The sun was rising finally, after what felt like an eternity.
His steps were heavy, his breath uneven as he approached the shack. There, waiting in the doorway, was Saki, her arms crossed, foot tapping against the wooden floor. Her verdant eyes flickered with irritation.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, lips pursed in a pout. "I've been waiting for you all night! I knew you were safe thanks to the contractn, but still—"
Before she could finish, he seized her wrist with a sudden force that made her wince. "Come with me," he said, his voice low, strained.
"Hey, wait a—" she began, yanking slightly against his grip. But then she saw it—just for a second—the hollow exhaustion in his face. The dark circles carved beneath his bloodshot eyes, the unnatural pallor of his skin, the way his shoulders drooped as if he carried something far heavier than fatigue.
Her protests died in her throat.
"...Fine," she murmured, letting him lead her without another word.
His grip remained firm around her wrist, his pace brisk despite the weariness weighing down his body. The early morning air was cool against their skin, the scent of damp earth lingering from the night before. Saki cast a sidelong glance at him, worry creeping into her expression.
"I'm glad you got your jacket back," she noticed. After having lost his clothes during his incarceration, here he was, back with them. "Did you go back into that mansion to get it back? You should've told me. Also…" she looked down at the hand that grabbed him, furrowing her brows. "What's that glove?"
Luka didn't reply immediately, his eyes focused on the path ahead. He walked without pausing, avoiding the scattered succubi on the ground, his grip on her hand tight. "She left it in that cell with the rest of my stuff."
In truth, it had been carefully placed on the desk with a note attached to it. But it didn't matter anymore.
"She?" Saki echoed, her concern deepening.
"You'll understand soon," he sighed wearily as he continued to drag her outside, heading toward the square of the city.
Dread coiled in her stomach as she followed him through the slums. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional whisper or the sluggish movements of succubi lingering in the shadows. They were weak—hunger-ridden, exhausted—but in their eyes, there was something new. A flicker of hope.
She had heard whispers of it throughout the night while she waited for him. A spell was going to be unveiled at the square.
A spell that would finally solve their hunger.
The Dreamweavers would eat to their heart's content, their bellies full for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
Soon, she understood where they were going. The sounds of shouting, laughter, and clapping echoed in the distance, drawing her attention. As they approached, the familiar sight of the central gathering place came into view. A crowd of succubi was gathered in a large circle, their voices raised in joyous shouts and playful laughter.
This crowd was heterogeneous; both Dreamweavers and Nightlords were gathered here, mixing themselves. They all looked at the central platform, where the nameless succubus in her usual white coat was standing. Small runestones floated in the air next to air, forming a circle of light that spun slowly, indicating the spell was still under preparation.
It was truly a monumental sight for her. For the first time since they had arrived in this city, both clans were together—united under a single purpose.
But Luka didn't bother to take in the sight. He carefully walked around the crowd with her in tow until they found themselves behind the platform, right next to the queen. Perched high above the gathering on her throne, she had the perfect vantage point, overseeing every succubus present. The queen sat with an unreadable expression, her gaze sweeping over the assembly below.
Her eyes snapped to the duo, and a faint smirk curved her lips. "Glad to see you could come," she said, leaning slightly against the velvet throne. "Our mage told me your assistance in perfecting this spell has been most invaluable. Thanks to you, today, we solve the plight of our kind."
"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty," Luka replied, a thin smile curling his lips.
Saki flinched as his grip on her hand tightened—painfully so.
She turned to him, her brows knitting in concern. "Luka—"
But he didn't look at her.
His gaze remained locked onto the queen, his expression unreadable.
The energy in the square shifted. The anticipation in the crowd swelled as the runestones above the nameless succubus pulsed with an intensified glow, their spinning quickening.
It was almost time.
The queen rose from her throne, her voice booming as she addressed the gathering succubi. "Today marks the dawn of a new era!" she announced, her arms open wide in celebration. "No longer shall we be slaves to hunger! No longer shall we wither in the shadow of despair!"
Saki's chest tightened. Did they really find a way? Why didn't Luka say anything if it was already completed?
But before she could ask, a snicker escaped Luka's lips.
