Day 723[1] in Jerrica's Labyrinth
Under a sky where two suns wrestled for dominion—one casting amber light, the other bleeding crimson rays like a warning—the war below unfolded in a hellish harmony. The battlefield pulsed with chaos. The valley echoed with hacking, slashing, and guttural screams. Earth Imps clashed with twisted, humanoid silhouettes—Catcha's Shadow Soldiers—a symphony of agony. Sinew was torn, limbs were cast into the air like tossed spears, and mana—tainted and raw bubbled into the open air from ruptured corpses. The very soil drank in demon blood and mana discharge like an addict. And though the Imps fought under the invisible leash of Luda's Ultra Skill, their minds remained painfully aware. Eyes wide and souls rattling, they were front row witnesses to a war not for a throne, but for something far more valuable: freedom.
Luda had been conducting this brutal opera like a maestro. Every beat of the battle moved at his command—his control over the rhythm so complete that even the chaos bowed to him. Catcha Freemen's attempts to bury him under waves of shadow and steel were met with precise counters. The Earth Imps, once slouched in their posture and slow to react, began to stand taller, silent cheers hidden behind their dulled expressions. They could feel it. Somehow, their chains were loosening. The dispatchment of the Shadow Marshals—creatures drenched in Yin Mana, cloaked in dread, and powerful enough to crush whole squads alone—had almost cracked that hope. But Luda, oh no, Luda flipped that despair into awe by cutting them down like grass.
And then he turnt up.
No more waiting. No more chess moves. Just violence.
Magitons burst. Spiritual pressure ripped outward, flinging Shadow Soldiers like rag dolls. Luda launched himself at Catcha. The air behind him twisted in his wake, screaming from the friction as his form blurred past light. His Spirit Weapon, [Meridian Goddess], came crashing down against Catcha's saber, the collision detonating with a thunderclap of kinetic force and mana compression. The earth didn't just crack—it groaned and split open, parting like dry bread behind Catcha's heels. Rocks exploded into the air, dirt was thrown into a funnel behind the impact, and those too close were turned into red mist.
They were demigods dancing on a dying stage.
For over a minute, the two titans exchanged a storm of blows. Luda's axe spun with calculated grace—his form ducking, weaving, and launching strikes with the elegance of a seasoned predator. Catcha's saber, laced in electric pulses, cracked through the air with desperate counters. Sparks rained around them. Some swings missed their targets by mere inches, the resulting force blowing away the unfortunate beings still fighting nearby. It wasn't normal swordplay anymore—it was a ballet of violence at speeds only divine sight could follow. For the Imps watching, it was like trying to track lightning bolts in a thunderstorm. Even under the divine buff of Luda's Ultra Skill, their enhanced perception strained to keep up.
A single misstep turned the tide.
Catcha lunged wide with a slashing arc, his blade slicing the air with an electric howl. But the blade caught only wind. Luda stepped inside the swing, drove his boot forward, and kicked the demon dead in the chin. The force of the strike sounded like a meteor had cracked open the air. Catcha's head snapped upward, and his body shot into the sky like a cursed rocket, leaving a brief trail of blackened smoke and corrupted mana.
But he wouldn't enjoy the altitude for long.
Luda was already in the air, several meters above him, his axe drawn back like a guillotine primed for judgment. The sun caught the gleam of Meridian Goddess—its twin blades flaring with spirals of cobalt and white-hot energy as he roared through the sky. With a thunderous shout that echoed across the battlefield, Luda slammed his weapon down. The blow connected with Catcha's chest like a divine hammer falling upon sin. The demon shot down faster than he rose, crashing into the earth like an asteroid strike.
The shockwave that followed sent tremors across the battlefield. Dirt exploded upward in a geyser. A crater the size of a fortress erupted beneath Catcha's broken body. Nearby combatants were hurled like ragdolls. The sheer pressure flattened hills, shattered boulders, and kicked up a dust storm that choked the sky.
And from the haze came sound. First, the crackling of settling stone. Then… silent cheers.
Not from Luda's army—no, his men were emotionless puppets of their former selves. The cheers came from the shadow Earth Imps.
From the enslaved dead. From the voiceless.
