4th Day of the 1st Fire Cycle[1], 2000 g.c.
The soft ultraviolet glow of my [Midnight World] spilled into Grandma Fann's living room like moonlight ink, dancing along the old wooden floorboards and throwing ghostly shadows across the walls. As the portal behind me shrank into a glimmering indigo slit, I found myself standing in the middle of a moment that somehow felt both like a memory and a new beginning. The surreal high from my time with Omnia still tingled through my muscles and nerves. My body was loose, my mind clear. I felt taller than I'd ever felt—like gravity itself was giving me room to breathe.
I had it all now. Limitless magick. Strength enough to shatter stars. A face sculpted like prophecy got bored one day and decided to make art. Safe to say, life was no longer pushing me around. Unlike when I was Jean Vinson—broke, bullied, and begging fate for mercy—this life bowed to my ambition. My progression. And I wasn't about to let that momentum stop for anything or anyone.
As I turned around, the familiar sound of rustling cloth caught my ears. At the front door, framed in the warm hallway light, stood my two mothers—Vericka Mikazuki and Billie Holiday. They were dressed to step out, draped in contrasting elegance: Billie with her crimson and cream kimono and red eyeliner, and Vericka with her iconic ponytail now pulled high and tight, golden-blonde dreadlocks shimmering with an internal light like it had mana veins of its own.
They stopped when they saw me. That kind of stop where the breath catches before the smile blooms.
"Mom and Ma Dukes," I said, grinning. "You two are looking well."
Vericka tilted her head in that motherly way that always made me feel ten again. "Oh? Xiro, where did you come from?"
Billie's tone was smoother than cocoa butter on a Sunday morning. "Moonlight, we thought you left for the evening."
"Not yet," I chuckled. "I'm actually getting ready to leave now."
Before I could get another word out, Vericka closed the space between us and wrapped her arms around my waist. It took me a second to realize how different it felt. She used to tower over me, but now? Now her head nestled right against my chest like she'd been waiting for that embrace for years.
"I never got to truly thank you, my child," she said softly. "For saving me. For saving this town."
"Huh?" I blinked. "That's still on your mind?"
Her grip tightened a little. The tough-as-nails soldier who raised me was still in there, but she'd finally let her armor down. She didn't feel like a general. She felt like a mom who could finally rest.
Billie stepped up beside her, touching my arm gently. "Moonlight, you've truly grown into a man I'm proud to say I raised. We raised."
Vericka hesitated before letting go of me.
She looked up, her eyes glassy with pride. "You're stronger than I ever imagined. And yet, when I look into your silver eyes, I still see my little Pseudo-Oni. To think… In just fifteen years, you've become the new King of Velonica."
I scratched the back of my neck. "Well, technically, I didn't become Demon Lord until I was twenty. The Labyrinth added an extra five years."
Billie blinked. "Five? Oh my. That long?"
"Right," Vericka muttered, rubbing her temple. "Glynis and I were only stuck for two. Max."
"That Trial of the Thriller felt like forever," I said with a dry laugh. "Endless fighting. Five years straight of kicking zombie and spirit asses."
Both moms exchanged looks—puzzled, almost worried.
"Trial of the Thriller?" Vericka asked. "Baby… that's just an old legend. Supposed to be a cursed maze that drags M-Cees into the Underworld."
Billie nodded. "No one's returned from it alive. Not anyone we know, anyway."
"Your father's mother—Spooky Mayonaka—swore she survived it," Vericka added. "But even I couldn't believe that one entirely."
I shrugged. "Then all your students would beg to differ."
Billie's gaze lingered on me. Mom was always good at sensing mana, and right then, she must've felt something different.
"You carry the Pure Lord Seed now," she said. "As do the others. Which means there's no better time to give you this."
She placed her palm on her chest, and with a slow pull, like unzipping the seams of her soul, she opened a spiritual rift. Out floated a ruby-glowing artifact—no bigger than a pendant. A polished red Magic Gem set under the muzzle of a silver wolf head, pulsing with mana like it had a heartbeat.
"The Crown of the Demon Lord," Vericka said reverently.
