Don't you dare die on me, Lloyd Holmes!
Eve ran, her mind chanting that single plea over and over again. To be honest, everything she had experienced tonight was more thrilling—and terrifying—than the sum of all the events in her life so far. Creatures lurking in the shadowed underside of the world, and those who fought them with their very lives…
This world was far more complicated than she had ever imagined. That truth pained her… yet Lloyd ignited a fire in her chest she had never known before.
He might just be the bravest soul she had ever met. His personality was absolutely horrible, sure—but before a monster that could shatter the human mind, he still had the courage to raise his sword. Compared to his radiance, Eve felt more fragile and dim than ever.
She didn't know how long she'd been running downward when she finally heard the rushing sound of water—just as Lloyd had said. The underground aqueduct.
Eve stopped, breath trembling. Dim amber lights barely illuminated the cramped chamber around her, shadows yawning like silent maws.
She wasn't like Lloyd—she didn't have his knowledge. She couldn't even tell what this place truly was. And only now did she fully grasp how crucial that detective had been. Without him, she might already be dead.
But then—it came again.
That sound.
Slithering. Countless scaled bodies brushing against one another. Weak… yet unmistakable.
The sound that had been chasing her relentlessly this entire time.
The water's noise drowned the direction, leaving her blind. All she could do was raise her gun and watch the dark.
Lloyd had once told her: that thing exerts a crushing pressure on the mind. But terror, once you grow familiar with it… even the fiercest tiger becomes nothing more than a large, dangerous cat.
She tightened her grip. Her eyes swept the darkness for the slightest tremor of movement.
Thoughts raced—too fast to follow.
What if she survived?
What if she didn't?
Fear became strangely distant… only regret remained.
There was a moment—a strange, surreal trance. Eve couldn't recall when she had become this version of herself. Once, long ago, she had loved frilly dresses and porcelain dolls. Just an ordinary little girl.
When… did that girl learn to wield guns and blades?
She forced her mind through the fog. And memories sharpened.
She was born after the Glorious War. But before she came into the world, three older brothers had already died on the battlefield. Her parents always looked at her with a silent grief—treasuring her as their last hope.
It was bitterly ironic. The death of her brothers cast an eternal shadow over the family… yet it also meant every drop of love her parents had was poured into her. Her childhood was sweet as sugar.
So why had she become like this?
The answer slipped away—
and then the darkness struck.
Claws—razor sharp—tearing through the void. A murderous presence washed over her like ice water. Eve found the courage to twist her body aside, rolling across the cold floor and firing upward in one sharp motion.
Black-red blood splattered in the darkness.
Her heart thundered wildly—yet she found she could still move. She was adapting. Dragging her stiff limbs, she sprinted toward the farthest shadow. Exactly what Lloyd taught her to do.
His voice whispered through her thoughts:
"According to the Order's earliest records, humans and demons once shared the same land. Humans hid behind walls of stone, sealing themselves in refuges at night, smothering every sound in desperate fear."
She remembered him continuing—
"We shivered in darkness until the first fire was born—lighting the forest and guiding the lost. But it also revealed us to the demons lurking below. Light does not always protect. If we want to slay the monster… we must first become the darkness. Slip into its world."
The slithering intensified. Eve could smell it now—the thick metallic stench of blood. Pressing her back to the curved wall, she narrowed the angle of danger. All threats now lay in front of her—simple, predictable.
She just needed to live.
At least until Lloyd found her.
This chamber was circular, the sound bouncing chaotically around the curved stone like a cruel trick. Water and scales, echoing in confusion. No direction. No escape.
Something brushed her cheek.
She rubbed her sleeve against her skin—nothing. Dust, maybe. That thought snapped into instinct—she jerked her gun upward and fired into the ceiling above.
The muzzle flash tore into the dark—
revealing the nightmare clinging overhead.
A twisted mass of bone and exposed muscle, its pale limbs—three, four pairs of arms—anchoring it to the wall. Fangs jutted well beyond its jaw. Rows of eyes—too many—crowded its head.
She hit it.
Her police training paid off—point-blank, she shot straight through its skull. Several eyes burst in a spray of dark ichor and a shriek split the air.
"Stay calm, Eve… stay calm…"
She whispered the words to herself as she rolled away from the falling creature. Her pupils were bloodshot, her fingers shaking but still clutching the weapon. Calling such a nightmare "a big dangerous cat" was far too generous.
