"A demon!!" They shouted in unison, veins bulging at their necks as shock crawled across their faces. They couldn't believe what they were seeing — a real-life demon, the very thing the old-world fantasy books warned about. But she wasn't the monstrous adaptation from games and movies. She was strange in another way: an ugly, hairy beast with three eyes — a creature that had lived a thousand years, feeding on human flesh, bringing chaos wherever it went: death, sickness, ruin. Yet the one standing before them was different — almost cute, with red hair and colorful eyes, and no hint of malice. The worst she looked capable of doing was killing a cockroach.

"What do you want with us?" Jamie asked, narrowing his eyes. Who could blame him? He'd just met a stranger who knew his name.

"Justice for my kind."

Her voice held steel. Whatever came next would be serious — lives hung on the balance.

The boys exchanged looks. Demons searching for justice? The irony of it made their foreboding teeth grind.

"For years our kind has been discriminated against, hunted by humans, killed mercilessly!" she said.

"You provoked them!" one of the boys snapped.

"On the contrary — they did." Her reply was quiet but furious.

They gasped, caught between curiosity and dread.

"Your kind hated us, simply because of our appearances and beliefs. For ages they've seen us as enemies."

Bray leaned toward Jamie, trying to start a side conversation. "We can't trust her. Remember what I told you about the slumps. Everything we know says demons are bad."

The demon heard everything; she rolled her eyes at their silliness. Her ears caught frequencies the boys couldn't imagine.

"I don't have time for this!" she snapped, trying to steer the conversation back.

They looked at her, then ignored her, drifting back into debate.

She raised a finger and murmured the words.

[Demon Skill > Time Skip]

The boys' eyes widened; Ingrid's did too. Blue light swallowed what remained of their pupils.

A picture imprinted itself in their minds — sharp, unbearably real. They saw the first demon, Evidod, battling countless beasts that roamed the earth, watched him rise as the first Demon Lord. They saw demons training with the System, and a goddess who copied their work to empower her knights. They saw years later when fire rained from the heavens like molten rain, turning houses and children to ash. Only those plunged into water survived — and some of them drowned anyway.

They saw demons forced into zoos, made to fight beasts for human and elven amusement. They saw the slow, grinding cruelty that led to this moment: the waiting for a Demon Lord to arrive.

The boys sank down, faces buried, hearts raw from the images. They wanted to call it an illusion, a trick to mess with them — but the ache in their chests felt real, as if the memories were their own.

"What's the way forward?" Jamie asked, voice low. Something had shifted in him; the images had carved a resolve. Justice for the dead. Vengeance on whoever had made Midworld like this.

"Disgusting," he muttered, and made a decision: he would help the demons.

"The greatest thing you could do is become stronger," she told him. "Push past your limits. Become stronger than ever."

Those words hit Jamie like an injection of fire. He felt pumped, energized — he knew what he had to do.

"I have to go home. Demons aren't allowed here."

"How?"

"I have my ways. Besides, I'm not dead yet."

...

Grid Lions — Roof

Tension crackled like live wire. Greg and Alexander were surrounded, trapped on the roof with nowhere to flee.

Alexander's jaw tightened; it was the first time he'd seen an elf up close.

"We brought him here… just as we agreed," the tattooed man muttered, breath shallow.

"So I've seen. We'll honor our agreement." The elf bowed his head in a slow, courteous gesture.

"Elf face, square head!" Greg mocked without mercy.

The elf turned, recognition in his silence; he'd heard that same joke before.

"We meet again, don't we?" Greg pressed, feigning familiarity.

The elf remained mute, refusing the bait.

"Doing the captain's bidding, I see. Well, you caught a snake in a fishnet," Greg continued, smiling at his own cruelty. The elf's smirk answered him without a word.

Alexander's eyes narrowed, puzzled by Greg's tone — trying to be casual while surrounded by danger.

"Do you know him?" Greg asked.

"Yeah," Alexander replied, a small smirk. "Was actually in the same Midgard as him — back when he didn't have a square head."

"That's enough of that." The elf's voice cut through. Authority draped every syllable.

"The Captain will have you now, Mr. Alexander." He spoke like an usher escorting a prisoner to a private room.

Alexander's eyes darted. The tattooed man was telling the truth: the Grid Lions wanted him. All the rumors warned the same thing — never get mixed up with them.

"I must decline," Alexander said, steady and certain.

The oversized elf inhaled sharply, shocked by the defiance. Swift as a strike, he pointed a finger.

Boom.

An invisible force slammed tatooed, skidding him across the roof. He left chunks of skin on the gravel like an eraser leaving scrapings on paper.

Boom.

He skidded to a stop at the corner, gasping as the force pinned him.

"Shit," Alexander hissed. Alarm flickered through the assembled men — their so-called partners now showing teeth.

He raised his hands, aiming at the girl and the muscular man.

Boom.

They floated as if cut from their moorings, drifting like kites on a Saturday morning.

Phu! Phu! They thudded down to the rooftop, stunned.

The elf's eyes drilled into Greg and Alexander. He lifted two fingers slammed together, whispering.

[Special Skill > Tornado Punch]

Air itself twisted, converging into a focused, spinning fist.

Phu!!

The cyclone punched Greg, the force staggering him, body screaming under the impact.

Alexander froze. Panic skittered across his thoughts.

"I need to attack," he muttered. "Close range won't work. Long range's impossible." His mind raced for options.

"I will kill them all if you don't cooperate!" the elf threatened.

Alexander held his silence — not surrender, but a dangerous quiet that promised consequences.

"The Captain will have you now," the elf repeated, each word final.

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