The Barrel and Flame sat in the heart of the Demon Quarter, tucked into a narrow alley far from the polished streets of the royals. Inside, the air was thick with charred meat, cracked stone, and the sharp bite of fermented spirits. Laughter, shouting, and mug clanks blended into a familiar, rough soundtrack.
"So that human prince," muttered Gorlan, a wiry demon with spindly arms and stubby horns, leaning forward like a man sharing forbidden gossip. "Strange they let the sacrifice live long enough to reach the rift. Makes no sense."
Tharok, broader and tusk-jawed, snorted into his drink. "You talk like you know how the royals think. Look at those tiny horns of yours. Royal blood, was it? Must've fallen off in your sleep."
"Ignore him," Gorlan said flatly. "Point is, that boy shouldn't still be alive. Not with how the demon king runs things."
"It is weird," Tharok admitted. "Humans never roam free in the Nightweave, especially for days on end. The royals hate humans more than they hate taxes."
A tall demoness with violet hair and mithril-laced armor tapped her mug once before speaking, lips curling into a sly smile. "I was there when he arrived. Thought it'd be a standard report for King Darius. Then it became… something else."
Gorlan's jaw went slack. "Benova, you're a general. What could possibly surprise you?"
Benova drummed her fingers on the table—slow, deliberate. "He blocked the Princess's mana blade. Nullified it. The blade that cuts through anything. One moment it existed. The next… nothing."
Tharok froze mid-chew.
Gorlan dropped his food entirely. "What in the void—"
Benova licked her lips thoughtfully. "I want answers too."
But before Gorlan could comment on Joshua's "silly human pride," the world outside erupted.
A flash of white light.
A crack like stone splitting in half.
The entire bar shook—mugs flying, bottles shattering.
Dust and debris blasted inward as the street trembled under magic dense enough to make their teeth ache.
Benova's eyes widened. "That level of power… he survived the trial. But the rift is nowhere near here. So what is he—"
She didn't finish. She was already sprinting toward the broken window.
Tharok quivered. "Maybe we should, uh… leave before something rips us in half—"
The bar exploded into chaos. Demons stampeded for the door like survival itself was on sale.
Everyone fled—except Gorlan, Benova, and a horrified Tharok who seemed to have grown roots.
Through the shattered window, they saw Joshua Vale lying in the street, trembling but alive. One eye glowing red, the other blue. The kind of sight scholars would faint over.
Joshua winced, forcing himself upright.
I'm… okay? Nothing feels broken…
[Of course you are!! You're the Blood Prince now!]
[VITALITY – 99.5%]
[HEMOKENESIS – CAST]
His red eye flared as blood from a fresh cut streamed outward, weaving into a pulsing crimson lattice. The construct expanded until it dwarfed nearby buildings—alive, responsive, defensive.
"Once again… sorry."
The cheerful voice echoed seconds before a pillar of white light slammed into the street, forming a crater.
Clint stepped out, white hair glowing, magic distorting the air around him like warped glass. Despite the devastation, his smile was polite—almost warm.
"You are a very strange human," Clint said conversationally. "After seeing your memories, I suppose I understand why you stand tall even knowing you're about to die."
Joshua steadied himself. "Who's making you do this? Who's giving the orders?"
Clint raised one finger. A black orb formed—pure void.
Another finger. Essence itself radiated from its tip.
Then he crossed them.
Reality screamed.
The energies fused into something that shouldn't exist—shifting colors and shapes the mind rejected.
"I call it Chaos magic," Clint explained lightly. "It's unstoppable. Unblockable. Tears through anything. Your blood magic is commendable… but insufficient."
A blur snapped through the air.
Lysandra.
Her mana blade struck Clint's back in a savage, perfect arc—
—and stopped instantly.
Six layered spell circles materialized behind him, humming with impossible geometry.
Clint did not turn. "Princess, that was terribly rude."
[Joshua. Joshua. JOSHUA—this is really bad. We are NOT high enough level for this. We can't run. We can't fight. I—I—]
"Breathe," Joshua whispered to Crimson. "We've been here before."
Lysandra landed beside him, blade burning crimson, then blue. She gave him a quick nod.
They charged.
Blood spikes tore through the air like a crimson storm.
Lysandra whispered, "Soul Burn," as her blade ignited into something beyond its limits.
Their combined attack slammed into Clint's defenses.
The spell circles cracked—white fractures webbing outward.
