"Eduction is not learning of the facts, but the traning of the mind to think."
-Albert Einstein
A low, mechanical hum resonated across the vast open plains, the golden sunlight casting long shadows as drones swarmed through the sky like a colony of relentless insects. Their synchronized movements formed an intricate search pattern, scanning every inch of the barren landscape with cold, calculating precision. Each drone bore the insignia of The Star Chasers, a notorious faction known for their unyielding pursuit of their targets.
"Captain, we've lost 127 drones so far. The cause remains unknown."
Inside a makeshift command tent nestled amidst the tall grass, Captain Marissa sat at the center of a high-tech surveillance hub. Multiple monitors flickered before her, reflecting the countless perspectives of the drones patrolling the skies. Her second-in-command, Kaiser, stood beside her, gripping a handheld device as he relayed the grim report. His headset crackled with static, a subtle reminder of their diminishing control over the situation.
"It seems the Overlord is already aware of our presence," Marissa murmured, her voice laced with frustration.
Kaiser swallowed hard. "He's always been wary of us, Captain."
With a slow, deliberate movement, Marissa leaned back in her chair, exhaling as she lit a cigar with a flick of her lighter. The embers glowed eerily against her sharp gaze, her thoughts weaving through a complex web of strategy and caution.
"The Crimson Overlord is not someone to be underestimated."
Her voice carried a weight that made Kaiser's breath hitch slightly.
"His intellect rivals that of Lord Elard himself. And when it comes to strategy, cunning, and foresight…"
She took a slow drag from her cigar before continuing.
"It's almost as if he possesses knowledge of events before they unfold. His execution rate is nearly flawless—90%, if not higher. Every move we make, he's already accounted for it. He is the one obstacle that has kept us from obtaining the Hollow Star."
Kaiser removed his headset, rubbing the back of his neck as a bead of sweat traced a slow path down his temple.
"I've heard countless myths about The Crimson Overlord…" he muttered, almost to himself.
Marissa arched an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing him to continue.
"They say he's not just a man but a force—an entity born from the fusion of seven ancient Demon Lords. The collision of their souls created an existence beyond mortal comprehension. Garth, Lyon, Opell, Ayak, Zorg, Hendrick, and Levia… Each of them was a nightmare in their own right. Together, they ascended through the lower worlds, conquering planes one after another, their mastery of Mathix bending reality itself."
"Their mastery over Mathix was so complex, so unfathomable, that it operated under laws beyond mortal comprehension. They could warp reality, bending impossibilities into tangible existence. Their conquests were relentless, consuming plane after plane in their ascension toward absolute dominion."
"But their hunger was insatiable," he continued, his voice lowering. "They desired more—something beyond mere conquest. So they devised a ritual, one that required the ultimate sacrifice. They relinquished their physical forms in an attempt to reach Horizon."
Marissa's gaze darkened.
"A common ambition among Demon Lords," she muttered. "After conquering the Ascending Planes, they always set their sights on our world. To them, it's nothing more than a grand dungeon—one final challenge before transcending into something greater. But never… never has it been attempted by seven of them at once, merging into a single vessel."
"And nobody foresaw the catastrophe that followed," he said. "Our world was not prepared for the existence that emerged from that ritual."
His fingers curled into a fist.
"On the night of the Crimson Moon… the seven Demon Lords ceased to exist as individuals. Their essence intertwined into one singular being—The Crimson Overlord."
The mere mention of the name sent a chilling silence through the tent.
"Nature itself recoiled at his birth," Kaiser murmured. "A cosmic imbalance unlike anything ever recorded."
"But even then," Marissa interjected, flicking the ash from her cigar, "his reign was short-lived."
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
"The First Lady, Eve, was the only one capable of sealing him away. It took her over five million and six hundred thousand commandments—an unthinkable level of Mathix mastery—to lock him within the Endless Abyss."
Kaiser shuddered.
