I, Kurumi Tokisaki, Am a Wanderer

The drowsy girl gazed at the sky above. It was no longer the pitch-black, narrow crevice-like sight she had grown used to.

The black and red canopy above resembled the somber backdrop of a gloomy stage play.

She sniffed lightly, the intense scent of iron permeating her senses.

It was then she realized—she had awakened.

The once-lost, solitary girl, who was supposed to be dead, opened her eyes once again under this vast sky.

"Was it you who awakened me?" The girl, ancient and distant as the planet itself, questioned the god before her.

The diminutive god perched on a massive black chess piece scratched their head awkwardly. "Ahaha… if I said it was a mistake, would you believe me?"

"Holou…" The god's smile was so radiant it even made the newly awakened girl show a gentle smile.

In the times before the world had fully formed, in an era so ancient it defied calculation—

From chaos, the girl had opened her eyes.

She knew nothing, yet knew everything, for she was alone in this world. The only certainty she had was the truth of her own existence as a god.

But what was a god? Why was she born? She knew not.

Holding a plumb line in her hand, the girl endlessly asked herself: why? Why? Why?

What is existence, what is nothingness, what is the world, and what am I?

Regardless of the questions that filled her mind, she had no one to whom she could voice them.

No matter the hypotheses she proposed, there was no one to offer a response.

In the endless ages of solitude, she could only doubt herself.

Thus, she created the first machine—a small, intelligent cube.

The girl posed her questions to the machine, hoping for a companion to converse with.

What am I? What is this doubt?

But the response she received was merely more questions—and confusion about the concept of a "heart."

Infinite questions overwhelmed her mind until she conceived a solution.

Self-negation. Using the blade of her own doubt, she pierced through her divine core, her Divine Essence. Before everything descended into the abyss of darkness, she embraced death and finally reached one conclusion.

—At the very least, she had existed.

In that desolate world, all that remained was the self-inspecting machine—a creation abandoned by its god, endlessly repeating its own questions.

The world had turned gray and white.

Carrying Kurumi in her arms, Schwi had arrived at their destination.

Beneath their feet lay the everlasting permafrost, stretching across a barren, lifeless wasteland even beastkind avoided. No water, no food—this was a place forsaken by the gods.

The dry, biting wind cut like blades. At the edge of the permafrost loomed an expanse of white ice sea, with desolate winds wailing across it.

Schwi landed gently and carefully set Kurumi down. Like a dutiful little wife, she began tidying Kurumi's black-and-red robe, tiptoeing to secure the scarf snugly around her neck.

Bright azure "black ash" spun upward into the sky, carried by the snow-laden winds, as if the barren land had been disturbed by the arrival of these two intruders.

The tips of Schwi's twin tails trembled, emitting subtle, nearly imperceptible ripples as she probed the area for any signs of life.

Silence—an oppressive, deathly quiet. Not a single trace of a living being.

But something was wrong.

According to the Ghosts' intelligence, painstakingly pieced together from numerous sources, this was supposed to be the heart of the Demonia's activity.

As the two surveyed their surroundings, an extraordinary phenomenon occurred.

Snow and dust from the sea began swirling upwards, forming what looked like a massive sandstorm. The oppressive clouds above grew heavier, adopting a sickly white, bone-like hue.

A white storm connected heaven and earth, its radius enormous, whirling like a turbine as it tore across the ice sea, heading directly for Kurumi and Schwi.

The moment the storm touched the frozen ground, the earth erupted. Hidden beneath the snow, "Black Ash" erupted skyward, instantly painting the storm an iridescent blue.

The storm howled like a pan flute.

Judging by its trajectory, Schwi quickly calculated the storm's path. In these high-latitude regions, sudden blizzards were especially perilous.

Grasping Kurumi's hand, she led her toward an angled ice ridge in the distance.

There, they could both seek shelter from the storm and admire this deadly force of nature.

The ridge, sharp as a blade, pointed toward the sky, its edges glowing faintly blue.

Schwi expanded her scanning radius and detected a network of interwoven ice caves beneath the thick ice. Among them, she identified several peculiar, dense, elongated structures.

