The arena had already descended into complete madness.

Bodies littered the dirt-covered battlefield, some unconscious, some dead, others crawling desperately away from ongoing fights only to be dragged back into the carnage by another participant trying to survive. Blood mixed into the ground beneath our feet until the dirt itself had turned dry.

The underground tournament had stopped being a competition several minutes ago.

Now it was simply slaughter.

I stood near the eastern side of the arena, breathing steadily despite the chaos around me. My blade still broken hung loosely at my side, the blade stained crimson from the earlier exchanges. Around me, fighters maintained their distance instinctively now. The earlier use of Guiding Light had already established me as someone dangerous.

Good.

Fear created space.

And space was exactly what I needed.

The demon should appear soon, I thought while scanning the battlefield carefully. Once the ritual begins, security around the underground vault will collapse for a few minutes. That’s my opportunity.

Everything depended on timing.

The Celestial Sword Art hidden beneath the Velvet Gang’s branch base wasn’t something I could afford to miss. In the game, that hidden dungeon had only been discovered accidentally during one of the later arcs, long after the main character became strong enough to survive its conditions.

But I wasn’t following the story anymore.

I was cutting through it.

A scream erupted nearby as a fighter had his arm severed cleanly by a reinforced axe strike. Another body hit the ground beside me moments later, twitching violently before going still.

I ignored it.

The moment I sensed a fluctuation in mana deeper within the arena, my eyes sharpened immediately.

There.

The pressure was subtle at first.

Dark mana.

Dense.

Ancient.

Not from any fighter present.

I immediately turned toward the eastern corridor leading deeper into the underground facility.

The ritual was beginning.

Without hesitation, I started moving.

I flash stepped through the edge of the battlefield, avoiding a stray fire spell while slipping past two distracted fighters locked in combat. My focus narrowed completely onto the corridor ahead.

Then—

"Where exactly do you think you’re going?"

My body froze instinctively.

The voice wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

Every instinct in my body screamed danger the moment I heard it.

Slowly, I turned.

And immediately took several steps backward.

A man stood casually near the entrance of the corridor, blocking the path completely.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Wearing a black coat lined with dark crimson patterns.

His silver hair was slicked backward neatly, exposing sharp eyes that carried the calm amusement of someone watching prey attempt to escape.

Simon.

Simon the Slayer.

One of the Executives of the Velvet Gang.

Or more specifically—

One of the future members of the Creed.

My heartbeat immediately accelerated.

Why is he here?

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

In the original story, Simon wasn’t introduced until much later during the second major arc. By then he had already become an S-rank monster feared across entire kingdoms.

But standing before me now—

He was still younger.

Not yet at his peak.

Yet the pressure radiating from him alone made my skin crawl.

A-rank, I realized instantly.

At minimum.

The difference between D-rank and A-rank wasn’t a gap.

It was an abyss.

"Well?" Simon asked again, tilting his head slightly. "You were moving somewhere with quite a bit of urgency."

His lips curved upward into a faint smile.

Not friendly.

Predatory.

I tightened my grip on my sword instinctively.

"Well as you can see," I said carefully, forcing my breathing to remain steady, "I’m not exactly equipped with a proper weapon. And I’m fairly certain we aren’t in the same rank."

Simon laughed softly.

"So you noticed."

His eyes opened fully then.

Cold.

Sharp.

Monstrous.

The atmosphere around us shifted instantly.

The air itself felt heavier.

Fighters nearby unconsciously began backing away without understanding why.

Even the ongoing battles around us started slowing as people instinctively sensed danger.

Simon stepped forward once.

Just once.

And my body screamed at me to run.

This is insane.

I had planned around the demon.

Around the tournament.

Around the vault.

I had not planned around encountering one of the future strongest killers in the entire story while still at D-rank.

How am I supposed to compete with that?

I slowly lowered my center of gravity, entering my stance carefully.

Not because I believed I could win.

But because standing completely defenseless before someone like Simon felt even worse.

His smile widened slightly.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Even now you’re still trying to fight."

"I prefer surviving."

"A wise answer."

For a brief second, neither of us moved.

