The three of them continued to talk long into the night, their voices low as they wove the tapestry of a new destiny.
Plans. Paths. Timelines.
They dissected how each battle would unfold and how they would steer the Six Devils without inciting suspicion. They calculated the odds of surviving the inevitable wrath of Yajin and Civilar, searching for the narrowest window of escape. Night after night, they whispered over the lantern-lit table, eyes sharp and minds racing through a thousand permutations of betrayal and survival.
On the third night, they discussed the art of manipulation—how to lead the pack through a series of staged conflicts, turning every skirmish into a stepping stone for their grand design.
The days that followed passed in a blur of travel and heavy silence.
The Six Devils roamed a vast field of white grass, a land so immense it looked like an ocean frozen in time. The wind brushed the blades in shimmering waves, turning the plains into a living sea of silver that rippled under a pale sky.
Then, they saw them.
Ten figures stood in the distance, silhouettes perfectly still against the horizon. As the Devils drew closer, the shapes sharpened into form: ten beings in flowing white robes, with hair like spun silk and eyes of pure, blinding white. Their expressions were carved from cold stone.
Members of the Council of Gods.
One of the deities stepped forward, his voice echoing unnaturally across the vastness. "Ah… if it isn't the little devils. Have you come to meet your end?"
Civilar raised a massive palm without a second of hesitation.
"The rest of you, hold back," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Eiden, Yajin, and I are more than capable of slaughtering these ten."
Reia's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Are you insane? Those are ten members of the Council! You'll be killed!"
Civilar scoffed, a sound of pure arrogance. "Please."
His chained blades materialized in his hands, the metal crackling with a surge of raw, suffocating power. "They have to limit their strength. They fear destroying the land they claim to protect, so they restrict themselves. They are at a disadvantage."
Yajin unsheathed the Sword of Judgment. The pale gold veins along its blade began to pulse with a rhythmic, golden light, beating like a heart hungry for battle.
Eiden reached for his own weapons. He drew the longsword from his lower waist, sliding it through the specialized metal sleeve on his left glove until it locked into place with a heavy click. Then, he unsheathed both katanas, their polished edges catching the first rays of the rising sun.
Yajin's lips curled into a predatory smirk.
"This will be an easy hunt. Now—"
He bolted forward, his white cloak snapping behind him like a banner of war.
"—let's see who holds back."