The moment Gid Deviluke descended upon Earth, the world snapped into a panic.
Across every continent, sirens screamed to life.
Governments went into high alert. Jets roared across the skies. Warships repositioned in nearby waters, forming barriers as if that might stop a god. Every military force scrambled to deploy, unsure if they were preparing for war—or just their own execution.
High above Tokyo, buzzing like nervous insects, dozens of reconnaissance drones circled the sky. None dared get too close to the enormous alien warship, but all tried to gather data, capture visuals, get a sense of what Earth was up against.
But nothing escaped the Demon King's notice.
Inside the ship, seated on a throne that looked like it belonged in a myth more than a warship, Gid Lucione Deviluke sat with one leg casually draped over the armrest, a single elbow propped against the side, resting his chin on his knuckles.
Power radiated off him like a second skin.
That's when one of his subordinates approached.
The alien's head was shaped like a boar's, but the rest of his body was disturbingly human. Muscular, dressed in stiff black armor, and clearly nervous.
He bowed low, sweating as he spoke. "L-Lord Deviluke! The humans are sending up drones. Reconnaissance. Shall we shoot them down?"
For a moment, Gid didn't even look at him.
When his gaze did shift—the weight of it hit the pig-headed subordinate like a hammer. The alien's knees buckled.
"Do not waste my time with flies," Gid said coldly. "I didn't come here to swat bugs."
The pressure in the air dropped like a guillotine. The pig-alien felt like he couldn't breathe.
"Y-Yes, my lord! Apologies!" He stumbled backward, practically falling over himself as he fled the throne room.
Once outside, he let out a shuddering breath, then tried to pull himself together.
"...Fine," he muttered. "He said not to waste his time. He didn't say we couldn't take care of it…"
He raised his hand and barked to the crew, "Activate point-defense systems! Blast those drones out of the sky!"
A moment later, the warship's outer hull shimmered. Dozens of hidden turrets unfolded like steel flowers. Each one locked onto a drone with deadly precision.
Then—
BZZZT—BOOM!!
In the blink of an eye, white-hot beams of light shot across the skies.
One by one, every drone was reduced to rubble. Flaming chunks of wreckage spiraled toward the ground, leaving trails of smoke behind them. The sky above Tokyo turned into a battlefield. The light from the explosions reflected in the windows of skyscrapers.
It looked like a celebration from hell.
Watching from a nearby rooftop...
Ellen clicked her tongue.
"Wow. That didn't take long."
"Aliens with zero patience. Real classy."
Karen crossed her arms, her expression hardening.
"This just made it official. Earth's governments will see that as an attack."
Yuki watched quietly, arms in his coat pockets.
The broken pieces of the drones were falling like twisted comets—metal and fire raining down over Tokyo. Civilians screamed, running in every direction as the wreckage smashed into streets, buildings, vehicles.
It was chaos.
And then—
One of the flaming chunks, larger than the rest, veered off.
Spinning. Falling.
Aimed straight at a school.
On the rooftop of a Tokyo high school...
Kurumi and Sawa stood frozen in place.
The girls had only just come up here to get a better view of the sky—curious, nervous, but still hoping things wouldn't spiral out of control.
Now?
They were staring death in the face.
A massive, burning piece of drone wreckage was plummeting toward them, big enough to crush the entire school in one hit.
"KURUMI!!" Sawa screamed. "RUN!!"
But Kurumi didn't move.
She stared at the falling debris, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.
"It's too late…" she whispered.
They had maybe four seconds left. If that.
Sawa grabbed her hand. Kurumi squeezed back.
Around them, students below were screaming. Teachers trying to herd people. But it wouldn't matter. The size of that thing—it would kill everyone within a hundred feet.
"…Should we just close our eyes?" Kurumi asked quietly.
"Yeah," Sawa answered with a weak laugh. "Maybe it'll hurt less."
They stood hand in hand, eyes shut, bracing for the end.
They waited.
One second.
Two.
Three…
But the impact never came.
Instead, the screams below slowly quieted.
And then… a voice.
Calm, smooth, warm—like sunlight breaking through a thunderstorm.
"You two planning to nap up here?"
Kurumi's eyes fluttered open.
And standing just a few steps away… was a man.
Dark hair. Slate-blue jacket draped over a black T-shirt. Tall, relaxed, and effortlessly cool. His smile was casual, but something in his gaze—those deep, ocean-blue eyes—made her heart skip.
Sawa stared too, mouth slightly open.
He looked unreal. Like someone who had no business existing in this disaster.
Kurumi blinked. "W-Wait…"
"You're alive," the man said with a small tilt of his head. "Shouldn't you be celebrating instead of fainting?"
Sawa pointed upward. "W-we were about to die!"
"Yeah. So," Kurumi blinked again, "handsome stranger… are we dead?"
"Dead? Nah."
He lifted one hand and pointed up.
The girls followed his finger.
Their eyes widened.
The massive wreckage—the thing that should have killed them—was just floating there.
Suspended in the air. Not falling. Not moving. As if time had stopped.
"...What?" Sawa whispered.
Kurumi's lips parted. "That was you, wasn't it?"
The man smiled gently. "Lin Yue," he said. "And yeah. That was me."
Then, with the slightest flick of his wrist—
CRACK.
The flaming wreckage twisted midair, folding in on itself like soft metal.
It shrank down to a ball, then a pin, then nothing—disappearing completely.
No explosion. No sound. Just… gone.
Sawa stared in disbelief. "You—what just—how did you—?!"
Kurumi wasn't even trying to hide her amazement.
She stepped forward, her eyes wide with awe.
"I don't know how you did that," she said breathlessly, "but I do know one thing."
She clenched her fists.
"Lin Yue… you're the hero I've been waiting for! The one who'll defeat those evil aliens!"
Yuki laughed softly.
Oh, right. That phase.
Kurumi's "justice obsession." Her wide-eyed belief in heroes and villains, black and white. It was cute, in a way. Pure.
But he knew where that path once led.
In another world, that same blind belief had shattered her.
Manipulated by Mio, turned into a Spirit, killing her best friend—Sawa—all because she thought it was the right thing.
What followed had been years of darkness.
A girl who smiled like spring had turned into a creature who bent time itself, stealing years and lives just to build the strength to kill the one who fooled her.
He remembered her blood-soaked hands.
He remembered her whisper: "I'm already beyond saving… but I won't stop."
It had been tragic.
And senseless.
But this time?
No.
Not on his watch.
Yuki looked at her now—this version of Kurumi.
Her braid swayed gently in the breeze. Her cheeks were still flushed from the near-death experience. She smiled, trembling slightly but still filled with light.
Not this time.
He wasn't going to let her fall into that abyss.
Not to Mio.
Not to the world.
Not to fate.