Black hair, black eyes—ink pooled under her lashes.

Clothes, hair, eyes, all pitch black; the girl tore into burgers and fries like a small furnace hungering for fuel.

She sat on the cliff’s lip, watching low-tier Demonfolk butcher each other without end, beneath a scarlet sky like a fresh wound.

She didn’t savor; she devoured, like rain pelting a dry field.

Quantity over quality—she waged a siege with her stomach.

Baskets of snacks flanked her like wicker ramparts. She fist-grabbed fries and crammed them in, stuffing to bursting. Crumbs clung to her cheeks. Litter snowed the ground.

The Demonfolk below didn’t dare steal, didn’t dare even glance up, like shadows skirting a bonfire.

They weren’t afraid of the girl. They feared the man behind her.

Crunch, crunch. “Gotta say, Dad’s snack inventions taste great! Want some, my lord?”

“I’ll pass. I’m past the age where punchy snacks thrill me.”

Saster waved it off, found a clean bit of stone, and sat near her, like a weary raven edging closer.

He watched her scatterbrained antics and shook his head, a sigh trapped behind his teeth.

The weight came first, then his words. “Be careful.”

“Relax, my lord. I’m the type who never gains weight—or maybe I was designed that way.”

“That’s not it. I mean your father. Be careful of him.”

“Oh, that thing—making me the safety mechanism?”

She compared herself to a tool and stayed bright-eyed, as if jokes could hold back night.

With three saucy roast pork wraps bulging her cheeks, she mumbled, “I know, I know. You want me to restrain Dad. If he goes berserk, I swallow him and seal him.”

“It’s not that simple. The Final Calamity of the Ocean of Darkness isn’t something a seal can tame.”

“So I stall for time. Give the Divine Beings time to aid the world and resettle mortals, right?”

Saster turned away, as if her face were noon-sun he couldn’t look into.

“Is that what Esdrolfa told you?”

“Yep.”

“Then I’ll say it. I’ll tell you all.” He rubbed his hands, anxious. He glanced back. She lifted a basin of popcorn chicken and poured it like water into her mouth. Her carelessness eased his guilt like wind thinning fog. “About ten years. For that decade, you can seal Andor when he becomes the Endless Demon King. Ten years later, he breaks free.”

“Oh. Will I die?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh. Got it.”

She licked her lips, eyes sliding to a pitcher of cola like a moth to lantern glass.

“So I gotta eat more now—get full, then go down with Dad.”

“Andor won’t die… Listen. I want to explain you. Even as a safety device, you’re my child, heir to this blood and soul.”

“Whatever. I just need to know what to do.”

A glint crossed her eyes, a twist of cleverness like light on a crooked blade.

The look felt like her father’s. Andor, Saster thought.

“Know it or not, I’ve got no better choice. Your plan is the optimal path that buys me ten years. No grand ideals. I follow efficiency. I follow your plan.”

She tore open chips and drooled at the golden rounds like a sun in her palm.

“The optimal solution, huh… That sounds like Andor.”

“Like Dad? His blood runs in me. Oh, my lord, just say what you want. I’m not that interested, but if it makes you happy, talk.”

“Then I’ll talk.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.”

She scooped a mound of sunflower seeds, decided one-by-one was too slow, and poured them all in. Her cheeks puffed like a squirrel’s, then worked like a mill.

“I used Andor’s blood, a vessel of the Ocean of Darkness, and the souls of several ancient Demon Kings to make you. Without Andor, you’d be the new Final Calamity.”

She put on a fake gasp. “Wow, I’m amazing.”

“So after you swallow Andor, even if the Ocean of Darkness rages, you’ll still be regarded as the Final Calamity, but you’ll keep reason. It’s a con against the Ocean.”

“If I’m that strong, why can’t I crush the Ocean completely?”

“You keep your reason because of a golden soul, unstained by dark. But until we grasp what ‘endless’ means, the Final Calamity returns. It will end the world with Andor—Andreas’s image. That’s written history. Even the Creator won’t escape.”

“Oh, I won’t get it anyway. I’ll just eat and wait to die… ow.”

Saster flicked her forehead. Andor liked to discipline Stini and Ferrel that way. He’d learned it from Saster.

“Don’t talk so bleak. Where’s your golden soul?”

“But I still carry a Demon King’s blood. As agreed, I’ll swallow my berserk dad, buy ten more years for the world, and dump the light-versus-dark mess on the next age. Yet we never fix the root—the Ocean birthing the Final Calamity. The heirs might not be heroes. They might fail.”

Her gaze flashed cold, like a Demon Blade in its sheath waiting to drink.

“My lord, I’m not stupid. I just don’t have a choice. If the one arranging history wants to talk to me a bit more, I’m fine with that. Like, beyond what you let me see, is there another plan?”

“…What do you mean?”

“Beyond me as the safety device, how do you make sure that after we die, humans won’t blow themselves up and let the Final Calamity erase the world? Like a relay mechanism? Maybe that’s bigwig business. You don’t need to tell a safety device.”