"Oh, impressive," Clint said, sounding genuinely delighted. "Yes, the two of you synchronize well. Perhaps too well. They won't like that."
Then, calmly:
"Of course, I can just cast more."
Five additional circles layered over the cracking ones, restoring an impenetrable fortress of magic.
Back inside the ruined bar, Benova's jaw hung open.
"Since when did he get this strong? And who is—"
"We're dead. We're dead. We're dead—" Tharok wailed until Gorlan smothered his mouth.
"If he hears us, we are," Gorlan hissed.
Clint raised his newly fused spell, forming a tendril of shifting black-and-white energy that devoured light.
"My attack never misses," he said simply. "Like a beast drawn to mana. So—can you stop it?"
The construct ballooned, growing until it dwarfed even the Demon King's palace. Joshua felt his stomach drop.
"After everything I've done to survive…" He laughed bitterly. "Of course it wouldn't be easy."
"We meet force with force!" Lysandra shouted. "You're not the boy you were. You don't have to face pain alone anymore!"
"I know!" Joshua gathered every drop of power—
A voice cut through the chaos like a blade:
"So you came after all."
Darius stepped forward, hand resting on Lysandra's shoulder. His amber eyes locked onto Clint with the familiarity of two old rivals.
"It's been decades, Clint."
The chaos magic vanished, dispelled as if bending towards the demon king's will.
"Oh? My favorite candidate," Clint said with genuine warmth. "Your Bloodbind trial was unmatched… until now." He gestured at Joshua. "But surely you don't intend to interfere? I threaten only the human. That aligns with your kingdom's interests, does it not?"
Darius scoffed. "I'd rather keep his power on our side—disgusting as it is to look at."
"You cannot touch me," Clint reminded him. "You know the laws that bind my kind."
"True," Darius smiled coldly. "But a king wins by strategy."
He stepped aside.
"Step forward, my trump card."
A demoness with purple hair and a fighter's build emerged. No ornate armor. No theatrics. Just quiet, lethal confidence.
From the rubble, Benova choked on her breath. "Sis…?"
Joshua's heart lurched. "V-Veyla?"
Her expression softened. "Good to see you alive, Joshua. If needed, I'll handle this."
Lysandra laughed—a sharp, delighted sound that barely hid her satisfaction.
"This is bad," she said.
"Bad?" Joshua asked.
"For him," she replied, staring at Clint.
For the first time, Clint's smile faltered.
"Princess," Veyla said calmly. "As your Shield, I request permission to intervene."
Clint opened his mouth—
A fist hit his chest.
The sound was indescribable—air detonating, mountains cracking, reality shuddering.
Clint became a streak across the horizon, smashing through mountain after mountain until distant explosions echoed like falling stars.
Joshua's jaw dropped. "What—WHAT did I just see?!"
Lysandra folded her arms proudly. "Some demon bloodlines… when mixed properly… produce very inconvenient results for their enemies."
Above the devastation, Veyla reappeared mid-air, already exchanging blows with Clint. Her fists glowed with a black aura like a compressed physical force.
"A Shield must always outmatch the one they protect," Lysandra added smugly. "Tonic to the Demon King… and Veyla to me."
Joshua felt faint. "She's a Shield to someone who doesn't need protecting… but somehow she's even stronger…"
"She only has one ability," Lysandra said, reverent. "And basic elemental magic. Nothing else. But if her fists choose an opponent… nothing in existence can stop them from connecting."
Down in the crater, Clint rose with golden blood on his lips—smile gone.
"Well," he muttered. "This is… inconvenient."
Veyla descended, eyes locked onto him like a predator selecting prey.
"I don't care who you are," she said evenly. "If the Princess values his life, you will not touch the prince."
Clint's eyes narrowed. Ten spell circles snapped into place around him—more than he'd ever used.
"Shall we test that?"
Veyla was already moving.
Every circle shattered like paper.
Her fist collided with Clint's guard, and the resulting shockwave erased every building within a hundred meters.
Joshua and Lysandra were blown backward—saved only by Darius raising a thin barrier in front of them.
"This," Darius said calmly, "is why I keep her close."
In the center of the ruin, Veyla and Clint continued a battle that didn't look mortal—or even magical. It looked mythic.
And for the first time since stepping into this realm, Joshua realized:
He still wasn't even close to being the most dangerous thing in the demon kingdom.