Edlyn studied the man, her brows tightening like drawn bows. “Huh? And you are?”

“…His descendant?” He frowned too, thought snagging like a hook in deep water.

He waved her on, a lazy flick like shooing smoke. “Come.”

Edlyn watched him swagger toward the cave mouth, his gait odd as a crab scuttling along a reef.

Curiosity pricked like a thorn in her palm.

He set both forearms along the rim of the fissure, calm as laying a beam across a river.

A colossal bronze gate rose with a groan and sealed the crack, like a mountain slab dropping over a wound in the earth.

He came to her side and bowed, a smile sharp as a crescent blade. “Then, miss, come. Open it yourself.”

“Huh? Open it myself? What is this? I’m completely lost here. You’re not gonna explain?”

“The Abyss told you nothing?” His brows knotted like tangled roots. “That makes things tricky.”

Edlyn’s thoughts stalled, a blank sheet hit by rain.

She’d half hoped he was some uncle from the family tree; instead he reeked of punch-me energy, like a drum begging for a strike.

“Ah? That face says it all.” He shrugged, casual as drifting ash. “Sorry. When I was born, the Abyss gifted me with Mockery.”

Edlyn’s silence thudded like a stone in a well.

“So yeah, your fists are probably itching for my face.” He sighed, wind slipping past dry reeds.

“Hey, if you don’t explain, I’m actually gonna deck you.” Edlyn raised her pale fist, a snowball more than a hammer.

“Sigh. Impatient type. Figures.” He let the breath go, mist on a cold morning.

Damn it, she swore inwardly, heat rising like steam off a forge.

“This is the source of the Demon Race,” he said, voice low as a drum under fog. “Or call it the homeland of the Abyss. Also the foulest place in the world.”

“?” Edlyn stared, mind floating like a leaf on a black pond.

“Your Demon Race draws power from here. This place can face the Celestial Gods’ Holy Sanctuary head-on. Every cultivator, mortal, pilgrim, divine envoy—cannot, or rather, dares not, set foot in it.” His smile vanished, a lamp snuffed in a storm.

His paper-white face and that off-kilter expression chilled like frost at midnight.

“No one knows how many millennia it’s stood here, a work wrought by the Abyss.” He paused, the air holding its breath.

“This is the Inferno.”

“…In…ferno?” Edlyn stumbled back two steps, disbelief cracking like ice underfoot.

“You who inherited the Abyss’s power and breath—if the Abyss sent you now, it must be the final hour.” His smile returned, but it gleamed like a knife’s edge.

“The final hour???”

“The last battle with the Celestial Realm’s Holy Sanctuary.” His gaze weighed her like a butcher weighing meat. “It sent you back so we can forge you hard.”

“Tsk, so weak. You haven’t even gathered your Divinity.”

“Hey! Do you even know how hard I’ve worked? If a Celestial God hadn’t hired a Hero, I’d have unified the world already!”

“Tsk. Dream on. Back then, the Abyss led the charge and still couldn’t bring down that one in the Celestial Realm. And you?” He shook his head, a willow in wind.

“Damn it, you’re not annoying because of some Mockery passive. You’re genuinely begging for a beating.” Edlyn roared and swung for his face.

He slipped past with absurd speed, a shadow sliding along a blade. “Listen, don’t let the Mockery fool you. I’m no tank. I’m an agility-type Fiend.”

“Damn!” Edlyn’s temper flared, sparks from flint.

“All right, all right. If it’s the last hour, we can’t waste time.” He ghosted aside from her energy blast, calm as moonlight on water. “When the war’s done, hit me all you like. For now, we head into the Inferno and raise your power.”

Edlyn drank a breath, cold as iron, shot him a venomous glare, then stepped toward the bronze gate.

She set both hands to the metal, palms spreading like leaves, and pushed inward.

The gate didn’t budge, a mountain pretending to nap.

Edlyn blinked, shot him a glance. He wore no expression, a mask in a shrine.

She frowned and pushed again, force gathering like a tide.

Still no response, the sea ignoring the pebble.

She pushed a third time, stubborn as a mule.

Nothing.

He finally laughed, bright and cruel as shattered bells. “Hahahaha, idiot, it’s a pull door. Hahahaha.”

Without looking back, Edlyn snapped off a fiendish blast, a thunderclap in a narrow gorge.

He didn’t see it coming and took it full on.

His form buckled and began to shift, ripples racing like heat over sand.

At last he became a long-haired woman about twenty-five or six, silver hair like Edlyn’s, bright as moonlit frost.

Edlyn stared. “You!”

“Ah? Eh? Oh dear…” The woman pouted, lips like a sulking cherry.

“Tsk, boring. Only half an hour? Not good. Next time I’ll get a few more from Ryan.” She sighed, a petal falling.

“Descendant of the Abyss, what are you doing? Hurry up. Hmm? Or are you curious?” Her eyes sparkled like stars in a black well, smile sly as a fox.

“Tsk. None of your business. Get lost.” Edlyn’s voice was a blade with its edge wrapped.

“Uh… heh heh.” The woman beamed, a cat in sun.

Edlyn reached out again, pulled, and the door still refused, heavy as fate.

She shot the woman a glare. The woman coughed lightly. “Ahem, you’re rushing it~”

“Hell, who’s rushing, you or me?” Edlyn snapped, temper hissing like oil on fire.

“You, of course. You’re dying to run back to your lover~” The woman covered her mouth, laughter tinkling like silver bells.

Edlyn froze, breath caught like a fish in a net.

“Well, here’s the thing. Opening it means you’ve truly reclaimed the Demon Race’s supreme throne. Say your coronation line.” Her smile was lantern-warm, yet edged.

Edlyn had no choice but to play along.

A hundred years ago, the door she opened in the Abyss—was it the same song with a different flute?

Edlyn sighed, wind through old pines.

“I am Pan—no… Edlyn. Edlyn Bruyar. At this moment, I ascend over the Demon Race and command heaven and earth. I hereby…”