"Terrifying… but expected from an old hag who dwells in her personal realm, Hadimuza, surrounded by millions of her so-called 'children'…"
Marissa exhaled another plume of smoke.
"But the seal was not permanent."
She crushed the end of her cigar into the ashtray, the embers fading as if mirroring her next words.
"He returned. Not as his true self, but as a fragment—a shadow of his former might."
She clenched her jaw, eyes burning with a familiar fury.
"Lord Elard has clashed with him countless times. And each encounter… ended without a clear victor."
A long pause followed.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she added,
"I encountered him once, ten years ago."
Kaiser's breath caught in his throat.
"The Arcane City Incident," he realized. "When the entire city—and its surrounding regions—were nearly erased from the map…"
Marissa's fingers dug into her chair's armrest.
"The day he killed my father."
A fragmented memory surged to the surface—
A world drenched in monochrome.
The deafening roar of fire consuming buildings, the acrid stench of smoke choking the air. Skyscrapers crumbled like fragile sandcastles, debris littering streets soaked in blood and rain. A massive crater—five miles in diameter—scarred the heart of the city, as if the heavens themselves had forsaken this place.
Amidst the wreckage, a lone girl knelt beside the lifeless body of her father. His hand, still warm, rested against her cheek as silent tears fell onto her lap.
And beyond the destruction, standing at the center of it all—
A figure engulfed in seething black flames, their crimson eyes radiating an unnatural, otherworldly glow. Their presence was an anomaly, a distortion in reality itself.
The ships of The Star Chasers loomed above, their weapons primed. Blinding beams of light surged toward the figure—
And then—
Darkness erupted.
A single surge of abyssal energy swallowed the sky, blotting out the heavens.
Ships fell like dying stars.
And in that moment, as the girl raised her tear-streaked face to the entity before her, she saw—
The cosmos.
Not flesh. Not shadow. But a body of black smoke within endless galaxies, void of color, filled with planets, stars, and universes spiraling within its very being.
Pure, unfathomable darkness.
The black flames stretched toward her—
And just as the ships crashed around her, the memory shattered.
"Captain."
Kaiser's voice jolted her back to the present.
"The scan is complete. I've pinpointed the coordinates of our targets."
Drones buzzed back into the tent, their luminous screens flashing the data they had gathered.
Marissa blinked, refocusing her thoughts. Then, rising from her chair, she nodded.
"Good. Pin point the location or any trace's, I'm going outside."
Kaiser opened his mouth to acknowledge the command—
And then he hesitated.
His gaze flickered to the chair she had just left.
Charred. The armrests were marked with burns that hadn't been there moments ago.
His stomach twisted as he senses the heavy harted coming from her.
Meanwhile, Marissa stepped out of the tent, the last remnants of her cigar burning with an unnatural glow.
"I won't let you get away this time."
She whispered it to the wind, her eyes smoldering with rage.
Elsewhere—
The warm sun beat down on the open clearing, its golden rays casting a soft glow over the stretching fields of green. The wind carried the distant hum of nature, rustling the tall grass as if whispering secrets between the blades.
In the midst of this tranquil scenery, Tekka strained beneath an ever-growing pressure, her arms trembling with exhaustion as sweat dripped from her brow. She was doing push-ups, her breath coming in ragged pants—but the weight on her back made the exercise far more grueling than it should have been.
Sitting cross-legged on top of her, completely at ease, was Zane. His dark eyes studied the horizon, his expression one of casual amusement as he observed her struggling beneath him.
"Wow… you're surprisingly strong," he mused, resting his chin in his palm. "You really are… a different kind of specimen."
Tekka let out a groan, gritting her teeth as her arms wobbled. Her sweat soaked through her black tank top, dampening the fabric as she forced herself to keep going.
"H-How much longer?!" she gasped. "I've been doing this for twenty minutes already!"
Zane smirked but didn't look down at her. "Five more minutes."
