[End of Training — 8:00 PM]
Raven finally succumbed to exhaustion.
His body collapsed onto the warehouse floor, his back hitting the cold concrete with no strength left to brace himself. His breathing was heavy and erratic. Every muscle ached, as if being pulled and twisted repeatedly. His stamina was nearly drained.
But beneath the pain—
was satisfaction.
In just one day, Raven's world had changed completely.
he stared at the dark warehouse ceiling, recalling what he had learned.
Controlling his newfound powers, not just unleashing them wildly.
Space jumping—teleporting five meters in the blink of an eye.
Summing and maintaining demonic flames without burning himself.
And most disturbing of all—seeing a spiritual world that had been hidden from ordinary humans.
Impossible progress.
Unimaginable to a normal human.
Beside Raven, Azaelith sat—or rather, hovered a few centimeters above the floor. Her hair swayed gently in the wind, her eyes observing Raven with a softer expression than usual.
"You did well," she said finally. Her tone was no longer cold and oppressive. Almost proud. "Better than I expected."
Raven smiled faintly without looking up. "I have a great teacher," he replied, a hint of sarcasm.
Azaelith snorted softly. "Or a student too desperate to fail."
Silence enveloped the warehouse.
The only sound was the night wind seeping through the cracks in the metal walls, mixed with the distant hum of the city—vehicles, faint sirens, life going on without knowing what lurked beyond this old warehouse.
"Tomorrow?" Raven asked, breaking the silence.
"Advanced training," Azaelith answered without hesitation. "Combination of techniques. Strategy. Decision-making under pressure. And—"
She stopped abruptly.
The air shifted.
Raven felt it instantly.
Azaelith tensed. Her entire demeanor shifted from relaxed to wary. Her head snapped toward the warehouse door, as if something beneath the thick steel had just caught her attention.
"What's wrong?" Raven asked, slowly rising to a sitting position.
"Energy," Azaelith replied quietly. "Lots of it. And it's approaching."
Raven stood up abruptly, exhaustion forced down. he activated his spiritual vision.
The world changed.
The familiar warehouse was now covered in another layer—a faint energy flow, a shadow of movement invisible to the naked eye.
And in the distance—
he saw it.
Dozens of red dots glowed at the edge of his vision, moving rapidly, becoming clearer by the second. They moved in unison, directed, united in purpose.
This warehouse.
They weren't the warm orange glow of spirit rats.
Nor were they the golden white glow of Tamers.
This was different.
Dark red.
Cold.
Hungry.
And full of evil intent.
"Fifteen energy signatures," Azaelith said, standing up, her body floating slightly higher. Her posture was defensive, ready to fight. "Low-rank spirits. Minor ghosts. They're attracted by your demonic energy."
Her gaze hardened.
"They've come to feed."
Raven clenched his fists. Black-red flames pulsed softly beneath his skin, awaiting orders.
"I'm ready," he said, though a faint doubt lingered in his chest. "Right?"
Azaelith turned to him, assessing—not as a mentor, but as a commander on the battlefield.
Then she smiled.
A sharp smile. Predatory.
"We'll see," she said lightly. "Consider this a field test."
The warehouse door shuddered.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
BANG.
The metal doors burst inward under violent force, hinges screaming as they tore free. Cold air rushed in, carrying with it a pressure that made Raven's skin crawl.
And then they came.
Shadows spilled through the opening like living smoke, flowing unnaturally across the concrete floor. Their forms were vaguely humanoid—arms, legs, torsos—but warped, stretched, and broken in ways no living body should be. Some dragged along the ground. Others hovered inches above it, never quite touching the surface.
Eyes ignited in the darkness.
Red. White. Flickering like dying embers.
Their mouths opened wide, far too wide, revealing rows of teeth layered upon teeth—too many, too sharp, constantly shifting as if chewing on nothing.
Fifteen of them.
They spread with terrifying speed, fanning out and surrounding the warehouse in seconds, cutting off every possible escape.
All of their gazes locked onto Raven.
Not with anger.
Not with malice.
But with hunger.
A raw, aching need that pressed against his chest and made his breath hitch.
Then the pressure deepened.
Something heavier stepped forward from behind them.
A larger silhouette emerged from the shadows—taller, broader, its form far more solid than the others. Where the lesser ghosts flickered and warped, this one stood. Its presence crushed the air around it.
An Alpha.
A crown of jagged bone rested upon its head, fused directly into its skull. Rusted chains trailed from its body, scraping against the floor with every step, the sound echoing through the warehouse like a funeral bell.
Its eyes burned brighter than the rest.
When its mouth opened, the sound that came out was wrong—many voices layered together, overlapping, whispering and screaming in unison.
"HYBRID…FLESH…SWEET…"
Raven didn't hesitate.
Demon Flame surged through his veins.
Black-and-red fire ignited around his hands, crawling up his arms like living shadows. The heat was intense—but familiar now. Obedient.
Beside him, Azaelith manifested fully, her form sharp and real, red eyes blazing with controlled fury.
"Remember your training," she said, her voice calm despite the chaos closing in. "Control. Timing. And most importantly—"
The ghosts lunged.
All fifteen at once.
They screamed as they attacked, their bodies blurring as they crossed the distance in an instant.
"—SURVIVE."
The warehouse exploded into motion.