The cheers of the crowd roared around them, shaking the very ground beneath their feet, but he paid them no mind. His head tilted slightly downward, his bangs casting a shadow over his eyes.
Saki stiffened. Something about that laugh sent a chill crawling up her spine.
The queen, however, seemed amused. She arched a brow, her smirk deepening. "Something funny?"
Luka lifted his gaze to meet hers, his smile disappearing before lowering his head again to look at the nameless succubus instead.
"Nothing," he replied, his voice almost a whisper. His hand clenched around Saki's, his grip so tight it was almost unbearable. She let out a small, pained sound, but he didn't seem to notice. His lips parted slightly as if to say something more, but instead, he only exhaled, long and slow. Then, at last, he spoke again.
"You never intended to let the Dreamweavers benefit from this spell, did you?"
The queen's smirk didn't waver, but her fingers curled ever so slightly over the armrest of her throne. "Why, young man," she mused, tilting her head, "what a strange thing to say. This spell exists for the good of all succubi."
Luka exhaled sharply through his nose, the faintest hint of amusement returning. His grip on Saki did not ease.
His voice was calm—too calm. "If you say it exists for the good of all succubi," he echoed, lifting his gaze to her again. "Then I believe you."
For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable passed through the queen's golden eyes. But then she smiled.
Saki swallowed hard.
Luka's tone had been almost gentle, almost accepting. But something about the way he said it made her shiver.
And then there was the queen's stare. She hadn't looked away from Luka since he had arrived. That smirk—barely a twitch of her lips—never left her face.
A terrible sense of understanding settled into Saki's chest like a weight.
She was waiting for something. She was waiting for something to happen to him.
"Saki…" he suddenly whispered, a quiver in his voice. His hand, taking her, was trembling, but he didn't let go and only tightened his grip further.
"I'm sorry."
His emotions vanished into a void, leaving only emptiness in their wake. Then, beneath his breath, so soft that only she could hear.
"Control."
An incantation to prepare himself for the worst. One that left a sense of dread coursing through Saki for the briefest of moments, until—
He raised his gloved hand, fingers steady despite the tremor in his voice, and pointed directly at the queen's head. Her golden eyes widened, a flicker of realization breaking through her composure, but it was too late. The rune etched into the glove flared a vivid, angry red—a star-shaped sigil pulsing with power, amplifying his fire magic. At the tip of his index finger, a spark ignited, swelling into a molten orb of flame, small but searingly bright.
With a flick of his thumb, he sent it hurtling forward, the motion precise, lethal, perfect.
The fireball streaked through the air like a bullet, reaching the queen's head in a fraction of a second—no, even faster. It hit her before the crowd could even comprehend what was happening.
The ball exploded, engulfing the queen's head in flames and eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her, hand clawing at her head to snuff out the fire.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the succubi nearest the platform stumbled back, their joyous shouts twisting into cries of shock.
Meanwhile, the nameless succubus didn't even spare a glance at the situation. She continued to speak the incantation, her back turned to the queen.
She was too tired, and she knew what was to come.
In this land, she was given no name, no aliases, as no other succubi even cared about them. They were not humans, nor were they capable of change.
In truth, they couldn't be more different than humans. It was that fundamental difference that changed everything for her. She hated them. Hated this city. Still, she had her sisters to protect.
That was why, it was the last thing she would ever do.
But there was something she couldn't deny. Despite her bitterness, despite the disdain she had for everything around her, she still had something worth protecting. Her sisters. They were all she had left, and if it came down to it, she would sacrifice everything for them.
The circle shimmered, the spell about to break loose. Yet, in the deepest corners of her mind, a flicker of hope remained—a sliver of something, maybe even something resembling belief. She wasn't sure what she hoped for anymore, but she would see this through to the end. And in the end, it would be Luka's choice.
But her concentration broke as the sound of cries filled her ears. She saw them for a split second as she opened her eyes, the fearful looks of the succubi around her, the rage exploding from their faces.
This was it. His choice.
Luka had made his decision. This was the turning point. No more waiting, no more hesitation. It was going to end, one way or another.
Good. Despite everything—despite the horror and the loss—she was okay with this. She wanted it, too. A decisive end. A successor.
It was okay to be a monster. It was okay to mourn. It was okay to be angry. Because, deep down, she knew that nothing in this city—this fake, hollow city—was ever meant to last.
