Cedar Lake, Nova York state
United Continent of America, Terra,
Tellus Solar system
Milky way Galaxy
Neutral Free Zone
March 8th 2019
Amidst the chaos of rupturing bodies and spiraling debris, Emily stood at the eye of the storm.
Explosive spells bloomed from her hands in rapid succession, each detonation carving through the tide of Abominations surging toward them. The battlefield trembled beneath the relentless barrage. Somewhere above, Leon had already ascended into the sky, his presence now clashing with the Greater Abominations, leaving Emily and the others to contend with the swarm below.
She moved.
Twin shortswords flashed into motion—precise, efficient, merciless.
Each strike was a conclusion.
The corrupted creatures could scarcely react, their senses too slow to follow the deceptive rhythm of her movements. Steel traced arcs through the air like strokes of inevitability, every motion flowing seamlessly into the next. There was no hesitation, no wasted breath—only the quiet certainty of death delivered again and again.
Emily's style bore no resemblance to Leon's refined, inherited techniques. There was no lineage in her movements.
Only survival.
Forged in the lawless depths of Orphan Alley on Olympia, her combat was a language written in desperation and sharpened by necessity. Against predators in human skin—rapists, killers, thieves—she had learned to wield her daggers long before she ever understood power, long before divinity ever brushed against her soul.
Back then, there had been no blessings. No destiny.
Only the will to live.
Her Awakening had changed everything.
Among the Pleiadians, the ability to awaken without external catalysts was a birthright—but only for those of Named Families, bloodlines intertwined with divine favor. The rest were left to chance, gambling their lives within Awakening temples for a fleeting opportunity at ascension.
Emily should have been one of the forgotten.
A nameless child of the streets.
And yet, fate had carved a different path for her—granting her a natural Awakening that defied the order of her world.
A blessing.
And a curse.
She exhaled softly as black blood sprayed across the battlefield, the droplets repelled effortlessly by the translucent shimmer of her Spirit Barrier. Not a single stain touched her.
Ahead, the building housing the Infernal engine loomed like a festering wound in reality.
Even from a distance, she could feel it.
Corruption.
It seeped through the structure in waves, crawling against her senses like unseen insects beneath her skin. The sensation was not merely discomfort—it was intrusion. A violation of the soul itself.
Emily's perception was unlike that of other Mystic artists.
Where most sensed only the presence of energy, she saw deeper.
She saw souls.
Their shapes. Their distortions. Their fractures.
Every being around her existed as a living outline within her awareness, their essence laid bare. Thoughts flickered at the edges of her perception, fragments of consciousness bleeding into her mind.
It was a gift that bordered on madness.
Because to see a soul… was to risk being seen in return.
And the corruption festering within these Abominations was not passive.
It reached back.
Her grip tightened around her blades as Odic force surged through her body, refining her mana into intricate runic sequences that stabilized her mind and reinforced her spells.
"Are we going in?" Sam's voice came from beside her.
Emily glanced at her.
Sam was still trembling—subtly, but enough. Her soul resonated with the Abominations in a way Emily couldn't fully understand. It should have been impossible. Dangerous.
Yet there was no corruption within her.
No distortion.
If anything… her soul felt—
Stronger.
Emily narrowed her eyes slightly.
Maybe even stronger than mine.
"…Let's go," she said.
The door did not open.
It shattered.
With a single kick, Emily burst into the building, her blade igniting in a radiant surge.
"[Prismatic Wind Blade.]"
Light erupted first—brilliant, searing, absolute.
Then came the wind.
The two forces intertwined, spiraling into a cascading lattice of color as the light fractured into radiant spectrums—red, orange, gold—each beam veering unpredictably, scattering through the darkness like divine judgment unleashed.
The Abominations didn't scream.
They vanished.
Erased where they stood, their forms disintegrated under the overwhelming fusion of elements. Even the shadows themselves seemed to recoil, burned away by the radiance flooding the room.
When the light faded, silence followed.
A faint remnant of blue shimmer lingered along Emily's blade as she stepped forward, walking through the aftermath of her own destruction.
The interior revealed itself slowly.
Once, it had been a clothing store—polished floors, bright displays, a place of mundane comfort.
Now it was something else entirely.
Decay clung to every surface.
Filth layered the walls like rot made manifest, while thick, blackened vines coiled across the interior, pulsating faintly as though alive. They crept along the floors, wrapped around pillars, and strangled the remains of escalators that led to the upper levels.
Infernal moss consumed everything it touched, its unnatural growth warping the structure into something organic… something hostile.
