The evening air in the demon world carried a faint scent of iron and smoke — not unpleasant, but raw and untamed, like the land itself. Beyond the walls of the small inn, the crimson twilight faded into indigo, and the distant horizon shimmered under the weight of twin moons.
After a day spent in laughter, rest, and quiet companionship, the serenity between Luna and Orpheus began to stir again — not with words, but with that familiar tension that always accompanied training.
They stepped outside the villa into a secluded clearing at the edge of the cliffs, where the wind carried the low hum of the abyss below. Jagged peaks framed the world in shadow, and the faint pulse of demonic energy danced in the air like fireflies.
Orpheus turned to her, his sword already sheathed at his hip.
"You've gotten faster," he said, his tone calm but firm. "But speed means nothing without control."
