From the broken silence... a figure emerged.
But from the shadow itself — as if it had been watching from the start.
He stepped into the light with calm, deliberate grace. No fanfare. No threat.
And yet the air shifted around him like the world was holding its breath.
He stood tall — at least 180 centimeters — with skin the color of dried blood and eyes like glowing embers. Unlike Lucian’s monstrous six-armed form, this devil had only two hands. But the calm etched into his expression was far more dangerous than any claws or fangs.
He didn’t look like a beast.
He looked like a man who had walked through endless war — and come out smiling.
A single black tribal tattoo coiled from his neck down into his chest, its design ancient and full of intent.
But most striking of all... was the eye.
A third eye, closed tight, rested in the center of his forehead.
But brimming with latent terror.
He wore the flowing robes of an ancient warrior — reminiscent of a Hindu ascetic, his form draped in weathered fabric and divine menace. And his aura...
Reality bent around him in subtle ways — the walls groaned, the light dimmed, the club’s shattered remains held unnaturally still.
He walked toward Dirga’s unconscious form, his hand reaching out — two fingers extended, as if to touch his soul.
"Stop right there, Asura."
The voice echoed like a guillotine.
From the deeper dark, Sasa emerged — no longer in human disguise.
His rabbit head gleamed under the flickering club lights. Eyes like twin rubies. A three-piece suit, crisp and elegant, barely containing the presence rolling off him in waves. His smile was sharp enough to bleed.
"Asura," Sasa said smoothly. "It’s been a while."
The red-skinned devil paused.
A twitch of his lip. A faint nod.
"You’ve gotten cocky," Asura replied, his voice deep and coiled in layers of old power. "But you’ve always liked chaos."
He glanced down at Dirga, then back to Sasa.
"This one’s dangerous. You trained him well."
In truth, Asura was still shaken. Few could step into another devil’s realm without invitation — and Sasa had walked in like it was a garden stroll.
No alarm. No resistance.
Dirga hadn’t realized it, but from the moment he stepped into Obsidian Vein, he had entered Asura’s Realm.
That’s why the streets outside had gone silent.
Why no one screamed or ran during Lucian’s transformation.
They weren’t too scared to act.
They simply no longer existed.
This fight... had taken place outside the mortal world.
"All according to the gamble," Sasa said, his voice lilting, whimsical — and laced with lethal intent.
Asura’s third eye twitched beneath its sealed lid.
"In six months," Sasa continued, "we meet at the tournament. Win, and you’ll support me. That was the deal."
Asura folded his arms. "And if you win with this boy... your pieces move closer to the throne."
Sasa chuckled. "If you support me, even the Devil King will hate you."
Then came that grin — that maddening grin like he held the world’s worst secret and loved it.
"But Hell’s been too quiet lately," Sasa said, shrugging. "Time for a little noise."
Asura’s expression darkened. The weight of Sasa’s aura was beginning to crack the edges of the realm. Veins of darkness split across the floor.
Even this pocket world couldn’t withstand it.
"Try not to destroy my realm, Mr. Rabbit," Asura said dryly.
Sasa tilted his head. "Apologies."
And with an audible click — the pressure vanished. Instantly.
Like a god snapping his fingers.
Then, without moving, Sasa raised a hand.
Dirga’s unconscious body began to float toward him — along with the shattered remnants of Lucian’s soul.
"This one’s mine," Sasa said softly. "Consider it... payment."
But just as the realm began to break apart—
Two shadows appeared beside Asura.
The children stood in silence, eyes empty.
"I’ll take the kids," Asura said.
Sasa offered a wave. "A fair trade. See you soon, Asura."
Everything shattered.
Reality surged back like a flood.
Suddenly, they were back inside the club.
The same famous, crowded, neon-lit den of sin.
And not a soul remembered what had happened.
Only one truth remained—
When Dirga awoke again, it was somewhere else.
Back in his domain, Sasa returned to his human form — the old, eccentric man with that timeless flair: a silk scarf, round glasses, and the kind of tired smile only devils wore his new style he jus adapted
He stood over Dirga’s unconscious body, adjusting his cufflinks, his crimson eyes flickering with quiet calculation.
"Let’s see what you’ve become, kid."
He crouched beside him, scanning Dirga’s ruined body.
The missing leg. The shattered arm. Burns spiderwebbing across his torso. Blood. Sweat. Ash.
But deeper than that...
The tattoo on Dirga’s chest — the black void ring — was pulsing. Faintly. Unstable. The edge of something... new.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a collection of items — relics, soul fragments, Lucian’s broken spirit. They shimmered, resisting his grip.
"Time to cash in," Sasa whispered.
And from the dark corner of the room, it appeared — a slot machine.
Rusting. Ancient. The same one Dirga had once used to draw Vantasio’s mission.
Its handle glinted under phantom light.
Sasa inserted the items — Lucian’s soul, a silver fang, a torn devil’s pact, and blood-stained currency — into the machine’s maw.
The reels spun — a blur of demonic symbols, sigils, bones, and eyes. The clattering was thunderous.
A chime echoed like a funeral bell.
The machine groaned — and spat out a single, glowing pill. Obsidian-black, rimmed in red. Smoke curled from it like incense burned in a temple of war.
Sasa caught it and turned to Dirga.
"Well then," he said, crouching again. "Let’s see if you’re still lucky."
He forced the pill past Dirga’s lips.
The reaction was instant.
Dirga’s body arched, mouth opening in a silent scream.
His skin cracked open, light bleeding through like magma under pressure. The tattoo on his chest — the black hole — began to spin, slow at first, then faster.
The cracks across his flesh glowed like event horizon fractures, shimmering with gravitational heat. Not just light — gravity itself was bleeding from his soul.
Sasa smiled — that sharp, devilish smile.
"Still too early for you to die."
And with a single flick of his wrist — he threw Dirga’s body into his pocket realm.
A vortex opened — swirling space like a miniature void. Dirga vanished into it, still writhing with power he couldn’t contain.
In the silence, he whispered:
The portal closed with a sigh.
And in the dark, the slot machine began to spin on its own — one last time.