The next moment—Gabriel's heartbeat stopped.
His breath caught for an instant, his lungs frozen in silence. Yet, the blood flowing through his body continued moving, steady—forced onward by the precise manipulation of Mana.
"Heh…" Gabriel chuckled softly. "With this… even if Ash were in a place without air, he could still survive."
He opened his eyes slowly, his expression shifting to deep contemplation—sharper, more focused.
"Only with Mana," he murmured, "I can replace the function of oxygen."
He paused for a moment, then added in a calm, matter-of-fact tone—as if discussing something that should be impossible.
"If the heart stops… Mana circulation takes over pumping."
"If the lungs cease functioning… energy exchange replaces respiration."
"This body no longer depends on oxygen."
"As long as my Mana circulation is active… I remain alive."
"Open status," Gabriel said shortly.
_________________
Name: Gabriel Michaelis
Race: Human
Title: Chess Master
Job: Mage
Authority Level: 5
***
Strength (STR): 28 (10+) {15+}
Vitality (VIT): 28 (10+) {15+}
Agility (AGI): 34 (10+) {15+}
Intelligent (INT): 71 (20+) {35+}
__________________
Gabriel stared at his attribute status screen, a puzzled expression on his face—an emotion not unlike the one he felt when he first acquired the "Circulation Energy" Skill, particularly regarding the Title section.
Somehow, he had obtained the Title Chess Master.
For a moment, Gabriel tried to guess the reason. The only possibility that came to mind was its connection to his training of Asta.
On the other hand, the effect of the Title itself was impressive, as it increased his INT by thirty points.
Now, his Mana was on par with that of a noble. Considering his overall 50 Units of Compression Energy, Gabriel's Mana potential could be said to rival that of a member of the Dark Triad.
Consequently, his chances of facing the Dark Triad had increased significantly.
Although the drive to challenge them stemmed from a simple desire—to satisfy his sense of "cool"—Gabriel was not reckless.
He always anticipated every possibility, devising steps designed to read the situation, minimize risks, and maximize his chances of survival.
All of those strategies reflected the hallmark of his Observer persona: analytical, calm, and always one step ahead.
Moments later, the sun finally rose in the east. Its light traced the horizon, piercing the remnants of darkness.
With a slight focus, he manipulated his Mana, forcing his heart to beat again, blood to flow, and his lungs to draw in fresh air.
His first breath felt tight, foreign.
"Kind of… uncomfortable to breathe all of a sudden," Gabriel muttered in his mind, his voice nearly drowned out by the morning wind. "Heh, I'll get used to it eventually."
Putting that sensation aside, Gabriel stood upright and closed his attribute status screen. With a casual motion, he swept his black bangs back.
Instantly, Gigan—long hidden beneath his hair—became fully visible.
The geometric circles within it rotated slowly, as if the world itself were being recalculated under his gaze.
A thin, almost whisper-like smile formed on his lips.
It was time.
He would write his own narrative.
Ash gazed at the first sunlight spilling over the horizon—a perfect offering for the scene that had just been born in his mind.
His heartbeat synced with the world, his first breath piercing the void, filling life with a perfect rhythm.
Alright… it fit.
And as a final flourish, Gabriel added words meant only for himself.
"Bearer of Demon Power…" he murmured softly, as if summoning his own fate.
His hand rose, a light, unhurried motion—perfectly controlled.
And at that moment, from the eye sockets of Licht's skull—the demonic form that had always watched him—and from the distant treetops, dozens of pale white Beetles flew, circling around him.
They were not mere insects. They were accents, the chorus of the narrative he was writing himself, a declaration that the world would soon hear the story of Ash.
In digital form, the pages of his Grimoire flipped several times.
[- Dark Matter Creation Magic: Seraphim fluggel des Leerenlichts -]
{Translate: Dark Matter Creation Magic: Seraphim wing of the Void Light}
Three pairs of pale white wings sprouted from Gabriel's back.
The next instant, he flapped all three pairs, rocketing forward at several Mach, leaving trails of white lines streaking across the sky.
