The night wind swept through those working tirelessly, sweat glistening under the weight of their responsibilities. A night of bloodshed was not limited to the place where Evan had transmigrated—it unfolded across the world.
Was this the fate of those caught between the Contractor and the Hierophant?
Fighting for their lives and the ideologies they upheld.
Far from the battlefield where Magnus and Agnie clashed, a group of knights clad in thick armor surveyed the forest with piercing gazes. Their armor bore a striking resemblance to the gallant warriors of the medieval era, a time when knights stood at the height of their glory, embodying the dreams of many.
Behind them, a modest defensive encampment had been set up as a precautionary measure.
One of the knights stepped into the soldiers' camp.
Inside one of the tents.
"What's the situation outside?"
The captain, seated at the far end of a table, spoke.
On the table, a detailed map displayed the castle where the laboratory was located, along with the surrounding forest.
The knight who had just entered responded in a formal tone.
"It's bad, Captain. A red mist has spread across a 500-Ferr(meter) radius of the forest. We've lost contact with both Hierophants. Captain, what are your orders…?"
Seated on either side of the table, several knights bearing insignias of rank listened intently. Some were dressed in formal, lavish attire, while others wore white robes reminiscent of sorcerers.
The one referred to as Captain by the knight closed his eyes. Several people sitting beside him glanced at their Captain with peculiar expressions.
"Hmm… Should we move and take them down?"
One of the knights seated at the table to the Captain's right spoke up.
The Captain slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp yet calculated. Under the dim light of the lantern hanging in the corner of the tent, his face appeared older than his actual age, etched with the weariness of endless battles.
He let out a quiet sigh. The report he had just received was far worse than he had anticipated.
The red mist. The disappearance of two Hierophants.
This was no trivial matter.
In a world where Hierophants stood as the Church's vanguard, losing two of them in such a short time meant they were facing an opponent that could not be underestimated.
The Captain's hand extended, his fingers tapping slowly against the wooden table. The rhythmic sound echoed through the tense silence, as if marking the passage of time toward the inevitable decision he had to make.
Then, he finally spoke in a heavy voice.
"We can't afford to move recklessly in a situation like this. Without enough information, launching a direct attack will only turn us into the next prey."
Several knights around the table exchanged glances, their expressions reflecting a mix of dissatisfaction, concern, and understanding.
A knight in a white cloak, likely a Magister, raised an eyebrow before speaking in a skeptical tone.
"Captain, this mist is clearly not a natural phenomenon. It could be the effect of high-level magic or something even more dangerous. If we don't act quickly, we might lose our initiative."
The Captain shifted his gaze toward the Magister, but before he could respond, another knight from the opposite side of the table interrupted.
"And acting recklessly will only make things worse."
The knight who spoke was a man with a silver badge on his chest, signifying his status as the First Knight.
"We've already lost two Hierophants. If even they couldn't make it out of that mist, what makes us think we'll fare any better?"
The discussion inside the tent grew more heated.
Outside, the faint sound of breaking twigs and the scrape of armor could be heard, a sign that the soldiers remained on alert despite being unable to hear the ongoing debate.
The Captain knocked on the table again, this time harder.
"Enough."
The atmosphere inside the tent grew silent once more.
He swept his gaze across the room before continuing.
"We won't launch a direct assault, but we won't sit idly by either. Send out a reconnaissance unit to gather more information about this fog. If possible, locate both Hierophants. But if not…"
He took a deep breath.
"…we must be prepared for the worst."
The First Knight gave a slow nod, while the Magister let out a sigh, still seeming half-dissatisfied with the decision.
The Captain then turned his attention to the knight who had just given the report.
"Prepare the reserve forces and maintain the perimeter. If anything emerges from that fog, I want us ready to face whatever comes."
The knight straightened his posture and saluted.
"Understood, Captain!"
With that, the orders were set in motion.
But even with a cautious strategy, they all knew…
That crimson fog was no ordinary phenomenon.
And tonight, they might witness something that should have remained buried in the darkness.
***
The night sky hung dark and heavy, its stars obscured by a crimson mist that seemed to breathe, pulsing like a living entity creeping across the land. The scent of iron and damp earth merged into one, blanketing the barren forest that had borne witness to the brutal battle that had unfolded moments before.
On the shattered, blackened ground—scarred by explosions of energy, two figures lay motionless.
Divine Paladin Agnie, once revered as a pillar of justice for the Church of the Gods, now lay still, her sacred armor cracked and marred with wounds. Her golden eyes, once burning with unwavering determination, had dulled, stripped of the divine radiance that once coursed through her. A gaping wound remained in her chest, where a blade had pierced through, and slowly, her blood seeped into the ground, merging with the restless red mist that coiled like hungry hands.
