The sky was pitch black — deep, almost liquid — yet streaked with green reflections that rippled lazily, like waves of emerald beneath the skin of the world. I had lifted my eyes despite the pain, despite the rope still biting into my wrists. The gag had long since slipped off, soaked with sweat, dust, and blood. For some reason I couldn't fathom, they hadn't bothered to put it back — maybe because they knew I no longer had the strength to do anything.

Those shades fascinated me. On Earth, I'd never had the chance to see the northern lights. Maybe they looked like this — that strange blend of darkness and living light. A peaceful spectacle above a moving hell.

For a moment, I almost forgot the burning in my back. Then reality struck, brutal.

My skin scraped against stone.

A muffled grunt escaped me, hoarse, more like an animal rasp than a human sound. My back must have looked like a field of ruins. Every bump in the ground carved a new scar, every stone stole another piece of flesh. They had been dragging me like this for hours — without stopping, without even a glance back. I'd tried, at first, to meditate. To sink into the flow of mana, to extract the faintest spark of energy, a shred of clarity. But how do you meditate when every breath burns, every jolt tears you apart?

I couldn't. Impossible.

So I gave up.

I let them drag me, face pressed into the dust, the rope biting into my wrists until they bled. What was the point in fighting? Even if I somehow managed to restore part of my mana — in this state, I could barely lift myself, let alone fight. And even if, by some miracle, I killed them all… then what? Wander through this green desert that breathed poison? Die alone, starving, in a sea of luminous sand?

No.

I preferred to wait. To watch. To understand.

I needed information, not another pointless slaughter. So I chose resignation — calm, almost ironic resignation. I took the torture like a bad train ride: shaken, exhausted, but still curious about the destination.

A rock, larger than the others, slammed into my spine.

Pain exploded — sharp, pure, unbearable.

I clenched my teeth, breath knocked out, the taste of blood on my tongue. The laugh of one of the pink creatures echoed nearby — a wet, hissing sound. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, jaw trembling under the strain.

Maybe killing them wouldn't be so pointless after all.

Another one approached.

It was there, right in front of me, massive and still, waiting for its turn like a planned execution. I could've sworn it was staring at me. Yeah, that damned rock was looking right at me — impassive, ready to welcome me into its rough embrace. I watched it come closer with each step of the beast dragging me, every jolt making it seem bigger, more menacing — the gallows itself walking toward its victim.

– "No… not that one," I muttered weakly. "Please, gods, help your son of balance."

I almost knew that bastard rock by now. After hours of being dragged across this wasteland, I'd learned to recognize its sisters: the flat ones, the sneaky ones, the sharp ones — those that hid under the dust and those that cut through flesh without warning. But this one… this one had the face of an executioner.

My back tensed instinctively, bracing for it, and I closed my eyes.

Bam.

The pain ripped through me like lightning. A scream burst out — guttural, involuntary, the raw cry of a wounded beast. The impact even lifted my chest off the ground before I crashed back down, breathless, eyes blurred with tears.

– "Fucking rock!" I growled through clenched teeth.

My echo vanished into the green desert, swallowed by the hot wind and dust.

I stayed there for a moment, panting like an animal, until my muscles decided to try again. With a clumsy motion, I lifted my head, then my torso, pushing with my elbows — my arms trembling like paper. I just wanted… to see where I was. To understand where these idiots were taking me.

And that's when I saw it.

The horizon.

A light. Then shapes.

Straight lines, regular, sharp. Towers, maybe. Metal and glass structures gleaming under the black and green sky. My eyes widened, mouth half open, breath frozen.

– "No… that's… that's not possible…"

A city. A real one.

Not a stone village, not a survivor camp — a damn modern city. And not just modern: more advanced than anything I'd ever seen on Earth. Shining domes, luminous roads, streams of energy flowing like veins through the air. It looked as if technology and magic had married to birth a miracle.

I froze, hypnotized. My heart pounded. My blood boiled with impatience, curiosity, fear too. I hurt everywhere, I was at my limit — but at that moment, all I wanted was to get up, to run, to understand where I was.

And then—

Bam.

Another rock. Again.

My spine screamed in unison; a cry slipped out despite myself.

– "I'm gonna kill every last one of you…" I hissed through gritted teeth.

Every word vibrated with murderous promise.

Next time I stood up, it wouldn't be to admire the scenery.

