[The Devil is on the hunt]

Achoo.

The soft sneeze broke the silence like a pin in velvet.

Kael stood on the manor's rooftop, arms folded, eyes scanning the grounds below.

The cold bit through his sleeves.

He shivered.

"Why do I feel… chills?"

Yue floated nearby, her brow furrowed.

"I hope you're not in another kind of trouble."

Kael shook his head.

"No. We're just… high up. Wind, maybe."

Right?

Then—tap.

Light footsteps behind him.

Selene emerged from the shadows, her cloak fluttering in the wind, her movements silent and controlled.

Too controlled.

Kael turned to greet her, a faint smile on his lips.

"Back already?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Her eyes lingered on him just a beat too long.

Then, without a word, she reached into her cloak and pulled out the red mana passkey.

Kael accepted it with a nod.

"You really are the best."

At that, her lips curled into a soft, almost bashful smile.

For a fleeting second, she looked like the Selene he knew—sharp, competent, restrained.

Then she spoke, voice low.

"Do you… need anything else?"

Kael hesitated.

"No. That's all for now."

She didn't move.

Just stood there, watching him.

The rooftop wind stirred her hair.

Her eyes didn't blink.

The silence thickened.

Kael cleared his throat.

"If I do need something, you'll be the first I tell."

Selene stepped a little closer.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Kael… you won't leave me, right?"

Something in her tone didn't match the question—too soft, too deadly.

Kael felt a knot twist in his gut.

This feels important.

Like… fate-level important.

He panicked.

"What? No—never. I'm right here."

Then came the laugh.

Not joyful.

Not amused.

A quiet, dangerous laugh—low and fraying at the edges.

A sound like silk ripping.

It scraped down his spine like a cold knife.

Even Yue flinched.

"Oh no."

The laugh died out slowly, replaced by a silence that seemed to lean in.

Selene tilted her head, smiling slightly.

"That's good. Because I was thinking…"

She turned to leave, then glanced back casually—too casually.

"Oh. Kael, I almost forgot.

I, uh… accidentally killed three maids."

Kael's brain stalled.

"...Accidentally?"

"Mmhmm." She gave a small, content nod.

"They were saying weird things.

So I froze them. Then shattered them."

Kael blinked.

"...Shattered?"

Selene raised an eyebrow.

"You said stealth was fine. You didn't say I couldn't clean up."

His jaw twitched.

He smiled.

It was hollow.

"No, you're right. I'll handle it."

"Thank you," she said sweetly.

Then left.

Just like that.

Kael remained standing on the roof, staring at the night sky like it held answers.

It didn't.

Yue drifted closer, her voice uneasy.

"Is she okay?"

Kael didn't move.

"I don't know," he muttered. Then, quieter:

"And I don't think I want to."

SLAP.

The sound cracked through the air—Kael had struck his own cheek, hard enough to refocus.

"Focus, Kael," he muttered.

Below the rooftop, the estate grounds stretched wide in flickering torchlight.

Guard numbers were thin—most had been reassigned to escort the wounded Duke safely to the city walls.

He sighed.

Good.

From his dimensional ring, he drew the Devil's Mask—blackened bone edged in crimson, eyes glowing with infernal light.

As he slipped it over his face, his voice dropped into a whisper:

"The Devil is on the hunt."

Then he leapt.

Wind howled past him as he dropped silently, landing in a crouch among the shadows.

His dark robes blended into the night.

Yue floated beside him, pale and silent, her ghostlight dim to avoid notice.

They moved like phantoms through the western garden—headed for the back wing of the estate.

And then—

A flicker.

Behind a thick bush up ahead:

Two guards stood stiffly on either side of the sunken iron door, their armor glinting dully in the torchlight.

Rank 1 mages.

Nothing Kael couldn't handle.

But even weak men can scream.

And screams bring stronger ones.

Kael crouched.

His hand found a branch, snapped it with a sharp crack, then flicked it into the hedge.

Rustle.

One guard blinked, stifling a yawn.

"You hear that?"

The other grunted.

"Probably a rat."

"Still gotta check it," the first said lazily.

Armor clanked as one guard—taller, with a halberd—moved off to investigate.

He didn't return....

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

The first guard frowned, stepping cautiously into the brush.

"Timmy?" he called. Silence.

His voice grew tighter.

"Oi—Timmy, stop playing—where the hell are you?"

He edged deeper.

Only the trees answered.

Then—a snap behind him.

He whirled, halberd raised, heart thundering.

A squirrel darted past his boot.

He exhaled sharply, relief curdling into irritation.

"Damn it, you little—"

But then—

Timmy stepped out of the dark.

Still in full armor.

Silent.

The first guard relaxed, annoyed.

"You bastard, I nearly pissed myself. Why weren't you answering—?"

He stepped closer.

"Timmy?"

No response.

Just the blank helmet, facing him.

Something was wrong.

He reached for Timmy's shoulder—and the armored figure moved.