I stared at it, my brow twitching. "Never seen a crown like this."
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s voice tickled my mind. "The Crown of the Demon Lord is an artificial Magic Gem, laced with your unique mana signature. It bears the same temporal stamp that was once on the artifact, Mikazuki/Luna."
"Wait, I made this too?"
"Yes, Master. Another Jinn situation. It appears you left it in the past to be found by yourself in the future."
"Only for me to leave it again sometime later. Lovely."
[Midnight Star: Belial] chimed in. "Y'all done being confusing and shit? Time travel makes my head hurt."
"Says the nigga who quickly used my Time powers to fight an Outer Goddess."
"Why you bringin' up old shit, boss?"
Vericka chuckled, pulling me back from my thoughts. "I always thought it looked better as a necklace than a crown piece."
Billie nodded. "It was passed to us by Mom, who received it from Grandpa Synga. Now, it's yours."
I reached for the trinket, letting my fingers close around the warm gem. It throbbed once, recognizing me, claiming me. Or maybe the other way around.
The weight of it hit me all at once—the history tucked into it. The expectations. The crown wasn't just claiming me. It was watching, waiting to see if I'd crack like the women before me did. Did I really have the juice to be a ruler? I honestly didn't know, but I was willing to try with all I had.
"Thank you, Moms," I said, genuinely. "I'll try not to let you down."
"You've just become the leader of the clan and the nation," Billie said, half-laughing. "But, no pressure."
"You'll be a fine ruler," Vericka said with a wink. "You wanted to be king, and that's already more than I did when I received it."
"Look at you with the jokes."
Billie leaned in, resting her head on Vericka's shoulder. "Even children can influence their parents."
I stood there, letting the moment soak in. Clan Leader. King. Demon Lord. The trifecta. Reflecting on it, I realize I was born into nobility. The Mikazuki Clan was a royal sociovore bloodline, even if we didn't live like most nobles.
While other houses and nations flaunted their wealth in gold, in Velonica, we flaunted our innovation. I built Talasi's aqueduct system, gave 'em clean water and power grids. That upset the other noble clans—how dare the common folk stop suffering? All but two of those clans left Talasi while we were trapped in the Labyrinth. Good riddance.
Now that I was back, the two who remained? I'd reward them. For their loyalty. For believing in my clan's lead, even when everything fell apart. I had a vision for Velonica, one I'd see through to the end. A free nation. A paradise. And now, I had the power to make it real.
But first?
I had a masquerade to crash.
And the Devil King of Velonica was finally ready to make his grand entrance.
With the Crown of the Demon Lord pinched between two fingers like it was nothing more than a souvenir, I suddenly felt it.
A jolt.
Not sharp like lightning. Not violent like a mana surge. It was so much deeper than that—like my Soul Core had been holding its breath, and the second that ruby gem touched me, it finally exhaled. Energy rippled through me in a spiral wave, starting at the point of contact and stretching through muscle, mind, and spirit. I staggered half a step, not from weakness, but from the rush of something... new. Yet somehow, it wasn't unfamiliar.
It was me.
Before I could fully examine the sensation, the Crown shimmered and dissolved into pure mana light, flowing into the small opening at the center of my chestplate. There was no resistance. No ceremony. It slid inside me like it had just returned home. Like it belonged there.
Which only raised more questions.
Another "Jinn Situation." Another artifact with my fingerprints all over it—except from the wrong end of the timeline. Same as the Guardian Armaments. All coming from Sonata Zero. I was starting to realize this was less a coincidence and more a breadcrumb trail.
At some point in the future, I'd clearly mastered the mechanics of time travel. Not just simply dipping into the stream… but completely manipulating it at whim.
Even before I had my current control, I'd experimented with it. Used Steez and his time-grain control ability like a remote drone. Created clones—Mana Proxies—then sent them into forbidden chronozones and timelines. Watched their memories play back like VHS tapes when they eventually blinked out of existence. And the Prime Realm System? Oh, it hated that. Always trying to reroute you, block you, delete you if you got too bold.
But I must've cracked the code. Somehow, somewhen.
