As Fred and Juliana turned to leave, the garden walls didn't just break—they were demolished. a hundreds Southern soldiers, clad in black-and-silver star-patterned armor, swarmed the estate. Tanks rumbled at the gates, their cannons leveled at the couple.
"Frederick Asterveil of Lord's Vault!" the lead commander shouted, stepping forward. "By order of the Southern Throne, you are under arrest for high treason and the use of forbidden Cursed Arts. Surrender the Princess, and your death will be swift."
Fred didn't flinch. He reached out and gripped the air in front of him.
As the soldiers opened fire, Fred flared his energy. A deep violet sphere of gravity expanded around him and Juliana. The bullets didn't just stop; they hit an invisible wall and were dragged straight down into the dirt, flattened into lead pancakes by the sheer weight of the localized gravity.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, Fred used his telekinesis to grab the lead tank. He didn't just move it; he lifted the multi-ton machine ten feet into the air. With a roar of effort, he hurled the tank into the formation of soldiers, scattering them like bowling pins.
The commander ordered a bayonet charge. Fred slammed both palms toward the ground. A massive wave of red-violet light surged outward. Every soldier within fifty yards was instantly pinned to the earth. The gravity was so intense that their armor began to creak and buckle. They weren't just falling; they were being pulled into the planet itself, unable to lift even a finger.
"You have no idea with who you're dealing with" fred said arrogantly
back to chain and ash
The stillness of a snow-draped night stretched over the village, a world blanketed in white beneath a sky shot through with violet and deep blue. Stars seemed to shiver above, casting a faint light over the cabins where families gathered, unaware of the shadows closing in. Inside one of the cabins, a young boy burst through the doorway, breath visible in the warmth of the room.
"Mom! Look what I found!" he called, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he held out a small trinket. His mother's face softened; she knelt, her hands cupping his cheeks with a warm laugh. "You always find the most amazing things, don't you?" she murmured, brushing his hair back.
But just as she turned to put the trinket on the table, the air shifted. A dark, glinting spear came slicing through the doorway, striking her through the chest. Her eyes went wide—surprised, more than anything. She gasped, clutching the spear in shock as blood blossomed on her dress.
The boy could only watch, too stunned even to scream. Then came the pounding of footsteps outside. Dark shapes moved through the village—soldiers cloaked in black and steel, helms obscuring their faces. They marched forward, eyes fixated, blades drawn, herding villagers like cattle. One of them grinned as he raised his sword and struck down a fleeing elder, the man's blood spilling into a cup held by another soldier.
They were gathering blood, filling goblets one by one, moving through the people like reapers through a field of grain. The boy staggered backward, heart racing, stumbling out the back of the cabin. He tore through the snow, feet slipping, lungs heaving in panic as he heard the footsteps behind him, heavy and unrelenting.
The soldier was close now, the scrape of his blade against the snow sending chills down the boy's spine. Just as the soldier's blade rose, a sudden crack split the air.
The boy looked up, dazed, to see his pursuer lying face-down in the snow, a smoldering hole in his helmet. In his place stood a figure the boy had never seen—a man with black hair streaked with scars, brown skin covered by a tattered black coat. His left arm was a strange metallic construct, glinting with the sheen of dragon scales, and he held a blade that looked as though it had seen countless battles.
Ash didn't look at him at first, his eyes scanning the field, tense and watchful. Then he gave the boy a quick, almost exasperated glance. "Run. That way, into the trees. Don't look back, you hear me?" The boy hesitated, still rooted by terror, but the man nudged him roughly. "Move, kid! There's nothing left for you here. Get out of sight and keep going." His tone was low, almost a growl, eyes dark with an understanding too raw to hide.
The boy turned and ran, his steps uneven, heart hammering as he disappeared into the woods. Behind him, he heard the clash of metal, soldiers' shouts, and wet, heavy thuds. When he dared to look back, he saw ash dispatching soldier after soldier, the snow turning darker with every step he took.
More soldiers converged; guns raised. Shots cracked through the air, sparks flashing as the man ducked and wove through the chaos. With a grunt, he slung a massive gun from his back and fired into the massed soldiers, each shot a brutal explosion that left red stains in the snow.
But down in the center of the village, the priests were finishing their work. The stone they had drenched in the villagers' blood began to pulse, soaking up the dark liquid until the ground shook and the stone cracked, a violent tear in reality. The man's expression shifted, horror dawning on his face as he watched a being
emerge from the stone—a figure tall and gaunt, pale skin glistening faintly. His hair hung long and wild, as if untouched for ages, and his eyes opened, an unnatural purple gleam that flickered in the darkness. His gaze fell on the man, steady, unblinking.
And just for a moment, even the warrior who had slaughtered armies seemed to waver, dread creeping up his spine as he stared into the eyes of something that should never have come into this world.
Chain arrived to find Ash hesitating before the newly summoned creature – a gaunt figure with unnervingly intelligent violet eyes, currently gazing skyward.
"Why the delay, Ash?" Chain's voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence.
Ash flinched. "He... he hasn't attacked yet, Chain."
"Precisely," Chain snapped, drawing his blade as he advanced. "Our job is pre-emption. Neutralize the threat before it acts. You know this."
Ash averted his gaze, annoyance warring with duty.
"...So where've you been?" Ash asked calmly.
Chain didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"There was a girl," he said. "Killed a bunch of soldiers. In the forest, down there."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"I cut her head off." A pause. "She got back up."
Ash's expression didn't change. "Of course she did."
"Something came out of her," Chain continued. "Dark. Full of eyes."
Silence.
A beat.
Ash exhaled slowly. "Did you kill it?"
Chain glanced at him.
"Actually… no."
Ash frowned.
Chain went on, completely serious—
"He looked hurt. That's why he killed people. Seemed… sad."
Another pause.
"So I helped him get a better life."
Ash stared.
"He runs a fruit shop now."
Silence.
Two seconds.
Three.
Then—
Chain sighed.
"...Of course I killed it what kind of question is that?."
Ignoring the hunters, the demon tilted its head. "Humans," it inquired, its voice surprisingly resonant, "what are those myriad lights shimmering in the vast darkness above?"
"Stars," Chain replied curtly, closing the distance. "A blessing from God, wasted on your kind."
"Perhaps," the demon mused. "One understands why we are cursed to remain below."Chain lunged, sword aimed for the neck, but the demon reacted instantly, a blade of pure violet energy materializing to parry the strike. Sparks flew. "Remarkable speed," the demon noted, easily blocking Chain's follow-up attack. " Isn't your kind supposed to be weak?"