"Incidents regarding devils are increasing at a rapid speed recently. I wonder what could be the reason behind it."
A 22 years old woman with long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, fair skin, mature look, gorgeous and perplexing beauty, wearing a black military uniform. Her name is Lia Marie.
She was sitting in a black color sofa chair with a cup of black coffee in her hand. In front of her was a wooden desk.
On the other side of the desk, on a chair, was sitting a 20 years old woman with long white hair, red eyes, cold expression, wearing a black military uniform. Her name is Lamie Burtner.
Lamie expressionlessly replied:
"It is true. No matter how many of them we kill they just keep on coming. It is simply annoying."
Lia sipped her coffee, then said with a worrisome face:
"In the past there weren't much devil interferences in our world. But now, specially from this past 5 years devils are appearing everywhere in our world and wrecking havoc. At this rate, I fear the prophecy regarding the devils and our world might actually come true."
"Yeah, I am worried too."
Lamie said.
Lia stood up from the chair, and went near the large window, then looked at the dark gray sky.
"I just wish we find someone who could prove the prophecy wrong."
A long sigh came out of her mouth as he uttered those words with hopelessness in them.
Outskirts of Hyden Kingdom:
A desolate place devoid of order or cleanliness, the outskirts are a haven for decay. The air is heavy with the stench of rotting garbage scattered everywhere, leaving no trace of a healthy environment. Here reside people stripped of wealth and status, clinging to survival amid filth.
Amid this squalor wandered a pale, frail-looking boy. His depressed blue eyes scanned his surroundings, his messy bluish-white spiky hair adding to his disheveled appearance. He wore a slightly torn black shirt and black half-pants, bearing the wear of hardship. This boy was Burn.
Burn roamed this forsaken area for a single purpose: to find food. Turning his head left and right as he walked, he desperately searched for something edible but found nothing. His stomach growled loudly, and he sighed in frustration.
'Damn, I'm starving. I haven't eaten since last night. If I don't find something soon, I might collapse from hunger.'
No matter how hard he looked, today seemed unusually cruel. Unlike most days, he found no discarded scraps thrown out by the more fortunate citizens of Hyden Kingdom.
Just as despair crept in, and he was about to turn back empty-handed, he felt a soft poke on his back.
Startled, Burn turned around quickly and blushed.
"Vincia!"
Standing behind him was a girl with long pink hair, melancholy yellow eyes, and pale skin. She wore a slightly torn white dress, her beauty ethereal yet overshadowed by her sickly pallor. Vincia smiled innocently at him.
"Guess what? I found some food. Want to share it with me?" she offered, holding out a small piece of bread with her characteristic kindness.
This wasn't unusual. For some reason, Vincia was always kind to Burn, often sharing her meager food with him. But her compassion extended to everyone in the outskirts, not just Burn. In this bleak, despair-filled place, Vincia was a radiant beacon of hope.
Burn's face flushed deeper as he took the bread, his heart pounding in his chest.
'She's so beautiful. I wish I could marry her someday.'
Burn had harbored a deep crush on Vincia for as long as he could remember. Her mesmerizing smile, unearthly beauty, and boundless kindness were the only things that gave him a reason to wake up each day. To him, Vincia was his world.
"Th-thank you for sharing your bread, Vincia," Burn stammered with a shy smile.
"You're welcome," she replied warmly, her smile lighting up her pale face.
"Let's eat," Burn said, his voice tinged with joy, as he eagerly took a bite of the bread.
Vincia nodded and began nibbling on her portion.
After finishing his bread, Burn noticed something strange. "By the way, Vincia, do you know what those marks are? I don't remember seeing them before."
He gestured toward several red marks, each about four centimeters wide, scattered across the outskirts.
Vincia's face grew thoughtful as she stared at the markings. "I've been wondering about them too," she said after a pause. "But I have no idea where they came from or why they're here."
Burn studied the marks with growing unease.
'I didn't see them yesterday. Could someone have painted them all overnight? But why?
He sighed, brushing the thought aside for now.
"Anyway, Burn," Vincia began, her voice taking on a softer tone, "I wanted to ask you something."
Burn looked at her, intrigued.