I placed the trinket where my armor opened into a box shape—right between my collarbones—and just like that, it phased through the plate. There was no pain. Only warmth. As if it recognized me just as much as I did it.
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s voice slid in like a butler announcing tea.
"You have acquired [Magick Reconstruction]. This ability allows you to rewrite the very properties of any form of magick. It is the twin half of [Matter Manipulation]."
"Wait, how are they different?"
[Midnight Star: Belial], sounding way too proud of himself, chimed in. "[Magick Reconstruction] works on all forms of energy, while [Matter Manipulation] needs physical matter to be used properly."
"I get it. If [Matter Manipulation] lets me bend steel into yarn, then [Magick Reconstruction] lets me rewrite fire to freeze or lightning to sing lullabies. One shapes the body of an art—one rewrites the soul of it."
Tsukuyomi backed us both up, crisp and scholarly. "Correct, Master. With both, the creation of Biodolls is vastly easier to reproduce."
"Not bad," I said aloud, smirking. "Not bad at all."
Vericka stepped forward, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves like she was finally free of a lifelong burden. "We'll hold the actual ceremony next week. But regardless, you're the Demon Lord now."
"Guess I better start learning how to flirt with politicians."
Vericka rolled her eyes. "We were heading home. Are you about to be active tonight?"
"Seems like it. Gonna check on Alex and maybe deal out some revenge while I'm at it."
Billie's tone softened. "Be vigilant, Moonlight. We all still feel the loss of Shukaku. Alex might be tough on the outside, but he's been hurting deep. Just like Glynis."
I nodded slowly. "His death's not just a tragedy now. As Clan Leader, it's personal. I'll handle it—with the grace of a king, I promise."
I raised my left arm and flicked two fingers outward. An indigo ring of light unfurled within the doorway like a mirror made of oil and glass. It rippled as if breathing, revealing the cozy interior of my childhood home on the other side.
"Here," I said. "Shortcut."
Both of my mothers stepped through. Vericka turned and winked before vanishing, and Billie offered a serene smile as the portal closed behind them. The scents they left lingered: lemon skins and blue rose petals, interwoven with the fresh ozone of evaporating Spatial Mana.
I was alone again.
With the weight of a crown that didn't sit on my head but lived in my core.
"Now…" I said to myself, pacing slightly. "Before I leave… how do I wanna set the party up? Do I bring Steez along? Pretty sure Luda's busy right now. Hmmm…"
"Go solo," [Midnight Star: Belial] offered. "More fun that way."
I tapped my chin. "Hmm… I like your idea, Belli."
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] chimed in. "Master, I am prepped with the mana coordinates needed to relocate to Alexander. His mana signature is stable, though distressed."
"Say less, Tsuki." I grinned. "Let's try out that Spatial Mana Art I built off the mechanics of Mom's [Lover's Rock: By Your Side]."
I pulsed my [Dimensional Detection]—a low-frequency sonar ping made of mana. Like ripples in a still pond, it reached out across the metaphysical tapestry of Gaia until it found a thread—a golden strand tangled with red.
"Alex Mikazuki Zo, found you."
I locked the coordinates.
Fractures of space splintered beneath my feet. The air around me folded like origami made of stars, collapsing into a singularity.
I whispered the mana art's name like a signal.
"Smooth Operator."
And in the blink of a star's heartbeat—
I was gone.
Meanwhile, in Endora...
Roughly two miles outside the base of the towering Sycamore Tree, the air smelled faintly of fresh wood and mana-rich soil. Thin rays of the moonlight cut through the thick canopy, spotlighting the clearing where four figures landed soundlessly behind a grove of old cedar pines. There was no flourish. No declaration. Just quiet boots on moss. Alex and the trio—Nicole Kanra, Ameera Una, and Dream Flower—each settled into a crouch, eyes fixed on the ornate gates below.
From their perch, the Sycamore Tree rose like a natural skyscraper—its base wide enough to house an entire village, its bark etched with glowing runes of ancient origin, and the gates embedded at its root carved from interlocking amberwood and obsidian. A constant stream of carriages trailed toward the entrance. Sleek, enchanted, and well-guarded, each one bore the flags of noble houses, wealthy merchant clans, or minor royals. There were no guards checking anyone—just a flow of unbroken entry.
