*Crunch…*
With a casual step, Kroso crushed a magic-steel tendril—shattered by the earlier blast—underfoot. He stumbled slightly as he reached the cliff’s edge.
To be precise, this wasn’t a cliff in the usual sense. Moments ago, this spot had been a lush forest teeming with life.
Now, the earth for over ten kilometers in every direction had collapsed into a crater of equal depth. One glance downward sent a chill through the soul—a void of absolute, swallowing darkness.
Even for him, the Holy Cross Judgment was a first. He’d imagined this fusion of countless forbidden spells to be devastating… but witnessing its true power left his heart pounding long after.
*Would the Abyss Demon Lord perish beneath it?*
To guarantee total surprise, his plan had exploited the Demon Lord’s lust for the Archangel. Only when she was truly in danger did he swap her position with the Holy Cross Judgment.
The Demon Lord should’ve taken the blast point-blank, utterly unprepared. Kroso knew *he* couldn’t have survived it—but did the Demon Lord possess some hidden escape?
*Whoosh…*
Without hesitation, Kroso slid down the near-vertical slope. His body was long past its limit, held up only by the last dregs of magic. Yet the Demon Lord’s fate mattered too much. After securing the Archangel, he’d rushed back—ready to finish the job.
He descended swiftly. His expression tightened as darkness closed in. The moment total blackness enveloped him, a deep crimson glow flickered in his eyes.
In this world, any race with sufficient magical affinity gained night vision—though manifestations varied. For a human to emit crimson light? Rare. Even Kroso felt puzzled.
*Whoosh!*
His feet met empty air. Spotting the crater’s base, he leaped—and landed firmly on frost-covered ground.
Ahead lay the Demon Lord’s massive form… though most was severed magic-steel tendrils. The true body wasn’t fearsome at all, standing utterly motionless, radiating zero threat.
Kroso frowned slightly. Never lowering his guard, he activated his Innate Domain and clutched a teleportation rune.
One jump left in his magic. He prayed he wouldn’t need it—if he did, the Demon Lord wasn’t just alive… he was unharmed.
*Crunch… crunch…*
Step by cautious step, Kroso advanced. Each footfall shattered the silver frost with crisp, brittle sounds.
Close now. Still no movement from the motionless figure. Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
Charcoal.
No words could capture it. Frozen mid-roar, every inch—from skeletal dragon scales to bone—turned pitch black like burnt cinder… yet utterly cold.
Kroso raised an eyebrow. A lazy wave of his hand sent a breeze drifting over the lifeless form.
*Crackle.*
It collapsed instantly—reduced to dust like withered autumn leaves.
*Crack!*
As the body fell, the charred magic-steel tongue-drill shattered like dropped porcelain.
…
Kroso stared, stunned.
*Dead? Or… something else?*
He knew high-tier demons could shed their shells to escape death—but *this*? Unheard of. He couldn’t confirm its fate.
Still… even if it escaped, it would be reborn stripped of all power. Regaining Demon Lord status would take centuries. More than enough time for Kroso to hunt its juvenile form endlessly.
Relief washed over him. This trip hadn’t been wasted.
*Snap!*
Feeling lighter, he snapped his fingers without sparing magic. The world blurred—then solidified.
He stood again in the cave where Sylvia rested.
Over a thousand kilometers from ground zero, yet he’d still woven a high-tier barrier around the entrance.
Sylvia slept soundly, breath steady. Only a faint, unusual flush colored her cheeks.
Kroso knew no medicine. He chose to wait—surely her Body of Holy Spirit could endure it.
Finally assured, he collapsed fully clothed onto the cold stone.
Magic drained. Body broken. Pain flared everywhere the moment tension left him. Only sheer will kept him from crying out.
Honestly? He didn’t even have the strength to let out a loud fart.
*So tired… Just want to sleep.*
Danger still lingered—but his eyelids were leaden.
Consciousness faded fast…
——————
*Slurp… slurp…*
He’d slept deeply. But through the haze, a warm, slick sensation brushed his chest—like a tiny, wet tongue licking clumsily, weakly.
*A dream?*
*Slurp… slurp…*
Heat prickled his skin, disrupting recovery. Groaning inwardly, he forced his eyes open.
*What’s licking me? An animal? How’d it bypass the barrier?*
Bewildered, he looked down—and froze.
A cascade of pure white hair swayed over his chest. And the one beneath it…
"Archangel…?"
Kroso’s mind went blank.
There she was: a snow-haired girl kneeling over him like a kitten, palms braced on the ground.
"Mew? Who are you?" she cooed, lifting her face with a playful smile. Pink, heart-shaped pupils sparkled with innocent curiosity. "Staring so intently… were you thinking about *me*?"