Tekka grumbled under her breath, but she kept pushing herself, her muscles screaming in protest.
Zane, however, had already shifted his focus elsewhere. His mind wandered as he observed the distant landscape, his senses expanding beyond the immediate area.
"She's making good progress, but the Star Chasers are closing in."
"I need to hide her… but do I have the time?"
"No. I can't waste time. But I also can't let her meet them yet. She's not ready."
Just as he was lost in thought, something shifted in the air—a sudden, almost imperceptible rumbling in the nearby bushes.
Zane's gaze snapped toward the disturbance, his senses sharpening. A small, hooded figure stepped out from the dense undergrowth, its movements quiet and deliberate. In its tiny hands, it held a broken collection of drones—the remnants of the Star Chasers' surveillance units that had been eliminated earlier.
Zane raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed.
"Ah, so you took care of them like I asked," he murmured, his tone flat. "At least you're good for something."
The hooded figure said nothing, merely retreating back into the shadows.
At that moment, Tekka's arms finally gave out. She collapsed onto the grass with an exhausted gasp, sending Zane tumbling off her back with a light thud.
"Ugh… good job," he remarked dryly.
Tekka lay face-down in the grass, her chest heaving as her arms felt like jelly. "Never… again," she muttered weakly.
She remained like that for a few minutes, sprawled across the field as she tried to catch her breath. Eventually, she turned onto her back, staring up at the sky. The clouds drifted lazily overhead, but she barely noticed them—her body was still recovering from the brutal workout.
Zane glanced down at her, his expression thoughtful.
"Good job, girl," he said. "Where does all that talent come from?"
Tekka exhaled sharply, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "When I was eight, my grandma forced me to train every single day for three hours straight. Said I needed it since I was failing at sports at the time."
Zane chuckled, intrigued by the little glimpse into her past.
Before she could say anything else, a towel landed squarely on her face, casting a shadow over her vision.
She peeled it off, sighing loudly as Zane stood over her.
"Clean yourself up," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Because you're going on your very first mission."
Tekka's exhaustion vanished instantly.
"R-Really?!" she gasped, her eyes lighting up with pure excitement.
In one swift motion, she sprang up, nearly knocking Zane over as she leaned in inches away from his face. The sheer enthusiasm radiating from her was enough to make him take a step back.
He raised a finger, pressing it against her forehead and gently pushing her away.
"Yes," he confirmed. "I'm sending you somewhere to awaken the Mathix within you."
Tekka's eyes widened even further, her hands clenched into excited fists.
"Buuuuuutttt…" Zane added, dragging the word out.
Tekka froze. "…But?"
Zane crossed his arms, his tone growing serious.
"This isn't just any mission. I'm sending you to a dungeon. A very dangerous one. It's filled with traps, monsters, and… human eating Manticore's."
Tekka's enthusiasm skyrocketed again—until she suddenly stopped mid-thought.
"…Wait, what was that last part?"
Zane completely ignored her. "We don't have time to waste. We need to get you some gear before we go."
Without warning, he grabbed her by the sleeve and took off at full speed, dragging her along behind him.
"W-WOAH! NOT SO FAST!!" Tekka screamed as her feet left the ground, her body flailing like a flag in a storm as Zane dashed toward the nearest village.
Tears flew from her eyes due to the sheer wind pressure.
The village was bustling with life, a melting pot of various species and cultures. Ethereal fairy-like women in flowing white dresses hovered above the cobblestone streets, their delicate wings fluttering in the sunlight. Anthropomorphic beasts, towering and muscular, moved through the crowds, their deep voices booming in conversation.
Tekka's eyes sparkled as she looked around—this was exactly the kind of place she had always read about in books as a child.
Their destination, however, lay ahead—a large blacksmith's forge built from obsidian stone. The doors were nothing more than heavy black curtains, and the interior was sweltering, the air thick with heat from the roaring furnace.
Inside, the rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed through the dimly lit room.
