The night settled heavy over the penthouse. City lights bled through the windows, casting long shadows against the marble floor.
Jane had let it go—for now.
Her anger had quieted, replaced by something more dangerous: resolve.
It was nearing midnight. The air had stilled after the storm of emotions.
"I’ll take my leave," Jane said at last, rising from the couch.
Dirga stood with her. His body, still adjusting to its transformation, felt stiff. But his voice was gentle. "You could stay the night."
Jane shook her head. "No. I’ve got a café to run, remember?"
Her voice was lighter, but her eyes held the weight of unspoken thoughts. Worry. Fear. Loyalty.
Dirga nodded. "Alright. Just... be careful."
"I always am," she said, her tone softer now. "You take care of yourself too, Dirga. Seriously."
From the hallway, Lilith approached, tying her hair into a loose ponytail. "I’ll walk her out," she offered, giving Jane a smile. "Lady escort mode, activated."
Jane chuckled faintly. "Lead the way, then."
Dirga followed them to the front door. The quiet hum of the city below buzzed faintly through the hallway walls.
He opened the door for them. A cool breeze swept in from the corridor outside.
Jane paused before stepping out.
She turned to him—eyes sharp, unwavering. "Don’t die on me. That’s an order."
Dirga gave her a small, crooked smile. "Yes, ma’am."
Lilith gave him a cheeky wave. "Try not to blow up the building while we’re gone, boss."
And just like that, they disappeared into the quiet of the hallway.
Dirga stood there for a moment longer.
The door clicked shut behind them.
And the silence returned.
The penthouse slipped into stillness again — no more clinking glasses, no more Jane fury, no laughter from Lilith. Just Dirga... and Sasa.
A moment passed. Then:
"So, what was that transformation?" Dirga asked. The question had burned in his throat since before Jane cut in.
Sasa, now back in his human form, flopped lazily onto the couch. He let out a long sigh, his silver hair slightly disheveled, like a man who’d run too many mental marathons.
"There’s a concept," Sasa began, "When someone’s soul concept reaches Level 2, their body starts changing — adapting — to hold the weight of that concept. That’s what we call Body Transformation. It’s like reality trying to catch up with the soul."
He sat up slightly, more serious now.
"From there, two paths begin to form: the Path of the Concept and the Path of the Body. They’re linked — like chains forged between your soul and flesh. You’ll need to walk both, though you can specialize."
Dirga’s brows drew together. "So Lucian’s monster form... that was a Body Transformation?"
Sasa chuckled darkly, his tone dipping toward something grim. "More than that. When your concept is strong enough... you can force reality to accept it, even if only briefly. That’s what Lucian did. A full-body override. But it burns — through your soul, your mind, your body."
He leaned forward, eyes sharp now.
"Stay in that state too long, and you stop being human. Hell, you stop being anything. Just a walking concept, held together by pain."
Dirga nodded slowly, and instinctively called for his status window.
Gravity (Lv. 2)Telekinesis (Lv. 2)
Dirga frowned. "My concept is still Stage 1... but I already triggered Body Transformation?"
Sasa tilted his head, smiling that too-knowing smile. "Yeah. Happens sometimes. Call it an anomaly. Rare... but not impossible. Guess the Black Star has its own way of doing things."
Dirga said nothing. The information felt heavy. Real.
Sasa groaned and stretched, bones popping. "Devils don’t need sleep," he muttered, sinking into the sofa. "But tonight? I just might."
He yawned theatrically, folding his hands behind his head.
"You’d better rest too. The next lesson’s coming soon... and the clock’s ticking."
Dirga didn’t reply right away.
He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city below flickered like a thousand restless spirits. Somewhere out there, Naya still slept — still waited.
He clenched his fists.
Four months to prepare.
Four months to survive.
Because losing... wasn’t an option.
The morning broke quietly over the city.
Soft light spilled through the penthouse windows, warming the cold steel and glass. Despite the transformation in his body, despite the power now coursing through his veins, Dirga still slept.
Because the mind — the soul — needed rest.
He woke with a slow exhale, sat up, and rubbed the scar beneath his eye. Even now, it hummed faintly. A mark of battle. A reminder.
He washed up, pulled on his favorite old sweatpants and a weathered t-shirt — comfort clothes, familiar weight. Not every morning needed to feel like the end of the world.
"Morning," Dirga muttered as he stepped into the living room.
"Morning, kid," Sasa replied from midair — floating lazily, legs crossed, eyes glued to the TV. But instead of anime, today he watched a soap opera — dramatic piano music playing over a character’s betrayal.
In one hand, Sasa held a spoon. In the other? A suspiciously sparkly parfait.
"I gave you three days," Sasa said between bites. "Rest up. Walk among the mortals. Touch grass. Then... we begin again."
Dirga raised a brow. "You planned that just so you could binge dramas, didn’t you?"
Sasa smiled, syrup dripping down his spoon. "I am a multitasker."
Dirga rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Honestly, he appreciated the time off — even if Sasa’s reasons were dubious.
He dressed properly. This time not for battle, not for blood.
But for someone important.
The hospital stood like a monument to progress — funded by the Vantasio Group, it shimmered like glass and light. Modern. Elegant. Almost sterile in its perfection.
Dirga’s presence here didn’t draw attention. Security knew his face. Staff gave respectful nods. He walked the halls like a ghost returning home.
It had been two months.
Two months since he last saw her.
Naya lay in the same room. The same bed. Her body peaceful, breath shallow. But something had changed — subtly.
Dirga felt it the moment he stepped in.
The energy in the room.
That familiar scent of hell Flower curled faintly around her like smoke.
He approached quietly. Took the chair beside her. Sat.
And after a long silence, he leaned forward and whispered:
"Believe in me. Pray for me... because I’m walking into the storm."
But something in him stirred.
For the next three days, Dirga stayed close — a silent sentinel. He came and went from meetings, nodded through briefings, spoke with Lilith, even answered Jane’s calls.
But every night, he returned here.
The world could burn outside.
But these three days?
They belonged to Naya.