The helmet twisted, revealing what lay beneath.

Not Timmy.

But a grinning red mask, its carved fangs glistening in the low torchlight.

The guard's mouth fell open.

"D-D-D—"

A flash of silver.

Shhhk.

His words died with his breath.

Kael caught him before he hit the ground, one hand muffling the gurgle, the other sliding the blade from beneath his ribs.

He dragged the limp body behind the bush—where Timmy's real corpse already lay, bent awkwardly, neck twisted, visor cracked inward.

Kael adjusted the stolen helmet, wiped his blade, and stepped over the bloodied grass toward the sealed door.

Yue hovered silently above him, arms crossed, her voice barely a whisper.

"You're getting… disturbingly good at this."

Kael coughed.

"I watched a drama once."

She gave him a deadpan stare.

"A drama doesn't teach you how to slit a man's throat while wearing his friend's face."

He shrugged under the armor.

"Guess I learned fast."

They vanished into the darkness.

And behind them, blood soaked quietly into the soil.

The sealed door hissed open as Kael pressed the stolen guard key into the slot.

Cold air spilled out.

Darkness greeted him.

A narrow corridor stretched ahead—quiet, stone-lined, pulsing faintly with embedded mana lines.

A place not meant to be walked by anyone without clearance.

Kael stepped inside.

Yue hovered just ahead, her glow faint as candlelight.

"I remember this wing," she whispered.

"Follow closely.

Two more turns… then the vault room.

The illegal storage.

Artifacts. Spells. All of it."

"And the cell?" Kael asked, voice low.

"At the very end."

Kael nodded.

He walked in silence, head slightly lowered beneath the stolen helmet.

A few patrolling guards passed him—none questioned his presence.

A glance, a nod, and they moved on.

They didn't feel the Devil behind the mask.

But just ahead—one door stood out.

Heavy.

Reinforced.

Two guards flanked it, eyes sharp, both Rank 2 mages.

Kael paused.

His hand rested casually on the sword at his hip.

Yue's voice was a whisper in his mind.

"That's it.

The next tunnel leads to everything: Scrolls, cursed relics… and at the end, the Divine General."

Kael exhaled.

He had hoped for stealth.

But fate never liked peace.

He stepped forward.

Both guards straightened, tension rising.

"Hey! Identify yourself!"

"Why are you here? This area's restricted!"

Their hands twitched toward spell triggers—Kael saw it instantly.

Too late.

He jumped.

In a single breath, he cast four Moonblades—two at each guard.

The air shrieked with slicing light.

Both men dodged, shocked by the speed.

"He's casting without incantation?!"

Exactly what Kael wanted.

Their eyes weren't on him anymore.

Dreamweaver flashed.

Kael was already there, driving the blade through the first guard's chest.

Blood sprayed against stone.

The second recoiled, face contorted in panic.

"Fireball!"

Kael's foot slammed into the ground, Amplification bursting through his leg.

He launched himself mid-air as flames roared beneath him.

In flight, he cast two more Moonblades.

The guard ducked again—desperate, frantic—but Kael descended like a shadow, sword-first.

The blade cleaved through him before his next spell finished.

Silence.

Only blood pooling.

But the damage was done.

Footsteps.

Shouts.

More coming.

Kael crouched beside the bodies, searching fast.

A small key.

He took it, flicked it into his ring.

Not for this door.

It needed the Red mana passkey—the one only a slave would know.

Kael pulled it from his cloak, muttering,

"Well-structured security. Of course the two guarding it couldn't enter."

The passkey glowed.

The door unsealed with a rumbling click.

He stepped through—just as a shout rang out behind him.

"STOP!"

A cluster of guards rounded the corner—spells already forming at their fingertips.

Flames roared down the corridor.

Kael darted sideways, robes whipping, Moonblades flashing to life in both hands.

Blades of pale mana whirled into the advancing spells, slicing them mid-air with shrieking arcs of light.

But one guard broke into a full sprint.

Reckless.

Brave.

Stupid.

He lunged as the door creaked nearly shut.

Kael didn't stop him.

He let him through—halfway.

Then—

grabbed him.

The man's scream echoed as Kael yanked him across the threshold.

The door slammed closed on him mid-sentence.

SHHHK.

The door sealed.

Half a corpse slumped against it.

Blood painted the steel.

Kael exhaled.

"You wanted to enter, bastard," he said coldly. "Happy now?"

On the other side—silence.

Then shouts.

Panic.

"H-he just… cut him in half!"

"No… no no no—he's locked in!"

"He's inside the vault!"

"How?! That door needs a coded passkey!"

"Enough! Master Veyran has a spare key. Go—GO!"

The alarm surged through the Duke's estate.

Lights blazed.

Sigils flared.

Steel rang.

But inside the sealed tunnel… Kael walked forward, alone.

Step by step, toward the forbidden vaults.

Toward the prison beyond.

Toward the Divine General.