Nicole squinted, brushing her violet bangs from her face. "This is as far as I got during my scouting. With all that traffic, it looks like they're having some kind of event deeper within."
Dream folded her arms and pouted slightly, her voice tinged with sarcastic dread. "Great. Now it's going to be crowded and loud. So what's the plan?"
She canceled her doppelgänger illusion in a soft shimmer of gold petals, revealing her original form—curvy and charming, dark-haired with eyes like bright honey set in warm caramel skin. Her aura settled like perfume as the last of her illusion faded.
But if she was expecting a strategic answer, she was looking at the wrong Mikazuki.
Alex cracked his knuckles. His scarlet mana halo flared gently around his head rope, almost like a crown of war. "The plan is... I run in there, kick the door down, and start killing Imps and witches until I find Melech."
Ameera tilted her head, hiding a blush. "He's so dreamy. Like a fierce, powerful deity with a soft smile. To think he'd risk his life for my father..." Her thoughts were practically written on her face.
Dream, however, scowled. "That's a Dead Man's Plan. If they catch on that we're looking for the Wolvens, they'll start killing them just to spite us."
Ameera nodded. "While your fire is... compelling, I must agree. We should gather intel first."
Before Alex could argue, a voice interrupted from nowhere—and yet everywhere.
"I don't know who Foxy Orange is over there, but she's right, Fool."
All four snapped to attention.
Their eyes darted across the trees in search of the voice's origin like a horror movie cast realizing the killer's already in the room. Alex whipped his head right—and there I was.
Standing casual as hell.
Back straight, hands in pockets, and legs a shoulder's length apart, my waist-cape fluttered sideways in a breeze that only touched me. The soft shimmer of Spatial Mana curled around my form like a silent mist. The faint scent of ozone followed, mixed with something ancient and floral.
Alex gawked. "Xiro? When the hell did you get here?"
Dream's breath caught. "Did he just say the name Xiro?" Her eyes zeroed in on me like a sniper. The curved indigo horns. The silver eyes with those long, trailing sorrow-pins tattooed beneath them. The unnatural darkness in my aura.
She didn't need confirmation.
"Devil of Velonica..." she muttered. It wasn't a question.
And just like that, the mood shifted. The trio of women suddenly looked at me as if I were a walking plague with a sexy jawline. Fear. Awe. Calculation. All wrapped into one silent, uncomfortable pause.
I sighed and turned to Alex. "So, lil' broski, you gonna introduce me to your lady friends or nah?"
He studied me for a moment. The feeling of a new depth to endless darkness coated my aura.
Alex let out a short, awkward chuckle. "My nigga... when did you get here? Did you get stronger, again?"
Dream stepped forward like she was meeting a celebrity. "Excuse me, Lord Xiro. I'm Dream, leader of the Flower Clan. It's such an honor to finally meet one as... revered as you."
"Revered?" I blinked. "People know about me like that?"
Dream looked baffled. "You're joking, right? The Devil of Velonica's been the subject of tavern tales and campfire stories for years. Everyone knows about the little Oni boy out in the country. They say you haunt Janell Forest, casting wild spells and killing monsters for fun. Some even say you caused the Great Earthquake last year because the goblins in Goblin Cave were pissing you off."
I couldn't help but smirk. "They got the 'little' part wrong—but that's new to me. I'm just now stepping outta Talasi."
Ameera stepped up, her voice respectful. "Lord Xiro, I am Ameera of the Una Clan. Daughter of Captain Melech Una."
"Oh yeah. I remember him. He talked about you a lot." I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Funny, I thought your mana signature was familiar too."
Ameera smiled softly. "It's funny you say that because—"
But her words faded into the background.
Because I felt it.
Behind her... behind Dream Flower... there was another mana frequency. Subtle, woven into Nicole's presence like a poisoned thread in silk. My eyes sharpened. My pulse slowed. My instincts screamed. I didn't think. Just moved.
And I was instantly in front of her.