The controlled didn't speak, but their eyes, even dulled by influence, glowed faintly with something other than blind obedience.
Hope.
And all of it stemmed from the sight of one prince in the sky, axe raised, like he had just split hell itself in half.
The clash of steel and bone had been momentarily drowned out by a silence thick with anticipation, broken only by the frantic breath of war drums pounding in the chests of every soul caught in the struggle. The air stank of blood, ash, and scorched flesh—so thick it curled up the nostrils like a sour fog.
And just when Luda's brilliance looked to win this fight, Catcha Freemen—the King of the North—decided he wasn't done bleeding the field.
The demon rose from the crater his body carved into the dirt, cracking his neck with the sound of snapping trees. His charred vest hissed with steam as he stood tall beneath the ghost sun. Then, he raised both arms into the air, slow and deliberate, like a preacher at the pulpit ready to baptize a battlefield.
"I ain't gon' sit here an' let ya whoop me like some street corner rookie…" he muttered, voice deep, gravelly, and lined with the weight of countless wars. "Let me go on 'head an' remind ya why they call me the Sun Eater."
The earth beneath Catcha's boots trembled. A low hum rumbled through the ground, almost like a chant from the bones of the planet itself. Then, from the cracks and crevices, from the ink of the earth's underbelly, darkness surged.
Like a tidal wave formed of nightmares and oil-slick hate, the shadows exploded from beneath Catcha, forming twisting pillars and humanoid shapes that screeched as they took form. Their mouths stretched wider than natural, eyes glowing like candles inside hollow faces. In seconds, the horde of Shadow Soldiers had multiplied tenfold—what was once a sizable army had become a damned continent of darkness. The number spiked to 1.68 million, stretching as far as the eye could see.
The sheer difference was staggering.
Luda's remaining 152,000 Earth Imps looked more like a funeral party than an army in comparison. Even with their divine enhancements, their faces began to show the first signs of hesitation. You could taste the fear starting to creep in again, like a sour bile stuck in the throat.
Catcha grinned wide enough to crack a jawbone. His fangs glinted with black blood and pride. He clenched his fists and chanted:
"Freedom in the shadows, [Soul Food: Cell Therapy]!"
The words ignited the air—Magick, dark and thick like molasses, rippled from his core and exploded outward. The shadows beneath him began to swirl, dance, and celebrate. They rose high into the sky like a ballet of ink and agony, only to descend as a curtain across the battlefield. The shade pool, once confined to the radius beneath him, swelled, spreading like black wildfire across an entire kilometer, swallowing the land whole.
Then came the gold.
Each Shadow Soldier's frame lit up with an ethereal glow—golden brushfire, licking off their bodies with a burning brilliance. This wasn't just cosmetic flair. Their speed surged. Strength doubled. Their mana thickened like lava. The golden aura was a steroid in spell form, and Luda's men felt the difference immediately.
Earth Imps began to drop fast. In clusters of hundreds. The divine edge they'd once held? Snatched away like a bone from a starving dog.
Catcha stood tall, bathed in his own dark glory, arms crossed, eyes glowing. "Heh… now that's what I call supper."
Luda's body still glowed faintly, simmering with divine mana, but the overwhelming weight of the enemy's surge pulled a frown onto his usually unreadable face. He scanned the landscape, watched his Imps die by the second, heard their screams, felt the tremors as wave after wave of shadows slammed into his dwindling force.
But then… his smirk returned.
"Funny thing 'bout a shadow army..." he said, loud enough for his voice to echo through the howling field of magic and death. "All it takes is one real light to wipe it out."
Catcha squinted. "What?"
Luda spun his axe in his hand—a blur of divine steel—and raised it high. "Divine Earth Mana Arts: Landon's Retribution!"
The name alone carried weight. The moment the weapon struck the ground, the entire battlefield shuddered.
An eruption of mana followed—a divine ignition that surged down into the soil like liquid lightning. The ground lit up in branching patterns of golden green, mana streaking through Catcha's own shadow pool like a match to oil. It was like watching a sun being born from below.
The light that followed was blinding. A wall of divine energy exploded outward from Luda's axe, traveling through Catcha's magickal network with surgical precision. Within seconds, spikes of jagged earth, burning with divine enchantment, exploded upward from within the shadow pool.
