The forest shifted as they pressed forward.
Sora's white radiance held the oppressive pressure at bay, but the deeper woods grew unnaturally tense, as if the land itself were holding its breath.
The undergrowth trembled. A low, vibrating growl rippled through the trees.
Sora stopped, raising a hand.
From between the twisted trunks, a creature lurched into view—a Dire Wolf. F-rank mana beast.
Its anatomy was grotesquely distorted by volatile mana, with jagged, dull-blue crystalline ridges jutting from its shoulders and ribcage. Its eyes burned with a feral intelligence.
Sora assessed the threat instantly. "A F-rank mana beast. Its raw power is low, but it possesses lethal speed. Watch the claws—they're dense enough to bypass standard light armor."
The beast snarled.
Null's fingers tightened around his sword hilt. "Mind if I take this one?"
Sora turned her head.
His stance was rigid, yet his internal energy flow remained perfectly controlled. "This isn't a training square," she warned. "It will play for your throat."
Null exhaled slowly. "Then I'll keep it away from mine."
Sora nodded, stepping back. "I'll intervene if necessary. The fight is yours."
The beast lunged. Its acceleration was brutal.
Null threw himself aside as razor-sharp talons shredded the position he had occupied a fraction of a second prior, exploding a fallen log into splinters. He recovered on one knee, blade raised.
"Fast," he muttered.
The beast spun and charged again.
Forcing his body into a deep, center-weighted, Null met the assault.
Steel clashed against crystal. The impact vibrated violently up his forearms, forcing his boots to drag through the loam, but his defensive angle held.
The wolf snapped its jaw inches from his face. Null twisted his torso, delivering a desperate, sweeping slash along its flank. Sparks of pressurized energy burst from the wound, but the creature barely registered the pain.
It countered with a lightning-fast backhand swipe. Claws raked across Null's shoulder, spraying blood.
He grunted, the sting of the wound white-hot, but his focus didn't break.
From the rear, Sora watched his movements with narrowing eyes. His execution is unpolished. He has the theoretical forms down, but no actual combat mileage. That made sense. Yet, There's something else. A faint, almost casual ease beneath the tension.
He wasn't panicking. His respiration remained perfectly rhythmic, and his eyes never lost tracking of the wolf's center of mass. He's entirely detached from the fear.
The beast circled him, muscles coiling for a decisive pounce.
Null adjusted his grip, mentally cycling through the thousands of dry-run repetitions drilled into him by the Rainbow Guard commander.
"Basic form," he whispered to himself.
The wolf struck.
This time, Null didn't retreat. He stepped directly inside the beast's guard, parrying the primary swipe, ducking under the secondary jaw snap, and delivering a textbook diagonal counter-slash. The steel bit deep into the creature's chest, leaving a glowing, cauterized line of severed energy pathways.
The wolf howled in agony, rearing back on its hind legs.
Mana surged fiercely along Null's blade. *Basic Sword Art—*
The air vibrated as the steel caught the light. *—Crescent Cut.*
He swung. A dense arc of compressed force cleaved through the beast's neck.
The wolf froze mid-motion before its head slid cleanly off its shoulders. The massive carcass collapsed into the dirt with a hollow, heavy thud.
Silence reclaimed the woods.
Null stood over the corpse, chest heaving as blood dripped from his torn shoulder.
"Yeah," he muttered, wiping his brow. "That's definitely different from hitting a dummy."
Sora approached him immediately, her palms already glowing with restorative magic. "You're injured."
"Just a scratch," he shrugged, though his forearm was visibly twitching from adrenaline fatigue.
She placed her hand over the torn flesh. The soft cyan luminescence washed over the wound, knitting the skin and muscle back together in seconds.
"Your footwork was atrocious," she noted bluntly. "Your timing was entirely reliant on raw reflex."
He smirked. "I'm standing. The wolf isn't."
"You survived," she countered. Then, her tone softened slightly. "Though your psychological composure was... notable."
Null blinked. "Is that a problem?"
She studied his face for a long beat. "No. Just atypical for a novice." She gestured toward the corpse. "Harvest the mana core before the ambient maisma degrades it. Then store the carcass—the hide is intact enough to market."
"Where am I cutting?" Null asked, drawing a smaller knife.
"Just beneath the sternum. Drive it upward."