Sam paused behind her, eyes scanning the ruin.
She recognized it.
Or what was left of it.
Her aunt used to shop here.
The memory felt distant now—fragile, almost unreal in the face of what the place had become.
What once held life… now festered with corruption.
And deeper within the building—
Something waited.
"There used to be a food court up there," Sam said, her voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might disturb whatever lingered above.
Emily didn't respond immediately.
Her gaze lifted, eyes narrowing slightly as her perception stretched upward—piercing through layers of concrete, rot, and corruption.
"I can feel it," she said at last. "A dense concentration of Infernal energy… directly above us."
Now that they were inside the building, the source revealed itself more clearly—like a festering core buried within the structure. But the moment her senses brushed against it, something pushed back.
Hard.
A violent pressure slammed into her mind, invasive and suffocating, like plunging her consciousness into a sea of screaming souls. The intensity alone threatened to fracture her focus.
Emily exhaled sharply and severed the connection at once.
She didn't linger.
With a flick of her fingers, runes spiraled into existence beneath Sam and Henry's feet. A lifting force surged upward, wrapping around them like invisible hands.
They rose.
Emily followed.
As a Master, she invoked Skyfall—a Mystic technique that allowed her to command the flow of World energy itself. Gravity bent beneath her will, its hold loosening as she ascended, her body carried effortlessly through the air.
At the same time, she maintained the spell anchoring Sam and Henry.
Two arts.
Two streams of control.
Perfectly balanced.
It was the equivalent of splitting her mind in half—maintaining precision in both directions without letting either falter. Most Awakened would fail such a task instantly. The strain alone would fracture their control, unraveling both techniques at once.
But Emily held steady.
This was the difference between talent… and mastery.
Most cultivators chose a path—either Mana Arts or Magecraft—refining one until it became an extension of their being. To divide focus was to risk stagnation.
It was why Sam struggled.
She was trying to look in two directions at once… without yet understanding how to see.
They reached the upper level.
The moment their feet touched the ground, the air changed.
This place was no longer a store.
It had become something else.
A laboratory.
Cold. Artificial. Wrong.
Rows of tanks stretched across the floor, each one filled with human bodies—suspended, motionless, yet grotesquely alive. Tubes and wires snaked from their forms, feeding into machines that hummed with a low, nauseating rhythm.
A murky, brown fluid filled each chamber.
And within it—
The bodies were dissolving.
Skin sloughed away in slow decay, muscle breaking down into strands that drifted like ash in liquid. The fluid absorbed everything, draining the remains through the connected lines that fed upward into the ceiling.
Emily's eyes flickered.
She didn't need to ask where it led.
Sam and Henry stood frozen.
Revulsion struck them both, raw and immediate.
Henry's face drained of color, his stomach turning violently. He staggered back a step, hand over his mouth—
Then he broke.
He vomited onto the floor, the sound echoing too loudly in the suffocating space.
Sam didn't move.
Didn't look away.
Slowly, she stepped forward, drawn toward one of the tanks. Her hand pressed against the glass, fingers trembling slightly.
Inside—
A girl.
Or what remained of one.
Her body was small, fragile… too small. The proportions were wrong in a way that made Sam's chest tighten. She couldn't tell if the girl was younger than her, or if the process had simply reduced her to something lesser.
The flesh looked brittle. Fractured.
Breaking apart.
And yet—
She was alive.
Sam saw it in the movement. The subtle twitch of limbs. The faint tremor of her form. Her mouth was open wide, locked in a silent scream that would never reach the outside.
No sound escaped the tank.
Only suffering.
"We should help them," Sam said, her voice cracking as she pulled her hand away. Her eyes darted across the room, searching—anything, any way, something—
Anything.
A streak of black fire cut through the air.
Before she could react, it slammed into the tank.
Purple-black flames erupted instantly, devouring the glass, the fluid, the body within. The fire didn't burn—it erased. Consumed. Reduced everything to nothing within seconds.
Sam staggered back, her breath catching as more spells ignited across the room.
"[Nebula Arrow.]"
One by one, the tanks were engulfed.
The room filled with a chorus that shouldn't have existed—faint, warped echoes of screams as the last remnants of consciousness were extinguished in fire.
"No—!"
Sam rushed forward, anger surging through her as she turned on Emily, her expression twisted with disbelief.
"Why would you do that?" she demanded. "We could have saved them!"
Emily didn't flinch.
She watched the flames with quiet detachment before turning her gaze toward Sam.
A sigh escaped her, soft… almost tired.
