The first sign was silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the hollow absence left behind when life is erased too quickly to scream. Lunaria City, once a web of lights and voices and movement, became a corpse of concrete and steel in less than an hour.
The Queen's special son descended like a calamity given form.
He did not rampage blindly. He moved with purpose, with intelligence sharpened by abyss and chaos. Entire districts vanished under precise, sweeping motions. Towers folded in on themselves. Streets split open. Any remaining civilians—those who had failed to flee, those who had believed the worst had already passed—were erased without ceremony. No mercy. No hesitation.
By the time the monster stopped, Lunaria City no longer existed as a place of life. Only ruins remained.
Then the special ant returned.
It landed at the center of devastation, its massive frame casting a shadow over what had once been the city's heart. Abyssal energy pulsed through its armored body like a second bloodstream. Chaos flared along the edges of its limbs. It lowered its head, mandibles trembling—not in weakness, but in grief.
The Queen was gone.
For a long moment, the monster remained still, surrounded by destruction of its own making. A mourning ritual, alien yet unmistakable. Its psychic presence rippled outward, heavy with hatred so concentrated it felt like gravity.
Then it lifted its head.
And its gaze found Lunaria.
He stood alone across the ruined square.
His ribbon was already tied.
Silver hair fell neatly down his back, unbroken, pristine—for now. His posture was relaxed, almost gentle, but the air around him warped, shadows curling unnaturally at his feet. Chaos energy bled from his presence in restrained pulses, like a heart beating behind iron bars.
Behind him, far back among shattered buildings, Ash, Kael, Riven, and Juno stood frozen.
None of them moved.
None of them could.
The aura radiating from Lunaria was wrong—too dense, too sharp, too absolute. It pressed against their instincts, their training, their very will. Every fiber of their being screamed the same message:
Do not interfere.
The special ant moved first.
There was no warning. No buildup. One moment it stood still, the next it vanished.
The sound came after.
A concussive crack tore through the ruins as the monster reappeared directly in front of Lunaria, claw already mid-swing. The speed was monstrous, far beyond what it had shown before—beyond what even S-ranked hunters could perceive.
Lunaria raised his sword.
The impact was catastrophic.
A single strike, infused with abyssal pressure and chaos acceleration, collided with the blade—and cut through it as if it were glass. The sword shattered, fragments scattering through the air, embedding into distant rubble.
The force alone should have torn Lunaria apart.
It didn't.
Before the pieces even hit the ground, Lunaria was already moving.
His hand slipped to his side, fingers closing around the hilt of the knife the System had given him long ago—a weapon he had never needed until now. The blade slid free with a soft metallic whisper, utterly calm in contrast to the violence around it.
The special ant did not pause.
It followed the broken strike seamlessly, its body twisting as it reappeared again—this time behind Lunaria. The killing intent was absolute. Its claw came down in a perfect arc, aimed not at his body, not at his heart—
But his head.
Time stretched.
Ash inhaled sharply. Juno's fingers twitched. Kael took an involuntary step forward and stopped, his legs locking under pressure he couldn't explain.
The strike landed.
Not on flesh.
The blade met the ribbon.
For a fraction of a second, resistance existed—thin, fragile, impossible.
Then the ribbon snapped.
The claw continued through, slicing cleanly through Lunaria's hair.
Silver strands scattered into the air, drifting down slowly, catching the light of burning chaos like falling stars. When the motion ended, Lunaria stood unharmed—his hair now cut to half its original length, the ribbon gone.
Silence returned.
The special ant recoiled instinctively.
Not because it had failed to kill him.
But because something had changed.
Lunaria straightened.
Shadows surged outward violently, no longer restrained. Chaos energy erupted from his body in blazing arcs, the ground beneath his feet cracking and sinking under the pressure. His presence expanded, sharp and overwhelming, a predator finally unbound.
His eyes lifted.
Silver burned into something colder. Something deeper.
Terrifying.
The System spoke.
> [SYSTEM OVERDRIVE: AUTHORIZED]
[All limiters disengaged.]
[User parameters: unrestricted.]
The world seemed to tilt.
The aura exploded.
Ash, Kael, Riven, and Juno were forced back several steps as if struck by an invisible wall. Their instincts screamed in panic now, not fear for Lunaria—but fear of him. None of them could step closer. Their bodies refused to obey.
Lunaria rolled his shoulders once, knife resting loosely in his grip. Shadows wrapped around the blade, chaos fire tracing its edge with surgical precision. His hair, now shorter, framed his face in a way that stripped away softness, revealing something honed and lethal beneath.
He looked at the special ant.
And smiled.
"You destroyed my city," he said calmly. "You mourned your mother."
He took one step forward.
The ground fractured.
"But you made a mistake."
The special ant screeched, rage and confusion colliding as it launched itself forward again, speed tearing the air apart.
Lunaria vanished.
Not dodged.
Not evaded.
Vanished.
He reappeared above the monster, knife already descending, shadow and chaos fused into a single, perfect line of death.
The fight began—not as a clash of brute force, but as an execution written in motion, speed, and absolute dominance.
And for the first time since its birth, the Queen's special son felt something unfamiliar tighten in its core.
Fear.