A few days before his return to the mortal world, Arayn stood atop a hill in the underworld. He gripped his sword, its edge humming with red mana, and began to move.

  Each swing cut through the air, leaving behind trails of crimson light. With one final motion, he raised the blade high and cleaved downward. The red mana burst from the blade and carved a wide arc into the sky, its glow lingering like a scar across the horizon.

  Perched on a massive boulder nearby, Tyras watched silently. When the arc faded, he clapped.

  “Your progress is impressive,” he said. “Faster than I expected. Your eyes are truly remarkable.”

  Arayn didn’t smile. He didn’t even glance at his master. He simply gave a curt nod and lowered his sword.

  Tyras studied him for a moment longer, then spoke again, this time softer. “That’s enough for now. Rest a moment. I need to speak with you.”

  Arayn walked over, his boots crunching against the burnt gravel. He sat cross-legged before the boulder, wiped sweat from his brow, and looked up.

  “What is it, Master?” he asked.

  Tyras leaned forward on the boulder, his elbows resting on his knees. “Your Conquest form,” he said. “That was my gift to you.”

  Arayn stared ahead, silent for a beat, then nodded. “I figured as much.”

  Tyras chuckled. “Sharp as ever.” He folded his arms again. “Then I suppose you also know the old legend. The first demon. The four horsemen of the apocalypse.”

  “I know it,” Arayn said. “The first demon rose from the abyss. Four horsemen followed—Conquest, War, Famine, and Death. Together, they tried to destroy the world, but they failed. The first demon died. The horsemen vanished.”

  Tyras gave a slow smile. “That legend isn't entirely true.” He raised his hand and tapped his chest. “I’m the first demon. I was on the brink of death, but I escaped and hid.”

  Arayn blinked once. “Okay.”

  A drop of sweat rolled down Tyras’s temple. He gave a short laugh. “Truthfully, I expected more of a reaction.”

  “I don’t judge people by their past,” Arayn said. “What matters to me is your goal—now and going forward.”

  The smile on Tyras’s face lingered, but his tone turned colder. “My origin is Apocalypse. That hasn’t changed. I still intend to destroy the three realms. And for that… I need the existence of four horsemen.”

  He stood from the boulder and looked down at Arayn. “You are my Horseman of Conquest. Each horseman I bind to my power gives me twenty-five percent exp bonus and power boost. I don’t need your loyalty. Just your existence.”

  Arayn looked up at him, eyes unwavering. “That's not entirely true, isn't it? You still need your horsemen to do something. I will help."

  Tyras paused. “Are you sure? I’m going to tear everything down. Mortal realm. Spirit realm. Heaven. All of it.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Arayn replied. “It’s your origin. You helped me. So I’ll help you. Choosing a mortal like me to be a horseman means you need something only people like us can do, right?”

  Tyras looked at him, searching his face for something he couldn’t quite name. “You’re strange,” he said at last. “But I’m grateful. Still… I don’t understand you. I thought I figured you out, but I was wrong."

  He narrowed his eyes. “What is your goal, Arayn? If you have one, I will help you achieve it before the doomsday.”

  Arayn didn’t hesitate. “I already told you. My goal is simple. I want to learn as many demonic abilities as I can.”

  Tyras raised an eyebrow. “After the doomsday, nothing will be left. Everything you have learned would be for nothing.”

  “Don’t misunderstand,” Arayn said. “I’ll help you bring ruin. I’ll help you destroy the world, but I don’t plan to die in the apocalypse.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Then, Tyras threw his head back and laughed. “You expect me to help someone escape the end of all things just because he’s my disciple?”

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  Arayn stood up, his red mana swirling faintly around his limbs. “I don’t need help. I’ll become strong enough to survive it. No—” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll surpass you, Master.”

  Tyras looked at him, then gave a soft smile. Not mocking. Not condescending. A caring smile. “Then I’ll cheer you on.”

  He turned his gaze to the blood-hued sky. “The apocalypse begins once all the horsemen reach level 80. Until then… we’ve got time.”

  Arayn crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? What’s your level, Master?”

  Tyras looked at Arayn, grin widening. “Beyond level 90.”

  ---

  Valak City, Netherworld.

  The VIP room was quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery and the occasional conversation leaking through the thick curtains. Arayn sat at the end of the long obsidian table, swirling the dark broth in his bowl with slow, thoughtful motions. Across from him, Locci devoured a towering plate of meat, tearing through each piece with unrestrained glee. Beside him, Husk shoveled mouthfuls of spiced rice into his mouth, chewing with wild energy, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  Qi sat more composed, her veil slightly lifted just enough to slip a spoon beneath. She slurped her soup carefully, then pulled back with a satisfied hum. “I have to admit, Netherworld cuisine holds its own against the mortal realm.”

