Nine kissed his wife deeply before pulling away, his lips curling into a familiar, teasing smirk. As he turned to leave, he shot a wink at Seven, their young son, who stood beside Aya with an unsettlingly solemn expression, his small hands balled into fists.
"Don't miss me too much," Nine called over his shoulder, waving lazily as he strode away.
He had barely taken three steps when his instincts flared—
SHNK!
A dagger sliced through the air, missing his temple by a hair's breadth before burying itself deep into a tree with a reverberating thunk.
Nine clicked his tongue. "Tsk."
Behind him, Colla sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers twitched toward her belt, but the danger had already passed. The knife had been his—but it wasn't her hand that had thrown it.
Aya stood frozen, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts, her arm still extended from the throw. Her fingers trembled as if even she couldn't quite believe what she had done. A choked sound left her lips—something caught between frustration and immediate regret.
"Ah." Nine exhaled, running a hand through his hair, just as another blade came hurtling toward him. With effortless ease, he leaned to the side, letting it whistle past before it, too, found a home in the bark of a tree.
She was two months pregnant.
And her frustration with him had doubled. No—tripled.
Her cravings had become impossible. Smoked duck one moment, roasted venison the next—but only if he cooked it. If another person so much as touched the meat, she would glare at the dish as if it had been personally defiled.
Then there was her fixation with his hair. She tugged at it whenever she could, threading her fingers through the strands with an almost desperate obsession. If he so much as pulled away, she would scowl as though he had personally betrayed her.
And now, with him preparing to leave, her emotions teetered over the edge.
"Are you really leaving me?!" Aya shouted, her voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. They spilled over in hot, glistening streams down her cheeks. Then, as if only now realizing what she had done, she let out a horrified sob. "Why did I throw a dagger at you?!"
Shin arrived just in time to witness the disaster unfold. He froze mid-step, his sharp gaze flickering from Nine to Aya—then to Colla, who stood rigid, arms crossed as though fighting the urge to intervene. The two of them exchanged glances. A silent agreement: Not our problem.
Meanwhile, Seven remained motionless, his small face pinched into a deep frown as he stared at the spot where his father had vanished.
"It'll only take a day or two," Nine murmured under his breath. His voice was lost to the wind—he was already gone, a shadow leaping across the mountains.
---
From the southern regions to the central plains, an ordinary traveler would take over a month to make the journey.
Nine? He would arrive in hours. Two at most.
The demon faction had orchestrated a grand gathering—an official announcement of the lords. Every major force would be in attendance, from righteous sects to criminal syndicates. On the surface, it was a diplomatic summit, a stage set for treaties and alliances. In truth, it was a battlefield of influence. A place where old grudges were measured against newfound power.
And Nine intended to take full advantage of it.
He knew the so-called righteous sects were riddled with corruption. There would be plenty of snakes in attendance—men who could be bribed, coerced, or bent to his will.
As for the one hosting the event?
Not Shin. No—this was the work of the first son, Shin's eldest brother. A man whose ambitions had once burned hotter than the sun, only to be smothered by fate.
Years ago, he had desperately sought the power of the lords. But the essence had never chosen him.
Now, he was nothing more than a glorified servant to the Lord of Pride.
BOOM!
A thunderous impact shattered the air. Birds erupted from the canopy, their frantic cries fading into the sky.
Nine adjusted his course, veering toward the disturbance. He landed lightly on the branch of a towering pine, his gaze sweeping over the forest below.
There—
Sprawled across the ground lay a man with absurdly long hair, his limbs tangled in the mass of it like a collapsed marionette.
Nine exhaled slowly through his nose.
Honu. The sloth.
Like the others, Honu had kept himself hidden, drifting outside the grasp of both allies and enemies.
Nine turned to leave immediately, continuing on his way.
BOOOOGSHHH!
Another crash.
This time, Honu wasn't simply lying down—he had been launched through the air.
Nine arched a brow as the man tumbled like a ragdoll, limbs flailing uselessly before he slammed back into the dirt with a dull thud.
A slow smirk tugged at Nine's lips.
"That stupid bastard."
Honu had detonated his own essence beneath him, propelling himself forward in bursts. It was an utterly ridiculous sight—he was bouncing across the land like a human ball.
Nine finally landed in front of him, stepping onto the cracked earth left by Honu's latest impact.
The man barely stirred. Heavy-lidded eyes cracked open slightly, only to close again when he saw Nine.
"You… killing me?" Honu mumbled, his voice slow, each syllable stretching as if burdened by exhaustion.
Nine crouched beside him, resting an arm on his knee. "Wanna be my minion?"
Honu let out a breathy chuckle. "Ha… haha… Zzzzz."
Nine's expression twitched.
Did—did he just fall asleep?
Frowning, he nudged Honu with his foot. Nothing. He rolled him over with more force. Still nothing.
Nine sighed, then drew his leg back—before swinging his foot with tremendous force.
WHOOSHHHH!
The impact should have sent Honu flying, but at the last moment, the man lazily raised a single hand—stopping Nine's kick dead in its tracks. The earth trembled from the sheer force.
"…Ouch," Honu muttered half-heartedly, sounding more inconvenienced than anything. He took a deep, exaggerated breath before rolling onto his back again, eyes half-lidded.
"In exchange?" he asked dully.
Nine smirked. "You can sleep all you want. Let me control your domain."
Honu stared at him for a long moment. Then—
"No."
Nine clicked his tongue, scratching his head. "What do you want, then?"
"Money."
Nine let out a dry laugh. "Why am I surrounded by people obsessed with money?"
"My offer," Honu murmured, yawning again, "is friendship."
Nine stilled. Then, unimpressed, he picked his ear with his pinky, flicking away the earwax.
"Friendship formed with money? That's called a business partner, dumbass."
Honu grinned. "Sure, friend."
Nine's eye twitched. Annoyed, he grabbed Honu by the hair.
"Let me give you a hand."
Before Honu could react, Nine spun him in circles at insane speed—faster, faster—before letting go.
WHOOSH!
Honu launched into the sky like a shooting star.
Nine burst into laughter, already sprinting after him.
Far in the distance, Honu's voice echoed back.
"Fucking… bastard."