"They were already dead," she said.
Her voice was calm.
Certain.
"Look at them," she continued. "What kind of future do you think they have?"
Sam's lips parted, but the words didn't come.
"We could have… found a way…" she said finally, though even she could hear how hollow it sounded.
Emily shook her head.
"Sometimes death is a mercy."
The words landed like a blade.
"The struggle of life isn't meant for everyone."
Sam froze.
Her eyes widened, something deep within her recoiling violently at the thought.
No.
No.
She refused.
Life wasn't something you discarded.
Not like this.
Not ever.
If anyone understood that—
It should have been her.
Her thoughts spiraled inward, dragging her back into memories she had buried.
Her father.
His death.
The countless nights she had questioned why she had survived when he hadn't. The quiet guilt that had hollowed her out from the inside, leaving her wondering if her life had ever truly held meaning at all.
There had been a time when she didn't care if she lived or died.
A time when life itself had felt… empty.
But that had changed.
Hadn't it?
When she became a Guardian… she made a choice.
To live.
To value her life.
To never throw it away.
And yet—
Standing here, surrounded by what life had been reduced to—
Broken. Dissolved. Used.
Sam felt something twist inside her.
Not doubt.
Not fear.
But shame.
A quiet, burning shame for every moment she had ever treated her own life as if it were worth nothing.
"The Infernal engine is right above us," Emily said, her voice steady despite the oppressive weight in the air. "We shut it down… and the land might still have a chance to heal."
All three of them looked up.
The ceiling was gone—consumed.
In its place was a mass of living darkness, thick and suffocating, swallowing all light. The pipes that fed from the tanks vanished into it, disappearing into a writhing canopy of corruption.
And within that darkness—
They stirred.
Hundreds of Abominations shifted, their malformed bodies fused into the mass like parasites nesting within a carcass. Their awareness sharpened the moment they sensed the threat below.
They were watching.
Waiting.
At the center of that writhing mass, something larger moved.
A Mid-rank Abomination.
It let out a piercing, distorted screech—one that reverberated through the structure like a signal.
The swarm responded.
The lesser Abominations were dragged inward, their bodies unraveling as they were forcibly absorbed. Flesh merged with flesh, limbs twisted and collapsed into one another, their forms crushed and reassembled into something greater.
Something worse.
The mass pulsed violently.
Then it stilled.
What emerged was no longer Mid-rank.
It had ascended.
A Greater Abomination.
The darkness shifted.
No—
It struck.
A colossal tendril tore free from the ceiling, plunging downward like the head of a monstrous serpent, its maw formed from writhing shadows as it lunged to devour them whole.
"Move," Emily said.
There was no panic in her voice.
Only command.
All three of them leapt aside in unison as the tendril crashed into the floor with devastating force. The impact fractured the ground beneath them, cracks racing outward like spiderwebs as chunks of the structure caved in.
Dust and debris filled the air.
The building groaned.
"Sam!" Emily snapped, already repositioning herself. "Take the stairs. Get to the roof—destroy the engine. No matter what."
Sam hesitated for only a fraction of a second—
Then she moved.
I won't let you.
The thought wasn't heard.
It was felt.
The Abomination reacted instantly. From the mass above, dozens of shadowy vines lashed downward, surging toward Sam like hunting predators.
But they never reached her.
Emily stepped in.
Faster.
Her body blurred as she intercepted the attack, her twin blades igniting—not with light, but with a suffocating absence of it.
The dark element.
It wrapped around her weapons like a living void.
This was not the same darkness the Abominations wielded.
Their power was Infernal energy—corrupted, chaotic, a warped distortion of World energy driven by madness and decay.
But Emily's darkness was something else entirely.
A fundamental element.
A law.
Decay. End. Finality.
Where Infernal energy corrupted—
The dark element erased.
It was the natural enemy of all things that defied order… including Abominations themselves.
"[Lightless Slash.]"
She swung.
No flash.
No brilliance.
Only absence.
A wave of invisible force cleaved through the air, carrying the razor edge of her blade with it. When it met the tendrils, they didn't resist.
They unraveled.
The Infernal mass was consumed upon contact, devoured by the void-like energy as the slash carved its way upward, tearing a path straight toward the heart of the darkness.
The Abomination recoiled, its mass convulsing as parts of it simply ceased to exist.
Emily stepped forward, placing herself between it and the path Sam had taken.
"I'll be your opponent," she said, her voice cutting through the chaos with cold certainty.
She didn't look back.
"Henry—you're with me. Support."
For a moment, Henry said nothing.
