The Grand Hall was no longer a room. It was a meat grinder.

BOOM!

My shotgun roared, obliterating three Imps that had leaped from the balcony. Their small bodies disintegrated into gore, but the mist of blood only seemed to excite the swarm behind them.

Skitter. Skitter. Skitter.

"They're too fast!" Alicia screamed, swinging her wand like a baton. A whip of fire lashed out, severing the wings of an Imp mid-air, but another one latched onto her leg.

"Get off!"

She kicked it away, but the creature took a chunk of her stocking—and a strip of skin—with it.

"Ah!"

"Close ranks!" I shouted, reloading with practiced desperation. My hands were slick with sweat and demon blood. "Don't let them surround us!"

We backed toward the heavy oak doors, but the horde was endless. The Rift pulsed, vomiting out dozens more every second.

[Outside the Mansion – The Plaza]

The horror wasn't contained in the mansion. The Imps had spilled out through the windows, swarming into the park like a plague of locusts.

"Help! Please!"

A wealthy merchant, too slow to run, tripped over a cobblestone.

Before he could stand, a red blur landed on his back.

Crunch.

The Imp didn't stab him. It bit him.

Its jaw unhinged, clamping down on the man's neck. A spray of arterial blood painted the pavement.

"AGHHHHH!"

The scream was cut short as three more Imps descended. One grabbed his hand, gnawing through the fingers with needle-teeth like it was eating a chicken wing. Another ripped his ear off with a wet tear.

It was primal. Brutal.

Unlike the Orcs, who crushed you instantly, the Imps ate you alive.

Kael watched the scene from fifty meters away, helpless.

"Damn it!"

He swung his sword, cleaving an Imp in two, but his arms were shaking. His mana was dry.

"Kael! Behind you!" Mariella shrieked.

He turned just in time to catch a jagged dagger on his hilt. He kicked the Imp away, but he was panting.

Everywhere he looked, civilians were being dragged down. The beautiful CrystalVale had become a banquet hall for demons.

***

"We have to close the Rift!" I roared, blasting a path through the swarm. "If we don't close that Gate, the entire capital will be overrun!"

"We can't!" Celestia yelled back, her voice cracking with despair.

She unleashed a cone of frost, freezing a dozen Imps, but the ice cracked under the weight of the ones behind them.

"My mana isn't strong enough to seal a dimensional tear! We need a Grand Mage! Or a Holy Relic!"

"We have neither!"

I checked my ammo.

[Shells Remaining: 4]

I looked at the Rift. It was widening. The red light was getting brighter.

A larger claw—something bigger than an Imp—was starting to push through.

We were going to die here.

"Lucien," Lyriana whispered. She was standing behind me, holding a small dagger with trembling hands. She wasn't looking at the monsters. She was looking at me. "Save yourself. Take the girls and—"

"Don't talk stupidly," I snapped, racking the bolt.

I aimed the shotgun at the ceiling.

"If we're going to die, we're taking this whole building down on top of us."

I prepared to shoot the support pillars. It was a suicide play, but it would bury the Gate.

But before I could pull the trigger…

The air changed.

It wasn't the smell of sulfur. It wasn't the heat of fire.

It was pressure.

A sharp, cutting pressure that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

VMMMMMMM.

A sound echoed from the sky—a high-pitched whine, like a jet engine spinning up.

The Imps stopped screeching. They froze, their animal instincts screaming a warning.

I looked up.

Through the shattered windows, beyond the violet barrier that caged us… I saw a star.

A green star falling from the heavens.

It hit the apex of the barrier.

CRAAAAACK!

There was no explosion. Just the sound of something absolute breaking.

The massive violet dome that covered CrystalVale—a barrier strong enough to withstand siege magic—didn't just crack. It shattered.

It disintegrated into millions of particles of light.

And through the rain of mana, a single strike descended.

[Grand Sword Art: Tempest Severance]

A colossal blade of green wind aura—easily fifty meters long—sliced through the sky.

It cut through the roof of the mansion like it was paper. It cut through the swarm of flying Imps. It slammed into the ground outside, sending a shockwave that knocked every standing demon off its feet.

BOOM!

Dust and debris filled the air.

Silence fell over the Grand Hall.

The Imps cowered, shrinking back toward the rift.

