Chapter — The First Agreement
Serin's POV
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a mattress in Mira's room.
My body felt heavy—like every bone had been melted and reforged overnight.
The smell of tea drifted from the dining room. By the time I walked there in my original form—small, graceful, and unmistakably non-human—Mother was already setting the plates. Eron sat rigid in his seat, eyes hollowed from crying.
Mira leaned forward suddenly when she noticed me.
"Mom… did you find Ryn's fox yesterday?"
Mother hesitated.
Her hands tightened around the cup.
"No. I couldn't find the fox Ryn kept. Maybe she ran during the chaos… I'm sorry."
My chest tightened for a moment. Mira, Eron, Mother—they still didn't know. Ryn had kept my true identity secret, as I wished.
Mother exhaled softly. "Ryn always had a good pick… even in his teachers."
I lowered my eyes, because I remembered the day I chose him—I picked him, not the other way around.
"Please don't say that about him lightly," I murmured. "I was the one who accepted him as my disciple."
Silence filled the room again. Quiet, trembling grief.
After breakfast was cleared, I drew Mother and Eron closer. My voice dropped into the stillness.
"When we destroyed the barrier," I began, "Ryn's body took in more mana than a human vessel can endure. When mana surpasses the capacity of flesh, the body disintegrates back into mana and air."
Mother gasped. Eron's grip closed into a fist.
"But the soul does not vanish so easily," I continued. "The Lunaris contract… the bond I placed on him… still flickers faintly. His soul-core exists. Displaced. Unanchored. But not gone."
I took a slow breath. "There is hope. But we must wait."
Eron wiped at his eyes, torn between relief and terror.
A knock came. Firm. Official.
Mira hurried back with someone behind her.
It was Lina father—the old man Ryn once told us stories about. The man whose daugther had saved his life during the early days. Behind him stood an elite escort.
He bowed deeply.
"We come bearing grief for the boy who fought beyond reason," he said, voice rough. "And with a message. The Demons have called for a diplomatic meeting. One hour from now."
I felt Mother stiffen beside me.
I nodded. "We will be ready."
Union Council Hall
The hall was thick with tension. Representatives of 195 nations filled the ringed chamber. The elites stood behind them, silent.
I remained beside them in my commander's uniform—no disguise, no human pretense.
A whisper spread the moment someone recognized my insignia:
"Lunaris… one of the last…?"
I ignored it.
A tear ripped open the air.
Through it stepped the Demon General—humanoid form, crimson eyes, long black hair. Two elite demons flanked him.
He created a throne out of obsidian and jagged demon metal with a gesture. It formed beneath him like a living beast.
He rested one dagger across his knee.
"Humans," he said calmly, "here is your path.
Sign the treaty:
—We use your resources.
—We train your mages, novice or elite.
—We support each other in future wars.
Refuse, and we will conquer, then do the same."
A ripple passed through the room.
I stepped forward.
"This treaty is not one-sided," I said quietly. "Demons do not waste effort unless the outcome benefits them as well."
His crimson eyes narrowed.
A smile curled.
"So the Lunaris family still lives."
Gasps filled the chamber.
Some delegates stood half-rising from their seats.
I did not look at them. I held the General's gaze.
"You seek humans," I said, "because a greater threat than us hunts your realm."
He did not deny it.
The vote was cast.
Out of 195 nations, 180 agreed.
Pens scraped. Seals stamped.
History changed.
The demons attended funerals in their human forms—solemn, silent observers of rites they did not share. Ryn had no grave; only a stone marked "Body missing—soul unconfirmed.
Ah…
It hurts…
A crushing black emptiness pressed against me from all sides. There was no body, only sensation—stretching, tearing, dissolving.
Did I die…?
A voice shattered the void.
It was enormous—ten Demon Generals' worth of pressure wrapped into a whisper.
A luminescent screen appeared.
[ VESSEL: RYN ASTERIN — PHYSICAL FORM: DISINTEGRATED ]
[ LUNARIS CONTRACT HAS PRESERVED SOUL-CORE TEMPORARILY ]
[ OPTIONS AVAILABLE: ]
A) Wait for natural vessel regeneration (50–100 years)
B) Travel to a Parallel Anchor World and wait there
"Who… are you?" I whispered.
The void trembled.
[ YOU ARE NOT READY TO KNOW. ]
My choice was simple. I selected B.
Another option screen formed:
[ ANCHOR TRAVEL TYPE ]
A) Complete Overwrite — erase host soul
B) Partial Integration — coexist and share control
I chose B.
One last message flared:
[ THE CURSED WEAVER OF FALLEN TIMELINES IS DISAPPOINTED BY VESSEL'S RESTRAINT. ]
Then the void shattered.
Mana cracked like lightning.
Gravity returned.
A smell of antiseptic.
Cold sheets.
And I opened my eyes inside an old hospital room—alive, but not whole.