His grip tightened around his wand, knuckles pale.
Since stepping into this nightmare, he had seen more horror than most people could endure in a lifetime. Enough to break weaker minds. Enough to send anyone running.
He had wanted to.
God, he had wanted to.
But he didn't move.
Didn't run.
Didn't hide.
Instead, he forced himself to breathe through the nausea, through the fear clawing at his chest. Forced his legs to stay rooted where they were.
Because if he ran now—
Then everything they had seen… everything they had endured…
Would mean nothing.
Henry swallowed hard and nodded.
"…Got it."
And for the first time since entering that cursed place—
He chose to stand.
He had chosen this.
No one forced him.
Henry had chosen to become a Guardian—to stand on the edge of a world most would never even glimpse, let alone survive. He had chosen to stake his life beside Samantha, to fight as her teammate, to follow her… even into a place like this.
A dead land.
A place where life was reduced to fuel.
Why?
At first, the answer had been simple.
Love.
He told himself it was because he loved her—the quiet, unshakable feeling that had taken root the moment he first saw Sam. He believed that was enough. That it had to be enough.
But now—
Standing here, with the remnants of Emily's Ascendant magic still lingering in the air like a sacred afterimage—
He understood.
That wasn't the truth.
Or at least… not all of it.
What stirred within him ran deeper than affection, deeper than longing.
It was hunger.
A yearning that burned in his chest, fierce and undeniable.
Magic.
Not the shallow tricks he had known.
Not the rigid, suffocating structure of Dormant Magecraft, bound by fragile systems and incomplete understanding.
No—
What he had witnessed here… what he had felt through Emily…
That was real magic.
Raw. Absolute. Unrestricted.
Alive.
Henry's fingers tightened around his wand.
I want that…
Not borrowed power.
Not scraps.
He wanted to become a True Mage—one who could touch the foundation of the world itself. Someone who wasn't limited by a dormant soul core, or the absence of a mana core, or the outdated systems that defined the weak.
He wanted to understand.
To climb.
To reach the very pinnacle of magic—
And then keep going.
The realization settled into him with quiet clarity.
This journey had given him two truths he could no longer deny.
The first—
He was in love with magic itself.
Not as a tool.
Not as a means to an end.
But as something sacred.
Something infinite.
He wanted to learn it, master it, reshape it—to chase it beyond its limits and see what waited at the edge of that horizon.
The second—
He was painfully, undeniably small.
A human.
A fragile being trying to grasp the secrets of a universe that barely acknowledged his existence.
It was like an ant attempting to comprehend the architecture of a city.
Absurd.
Hopeless.
And yet—
He couldn't stop.
Because even knowing that truth… even seeing the gap between himself and someone like Emily Legens—
He still wanted to try.
He had to.
Because for all his weakness… for all his insignificance—
He had chosen this path.
And he wouldn't turn away from it now.
Even if all he could do… was stand behind her.
Even if all he could be… was support.
That was enough.
For now.
—
Above them, the darkness stirred.
Then it descended.
Infernal energy poured downward like a storm, a spiraling torrent of blackened particles that fell in a violent cascade. The air twisted as the energy gathered, condensing into a single point.
The pressure alone was suffocating.
The mass pulsed—
And began to take shape.
A figure emerged.
Tall.
Lanky.
Its frame stretched unnaturally, standing at over six feet, its proportions wrong in a way that made the eyes linger too long. Grey skin clung tightly to its form, while black armor encased its upper body—a jagged, organic plating that seemed grown rather than forged.
A dark helm concealed its face.
A skirt of blackened armor hung from its waist, shifting slightly as it moved.
Its feet—
Bare.
But not human.
Three clawed digits pressed against the ground, anchoring it with an unnatural stillness.
It didn't breathe.
Didn't twitch.
It simply stood there.
Watching.
Emily didn't move.
Her gaze remained fixed on it, her expression unreadable—but her senses sharpened, cutting through the layers of energy surrounding the being.
There was something wrong.
Not just corrupted.
Not just evolved.
Different.
"…A Greater-rank," she murmured softly.
Then her eyes narrowed.
No.
That wasn't right.
The feeling it gave off—
The presence coiling beneath its surface—
This wasn't the aura of a Beast Abomination.
It was something else entirely.
"How… how are you here?" Emily asked.
The Devil smiled.
Not a grin of amusement—something colder. Older. As if the question itself was beneath him.
The Infernal Plane.
A realm that existed parallel to the Divine Plane, the Physical Plane, and the Afterlife—a world carved from the Abyss itself. It was the closest domain to the primordial Void from which the universe had first been born.
