As Ibaan's body uncontrollably came to a halt near the towering wall, with nothing but instincts and despite the sharp agony in his whole body, he forced himself to his feet.

The dust in the surroundings slowly started disappearing, letting the chaos become visible to his tired eyes. The completely destroyed forest—his heart ached as he realised how beautiful it had looked when he had first arrived here. After passing through the towering walls, the shrubs, herbs, the sprouting flowers and trees—none of them were left now.

What stood before him now was nothing but torn ground, broken trunks, and wood pieces scattered across the place. The ground looked wounded, as if something had ripped the life out of it in one violent breath. The air felt heavy, empty, and far too quiet for a place that once breathed with colour.

And the sole reason was him and the filthy creature! How ironic it was! He had never expected such a beautiful place to end up like this.

However, what could he do despite it all?

Nothing! Be disappointed? Feel guilt?

Once again he remembered the very teachings of his master as well as his ancestor, the Nemesis of Angels, who had taught him that "Guilt and disappointment are cages built inside the mind. They lock only those who believe the bars are real."

Or to be more exact — the true meaning behind his teachings, since very few could ever grasp them — was simple: disappointment and guilt live only in the mind. If you never think of them, never allow yourself to feel them, then you will never be trapped by them. It was as simple as that.

Just then, Ibaan's eyes caught a dark silhouette standing far away — not too far, just a few hundred metres ahead.

The figure had two long horns stretching from the two top edges of its fist-shaped form.

Its silhouette shifted slightly, moving back. Ibaan's eyes widened as he spotted a mouth on the fist — the Menace Punch's mouth — with sharp red teeth jutting out from its dark, shadow-like body. The figure flickered like smoke, except unlike smoke, it did not fade. It stayed… only flickering.

Ibaan's heart thumped as he remembered the warning from the school's system: [...However the fist can speak and even bring madness.]

Just recalling it sent a cold shiver crawling down his spine.

And as feared — and expected — the lips of the fist curled up and spoke.

"Pathetic kid! You're goddamn pathetic, you loser, creepy loser."

Huh?

Why was the fist cursing him and calling him "pathetic" and "loser"?

To be honest, Ibaan was stunned on the spot.

Shouldn't the fist be some mad, uncontrollable being or whatever?

But this… this was just plain insulting.

Ibaan's mouth opened, closed, then opened again, words stuck in his throat.

"What… the hell are you?" he finally managed in a broken tone.

Truth be told, his heart urged him to spit out every curse he knew at this thing — the Menace Fist — but he held himself back every second… only to lose control the next.

His voice turned harsh, annoyed, his lips twisting into a smirk as he continued.

"Who the fuck are you? Who are you to dare call me a loser? You're nothing more than a tool. Do you even have the slightest idea who I am? I am the Duke of the Utopians, the disciple of the Nemesis of Angels, and I am a bloodlust. Reality bows before my blood…"

Silence filled the space between the two beings — a silence stretched by a gap too large to measure, maybe infinite, maybe nothing at all.

The voice of the Menace Fist let out a low chuckle, this time steady but dripping with humiliation. "Oho? I don't know who the fuck that bastard is, and you're no better — just another bastard. Do you have any idea who I am? Probably not. And I don't want to waste my time telling you either. Fuck off, you bastard!"

Then came a small whisper, soaked in frustration. "I thought I would dominate again… Zamn it. Zamn it. It always happens."

And with that, the Menace Fist withered into nothingness.

Ibaan was taken aback — yes, even he felt the suspense it left behind. It was oddly quiet, totally opposite of what the relic had warned him about.

'Huh? This thing is supposed to bring madness? Like seriously?' Ibaan chuckled softly as the Menace Fist vanished.

Ibaan gazed ahead at the fallen Utopian's Duke, whose red blade still flickered even after all the chaos.

He was in disbelief that he had woven something so forbidden and dangerous — something that had endured a blow even a divine sword might have shattered beneath. It looked even more special than before.

A warm smile formed on his face as he walked toward the sword and picked it up. Just as he was about to make a decision, he squinted toward the west. The Demonic Crimson Dead Eye had lowered a bit more. Time was passing — it never gave anyone a chance. Above all, it was the only justice, the only being that treated everyone equally. Not absolute, but relative — yet still above all.

"I'm already exhausted. I must take a half-hour rest."

He sighed and looked toward the slender tower far away, though now a bit closer since half the path had been cleared.

Then he turned his gaze to the normal part of the forest, which had only been slightly affected by the blow.

…

As Ibaan sat on a branch inside the forest, the place felt peaceful. Flowers had sprouted, spreading a soft and pleasant scent. Herbs, shrubs, and tall trees stood around him, untouched and calm.

He had walked a little farther from the tower area because he believed there were too many filthy creatures around it — or so he thought. He couldn't afford to waste his time fighting those things again, so he chose a quiet place where their number was small.

He wanted to check his relic status and look through the powers of his puppet before stepping into the tower to face the lord of these creatures. It had been some time since he last opened the relic. The last time he had checked it was during the Servants of Will mission, when they went to wipe out the Iron Knuckles.

***

Selpe's raven-black hair swayed in the quiet, private room in the royal city, the city above the heavens in the Great Tower that rose endlessly over the royal castle.

As she took off her training upper, her tight jersey—slightly wet from sweat—clung to her body, faintly showing her flawless skin and her bra beneath it.

She gently shook her head, letting the tiredness lingering in her mind fade away.

She walked to the table and placed the jacket on it.

The table was broad, with only a single book on it before she placed her jacket there.

As for the room itself, it was quite luxurious. She never expected herself to ever be in such a place. She kept denying the idea that one day she would stand in the Master Branch and even be Sanctified.

The room was large. A grand bed stood in the middle, luxurious as well. Two white pillars rose from the bottom edges of the bed, carved with beautiful designs. On the bed lay a pure woolen quilt that looked extremely comforting. Beside it stood a large wardrobe where she kept her clothes, along with her newly given uniform — the Sanctified Uniform — neatly placed inside.

And behind the curtains shrouding the mysterious broad windows — the ones she had heard about from her fellow female Sanctified — lay a sight said to show two worlds. One side revealed the royal city, alive and full of royal people. The other side showed a snowy land where thick fog always drifted, and snow never stopped falling. It never changed. Now it was rumored to be nothing more than a simulated scene.

Almost everyone believed that rumor. But there were still a few who completely rejected it — they believed it was a divine place where only those who were perfect could enter. Perfect in every way. And currently, no one was.

She had never checked it herself. She wanted to.

With a warm smile, she walked to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. She looked through the glass. Her eyes widened as she truly saw it.

From the left broad window, there was nothing but the royal city, no matter which angle she looked from. And from the right, nothing but fog and falling snow — constant, thick, and drifting the same no matter how she tilted her gaze.

It was truly beautiful. But she wasn't overly amazed, nor did she overreact. She stayed calm and composed

....She simply let the curtains fall back into place and turned her gaze to the television standing opposite the bed. It was long and broad too.

And just then, her phone buzzed — someone was calling her.

...

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