EPILOGUE - VOLUME 1
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I wiped the blood from my sword.
"We did it!" Grey's grin was huge, his chest heaving. "First demon outside the Holy Land and we actually—"
"Don't celebrate yet," Aria said, but even she was smiling slightly. "Clean kills are good, but one low-class demonic beast doesn't mean—"
The ground shook.
My head snapped up. "What—"
The horde appeared over the ridge.
Dozens of them. Massive bodies. Horned heads. Muscles rippling under dark hide. Each one three times the size of the one we'd just killed.
Running straight at us.
"FORMATION!" Aria's voice cracked with urgency. Her hands were already glowing.
My sword came up. Grey's shield locked into position. The holy blade sat cold in my grip—no synchronization yet. Not enough demonic energy proximity.
This was it. Real combat. A whole horde. Everything we'd trained for—
They ran past us.
Not at us.
*Past* us.
I stood frozen, sword raised uselessly, as the horde split around our position like water around a stone. Massive bodies thundering by on both sides. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kill us with one swing.
None of them even looked at us.
They were running *from* something.
"What the hell could—" Grey's voice died.
The ground cracked.
She landed in the center of the road behind us. Red cloak settling around her shoulders. A greatsword—no, calling it a sword was wrong. It was a slab of crimson steel taller than she was, broader. She held it one-handed like it weighed nothing.
One of the fleeing demons stumbled. Tried to change direction.
She moved.
I didn't see the swing. I saw the *result*. Her entire body rotated with the blade—not fighting the momentum, *using* it. The demon split down the middle. Perfect bisection. Two halves hitting the ground.
She completed the spin. Landed. The massive blade settled across her shoulders.
All of it in one motion.
Then she looked at me.
Direct eye contact. Her face was young—maybe my age, maybe younger. But her eyes...
She smiled.
Not friendly. Not cruel. Just... *amused*.
Like we were children playing with wooden swords.
Then she was gone. Red cloak disappearing into the forest after the horde.
The sounds came seconds later. Impacts. Screams cut short. Silence. More impacts.
I stood there. My sword still raised. My "first kill" celebration forgotten.
Grey lowered his shield slowly. His hand was shaking. "What... what the *fuck* was that?"
Aria's face had gone pale. "We need to leave. Now."
"Who was—"
"*Now*, Sir Kaito."
The forest had gone quiet. Too quiet.
"We're not ready," I whispered. The words came out on their own. "We trained for over a week. We learned coordination. We improved our gear control. And we're *still not ready yet*."
Aria didn't try to comfort me. Didn't offer false hope.
Because it was true.
That girl had just casually hunted the thing that would have killed all of us.
And she'd smiled like it was *boring*.
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The last demon fell in the underbrush near the creek.
She didn't waste time. Quick thrust through the heart. It collapsed without sound.
Forty-three demons. Thirty-seven minutes from first contact to last kill.
Decent pace. Not her best work, but respectable.
She cleaned the blade on the demon's hide. Methodical. Practiced. The greatsword gleamed red in the fading light before she sheathed it across her back.
The hero and his party would be long gone by now. Probably running back to whatever safe zone they'd emerged from.
Good.
They weren't ready for this world. Holy sword or not.
She'd heard the rumors, of course. Failed summoning.
Now they managed to make one stick around.
*Interesting.*
Her lips quirked slightly.
But interesting wasn't her concern. She worked alone. No parties. No complications. No one to slow her down or second-guess her methods.
Just her, the hunt, and the inevitable conclusion.
That's how it had always been.
That's how it would stay.
Still... the way that boy had looked at her. That moment of realization. When he understood exactly how far he had to go.
*Maybe this season won't be completely boring after all.*
A demon coughed weakly in the brush nearby. Not dead yet. Playing dead. Waiting for her to leave.
Old trick.
The blade sang once.
The coughing stopped.
She turned toward the road. Okyot was three days west. She had contracts waiting. Real work.
The hero could play his games. Build his little party. Train in his safe zones.
When he was ready—if he ever became ready—maybe their paths would cross again.
Until then, work continued.
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The end of volume 1