A place of origin.
And imprisonment.
Billions of years ago, the gods had cast their enemies into that abyssal realm—sealing away entities that could not be destroyed. Among them were the Devils: a race of Infernal beings whose very nature opposed creation itself.
Where the gods built—
They unmade.
Where life flourished—
They devoured.
When Abominations spread across a world, corrupting land with Infernal energy, the truth was far more terrifying than most realized.
They were not merely invading.
They were opening the door.
Summoning fragments of the Infernal Plane into the Physical world—forcing two incompatible realities to overlap.
An act that defied universal law.
Because Infernal beings were not meant to exist here.
Their presence alone could distort causality… erode fate… unravel the natural order of existence.
And yet—
One stood before Emily.
A Devil who had succeeded where countless others had failed.
Balial.
He had not crossed over in full.
Not yet.
Instead, he had done something far more insidious.
He had anchored his ego—his very consciousness—into the Mid-rank Abomination that had lurked within the mass above. Then, by devouring the lesser creatures, he reshaped their bodies into a vessel… one capable of sustaining his existence within the Physical Plane.
A crude incarnation.
But functional.
His true body still remained in the Infernal Plane.
Abandoned.
For this opportunity.
For the chance to exist here.
To touch reality.
To claim it.
Such a feat was coveted beyond reason among his kind. Entire legions would annihilate each other for a chance like this.
And Balial had seized it.
Now—
He intended to keep it.
Six eyes opened across the surface of his helm, each one gleaming with malignant awareness as they fixed onto Emily.
Evaluating.
Measuring.
Remembering.
The last time he had attempted this… he had been driven back. Cast out by one of the gods' servants—a red-haired Dragonborn Pleiadian whose power had scorched his spirit and sent him reeling back into the Infernal depths.
The wound had healed.
But the memory had not.
And now—
He had returned.
"Pleiadian," Balial said, his voice layered, as though multiple beings spoke in unison beneath a single tone. "I will grant you one chance."
The air grew heavy.
"Bow."
A pulse of heat rippled outward from his body, distorting the space around him.
"I am Balial… Herald of the Demon King Eligos."
An orange arc of searing energy sliced toward him.
Emily's response.
Balial stepped aside.
Effortlessly.
The attack passed where he had stood a fraction of a second before.
"[Dancing Twilight: Hush Zone—Falling Dusk Blade.]"
Darkness unfolded.
Not natural shadow—
But absolute silence given form.
A veil spread between them, swallowing everything within its domain. Sound vanished. Light collapsed. Even the sense of presence was erased, as though the space itself had been severed from reality.
Inside the zone—
Nothing existed.
Except the kill.
Blades of darkness manifested without warning, striking from every direction, each one aimed to impale, sever, annihilate.
Balial did not panic.
Infernal energy surged outward, condensing into a dense barrier that wrapped around his body. The blades struck—
And stopped.
For a moment.
Then the Devil pushed.
Violence erupted.
The barrier expanded explosively, shattering the silent veil into fragments of dissipating darkness. The zone collapsed, its laws broken, and Emily was thrown back by the force.
Henry reacted instantly.
A gust of wind coiled around her, catching her mid-flight and softening her descent as she flipped through the air.
Balial rose.
Slowly.
Testing.
His new body responded perfectly—every movement fluid, every channel saturated with the Infernal energy saturating the area. This vessel… this environment…
It was ideal.
But not permanent.
He knew that.
This world rejected him.
Time was limited.
Which meant—
He had to act quickly.
His gaze shifted upward, beyond the structure… beyond the sky itself.
Toward the star at the center of this system.
If I devour it…
Cosmic Od.
An entire star's worth.
If he consumed that power, he could rip open reality itself—tear a permanent wound between the Infernal and Physical planes.
A gate.
A path.
A conquest.
All for his King.
Balial's body flickered as he attempted to move—
To slip through space itself—
But—
—It failed.
White light descended.
Solid.
Absolute.
Staves of radiant energy slammed into position around him, forming a cage that locked the surrounding space into place. The distorted fabric of reality snapped back to order, severing his connection to spatial manipulation.
The staves burned.
Not with heat—
But with law.
Each pulse of light pierced into his flesh, searing through his Infernal form as though rejecting his very existence.
Balial's expression darkened.
Below him—
Emily landed.
Silent.
Controlled.
Her feet touched the ground without a sound as she rose from her stance, twin blades held at her sides.
