Itogami Island.
It was an artificial island floating in the Pacific Ocean—a city where humans and demons coexisted peacefully.
Located in the central Pacific, approximately 330 kiloters south of Tokyo, it was constructed using resin, tal, organic materials, and magic.
"15:56:37—Reporting to Lord Zacharias, we are approaching Higashi Island Port of Itogami Island."
A massive cruise ship over a hundred ters long sailed across the sea, gradually nearing the colossal mariti city.
On the deck of the cruise ship.
A subordinate with an unusual physique reported in a low voice to the man standing on the deck.
"Understood."
The man was a lean, middle-aged figure.
Two symtrical mustaches rested above his thin lips, twitching with every slight movent. His narrow, phoenix-like eyes gave off a cunning impression, reminiscent of a fox.
"Prepare to dock. Avoid making too much noise. If we scare off our prey, no amount of money can make up for it."
"Yes."
"Rember to bring the ."
"Yes."
The subordinate responded chanically, his arms swinging down to his knees as he retreated into the ship's cabin.
The middle-aged man remained on the deck, gazing into the distance at the approaching port of Itogami Island.
"Itogami Island... one of the Demon Sanctuary cities. Is the to be held here?"
He murmured to himself, lost in thought.
About two kiloters away lay Higashi Island Port of Itogami Island.
Nurous vessels were docked there—ranging from over-ten-ter-long yachts to several-dozen-ter-long cargo ships. His own hundred-ter-plus cruise ship wouldn't stand out too much among them.
Waves crashed against the bow of the approaching ship, and the sea breeze carried a faint, salty dampness.
Within sight lay the flat port shoreline and countless stacked shipping containers.
Further in the distance stood towering skyscrapers, encircled by rail tracks, with airships drifting slowly overhead. The island was ho to approximately 560,000 residents, including researchers, scholars from various fields, and demons of all kinds.
The massive steel city floated brazenly on the ocean's surface.
Like a man-made miracle!
"16:01:15—Reporting to Lord Zacharias, the Vessel has been brought."
Within minutes, the subordinate returned.
By his side was a girl who appeared to be barely over ten years old.
The girl had bright golden hair, and her azure blue eyes showed no trace of emotion.
Her ethereal beauty, reminiscent of a fairy, required no embellishnt, giving off an illusory charm.
She wore reinforced fiber protective clothing similar to a motorcycle rider's suit, with a large "IX" embroidered on the front of her chest.
"Good. Prepare to dock."
The middle-aged man nodded in satisfaction.
He signaled his subordinates to keep watch over the girl and instructed the entire crew to prepare for disembarkation.
However.
Today, they were destined not to set foot on land.
"Are you Balthazar Zacharias, the chairman of the Nipplesi Provisional Autonomous Region?"
Just before disembarkation.
A voice drifted softly into the ears of the middle-aged man, who suddenly felt his hairs stand on end.
"Who's there?"
The middle-aged man tensed instantly.
How could soone approach without a sound?
How could soone approach him unnoticed on the open sea?
Yet he didn't panic. Instead, he steadied himself and scanned his surroundings, displaying remarkable composure.
Tap!
A crisp footstep echoed.
It ca from a figure clad head to toe in armor, standing over 180 centiters tall.
The armor was primarily black, with a vivid red chest plate. The helt fit seamlessly, leaving no gaps exposed.
The helt's eyes were blue compound lenses, and a red horn protruded from the top of the head.
It felt… unsettling.
"So ugly."
The crowd on the deck reacted swiftly, encircling the armored figure and separating him from the middle-aged man.
Soone muttered a blunt assessnt under their breath.
The armored figure stiffened slightly.
It might have been an illusion, but that offhand remark seed to have struck a nerve.
"So you descended from the sky?"
The middle-aged man, Zacharias, felt a wave of relief.
This armored intruder hadn't used spatial manipulation—just flight. That was far less troubling.
If it had been a high-level magus or witch capable of spatial control, the situation would have been dire.
"Might I ask who you are and what business brings you to my yacht?"
Zacharias adjusted his suit collar, his deanor elegant as he addressed the armored figure.
"Grandma once said: before asking questions of others, one ought to answer theirs first."
The armored figure snorted softly, then slowly raised his right hand, pointing a single finger toward the sky.
An unspoken aura of arrogance radiated from him.
"…My apologies."
Zacharias fell silent for a mont, then offered a faint smile.
"You are quite right. I am Baltasar Zacharias, ruler of the European nation known as Niðavellir."
"Good. That simplifies things."
The armored figure nodded in satisfaction.
"Grandma said: 'A man without trust is not to be relied upon.' So, I shall answer your question. My purpose here is singular—hand over the vessel!"
His tone was polite at first.
But by the last sentence, it had sharpened into naked aggression.
As he spoke, his gaze locked onto the golden-haired girl shielded at the rear.
"Attack!"
Zacharias roared, his eyes turning fierce.
"Tear him apart!"
"Understood."
The subordinates surrounding the deck surged forward as one.
"16:03:47—initiate enemy annihilation!"
Zacharias had roughly twenty n under his command.
Each wore eerie black garnts, with arms hanging long past their knees and grotesquely exaggerated shoulder muscles. Their faces were hidden behind masks made of unidentified animal skulls, giving them the appearance of rcenaries from so savage tribe.
"Manifest—Demon Blades!"
One of them shouted.
Hum—!
Crack—!
Simultaneously, weapons erupted from all over the bodies of the twenty subordinates.
A short blade shot out from one man's forearm—thirty centiters long, glowing blood-red with magical energy, vibrating at high speed like a chainsaw.
Another produced a pistol from his shoulder, its barrel charged with condensed magical bullets.
These weapons, erging from muscle and bone, were the "Demon Blades" nurtured within the bodies of the "Ghoul" race. Their power was imnse—enough to slice through tal and shatter jade.
"Grandma once said, always rember to be cautious—never provoke those far stronger than yourself. That isn't bravery, but recklessness!"
The armored figure spoke leisurely.
With a flip of his palm, a pitch-black two-handed greatsword abruptly materialized in his grasp.
"Whoosh!"
A golden flash streaked past.
Fragnted limbs and entrails rained down like a downpour.
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