Then—

A gigantic magic circle suddenly spread beneath the entire arena floor.

My eyes widened instantly.

Dark crimson lines erupted across the ground like spreading veins, illuminating the underground arena with an ominous blood-red glow. The mana density skyrocketed violently.

Screams erupted immediately from the fighters still trapped inside the formation.

"What the hell is this?!"

"A ritual?!"

"GET OUT!"

Panic spread through the arena like wildfire.

The audience above began scrambling toward exits as security alarms rang throughout the facility.

And Simon—

Simon simply sighed.

"I suppose it has already started," he muttered casually.

His tone carried mild disappointment.

"I wanted to have some fun with the sacrifices before the ritual began."

Sacrifices.

The word sent a chill down my spine.

Of course.

This entire tournament hadn’t just been entertainment.

It was preparation.

Nearly two hundred fighters gathered in one enclosed space filled with violence, death, and mana release—

Perfect ritual fuel.

The magic circle beneath us pulsed violently.

Several weaker fighters collapsed screaming as their mana was forcibly drained into the formation itself.

Blood spread across the glowing runes.

Then Simon suddenly tossed something toward me.

I caught it instinctively.

A black badge engraved with a crimson symbol.

The Crest of the Creed.

My pupils narrowed.

"If you survive," Simon said calmly, "I’ll come looking for you."

Before I could respond—

He vanished.

No movement.

No Flash Step.

Nothing.

One moment he stood before me.

The next—

Empty air.

I immediately felt cold sweat run down my back.

Monster.

Not figuratively.

Literally.

That man was a genuine monster.

The arena shook violently.

A deafening crack echoed throughout the underground facility as the center of the ritual circle exploded upward.

Dark mana flooded the air.

Then something began crawling out from within the formation itself.

A clawed hand slammed against the arena floor first.

Massive.

Blackened.

Covered in crimson veins pulsating with demonic energy.

Another hand emerged moments later.

Then slowly—

The creature pulled itself fully into the world.

Everything stopped.

Fighters froze.

Audience members screamed.

Even hardened criminals backed away in absolute terror.

The demon stood over three meters tall, its distorted humanoid body wrapped in hardened crimson flesh resembling natural armor. Jagged black horns curved backward from its skull while molten-red eyes scanned the arena hungrily.

The pressure radiating from it alone was overwhelming.

Mid-tier demon.

A genuine Mid-tier demon.

My body locked up instinctively.

Fear.

Pure biological fear.

The kind humans weren’t meant to overcome easily.

In the game, seeing this scene through a screen had never properly conveyed it.

But standing before an actual demon—

I finally understood.

This wasn’t some fantasy monster.

It was a predator.

A superior species.

The demon slowly turned its head.

Its burning eyes landed on the nearest fighter.

And smiled.

The next second—

The fighter exploded into blood mist.

Screams erupted immediately.

"RUN!"

"MONSTER!"

"HUNTERS! SOMEBODY GET HUNTERS!"

Complete chaos consumed the arena.

People pushed each other desperately toward exits while others died before taking three steps. The demon moved casually through the battlefield, every swing of its claws reducing fighters into mangled corpses.

And I—

I stood frozen for one brief moment longer.

I’m supposed to become stronger than this, I told myself.

Not later.

Not eventually.

Strong enough to survive this world.

Strong enough to survive the disasters coming.

Strong enough to save the people who died in every route of the story.

But right now—

Standing before an actual Mid-tier demon—

I was weak.

Terribly weak.

The realization burned worse than fear itself.

The demon’s gaze shifted toward me suddenly.

My survival instincts screamed instantly.

I turned and ran.

Not out of cowardice.

Not entirely.

But because surviving came first.

Always.

I flash stepped forward repeatedly, forcing mana through my legs while sprinting toward the eastern corridor leading deeper into the Velvet Gang base.

Behind me, the demon roared.

The sound shook the underground facility itself.

And somewhere high above the arena, hidden within the shadows overlooking the battlefield—

Lillith watched everything unfold with horrified crimson eyes.

Especially the moment the demon looked directly at Kael.