, what's wrong with that?"
Belial paused for a moment, his gaze now fixed squarely on Epsilon.
"And this is an order from a Supreme Being, the absolute ruler of Felius Castle."
An awkward silence hung between us.
Epsilon bowed her head deeply. "You're right. Forgive me."
"That's enough, get up. Don't kneel," I said, trying to break the tension.
"Continue your work, Epsilon."
Epsilon nodded, still not daring to look at me directly. She returned to her position, placing her palms against the warehouse wall again.
The blue light ignited once more, this time dimmer. I saw the gray surface of the wall begin to ripple, like calm water touched by a pebble. Its color slowly changed. From a dull gray to a pale white, almost like porcelain. The surface became smooth, reflecting the morning sun with a soft sheen.
I didn't know what she was doing, but I could feel a change in the air. The atmosphere around the warehouse felt a little cooler.
Belial was still standing silently beside me, his arms crossed. I glanced at him. He was watching Epsilon, his gaze no longer cold, but more… appraising.
I looked back at the warehouse. I wondered what was happening inside. Was it changing in there too? I was curious. But I just stayed quiet and waited.
The sky was clear. Not a cloud in sight. Just an endless blue. I could hear the sounds of forest insects in the distance, sounds that had been obliterated by Lily's magic yesterday. They were already back. Life goes on.
Epsilon pulled her hands away. This time, she looked more relaxed. The blue light vanished.
"It is done, My Lord," she said, her voice back to normal.
I walked to the wall again, touching it. The surface now felt cool, like touching marble in the morning, even though the sun had started to feel warm.
"Good," I said. "Very good."
Epsilon smiled faintly. A smile of relief.
I looked at the giant metal roll-up door again.
"Belial."
"Yes, My Lord."
"I want you to handle its security mechanism. I want something simple, but secure. No magic. Something mechanical."
Belial nodded. "Understood, My Lord. I will design it."
I looked at the two of them. One demon, one homunculus. Standing in front of a magical warehouse in the middle of a Japanese forest.
A strange situation.
"Alright," I said, breaking the silence. "Our business here is done for now. Epsilon, you may return to Tokyo. Keep Betta and Ayato company."
"What about you, My Lord?" Epsilon asked.
"I'm going to China," I said, looking at the newly finished warehouse. Its white walls reflected the morning sun. It felt cold.
Belial was still silent beside me.
"You're coming with me."
"Understood."
Epsilon stepped forward. Her hand went into her pocket, then came out again. A small red crystal was held between her gloved fingers. She tossed it into the air. A casual motion. Like flipping a coin.
The crystal stopped in mid-air. Spun. Then shattered into light. A pulsating bluish-black orb throbbed where it had been. I could feel the air around it being pulled in.
Epsilon bowed, then stepped into the orb. Vanished.
The portal collapsed. Became a small dot, then disappeared. Leaving only a momentary ripple of heat in the air.
I looked at the empty space where Epsilon had been.
"Don't use the Gate," I said to Belial.
He turned. His eyebrows raised slightly. That was all.
"Use the plane," I continued.
Belial nodded. He took out his phone. His thumb began to move quickly across the screen. I could hear the small, rapid taps. He didn't look at me. Focused on his screen.
I needed a place to sit.
My hand reached out into the thin air beside me. A dark wooden chair materialized from nothing, its legs landing on the wet ground without a sound. I pulled it over and sat down.
I also took out my phone. It felt cold in my hand. I opened an app with a colorful musical note icon. TikTok.
I tried to log in. Typing in my old username. Rian_1356. The password… I still remembered.
The screen loaded. Then stopped.
A red text appeared.
User not found.
I stared at the text. Red. It felt like it was stabbing my eyes.
I sighed. The cold morning air filled my lungs. It felt empty.
I expected as much.
I went back to the home page. "Create New Account." I tapped it.
Username: Arata_Leon.
Profile picture… I left it blank. Just a gray silhouette.
I scrolled. Short videos started to pop up. Noisy music. People dancing. Cute cats. Food. Everything moved so fast.
I kept scrolling. I don't know for how long. My thumb moved up, up, up. The sounds from the phone mixed with the sounds of the forest insects.
"It is done, My Lord."
I lifted my head. Belial was standing in front of me, his phone already back in his pocket. His gaze was flat.
I locked my phone. The screen went black, reflecting my face for a moment.
I stood up. The wooden chair disappeared into particles of dust blown by the wind.
"We'll change first," I said.
I raised my hand. The air around me rippled, like calm water touched by a pebble. Then it became blurry. The world outside looked like a wet watercolor painting.
I could see Belial doing the same thing beside me. The space around him also became hazy.
My military uniform felt heavy. I took it off. The gold buttons felt cold against my fingers. I folded it. Put it in my inventory space.
I took out a white shirt. The fabric felt thin and cool. I tucked it into a pair of black trousers. Then a jacket. Finally, a tie. I tightened it around my neck. It was a little suffocating.
The transparent space around me disappeared. The air cleared. I looked at Belial. He was already finished. His black suit was immaculate. His silver cufflinks shone faintly. He looked like a bodyguard.
We walked to the car. Without a word. Just the sound of our steps on the gravel and dry leaves.
Click.
The car door opened. I got into the driver's seat. Belial beside me. The new car smell still lingered. The smell of plastic and synthetic leather.
I started the engine. The sound was smooth. Almost inaudible. I turned the wheel, the car turned around, then drove away from the forest.
We drove in silence. Just the sound of the tires on the asphalt. The trees of Fukushima passed by outside the window. Green, green, then gray as we entered the highway.
Belial opened the glove compartment. He took out two small bottles. Mango juice. He handed one to me.
I took it. It felt cold in my hand. I opened it, then took a small drink. Sweet. Too sweet.