Through the hole in the roof, a figure descended slowly, floating on a current of wind magic.

Crimson cape fluttering. Silver armor gleaming. A rapier held loosely in one hand, glowing with a terrifying emerald light.

She landed softly between us and the horde.

She didn't look at us. She looked at the Rift.

"Filthy things," she muttered.

Her voice was calm, cold, and utterly terrifying.

Instructor Samantha.

The Platinum Rank Knight. The Wind shear of the Empire.

She flicked her wrist.

Swish.

A crescent of wind blade flew from her rapier.

It wasn't a large attack. It was precise.

It sliced through the twenty Imps standing in the front row. Their heads slid off their necks in perfect unison.

Instructor Samantha's arrival didn't just turn the tide; it broke the dam.

With the barrier shattered, the sound of war horns echoed from the perimeter.

Rumble. Rumble.

The ground shook as the heavy iron gates of CrystalVale were smashed open. A flood of steel poured into the park.

"FOR THE EMPIRE!"

Knights bearing the crests of Ashborne, Solmere, Belmont, and the Imperial Family charged in. It was a chaotic, beautiful stampede of armored horses and mana-infused blades.

They didn't hesitate. They rode straight into the swarm of Imps.

Squish. Slash.

Lances skewered the small demons. Swords decapitated them. The Imps, terrifying against unarmed civilians, were nothing more than pests against fully armored knights.

But the nightmare wasn't over.

SCREEEE!

The Rift in the Grand Hall was still open. Even as the knights slaughtered the vanguard, more creatures clawed their way out—Hellhounds, Gargoyles, things with too many eyes.

"It's not stopping!" Alicia shouted, blasting a gargoyle out of the sky. "They're infinite!"

"Not for long," Lucien spoke as he saw a group of mages at the entrance.

"Make way for the Enchanters!"

A specialized unit of mages in white and gold robes rushed in, flanked by tower-shield guards. They didn't carry weapons. They carried heavy, glowing staves and scrolls.

Imperial Sealing Corps.

They surrounded the Rift, slamming their staves into the ground in unison.

"Bind!"

Golden chains of pure light erupted from the floor, lashing out like vipers. They wrapped around the tear in reality, tightening, pulling the edges together.

KIEEEEK!

The demons on the other side screamed as the door began to slam shut. The void resisted, the pressure cracking the floor tiles, but the Enchanters held firm.

"SEAL!"

With a blinding flash of white light, the golden chains constricted.

SNAP.

The Rift vanished.

The oppressive red light faded, replaced by the natural sunlight streaming through the hole Samantha had cut in the roof.

The connection to the Demon Realm was severed.

The remaining monsters, cut off from their mana source, shrieked in confusion.

"Clean them up!" a Knight Captain roared.

What followed wasn't a battle. It was an extermination.

****

Twenty minutes later, the fighting had stopped.

I holstered the Benelli M4 back into my inventory and began the walk back to the VIP area.

The park was silent, save for the weeping of survivors and the orders of the medics.

I walked down the main avenue of the Entertainment District. It was a ruin. The colorful stalls were smashed. The cobblestones were slippery with blood.

I looked down.

Near a popcorn stand, I saw the body of a woman. She was dressed in common clothes—probably a nanny or a maid. Her throat had been torn out. Beside her lay a half-eaten bag of candy.

Further down, a man lay twisted at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide with frozen terror.

'This is reality.'

I stepped over a pool of blood, my expression hardening.

In Asteria Online, this was just a background texture. Dead NPCs were just assets to set the mood. You walked past them to get to the loot chest.

But here? The smell of iron was overpowering. The flies were already gathering.

For a second, a cold thought gripped my chest.

'That could be me.'

If I hadn't leveled up. If I hadn't bought the shotgun. If I had been just a little slower.

I could be the one lying there with my eyes eaten out by an Imp.

'Could I have done more?'

The thought bubbled up. If I had warned the Academy sooner? If I had ambushed Silas before the ritual started? Maybe this woman would be alive.

I stopped. I closed my eyes and crushed that thought instantly.

'No.'

I shook my head, opening my eyes. The cold, pragmatic light returned to them.

'Self-doubt is for heroes. Guilt is for the weak.'

I was a villain. I was Lucien Ashborne.

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