Miasma. Energy from the depths of the Demonic Realm, fostered through the countless carnage of demons and Devils alike.
A power vested within the darkest of creatures, dwelling in irkso gifts that bode destruction.
It was once called the power of doom. As it bore strength far superior to that controlled by humans.
Aura, Mana, Dark Mana, Divine Mana, and Killing intent paled before the full brunt of the Demonic energy, Miasma.
Humans capable of using this energy were terd Demonic Humans. Humans are capable of surviving a contract with the forces of the Demonic Realm.
Devils and Demons, alive, subjected themselves through inhumane sacrifices to get their consciousness to the mortal realm. Whispering sweet nothing into the ears of subconscious humans, pulling them to a world of no return.
It granted them strength, one that far surpassed the humans, yet it continuously pulled them further away from humanity.
Casting their consciousness into a hollow depth, one infinitely beyond with no form of return.
This way, Demonic humans were slowly turned into Demons.
This was one of the major flaws of this contract, including its failure, which led to the creation of Human-Demons. Humans transford into demons, losing all form of self-awareness in the process. Becoming just as sentient as the demons that originated from the Demonic Realm.
'To be honest, it's a dumb contract.'
Raph thought as he suddenly surged past Rita, picking her up from the ground as a bolt of Demonic energy sliced through the air like a whip.
It crackled with intensity, surging out of the Burly man's body as it floated into the air.
The mist of Miasma that suffused around him was thick, obscuring the moonlight from reaching within as his body underwent drastic transformations.
The bolt of Demonic energy snapped in a rage, whipping through the air uncontrollably, as a hollow screech perated the air.
The range increased with each outburst of Miasma that snapped out of his body, pulsating the air, picking it up as a cyclone.
The wind surged around it, spinning violently in concentric circles, pulling the plants and dirt with it.
The crackling of the Miasma as the bolts shot out and the furious wind that swirled with it ford a cyclone of sorts. Energy projecting out of it in a malevolent hue.
Raph floated across the wind like a surfer, easily controlling his motion along the path while evading the bolts of Miasma.
Rita glanced up at him, her eyes blinking for a mont.
A scoff escaped her lips as her thoughts reeled in.
"Raph? Can I ask my second question now?"
Raph looked down at her, his arms gripped tightly around her in a bridal style.
"You must be kidding. We're in the middle of sothing right now."
"Well, seeing as how his transformation is taking much longer than needed. I figured you would have enough ti to answer my question."
He stayed silent. His gaze shifted away from hers as he jumped along the cyclone, a sudden bolt of lightning striking his forr position.
A sigh of relief escaped Rita's lips as she glanced back at it, her muscles locking.
Tension spread through her chest like ink in clear water, and her lips quivered.
'This is getting dangerous. Can we really fight this thing?'
One may wonder what the pretext of a demonic human is. Just how strong were they really?
Well, for instance, a 10th star fighting against a fellow 10th star who underwent the Demonification would lose by an odds of 100 to 1. And that 1 was simply if they were lucky enough to have the first strike.
'Why's he still facing a level 90 who's about to beco twice as strong?'
"Ask your question, Rita."
With a slight frown, she glanced back down, her eyes narrowing at the scene that unfolded.
The Miasma sprang out from the ball that surrounded the man, slowly and easily dispersing with the wind.
A strong premonition grew within her, one that led her to hold her paintbrush a bit firr.
"You're going to fight that man, right? I'm guessing you already know this, but this sort of phenonon only takes place during a final transformation. How do you plan to defeat that?"
Most Demonic humans, especially the powerful ones, usually had three locked gates, representing their connection to the Demonic Realm and the amount of Miasma they were allowed to wield.
Though the amount differs, the complexity works the sa.
The higher the gates, the stronger they beco, the thicker the Miasma and the closer they are to demons.
They may as well decide to fight against a King Demon. One that was at least of the 5th tier.
These were creatures that needed at least four to five 10th stars or circles to defeat, theoretically.
Thankfully, these demons and Devils didn't invade Earth until there were a lot more Grand Masters at the ti.
Now, I believe we might need a Saint or better still, a Grand Saint to win the scuffle during the Demonic War.'
"Well, for starters.."
He muttered, his gaze shifting between hers and the Burly man. His head suddenly flinched, his lips curled downwards as he surged through the air in a blur, erging out of the cyclone and landing a far distance away from it.
With an explosion of force, he landed on the earth, dirt and grass exploding to pieces from the landing.
Rita gasped in shock, her gaze shifting back to the cyclone that suddenly dispersed, thinning out into a crimson line.
A whistling noise echoed in the air, like that of a laser beam as it exploded in concentric circles, erupting a fearso wind with it that uprooted the grass and dirt.
Her eyes widened slightly, her body quickly curling into Raph while he fell to a knee and enveloped himself in an aura.
Imdiately, the burst of wind surged past them, a terrible hollow noise perating through their ears as the wind threatened to pull them from the ground.
Raph grunted as he held himself firmly to the ground. Unmoving, still, fixed to his position like a monunt, a statue of protection, while clasping Rita close to him.
His eyes shut close, teeth biting against his lips while his thoughts reeled in.
'Has it been so long since I fought one? Why does their energy seem stronger than before?'
mories of his past, which had served as a boon for so long, were quickly getting used up. Becoming more and more difficult to trust in, within perilous tis such as these, but the foundation of it all remained the sa.
'Is there a weakness in defeating a Demonified Demonic Human? No, not so much. Most humans who were incapable of withstanding the power self-destructed on their own, and those who were capable, yet, beca insufficient to retain the full brunt of the Miasma, also self-destructed.'
Either way, it went downhill for people who were incompatible with their energy.
'But those who bear the whole brunt of it and remain standing even with the third gate unlocked…'
His line of thoughts ca to an abrupt end as the wind suddenly ceased, a gracious, yet malevolent stale air picking up while the raindrops froze mid-air.
It dispersed, scattering like sakuras along a busy road.
Then, it resud its motion as the still air dispersed.
Rain fell once again, descending in trinkets and drops, draining the students, Lecturers and attackers alike in its blast of cold hue.
Raph looked up slowly, his eyes opening as he felt the wind gone.
A silent chuckle escaped his lips, his muscles tensing as a palpable tension brewed within him.
'This is the third gate, alright….full body transformation.'
They were akin to twice the strength of a regular level 90 or 9th star/circle. aning that the vast amount of power and energy that brewed within the Burly man was more than enough to flatten the Academy.
'It's crazy enough that a subordinate was compatible with the energy….I wonder if the so-called 'Red Peacemakers' are even aware of this.'
A power ant for the Executives was wielded by a subordinate.
Luckily, Demonic Humans are as strong as they are sparse. The executives should have been the only common ones in the Red Peacemakers, but after this, we might have to reconsider.'
A loud crunch broke the tense silence, a crimson-erald glow exuding with a mystic hue in the rain.
Raph felt his throat run dry, his skin pricking as his hair stood on end.
A tension brewed within him, muscles locking, skin precipitating, pupils constricting.
His danger signal blurred like a fire alarm, screeching in his brain as adrenaline pooled into his system. A burn stretching his veins, setting him for the fight to co.
His lips split in a fanged smirk—the kind he wore before gutting his father's killers.
"Hey, Rita…"
His voice was a low timbre, enough for her to flinch alert, but incapable of alerting their incoming attacker.
"Yeah?"
"About your question from before, prepare yourself…"
Rita raised a brow, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. She slowly released her grasp from him in the process, tension building within her.
"Prepare myself for what?"
"What else? Death."
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