The fog did not disperse.
In fact, it seemed to have retreated, to have concentrated beyond the edge of the clearing, as if the forest itself instinctively wanted to make room for what was to come.
A strange pressure appeared in Ken's chest, not pain, but a warning. Courtney and Norman stood behind him, neither of them speaking, because all three felt the same: they must not go any closer now.
The succubus did not really run away. She only stepped back.
Her red hair floated slowly, as if untouched by the air, her wings were at once beautiful and unnatural. When she spoke, her voice was not loud, yet it pierced everything.
"Oh…" she smiled. "The reaper has arrived."
The faceless creature did not respond with words.
The air cracked around her.
The dust and leaves of the earth rose as if carried by invisible currents. The creature's body rose from the ground, not with wings but with sheer will. Its scythe slowly turned toward the succubus, and that was when Ken truly understood: this was not a weapon, but a judgment.
"Don't you dare come near mortals," the creature's voice finally spoke. It wasn't deep, it wasn't distorted. It was cold. It was clear. "You don't belong in this world."
The succubus laughed.
"And you?" he asked playfully. "Where do you really belong?"
A single heartbeat of silence.
Then the succubus was gone.
It didn't fly away—it teleported. The next moment, it was behind the creature, claws outstretched, the air splitting with the movement.
The faceless creature's body twisted sideways in the air, telekinesis pulling itself aside, the arc of the scythe cutting through space, leaving a wound in reality.
The succubus screamed—not in pain, but in pleasure.
"Yes… this is…" she panted. "I love this."
The next few moments were non-linear.
The succubus summoned black flames that didn't burn, but sucked the life out.
The faceless creature stood motionless in the air, then with a single wave of her hand, she reversed the energy, as if death itself had bent space. The flames split, but they didn't disappear—they circled, searching for the gap.
Ken's knees shook.
Courtney instinctively stepped forward, one hand gripping his arm.
"Don't look," she whispered. "It's not for us."
But Ken was looking.
He could feel it was about her, too.
The succubus reached deeper then. It wasn't the body she was attacking—the meaning. Images flashed in the air: desire, want, touch, promises. The faceless creature's movements slowed. Its aura flashed—too strong.
"See?" the succubus whispered. "They always break like this."
The scythe trembled.
It was the only moment the faceless creature backed away.
The succubus didn't miss.
It pierced the aura with a single, concentrated blow. It didn't destroy it—it wounded it.
The faceless creature's body fell a few meters, then stopped in midair again, but Ken could see that it hurt now.
Norman gasped.
"He… he teaches," he whispered. "But he's not a warrior. That's not what he was designed for."
The succubus smiled triumphantly.
"See?" she turned away from the creature for a moment, as if speaking to Ken. "Even he can't protect you forever."
And then the faceless creature made up his mind.
He didn't attack.
He opened it.
He swung his scythe in front of him, and space screamed. A dark, swirling portal tore open, deeper and colder than anything Ken had ever felt. It wasn't terrifying like hell, but like finality.
The succubus's eyes widened.
"No…" she hissed. "Don't dare…"
The faceless creature didn't answer.
He telekinesis-grabbed the succubus—not roughly, but with ruthless precision—and pulled her into the vortex. The succubus screamed, her wings flapped, the surroundings vibrated, but the portal closed.
For a final moment, the succubus's gaze locked on Ken.
It wasn't hatred.
A promise.
The portal closed.
The mist slowly disintegrated.
The faceless creature didn't return.
Only silence remained.
Ken dropped to his knees.
Courtney was immediately at his side, pulling him close, just silently.
Norman didn't speak for a long time.
Then he said softly:
"He… didn't win." He swallowed. "He just bought time."
Ken looked up.
And he knew exactly: It wasn't over yet.