Luck rose from the rough ground and brushed the dust from his body.
The fog seemed endless, punctuated by pillars slicing through the clouds.
He glanced up at the sky—dark and blurry—and a comforting silence filled his ears.
–At last, I can rest.
He drove his sword into the black, rocky earth and didn't think twice before lying down.
He couldn't even lift his weary eyelids, and his wounded body begged for the smallest amount of sleep.
He knew he could die at any moment.
"This has to be Mastema's doing… probably just giving the demons false hope to pick them off… one by one."
But Luck didn't have time to think. Seconds later, he was asleep.
---
Swash
–Damn, that was gross!
A tiny creature, its body covered in hundreds of little eyes, clambered atop Luck's stiff form and licked his face with an enormous, icy tongue.
Luck shook the drool from his skin, grabbed his sword, and swung—but the thing was too small and fast. Before he knew it, it had vanished into the vast darkness.
He brushed the dirt from his clothes; despite the harsh environment, he'd slept soundly.
"Still… what are these things? How the hell does an angel get access to somewhere this creepy?"
He couldn't stop thinking about it. Someone as supposedly sacred as Mastema had chosen this place to entertain himself—hunting down the surviving demons one by one.
–This doesn't look… sacred at all,– Luck muttered to himself, the pain in his rib gnawing at his patience.
"Actually, it's too disturbing… this place… I haven't been anywhere this quiet in a long time. But… why do I feel so uneasy?"
Luck was lost in thought when suddenly, his ears picked up a faint sound in the distance—growing louder and louder with every second.
At that moment, a rancid stench filled the air—like rotten meat he used to find in alleyways every day.
Suddenly, a horde of those creatures—much larger than the first—emerged from the fog.
They looked like living, hungry tanks, poised to charge at any moment.
They were running straight for him.
"I guess I won't find peace until the day I die, heh…" Luck gripped his sword tighter than ever and planted himself before the stampede.
–Wait… they're avoiding me?– he said, bewildered, as the beasts veered around him.
"They probably know what this thing is made of," Luck thought, admiring his new blade. He couldn't believe angels could mass‑produce weapons like this; who knew what rare minerals floated in heaven? It made sense.
But that wasn't why the creatures fled—something far bigger was coming.
A massive monster lumbered toward Luck. Its body was draped in twisted feathers and sickly white skin. Huge eyes expanded and contracted across its form, and its chest was impaled by what looked like a golden wheel. Its back was riddled with wounds—countless swords and daggers embedded in thick flesh.
It glowed much like an angel, but its aura was darker, seething with hatred. A ruby‑hued power pulsed around it.
–This thing is enormous… but I'm pretty sure size is the least of my worries.
With that, Luck dashed for a nearby pillar—its jet‑black surface stark against the mist.
The beast wasted no time chasing him; the ground tore away beneath its razor‑sharp claws.
It opened its jaws—just as deadly—and leaped at Luck, only to be met with a holy sword to the face.
–AAARRFFHH!
The creature's pained snarls echoed. Luck yanked his trusted weapon free from its jaws.
–Gross… ever tried mouthwash?– he taunted, but the monster had recovered. In a blur, it rammed the pillar. Luck heard a dull crack as the stone uprooted; he only needed a small push…
"And gravity will finish the job for me."
He leaped as far as he could, sprinting away from the impact zone.
The pillar plummeted, slicing through the air under its own weight.
BANG
The crash triggered a minor quake. Fortunately, the pillar's height gave Luck enough distance to escape.
It all went according to plan—he'd considered cutting the pillar, but likely would've failed.
"God knows what these things are built from," he thought.
He never imagined the beast would dig its own grave—there was no doubt that impact had killed it.
–It's like it had no brain,– Luck said as he limped away, each step sending pain through his rib. His Luck skill had kept him alive so far; a normal human would've died long ago from a broken rib, but Luck was luckier than most.
–How did you know? They literally don't have brains…
A male voice reached Luck's ears. No one was in sight, leaving him confused.
–Am I hearing voices in my head now?
He spun around, searching for the source, circling with no success...
Luck's stomach twisted like a dying thing. He'd been stumbling through endless pillars for hours, every step a protest from his broken rib, and hadn't eaten since that pale apple. His mouth was dry, his mind fogged by hunger.
A sudden thump on his calf made him stumble forward. He looked down: one of those little eyefur beasts had sprinted straight into him, its glossy eyes fluttering in surprise. It skidded on the black stone, trying to right itself.
Luck froze. Hunger roared louder than his fear. He loosed his sword in a practiced arc—no flourish, just a clean slice. The creature fell, a soft thunk against the rock. Its eyes stopped moving.
He knelt, chest heaving. The body was warm. With shaking fingers, he tore at its pulpy flesh, biting into muscle slick with brine. The taste was foul and metallic, but he swallowed greedily, each mouthful easing the ache in his gut. He spat out a string of sinew and closed his eyes.
"Don't judge me," he muttered between bites, wiping his chin on his sleeve. "Better than starving."
He pushed himself to his feet, blade still stained, when a voice drifted through the fog:
–Over here, human.
Luck was stunned. He quickly wiped his mouth with his hands and hid his bloodstained fingers.
–Pretend you didn't see that...
A small girl and two figures appeared out of nowhere—it was obvious they'd used some invisibility skill.
She wore a worn pink suit that covered her completely; her golden hair contrasted beautifully with the silver horn sprouting from her forehead. She looked much smaller than Luck, but appearances were deceiving—especially with demons.
To her left stood a tall man clad head‑to‑toe in black armor.
To her right was a lizard‑demon; long green hair covered one of his sharp, reptilian eyes.
–That thing back there was a fallen angel. They don't have a mind as such, but it won't last long regenerating. We took one down just a while ago and…
The armored man said:
–Too much talk. He grabbed Luck's arm with his right hand and his sword with his left; the expression in his eyes through the helmet's slits was unreadable.
–Hey…! Who the hell are you?