Some days later....
The mission had gone smoothly—too smoothly, like every other one. Draven and his squad had cleared the portal in record time. The boss had fallen, the remaining demons wiped out with near-perfect precision.
Minimal damage was recorded. A textbook victory.
Draven stood quietly at the center of the battlefield, eyes cold and distant. His teammates were behind him, laughing, cheering, and congratulating each other. But Draven's gaze lingered on the spot where the boss demon's hulking body had fallen.
Something was off.
"The same thing over and over again," he muttered under his breath. "Where's the challenge anymore?"
Then he noticed it—the body was gone.
His heart tensed. Before he could react, a sudden wave of dark, suffocating aura exploded through the field. The sky above darkened slightly, and the cheerful mood shattered like glass. A loud crack echoed.
"Captain!" Lyra screamed, but it was too late.
The enormous demon reappeared behind her, its hulking form emerging from a tear in space like a nightmare reborn. With a roar that shook the ground, it slammed a massive arm into her side. The force sent her flying across the field, crashing violently against a shattered wall. Blood sprayed mid-air.
"LYRA!" the team screamed in unison.
Draven's eyes widened. He hadn't even sensed the demon's movement—it was that fast.
He bolted to her side, kneeling beside her. Her breathing was shallow, her ribs crushed, blood running down her side.
"Hang on, Lyra," he whispered, his hands glowing faintly with light magic as he tried to stabilize her pulse.
"You'll be okay. Just hang on."
Turning to the others, his voice hardened. "Get her out of here. Now. That's an order."
"But Captain—!" one of them protested.
"Go!" Draven snapped, eyes glowing gold with fury. "This one's mine."
As the squad retreated, carrying Lyra away, Draven turned toward the beast. It stood still, its massive body pulsing with black energy and rage. Its eyes locked onto Draven's with something new… awareness. And then—
The transformation began. Black veins surged across its muscular frame. Its body convulsed, shrinking, compressing, reshaping. Bones cracked, flesh twisted. Within moments, the towering monster was gone.
In its place stood a slender, humanoid figure, no taller than Draven himself. Its skin was pale, its face almost beautiful, but in an eerie, lifeless way. Its eyes glowed a soft crimson, and a twisted grin curled on its lips.
"Smaller…" Draven muttered. "But stronger. This thing isn't done."
The aura that radiated from the creature was overwhelming. Compact. Refined. Every fiber of Draven's being screamed that this form—this new evolution—was the real threat.
"Now we fight for real," Draven said, his golden aura flaring to life.
Draven's golden aura flared to life, flooding the battlefield with a blinding radiance. The ground beneath him cracked under the pressure of his power. Light magic surged around his body as he raised his hand, conjuring a radiant sword, forged entirely from pure energy.
His squad had already withdrawn, carrying Lyra's wounded body to safety. She was still breathing—but barely. The demon, once a hulking monstrosity that stood like a corrupted titan, now stood much smaller… lean, humanoid, yet no less terrifying. It didn't look like something that had shrunk—it looked like something that had evolved. Its body had refined itself. Its aura, once wild and chaotic, now pulsed with an eerie control. It tilted Its head slowly and stepped forward. Then, it opened its mouth.
"Kh… kha… kehh…"
The noises were garbled, broken, like a distorted radio signal trying to form words.
Draven's eyes narrowed. "What… are you doing?"
The creature stepped forward again. Its crimson eyes locked with his.
"K… ki… kill…"
The voice was clearer now. The way its lips moved—it was learning. Mimicking. Trying to communicate.
"Kill you… kill them all… destroy… all…"
Draven's grip tightened around his sword.
"It's talking…?" he muttered. He stared at the demon in disbelief, watching it take one step after another with unnatural calm.
"You can talk now?" he asked, louder. "Demons don't talk. They scream. They rage. But they don't speak."
No response.Just that smirk. Draven's expression hardened.
"What the hell are you?"
A quiet pause hung between them, broken only by the distant crackle of flames and debris still settling.
The demon's voice dropped to a low, guttural whisper.
"Evolve… adapt… destroy…"
Draven's heart skipped a beat.
"They've never done this before. They didn't evolve. They didn't think. This… this is new."
He recalled how the demon had vanished from its corpse-like state after the first battle. How it reappeared and struck Lyra faster than his eyes could follow. How it changed forms before his very eyes.
"It's starting now… the real threat. This didn't exist in the early days. It's happening in our time…"
He clenched his jaw.
"So you're the first, huh?" he said, lifting his sword and leveling it toward the demon.
His golden aura intensified, spiraling upward like wildfire.