Both weapons pulsed with a deep, ominous glow—darkness tinged with violet, dense with a presence that felt… wrong.
Not Infernal.
Not divine.
Something else.
Something dangerous.
Balial's six eyes narrowed.
Who is this woman…?
He had dismissed her at first—just another Pleiadian.
Insignificant.
But now—
The power radiating from her blades… the quiet, suffocating weight behind her stance…
It stirred something unfamiliar within him.
Not fear.
Not yet.
But caution.
And for a Devil—
That alone meant everything.
"[Dancing Twilight: Devouring Bliss.]"
Emily moved first.
A wave of purplish-dark radiance surged from her blades—an impossible fusion of light and darkness, braided together into something that defied natural law. It wasn't simply illumination or shadow.
It was something else.
Something wrong.
The moment it appeared, Balial felt it.
Fear.
Not the instinctual caution of battle—but something deeper, older. A foreign sensation coiling within his Infernal core, whispering of annihilation.
He reacted instantly.
The radiant staves binding him shattered under a violent surge of Infernal energy as he tore free, leaping back just as the wave tore through the space he had occupied.
But the attack did not fade.
It adapted.
The exotic light consumed the remnants of the staves, devouring the very constructs meant to restrain him. With each fragment it absorbed, the wave grew denser… more unstable… more hungry.
And it continued coming.
Relentless.
"Begone."
Balial's voice carried weight.
Authority.
His Word Soul Magic ignited, Infernal power woven into a single command meant to erase both the attack… and the one who cast it.
Reality responded.
For a fraction of a second.
Then—
It failed.
The moment his power collided with the purplish radiance, the Infernal energy unraveled. Not resisted.
Not overpowered.
Neutralized.
Stripped of meaning.
The wave collapsed at the same instant—but so did his spell, both forces annihilating one another in a violent discharge that left the air trembling in their wake.
Balial froze.
Six eyes widened beneath his helm.
Impossible.
His Word Magic didn't just counter—it imposed.
It dictated.
And yet—
It had been denied.
"…What are you?" he murmured, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
Below, Emily staggered.
A sharp cough tore from her throat as blood spilled past her lips, staining the ground beneath her feet. Her body trembled under the strain, every system pushed far beyond its limits.
Her mental wards flickered—thin, unstable.
Her soul core and star core had been nearly drained, their energy consumed in the violent conversion of Od required to shape that attack.
Even her mana core—
Nearly empty.
She had poured everything into that strike.
Everything.
And it still hadn't been enough.
Emily steadied herself, tightening her grip on her blades despite the tremor running through her arms.
I still can't draw it out…
The true power of her Ability Factor remained just beyond her grasp—something she could touch, but not yet wield without consequence.
And now—
Her body was paying the price for even trying.
She lifted her gaze back to Balial.
Letting him live… wasn't an option.
A Fifth-Layer Greater Devil who had manifested a physical body in the Material Plane—
That was a catastrophe waiting to unfold.
Balial was not like Geb.
Geb was stronger in rank—a Sixth-Layer Greater Abomination.
But he was still just that—
An Abomination.
A creature born of corruption.
Balial, however—
Was native to the Infernal Plane.
Born in it.
Forged by it.
His soul wasn't merely corrupted—
It was refined in corruption.
Denser. Sharper. More complete.
Far more dangerous.
Emily quickly assessed what remained of her energy.
It wasn't enough.
Not for a prolonged fight.
Not against this.
Across from her, Balial was doing the same.
He had expected slaughter.
Expected to descend upon this world and drown it in carnage in his King's name.
But reality rarely aligned with expectation.
There were always obstacles.
And this girl—
She had just become one.
His gaze lingered on her blades.
On that thing she had summoned.
That unnatural fusion.
That presence.
For the first time since manifesting—
Balial hesitated.
Not outwardly.
But within.
His instincts screamed.
A primal warning, echoing through every layer of his Infernal being.
Do not touch that.
It wasn't fear of defeat.
It was something more fundamental.
A recognition.
As if the very concept behind that power… stood in opposition to his existence.
Balial's eyes hardened.
Then she dies from a distance.
There would be no recklessness.
No arrogance.
Not anymore.
Because whatever she was—
She was no ordinary Pleiadian.
She's weakened…
Balial's six eyes narrowed as he studied Emily, measuring the tremor in her stance, the instability in her aura.
But that power…
That thing she had manifested.
If she used it again—fully, without restraint—
Even he would suffer for it.
I can kill her, he thought. But not without risk.
And there was something else.
Beyond this battlefield, far above—
A greater clash.
