FINALE

With the Demon Slayer gripped tightly in his right hand, Leon gave the towering frost giant a brief, cocky smirk as he looked up at the colossal blue figure. The smirk vanished in an instant as realization hit him like a cold wave.

Wait a minute… something’s wrong here, he thought, eyes narrowing. I can’t sense any kantar from it whatsoever. What’s up with that?

He raised his guard just in time—the giant’s massive fist swept through the air with terrifying speed and precision. Leon dodged with effortless grace, the blow missing by inches and shattering the frozen ground into a crater, sending razor-sharp ice shards flying like shrapnel.

Looks like I can’t hold back full power from the get-go.

His kantar ignited violently. It boiled upward in a red-hot surge, crimson heat radiating from his skin in visible waves. His pupils vanished completely, leaving only glowing yellow sclera. Veins bulged across his neck, arms, and chest as he strained against the overwhelming demonic energy threatening to tear him apart.

With gritted teeth and visible effort, Leon reversed the Demon Slayer blade and drove it straight into his own chest.

A massive wave of blinding red light exploded outward, swallowing the battlefield in searing radiance. The light carried raw, primal heat—melting nearby ice into steam, scorching the air, and shaking the frozen ground. When the blinding radiance finally faded, Leon stood transformed.

Crimson scales covered his ash-colored skin like living armor, shimmering with an inner fire that made the surrounding frost retreat. Long, red-scaly wings unfurled briefly before folding downward along his back—draped over his shoulders and torso almost like a long leather jacket, loose and flowing, the tips trailing near his knees in a dramatic, cape-like sweep. A fresh, jagged circular scar now burned bright yellow on his chest—the self-inflicted wound from the blade still glowing with residual power and radiating faint heat. His eyes shone pure yellow, pupils gone.

Fully in control, Leon smirked and pointed at the giant.

In a low, groggy, demonic voice—somehow still cheerful and carefree—he spoke.

“Give me your best shot.”

The giant, already weakened and enraged, threw a heavy punch. Leon caught it with a single finger.

He feigned a yawn. “That’s weak. Even Tobi can do better than that. You sure you’re a frost giant?”

Then he moved—practically teleporting—appearing directly in front of the giant. With a casual flick of his finger, he sent the nine-foot titan flying backward, crashing through ice formations in a storm of debris and frozen dust.

Leon spread his wings and flew after it, catching the giant by the ankle mid-air and slamming it back into the ground with earth-shattering force. He leaped away dramatically, crouching low and clapping his hands like he was calling a puppy.

“Come on, get up, get up. I haven’t even seen you create ice yet.”

Enraged, the giant rose slowly. It conjured two massive ice spears in its functioning arms and hurled them. The projectiles blurred into streaks of frost, trailing freezing mist that crackled in the air.

Leon dodged the first casually and caught the second mid-flight with one hand. He hurled it back faster than the giant could react—piercing its right eye with a sickening crunch.

The giant’s scream shook the realm—a horrible, guttural wail that cracked the frozen ground and sent fissures racing outward.

Leon bounced on his toes, grinning. “Come on, you can do better than that. I know you can.” He gestured with both hands. “How about we try again, huh?”

The giant roared. Veins throbbed across its head and arms. The temperature plummeted again—snow turning to razor-sharp ice, skies darkening further. Then, shockingly, it began to shrink.

It compressed down to roughly six-foot-two—human height. Skin shifted from bright blue to deep midnight blue. Damaged arms merged with the healthy ones, becoming thicker and more muscular. Light-blue vein patterns spiderwebbed across its body. Its eyes glowed blinding white.

And it spoke—calm, ethereal, almost regal.

“You are the first person from this world to push me this far—to force my body into this state naturally. I can only achieve this form when pushed to the brink of death, or when instinct tells me death is near. I commend you, mortal… but now… you die.”

It dashed forward.

Leon countered its punch with one of his own.

Their fists collided.

Blackness spread across Leon’s hand—his wrist down turned to stone, all feeling gone.

He leaped back, staring at the petrified limb. “Wow… that was something.”

He touched the stone arm. Then grinned.