Each spike skewered dozens of Shadow Soldiers at once.
Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands impaled in the blink of an eye.
Shadow bodies twisted and combusted, the golden flames locking them in place. The screeches were deafening. The field of darkness became a field of fire. The once-massive tide of Catcha's army had been shattered like glass hit with a hammer.
The light from the attack was so intense, Catcha had to shield his face, wincing as if it was the first time he'd truly been touched by radiance.
For a creature called the "Sun Eater," he looked real uncomfortable bathed in that glow.
Luda stood in the epicenter, steam rising from his shoulders, eyes cold and clear. A god among mortals, unmoved by the carnage.
He wasn't going to stop at countering the shadow army; he was going to humiliate it.
Still… the numbers game hadn't changed that much. Luda now had fewer than 100,000 troops. He was running out of time, and Catcha knew it.
The demon's grin had faded—but not for long. Because even a wounded beast can bite. And the Cardinal King had plenty of fangs left.
Catcha had seen many things in his time—monsters, angels, warlords, and Aeons masquerading as men. But the sight of Luda channeling Divinity Mana made his knees tremble. That light… it was alive. It breathed. It judged. Shining down from the prince's palms like a second sun, that radiant energy coiled into sacred glyphs, each one humming with judgment from realms higher than Paradiso. Catcha's eyes widened, and for just a moment, the Cardinal King of the North—the Sun Eater himself—began to shake.
The land around Luda shimmered under the weight of holy fire, bathing the battlefield in celestial warmth that clashed violently against the bone-deep chill left by Infernia's corruption. Catcha clenched his fists and forced himself to stop quivering. He raised his chin and let out a forced chuckle.
"Maybe I oughta thank ya for not destroyin' mah Shadows this time," he said, voice dipping into his drawl, the kind that sounded like whiskey soaked in blood.
Luda didn't smile or nod—he simply lifted his weapon, still humming with that divine glow, and held it behind him in silence.
"Lockin' the shades in holy fire keeps ya from callin' 'em back," Luda stated plainly.
"Boy…" Catcha growled, stepping forward, "Do you understand the value of a soul in Infernia? It's the most precious currency in these Hell Realms. Do you know what that means?"
Luda didn't answer. He just watched. The silence was louder than any reply.
"It means these chattel, you see, they're my treasures. My riches. My wealth. And you? You robbin' one of Infernia's richest Terracrypts."
The prince broke his silence with one simple truth.
"The dead have no use for wealth."
"Which is exactly why I'm still drawin' breath, boy."
Luda's eyes narrowed. He thrust his palm forward.
"Let's fix that. Divine Fire Mana Arts: Raziya's Passion!"
The spell ignited in his hand with a thunderous BOOM, fire coalescing into a triangular mold before launching from his palm like a cannon of sacred vengeance. The head of the spell twisted into the shape of a dragon—a wyrm of light and flame, eyes glowing with judgment. Its body spiraled through the air, trailing embers that fell like glistening stars.
Catcha cursed under his breath and clapped his hands together. Three walls of hardened rock exploded upward between him and the draconic blast—each one packed with sediment, minerals, and desperation. But Luda's holy fire didn't stop. It didn't slow.
Like fire through parchment, the divine dragon pierced all three layers effortlessly and smashed against Catcha's chest and face. His body flung backwards like a ragdoll, tumbling through trees, rock, and corpses, crashing into a small cliffside. His walls melted behind him, reduced to puddles of steaming molten slag.
Gasping for air, Catcha's mouth dripped blood. But he grinned, even as he coughed.
"Huff… huff… Bathe me in the blackness—[Soul Food: Cell Therapy!]"
Darkness rushed to him like a long-lost lover. From the shadows beneath the broken earth, ebony tendrils erupted upward and wrapped around his body. Devil Mana blazed from his Soul Core, thick as tar, cold as hellfire. The land screamed. Mountains shook. Even the wind dared not move.
And then, he transformed.
"CONSUME… THE… LIGHT!"
