The city at night was more alive than ever—neon lights flashing, music thumping, a glow brighter and wilder than the day.
In a dimly lit alleyway, space suddenly rippled, and a hairline crack opened in the air. From within, a single drop of golden blood slipped out before the crack vanished without a trace.
A car sped past the street. A slender hand rested lazily on the open window, the gesture full of effortless grace. Judging by the delicate wrist and smooth skin, the hand clearly belonged to a woman.
The drop of golden blood descended—its trajectory shifting mid-air as if guided by will—then softly merged into the ring on her finger.
"Ah—!"
The woman gave a startled yelp and drew her hand back.
"What was that? A raindrop? A bug?"
She could've sworn something tiny had touched her arm, but when she checked, there was nothing unusual. Shrugging it off, she returned her focus to the road. Maybe she was just imagining things.
A few minutes later, the car pulled into a high-end residential complex.
The car door opened. Long, shapely legs stepped out first, followed by a woman in an elegant business suit. She walked toward the elevator with a tired sigh.
Once home, she tossed her bag onto the couch, peeled off her office attire, piece by piece—skirt, shoes, bra—all falling carelessly aside. Even the ring was placed on a nearby table.
Soon, the sound of running water echoed through the bathroom—soft, rhythmic, cleansing.
But then—
The ring lying quietly on the table suddenly pulsed with a faint glow. A wisp of pale golden smoke seeped out, twisting and flickering until it coalesced into a barely perceptible phantom.
It was Balder.
He stood silently, observing everything around him without releasing even a trace of divine pressure.
In this world—one where even God existed—caution was survival.
Balder hadn't come in person. Only a drop of blood and a sliver of consciousness had crossed the veil. It was the safest way—barely enough to be noticed by the world's laws or its deity.
This world was called "I, Frankenstein"—or rather, the world of the Demon Slayer Warrior.
Balder quietly scanned the environment.
"The world's barrier… slightly stronger than the Terminator universe," he murmured, his tone pleased.
That was a good sign.
Despite possessing a defined supernatural system, its world-barrier wasn't that powerful—meaning its "extraordinary beings" weren't all that dangerous.
He took another deep breath.
"The ambient energy density is low… definitely a low-magic world."
No wonder the so-called "demons" and "Gargoyles" here fought mostly in close combat. Barely any ranged supernatural abilities.
That was the hallmark of a low-magic realm—supernatural beings relying almost entirely on physical power rather than magic or divine might.
Balder smiled faintly. "Good news indeed."
A "God" in a low-magic world would naturally have a higher metaphysical rank than the one he'd fought before. But that wasn't necessarily bad.
After all, having a higher "divine rank" didn't mean being better at fighting.
Once a world gained its own supernatural structure, even a God with pseudo-omniscience and omnipotence would be less obsessed with analyzing every living organism. That was something only a God in a mundane world would do to fill the void.
This world's deity would likely focus more on the supernatural order—perhaps less omnipresent, but still dangerously perceptive.
Still, Balder knew the risk:
"If He notices me, His parsing speed will be even faster than the last one's…"
He didn't know exactly how long it took such a being to fully analyze him—but he knew the only safe tactic: strike first, strike fast, kill in one blow.
At that moment, the sound of water in the shower stopped.
Balder's phantom immediately faded into mist and vanished into the ring once more.
Moments later, a mature woman stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped loosely in a towel. The thick fabric did little to conceal her curves—the towel barely clung to her chest, leaving her long legs and soft hips exposed.
She hummed lightly as she dried her hair, entirely unaware of the divine presence in her home.
Time passed. Hours later, yawning, she slipped into bed, tablet in hand.
Then—
The ring pulsed again.
A faint wisp of mist rose from it, slipping soundlessly through the air.
A nearly invisible spectral hand brushed her forehead—and the woman instantly fell into a deep sleep.
Balder's ethereal form appeared once more, his hand hovering above her head. Threads of golden light streamed from her temple as he read her memories.
After a moment, his expression changed.
"Oh?" he muttered in surprise. "Well now… that's quite the stroke of luck."
This woman—he finally realized—was Naberius' lead scientist, Dr. Terra Wade, one of the key human figures in I, Frankenstein.
A top-tier biologist.
A crucial player in the resurrection experiments that powered the demon army.
A faint grin curved Balder's lips.
"So, you're her, huh?"
He chuckled softly. "I had three contingency plans for this world. But since I ran into you first… maybe it's time to test the boldest one."
After all—
A demon prince like Naberius wasn't a bad chess piece to play with.
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