  Tyras, seated comfortably, laughed. “The environment may be harsher down here, but the cities are just as civilized and safer. We have bakeries, bathhouses, law offices… and stores that sell souls by the pound. Demons lead lives not too different from humans. Many work regular jobs to earn wages. Then they buy what they want with it.”

  Qi blinked behind her veil. “I didn’t expect demons to live like that. It’s… surprisingly human.”

  Tyras nodded. “Civilization does that. Regardless of race, the moment we build something that needs maintenance, we need roles. Builders. Guards. Merchants. If we want those to stay, we need people to live decent lives. Doesn’t matter if you’re human, demon, or even celestials.”

  “Oh, right.” Qi looked down at her bowl, the steam curling beneath her veil. “Since I’m half demon now… do I need to eat souls to survive?”

  Tyras leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “That’s optional. Half demons are unique. You can live without souls, but if you absorb them, your power will grow. That’s the trade.”

  Qi's fingers curled lightly around her spoon. “Then I’ll do it, Master. I want to get stronger quickly.”

  Tyras grinned. “Then you’re in luck. With the patron gift I gave you, eating souls does more than just feed you. It accelerates your growth. You’ll outpace your peers in no time.” His eyes flicked toward Arayn with playful sharpness. “Even your senior brother.”

  Arayn didn’t react. He lifted his bowl and drank slowly, then set it down with a faint clink. “We’ll see.”

  It had been a full day since Arayn met the other Horsemen. They were strange companions, all wielding patron gifts unique to their purpose.

  A Patron could only bestow a single kind of gift to each sponsored soul. No overlap. No repetition. Each gift had to suit the chosen vessel’s path, and Tyras, the First Demon, had chosen carefully.

  Arayn’s own gift was simple in concept, yet terrifying in execution. When threatened by a being of higher rank—one powerful enough to crush him with ease—he could summon an avatar of Tyras himself. Not the true Tyras, of course, but a portion. A fragment of his master’s will, strong enough to intervene. It was a shield made of death itself.

  Qi’s gift worked differently. Her growth accelerated in proportion to the number of souls she consumed. Not just ordinary growth, but one that surpassed even full-blooded demons. She was a devourer in the making, a future terror with every life absorbed.

  Then there was Husk. His body had been made a vessel. Tyras gifted him an avatar suitable for possession, allowing him to descend to this world.

  Locci carried a more delicate gift. A seal. A subtle, silent magic that allowed him to descend to this world by resetting his level. Without it, his mere existence would break the planet.

  Locci clasped his hands together, fingers interlocked in prayer, and said with a bright smile, “Thanks for the food.”

  Qi tilted her head, veil swaying lightly as she watched him. “You seem like you haven’t eaten in a long time, Lord Snowstar. Isn’t there food outside of this world?”

  Locci chuckled. “Oh, I eat plenty. Every day, actually. I just enjoy eating.” He picked at the crumbs on his plate with delicate precision, then popped one into his mouth like it was a delicacy.

  Arayn, arms crossed and eyes slightly narrowed, muttered, “Is your origin devour?”

  Locci turned to him and gave a shrug. “No idea. There’s no such thing as ‘origin’ in my world. Origin seeking is a high-level concept. That’s why this world is interesting—you can actually uncover your origin from a low level. It’s rare.”

  Arayn nodded slowly. “So each world has its own system of magic. Interesting.”

  “Feel free to ask me anything,” Locci offered. “I heard your origin is ‘Learning,’ right? As a fellow colleague, I don’t mind feeding your curiosity.”

  Suddenly, Husk let out a loud burp that shook the floor. He grunted and dropped the enormous stone plate he'd been eating off of onto the ground with a thud. “Feel free to ask me anything too,” he said, licking his tusk. “I’m interested in your eye power.”

  Tyras chuckled, resting his arm on the table. “I’m glad all four of you are getting along.”

  Husk wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “More importantly, when are we going to destroy this world?”

  Tyras’s smile didn’t fade. “I’ve explained this to Arayn, but I’ll repeat it. When all four of you reach level 80, the apocalypse will begin.”

  Husk grunted. “I hope you won’t go back on your word.”

  “Of course not,” Tyras said smoothly. “I’ll give you the Core of the World once the planet is destroyed. And as for you, Locci, I’ll help you find Andulas. Even if he’s outside this world, I’ll assist you in subjugating him.”

  Locci nodded. “Then tell us. What do you need us to do in this lower world?”

  Tyras leaned forward slightly. “Right. There is something I need, something only expert-class beings can retrieve. Four of you, together, should be enough. And once I get it… the countdown truly begins.”