"Balweiln."
The word was barely a whisper, yet the pain it heralded was deafening. She felt it—the violent rush of wind cutting through her body. A blade, sharp as any sword, tore through her from behind, the sound of tearing fabric filling the air. Her lab coat ripped apart, the torn pieces fluttering like discarded remnants of her once-meaningful existence. Blood began to seep from the wound, hot and wet, pooling beneath her feet.
This wasn't betrayal. She had known this moment would come. It wasn't something to fight against—it was simply what had to happen. They had both come to this point, and they would both see it through to the end. Luka had made his choice—survival over neutrality. Action over inaction.
The spell he had helped weave unknowingly, the one that would seal the fate of not just this city but the whole of mankind, was now on the verge of being unleashed. A spell that would span across the entire country of Sora, bending the minds of men to the will of the succubi, enslaving them in an unending cycle of servitude to their new masters. Inspired by the King of Mages, Zaran, it combined Control magic with teleportation talismans, giving them the power to control entire populations of men, to bring them into this world—just to feed the hunger that had plagued them for centuries.
This was the solution she had devised. It wasn't about equality or compassion—it was about survival. The succubi would feed, and the men would serve. They would live as nothing more than cattle, their wills broken and their destinies sealed.
And Luka, unknowingly until now, had been a part of it.
With the spell now ready to tear through the very fabric of Sora, his decision had been made. He'd torn out the final nail from the coffin, rejecting a future where hope withered to ash.
He chose humanity.
It all happened in an instant, and now, both the queen and the nameless succubus were on the ground.
Saki stood there, too shocked to even move. Her eyes slowly drifted to check on the murderer—Luka who was showing no emotions at all, only a deep resolve burning within his hazel eyes.
The succubi guards surged forward, their shouts piercing the air as they swarmed the platform, eyes wild with fury. The crowd's joy had curdled into panic, and the square became a churning sea of rage and fear, all converging on the lone figure at its heart—Luka.
But he didn't stop there.
Now, it was just a matter of surviving this place.
Eventually, someone else would replicate the spell, eventually, they could still become dangerous. And even if he did stop this spell, his chances of leaving this place alive were slim.
So he had only one choice.
Fight.
Fight until the end, until it is done, until none of them stands. This was why he stayed awake the whole night, prepared talismans, and planted them everywhere.
On this very square, on this very platform.
He snapped his fingers, the pieces of paper stuck to the platform suddenly igniting beneath the guard's feet. They didn't have time to react as well, a deafening explosion killing them in an instant, a burst of flames surging upwards.
But those weren't the only explosions, no.
Across the city, he had planted many talismans using the same technique he had devised against Kaeris. The act of copying and pasting talismans, the act of creating so many of them with the same symbols.
A chorus of fire and destruction echoed through the streets. Fire and smoke devoured the streets, the proud Sominium Vale crumbling to rubble in seconds, save for a handful of defiant structures.
Luka stood untouched amid the carnage, his hand still clenched around Saki's, his silhouette framed by flickering flames. The guards' charred remains littered the square, and the crowd scattered, their screams fading into the roar of collapsing stone and distant explosions.
Saki stared, eyes wide with terror, the devastation unfolding too fast to grasp. This couldn't be real—it felt like a nightmare. Her lips parted to speak, but smoke seared her lungs, choking her words into silence.
Saki coughed, doubling over as the acrid haze clawed at her throat. Her knees buckled, but Luka's hold kept her upright.
She forced her eyes up to him, searching for something—anything—to explain this madness. His face remained a mask, unreadable, save for the glint of determination in his gaze. The city burned around them, a funeral pyre for the succubi's ambitions, and yet he stood as if he'd planned every ember.
He killed them all.
Not just the queen. Not just the mage.
Everyone.
"Luka…" Her voice rasped, barely audible over the crackling flames. "Why?"
A figure lunged from the smoke—a succubus with one wing reduced to bone, her remaining hand wreathed in spiraling wind. "You slaughtered my sisters!" she shrieked, tears cutting clean lines through the soot on her face.
Luka's finger rose. The rune flared.