The darkness swallowed him whole, and what stepped out of the abyss was no longer Catcha, King of the North. No. This was something older. Stronger. Hungrier. His Umbra Form devoured the field with pressure, swathed in roaring magick. Black winds howled around him like banshees mourning the sun. A hurricane of shadow.
Luda stood firm, his mind calculating. He watched the spreading mana, not only around Catcha, but beneath him.
"Shit, he's not about to do what I think, is he?" Luda thought grimly.
Then came the rip. A seismic tear across the battlefield as the very ground split wide open. A thousand bottomless pits opened their jaws, swallowing dozens of Earth Imps in an instant. Their shrieks vanished into the dark.
Luda spotted Tobias just before the ground cracked under him. In a blur, the prince snatched him by the neck and leapt far beyond the zone of collapse.
"Return them all to the shadows—[Soul Food: Dirty South!]"
The sky... vanished.
A blanket of pitch black consumed both suns. All light snuffed out. The entire planet fell under Catcha's Domain Art—a sprawling web of pure Nihility, devil-born and hateful. The shadows drowned the realm in silence. Even the breeze felt afraid.
Tobias whimpered in Luda's grip.
"Wh-where are we, sir? Did we—we die?"
"Silence, Imp."
With a flick of his finger, Luda conjured [Divine Water Mana Arts: Amaya's Sorrow]. A spiral of holy water flowed from his fingertip and wrapped around Tobias, forming a radiant bubble. Sprinkles of sacred liquid washed over the Imp's torn body, healing cuts and burns in seconds.
"Huh? My cuts are gone?"
"Nigga, I said silence."
"CONSUME THE LIGHT."
The phrase echoed, again and again, as Catcha advanced. Tentacles of dark mana stretched out from behind him like spider limbs, searching for Luda. The air thickened. Magitons shimmered, visible now as blue-black particles slamming into each other under the Domain's pressure. No light could escape. No light could live.
Inside Luda's chest, that old greed flickered to life.
"Pathetic king thinks he can destroy your chances for victory," whispered the voice of [Midnoon Star: Satanael]. "Take his enhancement power instead and destroy his will."
Luda's eyes burned.
"Great minds think alike."
The tentacles whipped toward him, but Luda danced.
"Divine Wind Mana Arts: Nylah's Grace."
With wind whispering only to him, Luda weaved between strikes like a phantom. Green and silver sparks popped around him as he dodged with breathtaking speed. Each limb slammed the earth where he once stood, creating craters deep as canyons.
Catcha, annoyed, focused all his tendrils into one massive umbra limb and brought it down like a divine hammer.
Too late.
Luda appeared behind him, one hand pressed to his back.
"[Satan's Greed]."
A vortex of dark energy spiraled into his palm as he absorbed Catcha's Umbra transformation. The prince's mind flooded with screams. Millions of souls, each one lost, crying, grasping for mercy that never came. His thoughts twisted. His sanity frayed.
Devil Mana was eating him alive from the inside.
The cost of greed.
Yet, his Soul Core reacted.
[Overcompensation] triggered.
Catcha stumbled forward as the power was torn from him. His Umbra Form ripped away, leaving him gasping and grounded.
But instead of victory, he laughed.
"Mighty stupid of you, Celestial," he panted. "The hubris in your strength made you think you could handle real power... only for it to end up as your tomb."
Then a new thought struck him.
"So the mortal realms have produced such warriors, huh… Guess that victory over the Principality wasn't a fluke after all. Those Archons gotta be stopped before their little game reaches checkmate."
Suddenly, Luda moved.
Magickal static popped from his body. An aura—unstable, radiant, and furious—expanded from him in wild pulses. Catcha's breath hitched. That Umbra silhouette wasn't crumbling. It was changing.
Then came the sound. A chuckle. Distorted. Wrong. Powerful.
The earth shook. Luda vibrated. The very reality around him cracked.
And then…
A golden light burst from his Soul Core. Brilliant. Blinding. Cracks formed in the sky-dark of the Domain, and in a blinding explosion of mana, Catcha's Domain Art shattered apart. The suns returned. The shadows screamed.
Luda laughed—loud, unhinged, sinisterly.
A golden aura erupted around him, flaring brighter than the two suns combined. He wasn't consumed.