Her cheeks flushed slightly as she hesitated before saying, "If it's okay with you, would you come eat at my place?"
Burn blinked in surprise, his eyes wide. This was the first time Vincia had ever invited him to her home. He hadn't expected it.
"If you don't mind," she added quickly.
"Of course!" Burn replied, his excitement barely contained.
As they walked together, Vincia gazed at the gray sky, her expression distant. A trace of sadness lingered in the corner of her eyes, unnoticed by Burn, who was too caught up in his happiness.
Hands in his pockets, he followed her through the heaps of trash, his heart light.
"Hey, Vincia! How are you doing?" called an old man seated on a worn bench nearby.
"I'm doing fine as always. How about you, Mr. Ashid?" she replied with a bright smile.
"Great as ever," the old man said, grinning.
Like this everyone in this outskirts greeted her warmly as she and Burn was heading her home.
Trailing behind her, Burn couldn't help but smile wistfully.
'She's as popular as ever.'
***
"Here, I've prepared some food for you," Vincia said softly, her voice carrying a gentle warmth.
She placed a simple plate of rice and curry on the creaky, splintered wooden table in front of Burn. The aroma of the curry filled the air, rich and inviting, a rare luxury in this dilapidated space Burn reluctantly called home.
Burn's eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at the plate as if it were a mirage. "Curry? Here?" he thought. It wasn't every day—if ever—that he got to eat something so extravagant in this grimy corner of the world.
"Thank you," Burn murmured, bowing his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He reached for the stained spoon, but as his fingers wrapped around it, his gaze shifted to Vincia. She wasn't eating. Instead, she sat across from him, her hands folded neatly on the table, her expression calm and patient. No plate, no food in front of her. Just her.
"Um... Vincia," Burn hesitated, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Aren't you going to eat?"
Vincia smiled, a soft, almost ethereal smile that made her seem untouchable yet impossibly close. Resting her chin lightly on her wrist, she replied, "I will eat. But not now. Please, go ahead."
Her eyes lingered on him, warm and tender, and it left Burn momentarily frozen. He gulped, feeling the weight of her gaze like a spotlight.
"Oh," he mumbled awkwardly, his voice cracking slightly.
His thoughts spiraled as he picked up the spoon, trying to focus on the food.
'Oh man, how am I supposed to eat if she keeps looking at me like that?'
He felt his face flush as though her attention was burning straight through him.
'This is so embarrassing...'
Steeling himself, Burn scooped a spoonful of curry and rice, shoving it into his mouth. His eyes shot wide open the moment the flavors hit his tongue.
"This... this is amazing!" he thought, his mind reeling at the rich blend of spices, the perfect balance of heat and flavor. It was unlike anything he'd tasted in years—or maybe ever. Without thinking, he took another bite. Then another. Soon, he was devouring the meal, barely pausing to breathe.
Before he realized it, more than half the plate was gone.
Vincia's soft chuckle broke through his trance. He looked up, his cheeks puffed with food, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and surprise.
"Burn," she said gently, her tone shifting.
"Hmm?" Burn mumbled, still chewing as he met her gaze.
Her expression had turned serious now, though her warmth hadn't faded entirely. "Do you... care about this place and its people?" she asked, her voice quiet but probing, as if her question carried more weight than he could yet understand.
Being asked such a difficult question, Burn froze mid-chew. His fork hovered in the air as his jaw stiffened.
'Huh? How am I gonna answer that?'
He thought, his mind scrambling for a response.
'I can't just say I care about this dumpster of a place and its people.'
Burn closed his eyes, his face pinched in thought, looking like someone who had just been handed a riddle with no answer. The truth wasn't exactly flattering, and he couldn't simply say he didn't care. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he tried to piece together a gentler way to frame his indifference.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and glanced at Vincia, who was watching him expectantly. Her gaze felt heavy, making it harder for him to breathe. Finally, he spoke:
"I… truth be told, I really don't care much about this place or its people. I mean, who could? Living in a dumpster like this..." His voice trailed off awkwardly, realizing the words sounded harsher out loud than in his head. He let out a nervous chuckle. "Ahem."