They clearly weren't rocks or anything natural.

They were too symmetrical, each one perfectly mirroring its counterpart on either side of a curved path.

Could it be concealed Demonia?

Schwi couldn't be sure—but whatever they were, they were undoubtedly connected to those creatures.

When the storm passed, they could dig in and investigate.

Wait. Schwi's eyes flashed with realization.

She turned to the white-and-blue maelstrom raging closer. It seemed too close, and its trajectory was… unusual.

The turbine-like storm, capable of swallowing entire cities, had inexplicably drawn a massive arc across the wasteland and was now bearing directly down on Kurumi and herself.

Coincidence?

Or something else?

Schwi's scanners analyzed the storm. Amidst the swirling "Black Ash," obscuring her instruments, she managed to detect something—a concentrated, extraordinary surge of spirit energy.

Amid the glacial cold, Schwi confirmed it—the storm was alive.

It was the Demonia.

If the Fantasma could include catastrophes like the dreaded "Fog of Death" Insein Nebia, then it stood to reason that a corrupted creation of a Demon King (High Ranking Demonia) might manifest in a similarly perilous form.

From a storm that could swallow the poles to a single drifting snowflake, this entity could transform and roar freely through the world.

That was the truth behind this monster.

"Onee-sama…" Schwi murmured bitterly, explaining to Kurumi with a tinge of helplessness.

The Phantasma's infamous Death Fog had never been defeated; no one had discovered a way to destroy it.

And this storm—this storm seemed even trickier.

For the first time, Schwi felt a sense of resignation.

"Ah~ I see. So that's how it is?" Kurumi licked her lips, her mind already racing to devise a countermeasure.

The storm was coming.

Black ash danced in the bleeding sky. Though grotesque, this sight held an unearthly allure, almost beautiful in its macabre splendor.

The wind, laden with an overwhelming flow of spirits and spirit husks, obliterated everything in its path, erasing both organic and inorganic matter alike.

Blue-gray remnants of erosion, caught in the storm's grasp, were flung skyward, disappearing without a trace.

Before Kurumi stretched a vast storm, blotting out her entire view. Brilliant blue spirit husks, mingling like dandelion tufts with the pallid, turbulent snowflakes, evoked the vivid chemical clash of copper sulfate with sodium hydroxide.

But this was alive.

A pair of flickering, candle-like eyes glowed ominously within the storm, staring dully at the two insignificant beings below.

A deadly tornado of death—it suddenly reminded Kurumi of Dirge.

A real-life version of "The wind blows eastward…"

A guttural roar rumbled in their minds, its reverberations no less jarring than a flashbang.

Kurumi's outfit, a cosmetic costume, proved utterly impervious to the storm that ravaged the earth. Its inherent durability ignored all logic, leaving her dress unscathed.

But Schwi wasn't so lucky. The black knee-length dress Kurumi had bought for her in Fuyuki City, though finely crafted, was ultimately just a mortal garment.

Amid Schwi's tearful, almost crying expression, the black lace scorched and curled away, exposing snow-white, smooth skin beneath the sheer, ruined fabric.

Kurumi sighed, helpless yet amused. Gently, she reached out and tugged at Schwi's small, distraught face, forcing her lips into a reluctant smile.

"Now, now… Schwi, how about you wait over there by the ice ridge, hmm?"

The little girl, growing increasingly adept at pouting, gazed up at her with shimmering, crystalline eyes.

Schwi clung to Kurumi's robe.

Kurumi crouched down, pressing her forehead gently against Schwi's in a calming gesture. "Trust me, okay? It's just a lowly Rank 11 Demonia."

Schwi stared at her intently before standing on tiptoe to press a kiss against Kurumi's cheek.

Kurumi wasn't fond of others touching her lips, but cheek kisses were acceptable. Schwi puffed her cheeks, flapped her mechanical wings, and flew toward the sharp, fin-like ice ridge curving skyward behind them.

She watched Kurumi anxiously, unable to bring herself to say more.

How could this be just an ordinary Demonia?

The overwhelming presence, rivaling even the Fog of Death - Insein Nebia that had annihilated an entire Geared fleet, made that claim utterly implausible.

