"What just happened?" Noir muttered softly, his voice barely a whisper as he looked around the strange place. The air was cold, the darkness endless, and the ground beneath him felt dead—like it hadn’t known life for ages.

He turned his head quickly from side to side, trying to understand where he was. Then his eyes stopped. Ahead of him, on a long flat stone that burned with purple flames, someone was lying down.

The figure slowly sat up, facing him with calm, watchful eyes.

Noir narrowed his gaze and began walking forward, his footsteps echoing in the strange silence. As he got closer, the thick darkness around them slowly faded.

His eyes widened slightly.

It was Scarlett.

But not the Scarlett he was fighting.

This one was… different. Her presence felt heavier, deeper, almost divine yet demonic. There was no blindfold covering her face. Both of her eyes glowed a deep, mysterious purple and sclera was pitch black. Two long purple horns curved from her head, each nearly sixty centimeters long. She looked powerful—completely in control.

"Is this some kind of illusion?" Noir asked, still calm, not a trace of fear showing on his face.

The horned Scarlett looked at him and sighed.

"Aren’t you a bit too strong to be just a tutorial boss? Come on, go easy. Why are you giving my body such a hard time?"

Her tone was playful, even teasing.

But the moment she spoke, Noir’s body tensed up.

Every instinct screamed danger. His demon senses fired like sirens, warning him that this being in front of him was not someone he could easily face. Still, he kept a straight face and smirked.

"You’re not Scarlett, are you?" he asked.

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Well, we’re the same person… kind of. But sure, think of me however you want. Not really the point right now." She shook her head and stared directly at Noir. "Let’s focus on what matters."

She tilted her head slightly, voice calm.

"So… would you mind dying by Scarlett’s hands? Or just pretend and sneak away? You know—make her believe you’re dead?"

Noir scoffed and shook his head.

"I would never run away."

The horned girl gave a short laugh, then asked something else.

"Alright then. Do you have any idea how to tell her… that what she’s doing isn’t her own choice? That meeting you, this whole thing—it wasn’t fate. It was all a setup. Made by someone else."

Noir paused. For the first time, he looked unsure.

But then…

"Pftt…" he chuckled, and then laughed lightly.

"Of course it wasn’t her choice. I was the one who manipulated her—"

Before he could finish, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Shut up!" the girl shouted.

Her eyes snapped open wide, glowing with rage. The space around her cracked slightly, like glass under pressure. Her voice sent chills through the dark air.

"I wasn’t talking about insects," she hissed. "Do you have any idea or not?"

Noir stopped speaking.

The smile vanished from his face.

Noir narrowed his eyes and said slowly, “What if I just tell her everything directly?”

The girl with the purple horns shook her head. “No. That won’t work. You can’t use any kind of signal—no gestures, no memory transfer, no communication of any kind. Not even a look.”

Noir frowned. “Then I don’t think there’s any other way.”

The horned girl sighed, looking disappointed. “Then you’re of no use to me.”

She raised her index finger and pointed it at Noir like a gun.

“Let’s change the layers of the narrative,” she said calmly. “From this moment, you no longer have any unique skills, no knowledge of advanced magic… and no memory of what happened here.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the air around them shattered like glass. Reality shook violently. The space itself twisted and spun like jelly being stirred too fast.

The whole world glitched—changing between 2D, 3D, and 4D in a strange loop.

In the next second, Noir was thrown out of that strange, dead place.

-----------

A few minutes ago…

“Fire Phoenix!” Aoto shouted, thrusting out his palm.

A giant bird made of flames shot forward, wings stretched wide. It flew straight at Seraphina and exploded on impact. The blast sent fire, dust, and broken tiles flying in every direction.

Aoto stood tall and laughed, filled with satisfaction. “That’s for earlier! Feels good!”

Suddenly, something shiny cut through the smoke—a long silver spear. It came at him like lightning, faster than anything he could block.

In one second, it should’ve pierced through his chest.

“AOTO!” Chiyoko shouted, his eyes wide in shock.