"Fine. Let's write the first chapter in your extinction."
The demon didn't wait. With a sudden burst, its black aura exploded out like a sonic wave, and it lunged forward. Draven charged at the same time, golden streaks following behind him like divine comets.
BOOM!
The collision shook the street.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three strikes echoed through the battlefield as sword and claw clashed. The sheer force of their blows shattered concrete and tore through the air. Every move was too fast for the untrained eye to follow. They moved like gods in a storm of light and shadow.
Draven skidded backward, breathing heavily, eyes sharp.
"It's matching my speed? Blocking my attacks?" He couldn't believe it.
"Demons were never this fast. Never this precise."
The demon stood across from him again, its black aura rippling like a flame in the wind. It raised its hand and mimicked a mocking bow.
Draven glared. "You're not just evolving…"
He slowly pointed his blade forward, eyes burning.
"You're learning. And I'm the wrong person to test that on."
Scene: GSSA Medical Facility – Emergency Wing
The double doors of the emergency wing flew open with a loud bang as Draven's squad burst in, their boots pounding against the tile floor. Lyra lay unconscious in Kaine's arms, her entire left side bloodied and torn. Her skin was pale—too pale. Her armor was cracked open where the demon's blow had landed. Blood still leaked between Kaine's fingers.
"We need a trauma team now!" Hana screamed, her voice cracking with panic.
Doctors and medics rushed forward, already pulling gloves on and barking orders. A hover stretcher slid in, and Kaine gently placed Lyra onto it. Her head lolled to the side, unmoving.
"What happened?" the lead doctor snapped, eyeing the severity of the wounds.
"A demon blindsided her… high-tier, possibly Sentinel+ level," Kaine said quickly.
"It was a clean hit. She hasn't woken up since."
"Internal bleeding, multiple fractures… vitals are crashing," one of the medics muttered as they rolled her away.
Mira stood frozen, trembling. Her lips quivered as she spoke.
"She… she was just standing there. Celebrating. And then…" "Then he came out of nowhere,"
The doctor turned, her face tight with urgency.
"We'll stabilize her, but I'm telling you now—we don't have the resources to heal injuries of this scale. We need a high-grade healing hunter. If she doesn't get one soon…"
She didn't finish the sentence. "No," Kaine whispered. "She's strong. Just… just keep her alive. Please."
They watched helplessly as the stretcher disappeared through the ICU doors, the red emergency light flashing above it. Mira pressed her back to the wall, covering her mouth with her hands as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Alen stood beside her, staring blankly at the doors, fists clenched.
"We should've seen it… we should've—"
"No one saw it coming," Kaine cut in, his voice low and grim. "Not even Captain."
There was a heavy silence. Then Alen spoke again.
"Where is he now?"
"Still fighting," Kaine replied. "Alone."
And somewhere, not far from them, a storm was still raging
[Scene: The Final Clash Begins]
Draven's eyes narrowed as the demon's aura surged wildly. Amidst the chaos of their brutal fight, he spotted it—three glowing cores pulsing within the demon's chest, back, and head.
"Three... cores?" Draven muttered under his breath, stunned. That wasn't supposed to be possible.
The demon grinned, its skin pulsating as it shaped weapons from its flesh. Hooks, blades, jagged edges—living, shifting death. Draven locked in immediately, light arrows blazing from his hands, beams searing through the battlefield, but nothing stuck. The demon danced through them all, adapting, learning, matching him blow for blow.
Draven gritted his teeth. He darted forward with sword drawn, clashing steel against twisted flesh. Every strike met resistance. Sparks flew. His blade met the demon's organic weapon—something like a hooked sword—and narrowly blocked an attack that nearly took his eye.
"Tch... this thing is relentless, " he growled. The demon laughed—no, it screeched, a sound that echoed across dimensions. It lunged, raking its claws down his chest. Draven countered, slicing upward in a blinding arc, but the demon twisted unnaturally, stabbing him in the side. He gasped, blood erupting from his mouth.
Still, he stood. Trembling. But something felt wrong. "Why... why can't I move my legs..."
His body refused to respond. The edges of his vision darkened.
The demon tilted its head, baring its teeth in amusement. Poison. That blade wasn't just sharp— it was toxic.
It raised its malformed weapon high, snarling: "Die."
As it descended, something inside Draven shattered—and then exploded into light.
A roar burst from his lips as he caught the blade in one hand, his aura exploding with a radiance unlike anything before. Even the demon flinched.
Draven's LUMINARA surged beyond normal limits, purifying the poison, healing his body mid-battle. The ground cracked beneath his feet. He rose with flames of light in his eyes.