A few strands of white feathers detached and drifted downward, spinning briefly before vanishing, as if absorbed by the morning wind.
Elsewhere, dozens of Beetles followed from behind, like soldiers ready to enter the battlefield.
***
"Humans… are the embodiment of demons."
Dante gazed across the snow-covered mountains stretching out before him. The cold wind swept through his cloak, yet his expression remained calm—almost cynical.
He was a dark-haired man, his hair slicked back. The most striking feature on his face was a black scar across his forehead, jagged and unnatural, like crude stitching.
Dante wore a high-collared black shirt, a brown jacket, and a dark blue fur-lined cloak with a short white fur mantle over his shoulders.
His black pants were tucked into knee-high black boots. Two black belts circled his waist, while another strap crossed from his left shoulder to his right hip.
On his head rested a golden crown adorned with tall spikes and dimly gleaming red gems.
"Anger, fear, hatred, revenge, destruction…" he continued evenly. "Evil is the true nature of humanity."
As his words fell into the frozen air, the shadow beneath Dante's feet stretched.
It elongated, transforming into a demonic silhouette—complete with towering horns and a pair of wings swaying with the pale light of the snow.
Suddenly, Dante spun around. He sensed a presence—something—that had been approaching silently all this time.
Before him stood Gabriel, fully in his Ash Persona.
"Good morning, Dante…" Gabriel said calmly. "The Dark Triad—Dante Zogratis, Host of the Demon King, Lucifero."
Dante froze, frowning. Gabriel's mana felt strange—powerful, cold, and oppressive. Not entirely human… yet clearly not an ordinary demon either.
What unsettled him most was the young man's face, shrouded in mist. It wasn't an illusion—he was certain.
No magic was active around him.
And most disturbing of all—this boy knew him. Even the demon that resided within him.
"You…" Dante said slowly, his tone hardening, "who are you?"
"Ash," Gabriel replied simply. "The pale mist that watches the stars."
Dante let out a short, dry laugh.
"Hah… interesting," he muttered. "Not a noble. Not a demon. Yet you speak the name Lucifero without hesitation."
He finally stepped forward, one deliberate step. The pressure of his mana intensified around him, as if the ground and air themselves were responding to his presence.
"Mist, you say?" Dante continued, a faint smirk curving his lips. "No matter what you call yourself."
His gaze hardened, cold and full of superiority. "Before me, all beings are equal. If you stand here… it means you're ready to be destroyed."
Gabriel said nothing.
He raised his right hand, palm facing Dante directly.
[- Dark Matter Magic: Haniel Umgestaltung des Leerenlichts -]
{Translate: Dark Matter Magic: Haniel Void Light Transformation.}
In an instant, high above them—ten of the eighty horned beetles, each the size of a tank, pale white and entirely composed of Dark Matter Magic—were reconstructed with only the slightest focus of his mind.
In less than half a second, the ten beetles collapsed, their bodies dissolving into pale mist.
The mist intertwined and reformed, consolidating their existence into sharp, sleek, and ruthless blades.
Thus, the gravitational field… was ignored.
Not resisted, but confused.
The spell's mechanism was forced to recognize the blades not as solid objects, but as air—something to be passed through, inhaled, and forgotten.
"What…!?" Dante exclaimed.
A deafening impact followed. Snow beneath his feet exploded into the air, swirling wildly, while several of the flying blades pierced through Dante's body—he had no time to dodge.
Silence fell for a moment.
The drifting snow gradually settled, touching the cracked ground once more.
Then—
Dante grinned.
"Hahaha… fascinating!!!"
He straightened his posture, ignoring the blades that had pierced his flesh. His gaze sharpened, brimming with a near-mad intensity.
"Long time…" he continued, chuckling lowly, "I haven't felt something like this in ages."
He glanced at the blades still embedded in his body.
"Your power… it feels… truly unique," he said, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Not magic. Not the laws of this world… but something that sets its own rules."
Dante's irises slowly glowed red.
One by one, the blades shattered—cracking, breaking apart, and falling from his body as fragments of collapsing existence. Gabriel watched silently, a faint smile tugging at his lips.