The fireball struck center mass. The succubus crumpled mid-lunge, her body skidding to a stop at Saki's feet. One hand twitched, fingers brushing the toe of Saki's boot before stilling.
Saki recoiled. Her heel slipped in a puddle of something warm.
Don't look down.
Luka didn't look at her. "We're leaving." He yanked her forward, his grip iron. "Now."
She should've fought. Screamed. Dug her nails into his arm until blood welled under her fingertips.
Instead, her body moved on its own.
Step.
Breathe.
Step.
Don't look.
The slums were a charnel house. Buildings sagged like drunkards, their ribs exposed. The air reeked of seared flesh and molten stone. A succubus dragged herself through the rubble, her legs crushed, her claws leaving smears of red in the dirt. She gasped when she saw them—not in rage, but in relief.
"H-help—"
Luka stepped over her.
Saki's breath hitched. The woman's fingers clutched at Luka's pant leg, leaving sooty prints. For a fraction of a second, Saki thought he might pause.
He didn't.
He never did. Whenever a succubus attacked him, he shot, killing them without sparing a second glance.
Shoot, move on.
Shoot, move on.
The pattern repeated over and over, for what felt like a silent eternity, broken only by the rasp cries of death surrounding them.
The stench was unbearable—no, everything about it was unbearable.
But she followed, her fingers tightening around him. She watched him killing over and over again, his fingers growing blue from the strain of using the little mana he had. For a moment, she even thought he would die with them, but he didn't.
A succubus lay there on the ground, her eyes filled with rage, questioning why he did this.
He killed her.
A succubus darted out from the shadows, her wings tattered and her face streaked with soot, hoping not to be noticed. Her eyes widened in fear as Luka turned toward her, his hand already raised.
"Please!" she begged, her voice cracking. "I—I didn't do anything! I just—"
The spell struck her head before she could finish, the fire consuming her as she crumpled to the ground.
It was a carefully planned extinction, a plan to eradicate all the succubi in a day.
And every step, every street he came across, it was the same thing. Aiming at a running, helpless creature, shooting, and moving on.
The city burned until it returned to ash, just like the land they inhabited. This place was desolate before their arrival and would become desolate once again.
Until finally—
"It was the last one," Luka breathed out slowly as he killed another succubus that was hiding. He took in the scenery.
The remains of the Sominium Vale—a city now reduced to ash and rubble. The acrid stench of smoke mingled with the metallic tang of blood, and the distant sound of crumbling structures punctuated the silence.
It was a hard work that paid off. Now, the threat they posed to humanity was gone.
Victory, he had told himself. This was what victory looked like. Yet, as his gaze swept over the destruction—
He simply fell to his knees.
The impact jolted Saki, his sudden collapse snapping her from her daze. "Luka!" She fell beside him, hands hovering, unsure where to touch. His head bowed, shoulders trembling. The glove flickered, its rune dim, his mana spent.
She gripped his arm, shaking him. "Get up! We can't stay here!"
"Right…" he muttered, his glassy eyes looking up.
With a grunt, he stood up, aided by Saki who pulled him by the arm. When finally he stood on his wobbly knees, he looked again at the destruction.
There, at the corner of a building, he saw her. Among the ruins, despite being one of the first to have been struck by him, she stood.
Her glasses were shattered, the lenses barely clinging to the frames, and the once-pristine white coat she wore was torn to shreds, stained with the blood and ash of the city.
She was clutching her side, her hand trembling slightly. Each step she took was unsteady, as if she would fall at any second, and yet—
She walked toward him. She was broken, a mere shadow of her former self, but still she moved, determined and steady, just as she always had been.
His chest tightened, unbearably so. The Control spell he used to snuff out his own emotions disappeared, and tears began to streak down his eyes.
And so he ran. The young man leapt over the crumbled remains of the buildings, weaved through the debris, and ran as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him. His glove scraped against jagged edges, his boots kicked up clouds of sport, but he didn't care.
All that mattered was reaching her.
He wanted to call out, to say something—anything—but the words never came.
Because, of course, she bore no name. She never had one.
Her steps faltered, her body swaying slightly as she turned her head toward him. Her lips curved into a faint, almost serene smile. It wasn't a smile of joy or relief but one of quiet acceptance, as though she had known this moment would come.