One moment, I was still. Next, I had my hand wrapped around Nicole's throat, lifting her effortlessly from the ground. Her feet dangled, her body stiff with shock. Her necklace clinked against itself, the Magic Gems embedded there pressing into her skin. Her breath caught. Her heart pounded like a war drum in my ears.
Her expression tried to remain unreadable—but those ruby-red eyes couldn't hide it.
Terror.
My mana signature alone was beginning to suffocate her, and the feeling of it crushing down on her was breaking her disguise.
The other three whipped around.
"Whoa, whoa!" Dream held up her hands. "Lord Xiro, okay? Just stop for a moment!"
"Please," Ameera added, voice trembling. "Don't kill her!"
"Xi!" Alex called out. "What the hell's goin' on?"
I didn't answer them. Not yet.
Instead, I activated [Heaven's Kaleidoscope].
The three-part gankyil spun within my pupils as my [Kaleidoscope Eyes] zeroed in on Nicole's core. Light fractured into spectrum layers—truth peeled itself back like flesh—and there it was.
Clear as day.
The Crest of Holy Madness.
"She's connected to the Opps."
Nicole's panic bled through her poker face like ink on wet paper. "Shit, shit, shit, shit! When did he move? Why can't I move? I trained for this—this wasn't in any file. He's not supposed to be that fast. This strong. This mana feels absolute. Shit, shit!"
Dream shook her head. "What do you mean? She's a Peacekeeping Hunter from the North!"
"She's also carrying the Crest of Holy Madness. I can see it in her Soul Core."
That quieted everybody.
Ameera looked shaken. Dream's jaw tensed. Even Alex took a step back, studying Nicole anew. Her whole body trembled in my grip, but I didn't lower her.
I leaned in until our eyes locked, my gankyil spinning slowly.
"You're going to tell the King of Velonica exactly who you really are."
In that moment, I realized something else.
Being a ruler wasn't gonna be soft work. It wasn't titles and crowns. It was knowing when to grip a throat until the truth leaked out with the sweat. I'd have to make decisions I didn't like. But... to keep it real?
A nigga didn't hate it.
In fact, I was starting to like the weight of it.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe Oni were only good for chaos.
While I was busy interrogating my second pale-skinned person for the day, just down the road, the Panty Raiders were getting into their usual devilry.
The midnight masquerade had officially begun.
Down on the ground floor within the mighty Sycamore Tree—a hollowed skyscraper of living bark and mana—luxury oozed from the gothic architecture like wine from a cracked bottle. The ballroom, carved into the very trunk of the tree, was a sprawling chamber of hedonistic elegance. The floors were sleek gray marble, streaked with veins of shimmering black jade. Magisteel columns spiraled upward in a ribbed arch, supporting the ceiling like bone. Runes etched into their faces pulsed with subtle magenta light, igniting clusters of mana crystals that hovered midair like lazy fireflies, casting sultry shadows across the room.
The atmosphere had the aroma of dark incense—resinous, spicy, and ancient—and red wine that clung to your nose like sweat clung to thighs. Beneath that? The undeniable musk of sex. Of body heat. Of mana-fueled lust in the air, thick enough to choke.
Masks were worn, but not for safety. Not even for mystery. Just enough disguise to blur the shame. A golden crescent over the nose, a half-veil of velvet. Thin, elegant things that gave everyone plausible deniability. You couldn't call out someone by name when all you saw was their silhouette tangled in someone else's aura.
A soft, sensual melody hummed through the air, played by four Zillan males. Lizard-like humanoids, sociovores by nature, known for their attunement to rhythmic magick. These four, however, weren't here by choice. Their scaled fingers trembled over stringed instruments, shoulders slumped with fatigue and mana depletion. Prisoners. Performance slaves. The glamour was hollow on their scales, but the music was still haunting, slithering between slow beats like foreplay in sound form.
Near them, several bikini-armored Imps swayed in drunken rhythm, breasts out, mana signatures blazing with delight and disorder. The ratio of women to men at the event? Eight to one. And all the women? Damn near naked. Just skin, sweat, and mana-drenched attitude walking around in silks, fangs, and fluorescent chains. It was a buffet of depravity. And everyone was feasting.