Red lightning crackled across it. Kantar surged, healing the damage in under two seconds. His arm returned to normal, scales gleaming.

The giant attacked again.

Leon dodged narrowly. Okay, game’s over. I need to end this quick. One hit in a vital spot and I’m toast. If I lose consciousness in this form, I’ll go wild and destroy everything. Gotta finish it fast.

He stomped the ice ground.

Bazookas—dozens, like a small army—materialized from nowhere. They fired in unison, rockets slamming into the giant in a deafening barrage that lit the darkness like fireworks.

Leon closed the gap. Steel gauntlets and boots manifested over his arms and legs. He unleashed a barrage of punches—each one sparking with electricity, shocking the giant’s body and leaving scorch marks on midnight-blue skin.

He finished with a kantar-enhanced uppercut that sent the giant flying back several meters.

Leon dashed after it, leaped high, spun like a propeller—wings supporting his rotation, turning him into a red hurricane. He slammed through the giant’s chest, exiting the other side in a spray of frozen blood and shattered ice.

He landed, drew a desert eagle from his coat, pointed it at the back of the giant’s head, and pulled the trigger.

The giant collapsed, dead. Heart and lungs lay exposed on the ice.

The crimson sky returned. Ice and snow vanished completely.

A blue ball of energy—almost like a flame—hovered above the giant’s corpse.

Leon hesitated, staring at it from a distance. What the hell is that?

Hannah’s weak voice cut through. “Idiot—grab it before it vanishes!”

Shocked by her tone, Leon snatched it without thinking.

The flame absorbed into his body.

His devil form shifted again.

Wings shortened slightly, stretching upright on his back. A long tail emerged from the base of his spine, coiling to the ground. Scales darkened to midnight blue, skin shifting to match. Eyes turned pure black. The chest scar glowed light blue. Ice spread from his feet across the ground.

Leon looked at Hannah, surprised.

She gave a weak laugh. “Yup… monsters from the Old World like him—when they die, their core of power can be extracted. Make contact before it vanishes, and you gain its powers.”

Leon returned to human form, hair still white. He walked to Hannah, crouching beside her.

“You good?”

Hannah nodded, strained. “Yeah… I’m good. But I’ll need some time to recover. That thing was something else.”

Leon chuckled. “Yeah, these Demon Lords really are something.”

Meanwhile…

Bayonetta—back in her true form—was covered in wounds and blood. Her eyes bled, unnaturally dim; she had overexerted them. Shu stood opposite, equally battered—no longer in Kantar Manifestation, barely on his feet.

He prepared his final attack.

Bayonetta raised her hands in surrender. “Okay… I give up. You win. All the other Demon Lords are dead anyway, and I’m not looking forward to joining them just yet. Besides… my vision is all fuzzy now.”

She collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

“I don’t even sense the kid’s kantar anymore. It’s like he’s already been taken away from the Demon Realm.”

Shu froze in shock. He tried to sense Hanz—nothing.

He dropped his guard, turning his back. “I guess we’re done here then.”

Bayonetta chuckled weakly, playful. “You know… I wouldn’t mind ending up with someone like you. You’re fun.”

Shu ignored her. With the last of his kantar, he teleported to where Hannah lay.

Leon glanced over in surprise. “You too, huh? These Demon Lords really are something else.”

He placed hands on both Shu and Hannah, funneling his kantar into them. “Well, judging by the fact no one is coming for us anymore, I can guess things ended well on your end too.”

Shu didn’t reply—he was out cold.

Hannah, with the boost, regained a large chunk of strength. She looked at Leon. “Hey… where’s Hanz?”

Leon kept channeling. “Oh, I took him back to the temple before I came here. Tobi’s looking after him.”

Hannah grunted in relief. She finally noticed Leon’s hair. “Got time to bleach your hair too?”

Leon laughed. “It came with actually activating my demon mode fully when I fought Lucius. Went back to normal, and my hair stayed white.”

Hannah nodded. “Also… you stabbed yourself before transforming. I’m guessing the Demon Slayer weakens the demonic curse too?”

