The sound of tearing flesh, melting fat, and snapping bones fractured the air—mingling with wails, shrieks, and screams that thrashed in desperation. The stench of char and the metallic tang of blood stung the nose. The muddy ground was thick with dark red puddles that were still warm, emitting steam like the breath of hell itself.
War.
The Demon King descended directly into the heart of the central forces, accompanied by his four Generals. There was no signal, no formation, no warning. Only a burst of black light—and then, everything shattered.
They teleported right into the middle of the dense human ranks as if space-warding spells had never existed. The orderly formation unraveled instantly into chaos: banners fell, commanders' shouts were swallowed by the cacophony of death, and men scrambled for directions that no longer existed.
This should have been impossible. Every sane war commander knows that teleportation disruptors are always installed before a battle begins. This left only one possibility: a betrayal from within the Hero's faction. Yet amidst this destruction, not a single soldier had the time to ponder who the traitor was. They were too busy trying to stay alive.
The earth trembled. From a distance, a black wave could be seen galloping closer, like a tidal wave intent on crushing a fragile shore.
The central army of the Demon Kingdom.
If they managed to merge with the Demon King's assault, the human central forces would be pulverized without a trace. With the ranks scattered like this, no formation could be built—no shield walls, no pike lines. Only bodies and fear.
Mujun and the Hero's Party entered the fray immediately. Reina dragged Nestal, whose face was growing increasingly ashen, toward the eye of the magical storm—toward an aura so dense the air felt heavy to breathe. But before they could draw near, someone fell from the sky like a meteorite, blocking their path.
The three-horned demon stood tall, his frame towering over two meters. Cracks ran through his skin, and from those fissures flowed a red-orange light—living magma that dripped and vaporized the ground wherever it fell. His muscles were taut like mountain boulders forced into motion, and every breath released scorching smoke. Three twisted horns adorned his head like a crown of war, and his eyes glowed yellow—calm, filled with the certainty of an executioner who knew his craft well.
The ground around him turned black, cracked, and smoking. He was one of the four Demon Generals. And without needing to ask, everyone knew his purpose: to sever their path to the Demon King.
"Let me handle him, you go on ahead!" Pritty cried out, her voice trembling slightly before hardening with conviction at the end.
Her staff rose. Before the demon could utter a word, a golden-white light entwined them both, warping the space around them. In an instant, both vanished, as if plucked from the world. The magical surge made the air twitch like the surface of water struck by a stone.
Mujun narrowed his eyes. He recognized that spell.
Sacred Authority. A spell that forcibly drags an enemy into an isolated dimension. A spell originally designed to pull an enemy in to be ganged upon by allies. Now, Pritty was using it to remove herself from the battle so the path for the others would open. A choice that was calm… yet cruel toward herself.
They hadn't gone far when another figure glided in to intercept them.
This time it wasn't a magma giant, but a striking contrast: a demon with a lithe body and seductive curves, moving with light steps as if walking through a ballroom instead of a battlefield. Her skin was pitch black like polished charcoal, reflecting the glow of the surrounding fires. A long tail coiled around her waist, twitching slightly like a hissing snake. Fiery red hair flowed and billowed wildly, as if tongues of flame followed her every move. Two horns curved backward, smooth and symmetrical—more beautiful than terrifying—but her yellow eyes watched like a predator who knew exactly how fragile its prey was.
A thin leather bikini covered only the vital parts of her body; the rest was left exposed with a confidence that was almost insulting. Every movement radiated a poison of temptation and danger mixed into one.
Her smile was not friendly. It was hungry.
Seeing her, Brienna's face hardened instantly. No greetings. No words. Only a bow raised and an arrow loomed. The demon's movements became fluid, dancing between the arrow trajectories with a soft laugh that could only be heard by those close enough to die.
Their fight exploded into ferocity immediately, as if two fists of resentment had long waited to crush one another. From Brienna's gaze, Mujun knew—this was more than just a duel. There was something in that demon's appearance that ignited an ember she had long kept suppressed.
For Mujun, that was enough. The female demon was busy now. Their path was open.
Reina thought the same; she again dragged the trembling Nestal, stepping deeper into the vortex of the Demon King's aura.
But once more, their steps were halted.
A massive figure stood blocking them—without drawing a weapon, without enlarging his frame, without threatening words. He simply stood there. Yet the world around him seemed to shrink.
The Demi-human King.
Nestal immediately recoiled, his breath hitching, like someone suddenly remembering their deepest nightmare. But Reina's grip on his collar left no room to run. The Demi-human King didn't even look at Nestal. His gaze was fixed on only one person.
Mujun.
Silence. Meaningful. Weighty.
Reina understood; he hadn't come to obstruct. He had come to speak.
"Reina, you go on ahead," Mujun said calmly. "There are things I wish to discuss with Leon."
The Demi-human King did not deny it, did not nod, did not speak—but the look in his eyes was answer enough.
Reina stared at Leon for a moment, weighing the situation, then nodded. She pulled Nestal back, and this time the Hero did not resist—his fear of Leon was far greater than his shame.
It was just the two of them. In the middle of a collapsing world.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty," Mujun bowed calmly. Amidst the screams, the smell of burning flesh, and the thunder of magic shaking the earth, the two figures stood as if the war were happening in another world.
They were enemies. Yet there was no hatred there—only mutual recognition.