I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling of cracked rock and jagged stone, a far cry from the lavish ornate marble and polished designer wood I'd been accustomed to all my life.

I lay there on a bed of packed earth for a few moments, breathing slow and steady to let the weight of consciousness settle back into my limbs.

That was when a voice reached me.

A voice I had always found so infuriatingly calm, even in bleak moments like this. A deep and bassy voice that always carried a husky note… and hearing it never failed to soothe me, no matter how much I pretended otherwise.

"Are you going to get up?"

I turned my head toward the sound.

Leaning against the wall to my right stood Juliana, her shoulder-length white hair worn back in a French pull-through braid instead of a simple lob.

Her arms were loosely crossed and her posture was relaxed to the point of indifference, looking as unbothered as ever.

I pushed myself upright with a tired sigh.

"This is the first time in weeks you've properly slept," she said without bothering to mask the obvious curiosity in her tone. "But you were out for eleven hours. I was starting to wonder if I'd have to wake you up myself."

I'd gone out of my way to hide my exhaustion from everyone else throughout this journey.

Because knowing their most important mid-line fighter wasn't operating at full capacity would've done wonders for morale… in all the wrong ways.

Juliana, of course, had noticed anyway.

"You look like hell," she added bluntly, one pale brow lifting over her enchanting oceanic-blue eyes. "How do you look worse than before after sleeping that much?"

"You, too, are charming as ever, Juli." I muttered while rubbing my face. My fingers came away dusty. "Give me a kunai. Preferably one that isn't dipped in poison."

She stared at me for half a second with an odd expression, then reached somewhere behind her and handed one over without another word.

…No, really. Where did she keep these?

By now, I was mostly convinced she had some kind of spatial artifact hidden on her somewhere!

But instead of voicing that entirely unhelpful question, I took the blade, pressed it to my palm… and started carving a name into my skin before it could slip away from my mind.

The name of the Sixth Demon Prince. The one Asmodeus had told me just before I woke up.

"Wha—?!" Juliana gasped. Her eyes went wide as she lunged forward to grab my wrist mid-motion.

I just lifted my hand in a quick gesture, signaling her to stop.

She did, albeit hesitantly, staring at my palm, then at my face. Seeing her composure crack like this sometimes was rare. Unexpectedly so. And… kind of cute. "What are you doing?!"

"Relax," I waved her off, carefully etching uneven letters — X-A-L-D-R-E-T-H — into the topmost layer of skin. The bleeding was minimal, barely more than a thin sheen.

When I looked up at her, she still seemed pale in clear concern like she was genuinely questioning whether I'd finally lost my mind.

I ignored it and changed the topic, leveling my gaze with hers. "Hey, Juli. Hypothetically, if you had to fight someone as strong as me… or maybe even stronger… would you be able to defeat them?"

She didn't answer right away.

Her stance loosened slightly, but the frown on her face hardened into something more severe. "What kind of—"

"Just answer it," I interrupted.

One more time, her eyes drifted back to the crude letters carved into my palm, then slowly lifted back to my face again. Her own gaze was sharp and assessing… but also unsettlingly calm as her composure slowly slid back into place.

"Why are you asking?"

I shrugged. "Maybe because it's not a hypothetical. We might have to fight someone like that soon. Very, very soon."

"…What? That's ridiculous. Who? There aren't many people as strong as you, let alone stronger—"

"Juli," I pressed. "Would you be able to defeat them?"

She kept staring at me for a few moments longer.

Then, very slowly, I saw something visibly shift behind her eyes as they turned glacial — something chillingly certain but also something bordering on madness at the same time.

And I realized her answer before she even voiced it.

"Yes."

•••

The camp outside was quiet.

Everyone was sitting in a loose circle, too tired and too hungry and too sore to talk after days of relentless walking.

The scenery had grown monotonous now. Just a repetitive stretch of rocky canyon hemmed in by towering cliffs, with a forest resting atop them far out of reach. Crimson moonlight washed over the terrain, illuminating nothing else as far as the eye could see.

Vince was slumped against the ground, one arm draped lazily over his face. He wanted to sleep, but the air was too cold. He wanted to crawl into the shelter Samael had erected, but even that felt like too much effort.