Leon nodded. “Yeah, it does. Against Lucius, when I was running wild, he deflected one of my attacks back at me. The sword pierced me. Guess it was strong enough to weaken the curse enough for me to use it to my advantage. Don’t know why I never thought of doing that before, actually.”

After healing them enough, Leon used the Demon Slayer to open a portal back to the temple.

Everyone reunited.

TEN YEARS LATER

One fateful evening, a rift tore open in a random alley in Pata City—between the human and demon realms.

Marcel staggered out, holding a glowing blue orb. His robes were ragged and tattered, skin pale and frail. His hair had turned pure white, all pigmentation lost. Each step looked like agony.

When the Demon Lords died, all his seals had released at once. His mind was free, but his body couldn’t handle the sudden power surge. It tore him apart from the inside. Only his hybrid kantar healing—faster than most purebloods—kept him alive.

He walked toward the city lights, slow and determined, clutching the stone.

“After I’ve killed enough people… I’ll have enough souls to power the stone and restore me back to normal. Then… I’ll kill everybody. Everyone who wronged me will pay. Doesn’t matter if it’s past or future—they will all pay.”

Meanwhile, Hanz—now twenty-three—had taken up the responsibility of protecting the human realm. Hannah and Shu were off researching in the celestial realm—trying to understand how beings from the Old World, or even before the current reset, could still exist. Leon had been taken by his sister Page to research how to use and enhance his demonic powers with minimum risks.

Hanz worked as a bartender at a popular joint in the city. Two reasons: extra money, and an easy place to gather news.

Tonight, the hottest topic among customers was the recent deaths.

Hanz walked past a table where a woman was animatedly explaining to her friends. He set down an extra drink. “It’s on the house. I’ve been hearing about this killer a lot lately. I’m kinda spooked myself. Mind telling me the details so I know which places to avoid?”

The woman—tipsy and loose-lipped—grabbed the drink. “It’s been happening on Mangrove Street—you know, the one with the most folks in the city. The killer’s way is pretty grotesque. From the carcasses, it looks like he rips out their hearts and takes them with him. All the bodies have one thing in common: only damage is a hole in the chest, hearts missing.”

She took another sip. “Stay away from there, I tell ya. The scene will give you nightmares.”

Hanz nodded politely. “Thank you for the warning, madam. I’m very grateful.”

He returned to the counter, finished his shift, then geared up in his combat tracksuit and headed to Mangrove Street. Senses sharp, he scanned for foreign kantar.

It didn’t take long.

He locked onto a signature—strangely similar to his own. Hybrid.

Using a technique he’d learned from Shu, he teleported to the source.

There he was.

Marcel.

Ragged, on the brink of death, but unmistakably him—holding a fresh heart.

Hanz stared, mouth open. His inner demon grinned. So he’s still alive after all. Good. We can have a friendly sibling showdown.

Hanz finally found his voice. “Marcel… you’re the killer? Why?”

Marcel turned from his bloody victim, heart still in hand. A small smile crossed his lips.

“Oh… I thought I’d run into you eventually, brother.”

He kicked the body aside, placed the heart into the stone. It radiated blue light and absorbed the organ.

The pulsing glow intensified.

Marcel was fully restored. Hair long to his shoulders, covering one eye—black again. Facial features and body nearly identical to Hanz. He wore a black corporate shirt unbuttoned to the chest, fitted black pants, black-white shoes—likely taken from a victim.

Hanz looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean ‘sacrifices’? These people had families, loved ones… and you killed them without mercy.”

Marcel stared straight into his brother’s eyes. “Families? Loved ones? Am I supposed to understand what those words mean?”

He moved—practically teleporting. His arm plunged deep into Hanz’s gut.

Hanz coughed blood.

Marcel continued, voice low and venomous. “How exactly am I supposed to know what those words mean? You see, brother… while you were raised here in the human world, I was trained as a soldier in the demon world the moment I was able to walk.”

He gritted his teeth, stabbing deeper. “I was stripped of my mind. I was stripped of control over my body.”

He pulled his hand out, blood dripping. “I will have my revenge, brother. Anyone who gets in my way will die… including you.”

He stepped into a rift and vanished.

Hanz stood stunned, clutching his wound—but determined.