From the other side of the smoke, Seraphina stepped forward, her sword in one hand. “Too bad, hero. Did you really think I only use swords?” she said with a wide grin.

But when the smoke cleared… Aoto was still standing. Completely unharmed. And he was holding the spear tightly in one hand.

Her smile dropped.

Her eyes locked on Aoto—and widened.

He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t hurt. Not even a scratch.

“H-how?” she whispered, completely stunned.

Aoto smiled and pointed at himself with his thumb. “It’s my unique skill—Reality Warping. I just imagined that I didn’t get hit. So, I didn’t. Simple as that.”

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. “Tch… I should’ve read your memories first. That’s one dangerous skill…”

But her mind was already racing.

“I’m sure that kind of power uses a lot of mana,” she said with a grin, ready to push forward. “Let’s see how long you can keep it up!”

She dashed toward Aoto with blinding speed.

But suddenly—her foot froze.

Her leg stopped moving mid-step, and she fell forward, slamming her head into the floor with a loud thud.

“What the—?” she muttered, picking herself up, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She tried again to charge, but this time both her hands and legs locked in place.

Even her neck wouldn’t move.

“What’s going on?” she whispered in fear.

Then Chiyoko stepped forward, calm and confident.

“You’re under the effect of a unique skill—Anchor,” he said. “Right now, you’re turning into my anchor.”

Both Aoto and Seraphina stared at him, completely stunned.

Chiyoko smiled and raised one hand.

“My unique skill is ‘'Imitation.’ I can imitate other people’s skills, magic, techniques… even martial arts by seeing them once”

Aoto’s jaw dropped open.

“Wait… that’s way too overpowered! Don’t tell me you’re actually the main character?!” he blurted out.

“Hehehe… of course I am,” Chiyoko said proudly, puffing up his chest. “But my skill has a big weakness. I can only imitate one unique skill at a time… though that doesn’t count for techniques or magic!”

He turned toward Seraphina with a serious look.

“I’ll finish her. I’m the hero, after all!”

He stepped forward with confidence, raising his hand.

Aoto just stood back, letting him go.

“Well… I guess he did most of the work. Sigh… my luck has been really bad these last few days,” he muttered and decided not to interfere.

But just as Chiyoko was about to land the final blow—

A strange wave passed through the air.

It wasn’t wind. It wasn’t visible either.

It was just… a feeling. Cold. Empty. Heavy. Like something deeper than magic had just touched the world.

Seraphina's eyes suddenly lost their light, and her body dropped to the ground.

She was dead.

Chiyoko froze.

“What happened?” he said, running to her body and shaking her shoulder, but she didn’t move.

Aoto rushed over as well.

“What kind of unique skill did you use?! She just dropped dead!”

“I… I just imitated the demon king’s unique skill or something?” Chiyoko said with a confused face. He really didn’t know what had happened.

Aoto stopped in his tracks.

“Wait… Demon king’s unique skill? But he… doesn’t have one. Right?”

----------

At the same time, deep inside Noir’s castle…

Scarlett stood frozen, unable to move. Her limbs were locked like chains were wrapped around her entire body. Noir stood beside her, smiling calmly, his presence heavy and proud.

He was just about to devour her mind.

But suddenly, the same strange wave passed through the room.

A weird chill brushed her skin—not painful, just... unnatural.

And in that moment, Scarlett broke free.

Her body moved again.

Without a second thought, she jumped back, putting distance between herself and Noir.

“You! What kind of unique skill did you use to stop me from moving?!” she asked, still shocked.

It was the first time in her life that someone had managed to lock her body like that. At her level, such things shouldn’t even be possible. No wonder he was called a Demon King.

But Noir tilted his head, confused.

“Unique skill?” he repeated. “I don’t have one. Maybe… you’re just too weak to move in my presence.”

---------

A few minutes earlier…

On the borders of Darwitz, a brutal battle between humans and demons was underway.

