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Some time ago, shortly after the first encounter between the demon Lie and the man who said his name was C, the two made an agreement and then went their separate ways.
Lie followed the traces of Fury from the demon he wanted to partner with again. Even though that Fury felt a little different, he kept following it. The demon he was going to meet was about to name himself Balety.
C continued moving in a straight line, off any road, for two or three days until he reached a dead city. Most of the buildings and houses seemed intact. It was as if the walls of each structure were fighting their own battle, trying to preserve at least a fragment of the history of a place that once sheltered countless forms of life.
But even if they resisted, it was still just a dead city with no future. If the war didn't destroy it, time would grind it down to dust.
With every step he took through the city, he noticed more details. Despite how much time had passed, nature itself seemed to refuse to reclaim what once belonged to it.
Cockroaches and rats, if any still lived there, didn't dare roam its streets, even though they were completely deserted.
Strong winds carried dust that struck his face beneath his hood. Suddenly, C stopped near an old building, just another among many.
Standing there, watching the dirt gather over his boots, he crouched and touched the ground with his fingertips.
When his energy wrapped around his hand, it revealed itself as a golden force. It was different from Justa Ira, which manifested as countless particles of energy drawn from the user's soul, coating their body and objects, warm and almost comforting.
The moment he used his energy, even his eyes lit up with a vivid gold.
But this golden energy was also different from Fury, which manifested like flames, without particles, the energy of the absolute race of hell, something that could be described as the very fire that would burn humans in damnation.
This golden energy didn't behave like particles or flames. It moved like waves. Cold waves.
With his energy manifested, C released pulses of cold, golden waves that spread across the entire dead city in seconds.
For those few seconds, it felt as if the very air could shiver… as if it could cry from the cold.
Once the scan was complete, he stood up and adjusted his hood, pulling it further forward to hide more of his face.
Back on his feet, he walked until he found a sewer cover in the street. It was marked with scratches and small impact dents, clear signs it had been removed and replaced frequently. It was also the only spot free of dust, something that made no sense in a dead city.
"Looks like I found an entrance," C thought, staring down at it.
"This seems like a good opportunity to test this body's physical strength."
He kicked the sewer cover with one foot, without using his energy.
The cover shot downward like it had been fired from a weapon.
The ground around it cracked, and some pieces didn't just break. They turned to dust before even hitting the floor below.
With the path open, C glanced at his leg.
It was broken. Flesh, muscle, bone, and nerves exposed.
"Seems this body still isn't strong enough to handle my strength without using my Grace."
Covering his body in his cold, golden Grace, his leg began to reconstruct itself. The sound was wet, precise, unsettling. You could almost distinguish each part as it returned to place.
When it was done, his pants were torn and stained with blood.
Without hesitation, he jumped into the sewer.
When he landed, he saw the cover embedded deep into the floor. The hole it created was messy, full of cracks.
"If that existence had kicked it instead of me, the hole would've been perfect. No imperfections."
Pushing that thought aside, he continued through the tunnels. The deeper he went, the more it felt like a vast underground labyrinth.
In a hurry, he coated his leg again in Grace and kicked the ground, sending his energy through the maze, searching, probing.
Eventually, he found them. A large gathering of human souls.
Some were awakened and mature. Others were dormant, immature.
After walking through dry, dark tunnels, he reached them.
It was an underground civilization, people who believed the earth itself would protect them from the absolute races.
Mercenaries.
Most didn't notice him at first. But as soon as he stepped deeper into their "city," those with awakened souls reacted instantly, surrounding him with weapons coated in Justa Ira.
"Who are you?"
"Is this how you treat a simple resident of this city?" C replied.
"You're not one of us. No one here has that kind of cold presence."
"I thought I was hiding it well."
"I'll ask one more time. Answer, or your head won't stay on your shoulders."
"Stop talking and take me to your leader."
The mercenary attacked, aiming a katana at his neck.
Before the blade could touch him, C vanished.
He reappeared behind the attacker, his body lightly coated in Grace. With a simple flick of his pinky finger against the man's neck, a wave of energy surged through him, knocking him unconscious.
"For now, I'd rather not kill you. That would interfere with my plans."
"But if you insist, I won't hesitate."
"Take me to your leader."
They hesitated, fear crawling through their instincts.
Then one man spoke.
"Tie him up. Take him to the leader."
"Seems there's at least one sensible person here."
When they reached the leader's chamber, the doors opened.
"Well then… you caused quite a disturbance looking for me. Introduce yourself."
"So you're the leader? Nice to meet you. I'm C. And you are?"
"To me, 'C' is just a letter. I don't introduce myself to letters. Speak your name and your purpose."
"Calm down. No need to rush," C said, extending his bound hands. "Here, hold these ropes. It's rude to introduce myself properly while tied up."
"My name is… Calamity. And I've heard you people blindly chase power. So, leader, I came here to take your place."
"You call me weak?! Do you know who I am?!"
"Yes. Just a human."
"I am Kallay. Leader and founder. The strongest here."
"So… a sewer rat."
Kallay's rage exploded, his green Justa Ira leaking uncontrollably.
"Then prove it. Fight me."
"Everyone out," Kallay ordered. "Don't return until the new leader calls."
"I like you," Calamity said. "So confident in your weakness."
The doors closed.
Moments later, it was over.
When they reopened…
Calamity sat on the throne, holding Kallay's severed head by the throat.
"Looks like I'm the new boss."
No one dared object.
"Take this trash away."
Kallay's lifeless gray eyes stared into nothing.
And just like that, the city had a new ruler.
Calamity wasted no time. He ordered everyone to train. No exceptions.
Then, a young man burst in.
"You killed my father."
"If you want revenge, you'll die faster than he did."
"…I just turned seventeen."
"Perfect," Calamity smiled. "You might be useful."
He offered him power.
"Help me, and I'll make you strong. Strong enough to kill me one day."
The boy accepted.
He swallowed a glowing fragment.
Pain consumed him. Steam burst from his body. His strength surged.
He survived.
"Good," Calamity said. "Now train. And don't waste that power."
Inside, he laughed.
"I'll devour your soul when the time comes."
"Prepare yourselves. We're going to Valerium. We have a child to infiltrate the Order."
---
Back in the present…
The fight between Kilay and Lira was about to begin.
---
Grace:
Grace is the equivalent of Justa Ira for humans and Fury for the absolute race of hell.
It is the energy of the absolute race of heaven.
Golden, radiant… yet cold.
It moves like waves.