At the heart of the workshop stood a middle-aged woman, her muscular arms hammering away at a slab of red-hot iron resting on an anvil. Sparks flew with each strike, scattering into the air like fireflies before fading.
She lifted her goggles, revealing striking amber eyes and a smudge of black dust across her cheeks. A broad smile spread across her face as she turned to face them.
"Zane!" she beamed. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Binjoe!" Zane grinned, stepping forward. Without hesitation, the two embraced, slapping each other on the back in a show of camaraderie.
Binjoe's gaze then shifted past Zane, her eyebrow arching as she caught sight of Tekka—who was still fixing her windblown hair.
"And who's this?" she asked, her hands on her hips.
"This is Tekka Ishuna, an acquaintance of mine," Zane replied.
Binjoe's skeptical expression was unmistakable.
"Uh-huh," she said, dragging out the syllables. "Acquaintance, huh?"
Zane frowned. "What's that tone supposed to mean? I don't like that tone of you now."
Binjoe smirked. "Nothing, nothing. Just that… she's a real cutie, is all."
Tekka's face flushed red.
"T-Thanks…" she mumbled, caught completely off guard.
The forge's heat pressed against their skin, the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal filling the air. A faint scent of burning coal and molten iron lingered, mingling with the scent of oil and sweat.
Binjoe wiped a streak of soot from her cheek and exhaled heavily, setting her hammer down before placing a firm hand on her hip. Her amber eyes, sharp with years of experience, flicked between Zane and Tekka before she finally spoke.
"Name's Binjoe Callen. I've been the blacksmith of this town for forty-five years." Her voice carried the weight of age-old craftsmanship, tinged with both pride and exhaustion. "Zane here… he's done me a fair number of favors in the past. I owe him, and I don't forget my debts."
Zane crossed his arms, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "About that," he said smoothly, tilting his head. "I've got a favor to ask of you."
Binjoe raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Zane gestured lazily toward Tekka. "I need a gear set for this 'cutie' here. She's going to need one if she's heading into the Imperial Dungeons."
Tekka immediately froze, her face turning a deep shade of red. The word "cutie" echoed twice in her mind, and her hands shot up to cover her cheeks.
"S-Stop calling me cute!" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling forge.
But before she could dwell on her embarrassment, something else caught her attention. She frowned, turning to Zane. "Wait… did you just say 'Imperial Dungeons'?"
A shiver ran down her spine at the name alone.
"That's the dungeon I'm supposed to go to?" she asked cautiously in her mind
The name itself sent a wave of unease through her. Imperial Dungeons… It sounded like something out of a brutal survival game—like one of those unforgiving, high-difficulty levels where even the weakest enemies could tear you apart.
She gulped. "I… really don't like the sound of that."
Binjoe let out a heavy groan, rubbing her temples.
"I hate to break it to you, Zane, but I don't have the materials to forge a new set right now."
Zane's smirk disappeared instantly. "What?"
Binjoe sighed, crossing her arms. "The Star Chasers have been placing heavy orders with every blacksmith in the country. They need materials for their ships and whatever new weapons they're working on."
Zane's expression hardened. "New weapons?"
Binjoe exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "You know how much I need the money, Zane. The work is exhausting, but refusing them isn't exactly an option. The Star Chasers have too much influence on this side of the country."
Her voice wavered slightly. She bowed her head, her hands tightening into fists.
"I'm sorry, truly." She hesitated, then added in a quieter, almost pleading tone, "But if you could… do your thing… I'd really appreciate it."
Zane groaned, rolling his eyes. He clenched his jaw before extending his arm toward an empty part of the room.
"Print."
His voice was sharp, commanding.
Almost instantly, a holographic display flickered into existence—a shifting Mathix of numbers, symbols, and glowing formulas cascading through the air. Within seconds, the digits distorted, twisting and morphing into a solid mass of raw material—piles of iron, leather, and various alloys clattering onto the forge floor.