Vincia stared at him, her piercing gaze holding him captive. Then, to his surprise, she sighed—except it wasn't the kind of sigh he expected. It sounded more like relief, as though a burden had been lifted.
"I see. That's… good to know." She paused, her tone turning quieter, more deliberate. "So, what about me? Do you care for me?"
Burn flinched as if she'd physically struck him. His face turned crimson, his composure shattered by the unexpected question. He couldn't say it—he couldn't admit how madly in love he was with her. His gaze darted to the side, avoiding her eyes as heat radiated from his cheeks.
That was all Vincia needed to see. Her lips curved into a faint, dampened smile, though it seemed tinged with sadness.
"I see," she murmured softly.
'What do you mean 'see'?'Burn muttered hurriedly, feeling his heart race.
Vincia rose from her spot, a small, stained knife in her hand. Her movements were slow, deliberate, almost ritualistic. Burn's brow furrowed as he watched her approach the blanket lying on the ground.
"Vincia? What are you doing?" he asked cautiously, unease creeping into his voice.
She said nothing. Instead, she knelt and pulled back the blanket, revealing something that made Burn's stomach twist.
Painted across the dirt floor was a massive circle drawn in red, intricate symbols woven into its design. Lines stretched outward from the circle in jagged patterns, extending toward the edges of the tent.
Burn's breath hitched. His mind raced as he pieced together what he was seeing.
"Vincia… is everything okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and dread.
She turned to him, her face shadowed but her expression painfully vivid. Her smile was strange—layered with sadness, happiness, loneliness, and regret all at once. It was a smile that didn't belong on someone like her.
"It was good knowing you," she said softly.
Burn's chest tightened as panic surged through him.
"Wait—what do you mean?!" he shouted, standing abruptly.
He stepped closer to her, his eyes darting from her face to the crimson markings on the ground. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It was the same markings he'd seen before—markings he'd hoped were just random graffiti.
Abruptly, the sound of a blade cutting flesh pierced the silence.
Burn's body stiffened. His gaze dropped to his chest, where Vincia's knife was buried deep. His breath hitched as blood dripped from the corner of his lips, staining them red.
"Why…?" he choked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Vincia pulled the knife back without a word, blood glistening on the blade. With cold precision, she sliced her left palm and pressed it against the circle on the ground. Droplets of her blood fell, soaking into the red markings.
"O devils," she intoned, her voice low and trembling. "I offer you my beloved in exchange for unrivaled power. From this moment, I sign an unbreakable contract with my blood… and my offering."
As her words filled the air, the circle beneath her began to glow—a pulsating crimson light that bathed the tent in an eerie, otherworldly hue. The glow spread rapidly, seeping beyond the tent and casting the outskirts in an ominous red haze.
The people outside began to shout in panic, their voices rising in terrified confusion as they saw the scarlet light illuminate the night.
"Vincia!" Burn yelled, his voice hoarse with pain and sorrow. "What are you doing?! Why?! Answer me!"
But she didn't respond. Her focus remained on the circle, her expression unreadable.
Burn collapsed to his knees, blood pooling beneath him. He coughed violently, crimson staining the ground. His body trembled, his heart breaking as he stared at her.
A monstrous hand emerged from the glowing circle—a decayed, gray appendage with jagged black nails. The ground quaked as a second hand followed, both gripping the earth as something massive pulled itself free.
The roar that followed was ear-shattering, a guttural bellow that rattled Burn to his core.
A grotesque figure clawed its way out of the circle, its elongated, twisted body towering above them. Its blackened flesh writhed with small, twitching hands sprouting from its torso, each hand tipped with tiny, claw-like fingers. Its face was a nightmare—multiple eyes, a jagged mouth lined with sharp teeth, and even more hands writhing across its features.
"Aaaaaghrrr! I have heard your desire, human," the devil rasped, its voice a guttural snarl that reverberated through the tent.
Burn's vision blurred as he stared at the creature. His chest felt heavy, not just from the wound but from the overwhelming betrayal that crushed him.
"Vincia… why…?"
She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the devil, her expression unreadable.
One of the gray fingers of the Devil touched Vincia's forehead. Then she began to glow in black energy...