Several Minutes Earlier — Before the Explosion.
The forest had been alive with the chatter of birds—until suddenly, silence swallowed everything. Lyra stepped lightly between the dense trees, her boots barely crunching the layer of fallen leaves beneath her feet.
Three days, she reminded herself, sweeping her gaze across the shadows. Three days since Thornwick was attacked. Five families vanished. Two homes burned down to nothing but soot and ash.
Her hand brushed the hilt of the sword strapped to her back—an old habit, drilled into her since childhood by her father, Lord Kael Voltheim.
If the villagers were right… these cultists couldn't have gone far. They always linger close to their victims—they love watching the suffering they create.
She'd been tracking the demon-worshippers for days—tales of missing villagers, scorched homes, and forbidden rituals haunting the outskirts of Velthraine. As the daughter of Lord Voltheim, she had no right to ignore such cruelty.
Her hunt led her deep into this forest—far from any road, far from anyone brave enough to follow.
A gentle breeze brushed past, lifting strands of her dual-colored hair—midnight black streaked with soft pink. Tiny motes of lightning crackled around her ankles each time she touched the damp ground.
She was moving while training—refining her mastery of the Lightning Veil, the Voltheim family's signature movement art. It allowed her body to accelerate like a streak of lightning using raw electrical mana as propulsion.
Her figure vanished, reappearing between the trees—leaving behind faint pink trails that shimmered briefly before dissolving into the air.
Her breaths were steady. Her steps precise. No wasted movement.
Zzt… zzt…
Sparks danced across her fingertips—perfect control, no loud crackle, no violent burst. Just the hum of refined mana.
"Still too slow," she muttered, irritation curling faintly at the edges of her voice. "If I want to beat Theron at the tournament next month, I need to shave at least half a second."
Then—
"A–AaaAAAaaa!!!"
A scream tore through the air—sharp, high, filled with terror so raw it made Lyra's blood boil.
She froze. Her ears twitched, catching the direction instantly—southwest, two hundred meters.
That's a human scream, she thought, heart tightening. A scream from someone staring death in the eyes. A scream from someone staring death in the eyes.
ZRAAAKK!!
Her body burst into pink lightning, ripping through the forest with enough force to send leaves swirling violently behind her. Branches snapped in her wake, the wind howling from the pressure of her speed.
The world blurred—streaks of green and brown rushing past.
Please… don't let me be too late.
She shot into an open clearing.
What she saw froze her blood.
The clearing stretched wide, flattened by time and weather. Dry grass covered the earth, with several trees fallen to the right. Charred patches marked the ground—mana burn scars still steaming faintly.
Signs of a recent ritual.
At the center, a small family stood cornered.
A worn, dirt-stained father planted himself between danger and his family, arms outstretched, trembling. Blood trickled down his temple, but he refused to fall.
Behind him, a mother clutched two children— a girl around seven, eyes wide with horror, and a toddler boy bawling uncontrollably.
"Please… please…" the father pleaded, voice hoarse and broken.
"They're innocent… they don't even understand what's happening… take my life if you must… just let them go…"
No one answered him.
Ten masked men in black military-style uniforms surrounded the family. Their swords dripped with thick, swirling black miasma—alive, like serpents writhing around the blade.
Only one wasn't masked.
A man with a long scar across his face lounged on a boulder behind the others. His smile was wide—too wide—revealing sharp predatory fangs. His crimson eyes gleamed with sick delight.
"Innocent?" he chuckled, voice screeching like metal scraping metal.
"Hahaha… precisely because they're innocent… their blood is far more… valuable."
His tongue slid across his lips as he eyed the children.
Lyra's fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms.
I'm late, she seethed. If only I didn't waste time training midway…
But then she exhaled—slow, sharp.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not too late. They're still alive."
Lightning crackled at her feet.
First gentle.
Then wild.
The ground beneath her glowed pinkish violet. Electricity coiled around her like a celestial serpent. Leaves trembled. Pressure spiked as the cultists whipped their heads toward her.
"What—!?"
ZWUUSHH!!
Lyra lowered her stance.
Left foot forward. Right foot braced. Pedal low, poised. Left hand gripping the sheath. Right hand wrapped around the hilt—blade angled downward.
Time tightened around her.
Her breath stilled.
Her pupils shrank.
ZHARPP!!
She disappeared.
A streak of pink tore through the clearing.
SHHRRKKK—!!
Nine heads hit the ground almost simultaneously.
Blood burst out—only to evaporate instantly in the scorching heat of her lightning. Bodies collapsed with dull thuds, dust swirling in the aftermath.
Lyra stood where they had been, sword humming with residual sparks.