A presence.
Powerful.
Violent.
Clashing against another of similar weight.
That one…
Balial's gaze flickered upward for a fraction of a second.
If he finishes his opponent and comes here… I may not survive.
That was unacceptable.
He had clawed his way into this world—abandoned his true body, endured defeat, endured humiliation—
All for this chance.
He would not lose it now.
Not after the red-haired one had driven him back before.
Not again.
No… I won't let this opportunity slip away.
His decision settled instantly.
Dark wings erupted from his back, unfurling in a surge of Infernal energy as his intent sharpened into action.
—
Emily moved.
A blur.
Rapid Step carried her forward in a flash, closing the distance before Balial could take to the air. Her blade descended in a lethal arc, aimed directly at his core.
Precise.
Decisive.
Balial met it.
Steel clashed against Infernal force as he knocked the strike aside, redirecting the blade just enough to open an angle. His body twisted—
And he drove an uppercut toward her.
Fast.
Crushing.
A wall of wind formed instantly.
Henry.
The barrier absorbed the impact, dispersing the force in a violent ripple of air that cracked outward like a shockwave.
Balial's gaze shifted.
For the first time—
He noticed him.
The human standing behind her.
A frown creased beneath his helm.
Support.
Emily didn't give him time to think.
She pivoted, her body flowing into motion as she launched a diagonal kick toward his head, aiming to disrupt his balance and create an opening.
Balial caught it.
Effortlessly.
His grip tightened around her leg as Infernal strength surged through his arm.
Then—
He threw her.
Upward.
With overwhelming force.
Emily's body shot through the air like a projectile, crashing through the weakened ceiling above as debris shattered around her.
"Emily—!"
Henry moved without hesitation.
Wind spiraled around his body, lifting him as he leapt upward in pursuit. He caught her mid-flight just as they burst through the last layer of concrete, both of them breaking free from the building—
Into the open sky.
Cold air rushed past them.
Below—
The rooftop came into view.
And there it was.
The Infernal engine.
A grotesque construct of pulsing veins and mechanical structure, embedded into the building like a parasite. It churned endlessly, releasing thick clouds of Infernal energy that bled into the atmosphere, staining the sky in dark, suffocating hues.
And beside it—
Sam.
Kneeling.
Alone.
Right at the heart of it all.
Leaving Emily and Henry behind to face the Abomination gnawed at Sam's chest, a quiet unease she couldn't shake. It felt wrong—like abandoning something unfinished.
But the madness above…
That had to end.
Emily's words echoed in her mind as she sprinted up the stairwell, each step heavier than the last.
Small Abominations swarmed her path—twisted, round creatures with a single bulging eye and rows of jagged yellow fangs. They leapt at her in erratic bursts, shrieking as they lunged.
Sam didn't slow down.
Her fists moved instinctively, each strike carrying bursts of compressed air that sent the creatures hurtling back, their bodies smashing against walls and railings.
The door to the roof—
She didn't open it.
The pressure of her movement alone tore it from its hinges.
—
The moment she stepped outside—
It hit her.
A suffocating weight pressed down from above, thick with Infernal energy. The air thinned instantly, her lungs seizing as if the world itself refused to let her breathe.
For a moment—
She couldn't move.
But Sam clenched her jaw and forced herself forward, pushing through the invisible pressure as her body adapted, step by step, toward the source.
Toward the machine.
—
And then she saw it.
The Infernal engine.
A grotesque construct of metal and flesh, its surface engraved with countless human faces—each one frozen in expressions of agony, madness, despair.
It was horrifying.
And yet—
Beautiful.
In a twisted, perverse way, it resembled a masterpiece—an intricate work crafted by a mind of terrifying genius.
For a fleeting moment, Sam almost understood the allure.
Almost.
But then she felt it.
The pain.
The anger.
The screaming.
Thousands—no, countless souls trapped within, their suffering fueling the machine as it exhaled waves of corrupted energy into the sky.
The darkness churned.
Her vision swam.
The screams grew louder.
Too loud.
Her balance faltered, the world tilting violently as she dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
—
"Sam! Sam! Wake up! Wake up!"
Her eyes snapped open.
Blurred vision slowly sharpened—
And she froze.
"Aunt… Stella…?"
Her aunt stood before her, worry etched across her face. Her blonde hair was loose, her soft features illuminated by the dim light of a bedroom Sam hadn't seen in years.
Before Sam could process it, Stella climbed onto the bed and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"It's okay… it's okay. You're safe. You're alright."
Sam didn't understand.
