(Sable POV)
I found the but, I also found something else.
Through the proxy's eyes, I got music video whiplash.
The crowd wasn't just loud — it was seismic. Every shriek was a blade of sound stabbing my eardrums through the magical feed. In the middle of it all, there they were: five guys on stage, glowing like they'd been dipped in glitter and weaponized charisma.
And yeah. I knew exactly who they were.
The Saja Boys.
Demons.
Pop idols.
The most chaotically marketable combo since pumpkin spice toothpaste.
They were halfway through "Soda Pop", a song so aggressively bubbly it could probably dissolve teeth. The choreography was sharp and obnoxiously perfect, every move calculated to make the audience combust.
Front and center: tall, sharp, jawline-for-days guy with black hair — Jinu. Mr. Shoulder-Check-Your-Tonics himself. Even through the proxy's eyes, I could see the smugness radiating off him. Probably rehearsed that look in the mirror.
Next to him, a walking paint swatch with turquoise mop hair — Baby. Face like an anime plush, eyes big enough to make small animals trust him. Definitely the "innocent" one. Spoiler: not innocent.
Behind them, the raspberry-haired mountain — Abby. Built like someone dared a protein shake to try harder. Honestly looked like he could bench press me. Not that he would. Probably.
Then there was Romance — the one with pink hair shaped like a heart. I'm not making that up. Literally a heart. It was like his stylist declared war on subtlety and won.
And finally, Mystery — lavender hair hanging over his eyes like he was in witness protection. Couldn't see his face at all. Probably for the best.
Each one moved in perfect sync, vocals sliding effortlessly over a bassline so sugary it felt illegal. And yet, under all the polished glam, I could see them — not with Astral Sight this time, but with the little details: the unnatural precision in their footwork, the micro-hesitations like they were syncing with something deeper than the beat. Demon tells.
The patterns were probably there to but my proxy was to far to tell.
And right there in the crowd, trying really hard to look normal?
Huntr/x.
Rumi, Mira, Zoey — squeezed between a mob of fans, all eyes on the stage trying to push their way through.
Which meant I knew exactly where in the timeline I was. Bathhouse fight incoming. In maybe… a day? Two at most. Which gave me a very clear ETA for my harvest.
Good. The Chalice would eat well.
I panned the proxy's vision away from the stage and conjured a second one, sending it to stick with the girls. Not close enough to be spotted — just… casual surveillance. Which is apparently fine when I do it because it's for "cosmic balance" or whatever.
The first proxy stayed in place, soaking up the Saja Boys' performance. The second slipped through the chaos, floating overhead, locking onto Huntr/x like a heat-seeking missile.
With my recon running, I cut the main feed, snapping back to my own eyes. I was crouched on the edge of a rooftop a block away, city lights flickering beneath me like a restless constellation.
"Alright," I muttered to myself. "We've got a plan. Step one: wait for the bathhouse fight. Step two: collect the souls of freshly defeated demons. Step three: ??? Step four: profit."
I stood, dusted myself off, and started walking. No point hanging around here — the plot wouldn't move until it was ready, and I wasn't about to waste mana playing concert voyeur all night.
Instead, I needed somewhere quiet. Neutral ground. A place to prep spells and sharpen the First Star, maybe even run a few… containment tests. Another hotel would do. Preferably one where the walls didn't smell like cigarette ghosts and regret.
As I hopped down from the rooftop into a side street, the second proxy pinged me — just a little mental nudge that Huntr/x was on the move. I smiled.
"Perfect," I said under my breath. "You three go make friends with the plot. I'll be ready when the curtain drops."
And with that, I melted into the flow of the city, whistling Soda Pop under my breath like I wasn't already planning to kill the performers.
[6 hour timeskip]
I was sprinting across rooftops like the world's most overdressed parkour enthusiast.
"Holy—okay. They move fast," I muttered between folds, the city flashing past in chunks as reality bent with each step. "Can't even sit down for one second—one second—and boom, the plot's already doing sprints."
I flicked my attention toward the proxy tailing Huntr/x, and yep—there they were.
Leather. All-black, combat-ready, and somehow still pop-star shiny. Even through a magical feed, the outfits screamed photo op meets demon hunt. Weapons strapped like accessories: Rumi's glowing purple sword, Mira's woldo like a glaive with fashion sense, and Zoey's infinite supply of shiny knives.
Through the proxy's vantage, I watched them slip through the back door of a building, quick and quiet like they were sneaking into enemy territory. Except… the signage and stage lighting inside made it very obvious this was some kind of variety game show backstage. So… technically, they were.
I cut the feed and kept moving. If this was the right place in the timeline, then the bathhouse wasn't far off. Which meant—
…Right. I can't read Korean.
What should've been a five-minute search turned into the world's most humiliating rooftop scavenger hunt. Signs everywhere. Beautiful neon. All completely useless to me. I must've looked like a tourist with commitment issues, folding from roof to roof while squinting at bathhouse-shaped buildings like they might confess their identity out loud.
Finally—finally—I spotted one. Steam vents. Traditional roofline. People carrying towels. Jackpot.
I folded to just outside the perimeter and got to work.
Wooden stakes, etched in fine engravings, slid into place along the edges of the building. One by the alley corner. Another by the rear vent. A third under a decorative lantern. Each one hummed faintly as it locked in, little nodes of containment magic ready to turn this place into my personal demon trap.
Satisfied, I double-checked the setup, then folded back to my earlier rooftop vantage point.
Now… we wait.
Except I'm not good at waiting.
Curiosity tugged at me, so I peeked back into the proxy following Huntr/x. Bad idea.
Instant regret.
What I heard was… well… I don't even have the vocabulary for it. The girls, in full leather, had apparently decided it was a great idea to go down a giant plastic slide into a ball pit. The result was a noise so awful it could've been a torture method in some interdimensional war crime tribunal—a slow, high-pitched screech of leather against plastic, echoing like the death wail of an angry violin.
Even the proxy chirped in pain.
I cut the connection instantly, grimacing and rubbing my temples. "Oh, that's staying with me forever. Great. Perfect. Love that for me."
By the time my ears stopped ringing, movement on the street caught my eye.
The Saja Boys. Heading straight for the bathhouse. And just behind them, Huntr/x, moving like a trio of avenging pop-star avengers.
I felt my grin pull wide under the city lights. Slowly, I reached to the side and into the fold of my pocket space. My fingers closed around smooth composite. I pulled out a matte black motorcycle helmet with a tinted visor—my own little "do not perceive me" disguise.
As the visor clicked into place, I whispered to myself, low and eager:
"Let the harvest begin."
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A/N: oooooooooooo it's picking up (finally) wondering how he will "collect his crops"? well find out next time on DRAGON BAL-*cough* *cough* sorry wrong place.
So, what y'all think? I want to see your guy's feedback so don't hesitate to comment.
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SEEEE YYYAAAAAA NNNNEEEEEXTTTT TIIIIIMMMMEEE!!!!!!!!!!!