[Rewrite] Chapter 7: The Unorthidox Path

The white horizon folded shut behind her. The smell of old stone, dust, and stale incense slid back into Hannya’s lungs. She exhaled a long, tired sigh.

‘Sixty minutes of diminishing returns.’

Left Direction had talked like a broken fountain, flowing and endless. Broad news at first, then nothing but lovers! Lovers fleeing in elopement. Lovers betraying for power or pleasure. Lovers dying for one another. All from his unblinking, front-row vantage point. Not theory or rumor. Pure voyeur’s gospel.

Her spine vibrated in disgust.

‘Of course that freak is locked up there.’ If that eye could roam Neel, she’d never relax. Imagine rounding a corner and bumping into that floating gossip forum. Imagine that bastard perched in the corner of your wedding chamber, eye critical for evaluation.

‘That fucker, not my wedding night!’ She already felt indignant for her and her husband to be. Not on her watch! She would protect his honor!

She dragged a palm across her face and steadied. This wasn’t her apartment anymore. This wasn’t a forum thread. It was a medieval reverse world painted by power. Men seemed to strut around with impunity and indulgence. While women stayed pure, obedient, saleable. The book conveniently sanitized that air; the air here burned true.

Her old world indeed had the spine of matriarchy within the civil body. She wasn’t a fool, she’d been woke and reformed for years now. She acknowledged it, understood it, and guided her roasts online through that very lens. But even if she wasn’t completely perfect in her conduct, the consequences weren't as devastating as Left had described when he spoke of Neel’s mortal world. 

She’d already tasted the power gap once. That had been enough for her in this lifetime. Now that she was a jade beauty, if something mean enough decided to claim her, death might be the kind outcome.

She shook her head. ‘Not happening.’ 

She had no intention of becoming anyone’s pass-around or pretty captive. She felt a new appreciation of a man’s struggles. Sure, the dynamics of power seemed to favor the rawest idea here, but the concepts were the same. And that disparity was not for her. Not in this life. Not in any. There was only one target on her board, and he wasn’t replaceable by anyone…or anything.

But then another logic chain connected. ‘Since this was a reverse world, couldn’t my body just do most of the work to ensnare him?’

She patted her own chest and was met with the soft thud of a flat future.

“...Right. Evolution first,” she muttered, her face deadpan. 

‘My holy currency hasn’t grown in yet…’ The universal tools for capture. ‘But that can wait.’

Besides, she had an advantage, she understood men like this world made them. A compliment here, a gift there. And half the doors opened themselves. She grinned.

A small, predatory laugh curled out of her throat. Pink iris-petals turning as she rubbed her hands together; preparing for the coming feast!

Then a chillier thought poked the edges of her mind.

She had no interest in a harem, so it was fine. But what if Vain wanted a harem? Any world could corrupt. The wrong voices could whisper. A perfect man can be coaxed into imperfect ideals.

Her eyes darkened. ‘Would this fucker try to cuck me?’ The petals picked up speed.

No. No. It’s Vainglory. Her eyes slowed. He was loyalty incarnate and purity divine. He would accept her and only her. And if someone else approached…

She let it go before she drowned herself in the picture of piled up bodies. Instead, she rubbed her chin and pointed up. 

‘System.’

The translucent pane bloomed at her will.

High ranking potential, high base stats, and synergistic skills. A true boss template. But…

She scrolled down to what mattered.

[

Innate Abilities (Passive): Subtle Charm (S)
Innate Abilities (Active): Method Actor (S), Devil’s Whisper (B), Hasty Retreat (E, Mutable), Vicious Strike (A), Devilish Pose (EX)

Learned Abilities (Passive): Enduring Will (F - Growth), Cold Reading (C), Danger Sense (C)
Learned Abilities (Active): –

]

A read for a bit in silence.

‘Great. A kit built to seduce my man. But where’s my [Meteor Fist]?’

She opened the details anyway.

~~~

Method Actor (S): Your face is a theatre that never breaks. Voice, gait, micro-habits. Replicate what you’ve seen and make it live.

Note: Those horns will probably test your range.

Subtle Charm (S): You radiate grace. Clumsiness reads as endearing; poise reads as magnetic.

Note: They’ll forgive it, even love it. But you’ll still cringe inside.

Devil’s Whisper (B): Fold suggestion within your tone. With enough Charm, even ‘out of character’ becomes possible.

Note: Dies on contact with a raised guard or firmer will.

Hasty Retreat (E, Mutable): Vanish in a puff of smoke. Reappear at an angle a distance away.

Note: Open fields laugh at you.

Vicious Strike (A): Predation made into timing. Kill when they aren’t looking, where they aren’t looking. Damage scales with Dexterity.

Note: Don’t telegraph.

Devilish Pose (EX): A mutation (Intimidating Aura S + Subtle Charm S + 6-Star Heart Devil). You are rare and cute. The platform of chaos enjoys watching you. Therefore, twice per day, Strike a pose to warm the world's heart; fate itself will stall blades. Hardened killers hesitate; beasts blink. Friends… bring you gifts.

Note: How is this legal?

Enduring Will (F - Growth): You stood in a high level entity’s weather and didn’t fall apart. Some tolerance remains.

Note: He probably still feels really embarrassed about that. You’re his buddy!

Cold Reading (C): Conversing with featureless faces taught you to read what’s left. Micro-twitches, silences, cadence. File, pattern, push. Easier understanding means easier manipulation.

Note: Hmm, ok. Dark tool. Effective tool.

Danger Sense (C): Incoming harm hums against your nerves. Sense incoming danger.

Note: You’ll miss the knife in the rain from the front, but not the charging bull behind.