He became the light.
A walking star.
And the Sun Eater couldn't lay a single tooth on him.
The Cardinal King, that cold-blooded Terracrpyt demon wrapped in shadows and deceit, had never known fear. Not the kind that made your soul scream and your breath seize up in your lungs like ice. But when Luda's mana erupted across the battlefield like a tidal wave of starlight, Catcha didn't just stumble—he was knocked clean off his feet.
That was power. That was true Divinity.
The air turned thick, buzzing like it was charged with a billion volts, and the gravity twisted under the weight of Luda's presence. The mana signature pouring from him wasn't chaotic—it was perfectly orchestrated, a symphony of cosmic energy roaring in golden crescendo. His dreadlocks, usually neat and tamed, floated skyward like radiant vines reaching for the heavens, each one humming with power. The golden hue to his hair wasn't a trick of the light—it was the light. It streamed from him like molten noon, catching the twin suns' glow and making him seem like a third celestial body had touched down onto the world.
His cloak—once an abyss of darkness—had been converted into a shimmering stream of living mana, fusing directly into his Vessel Sub-Skill, [Journey of Ra]. That skill was no longer just a buff technique. It became a full transformation.
Inside the divine bubble that kept him from being scorched alive, Tobias could only stare, eyes glassy and wide with awe. His hands trembled against the shimmering shield, his heart pounding as he whispered like a prayer.
"Commander!!"
Luda didn't respond to the Imp's call. His eyes, bright with that same celestial flame, were locked on Catcha. He extended both palms outward, and between them spun a sphere—not like any normal spell. This wasn't blue or white like neutral magick. It was a torid hunter green, a rare and ancient tone, hollow in form but pulsing with layers upon layers of tightly condensed mana, rotating like a captured storm. The edges vibrated, making the air hum with dread. Even time seemed to slow down.
Catcha, still lying in the crater he'd formed, scrambled back on all fours, sweat breaking down his forehead and sizzling on the ground below.
"How is that possible?! What are you?!"
Luda's voice was calm—too calm. No anger, no pride. Just truth.
"A light that your pitiful darkness could never prevent from shining."
The Sun Eater's jaw clenched, and his shadows rose defensively.
"But since you're known as the all-powerful Sun Eater..." Luda vanished—no flash, no warning.
In the very next breath, he stood nose-to-nose with Catcha. Then the world shattered.
The sphere clamped around Catcha like a divine cage, slicing off the shadows trying to escape. The structure of it was a super seal—Divinity Mana strengthened it—the kind of energy that burns flesh and the core inside your soul. Catcha screamed, thrashing against the prison of emerald light, smoke rising from his body as his own mana collapsed inward.
Luda looked him dead in the eyes, one brow lifted like he was about to deliver a joke, not a judgment.
"Let me give you a sun to snack on."
Catcha howled, voice warbling through the vibrational hum of the sphere.
"Waaiiiiitt—"
But it was too late.
Luda turned without a word, held the sphere overhead, then hurled it with the effortless grace of a deity. It arced through the sky like a meteor from heaven, straight for the leftmost sun in the Infernian sky. That was the sun where the Cardinal King was sent pleading, attempting to control the flow of cosmic fate with prayer and desperation.
Five seconds.
That's all it took.
A bloom of light silently cracked the world, as the sun combusted in a silent, horrifying supernova. The brightness was too much to look at directly—it pierced through the bones of reality itself, illuminating the land and souls.
Then came the sound.
A delayed roar—no, a wail—of the atmosphere itself being torn apart. The pressure from the sun's death ripped through the sky, sending solar winds crashing into the upper layers of the planet's air. The clouds didn't scatter. They evaporated. The ground rippled, cracked, and then broke apart like a dried-out clay bowl dropped from the heavens.
Tobias would've been reduced to vapor if not for the bubble. The shield fizzled and screamed in protest, yet somehow held. Still, he cried out, eyes wide in disbelief and awe, watching as chunks of earth the size of fortresses floated upward into space, pulled by the shifting gravity.
But Luda didn't move.
