It's all Real

The sound of the demon's body hitting the ground echoed, the blood pouring from his mouth staining the floor. The eye on the hilt of the sword vanished that instant. The blade, once red, returned to its silver hue. No breath came from the demon anymore.

Still, that distorted smile lingered on Revild's face. His hair swayed gently with the breeze that blew. The putrid stench emanating from the sword now filled the entire area. Revild stood firm, surrounded by an intense aura of resurrection, which had yet to dissipate. He stared at the demon's lifeless body, adrenaline surging through him, ready to face anything that came his way.

Planting his feet on the ground to maintain his focus, Revild kept his gaze fixed on the dead demon. Without any clear reason, he stared with pure disdain and insane coldness.

Meanwhile, everything spun around Takimira, Otakura, and Alya, who was still lying on the ground, weak, the sharp pain from the sword wound still radiating through her body. Revild showed no remorse at the sight of Sasha's corpse—thin, bloodless, lying there. The three of them could barely comprehend the scene before them, their trembling eyes locked on it.

But something else had changed: the black marks on their foreheads had completely disappeared. The dark arm—the sword's hilt—had crumbled into dust.

The wind carried the dust away. At that moment, Revild remained standing, his feet planted firmly as the resurrection aura dispersed with a gust, pushing the dust further into the sky.

Alya's breathing was faltering. The wound was causing massive blood loss, her fingers barely twitching.

"Help... please help me..."

Panting, she reached out toward Revild, who stood motionless, his expression growing colder, his demeanor shifting into something entirely new. What once seemed like guarded emotional distance now radiated visible, tangible detachment.

Takimira, standing near Otakura, couldn't take his eyes off Sasha's corpse. Trembling violently, he finally moved, kneeling beside Alya, his gaze still glued to the fallen friend.

"I think... I can help," he said, voice trembling, kneeling before Alya. From his hands emerged glowing green light, which he placed over Alya's wound.

Her body jolted slightly. Her eyes glimmered with the same green light, matching the glow radiating from Takimira's hands. Her wounds pulsed with green light, slowly knitting themselves closed. Takimira's magic worked beyond just her surface wounds—it healed her from the inside, revitalizing her strength.

Otakura watched in silence as Alya was healed.

"Can you... try that with her too?" he asked, eyes shifting to Sasha's body.

"I'll... try," Takimira replied, still trembling. Though his body was unstable from the trauma of the fight against the demon, his mind was drowning in fear.

Slow footsteps echoed through the silence.

"You're not going to try anything else. We need to keep moving if we want to find that elixir before the other players."

That cold, mechanical voice, devoid of compassion, was pure pride and determination. Revild spoke it as if he were a machine. Turning around, he resumed their path—the same one they had been following before the demon's appearance.

Revild focused on the streets ahead, the rows of buildings like silent sentinels. Otakura gritted his teeth so hard that faint embers escaped from his breath. Rising to his feet, he glared at Revild.

"Whatever that resurrection thing you copied from that demon, Ragnoto, is doing to you, don't you dare treat people's lives like trash!"

Nothing could be heard except Otakura's shout, like a bomb ticking, spitting flames of fury. His face contorted in rage, eyebrows furrowed deeply.

Revild exhaled lightly, casting a glance over his shoulder at Otakura with the same emotionless coldness he had embraced ever since the resurrection.

"Until I win this game, I don't have time for grief. Let's go."

Revild's words cut deep, making Otakura bite down hard on his own lips.

Swallowing hard, Takimira also felt the crushing chill emanating from Revild.

The green light surrounding Alya's body faded, her wounds fully healed. Takimira stood up slowly, taking hesitant steps toward Sasha—but his legs felt anchored to the spot, frozen by fear. Trauma weighed down his every motion.

"But... if we don't do anything for her... when we get out of this game, she might be mad at us for not trying..."

His voice was barely a whisper, shaking. Still, his mind clung to the idea that all of this was just a simulation, that once dead in the game, the real-world body would remain untouched.