Saster gave his trademark bitter smile, the kind worn thin by years. She’d never seen him laugh free.

“Tricky question. But I said I’d answer everything about you…”

“It’s fine. I’m not that curious. Too many answers give small fry like me stomach cramps. I’m hungry all the time already—murder on the gut.”

Saster’s face darkened like clouded steel. Her wavelength never matched his. Her jumpy, breezy mind clashed with his long years of burden and sacrifice.

She threw her arms wide and called out to the air, showy as a street performer. She wanted to be a stand-up comic. She didn’t even know what stand-up was—she’d heard it when Dad rambled. She figured it had to be fun.

Jester and hero—different vows, different loves.

“I’ll explain a bit. The Endless Demon King is frenzy, without reason. Yet Andor’s stature then soared beyond compare. If you haven’t seen it, you can’t grasp a Divine Being’s view.”

“Don’t want to. Knowing that won’t make ribs taste better.”

She burped, tossed the empty popcorn bucket off the cliff like a falling moon, and lifted a pot of stewed ribs. Steam curled up. She licked her lips.

Talking to the wrong fit drained him like wind stripping leaves. Saster’s voice went thin.

“Listen, and let me finish. After Andor is… by Ferrel—I mean after this age ends—Andor regains reason. He forgets most transcendent sights and keeps only what his stature can hold.”

“Oh, beautifully said. Want gummy bears, my lord?”

Chocolate smeared her mouth. Then she shoved in red and green gummies. Looking at her killed appetite like ash on the tongue.

Saster felt nauseous. The fighter who’d survived decades in the wild by blade and grit now felt sick just watching her eat.

“So, early on, there are many ways to bind the Endless Demon King. But we need you, for a reason.”

“Oh? It has to be me?” She paused mid–chicken leg, eyes bright as flint.

“Yes. For ten years, you can fool the Ocean of Darkness and stand in Andor’s place. Except for one person we can’t touch, you’re best suited to tamper with him.”

“His stature’s so high. Will tampering even work?”

“We can’t harm his mind or limit his power. At most, we give him a push. When he forgets the transcendent, he’ll also forget a few… other things.”

“Like what?” She didn’t notice how she’d turned into a poised hunter.

“A former life. I can’t say more.”

“Ha, a former life? The gods forge souls for the living. The dead sleep in the death-realm. Who gets a second life with a ‘before’?”

She laughed, biting through nuts like biting through fate.

“Happy now, my lord? Does that satisfy your philosophy of ‘equivalence’?”

“I won’t deny it. There’s self-satisfaction in it.”

Their talk paused. On the cliff, only the wind and crunch, crunch remained.

The Demonfolk below scattered. The name of the ‘Brutality’ Demon King weighed like a blade. No one wanted a senseless death, so they fled.

The land was ugly, little to admire. The only pretty thing, the sky, stayed permanently scarlet. Too much crimson dulled the eye.

“My lord, what if I take this intel and defect to Dad?”

“Hmm… I think you’re not worth much to him. So, reason or not, Andor would likely cut off your head to wreck our plan.”

“Oh. Then I won’t defect.”

Another rough stretch of silence.

Casually, gnawing a beast’s thigh bone, she mumbled through grease, “By the way, why do I even call him Dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why join your family line? I’m a safety device with a fabricated soul. What right do I have to call the Endless Demon King my dad?”

“Because you carry Andor’s blood. This is to let you feel—”

He stopped abruptly, silence dropping like a stone.

“Why’d you stop, my lord?”

“I don’t like lying. No matter how often I’m forced to.”

“Sure, sure, big hero. Then this—how much can kinship restrain Dad from killing me?”

“You guessed it… We’ll try, but don’t expect the ending.”

“Ah, figures.” She slapped her head. Grease streaked her lovely black hair like ink on silk. “Dad’s always been cold-blooded.”

“Yeah. He’s a classic Demonfolk—ruthless, cold. He didn’t even flinch when his mother died.”

“Whatever. I’m used to calling him that. Maybe it helps. Maybe he’s the kind who’d get obsessed with a cute daughter. Then I’d be safe… oh, right, Dad doesn’t cling to his bedmates either.”

She sighed and ate faster, like rain before a storm.

“My future’s bleak. Eat while I can.”

Watching her shovel food in out of spite, Saster remembered something, a spark under ash.

“By the way, have you decided on a name?”

“Oh heavens, making a life not even two years old choose something so heavy…”

She saw his patience fray, gulped the last of her juice, and held out both hands as if offering the sky.

“Qing An.”

“That’s your chosen name?”

“Mm. I may not live long. But I still want to be light and at peace.”

"Dear His Majesty, the 'Brutal' Demon King—please don’t let Dad grab me and interrogate me the moment we meet, like shackles snapping at the door."

She stood, palms pressed like lotus petals, and bowed like a reed in wind.

Food scraps speckled her mouth and cheeks like messy constellations; at least her sincerity burned steady.

Saster, oldest of heroes, oldest of Demon Kings, could only let out a wry smile like autumn sun on worn stone.