Her eyes softened, meeting his one final time.
And then they closed.
She took one last step forward—light, fragile, as if gravity itself was too much to bear—before collapsing.
Luka's outstretched hands caught her just before she hit the ground, his knees slamming into the rubble painfully as he cradled her limp body.
Her weight pressed against him, lighter than he remembered. She had stopped breathing, and the only thing moving was her long hair, fluttering gently in the wind. Yet, her smile remained, unmoving, etched into her lifeless face.
This was their defeat. Humanity had won.
This is probably what she would have wanted to say.
Luka held her close, his head bowed, the tightness in his chest now a hollow ache that refused to leave.
Without another word, he stood, carrying her in his arms. Her fragile form seemed smaller now, as if she were disappearing into the world she had fought to protect.
Tears blurred his vision. But he fought them back. He had no right to cry.
With shaky legs, he turned away from the remains of Sominium Vale, its once-proud structures now nothing more than ruins of smoke and charred memories. His every step felt heavier, but he didn't stop. The faint glow of dawn was swallowed by the smoke that still choked the sky. The sun—her sun—was nowhere to be found. Only darkness lingered.
Saki followed in silence, her presence almost ghostly behind him, but Luka didn't acknowledge her. His focus was fixed on the path ahead, his mind repeating one word over and over like a mantra: her book. The words she had written in delicate ink, about a place, a sanctuary she had never shared with anyone. A place she had described with such care, the way only she could.
A cave. A small paradise in this ashen world. Not far from the city. The resting place of her sisters.
Luka didn't know how he remembered it so clearly, but the thought drove him forward.
The air grew cooler as they walked, the remnants of the city fading into the distance. His feet carried him toward the place she had described. When they reached it, the world around them seemed to breathe again. The cave opened before them, its entrance small, hidden by the skeletal remains of a once-proud tree.
The wind stirred the air, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers. Violet blooms. It was a strange thing, this splash of life in a dying world, yet the sight of them as they swayed softly in the breeze stirred something deep within Luka—something both painful and comforting, as if the world had exhaled just for him.
Inside the cave, the stone floor was cracked but still strong, and there, amidst the darkened stone and scattered ash, stood two simple tombs. Their shapes were carved into the rock, unadorned and plain. No names. No dates. No epitaphs. Just smooth, blank surfaces that told no story but their own. Silent, empty markers for souls who had long since passed.
Just like her.
Luka stepped closer, his legs almost unable to carry him anymore, but he forced himself forward, kneeling before the tombs. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he looked at the two unmarked stones.
"You said you were doing this for your sisters but…"
Did you even remember they were gone?
So he dug a third tomb between them, his hands trembling with a weariness that clung to his very bones. The soil yielded to his efforts, and when it was done, he lowered her into the ground with the same care he had shown in carrying her.
She at least deserved this. He thought. But it sounded even more hollow in his heart.
"This is unfair…" Luka gasped, his voice breaking as he let out a shaky breath. His hands hovered over the fresh earth, trembling with emotion that he couldn't suppress. "You were such a nice person, and yet—"
They couldn't exist together.
The thought slipped into his mind like a whisper of inevitability. Humanity could not coexist with succubi. Not in the way he had hoped. Not in the way he had believed when he arrived here.
"So you finally realized," Saki's voice echoed from behind. It wasn't a reproach, or even mocking, it was just matter-of-fact. "This is why I tried to stop you from coming here. But…"
"Why didn't you kill me?" he gasped, his eyes still locked on the nameless girl's corpse. "You're the last one… You could've stopped me."
"Because I have no right to judge what you just did."
Luka's hands clenched into fists, dirt caking his knuckles. He turned his head slightly, catching her silhouette against the dim sky. Her emerald eyes, shining in the dark, were soft with pity. She stood a few paces back, arms crossed, the wind tugging at her hair as the silence stretched between them.
"You're a succubus," he said, his voice low, almost accusing. "You could've fought. You could've saved them."
Saki shook her head, stepping closer until she stood beside the graves. "I'm not like them, Luka. I wasn't born here. And besides…" She knelt, her fingers reaching for his shoulders. "I chose to stay with you. So, no. I do not resent you one bit."
