“Heh. You’re not wrong. But beside my craft, this god’s craft stands like a mountain over pebbles.”

The middle-aged man took the two heart-red crystals and stepped to the shadowed figure, offering them with both hands like incense at an altar.

Shadows rose in unison like reeds in wind, opening a path to the colossal black chrysalis. A pitch-black tendril whooshed out, snatched the crystals, and dragged them into night.

The crystals fought like living hearts. Crimson lit from within like a red-hot brand, fire raced up the tendril like oil on water. The blaze faltered like a dying ember, and the glow vanished as the crystals were swallowed whole.

The chrysalis stood unharmed, like a cliff against surf.

The shadows knelt again, circling it tight like a wall of iron, sealing it like a fortress.

“Loyal to the bone,” the man murmured, a thin smile like a knife held flat, hinting and careless all at once.

Oz’s face darkened like storm clouds. He pretended not to hear, then spoke low, his tone heavy as wet earth.

“You’re done. Now the item.”

“Demonic Knights are so impatient, huh? Your item’s right here.” His eyes warmed with nostalgia like embers under ash; his fingers brushed his ring, and a small black coffin, layered in glowing sigils, settled into his palm like a black swan.

The moment it appeared, Oz’s gaze flared like steel in sunlight. He moved without thinking, one step like a pounce, reaching for the coffin.

The man smiled and slipped back like a shadow at noon, ignoring the fire in Oz’s eyes like coals about to burst. He teased the nerve to breaking, then tucked the coffin away like a pebble in a sleeve.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oz’s eyes went cold as winter water. A deep-red greatsword tore from the void and slammed down like thunder. Chains flooded from the guard like rivers from a gorge, and scarlet Arcane Power coiled around him like a roaring dragon.

No answer, and those chains and that Arcane Power would tear him apart like wolves on raw meat.

“Don’t rush. Before I hand it over, tell me why you need it. From what I know, only certain bloodlines can use it.”

He watched the chains and power like a man admiring weather, calm as a lake before dawn.

Irritation burned first in Oz like dust in the throat. His Arcane Power stirred like hornets in a jar. He forced it down like a lid on a pot, stepped in close, seized the man’s collar like a noose, and ground out each word.

“This—none—of—your—business!”

Bloodshot eyes made Oz look feral, like a tiger cornered. His scar-scored silver-white armor woke like a beast, fusing with the chains into a hanging maw, waiting to drop and feed.

“Oh, it’s my business. And you have to answer.” His sneer was a hook in flesh; he looked at Oz like a stray starving in the rain.

Pain flashed first in Oz, then a fist fell like a hammer. The punch buried the man in stone like a stake driven deep.

“Look at the chrysalis,” he rasped from the crater, laughter like gravel. “I just fed her a treat. If I offer her another treat now…”

He didn’t finish. The threat hung like smoke in a room.

Oz wanted the item. Answer, and you get it. Refuse, and the coffin becomes the chrysalis’s next course.

“You’re not afraid I kill you and take it?”

Rage swelled first in Oz like a tide under moonlight. His scarlet pupils locked on the man like nails. In his gaze, a shadow flickered like a hawk’s wing.

“Your biggest mistake is not killing me.” He threw the line back like a spear. They stood in a silence heavy as fog. Then Oz pulled the fist off his face and hauled him up like hauling net from sea.

“That’s better. You need me alive to mislead the Demon World’s royal hunters and to delay that terrifying Lord Senro. I only want a reason. That’s nothing for you. Why make it awkward?” He straightened his collar like a man resetting a mask, white robes tattered like banners after battle.

He looked at Oz like a victor on a hill, patient as granite.

“The reason… I need that coffin to save someone. That’s it.”

The thought cooled first in Oz, then his rasp steadied like a wind finding its groove. The man smiled, lips thin as paper.

“Save who? You’re a Demonic Knight. Treasures flock to you like birds to grain. Why slave for me?”

“Don’t push me. Don’t test my patience.”

A chain scraped his robe like a razor, punched into the floor like a spike, and scarlet Arcane Power bit the stone like dragon teeth.

Oz turned and barked at his own power like a handler at a wild hound, and the chain slid back past the man like a snake retreating into grass.

“If you won’t answer, I won’t force you…”

“I’m doing it to save the commander of the Cavalry Corps. Satisfied? Give me the item.”

The words burst fast, like arrows off the string. His Arcane Power surged past him like a beast freed of a muzzle, ready to maul the unruffled man.

The man only smiled. He brushed his ring, and the black coffin reappeared like an eclipse. The crimson beast hit the leash and froze a hair from his throat like a deer at the cliff’s edge. The smile widened, pleased like a fisherman with a fat catch.

“Well now. Seems those little fae weren’t lying. Our lofty Demonic Knight is a lover deep as winter wells. A high knight and a girl born low as dust…”

He talked without fear, the coffin held like a talisman, pinning Oz’s movement like frost on grass.

First came restraint in Oz, heavy as a millstone. He swallowed the flame, fingers clamping the chains like shackles, holding the crimson beast like a tiger on a short rope.

“Too bad… you’ll have to ask them for it!”

The coffin whipped toward the black chrysalis like a thrown spear. Its sigils shattered like glass, and pure death spilled out like night fog from a tomb.

“Bastard!”

Oz’s roar cracked the air like lightning. The crimson beast tore free like a stallion breaking reins but didn’t strike the man; it flew for the coffin like a hawk stooping.

Silver chains fired like ballista bolts, uncaring as winter, aiming to catch from below like a fisherman netting a falling carp.

A thin seam opened in the coffin, and death-breath spread like shadow on snow. The crimson beast reached with claws like iron, but the death ate it like acid, and the coffin dropped again like a stone.

The black chrysalis reached with a dark tendril like a hungry eel, eager as a gourmand sniffing truffles.

The guarding shadows moved like soldiers at a drumbeat. Their blades formed black and flat, chopping at the silver chains like axes on ropes. Oz refused to watch the coffin fall like a leaf into night; his silver armor flared deep red like a kiln, and heat hit the temple like desert wind.

They couldn’t halt the charging chain, so giants among the shadows threw their bodies like slabs of basalt. Their black Arcane Power hardened like plate, and the heat failed to budge them like waves on cliffs. Even so, the red-coated chain shoved through them like a spike, paused less than a heartbeat, then bored for the chrysalis like a tunneling worm.

“Don’t forget me.”

The man’s taunt cut Oz’s ear like a cold wind. Oz’s heart stumbled like a misstep on a stair, and rare fear flickered in his eyes like lightning behind clouds.

“Don’t!”

“Hybrid Spell—Elemental Bombardment!”

A scroll inscribed with a Titleholder spell tore open like bark under blade. His pitch-black, twisted Arcane Power drove a storm that bloomed beside Oz like a cyclone and slammed into him like a boulder from the sky.

Even Oz couldn’t take that cleanly, not after a grueling fight and with his Arcane Power blazing like a forge, struck blindside like prey hit from cover.

The ambush stole the moment like a thief in mist. Oz watched the coffin vanish into the black chrysalis like a coin swallowed by deep water.

“What a delicacy. I shall cherish your offering.” A noble, elegant female voice rang like silver bells in ice. Oz’s face went ash-gray like ash in rain, while the man shook with joy like a child clutching candy.

A black barrier spread from the chrysalis like ink in water. The scattered chains froze inside it like insects in amber.

The black chrysalis released darkness without end, like night swallowing a sun.