~~~

She closed the pane, thinking.

‘My bloodline is focused around charm, infiltration, and hit-and-run offense.’ 

No ‘Hannya’ in the canon. No Heart Devil on record either. The closest line was the Love Devils under the Luxuria branch. Spies by design, villains by placement in the novel. They charmed knives into other hands and watched cities turn on themselves once they entered mainland Neel.

In the book, the remnants of the Love Devils and two other families followed Shela, the half demon half devil hybrid. She was Hellnia’s protagonist, a demon lord who burned half of Central Neel to rip shackles off her kin. She was more of the anti-hero archetype; not a savior, a storm with purpose. 

After the gates fell, the humans captured and slaughtered anything that looked demonic. ‘Preventative measures’ they called it. When Shela returned to meet her family, she was met with a gutted house and a father, a Wrath Devil, picked clean. Her devil blood awoke that day. She returned to Hellnia, and the rest wrote itself.

‘Should I join her?’ She thought. A useful ally. It could be fun too. She killed two of the 14th hero party herself, quite formidable for a mortal. And then she let Damien walk after wiping his party… just to be killed by him later. Hannya shook her head; her jaw tightening.

That Damien is an eyesore.

She brushed that aside for now. She slid off the table she sat on and approached the center of the hall. Gula’s statue watched the temple with emptiness. It seems she left, the marble sat there, simply serene and beautiful.

“Yeah,” Hannya murmured. “She really is beautiful.”

She was curious if all devils looked like her, and how effective her own visage would be compared to others.

‘Charm, then.’ If her blood leaned toward it, she needed to understand it at the level beneath etiquette. What moved, what melted, what recoiled. Meteor fists was good, but it could wait; even a meteor needed a trajectory. 

‘Unorthodox, then orthodoxy with teeth.’

There were places for that here in Hellnia.

The tribe of the Bone Choir and their hypnotic notes.

The Eclipse Concord and their moonlight illusions.

The Dream Knights of Hazy Mountain.

‘Hmm, the Dream Knights… scales with Charm, and the style is kinda cool…’

The Dream Knights, charm and night demons holding a mountain where dreams bled through a giant fissure. Their lord, Baku 3rd Acedia, the Dream Eater. Not her first choice in a vacuum. But with her kit and timeline, that seemed to be the best path forward.

She grimaced at the thought of Baku for reasons she’d shelve later. “One problem at a time,” she told the empty pews. “My perfect being is waiting for me!”

As she turned, something white caught her eye, a folded slip of paper nestled on the statue’s lap. She lifted it free, smoothed the crease, and read its contents.

[

Dear little sister,

First, happy birthday, and welcome. Forgive my absence and apologies for spying; you were so lively I didn’t wish to startle you with an abrupt entrance. I mean you no harm.

I am the devil of this temple and I’ve left this to formally invite you to a welcoming feast at my grand temple in Sweet Oasis.

Date: First Landsday of Year 667. (Three years from today.)

Terms: No contracts. Free of charge. A gift upon attendance.

I hope you’ll make it.

Attached is a current map of Hellnia’s domains with Sweet Oasis marked, consider it goodwill. 

Survive well and grow.

Sincerely,

Queen of Feast, 1st Gula

P.S. I sense that your ancestral knowledge is awake, but be wary. Since the planar severance, the Devil Spire’s link is broken, so current information is dated; etiquette and honor have rotted. For now, avoid word-heavy deals with kin. Especially Greed.

]

‘Hm.’ Hannya’s mouth curled into a grin. The tone was clean. No pressure. Incentive without hooks. Three years gave a young devil room to evolve once, to test roads, to decide if the trip was worth the table. It was the kind of invitation that left you no practical excuse to refuse and all the leeway to ditch.

‘She even warned me.’ Hannya noted. The book had framed Gula as gluttonous, careless and doomed. But what kind of callous glutton walked with a human girl into a trap because she wanted to help? From first glance, it looked whimsical. An almighty being killing time with a pet. But it seemed the text had robbed a bit of context for the scene. Maybe Hannya’s focus on Vainglory had narrowed her lens more than she liked to admit.

Did she regret it? Of course not! In fact, currently, she shamelessly wished there were less scenes like that, and more of her cold handsome aura posing in the novel. 

“Later,” she told herself. “I’ll re-evaluate the story when there’s time.” She tucked the note and the map into the cloth she wore and faced the great doors at the end of the hall.

She walked up and placed her small hands on the doors. The hinges protested softly under her push. She paused at the threshold and looked back at Gula one last time.

‘An alliance with her might not be impossible.’

She stepped into the cave’s throat and let the dark world swallow her whole.

~~~

High above Hellnia, a hooded figure watched the small pink star leave the temple’s circle and tread into tunnels that didn’t love the unprepared. A dark beverage touched his tongue again. 

Gulp.

He tasted hope, risk and a familiar texture that always made taste curdle if one quit.

He could no longer touch the board so blatantly now. Only observe. Only pray to principle and palate, his own, of course.

Magical beasts and demons had given this place a wide berth, not because of the ward on Gula’s Temple, but because of the things that had settled and made a habit of hunting in the dark. He could see their outlines from here, content in the way predators get when everything came to them.

“Fight hard, little one,” he murmured into the glass. “Your spawn point is a little rough, but better than the devils waiting outside. At least for now.”

Sip.

He took another sip. Then smiled.

“Delicious.”