His eyes widened in disbelief, and his breath hitched. These eyes of hers betrayed no doubt in her words, as if nothing happened.
"What are you…" he muttered, tears spilling from his eyes as he tried to comprehend what she had just said.
"Don't worry about me," Saki said with a heavy sigh, her eyes drifting to the grave he'd dug. "Let's give her a proper burial, okay?"
Luka stared at her, the tears blurring his vision, her words echoing in the hollow of his mind. Her hand lingered on his shoulder as she began closing the hole with a frown, her expression focused.
After a while staring at her, he nodded slowly, a jerky motion, and turned back to the grave. He reached for the loose soil, his movements mechanical at first, then softening as he began to cover her. Each handful felt like an apology he couldn't voice.
Because there was no way he could apologize for what he did.
Saki joined him, her hands working alongside his.
When the grave was filled, Luka smoothed the earth with care, his fingers lingering on the surface. He sat back on his heels, staring at the three tombs. "She didn't even have a name," he whispered, his voice raw. "Most Dreamweavers didn't…"
Saki settled beside him, her shoulder brushing his. "That's right," she nodded. "Their parents usually abandoned them at birth. And they never bothered getting one."
"Violet."
"Hm?" she blinked and looked at him.
"I always… in my head…" he trailed off as he bit his lips. "I always called her that in my head. Ironic, huh?" he sniffled, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
Saki tilted her head, studying him as the name hung in the air. "Violet," she repeated softly, testing its weight. "It suits her," she smiled softly, her gaze drifting to the grave.
Luka's chest tightened, but he still picked up a small, jagged stone and began carving the name on the ground.
Saki watched him, her smile fading as soon as he wasn't looking at her.
He is human, in the end. She thought, relief coursing through her without completely washing away her earlier horror.
Luka etched the final letter, the rough "T" trembling under his unsteady hand. He dropped the stone, its clatter faint against the cave floor, and stared at the word—Violet—now etched into the soil.
It was arrogant to even consider naming her now. Hell, it felt disgusting even to him. What right did he have to name her? She had never asked for it, never needed it.
But he wanted to do it. No, he needed to do it.
Because she was the only one who ever understood him.
Saki didn't speak for a long time, and Luka didn't expect her to. There was nothing left to say.
He finally stood up, his body feeling heavier than before. His eyes never left the stone, the name he had carved into it—an act that felt both revulsing and relieving.
"You're quiet," Luka said, his voice low, pulling her from her thoughts.
She glanced at him, her expression softening. "Just… thinking," she replied, hesitating. "I'm sad."
"Why?" he asked, even though there were plenty of obvious reasons.
"Because no one will ever give you the absolution you seek," she said, her face solemn. "You're a murderer on a grand scale, Luka. That won't change."
He stared at her, tears drying on his cheeks. She spoke the truth—unvarnished, unyielding—yet one question gnawed at him: Why couldn't she avenge them? Before he could voice it, she pressed on.
"That spell was going to cause a lot of damage, wasn't it?" she asked, her face hardening.
"...Yes," he replied softy, his eyes looking at the ground. "I would've died, and so many people would've been enslaved and devoured here."
His knees buckled, tears welling anew, but Saki surged to her feet and caught him in a fierce embrace, steadying him as he faltered.
Luka's breath caught in his throat as he felt her press tighter around him, his body stiffening before he pressed his face against her shoulder. The warmth of her body clashed with the cold ache in his chest, and for a moment, he let himself feel it—the grief, the guilt he could never wash away.
Saki didn't pull away, her breath steady against his ear. "You stopped it," she murmured, her voice a lifeline in the dark. "That's what matters. Not the absolution, not the judgment—just what you did."
He clutched at her, fingers digging into her back as sobs shook him. "I killed her," he choked out. "I killed them. How can you just…?"
"Because it saved more than it took," she said, unflinching. "You're not a hero, Luka. You're not a monster either. And you should've never had to do this. But you did, nonetheless."
"Why…" his voice trembled, his tears spilling unchecked on her shoulder. "Why… hate me… I want you to… hate me."
"I can't," she admitted, a flicker of pain crossing her expression. "Because I hated them. I am…" she tightened her hold further, her tail wrapping around his leg.
"More afraid for you than anything else."