The sky above the borderlands resembled a torn canvas. The lingering scars of Stent Gaht’s radiant sword strikes hung in the air, clashing with the remnants of Lucifer’s black flames that stubbornly refused to go out. The remnants of the destruction left behind by the Law vessels of both Level 9 Constellation Law Lords still lingered upon the world, with no telling when they would ever truly fade away. Stent Gaht and Lucifer stood at the center of a colossal space crater—the result of their countless exchanges over the past week.

Lucifer regulated his breathing with practiced calm. His black robes were tattered, yet his eyes still radiated an unshakeable authority. Before him, Stent Gaht—the pinnacle of human strength—stood with his sword thrust into the earth, watching him with total vigilance. Though their duel appeared lethal, both combatants were aware they had yet to reveal their true power. However, from the blows traded thus far, Lucifer knew he held a slight advantage.

Suddenly, a mana transmission vibrated in Lucifer’s ear. It was an emergency cipher, sent only when a high-ranking official had fallen.

"Furfur... has perished. His Level 8 Mana Core was completely obliterated. Wilwatikta is no longer just a monster settlement; they are a walking catastrophe."

Lucifer froze. For a moment, the world around him seemed to lose its sound. Furfur—the demon of destruction he had sent to crush Wilwatikta while he distracted Stent Gaht—was dead. Furfur was no weakling; with a Level 8 Mana Core, he should have been able to raze the monster kingdom to the ground alone with ease.

How is this possible? Lucifer thought. Only yesterday, they were merely a collection of weak monsters who would have trembled at the mere mention of Furfur’s name.

A foreign sense of dread began to creep into Lucifer’s heart. He suspected something far darker. The presence of a monster species that didn’t possess a single drop of mana, yet was capable of evolving and utilizing an energy that could devour mana itself... the thought made Lucifer’s skin crawl as he considered an absurd possibility looming in his mind.

Though Lucifer had been very young at the time, he still remembered how the world trembled when Daemon’s body exploded. Asmodeus had claimed that Daemon committed suicide out of boredom. It was a ridiculous, nonsensical reason, yet they were forced to swallow it whole because none of them possessed the strength to match the Father of All Demons. Daemon was so powerful he was synonymous with mana itself—a personification of pure energy.

If Daemon truly was the personification of mana, it made sense that his death would cause an eternal mana rain, and that from those pools, the Mana Demons were born. But the question remained: Why did Daemon create them?

Despite the near-infinite number of Mana Demons, their initial strength was pitiful. Every Mana Demon was born with only a Level 1 Mana Core. While they had the potential to grow stronger by devouring other mana-based species, that process took an immense amount of time. Conversely, the Pureblood Demons were born strong as Law Lords, yet they lacked that massive growth potential. This was the reason they had invaded the Meer Continent; they feared that if the Mana Demons continued to evolve unchecked, they would one day hunt the Purebloods for prey.

The massive potential of the Mana Demons had always worried Lucifer. But if Daemon hadn’t intended for his children to be eaten, what was the purpose of that army? Did Daemon plan to devour them himself to become even stronger? No, Daemon was already the strongest as long as mana existed in the world.

But what if there was a creature capable of devouring mana itself?

The answer to why Daemon blew himself up to create the Mana Demons finally clicked in Lucifer’s mind. Daemon was preparing an army with infinite potential that could grow simply by consuming. He had prepared that army to fight an enemy capable of devouring the very existence of this world.

That enemy was... the Monsters.

Initially, Lucifer believed that seeking help from other species was an insult to the dignity of the Demon race. But seeing the growth rate of the monster species, he realized that pride would only become his people’s grave. If he didn’t act now, the only way to match the monsters’ growth would be to allow his own kin to be devoured by the Mana Demons to force a faster evolution.

"I misjudged the direction of the wind," Lucifer whispered softly—a rare admission. He felt no shame; to him, acknowledging an error was simply a strategy for survival.