Where was she?
What… was happening?
Her thoughts felt sluggish, like drifting through fog. Memories slipped through her fingers the moment she tried to grasp them.
"Another nightmare again," Stella murmured.
Sam felt herself nod.
Not because she chose to—
But because something deeper was guiding her through the memory.
—
Days passed in an instant.
Sam watched herself—smaller, fragile—returning home after the hospital. The weight of survival pressed heavily on her chest, a reality she hadn't yet learned how to carry.
Her father was gone.
And parts of her memory… gone with him.
Ten years blurred into fragments.
Faces. Moments. Laughter.
Broken pieces scattered in the aftermath of a four-year coma.
Sleep didn't come easy.
Neither did solitude.
—
The scene shifted.
A car ride.
A plaza.
Austin Plaza.
Sam sat in the passenger seat, hoodie pulled low over her face, shrinking from the world outside. Every passerby felt like a threat—every glance, every movement too close.
She didn't want to be seen.
"High school is coming up," Stella said gently. "We need to get you some new clothes."
Sam said nothing.
The store doors opened.
Susan's Chic Dress.
Bright. Ordinary. Safe.
Or at least… it had been.
They moved through the aisles, Stella trying—patiently, endlessly—to pull Sam back into the world.
"You won't make friends if you don't try," Stella said, stepping out of the dressing room.
Sam sat hunched in a chair, arms wrapped around herself.
"I don't care," she muttered. "I don't want to be the freak who lost her father."
"…Samantha…"
Pain flickered across Stella's face.
—
The memory shattered.
Reformed.
A different night.
The front door slammed open as Sam stumbled inside, her movements unsteady, her words slurred.
"Don't you walk away from me!" Stella's voice echoed behind her.
The house was warm. Safe. Lived in.
But Sam didn't feel it.
"I-it's my life…" she slurred, turning with glassy eyes.
Fifteen.
And already drowning.
Alcohol blurred the edges of the pain—but never erased it. The grief, the guilt, the suffocating weight of survival—it all lingered beneath the surface.
She stood before a mirror.
Stared at herself.
Pathetic.
Worthless.
Alive… when he wasn't.
The scissors trembled in her hand as something dark crept into her chest, whispering, tempting—
The blade pressed against her skin.
A thin line.
A drop of blood—
"Stop."
The voice wasn't loud.
But it carried absolute authority.
Light flooded the room.
Blinding.
—
The world changed.
A battlefield.
Endless.
The sky burned in shades of dark red, streaked with black lightning. Bodies littered the ground—thousands upon thousands, human and Beastman alike, their forms tangled in a sea of death.
The air reeked of iron and ruin.
Sam stood in the middle of it all, her breath caught in her throat.
This place—
It felt familiar.
Too familiar.
Like something she wasn't supposed to remember.
—
War raged.
Humans clad in green armor clashed against Beastmen wielding claws and fangs, their battle tearing the land apart.
But at the center—
There was one figure.
A woman.
Slender. Calm. Terrifying.
Dark green armor wrapped her upper body, her arms encased in vambraces similar to Sam's own. Her long green hair flowed behind her, stained with blood, her olive skin marked by the carnage she had wrought.
In her hands—
A greatsword.
A translucent green blade that carved craters into the earth with every swing.
She was unstoppable.
A force of nature.
Bodies flew wherever she moved, torn apart by shockwaves of pressure. Blood painted her form, yet she walked through it all without hesitation—
Alive.
Thriving.
Relishing it.
Then—
She stopped.
Before a small figure.
A boy.
Orange hair. Feline eyes. Armor stained with fury.
"You should not be here," the warrior said.
It took Sam a moment to realize—
She wasn't speaking to the boy.
She was speaking to her.
"This battle has already been lived," the woman continued, turning away. "You have your own to finish."
Her voice sharpened.
"Wake up."
—
Sam's eyes snapped open.
Reality crashed back in.
The rooftop.
The engine.
The sky—
Emily and Henry were falling from above, breaking through the roof in a cascade of debris.
And then—
Light.
A golden streak tore through the corrupted sky.
The deer.
The same mystic beast she had encountered in the forest.
It descended through the black clouds, its hooves leaving behind motes of radiant light that purified the darkness wherever they touched.
Graceful.
Divine.
It landed before her—
And shattered into countless fragments of white light.
The motes circled her.
Then—
They entered her.
Sam gasped as the energy flooded into her body, surging through her core like a forgotten memory returning to life.
Warm.
Familiar.
Powerful.
Something within her—
Awakened.