He stood amidst the destruction like he was born from it. Around him, the land had become a graveyard of hope and fire. Craters stretched for kilometers, trees burned down to stumps, and rivers boiled dry. The battlefield, once echoing with cries for freedom, was now deafening in its silence.
Only one figure remained besides Luda—Tobias, the last witness.
Luda turned, his golden aura still churning like liquid sun, but there was a different glow in his eyes. Discovery.
In absorbing Catcha's power and using [Journey of Ra], something had transferred. A passive memory, a connection. He could feel it in his bones—the ability to summon Catcha's dreaded Shadow Warriors. But now, it felt different. Filtered. Purified.
He raised one hand, still radiating divine heat, and snapped his fingers.
A pool of black shadow appeared at his feet. But instead of its usual void-like nature, it shimmered with gold—like tar laced with sunlight. It expanded outward like spilled paint, then began to bubble and morph.
From it rose spirits—millions of them. 100 thousand to be exact. Each one a Shade Soldier, reborn in divine likeness. No longer hunched or feral, they stood with dignity, their edges outlined in radiant light, like obsidian statues trimmed in gold leaf.
And then, in unison, they knelt.
Luda stepped forward, the weight of his new army humming through his veins. His MP was low—he felt that much—but the potential… oh, the potential.
"They might not all be alive, but they are standing," he thought. "That counts, right?"
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout—one filled with joy, disbelief, and a touch of madness.
"We won!!"
Tobias collapsed onto his knees, arms stretched wide toward the broken sky. The stars twinkled through what was now a shattered atmosphere, painting the day in the look of eternal evening.
It felt like night, but the remaining sun still hovered above.
The barrier between the planet and Infernia's space had been breached. Light and darkness mingled freely now.
And Luda… stood in the middle of it all. Alone. Victorious.
The aftermath of chaos was brief but heavy. The tension in the air seemed to hang like the last trembling note of a battle hymn. Luda stood amidst the fading glow of his Trial of the Bad, and for the first time in what felt like hours, the Prime Realm System chimed in, its tone flat and unimpressed—yet oddly timely.
«Trial of the Bad is now complete. You have earned your passage.»
The voice had no urgency, no celebratory tone. Just matter-of-fact, as if Luda had completed a shopping list rather than faced eldritch nightmares.
Then, with the abruptness of a lamp being unplugged, the golden glow of his aura was sucked away, replaced by a stunning teal light that washed over him like a divine command. The very space around him seemed to twist and unravel, like the threads of reality were being pulled by unseen hands. A soft pop, like compressed air releasing, echoed in his ears as the spatial fabric where he stood collapsed in on itself, and Luda vanished.
When the atmosphere returned, everything felt... different.
The air was lighter, cleaner. A faint saltiness tickled his nose, carried by a calm wind that made the tall grass sway like dancers bowing to his return. The sky above was a soft blue, almost too perfect, and now only a single yellow-white sun hovered lazily over the horizon. No sign of the previous dual suns remained.
Luda's emerald-green hair fluttered in the breeze as he scanned the surroundings. His once-empowered form had dimmed—[Journey of Ra] no longer flared active within him—but the magic in the air still pulsed with presence. He squinted up at the lone sun.
"Someone repaired the planet? But didn't return the other sun...?" he murmured, squinting. "Wait... where did the Imp go?"
«Due to completion of the trial, [DATA RESTRICTED] will now grant the Sonata Core and bible holder the anima summon for skill [Spirit Weapon: Meridian Goddess]. Bonus skill: [Journey of Ra: Eye of Ra] will be rewarded for completing the secret objective, What's yours is mine.»
Luda raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a half-smirk. "A hidden objective?" He chuckled dryly. "The Outer Gods have a wicked sense of humor."
A low hum began to vibrate through the ground. Then, with haunting familiarity, a summoning circle burst to life before him. It was the same one he'd seen etched years ago—its runes glowing with radiant purpose. Without conscious thought, his vessel, [Midnoon Star: Satanael], surged through his veins, hijacking his control for just a moment to funnel every drop of spare mana into the spell.
Luda's body trembled—not from fear, but awe—as his awareness returned. He stared as the magick circle began to spin, the rune symbols pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. Then came the smell.