Lucifer stood tall once more. He stepped forward, triggering a massive aura of darkness. Stent Gaht immediately dropped into a combat stance, bracing for the next lethal exchange. However, this time, Lucifer did not move with killing intent. He stopped exactly at the edge of Stent’s striking range.

"Strongest Human," Lucifer’s voice echoed low and heavy with emphasis. "You must have felt it. That tremor beneath the earth... something far more terrifying than our war is gestating down there."

Stent Gaht narrowed his eyes but did not lower his blade. "What are you planning, Demon?"

"Sheathe your sword for a moment," Lucifer continued, his gaze piercing into the human hero. "I am not speaking to you now to see who dies first, but to ensure there is still a world left for us to fight over tomorrow. Wilwatikta is no longer a problem for my race alone. Let us talk... before those monsters devour us all."

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Demon Continent

The sky over the Demon Continent never knew the meaning of rest. Thick, bruise-colored clouds hung low, constantly spitting out a viscous, neon-purple liquid that fell with a monotonous splat... splat... It was no ordinary rain; it was pure mana with a viscosity akin to oil, pounding against a ground long since saturated by the remnants of ancient battles.

The earth on this continent was never dry. Every inch of its surface was a murky swamp—a mixture of mana rain and blood that had turned black with age. No trees grew here; no birds flew. Life here knew only one manifestation: the Demon.

In an open plain, a large, previously still pool began to churn. Its surface, reflecting the purple glow, started to froth, creating strange ripples as the mana thickened and solidified. Suddenly, a curved, razor-sharp black claw tore through the surface from below, followed by a scaled fist that gripped the edge of the muck greedily.

With a raspy sound like tearing meat, a creature crawled out. The thick purple liquid still dripped from its lean, wiry frame. The creature—a Mana Demon—stood on trembling legs, immediately looking toward the sky and letting out a hollow, parau roar. There was no soul behind its glowing red eyes, only a primitive hunger demanding to be sated. It was born of a natural accident, a wild manifestation of the never-ending mana rain.

Its sense of smell was instantly filled with the damp aroma of blood and mana mixed in the air. The scent drove it into a frenzy. Without waiting, the Mana Demon lunged at its "sibling" who had just been born beside it. With jagged fangs, it began to tear into the unfortunate creature that hadn’t even fully formed. But before it could savor the flesh, another Mana Demon that had been waiting impatiently lunged and severed its head with a single, precise sweep of its claws.

Similar scenes played out in thousands of other puddles. The number of Mana Demons being born and slaughtering one another had reached the billions and continued to climb. The sounds of roaring and death never ceased, harmonizing with the droplets of mana rain that relentlessly soaked the continent.

However, several miles from the site of the massacre, there was a basalt cave whose entrance was hidden by a massive curtain of falling mana. Inside, the mana water submerged the floor up to waist-height, creating a still, highly concentrated primordial pool. The atmosphere was silent, far from the cacophony of the demons outside. There, in the dim luminescence of the mana, a figure leaned against a natural stone pillar.

Without warning, the figure’s eyelids opened.

Unlike the thousands of Mana Demons born outside, this being’s eyes did not radiate a red mist of savagery. Its pupils were clear, a cold gold that pierced the darkness with terrifying sharpness. It did not snarl. It did not struggle. It simply remained still, observing its own hands as they moved with perfect control—flexing its fingers one by one as if studying a new instrument.

Inside its mind, thousands of pieces of information began to align neatly. Self-awareness flowed more heavily than the mana soaking its body. While its siblings outside knew only how to kill, this being began to ask: Who am I? And where am I?

Evolution had taken an impossible leap in the darkness of that cave. Amidst the ocean of madness that was the Demon Continent, a cold intellect had awakened. A Mana Demon unlike any that had ever existed; an existence whose presence the Pureblood Demons feared as an apocalyptic prophecy.

A Mana Demon Law Lord.