He followed her direction, slicing through the dense muscle until his blade hit a hard, vibrating object. He pulled out a fist-sized, faintly glowing blue orb—warm to the touch and pulsing with residual mana.
Sora nodded. "That's the core. Alchemists and enchanters pay a premium for clean extractions."
Null tossed it lightly before slipping it into his spatial ring. "And the meat?"
"Store it. The bones can be rendered down for alloy reinforcement."
With a shrug, Null tapped the ring against the wolf's flank. A brief shimmer of spatial distortion enveloped the massive carcass, swallowing it whole.
"Well," he said, wiping his blade clean.
"First official kill handled."
Sora looked deeper into the darkened canopy. "The real danger hasn't started yet."
Null followed her gaze, his dark white eyes reflecting the dimming light. "Good," he said, a faint edge to his voice. "The prologue was getting a bit dry."
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"Hey, Saintess Sora."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"
He kept his pace steady, framing his words carefully. "What exactly constitutes a demon in this world's ecology?"
Sora slowed down, pausing beside a massive, gnarled tree.
"Demons are not merely mutated creatures," she explained. "They are entities native to, or altered by Maisma (Dark Mana)—the inverted, entropic state of True Mana,"
Null narrowed his eyes, waiting.
"Where our true mana dictates order, magic, and evolutionary harmony, Maisma is a virus of pure distortion. It enforces corrosion, contamination and opposition."
She gestured toward the warped vegetation around them. "Demons don't just destroy; they terraform it. They alter the laws of the environment to their contradictory form."
Null hummed. "So they're walking ecological disasters with personalities."
"A brutal interpretation, but quite accurate," Sora resumed her walk.
Null fell back into step beside her. "Where do they come from?"
"The Abyssal Damnation," she said. "The reversed side of a nearby world. It's a dimension where energy exists only in its most volatile, destructive state. When a high-tier entity breaches the dimensional veil, that instability bleeds into that world like an ink stain."
"Does they have a civilization?" Null asked.
"Yes. They possess desire, grand strategy, and distinct political ambitions," Sora said. "Some high-ranking ones seek Chaos. Others seek transformation. A few seek something far worse—the unsealing of the Evil Divinity."
"Yeah, you mentioned that before. Who is this Evil Divinity?"
"The radix of all evil in the world."
Null whistled. "That sounds malevolent."
"Which is why the Divine Sanctum exists," Sora's voice hardened. "To ensure that malevolent point is never reached."
"If the variance is that wide," Null noted, "there's probably some kind of hierarchy, right?"
Sora nodded, "There is. At the base are Lesser Demons—mindless thralls and demon beasts. They're driven purely by instinct and maisma. Dangerous, but predictable."
Null exclaimed. "Cannon fodder,"
"Above them are Greater Demons," she continued. "These possess diluted primordial demonic bloodline. They retain intelligence, can command lesser demons, and often act as regional threats."
"Mid-bosses."
Sora's lips faintly twitched but she pressed on. "Then come the Arch Demons. They possess pure primordial demonic bloodline. Their strength is extraordinary, and many of them comprise the true aristocracy of The Abyssal Damnation."
"And above the nobility?"
A visible chill seemed to settle over Sora's shoulders. "The Demons of Singular Pandemonium," she said softly. "Nine distinct entities. Each one is a calamity in their own right. They serve as the direct hand of the throne, and their mere presence can permanently rewrite an entire geography."
"Let me guess," Null said dryly. "The main bosses."
"They are living natural disasters,"
"And sitting on the throne?"
"The Demon Lord," she said. "An entity of almighty strength and authority. They command all demons, embodies the will of the dark dimension, and possess power rivaling the highest divine beings."
Null digested the information, then curiosity creeped back into his voice. "You keep mentioning Primordial Demonic Bloodline. Is it a genetic source?"
Sora slowed, her white radiance dimmed as she gathered her thoughts, "The Primordial Demonic Bloodline refers to the original lineage of the dark paradigm. The origin of all that is demonic. The Demonic Overlord."
"Demonic Over—" Null's words cut off mid-sentence.
The forest didn't make a sound. It didn't move.But the pressure changed instantly.
Sora's white radiance exploded outward instinctively, forming a dense, blinding sphere of protective light as the ambient atmosphere darkened a notch.
Null's hand slammed onto his hilt, his knuckles locking into place. "Okay," he muttered, eyes scanning the shadows. "This was not part of the lecture."