It was sweet. Sinfully so. Like honey dripping from wild orchid petals mixed with a whisper of incense and passionfruit. The scent coiled around his senses, dragging his gaze to the forming shape within the circle.
Spiritons and Astra Mana collided and danced like stardust in love. Teal and golden light twirled in midair, weaving themselves into a silhouette—a woman's silhouette, more vivid and perfect than any dream he'd ever dared to have.
Her skin shimmered with golden-toned mana, glowing like caramel under candlelight. From her navel to her lips, her front bore a peanut-butter tone that added depth to her beauty, layered like divine brushstrokes across a masterpiece. Her body curved like a song sung in moonlight—sensual, dangerous, and hauntingly real.
Black hair with cherry-red tips curled around her neck in a bob-style cut, drawing attention to her radiant face and piercing pink eyes. They met Luda's—and in that instant, he felt something unexplainable. Connection. Destiny. Lust. All of it.
Her lion-like tail, tipped in glowing magick, wagged behind her like a wick soaked in desire. The mana at its tip crackled like static, radiating heat that bent the air itself.
"To think that Omnia would be correct about the concept of desire," she whispered, lips parting just slightly as if the words tickled her tongue. "My name is Roxy, the Meridian Goddess, and from this day forward, I will forever be by your side."
Luda's breath hitched. She moved with a predator's grace, each step out of the circle causing the surrounding magitons to shimmer and distort in waves of heat. As she knelt before him, her mana signature poured out—heavy, intoxicating, deliciously dangerous.
His thoughts raced.
"Incredible power... and she's beautiful. Is she my Guardian Armament's spirit? Then... I have to defeat her, right? Make her submit?"
But he didn't get the chance to test his theory.
Without hesitation, Roxy rose to her feet in a fluid motion and closed the space between them in a blink. She tugged down his mask, her lips crashing into his a heartbeat later.
Their kiss was molten.
Not soft. Not polite. It was an explosion of mana, a baptism by fire—and he was all in. He felt her energy flooding into him with each passing second, a current of raw power and seduction. Her tongue held mana, her body pulsed like a magickal engine, and yet... his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, not out of duty—but instinct.
He didn't want to let go.
«Power distribution complete. The contract is placed at 75% to 25%.
The [Soul Binding] shall now proceed. New ability skill [Guardian Armament] learned.
A new guardian armament [Meridian Goddess: Roxy] has been installed.
A new ultra skill called [Veni, Vidi, Vici] has been installed...»
The Prime Realm System's announcements poured like code flooding a terminal into his mind. He barely heard them, his mind reeling from the impact of the bond forming deep in his soul.
«...Installing personal skills [Immortal Connection], [Skill Tree Link], [Master's Command], and [Master's Gifts].
Raising the battle power on Sonata Soul Uno, Luda Braye, by 65%.
The [Soul Binding] is complete.»
Luda staggered a bit, eyes widening as his [The Fated Hero] skill twisted within him. He felt it altering, evolving—no, corrupting. A new name, one he hated even before hearing it: [Mark of the Beast].
A cold memory crept into his spine. His mother's voice echoed in his mind, whispering one of her old prophecies:
"When devils sleep, and the gods grow weak, the world will burn as the angels return. As a new star rises to command the endless skies, the Chosen's blade will leave the Heavens divided. When Gaia teeters on the brink of destruction, the eyes of the Supreme will guide us to peace. The Watchers of Heaven will cry out in despair, as The One slays The Mark of the Beast."
Luda murmured to himself, "Shit... This can't be good. I need to speak with my mother about this."
As if waiting for its cue, the Prime Realm System returned one last time. «You've danced with the dark earth and lived to tell the tale. Shall I open the door to your freedom?»
He glanced at Roxy, still close, still radiant. Her smile was subtle, but he felt the affection already blooming in her gaze. And for once, he didn't feel alone in his burden.
He turned toward the portal—an elegant swirl of teal and white mist curling open before him—and with a slow exhale, pulled his mask back up. It slid into place like the final stroke of a painting.
Beneath it, he smiled.
Prince Luda Braye had returned from hell—changed, bound, stronger than ever.
And now?
Now he was ready to be king.
[End of Chapter]
[1] Year Five.