Among the confirmed Phantasma, it was one of the most perilous existences, its danger level undeniable.

But... if her elder sister told her to wait, then she would wait.

What she did while waiting, however, was another matter entirely.

Clink.

Clink.

The heavy, murderous dual pistols were now in Kurumi's hands. Her slender frame stood defiant against the wind.

"It's really not that scary, you know~" Kurumi's lips curled into a charming smile.

In her eyes, atop that shadowy, lifeless storm, floated a long, glaring health bar.

Black Verse — Frost.

"Well, well~~~ if it's showing a health bar, then even if it's a god, I'll kill it for you."

Cold orange flames ignited around Kurumi. The spirit-killing husks of death disintegrated like snowflakes upon contact. Against the howling gale, Kurumi raised one of her pistols, pressing its muzzle lightly to her lips.

"Now… it's showtime~~~"

Let's dance. You're death; I'm the same.

Kurumi's dark figure, like a raven in a tempestuous storm, flowed effortlessly into the violent current, merging with its rhythm.

Shadows consumed the light.

Closing her eyes, Kurumi listened to the distorted, hollow roar that amplified endlessly in her ears.

Death... exhaustion... sorrow... despair. It felt as though Death itself was extending a hand toward her, promising eternal rest.

Her blue mana bar drained visibly, but fortunately, her endless reserves and no-cooldown abilities rendered the problem moot.

The storm, capable of devouring glaciers, transformed seamlessly into a gentle zephyr, effortlessly adapting.

Ordinarily, defeating or repelling such an entity was outright impossible.

Its core could have been a mere wisp amidst the boundless storm—finding and striking it would be utterly implausible.

No matter how much damage was inflicted upon the storm, its main body remained untouched. Wounds might allow escape but never victory.

Ordinarily, that was the case.

Amid the churning chaos, Kurumi fired recklessly, her pistols booming with every shot. The bullets, once fired, embedded themselves mid-air, tracing invisible trajectories that spiraled outward before halting. They floated in place as if lodged in some unseen, immaterial entity.

The golden bullets dotted the storm like stars in a divine constellation.

The void howled mournfully, echoing the storm's pained wails.

Inexplicably, each shot dealt damage. The health bar visibly dwindled.

A crushing, suffocating sense of danger surged over her. The dense storm enveloped Kurumi entirely, drowning her in a sea of stark white and brilliant blue.

The spirit-killing husks overwhelmed Schwi's scanners, blocking her from tracking Kurumi.

Schwi could wait no longer.

[Code Open!]

[Activating—]

The mechanical monstrosity of the polluted world emerged in Schwi's grasp, as crimson, totem-like runes unfurled behind her in full bloom.

The monstrous Demonia glared at Kurumi, its countless candle-like eyes opening one after another in the murky blue-white void. The venomous, snake-like aura emanating from it confirmed its nature—a true Demonia.

It was terrifyingly powerful. Who knew how long it had slumbered in these polar wastes or how much strength it had devoured?

The oppressive atmosphere weighed even heavier than the Dragonia Kurumi had faced. Perhaps this thing was even more terrifying.

Tangled streams of air coiled like ropes around Kurumi, while physical death-element spirits lifted her into the air. They slithered like tendrils around her wrists and ankles, golden as flowing blood amidst the blue husks and pale snowflakes.

"Got you," Kurumi muttered. Despite the nauseating restraint pressing on her, she grinned fiercely.

With all her might, she wrenched her right hand back and hurled her pistol-blade forward.

Clang, clang, clang—

—Death Chains.

The storm's twisted, bestial form was pinned beneath the snowy, blackened polar rocks by her blade.

The writhing current engulfed most of Kurumi's body, creeping dangerously close to her face. Her arms felt leaden, as though carrying a thousand tons.

But everything was still fine. All she needed now was to unload her trump card—the Roar of the Berserk Dragon.

Wait... Kurumi's eyes narrowed through the storm's shifting currents, catching a glimpse of something beyond.

Her expression froze.

What the hell… Schwi, are you trying to kill me too?

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