The once-bustling street had fallen eerily silent.
Between the collapsing ground and the chaos that followed, the area around Ren Kuroda and Izayoi was now completely deserted.
Any remaining spectators had retreated to the upper floors of distant buildings, while winged phantasmal beasts and demi-humans hovered high in the air, keeping their distance.
Though the earth had split apart and the original field markings were long buried under debris, both Ren and Izayoi had memorized the position of the scoring lines.
While everyone else had fled for their lives—
They saw opportunity.
Gripping the iron chain with renewed force, both erupted with power.
"You're not going to run, are you, Ren?"
Izayoi tightened his hold, battle lust blazing in his eyes.
After his defeat at the hands of "His Highness," he had indeed fallen into frustration for a time. But once he broke through that slump, he realized something—
He had grown stronger.
If this were a duel against Ren's drawn blade, Izayoi would still admit his odds weren't great.
But a pure contest of strength?
He refused to lose again.
His resolve surged through the chain, transmitted directly to Ren. The movement of the iron links was subtle—but unmistakable. The chain was inching toward Izayoi.
Ren felt it.
Even with his full activation of "Supernatural Strength," he was failing to gain the upper hand.
Surprise flickered across his expression.
Just as he prepared to unleash an even greater level of power—
The chain began to shriek.
The metallic groan grew louder and louder, like teeth grinding against bone.
And then—
With a violent snap—
The iron chain, thick as a child's arm, was torn apart by the combined force of Ren and Izayoi.
It shattered.
The sudden loss of resistance caused both of them to lose balance, their bodies propelled backward by the recoil. With nothing anchoring their strength, they were hurled into the ruined structures behind them.
The spectators were stunned.
Moments ago, they had been debating which of the two monsters would emerge victorious.
Never—not even in their wildest imagination—had they considered this outcome.
That chain was forged from cold iron.
In terms of durability, it was only slightly inferior to legendary metals like Divine Rare Iron.
Even ten adult griffins pulling in opposite directions might not have been able to deform it.
Yet two humanoid figures had ripped it apart.
What did that mean?
That their combined strength rivaled—or surpassed—ten full-grown griffins?
What kind of "humans" were these?
They weren't humans.
They were ancient calamities in human form.
At the heart of the South District, within a grand council chamber, the leadership of the alliance "Dragon Horn Gryphon" had assembled.
At the head of the long table sat Sarah Terudorake, the newly appointed Alliance Chair.
To her left and right were the leaders and strategists of "Two Wings," "Four Claws," and "Six Scars."
The reason for the emergency meeting was simple:
The Harvest Festival.
And the looming threat of a Demon King.
"Chairwoman Sarah, you can't possibly be considering canceling this year's Harvest Festival over a few unverified rumors, can you?"
The leader of "Two Wings," Griffith, glared across the table at the composed and sharp-eyed Sarah.
"We've already sent invitations to numerous prominent Communities across other districts. If we cancel now, the damage to Dragon Horn Gryphon's reputation will be immense."
His tone carried unmistakable protest.
After the incident in the North District, Shiroyasha had secretly warned both the South and West District Floor Masters.
Especially concerning the giant who had appeared to block "His Highness" during their retreat—Shiroyasha had specifically urged Sarah to monitor giant activity along the southern borders.
Sarah had taken that advice seriously.
She had ridden a griffin herself to the world's edge of the South District.
And what she discovered troubled her deeply.
The giants who once inhabited the frozen wastelands there—
Had vanished.
Completely.
Giants rarely left their territory.
And even if they did, they would never disappear all at once.
Combined with the recent disturbances in the North and East Districts, Sarah felt an unmistakable sense of unease.
That was why she had convened this meeting.
Her proposal was clear:
Suspend the Harvest Festival.
Shift to a state of high alert.
If the so-called Demon King Alliance intended to strike the South, this festival would be the perfect opportunity.
With so many external Communities flooding into the district, Dragon Horn Gryphon's manpower was already stretched thin.
Infiltration would be easy.
"Tell me, Griffith," Sarah replied calmly, her gaze unwavering. "Which is more important—Dragon Horn Gryphon's reputation, or the safety of the entire South District?"
She leaned forward slightly.
"The enemy is a force even the White Night Demon King could not easily handle. Do you believe the Floor Master of the East District would joke about something like this?"
Griffith fell silent for a moment.
But only for a moment.
"The Demon King Alliance attacking the South is still speculation," he countered. "Everything we know is based on Shiroyasha's prediction."
"And besides—so many powerful Communities are gathered here for the festival. If a Demon King truly appears, wouldn't they become a formidable allied force?"
His eyes hardened.
"Let's be honest, Sarah Terudorake. You're still an outsider."
The room went still.
"You don't understand what the name Dragon Horn Gryphon means to those of us who were born here."
The words were sharp.
Poisoned.
Sarah might be the leader of "One Horn." She might be the Alliance Chair. She might even be the next South District Floor Master.
But to Griffith—
She would always be from the North.
Griffith was a Third-Type Fantasy Species—a proud hybrid of griffin and dragon horse bloodlines.
He held immense pride in his heritage.
To him, Dragon Horn Gryphon wasn't merely an organization.
It was identity.
Honor.
Legacy.
The atmosphere in the chamber grew heavier by the second.
Voices rose.
Tempers flared.
It was on the verge of exploding into a full argument—
When the doors burst open.
A young knight clad in armor bearing the "Two Wings" insignia rushed inside, breathless.
"Chairwoman Sarah! Leaders! It's urgent!"
He swallowed hard.
"A griffin knight reconnaissance squad stationed at the southern border has just lost contact."
The room froze.
"Their final transmission mentioned… giants… a Demon King… and—"
He hesitated.
"Music. The sound of a harp."
The words fell like a bucket of ice water over the heated chamber.
All hostility vanished in an instant.
Griffith's face drained of color.
He sank back into his chair, whispering hoarsely:
"…The Demon King has really come."