Ren’s punch landed with a thunderous crack, sending the one-horned demon hurtling through the valley wall in a burst of blood and stone. Dust billowed where the demon crashed, his body twitching as he struggled to stand—alive, but barely.

  The second demon turned sharply, eyes narrowing in sudden disbelief. That speed… that strength… It wasn’t human.

  Before he could act, Rex lunged between them, sword flashing in the dim light.

  “Focus on me, demon scum!” Rex roared, slamming his blade down with enough force to shatter the ground beneath them.

  Steel clashed against claw. The second demon staggered back, hissing, but Rex didn’t let up.

  “Ren!” he barked, eyes flicking to the side. “Don’t waste time! Go help Commander Raguel!”

  Ren turned, breathing heavy. “What? What happened?”

  Rex gritted his teeth. “Those bastards… they took Alys. She lost control—went berserk and killed one of their own. She’s gone, man. Vanished.”

  Ren’s eyes widened, blood draining from his face. “Alys… killed a demon?”

  “She couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t her. Something’s wrong. They twisted her into—something else.”

  Ren’s heart pounded. Rage and confusion surged in equal measure. Alys… gone?

  Rex, despite his wounds, stood firm against the demon’s advance. “I’ll deal with these two. You go. Raguel needs you.”

  For a moment, Ren hesitated. Then his expression hardened. He reached into his pouch, pulling out a strip of cloth and tying it tight across his forehead, stemming the blood that trickled from the wound above his brow. His fingers trembled—not with fear, but with resolve.

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  “Heh,” he muttered, voice dark. “If I can’t handle these bastards, how the hell am I supposed to face the dragons?”

  He turned toward the direction of the fading thunder and fire. His fingers closed around the hilt of his blade, and something shifted in his eyes—something feral.

  Then he was gone, a blur in the wind.

  Elsewhere, the clash of ideologies rang louder than weapons.

  Raguel stood amidst a shattered clearing, his massive form breathing heavily. Blood dripped from deep slashes across his arms and torso, but he remained unyielding. Before him stood the two Four-Star Demon Lords—calm, untouched, adorned in noble robes lined with gold, their presence regal, unshaken.

  “You speak of justice,” one of them said, tone lazy and amused. “But your ‘justice’ is as shallow as your people's morality.”

  Raguel’s snarl deepened, claws flexing.

  “You humans—” the other demon continued, “—you seal what you fear. And you feared us. Not because we were evil. But because we were better.”

  Raguel’s jaw clenched.

  “Power. Magic. Technology. Innovation. We were beyond you. And what did the humans do? They labeled us as threats. Monsters. They sealed us away and called it righteous.”

  The first demon stepped forward, gesturing to the flourishing valley. “Look around. Before we arrived, this land was a graveyard. Starving villages. Dying soil. Humans bled it dry.”

  “But we?” The second demon smiled. “We brought life back. Stability. And the people welcomed us. They saw what you refuse to admit.”

  “You’re lying,” Raguel growled. “All you bring is death.”

  “No,” the demon said. “We bring order. The death came from your side. Your kind… always starts the war.”

  The words pierced deeper than they should have—and Raguel felt it.

  A flicker of doubt.

  And in that flicker—his past surged to the surface.

  The cold clink of chains.

  The smell of rich perfume and rotten souls.

  He was young—too young—caged and displayed like a rare beast, his black fur and blue eyes praised, but never honored. The nobles laughed as they threw scraps at him, called him “the lion mutt.”

  He remembered the helplessness. The way they paraded him at their twisted gatherings, a trophy for their cruelty.

  Until he came.

  A boy. Just a boy. Ragged clothes, scarred hands. He moved like a ghost through the estate, cutting down the nobles without mercy. And when he opened Raguel’s cage, Raguel, overwhelmed by hate, bit his hand—deep, drawing blood.

  The boy didn’t flinch.

  Instead, he knelt down and whispered, “No one will hurt you again.”

  Raguel had stared, wide-eyed. No one had ever said that to him.

  He cried. And for the first time, he believed someone.

  That boy… Michael.

  His master. His friend. His salvation. his justice

  The memory shattered as flames surged toward him. Raguel raised his arm just in time, the blast knocking him back, but he remained on his feet.

  And in that moment—Ren arrived.

  Like a ghost reborn in fire.

  He crashed into the battlefield with a shockwave, deflecting the demon’s next spell with his blade. The ground cracked beneath him.

  The silver-haired demon raised an eyebrow. “Ah… so the little hatchling finally shows his fangs.”

  Ren didn’t say a word. His presence alone shifted the battlefield’s air.

  But then—

  The demon’s lips curled into a smile. “Isn’t that right… Prince?”

  Ren froze, the word ringing in his skull like a war drum. His blade trembled, but it wasn’t from fear—it was from something deeper. Something waking.

  “What… did you say?”