The others were nearby in varying states of exhaustion. Some leaned against boulders. Others bowed their heads, conserving what little strength they had left. No one was speaking, not even Ray.

Maybe his camera was still running, recording this dull, lifeless scene. Vince couldn't understand why any of Ray's viewers would want to watch it.

But the fact that even Ray had stopped talking said everything about how worn down they all were.

Vince found himself wondering what would happen if a vicious Spirit Beast attacked them right now.

Thump—

…And he was just beginning to entertain that grim thought when a terrifying presence washed over the camp.

The hairs on Vince's arms stood on end as his breath locked in his throat, refusing to move.

The sudden chill he felt had nothing to do with the cold wind sweeping through the valley, but the air itself seemed to shiver and press down on them like invisible hands against everyone's chest.

Vince jumped to his feet as fast as he was capable, and so did everyone else. Their eyes widened in alarm as they felt the oppressive weight of it — whatever it was.

The sudden murderous presence was crushing enough to make their every muscle ache, every nerve flare up, and every instinct scream at them to surrender to the being exuding this tyrannical aura.

Vince reflexively summoned his Origin Card. Lily, Ray, and Kang did the same. The teen wolf stepped protectively in front of Alexia as cold sweat broke out across their bodies and their breathing turned labored.

Wh… what the hell was this?

This homicidal presence nearly rivaled the intimidation they had felt when facing Vaeghar.

Just who was releasing it?!

Their gazes were drawn toward the makeshift rock hut.

…And what Vince saw there made his blood run cold.

It wasn't a monster…

This frightening pressure was coming from someone he knew, someone all of them knew.

A tall figure was stepping out from the shadow of the shelter… and even beneath the crimson moonlight, there was no mistaking the bloodlust in that guy's psychotic eyes.

Vince felt his stomach twist.

It was Samael.

But not the easygoing, joking, smirking Samael they had grown used to during their shared time in the Noctveil Wilds.

No…

This was the Samael Vince had seen only once before — through a television screen in his dorm room, during a fight that was broadcast across the entire Academy.

The fight where he had dominated and brutally crushed some of the strongest Cadets of their batch just to make a statement that he was unrivaled.

Vince remembered feeling insignificant, helpless, and awestruck all at once at that moment.

The Samael standing before them now radiated that exact same aura — but much more magnified, as if every ounce of dominance he had ever shown, every whisper of fear he had ever inspired, had condensed into this single moment.

He took unhurried steps in their direction, his white-haired Shadow trailing closely behind him. Even without drawing any weapon, the air around him had tightened like a vice.

Each heartbeat Vince felt pounding in his chest echoed in the suffocating presence bearing down on them.

In that moment, Vince understood…

The aura surrounding Samael wasn't merely just power.

It was… authority.

Absolute authority, born from the unshakable belief that he could crush everyone present here like insects if he wished.

…And maybe he could.

Because this... was the Tyrant of Apex.

Vince, Ray, and the others instinctively stepped back as Samael passed by them. Even Lily shifted nervously, despite standing farthest from him.

The golden-haired young man stopped at the very center of the clearing. When he spoke, his voice was colder than the harshest of winters Vince had endured on the streets.

"Everyone," he addressed while not looking at anyone in particular. "Prepare to fight. Kang, protect Alexia. Get her out of here the moment the battle begins."

Vince blinked, then gawked at him confusedly. He heard Kang swallow beside him. Everyone likely wanted to ask the same question on their minds.

Fight whom?

Yet no one dared speak.

Vince tried, opening his mouth, but stopped himself at the last second.

This Samael… he wouldn't kill them for simply speaking out of turn, right?

…Right?

He shook his head. That was ridiculous. Of course he wouldn't! He was Samael! Why would he kill them?

…And yet, when Vince looked around, he realized something unsettling.

There was no one else.

Just him.

Just them.

So who was this killing intent meant for?

Thankfully, Alexia, always braver than most, broke the silence. "Fight… who, Sam?"

Samael smirked a little at that question. "Let's find out."

It again confused the hell out of Vince, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

Because in the very next moment, Samael lowered his gaze to his palm. A few strands of golden hair slipped over his eyes as his jaw tightened.

Then he spoke a single word, a… a name?

"Xaldreth."

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