In the curving shadows of the ballroom's rear—lit only by a floating red lantern—two new pale-skinned figures were locked in a passionate display of public exhibition. They weren't masked. They didn't need masks. They only hid their faces in each other's mouths.
The male, tall and horned, was unmistakably Majin. His spiraled protrusions rose like blades of white ivory from his forehead. His female partner had no horns, but her tail did all the talking—thick, long, spade-tipped, and twitching like it was hunting. Both of them were barely clothed, glistening in sweat, their Magic Gems flashing with uncontrolled arousal.
"Come on, Headtrip, let's fuck right here. I need it, now."
He grinned lazily. "You sure like people watching, huh, Zawa? Fine. Suck my cock first and get it hard."
She recoiled with a dramatic gag. "Ewww. But it stinks. Did you even wash it before the party?"
Headtrip shrugged. "Why would I? It's just gonna get dirty again before the next mana-draining round."
Zawa frowned and leaned away. "That's disgusting. Never mind. I'm not in the mood anymore."
Headtrip blinked. "What? Come on, you serious?"
She scoffed. "Duh? Why would I put that filthy thing inside me?"
"You got me all riled up!" His tone tightened, cracking with ego.
"Go fuck one of those Imps. They love a dirty cock."
A chill swept between them, though it wasn't magic. Just ego death. Headtrip stood frozen, dick semi-hard, watching Zawa fold her arms and look away with unbothered irritation. Around them, giggles from other women echoed. It was the kind of laughter that could flay a man's pride.
Jaw clenched, teeth grinding, Headtrip stormed off muttering curses. His rage trailed behind him like an aura of spoiled mana.
Zawa sighed, dragging her fingers down her face with dramatic flair. "Foofy. I'm never gonna get an orgasm like this. Creator, why is it so hard to find good, clean cock and mana?"
"I know it, girl. The men here leave much to be desired."
The new voice came from a curvier figure in red lace and mana trails. Luvina. Regal, mature, and always walking like she owned any room her hips entered.
Zawa perked up. "Oh? Luvina! Did you hear all that? Don't mind me, just venting."
"I get it. I really don't see what you saw in that assassin. Especially if he doesn't wash his dick. That's just poor hygiene."
Zawa shrugged. "It's cause Majins usually have big cocks. And he's an Oni. They're dumb, so I thought I could train him. Couldn't pass that up."
"Well," Luvina said with a sly smile, "if Oni are your thing, you'll be happy to know I'm expecting one more Majin tonight."
Zawa's eyes lit up like spellfire. "Oh? Spill the tea. Who?"
"Thanks to Kiranna, we might be visited by the Devil of Velonica."
Zawa's tail twitched like it caught a spark. "No way! You serious?"
"I'd bet my Soul Core on it. Orion hasn't been wrong, yet."
Zawa beamed. "I hope he's cute. If he is, I'm definitely fucking him."
Luvina smirked. "Get in line."
"Awww, there's a line? Foofy."
"You should worry about Headtrip. I'm sure he wouldn't like you mating with another demon."
Zawa rolled her eyes. "Who cares what he likes? I think I'm over him."
Luvina let out a knowing laugh. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to alert the other covenant members. There's still a chance he kills us all."
"Hahaha. Who's fighting that monster? I've heard the stories. No, thank you."
"Seems you're smarter than Kiranna."
"She's an Imp. That's not exactly hard."
They giggled in wicked harmony, toasting invisible drinks with their shared amusement. And as their laughter echoed beneath the organ hum of the Zillan quartet, the sky outside turned.
The tri-moons of Gaia reached their zenith.
Midnight.
Above the tree, the sky bloomed with silver and violet light. Clouds dared not intrude on this view. All three moons—high, full, and bright—poured their blessing onto the Sycamore Tree like Outer Gods marking their calendar.
The masquerade had officially begun.
But what they didn't know—what none of them knew—was that just down the street, I was already moving, already on my way.
Plus, sex and violence?
They've always been neighbors. And the Devil King of Velonica just moved in.
[End of Chapter]
[1] April on Earth