"You're not killing anyone today."
Strike after strike, he pushed the demon back. His attacks had changed—deeper, sharper, focused. The demon was fast, but he was faster now. He hit all three cores in a matter of seconds, light blades piercing them simultaneously.
The demon shrieked as its body convulsed and disintegrated into ash. The portal behind it collapsed. Draven exhaled slowly—then collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
[Scene: Lyra's Treatment]
At the medical base, Lyra lay on a bed soaked in blood, barely breathing. Her teammates stood frozen, pale, helpless.
"She's losing too much blood! Her vitals are crashing!" a doctor shouted.
"Where the hell is the advanced healer?!"
Just then, a calm voice entered the room. "I'm here. Move."
A tall man with silver hair and a glowing insignia stepped in. His presence silenced the chaos. He was dressed in black and blue, a luminous staff in hand.
"Name?" he asked.
"Lyra. Seeker-class. Gravely wounded during combat." "I'm Sage Kaine. Stand back." Kaine placed his staff gently against her chest. A soft, resonating hum filled the room. Light wrapped around her, threads of pure healing energy weaving into her flesh.
The wounds began to close. Her heartbeat stabilized.
"She's out of danger, " E finally said, breathing heavily. "But she won't wake for a while. That poison... it was mixed with soul decay. She's strong to have lasted this long."
"Thank you, sir, " one of the doctors said, eyes wide in awe.
Kaine nodded. "She's a fighter. I did what I could. The rest is up to her."
[Scene: Draven's Hospital Room]
Draven lay unconscious in the hospital for over a week. Every single day, his team—Draven, Lyra (still unconscious at first), Mira, and Alen—visited without fail. They sat by his bedside, talked to him, prayed for him, argued over who would punch him first when he woke up.
On the seventh day, Lyra woke up. She blinked at the ceiling, her voice hoarse. "...Draven?" Mira was the first to cry. Alen called the doctors. Draven just held her hand tightly.
[Scene: Draven Awakens]
Morning light streamed into the hospital room. Draven's eyes suddenly snapped open. He shot up in bed, gasping.
"LYRA!!"
Draven nearly dropped the food tray. Mira stood, stunned. Alen blinked. Lyra, still weak, turned her head. "You're awake..." she whispered, tears forming.
Draven's eyes scanned them. "You're all... here?" Draven stepped forward. "Took you long enough. You've been out for over a damn week, man." Mira wiped her eyes. "We were so scared. You collapsed. You were bleeding everywhere. No one thought you'd make it."
Alen chuckled softly, but his voice cracked. "You stubborn idiot. Even unconscious, you had to show off." Draven smiled faintly. "And Lyra...?" Lyra nodded, smiling despite her pale face. "I'm here. Thanks to you. You saved me." He tried to sit up more, wincing. Draven helped him. "The demon... it had three cores. Poisoned me. I thought I was done." "You pushed through it, " Mira said. "You broke through your limits.
You scared all of us. Even the reinforcements couldn't believe what they saw." Lyra reached for his hand. "Thank you, Draven. For fighting. For not giving up."
He looked at them all, his brothers and sisters in arms, and nodded, voice quiet: "No matter how strong they get... I won't lose any of you. Not again."
The room fell into a brief silence—then Alen smirked. "Alright, someone bring him food before he collapses again." Laughter broke the tension, and for the first time in days, hope filled the air.
Scene: GSSA England Headquarters – President's Office
The atmosphere is tense. President Charles Wycliffe sits behind a dark mahogany desk, his fingers steepled under his chin. To his right stands his assistant, Emily Thorne. Flanking the room are Wardens Marcus Hale and Victoria Marsden. A large digital map glows on the wall behind them, flickering with markers and reports from different regions.
Cedric Langley: (calm, low voice)
"The demon in Germany… it evolved in real-time. Right there on the battlefield. That's the second report in under two weeks."
Emily Thorne: (frowning, arms folded)
"Third, sir. A similar case came from Japan just days ago. I verified it myself this morning."
Marcus Hale: (growling under his breath)
"This isn't natural. Demons mutate, sure—but not like this. Not this fast, not this smart."
Victoria Marsden: (softly, but firm)
"It changed its form deliberately… crafted weapons from its limbs. It stopped fighting like a beast—and started fighting like a soldier."
Celdric: (staring at the report)
"Three incidents. Three continents. All similar patterns. If this is a mutation, it's synchronized… too synchronized to be random."
Emily:
"And the demon in Japan—Lucan Elias's squad faced it, correct?"