Behind her, the family stared—speechless, paralyzed between fear and awe.
"Go," she commanded, voice firm yet gentle.
"Follow the northern path. You'll meet a Voltheim patrol. Tell them Lyra Elvianne sent you."
"T-thank you… thank you…" the father stammered.
Lyra didn't respond.
Her gaze was fixed on the man atop the boulder—who now rose slowly, smile widening.
"Well, well…" he purred. "Lyra Elvianne Voltheim. The famous daughter of House Voltheim."
Black aura oozed from his body—thick, tar-like, suffocating.
Lyra moved first.
ZWUUSHH!!
Lightning split the haze as she lunged straight for him.
***
Huuuuh…
Lyra inhaled sharply.
Smoke hung in the clearing like a grey fog. Trees smoldered at their edges, branches scattered and burning faintly.
Varek stood before her—transformed. Dark aura swirled around him like sentient storm clouds.
The air grew heavier. Heat mingled with a supernatural pressure that cracked the earth beneath Lyra's boots.
He made a pact… with a high-tier demon, she thought grimly. Her lightning flickered along her blade, reacting to the tension.
Her grip tightened. She eyed the shallow wound she left on his shoulder—one that should've cleaved him in half, yet somehow only grazed him.
He blocked it… at the last moment.
The ground vibrated softly as pink lightning coursed over her sword, illuminating her focused expression. She shifted her stance—firm, balanced, unwavering.
"Before I end this," she said, her voice slicing through the smoke, "may I know your name? I want to remember who dared to taint my lands."
The man's grin sharpened, revealing more of his fangs. He twirled his darkened sword lazily.
"Ohh? How polite of you, Lady Voltheim," he mocked. "Very well. I am Varek—Varek the Fang. Remember the name… though I doubt you'll live long enough to repeat it."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Such confidence for someone who is about to become—"
WHUUSSHH!!
Varek vanished.
He reappeared above her—blade descending like a guillotine.
CLANG!!!
Lyra's sword shot up in time.The impact exploded with pink sparks, metal screaming against metal.The ground cratered beneath her feet.
"Khh—!" She winced as the force rattled her arms.
He's strong. Far beyond a normal human. Definitely the demon's influence.
Varek sneered, pressing harder.Dark aura slithered down his blade like tendrils reaching for Lyra's sword.
"How does it feel," he hissed, "to taste the strength of Beleth—Seventh Demon of the Infernal Throne?"
Lyra didn't answer.
Her eyes flashed.
ZZRAAAKKK!!
A burst of lightning erupted from her body, forcing Varek to leap back. He landed lightly meters away, boots digging trails into the ground.
"Beleth…" Lyra muttered, recalling her father's teachings. "A demon of raw strength and emotional corruption. No wonder…"
She lifted her sword.
Closed her eyes for a brief second.
Focus. Channel the core. Not too much. Not too little. Perfect control.
Mana surged through her—warm, potent—flowing from her core to her arm, pooling into her palm.
Her blade vibrated.Softly.Then violently.
Pink-violet brilliance engulfed the steel.
ZZZT… ZZT… ZZZTTT!!!
Lightning webbed through the air, her hair lifting like banners caught in a storm.
Then—
The sky answered.
KRAAAKKK!!!
Dark clouds spiraled into existence above, swirling into a massive vortex. Bolts danced wildly within, illuminating the entire forest in blinding flashes.
Varek looked up—smile faltering for the first time.
"What… is this?"
Lyra opened her eyes.
They glowed—bright silver-pink with a spinning crimson ring at their center.
"Voltheim Lightning Art—"
ZRAAAAKKK!!!
A colossal bolt struck her blade.
Light swallowed the clearing.
Varek shielded his face, teeth gritted.
"—Thunder Fang!"
SHHRRRKK—!!
Lyra swung downward.
A massive lightning fang—shaped like the open jaws of a dragon—shot forward, tearing the ground as it charged toward Varek.
BOOOM—KRAAKK—BOOOM!!!
Shockwaves blasted trees apart. Leaves scattered like rain.
Varek's laugh echoed—shaky this time.
"Hahaha… HAHAHA!! Excellent, Lady Voltheim!"
He stabbed his sword into the ground.
WHUUMMM!!!
Dark aura burst outward, forming a thick dome around him.
Lyra's attack slammed into it—
CRAASSHH!!
Light and darkness collided, ripping through the clearing in a violent explosion.
Lyra skidded backward several meters, boots carving into the dirt. Her breath hitched slightly. Sweat dripped down her temple.
He tanked it… His pact with Beleth boosted his defenses beyond expectation.
The smoke thinned—revealing Varek.