The entire sky was tuned to our channel.

Literally.

Our fight was being broadcasted live like a divine pay-per-view event — "Moral Mayhem: Episode 215, The Human King vs. Red Bitch: Dawn of Idiocy."

But there was one small problem.

There was no fight.

Just awkward silence, ash, and anticipation.

I'd already vaporized Malthus' castle into fine powder, killed his guards, melted their swords, and probably offended the entire architectural community.

And yet—

No Malthus.

No Stronges.

No Ghost Jack.

Only me, standing on rubble that used to be property, wondering if villains also ghost you emotionally.

Then it hit me.

The sky was literally a livestream.

If Malthus wasn't here, maybe the bastard was trending somewhere else.

So I looked up.

And there they were.

Three glowing dots in the heavens: Stronges. Malthus. And a faint little flickering one — Ghost Jack, hovering like a confused screen saver.

Stronges and Malthus were clashing in the distance, two dots punching each other so fast the pixels gave up.

Jack? Just floating there, spectating.

Perfect.

He could hear my thoughts.

Time to use him as my telepathic Uber Eats for vengeance.

I called to him through my mind.

The System, naturally, got too excited and turned on its own toy.

Now I could hear Jack's voice too.

He asked me the usual "reached yet?"

I gave him the full speech — dramatic, epic, dripping in self-importance.

"Yes. I've reached Malthus' castle. Killed all his guards. Blew the whole damn thing to the afterlife. Tell him I'm waiting. Tell him I'm alive. Tell him the king of humans still breathes. Because you can't become a king… without killing the one before you."

Jack, bless his dead heart, just said:

"Sure thing."

And five minutes later—

THUMP!

The ground cracked like it owed rent.

Dust spiraled upward, and from it rose the reason my trauma had abs.

Malthus.

The same red skin.

The same demonic horns that looked like failed Wi-Fi antennas.

Except now he looked pissed.

And somehow, excited.

Like a gym bro who just spotted his rival walk in.

"I finally found you, human king!" he roared, his eyes glowing with murder and caffeine.

I smirked. "Correction. I found you, you demonic tomato."

Before he could clap back, another impact shook the ground.

THUMP!

Everyone behind me — prisoners, aliens, unpaid extras — fell silent.

Because we all knew who that was.

Stronges Trum.

Our master.

The woman who taught us how to weaponize sarcasm.

She landed like a meteor with purpose.

Jack's corpse still hung on her shoulder like a fashion statement.

And somehow, she wasn't even sweating.

"You finally arrived, Racis," she said calmly. "It took every ounce of restraint not to kill him. A few more minutes and I'd have ended the war right there — in space."

I blinked.

"Wait… you were in space?"

"Yes."

She said it so casually, as if she'd just taken a light jog through orbit.

"As soon as I stepped on his balcony, he noticed. He attacked, I attacked back. And before I knew it… we were in space."

I stared at her.

No thoughts, only static.

There had to be a logical explanation, but I wasn't the guy for that.

I'm the 'stab now, Google later' type.

So I just nodded. "Fair."

Still, credit where credit's due.

"You managed to stay alive against him when you weren't even going all out. You're insane, Master."

Everyone nodded — even Erect, who normally nods just because it burns calories.

Stronges just smirked

"He's not as strong as you think, Racis. You lost last time because you got power for free — and free things never teach you their worth. But now, you've earned it. He might only manage to trim a nail this time."

I grinned. "Then he's already dead."

"STOP IGNORING ME!"

Malthus roared, veins glowing like magma spaghetti.

I turned to him.

"Oh, look, he's talking! You still haven't changed, Red Bitch — you crave attention more than Instagram models."

Sexis cracked up behind me.

Even the System pinged a laughing emoji in my head.

Stronges stayed quiet, standing behind me now, watching like a teacher grading a student's final exam in violence.

She wouldn't step in — not unless someone was about to die.

And if someone did die, she'd probably save them just to kill them herself for being pathetic.

That's mentorship.

Malthus clenched his fists, the air crackling around him.

"Human King," he hissed, "you're forgetting something. Your family. Don't you want them?"

I stopped laughing.

"Yes. I do. But that depends on whether you've already killed them."

He smiled — and somehow, that was worse than his anger.

"I knew you'd come. That's why I did nothing to them. They gave me many reasons to kill them. Your father tried to give me milk. Your mother gave me milk. Your grandfather asked me for a female version of myself so he could 'explore his options.' They practically begged for death. But I held back."

My jaw hung open. "Ah. So they were being themselves."

"Indeed," Malthus said, nodding like a therapist. "Your grandmother, though… She was different. Sharp woman. Kept saying her grandson would come and kill me for trying to rape her. And here we are."

My smile vanished.

"Oh, don't worry. She'll get her wish."

Malthus cracked his knuckles.

"Enough about your family. Let me show you mine."

I frowned. "You have a family? Who married you?"

He ignored the insult — which was honestly more offensive than a comeback — and spread his arms wide.

The air shimmered.

Something pulsed inside his chest — a glow that started small, then expanded outward.

A circular wave erupted from him, glowing red like a hellish heartbeat.

It spread fast — a rippling ring of demonic energy, stretching, widening, devouring the horizon.

In seconds, it grew massive — wide enough to wrap the entire planet in its crimson halo.

And then… it was gone.

Silent.

A red ripple had just circled the whole world like a cosmic "seen" notification.

Everyone froze, waiting.

Nothing happened.

Erect blinked. "Was that supposed to do something?"

Sexis frowned. "Maybe it's like one of those anime attacks with a five-second delay."

I looked around.

The air felt thick.

Too thick.

And then—

Something did happen.

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