She stopped a few steps away from him.
Not because she wanted to but because her legs refused to carry her any farther. The pressure pressing down on the summit hadn't lessened. If anything, it felt more focused now, like the weight of the world had decided she alone was worth its attention. Her boots scraped against the obsidian stone as she steadied herself, breath coming shallow and uneven.
Up close, he was… not what she had imagined.
He wasn't colossal. He didn't look like the titans painted in old murals or described in fragmented reports. He stood tall, taller than any man she knew but still unmistakably humanoid. Broad shoulders. A solid, grounded frame. Power compressed into a shape that didn't need exaggeration to be terrifying.
That somehow made it worse.
She swallowed, wiped her palm against her thigh without realizing she'd done it, and forced herself to speak.
"My name is Seo Yura," she said, her voice carrying farther than she expected in the heavy air. It wavered for half a second before she caught it. "I'm… the leader of this party."
The words felt strange the moment they left her mouth. Leader. It sounded too official for the situation they were in, too small for the thing standing in front of her. Still, she inclined her head, not a bow, not submission, just acknowledgment.
"I don't know if you understand me," she continued carefully. "But from what we've seen… the inhabitants of the tower usually do. At least enough."
She paused, watching him for any sign of reaction. There was none. He didn't shift. Didn't tilt his head. Didn't blink.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
"I'll take that as… permission to keep going," she said, forcing a thin, awkward smile that didn't quite land.
Behind her, someone groaned. Another coughed wetly, struggling to stay upright. She ignored it. If she turned around now, she wouldn't turn back.
"I want to start by saying… I'm sorry."
The word felt inadequate the moment it left her lips, but she didn't retract it.
"I know we've caused damage," Yura said. "To this place. To those under your command. We were ordered to clear the tower, and… we did what we were told." Her fingers curled slightly at her side. "But I tried to be merciful on your people. I really did. We avoided fights when we could. We didn't strike unless we were attacked first."
Her gaze flicked briefly to the shattered stone nearby, to the scorch marks and fractured pillars. Evidence she couldn't deny.
"This is their home," she went on, voice quieter now but steadier. "And I know that matters. They didn't choose to have the tower linked to our world. They didn't ask to be dragged into this."
She drew in a breath, slow and deliberate, as if bracing herself.
"We were sent here," Yura said. "You weren't the one who chose this."
The words hung between them, fragile and exposed.
"I don't expect forgiveness," she added quickly, before the thought could be mistaken for a plea. "And I'm not asking you to overlook what's already happened. I just…" She hesitated, searching for language that wouldn't sound naive. "…I want to know if there's any possibility of peace."
The summit was silent.
For a heartbeat, for two, nothing happened. He didn't answer. He didn't move.
Yura let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and nodded faintly to herself. "Thank you," she said, more to fill the void than anything else. "For listening."
The mana behind her surged.
It was subtle, too subtle. A pressure shift rather than a sound, a distortion in the air that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Yura's eyes widened as she turned halfway around.
"What are you-"
"Thanks for the distraction."
The words came from one of her party members, voice strained but resolute, hands already glowing with unstable light. Symbols flared into existence around him, complex and layered, feeding into a spell that made the ground vibrate beneath their feet.
Yura spun fully now. "Stop it!" she shouted. "Are you insane?!"
"You said it yourself," another voice snapped back. "This is our only chance! Move, Yura!"
The spell continued to build, mana condensing into something vast and destructive. A wide-range invocation, cataclysmic, indiscriminate. The kind meant to end fights, not win them.
"If you don't move," the first voice said harshly, "you'll be caught in it."
Yura didn't move.
She stepped forward instead, placing herself squarely between them and him.
"No," she said, the word tearing out of her. "I won't."
The glow surged brighter.
"Get out of the way!" someone screamed.
She raised her hands on instinct.
Light erupted around her, forming a barrier that flickered violently as the spell discharged. The impact was deafening, raw force crashing into her shield, shattering stone and sending shockwaves rippling across the summit. Pain lanced through her arms, down her spine, as the barrier bent and warped under the pressure.
She couldn't stop it.
She could only redirect it.
The light fractured, scattering upward and outward, carving molten lines into the sky instead of tearing through the figure behind her. The shield shattered moments later, throwing her backward onto one knee.
