"Huff... huff..."
Joe stumbled into the narrow alley, boots scraping against damp stone as he barely managed to stop himself from collapsing. He pressed his back to the wall, chest heaving, lungs burning as if filled with shards of glass.
He laughed weakly—short, bitter, and breathless.
"I really thought... I’d made it," he muttered. "The human realm, of all places..."
His fingers trembled as they brushed his chest, right where the concealed artifact rested beneath layers of cloth and binding spells.
"...So there were already demons here."
That realization hit harder than the exhaustion.
He had severed his horns at the border.
Endured inspections that peeled away dignity along with blood.
Even as a hornless vampire—or what humans would mistake for one—he had been examined, searched, and scrutinized.
And yet—
They were here.
"No... focus," Joe hissed, forcing himself upright. "Questions later. If I don’t move now—"
The killing intent he had felt earlier wasn’t imagined.
It was real.
Cold.
Certain.
His mind betrayed him then, dragging him back to memories he had tried—failed—to bury.
The underground palace.
Once eternal.
Once radiant.
Once carved from obsidian and crystal so perfect it reflected eternity itself.
Now reduced to rubble beneath the march of Levain’s troops.
"May the Diamond grant us protection...!"
He saw it again—elite heavy infantry, warriors he had admired since childhood, armor forged to withstand siege magic—
—split open like parchment.
Blood flooding the crystal halls.
Screams swallowed by collapsing stone.
"Run. My children."
The king’s voice echoed in his skull.
Calm.
Resolute.
Final.
Standing alone with the gargoyles, wings shattered, body broken, holding the enemy back long enough for them to escape.
Joe clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
Even now, time hadn’t dulled the nightmares.
If anything, they had sharpened them.
"...Not now," he whispered. "I can’t stop. Not yet."
Pain screamed through his limbs as he pushed himself forward—
"Found you."
The voice came from everywhere.
Joe froze.
Shadows peeled themselves away from the alley walls.
One.
Three.
Six.
They moved with practiced ease, boots echoing softly as they spread out, blocking every exit.
Joe’s face twisted with fury.
"So those demons earlier sold me out," he spat. "Damn it... I should’ve known."
Their identities were impossible to miss.
A crooked horn jutted out from beneath one hood.
Another made no effort to hide the scaled tail swaying behind him.
Crimson eyes glinted in the dark, filled with hunger and disdain.
"...Ravarn," Joe growled.
The man at the front laughed, low and ugly.
"Krh. You say that like we’re the villains." He tilted his head mockingly. "Do you have any idea how many of us died just getting into this realm?"
His companions chuckled, tightening their grip on spears, curved blades, and spell-foci.
Step by step, the circle closed.
"This is where it ends," the leader said calmly. "Hand it over."
Joe’s heart slammed against his ribs.
"You think I’d give you that?" he snapped. "Absurd!"
His hand instinctively moved to his chest.
Diamond.
The name alone steadied him.
It’s not mine, he thought fiercely.
It was entrusted to me.
The leader’s smile widened, sharp and humorless.
"Still clinging to loyalty?" he sneered. "Pathetic. Your king is dead. Your palace is ash. You’re all that’s left."
Joe’s eyes burned.
"...You don’t get to say his name."
"Oh?" The demon shrugged. "Then let’s simplify things."
He raised his hand.
"If you won’t hand it over—"
Weapons lifted.
Mana stirred.
"—we’ll take it along with your life."
A wave of murderous intent rolled through the alley, thick enough to choke on.
Joe exhaled slowly.
Then smiled.
A small, crooked smile—tired, bloodied, but unbroken.
"...Figures," he said softly. "Diamond always did say my luck was terrible."
But at the same time he couldn’t help but think.
’Is this the end?’
The thought came quietly—without panic, without drama.
In truth, he already knew the answer.
Joe was long past his limit.
The only thing keeping his legs from giving out was the duty Diamond had entrusted to him.
A duty etched deeper than fear, deeper than pain.
But willpower alone had never been enough to overturn reality.
If it were, his radiant homeland would not have fallen.
If it were, Barant Fortress would still stand unbroken.
Even at his peak, survival had been uncertain.
Now—wounded, bleeding, barely breathing—
the outcome was obvious.
A single touch from them would be enough.
Weapons screamed through the air—blades, spears, jagged constructs of demonic mana—closing in from every direction.
Joe tightened his grip on his cracked weapon.
Then loosened it.
As he braced himself for the end, he closed his eyes.
And—
"Wow. So much for the impregnable Barant Fortress—famed for keeping demons at bay."
A voice drifted across the battlefield.
Calm.
Lazy.
Almost amused.
"Who would’ve guessed it’d be teeming with demons like this?"
Joe’s eyes snapped open.
The battlefield froze—not physically, but mentally.
That voice didn’t belong here.
"...That person is—"
Joe’s breath hitched.
The man standing atop the broken rampart—
The same one he had seen earlier.
The man who had been beside the vampire.
His presence alone felt wrong, like a piece from another board dropped into the middle of the game.
Joe’s thoughts spiraled.
’He was with her.
I thought... I thought he was aligned with Ravarn.’
But the scene before him contradicted everything.
The man stood casually, hands in his pockets, surveying the battlefield like it was a poorly staged play.
And then he laughed.
Not cruelly.
Mockingly.
His eyes gleamed with open contempt as they swept over the demons below.
"Who are you?!" one of the Ravarn commanders barked.
"We cast a wide-area spell to disrupt recognition! No one should even notice this place—!"
"Oh, that?" the man said lightly. "Thanks, actually. Made it way easier to track you down."
The demon froze.
"...What?"
The man tilted his head, smiling wider.
"Should I say this is typical of Ravarn?" he continued.
"Always sloppy with the cleanup. Your magic’s awkwardly good—but never precise."
In an instant, every Ravarn demon turned toward him.
Weapons lowered.
Mana surged.
Killing intent flooded the air like a rising tide.
Joe swallowed.
’Made it easier to find.’
’Typical of Ravarn.’
’Awkwardly good magic skills.’
It wasn’t subtle.
It wasn’t cautious.
It was blatant disdain—for their race itself.
"...You dare mock us?" a Ravarn noble hissed.
"You stand alone before us. Do you even understand where you are?"
The man glanced down at his empty hands.
Then shrugged.
"Yeah. Surrounded."
His gaze lifted again, sharp and utterly fearless.
"But that’s kind of your people’s specialty, isn’t it? Overwhelming numbers to compensate for mediocre talent."
A collective snarl rippled through the demons.
Joe felt his scalp prickle.
This man wasn’t just provoking them—
He was inviting them.
"Kill him!" someone roared.
"Rip him apart!"
Mana flared.
Spells began to form.
Joe instinctively raised his broken weapon, even knowing it was useless.
Then the man sighed.
"Man... you demons really never learn."
He snapped his fingers.
The air twisted.
Not exploded—twisted.
The spells collapsed in on themselves, mana folding like paper crushed by an invisible hand. Several demons screamed as their own magic backlashed violently.
"What—?!"
"Our spells—!"
The man’s smile vanished.
What replaced it was cold.
"You cast recognition-hindering magic," he said calmly.
"But you forgot one thing."
He took a step forward.
The ground beneath his foot cracked.
"Those spells don’t work very well against parasites."
Joe’s heart skipped.
Parasite—the man before him was parsite.
A demon.