That was the terror of demons—
every moment of the fight gnawed at the mind.
Lose yourself for even a heartbeat… and death follows.
A murderous gale cut through the air behind her. A claw—long and sharp—adorned with rings as if it had once belonged to a human hand.
Perhaps it once did.
Eve spun—but she was too slow.
She swung her short blade, but human strength was nothing against that twisted abomination. The weapons met with a bone-rattling crack, her fingers numb with shock as the sword flew from her grasp. Pain flared—a shallow but bloody gash marking her arm.
The scent of human blood excited the demon. It howled—a grotesque sound that once may have been laughter. Fanged jaws opened wide, multiple arms clamping onto her body like iron chains.
The grinder of flesh drew closer to her face.
So this is it?
Is this where her story ends?
Those claws dug deeper. Her mind buckled, terror threatening to shatter her sanity.
What a stupid, stupid night.
If she had just listened to her father, she would be asleep in her warm, quiet bed right now. She would never have known demons existed. She would grow up peacefully. Fall in love.
Live out her days on a sunny island with someone she cherished.
It should have been that way.
So when… did her life become this?
It wasn't that her father had descended into drunken nights after her mother's death. No—the truth was harsher. He had always been like that, ever since the day she was born. He was mourning her brothers.
A familiar picture frame rose in Eve's fading memory, yet the faces upon it were blurred beyond recall. She only knew they were her brothers. She was the princess of House Phoenix—the fledgling phoenix reborn from ashes.
Yet the one who survived… was her.
And they were the ones who turned to ash.
Every breath she took, every heartbeat she claimed—was bought by their deaths. Perhaps it was the moment she understood this truth that she began to change into what she was now.
The monster's serrated mandibles plunged downward.
But at that exact moment, something erupted within Eve—an impossible surge of strength.
Ignoring the agony of claws ripping into her flesh, she tore one arm free, and with a desperate thrust—a gun clenched in her blood-slicked hand—she drove her fist straight into the creature's descending maw.
Pain dulled into numbness.
Yet she no longer cared.
When fear reaches its furthest edge, some fall into madness—while others ignite into a wild, hysterical courage.
In the creature's cluster of writhing eyes, her face reflected—ferocious, valiant.
Her pupils narrowed with rage, sharp as a predator's.
"Die!"
She screamed the word, and pulled the trigger.
Muffled blasts thudded beneath the grotesque flesh.
Bullet after bullet tore through the demon from within, shredding muscle and sinew.
Howling, the monster hurled her violently against the wall—its maw gushing dark blood, its voice scraping like rusted iron.
Eve crashed to the ground.
Her entire body felt shattered; her arm was a ruin of blood and torn skin.
Across from her, the demon staggered—wounded, yes, but only wounded.
It was a demon—pain only awakened the beast within.
Parasitic vines of devouring weed burst from its flesh, writhing like serpents drunk on frenzy.
Her once-timid heart… finally learned defiance.
Gritting her teeth, Eve forced herself upright.
Even if she died here—she would not let the Phoenix name fall in disgrace.
The demon lunged again. She tried to move, but the agony flooding her nerves nearly consumed her consciousness.
Yet in the final breath before death's impact—her body moved.
She dodged.
A thunderous crash shook the dust loose from the walls, shadows writhing like tortured spirits within the swirling haze.
Eve gasped for air—alive.
Alive for a few more seconds.
But that was enough.
She would survive—survive until Lloyd arrived.
She hadn't known the detective long, but she would never forget his lone figure standing against the monster, unshaken.
Lloyd Holmes would not die.
If he stayed there, it meant he was certain he could slay the demon.
She only needed to endure.
Endure…
Another explosive strike.
Wildly sprouting tendrils slashed like flying blades—one mere graze left her bleeding anew.
The blood would not stop.
Her vision darkened around the edges.
She felt submerged in a freezing sea—the chill of blood loss dragging her mind toward oblivion.
Her will strained, barely holding against the demon's overwhelming presence.
This must be the end.
Eve watched that nightmare shape closing in, and let her eyes fall shut.
Seconds crawled by.
Death… did not come.
Instead, warmth—light—rose before her.
She opened her eyes.
And saw blazing white fire devour her world.