The sand gave way to a smooth kind of soil, vitrified, almost too perfect to be natural. Ahead of us, the ground cut off sharply — a massive chasm encircled the city like a ring of darkness. It must have been hundreds of meters deep, maybe more, and only a narrow bridge of shining metal — a kind I'd never seen before — linked its edges. The place looked both inviolable and absurd, like a challenge to gravity and reason.

The pink creatures stopped before the passage. Guards awaited them, armed with translucent spears crossed by blue currents. Their armor gleamed like living glass, and each wore a featureless, polished mask. They exchanged a few words with those dragging me — their language hissed between their teeth, punctuated by metallic clicks. I tried to catch a meaning, an emotion — nothing. It was like listening to a symphony composed by a snake. Then, without another word, the group moved on, and I felt the rope tighten again.

The bridge vibrated under our steps. Below, the void. I found myself looking away, afraid the vertigo would make me throw up again. When we finally reached the other side, the light blinded me.

The city.

I wish I could say I was ready for what I saw, but no. Nothing I'd ever known — neither Earth nor this world — could compare.

Huge towers rose into the sky, some floating partly above the ground, others held by arcs of energy. Giant screens projected moving images, voices, music. The streets pulsed with constant motion — creatures of all sizes mingled in a dense, bright, living crowd. Even their clothes seemed made of intelligent fabric, iridescent, threaded with lines of mana.

I couldn't tell if it was beautiful or terrifying. Maybe both.

Technology and magic blended with unsettling elegance: wheel-less vehicles floated above the pavement, glass golems carried crates marked with runic symbols. Everything breathed modernity — but an alien modernity, inhuman, almost too perfect.

I noticed the difference between civilians and travelers. The former wore sleek outfits, like something out of a futuristic Tokyo; the latter — armed, covered in talismans and mana stones — carried that same brutal aura I knew well: adventure, blood, battle. The contrast struck me. And I found myself smiling.

On Earth, technology was life's highest value. Here, magic still ruled.

No human armor, even two centuries ahead, could rival dwarven craftsmanship. No laser rifle could match the precision of an enchanted bow. Even my kimono, worn and dusty as it was, regenerated on its own and hid a dimensional inventory. So yes… their technology was impressive — but not invincible.

And yet, an idea crossed my mind.

A suit, cut in their sleek style, but woven with magical resistance. A mix of class and power. I almost shivered. I could already picture myself, back with the girls, flashing a smug grin, tailored suit, cocky stance — the hero of two worlds.

– "Yeah… that'd look good," I muttered under my breath.

I turned my head, distracted — and caught a gaze.

A young girl, smaller than the others, walking beside her mother, her tiny hand in hers. But unlike the rest, she wasn't pink. Her skin shimmered emerald-green under the artificial light. Her eyes, though, were the same as theirs — amber, strangely human.

I wondered if she was a different species, or just a variation of the same. Their diversity reminded me of tropical fish — vibrant, beautiful, but dangerously alive.

She stared at me with innocent curiosity. I met her gaze and, despite the pain crushing my back, managed a small wave — wrists still bound.

She smiled timidly and lifted her hand in return.

But then her mother appeared — a woman with a sharp, severe beauty. Her eyes met mine — cold, filled with silent contempt. She yanked her daughter aside and hissed in a harsh voice:

– "Did I not tell you never to look at the living deads? They always try to charm you before they eat you!"

I froze, breath stuck in my throat.

The living Dead.

Ah, so that's what I was now. Not even human anymore — just a dangerous Dead, a piece of talking flesh to be watched. Lovely.

I chuckled inwardly.

Can't wait to get that suit, I thought, looking away.

My eyes drifted toward a massive screen hanging above the square. Images flashed rapidly, accompanied by a warm, lively female voice.

– "CoverImperfection — hide your flaws."

I raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

An advertisement.

Yeah, that was a freaking ad.

I stood there, dumbfounded, a nervous laugh bubbling in my throat.

Well, guess marketing hasn't evolved much.

But then the next line froze me.

– "Product approved by the Seventh Demon Queen — Valentine, herself."

I thought I'd misheard.

– "What?"

Seventh Demon Queen?

I stood motionless, unable to tear my eyes from the screen. My heart pounded too fast.

– "What… what the hell…"

I straightened a little, the rope cutting into my wrists.

– "What's going on here…?" I whispered.

The smile on the screen lingered — radiant, unreal — as the name "Valentine" pulsed across the glass.

And for the first time since my arrival, I felt fear return. Not the fear of dying — something far worse: the fear of understanding the truths this world was hiding.

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