"Our flight is in an hour," Belial said. His gaze was straight ahead.
"Good," I replied.
We arrived at Tokyo International Airport. Haneda. A giant building of glass and steel. The planes looked like giant metal insects on the tarmac.
We got out. The air felt colder here. The wind from the sea carried a faint smell of salt.
We walked inside. The sound of the crowd immediately greeted me. Announcements from the loudspeakers in Japanese and English. The sound of rolling suitcases on the marble floor. The sound of laughter. The sound of a child crying.
It all felt so… alive.
I looked around. People were rushing. Some were running to catch a flight. Some were sitting and waiting, their faces tired. Some were hugging, whether for a farewell or a reunion.
I stopped for a moment near a large window overlooking the tarmac. I watched a plane slowly take off. Becoming a small dot in the gray sky.
I wondered where it was going.
I wondered if anyone inside felt like I did.
Alienated.
"My Lord?" Belial's voice startled me.
I turned. He was pointing to a digital departure board. The green and orange letters were constantly changing.
Our flight to Shanghai. Gate 114.
"Let's go," I said.
We walked through security. I placed my phone and wallet in a gray plastic tray. Walked through the metal detector. No beep.
I picked up my things again.
We sat in the waiting area. The chairs were hard and cold. I looked out the window again. Watched the ground crew in orange vests moving around the plane. Like ants.
I could feel people's stares. Maybe because of our suits. Or maybe because we were just sitting silently. Not talking.
I didn't care.
I took out my phone again. Opened TikTok.
Scrolling.
Scrolling.
The noisy sounds filled my head. Chased away the silence.
I saw a video of a girl crying over a breakup. I scrolled. A pasta recipe video. I scrolled. A conspiracy video about aliens. I paused for a moment. Then scrolled again.
I felt a vibration. Belial's phone. He answered it. Spoke in a low voice. I wasn't listening.
He hung up.
"From Emma," he said. "Everything is under control."
"Good," I replied.
I kept scrolling.
An announcement came on. Our flight. It was time to board.
I stood up. Put my phone in my pocket.
We walked down the jet bridge. I could see the plane's wing from the window. There was an airline logo I didn't recognize.
We entered the plane. A flight attendant greeted us with a smile. I nodded.
We found our seats. Business class. I sat by the window. Belial beside me.
I fastened my seatbelt. It made a click sound.
I rested my head against the window. The surface felt cool on my forehead.
I looked out. Saw Tokyo glittering under the still-low morning sun. The shadows of the skyscrapers stretched long across the city, like giant black fingers.
The plane began to taxi down the runway. Faster. Faster.
Then, a jolt.
We lifted off.
I watched the land of Japan grow smaller below.
Tokyo Bay reflected the sunlight like a shattered silver mirror. Cargo ships looked like floating toys on its surface. The city turned into a complex gray network, interspersed with green patches of parks.
Then we broke through a thin layer of clouds.
And then we were above them. Below, an endless sea of white cotton stretched out, glittering under a sun that now felt so close and sharp. Above, the sky was no longer a pale blue, but a deep, pure indigo, a color that was almost purple at the edges.
I saw the curve of the Earth. A thin, hazy line of atmosphere separating the world from nothingness.
And the endless, cold darkness beyond it.
Here, above the clouds, there was no city noise. No crowds. Just the monotonous hum of the plane's engines.
I took out my phone. It felt warm now, after being in my pocket.
I pointed it at the window. Tapped the screen once. Focus.
Click.
I took a picture of the sea of clouds. And the deep blue sky above it. And the little bit of the Earth's curve that was visible.
On the small screen, the view felt… less. Not the same.
I lowered it.
Then, I flipped the camera. Pointed it at myself. My face looked pale under the cabin light. I tried to smile. It felt stiff.
I angled the phone slightly to the side, trying to get Belial in the frame. He was just staring straight ahead. Not moving. Like a statue.
"Look here," I said.
He turned. His expression didn't change. Flat.
Click.
I took a picture of us. In the photo, I looked like a tourist forcing a very serious bodyguard to take a picture. For some reason, that made me want to smile a little. A real one this time.
I put my phone away.
A flight attendant was pushing a cart down the aisle. Its wheels squeaked softly on the carpet. She stopped beside us.
"Breakfast, sir?" she asked in English, her smile professional.
I looked at the small, neatly arranged trays. There was an omelet, sausage, and a few pieces of fruit. There was also a Japanese option: rice, grilled fish, and miso soup.
"The Japanese one," I said.
She took a tray and placed it on my folded-down table. The faint aroma of grilled fish wafted up.
"And for you, sir?" she asked Belial.
"No, thank you. I've already eaten," Belial replied. His voice was polite, but still flat.
The flight attendant nodded, then pushed her cart further down.
I peeled the plastic cover off the tray. Warm steam rose from the miso soup. I picked up the wooden chopsticks. Broke them apart.
I took out my phone again.
Click.
I took a picture of my food. Then, I flipped the camera again.
I took a picture of myself. With the food tray in front of me. With the sea of clouds outside the window. I lifted the corners of my lips slightly. A small smile.
I started to eat. The rice was a little dry. But the fish was good.
I could hear the voices around me.
In the row ahead, a man in a suit was talking on the phone in rapid Mandarin. He sounded angry.
Across the aisle, a European couple was whispering in English, pointing at something in the in-flight magazine.
Behind me, a small child was whining to his mother in Japanese. He wanted candy.
I was alone.
But here, above the clouds, surrounded by foreign voices, I didn't feel so alienated.
Everyone here was also alone, together.
Everyone was on a journey.
Just like me.
I finished my miso soup. It was warm in my stomach.
I rested my head against the window again. Closed my eyes.
There was only the hum of the engines.
And the feeling of moving forward.