The night was thick with cold and death.
Aerik moved through the snow with slow, measured steps, torchlight flickering against the crimson-streaked trees.
Behind him, the remaining mages from his squad crept forward—ten in total, all Rank 2.
The mountain stank—burnt fur, singed flesh, and something older.
Deeper.
Wrong.
A few minutes ago, they'd heard a scream—human, raw and sudden.
Now they were headed straight for it.
Aerik kept glancing at Eiden.
The boy walked like he was out for a stroll.
No tension in his shoulders.
No caution in his steps.
His golden sword glinted faintly, untouched by snow or soot.
Aerik couldn't hold back.
"You look… exceptionally calm," he muttered.
Eiden chuckled, barely looking his way.
"What's there to fear? We outnumber whatever it is."
Aerik tried to nod.
Tried to believe it.
But something itched in his chest.
Some deep instinct he couldn't quiet.
The kind that whispered when a predator was near.
The group pushed deeper into the woods.
The snow crunched under boots.
The torchlight danced.
And then—
A scream.
Closer this time.
It came from within their own group.
A torch hissed out, swallowed by the dark.
Everyone froze.
Heads turned.
Mouths parted.
No one spoke.
Aerik's heart thudded in his chest as he counted bodies.
Eleven.
They had been twelve.
Now they were eleven.
"…Someone's missing," he whispered.
Then—
Rustling.
In the grass.
All heads snapped toward the sound.
Nothing but black trees.
Another scream ripped through the night.
Short.
Violent.
Then silence.
Aerik spun around.
Now they were ten.
His legs trembled.
The cold sweat on his neck turned ice.
Beside him, Eiden's casual air evaporated.
His face turned cold.
Focused.
"…It's not a beast," Eiden muttered.
And then—
BOOM
A blast of raw mana erupted in their midst, sending mages flying like rag dolls.
Shields snapped into place, too late to matter.
The hunt had begun.
From the trees came a barrage of mana orbs—dozens of them, too fast to react.
There was no chanting.
No pause between spells.
Just destruction.
Continuous.
Relentless.
"What the hell is this?!" one mage shouted.
"This isn't normal—!"
"Who the fuck can cast this fast?!"
Aerik's heart thundered.
Continuous casting… that was impossible.
Even trained mages needed seconds to channel.
But this?
This was a massacre.
It was raining death.
"Could there be multiple attackers?" someone yelled.
Aerik didn't answer.
Eiden, however, stepped forward and roared into the trees,
"Coward! Come out and face us!"
Aerik whipped toward him.
"Are you fucking insane?! Don't invite it—!"
BOOM.
Another explosion.
This one was different.
A mana sphere the size of a carriage tore through the line.
Heat scorched flesh.
Air twisted.
Several mages were vaporized instantly.
Gone.
Ash on the wind.
Aerik's ears rang.
His shield cracked, but held.
Barely.
Smoke and flame choked the clearing.
Snow hissed as it melted into steam.
Silence.
When it cleared—
Only four were left.
Aerik.
Eiden.
And two more.
Breathing hard.
Bleeding.
Shaking.
The shadows crept closer.
The light felt thinner.
Aerik couldn't speak.
Could barely stand.
He felt it now—truly felt it.
They weren't hunting anything.
They were being hunted.
And the thing that stalked them…
Was no beast.
It was worse.
Much worse.
From the shadows… he emerged.
Slow.
Silent.
Like death had taken a stroll down the mountain.
Aerik's breath caught in his throat.
The figure wore flowing black robes, ragged at the edges and stained with blood.
A crimson demon mask obscured his face—horned, angular, impossible to read.
In his hand… a red katana.
Still dripping.
The snow hissed as the blood hit it.
Aerik's mouth went dry.
He took a step back, muttering the name like a curse.
"D-D-Devil…"
Eiden tilted his head, curious.
"The Devil?" he murmured, eyes flashing strangely beneath his golden fringe.
The masked figure didn't speak.
He simply stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and the last two terrified mages.
One raised his hand to cast.
Too slow.
Kael's palm lit with raw energy—Arcanum Vortex—and he fired at point-blank range.
The spell hit like a cannon.
The mage's shield barely formed before his head vanished.
Gone.
Nothing remained but a ruined body and a collapsing spell circle.
The second mage turned to run.
Kael exhaled—bored now.
Hollowrush.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of the man and drove his red blade into his heart with surgical precision.
The body slumped without a sound.
Aerik screamed—high and panicked.
Somewhere above, Yue exhaled sharply.
"Well, that's rich. Where's the cocky little princeling from the arena now?" she muttered.
She watched the chaos like someone watching a tragic soap opera.
The black slime, curled silently in Kael's pocket, stared on with unblinking interest.
Then—
A shift.
Eiden stepped forward.
His expression unreadable.
"So you're the infamous Devil," he said, voice casual… too casual.
Yue stiffened.
Something about him changed.
Subtle.
Wrong.
"Your reign of terror ends now," Eiden said, voice rising.
"I, Eiden Lioren, hereby pass judgment upon you."
Silence.
Kael's masked face turned slowly toward him.
There was an awkward pause.
"…What the fuck was that?" Kael muttered.
Even Aerik looked uncomfortable.
Yue blinked like she'd just watched a goose try to recite scripture.
Then—
Her eyes widened.
"Kael, MOVE!"
Too late.
Eiden's posture snapped like a drawn bow.
In one motion, he unsheathed his sword.
A searing arc of golden light burst forward—and he followed behind it like a bullet.
Too fast.
Kael barely registered the attack.
The arc hit.
BOOM.
He was flung back through a frozen tree, crashing through the trunk like a ragdoll.
He groaned, stunned, whispering, "…What the actual—"
But Eiden didn't give him time.
He was already there, golden blade gleaming, slashing down for a second strike.
Aerik stood frozen, eyes wide.
"…Was he… acting weak this whole time?"
His legs moved instinctively.
He ran after them, breath ragged.
Because whatever Eiden was—
It wasn't just a spoiled noble anymore.
And the Devil?
Might've just met his match.