Blood soaked the ground. The screams of soldiers and the roar of monsters echoed across the land. The fight had only started a few hours ago, but already the battlefield was painted red.

But the one who was gaining the most from the chaos—was the Demon King himself.

The longer the battle went on, the more humans started turning into his “Anchors.” All he needed was to stretch the fight for a few more days, and every soldier would slowly become… another version of him.

Everything was going according to plan.

Until—

A glowing portal suddenly opened right in the middle of the battlefield.

Everyone turned.

Two figures stepped out.

The first was a woman with silver hair and silver eyes. Her skin was pale like snow, her beauty almost ghostly. She wore a white nun’s robe that fit her body perfectly, showing her curves without shame.

She was Vesilisa—Captain of the Holy Knights.

Behind her walked a tall man with black hair and calm brown eyes. He wore glasses and a long coat over a neat shirt and pants. A sword hung at his side, its hilt untouched. His face was serious. Focused.

This was Warren Shepherd—Vice Captain of the Holy Knights.

Only the two of them had arrived.

For a moment, the battlefield froze.

Everyone—demons and humans—stared in silence.

Then, Vesilisa raised her hand slowly.

With two fingers, she gently pinched the air and whispered:

“Time Stop.”

Whoooosh.

A breath of icy air rolled over the battlefield, and everything froze. Blades hung in mid‑swing, arrows stopped mid‑flight, and voices broke off in half‑formed shouts. Time itself had stopped. Only Vesilisa and Warren could still move.

Warren let his eyes sweep over the scene—thousands of soldiers and monsters locked in place like toy figures.

“No matter how often I see this, it still amazes me,” he said, his face calm but his voice tinged with quiet wonder.

Vesilisa shot him a cool glance.

“Less staring, more working. Holding time still burns mana.”

Warren did not hurry. “Why bother saving them at all? If Darwitz lose more men, our plans will run smoother. Everything is already in place. No need to pretend we’re the good side.”

Vesilisa shook her head without looking back.

“A wasteland is no prize. Let them sow, then we harvest.” She pointed toward the frozen ranks of demons. “Take out two‑thirds. The rest can keep these soldiers busy.”

Warren knelt, rested one hand on the ground, and wrapped his fingers around his sword hilt. He drew a slow breath.

“Territory Cut.”

His blade whispered from its sheath—a single, graceful arc. Heads toppled as though sliced by invisible lines. In the next blink, two‑thirds of the demon host crumpled, already dead before their bodies could resume motion.

Vesilisa nodded once.

“Enough. Let’s leave.”

Warren slid the sword home, opened a glowing portal, and the two stepped through.

Time snapped back.

Blood burst from severed necks in red fountains. Bodies fell like rain‑beaten stalks of wheat. The battlefield erupted in screams—shock, panic, and confusion from every side.

“What—what happened?” a young human soldier gasped, stumbling backward.

“I saw two people appear, then… nothing,” another whispered, clutching his spear.

Yet there was no time to wonder. One‑third of the demon army still stood, snarling and ready but also confused that why and when so many of them died?

The human commander raised his sword.

“This is our chance! Push them back! Wipe them out!”

“Charge! Charge! Charge!” the ranks roared, surging forward.

But before steel met flesh again, a strange wave washed across the field. It was not wind or sound—just a chill that settled in every heart.

Every remaining demon stiffened. One after another, they collapsed, eyes dimming before they hit the ground. A handful of nearby human soldiers dropped as well.

Silence followed. No clash, no cry—only the moan of distant wind over the dead.

The commander lowered his blade, baffled. “They’re… gone?”

No one could explain the sudden end. They only knew the battle was over and the humans had won.

But how could they know the real reason?

The horned figure who looked like Scarlett had altered the very narrative that bound the world. By stripping Noir of his unique skill “Anchor,” every living being he had fully turned into an Anchor—Seraphina, the demon soldiers, and even a few humans—lost the life and simply fell dead. Those only partly under his control blinked free of the influence, never realizing how close they had come to becoming pieces of the demon king himself.