Not far from her, Magnus, the Contractor clad in a raven mask, also lay still. His body barely stirred, save for the occasional twitch of reflex, his breaths shallow and fragile, like a candle flickering in the wind. His short sword remained embedded in Agnie's chest, driven deep between the plates of her armor. Behind his mask, blood trickled from the corner of his lips, his eyes shut, his consciousness teetering on the edge of life and death.
Yet, amidst this silence, the crimson fog began to stir.
Crack… crack…
A strange sound echoed, like bones splintering and flesh twisting in ways they shouldn't. The ground beneath Agnie's lifeless body pulsed, as if something was moving within it. Divine energy and existential energy still lingered in the air, clashing in resonance, distorting the very space around them.
Then, from within the mist, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps broke through the stillness.
A silhouette emerged.
A pair of glowing red eyes pierced through the darkness, locking onto Magnus, who lay powerless on the ground.
Someone or something had arrived.
"And tonight, the crimson fog shall claim another."
Magnus groaned, his voice weak.
His trembling hand reached out, trying to grasp Agnie's cold fingers.
Swoosh—
But it was too late. The silhouette consumed Agnie's corpse, swallowing it into the depths of the Crimson Fog. The lingering Divine energy in the air slowly faded, overtaken by the spreading waves of existential energy. This was the undeniable sign of a Contractor's victory over a Hierophant.
The crimson fog spiraled wildly, thickening until the very air seemed to weigh down on Magnus's existence. And then, from within the swirling mist, something emerged.
A tall figure, gaunt and skeletal, like a corpse dragged back from the grave. His flesh, raw and exposed, pulsed with strange, writhing veins. His grin stretched far too wide for any human. Hollow black eyes bore into Magnus, while a pair of broken horns crowned his head.
He was the Accord 8 form of the Pact Crimson Demon.
He was Magnus's own Dark Manifestation.
And he laughed.
"Ahaha... Finally, finally! You did it, Magnus!"
His voice was raspy, echoing as if carried from the farthest corners of the world.
"You drove your sword through the heart of the woman you loved. You tore apart the one thing most precious to you. Now, you are worthy of becoming me!"
Magnus gritted his teeth, his hands clawing at the ground as if he wanted to crush the very world beneath him.
"Shut up…"
He muttered.
The silhouette didn't care. It crouched down, leaning in closer, almost brushing against the raven mask he wore.
"Why do you sulk? Isn't this the path you chose? Didn't you already know this was the only way to rise?"
Magnus slowly lifted his head. Behind his mask, his eyes burned red with a storm of emotions.
"I… never wanted this…"
"Nonsense!"
The demon's voice burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.
"You knew this would happen! You knew that to reach Accord 8, you had to sacrifice what was most precious!"
Magnus fell silent.
"You knew! And you still went through with it!"
His fists clenched, his body trembling.
"I… had no choice…"
The demon growled, its hand grasping at its own face as if trying to contain something clawing its way out.
"No choice? No choice, you say?"
It whispered, its voice seeping into Magnus' mind like poison.
"Don't blame fate for what you chose to do, Magnus."
The voice wavered… not with anger, but with deep, aching disappointment.
The bloodied silhouette stood, gazing at Magnus as if looking at a creature beneath him. His dark, hollow eyes, like gaping voids in reality, now glinted with something unexpected. Contempt.
"So this is the end result?"
His voice was a low hiss, trembling between frustration and disgust.
"I… had high hopes for you."
Magnus panted, still kneeling on the frozen, blood-soaked ground. The hands that once held Agnie with warmth now trembled at his sides. He didn't want to hear this.
But the silhouette did not stop.
"After all this, after you ascended to Accord 8… you're still trying to deny it?"
The demon swung his hand through the air, and the crimson mist around them stirred violently, responding to his emotions.
"I thought you were better than this, Magnus."
"I didn't—"
Magnus tried to speak, but the voice cut him off.
"No choice? Didn't want this? Don't make me laugh!"
The demon lowered his head, shoulders shaking.
"You sacrificed the person who mattered most to you… and you don't even have the courage to admit you wanted it?"
Magnus clenched the earth beneath him, his back hunched under the weight of it all.
"I…"
"You're weak."
Magnus flinched.
The demon stared straight at him, those abyssal eyes piercing into him, tearing through every pretense, every justification he had tried to build.
"If you were truly strong,"
The demon's voice softened, almost a whisper… but that only made the words cut deeper.
"You would accept your fate without needing an excuse."
Magnus said nothing.
"You killed her. That's a fact. You knew this was the only way. That's a fact."
The demon raised a hand, pointing directly at Magnus' chest—at his heart.
"So why are you still rejecting what's already happened?"
Magnus shut his eyes, teeth chattering under the unbearable weight.
And the demon chuckled softly.
"If this is how you face reality…" he whispered, "then you don't deserve to be me."
As those words echoed, Magnus felt something begin to shift.
Something terrifying.