Revild turned fully toward them, his footsteps heavy on the cracked pavement. His gaze was terrifying to Takimira, whose breathing was ragged with panic. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, but Revild kept advancing slowly.

"Are you really that stupid that you haven't realized yet?" Revild said, grabbing Takimira by the shoulders and leaning into his ear. Otakura nearly dashed forward, thinking Revild was about to strike him.

"If you die here... it's over for you. You think she's still alive in the real world? Pathetic. Understand this—everything here... is real."

The words poured cold dread into Takimira's heart. His expression twisted in horror, his panic written all over his face.

Cracks spread across the street, the stench of death thick in the air.

Though Alya's body was healed, her strength was sapped, her spirit crushed by Revild's merciless whisper.

Their focus wasn't only on Sasha's body anymore; their eyes now locked on Revild—and the sharp, brutal truth of his words.

"I don't have time to stand here. Whoever's coming, come now."

Without another word, Revild turned and began walking again. The silence was so profound that the sound of his footsteps echoed like hammer blows.

The empty city stretched before him, lifeless, the tall buildings looming over the streets like silent witnesses. Revild's gaze drifted to the blue sky above, a cool breeze brushing against his skin.

And then the memory returned.

A bustling amusement park, filled with laughter, children, parents, siblings. The aroma of street food hung thick in the air. Lush, green grass beneath their feet, perfectly maintained.

Haruto, gripping Revild's arm tightly, looked up at his older brother with serene admiration.

"Your arms are so strong... When I grow up, I want to be just like you, big bro! You'll always be my hero!"

His innocent smile was radiant, filled with sincere admiration. His bright blue eyes—so much like Revild's—shone with purity.

Back in the present, Revild stopped walking, staring at the sky. This wasn't coldness anymore—it was despair. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling no matter how hard he tried to hold them back.

Otakura, Takimira, and Alya moved closer, but with one swift motion, Revild wiped the tears away, hiding his pain from them. Then he took a firm step forward, pushing on.

∆∆∆∆∆∆

Inside the tallest building in the city, a red glow pulsed gently through a chamber. Floating at its center was a single vial, its crimson liquid illuminating the room, steady, unwavering.

Kratos stood watching the elixir, his long red hair brushing against his pristine crimson-and-white cloak. He lifted a hand to his chin, deep in thought, then vanished in an instant. The glow of the room lingered.

Appearing in his throne room, his cloak billowed as he adjusted it before sitting on his ornate throne. Ereimode was already kneeling there, awaiting his king.

"Do you have something to report to me?" Kratos asked, resting his chin on one hand, his voice cold and sharp.

Ereimode lifted his head slowly, each movement sluggish as if trapped in molasses.

"There's a human... who moved... within my power."

His words dripped out like thick syrup, several seconds between each syllable.

TOC. TOC.

Kratos tapped his fingers against the throne, the rhythmic sound echoing through the hall.

Before he could speak further, the throne room doors burst open.

A figure kneeled before him, two black circles on his forehead. His long green hair hung forward, restrained by two blackened arms—similar to the demon's arms Revild had fought.

But these were different. These dark arms tightly bound the kneeling figure's own arms, while green tears matching his eye color streamed down his cheeks.

"Uro gü ü tå aē Naruè!" he howled, speaking in the ancient tongue of demons. (Translation: "They killed my brother, Naruè!")

Kratos rose from his throne, stepping past Ereimode. He grasped the green hair of the kneeling demon firmly.

"Nä ümo üri oē uro tatē cuē cau aē, ünan tę Garu, tę æī ī ecü uro ücan!" Kratos declared. (Translation: "Don't cry, my child. They may have killed your brother... but you, Garu... you will make them pay!")

The dark arms squeezed tighter around Garu's own, sharing his anguish.

"Ė, æ, ca, tœ, uro!" Garu shouted. (Translation: "I will kill them all!")

His voice was ragged with fury. His mind reflected only one thought now:

Avenge his brother.