Tekka's jaw dropped.
"W-WOAH!!" she yelped, stumbling back slightly. "Did you just… create material from numbers?! That's insane!"
Binjoe smirked, kneeling down to inspect the newly-formed resources. "Heh. That's one of Zane's many talents." She gave the pile a firm nod of approval before glancing up at Tekka. "Only a genius like him could manipulate the Mathix to this level."
She let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Too bad I don't have the brains for it. But if I can't use Mathix, then I'll put my strength to use."
With that, she abruptly yanked Zane closer by the shoulder, playfully nudging his cheek with her knuckle.
Zane's expression immediately turned deadpan, an irritated sigh escaping him.
"Tch." He groaned in clear annoyance, enduring her affectionate roughhousing like an older brother tolerating a younger sister's antics.
Tekka watched them, something tightening in her chest. The easy familiarity between them, the way Binjoe teased him so naturally—it was… endearing.
And for some reason, it made her a little jealous.
She looked away, awkwardly tugging on her bangs to hide the slight blush on her face.
Zane finally had enough. He huffed, wrenching himself free. "Will you just make her the damn gear already?!"
Binjoe grinned. "Alright, alright. Give me a few minutes."
When Binjoe finally finished, Tekka stood in front of a large, dusty mirror, admiring her new battle-ready look.
Her hands were now protected by sleek black gloves, reinforced with iron plates on the back. Shoulder guards of the same metal fit snugly over her frame, and leather straps secured them in place, running down to connect with her iron-reinforced kneecaps.
For her attire, she had been given a form-fitting black sweater and matching trousers, with a dark green belt wrapped firmly around her waist.
Tekka's eyes sparkled.
"Wow, a whole new makeover!" she cheered, turning from side to side to admire the craftsmanship.
Binjoe placed her hands on her hips, looking pleased with herself. "Yup. The clothing is high-quality—resistant to both physical and elemental damage."
Tekka turned toward Zane expectantly. "Well? What do you think?"
Zane rubbed his chin, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. His expression was unreadable. He remained silent for a moment longer than necessary, as if analyzing every detail figuring Tekka's body which is comparable between an athlete or a hourglass figure.
Then, without hesitation, he deadpanned:
"If I'm being totally honest… I think it makes your butt look even bigger than it already was."
Tekka froze.
Her mind shattered.
Binjoe immediately snickered, covering her mouth with her fingers.
Tekka's entire face turned scarlet, her jaw dropping in absolute horror.
"Y-YOU—!!" She pointed a trembling finger at Zane, her voice caught between a scream and a squeak.
Zane, as usual, looked completely unbothered.
"What? You asked for my opinion."
Tekka's entire body trembled. Her fists clenched.
"D-DON'T SAY STUFF LIKE THAT, YOU BIG PERVERT!!!"
Her screech echoed through the forge, sending a few tools rattling on the nearby workbench.
Binjoe was practically cackling at this point.
But beyond the forge's stone walls, hidden among the shadows of the dense forest, cold mechanical eyes watched.
"We've found them, Captain."
Kaiser sat in his dimly lit chamber, eyes locked onto the large screen. The drone's feed displayed Tekka, Zane, and Binjoe in perfect clarity.
"The Hollow Star Hostess… and what appears to be the Crimson Overlord."
His voice carried a note of unease.
From behind him, a tall figure stepped forward, the glow of the screen reflecting in her piercing violet-red eyes.
Marissa
Her lips curled downward in a slow, simmering expression of hatred.
"Are we going to move in?" Kaiser asked.
Marissa's gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching Zane as old memories flickered through her mind—bitter, painful memories.
"Not yet." Her voice was cold, unwavering.
Her fingers curled into a fist.
"Let them think they're safe. Observe where they're headed."
Her eyes darkened.
"Then… when they least expect it…"
She exhaled slowly, her voice dripping with venom.
"We strike."