Celdric: (nods slowly)
"Yes. They held their own, but even their Warden reported that the creature evolved mid-battle. A Fiend… forming armor. Gaining intelligence. These aren't coincidences. They're… trials."
A knock breaks the heavy silence. A young officer enters, urgency in his tone.
Officer:
"President Langley—Draven Ashford has woken up."
All heads turn. Emily's eyes widen. Marcus grunts and straightens. Victoria's brow furrows deeply.
Celdric: (quietly, stunned)
"…He's awake?"
Officer:
"Yes, sir. Fully conscious. The medical unit confirmed it not long ago. He's stable… and speaking."
Celdric:
"…Let's go. Now."
Scene: GSSA Medical Wing – Private Room
Draven sits upright on the bed, bandaged across his shoulder and ribs, but very much alive. His golden eyes are calm and steady. Surrounding him are his squadmates: Lyra sits at his bedside, visibly relieved. Theo stands at the back with arms crossed. Nina leans against the wall near the window. All of them are focused on their leader, but the tension still lingers from the events of the past week.
The door opens. President Charles Wycliffe steps in, followed by Emily, Marcus, and Victoria. The squad stands immediately.
Squad (in unison):
"President Wycliffe."
Celdric: (nodding with faint warmth)
"At ease, Wardens."
He walks toward the bed and locks eyes with Draven. The two hold the gaze for a few seconds.
Celdric:
"Prince Draven."
Draven: (calmly)
"Mr. President."
Celdric:
"I'm relieved to see you awake."
Draven:
"I'm… surprised I am."
Charles turns to the squad.
Celdric:
"You've all done well. But give us a moment."
The team hesitates, especially Lyra, who briefly squeezes Draven's hand before standing and following the others out. The door closes quietly behind them.
Scene: Private Room – Continued
Celdric: (sitting beside the bed)
"You've been unconscious for eight days. The whole HQ's been waiting. Even your parents are on their way."
Draven: (low chuckle)
"That long, huh…?"
Celdric:
"What happened out there, Draven? Not just the battle—I want everything. What did you feel? What did you see?"
Draven: (eyes narrowing as he recalls)
"It was chaos… but it was also… thrilling."
Celdric: (leans forward)
"Thrilling?"
Draven: (nods, slowly)
"Everything was intense. But for the first time… I felt alive. Every strike, every dodge, every explosion. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't hesitant. I felt… whole."
Celdric: (carefully)
"And the demon?"
Draven:
"It smiled at me. As if it knew what it was doing. It evolved not once, but twice. It was watching, adapting… testing me."
Celdric: (face darkens)
"You're saying it was sentient."
Draven: (nods)
"Too sentient. And strong. Stronger than anything I've fought before."
Celdric: (sighs, deeply)
"That makes three cases now… and all three reports describe behavior unlike anything in our database."
Draven:
"There's something behind this. I don't think these evolutions are natural. I think… something is forcing them to change."
Celdric: (stands)
"That's what I feared."
He steps back and looks at Draven with a mix of pride and deep concern.
Cedric:
"Get your rest, Prince Draven. The real war might be just beginning."
He turns to leave.
Draven: (softly, as Charles walks away)
"President… it felt good. Too good. That worries me more than the demon itself."
Charles pauses, glances back briefly, then exits without a word.
Scene: The Next Day – Palace Courtyard
King Allistair and Queen Evellyn arrive in a sleek black car. The sun is just rising. Draven, dressed in a light coat, stands outside the hospital with his discharge papers in hand. His mother rushes to him first.
Queen Evellyn: (tearing up, embracing him)
"My son… my brave boy…"
Draven: (quietly)
"I'm fine, Mother."
King Allistair: (stern but emotional)
"You frightened all of England, Draven. But you came back stronger. That's what matters."
They guide him into the car together. The scene fades as the car pulls away, headed back toward the palace.
Scene: Inside President Cedrics' Car – Evening
The streetlights of London pass by in a golden blur. Charles sits quietly in the back seat, deep in thought. Emily glances at him occasionally but says nothing. Marcus drives in silence. Victoria rests her chin on her hand, watching the road.
Cedric (internal monologue):
"Draven Ashford… youngest Warden in English history. One of our greatest. But something in him changed yesterday… something I wasn't prepared to see."
He stares at his own reflection in the window.
"He smiled… while bleeding. Said it was fun. I've seen bloodlust before, but that wasn't it. That was something… else."
His eyes narrow.
"I wanted to mold him into our future. But now… now I wonder if I've opened a door I can't close. And I fear what might come through it."