Red Beauty

The soldiers and Dae were already dressed.

They had gathered at the gate outside the villa, deep in discussion.

Each wore a dark suit and had combed back their hair with cream.

That's when the villa's door opened—

and Rayshel stepped out.

Thanks to the slit in her long vermillion dress, her strong, smooth leg was visible.

Red pearls hung around her neck, and her braided hair was adorned with a white flower.

To the soldiers, she had only ever been a war maniac on the battlefield.

This was something new.

And frankly—a good sight.

Some struggled to close their mouths, their jaws aching from shock.

The only one whose face revealed nothing was Dae.

Still, even he couldn't take his eyes off Rayshel as she approached.

Each step was elegant. Commanding.

Her swaying hips were a graceful rhythm.

Her red lips moved as she reached him.

"How do you find me?"

Dae's nose—and brain—were already overwhelmed by her strawberry perfume.

"Hey, Dae? And?"

"You look stunning, Rayshel."

"Hihihihi, thank you! You also look handsome. A good change, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah. But we won't stay long."

"Don't ruin the mood. Relax."

She swung her arm around his and pulled him closer, dragging him along as she spotted the carriage.

"Woah! Let's go!"

She ran forward, Dae still in her grip. He sighed—

but a smile crept across his face.

The man driving the carriage opened the door for them.

Just then, a line of other carriages arrived for the rest of the soldiers.

Into Dae's carriage stepped Pandora, who had chosen a similar style to Rayshel's—

but everything on her was midnight blue.

As Pandora entered, Rayshel's eyes remained locked on Dae.

Specifically, his eyes.

Dae, of course, was looking in the opposite direction—

which drew a small, knowing smile from Rayshel.

Pandora sat down, and the carriage took off.

Somewhere in Dafton City

Everyone had gathered.

Sarah, Emilia, and Rick were seated at a table alongside Michael and his people.

No one stood out—except Michael.

The group included older men and women, children, and a few soldiers.

"Will this even be enough?" Sarah asked aloud.

Before Michael could answer, an old man spoke up first:

"I know what you're thinking.

We don't have many fighters—and you're right.

But with my weapons, everyone here becomes one."

They brought in weapons that gave off faint gold and violet glows.

"These weapons were forged using the soul of a demon or angel.

But don't confuse them with what others have.

They follow similar rules—

but the souls used here are extremely small. Their egos are not present in the weapon."

"What would've happened if their ego was present?" Rick asked.

"Then it's possible the ego might take over.

You see, when a ghoul is born, part of the demon's energy enters the human body.

But only energy—not the soul or body.

What some people have done, though, is use energy from demons after they've already possessed someone.

In those cases, their soul crosses over—

and that's dangerous."

"I see," Sarah said.

"But I assume this way, the wielder is safe—though the weapon is weaker?"

"You're right," Michael added.

Beside him stood a short man with black hair and golden eyes—

clearly a possessed one.

"Luckily, we have our smith. He was possessed, yes.

His ability is to create and enhance weapons.

He made his own gear and fused it with angelic weapons—

ones I stole from the King himself.

Then he enhanced them.

With these weapons, even a normal human can take on an angel.

Believe me."

"Is there a catch?" Emilia asked.

"These weapons are powerful. There must be a price."

"A smart woman," Michael grinned.

"Surprisingly, no. There's no curse. No cost.

However, the wielder must be mentally strong.

Not physically—mentally.

Most of the people here passed that test.

That's why we're even here—

because we were mentally stronger than those still living in Paradise.

We saw the lie.

And we ran—knowing life out here would be harder.

There's only one problem:

There can only be 100 of these weapons in existence at once.

I don't know how big the enemy army is—

but this fight won't be easy.

Many will die.

During the battle, I'll confront the King.

Our priority is saving people—

and showing them the truth behind Paradise.

Then a small group will head to America—

and destroy the altar.

Any questions?...

Then let's move. President, take your people.

You'll need your weapons."

In Paradise

The carriage stopped in front of a colossal villa—

even grander than Pandora's.

Guests were dressed in the most extravagant clothes.

Every outfit looked like it cost a fortune.

Dae was the first to step out.

Then he heard Rayshel behind him.

"Didn't you forget something, mister?"

Dae turned and offered her his hand, helping her down.

Rayshel puffed out her cheeks.

"One minus point!"

"Excuse me? What?"

"One minus point, I said. You're supposed to be a gentleman! Hm!"

Dae offered his arm again.

Rayshel immediately clutched onto it, beaming.

The couple approached the villa, where a man stopped them.

"And you are?"

"They're with me," Pandora said.

He let them through.

The main hall opened before them.

People danced across the caramel-colored floor, shining beneath golden chandeliers.

A buffet surrounded the dance space. Tables stood nearby.

To the right, a door led to the dining hall.

"Enjoy your time," Pandora said, excusing herself.

"I have some matters to handle."

Dae turned to his soldiers.

Their eyes darted across the room—toward the women, the food, the wine...

There was so much to take in.

"Alright, listen to me! No one gets drunk.

We spend two hours here—then we leave.

And while we're here, look for information. Anything strange.

If you find something, report it immediately.

Dismissed!"

The soldiers dispersed.

In a Cell

(Glacia: I can feel it. We don't have much time. Something is coming.)

"Say… why do you hate me so much?

Yes, you're stuck in my body—

but so are other demons and angels.

Your rage… your hate—there's more to it."

(Glacia: …)

"Well, I figured—if we're dying anyway—why not get to know each other better?"

(Glacia: And what will that change?)

"What will it change not to?"

(Glacia: Nothing. But I'm bored anyway… Fine. I'll allow you to hear my story.)