Clyde jolted awake. His body drenched in sweat and his heart hammering against his ribs.
His eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, as he shot upright in bed.
Gasping for breath, he ran trembling hands over his face, feeling the slick dampness of sweat clinging to his skin.
He sat in bis bed and hunched over, fingers digging into his damp skin.
The air in the room felt stifling, too still and too quiet. As if the world itself had momentarily ceased to exist outside of his thoughts that now swirling.
His body trembled. But it definitely not from exhaustion but from something deeper. That eas fear.
The vision — no, the experience — still burned fresh in his mind, refusing to fade like a normal dream. It wasn’t a dream and he knew it.
Every fiber of his being screamed that he had been somewhere else. A place drenched in darkness where the air itself pressed down like a suffocating weight.
Where three souls had been twisted beyond recognition, a long haired Angel. And where something above the void had seen him.
Clyde clenched his jaw, the memory sending another shiver through his spine.
That gaze that feels cold, alien, but also aware of him, had burned into his mind. It hadn’t just looked at him. It had acknowledged him.
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
"Get a grip," he muttered under his breath. His voice sounded hoarse.
He forced himself to look around, grounding himself in reality. The dim glow of the room’s lanterns cast faint golden light against the metal walls.
At least for now he was back here again in his room. Wherever here was.
But that thing, was still out there.
Clyde ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration twisting his features.
"Where the hell was that place? Who were those beings? And what the hell were they doing?"
And more than anything—what was the entity above the clouds?
He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening into fists.
He didn’t know how or why, but he was sure of one thing. That slitted eye would see him again. Maybe in different circumstances and different form.
Clyde exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as if that would help clear the lingering haze in his mind. He needed answers. And if there was anyone who might have a clue, it was Asqa.
He reached out, trying to focus his thoughts and establish a connection with her in Archangel Uriel’s domain. But the moment he tried, his mind wavered and the connection slipping like water through his fingers.
No matter how hard he concentrated, his thoughts wouldn’t align. His usual clarity shattered.
Clyde gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Is this because of the eye?"
It had only been a glimpse, yet the effects still lingered and making his thoughts sluggish and unstable. If merely looking at it had done this to him... what would happen if he ever faced it directly?
The thought sent an involuntary chill through him. That thing, whatever it was, was powerful. Beyond comprehension.
He pushed himself up from the bed, running a hand through his damp hair. again. His skin was clammy, and the stale air of the room clung to him. He needed to clear his head.
Without hesitation, he stepped into the small metal-walled bathroom and turned on the water. Ice-cold droplets cascaded over his skin and shocking his senses.
The chill helped, but it didn’t wash away the unease clawing at his mind.
As the water ran over him, Clyde clenched his fists. He couldn’t afford to stay . He needed his mind sharp again.
On the Far North dimension, where the sky now churned with storm clouds and the air crackled with fire energy, the battle still going on.
Belial’s body that wreathed in flames clashed against the colossal Black Dragon for the dozen times, their blows shaking the fabric of the sky.
Every time his flaming sword struck, it carved through the storm and splitting the sky apart. Yet, despite his overwhelming attack the strange beast endured.
The battle should have been over by now. A mere dragon was suppsed to be nothing compared to a Demon king like him. And yet, something was wrong.
From the safety of their tents, the gathered Celestials, Archangels, and even the Demon tropps, watched with growing confusion. Murmurs rippled through their ranks.
"Why is he taking so long?" Gabriel whispered.
"Is he holding back?" Uriel muttered with a frown.
But it didn’t make sense. Belial was a powerful Demon Ming. His flames had reduced entire realms to cinders just like Asmodeus. No dragon or creatures should have lasted beyond the first exchange.
Yet here he was, locked in a struggle that refused to end.
Belial’s teeth clenched as he pushed against the Black Dragon, their auras colliding in an explosion of fire and darkness. The creature’s sheer physical strength was immense, but that wasn’t the problem.
A voice that slithered into his mind like a whisper from the void itself.
"What the hell are you?!"
Belial had faltered few times because of his mind can not focus.
What he had heard wasn’t just words. It wasn’t a bestial growl of a dragon attempting to mimic words. It was an unnatural voice that sounded in his head.
The Demon king recoiled instinctively, shoving the dragon away with a burst of fire.
His flames surged outward, carving a golden arc through the sky.
The beast twisted its massive rotten body midair, effortlessly evading the attack before its wings sent a shockwave that blasted apart the storm clouds.
Belial steadied himself, his grip tightening around his sword.
The monster from the Black Wall did not speak before.
The Black Dragon stared back at him. Its abyssal eyes reflecting something vast and intelligence that make Belial worried.
And then it spoke again.
For the first time in eons, Belial felt something he could not name. It wasn’t fear. But it was close. An unease that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Because he knew this was no ordinary dragon. This was something else.
Belial decided that it will be best to not kill this dragon right away. He need to learn about it more.