Her vision swam. Her ears rang.
But she was alive.
And when she looked up, he was still standing.
Unharmed.
Something cold settled in her chest, not fear but understanding.
She turned slowly, fury burning through the exhaustion as she faced her party. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, voice shaking not from weakness, but from disbelief.
For a moment, no one answered. Then one of them staggered upright, eyes bloodshot, mana still leaking from his hands like smoke that refused to dissipate.
"What the hell was that, Yura?!" he shouted, spitting blood onto the stone. "Have you lost your damn mind?!"
She opened her mouth, but he didn't let her speak.
"Protecting him?" His laugh was sharp and ugly, cracking at the edges. "I knew you were naïve, but this?" He pointed past her, arm trembling. "You actually think peace is possible with that monster?"
Another voice joined in, hoarse with strain. "Move, Yura. You're standing in the way."
She didn't.
"He didn't attack us," she said, forcing the words out through the ringing in her ears. "He listened. You felt it too right, he let me speak."
"And that's supposed to mean something?" the first man snapped. "He's playing with you. Gods, you're such a dumbass, this thing wiped out entire parties before we even got here!"
"He didn't-" Her voice broke, then steadied. "He didn't have to let any of us live. None of this had to happen."
"That's exactly why it's dangerous!" someone else yelled. "Get out of the way, or we'll end you too!"
Mana surged again.
Yura felt it before she saw it, the sharp, desperate spike of intent, the kind that came from people who had already decided they were justified. Her heart lurched.
"No- stop- !"
The pressure shifted.
Behind her, something moved.
He rose.
There was no dramatic flare of power, no explosion of light or sound. One moment he was still, a fixed point at the center of the summit, and the next, he was standing fully upright, presence unfolding like a horizon snapping into focus.
The world tilted.
He spoke a single word.
"Fall."
One by one, Yura's party collapsed.
Knees buckled. Weapons clattered uselessly against the stone. Some tried to catch themselves, hands scraping desperately for purchase before strength abandoned them. Others simply went limp, consciousness unraveling mid-breath.
The summit filled with the sound of bodies hitting the ground.
Yura remained standing.
She swayed, vision blurring at the edges, but her legs held. She turned, breath hitching, just in time to see him step forward, slow, deliberate, eyes no longer distant.
"In all my existence," he said, his voice low and even, "no human has ever apologized to me."
The words landed heavier than any spell.
"For their actions. For their intrusion. For what was taken." His gaze rested on her, unwavering. "I find that… notable."
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"I suppose," he continued, "that I should return the courtesy."
Mana screamed.
The sensation was wrong, violent, uncontrolled. Yura felt it an instant before it happened and twisted around, horror flooding her chest.
One of them was still conscious.
Barely.
The man's eyes were wild, veins dark against his skin as he forced power into a spell that should have been impossible in his condition. Light gathered at his palm, unstable and shrieking, aimed not at the demon king-
—but at her.
"If I'm going down because of you," he snarled, "Then I'm taking you down personally!"
The spell fired.
Yura didn't have time to react.
He did.
There was a sharp displacement of air, a sudden presence at her side, and then he was in front of her, one arm raised. The spell struck his barrier and shattered like glass, scattering harmlessly into sparks that died before they touched the ground.
He didn't even look back at her.
In the same motion, he vanished.
A heartbeat later, the man was gone from her sight.
The impact echoed across the summit, a dull, concussive sound as a body struck stone far in the distance, followed by silence.
When he returned, it was as if he had never left.
"I apologize," he said calmly, turning back to her. "For the interruption."
Yura stared up at him, chest heaving, mind struggling to catch up. "You…" Her voice came out faint. "You just…"
"You introduced yourself," he said. "It would be discourteous not to do the same."
She swallowed hard.
"In your records," he continued, "I am known as Bael."
The name hit her like a physical blow.
Bael.
The Arc Goetia. First King. A name tied to dominion, to command, to something ancient and absolute. Her thoughts spiraled, fragments of old texts and half-forgotten briefings crashing together in her head.
He watched her reaction with quiet interest.
"But that is not my name, simply a title" he added.
Her breath caught.
"My true name," he said, "is Amon"
The summit seemed impossibly still.
This wasn't a monster pretending to understand her.
This was something that had always understood.
And chose, now, to speak.