A Trap for You

Black snakes. White snakes. Vines pulsing with emerald vitality, and scales gliding over those very vines.

They slithered out from the fissures carved by the impact, wrapping themselves around the corpses of the Demon King's army. The moment they touched severed flesh, the rotting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meat fused back together. Stark white roots burrowed deep into shattered bones. A demon whose heart had seemingly stopped arched its back in a violent spasm.

Arcel's eyes narrowed.

"Regeneration... No," he muttered under his breath. "This isn't healing."

His adjutant gasped. "Then what is it?"

Arcel couldn't answer.

To the naked eye, it looked like healing. The flesh of the dying demons knit back together, the bleeding stopped, and shattered joints snapped back into place. But this was no normal recovery. The way the wounds closed was too fast, too violent, and far too grotesque. It wasn't that life force was flowing in to revitalize the damaged tissue; rather, an entirely different form of life was colonizing the inside of the wounds.

They weren't surviving. They were being overwritten. A foreign life was taking root inside their dying bodies.

Arcel flipped open his logbook. His hand flew across the page.

"Captain," the adjutant's voice trembled. "That..."

"I know," Arcel gritted his teeth. He knew all too well.

The Sword Order hadn't secured complete intelligence on the Zodiacs. The highest executives of the Demon King's Army always killed their targets long before any information could escape. Even so, a few names circulated as classified secrets within the Order. Leo. Virgo. Taurus. Sagittarius. Hisa. And... Ophiuchus. Asklepios.

The dust parted. A man stepped out from the haze.

The first thing that came into view was a pale hand. It was not a hand built for gripping a sword, nor was it holding a mage's staff. It was completely empty. Yet, from his fingertips, blue and black light flowed in unison.

His fingers were long—excessively slender, excessively beautiful. They looked less like human hands and more like a sculptor's idealized creation.

With a light wave of his hand, the vines rising from the ground parted silently, revealing the man's face.

Silver-white hair. It was the exact same shade as Ena's. But where Ena's hair shone like a brilliant blade under the sun, his flowed coldly, like scales drenched in moonlight.

His eyes were clear. Too clear, which only made them more unsettling. There was no human hesitation in them. No trace of self-doubt. No sign of empathy for the suffering of others. They were the eyes of someone who believed they were beautiful, superior, and that their mere presence on this battlefield gave meaning to all things.

His face closely resembled Ena's. To be precise, it was as if someone had stripped Ena's face of all human exhaustion, irritation, duty, and the raw will to survive, filling the void with arrogance, leisure, and a pathological narcissism.

The moment Arcel saw that face, his breath caught. They look alike. Too alike. That was the most sickening part.

Ena stood slightly ahead. Cheonram was still in her hand. The wind that had been flowing along the dark grey blade had been disrupted by the recent impact, but it hadn't vanished entirely. It swirled low around Ena's wrist, shifting directions as if on high alert against the newcomer.

Ena stared at the man. Her expression barely changed. But Arcel saw it. A movement so subtle, so incredibly difficult to catch—Ena's fingers tightened their grip on Cheonram's hilt.

The man saw this and smiled. It was a smirk that only pulled up the corners of his mouth. Even that smile was uncannily similar to hers. It made it all the more repulsive to watch.

"My original," he said. His voice was low and smooth. A cold, slippery tone. If a long-tongued serpent were to learn human speech, it would sound exactly like this. "As expected, you possess a beautiful form, much like my own."

The battlefield fell momentarily still. The remnants of the Demon King's army, the members of the 5th Squad, and Arcel himself—for a brief second, the exact same thought crossed everyone's mind: What did he just say?

Ena stared at the man. Then, she blinked very slowly.

"...By any logical metric, is it not you who resembles me?"

Her voice was low and dry. So dry, in fact, that it sounded bizarrely casual for someone addressing a monster that had just dropped onto the battlefield.

"Is that so?" He tilted his head slightly, his silver-white hair cascading over his shoulder. "But since I was born as myself, I am my own standard."

Ena's eyes turned cold. "Born, you say?" A faint trace of mockery laced her words. "You mean manufactured."

The man's smile deepened. "Is a manufactured life inferior to a natural-born one?"

He slowly raised his hand. A tiny sprout budded from his fingertip. It was a pale, tender green that looked entirely out of place on this blackened battlefield. The sprout grew into a flower in the blink of an eye. A white flower. In its center was a black dot. Like a pupil.

"On the contrary, I was selected." The petals unfurled one by one. From within, a tiny snake poked its head out. "Your blood." The flower crumbled into dust. "Your flesh." The snake coiled around the man's finger. "The traces of your endurance against the heat."

He spoke softly. "The Demon King gathered everything you spilled upon the battlefield."

Even for a demon, there were limits to depravity. Ena stared at the man. She already knew. He was a clone created by the Demon King, who had painstakingly collected Ena's blood and flesh from the battlefields. Ophiuchus of the Zodiac. Asklepios. A male-presenting countermeasure designed specifically against Ena, synthesized from her wounds and remnants.

A hidden, top-tier entity of the Demon King's Army, bestowed with all manner of abilities. Overwhelming regenerative power. High intelligence. Magic that could overpower even archmages. Near-immortal vitality. Plant manipulation. Snakes. And even a twisted reflection of Ena's worst traits—her arrogance and laziness.

Ena recalled the intelligence. But seeing him in person was a different story. Reading about it on paper was nothing like having a man who shared her face smiling right in front of her.

This feels absolutely disgusting, Ena thought.

To be precise, a much longer string of curses flashed through her mind. But she didn't let them slip past her lips. If the Commander-in-Chief suddenly launched into a stream of profanity on the battlefield, the 5th Squad might record it. She didn't want that. Arcel was exactly the type of person who would actually write it down.

'Commander-in-Chief used profanity immediately upon encountering Asklepios. Emotional agitation confirmed.' She would rather die than have such a sentence immortalized in an official report.

Ena lowered Cheonram ever so slightly. Asklepios watched the movement, his smile widening.

"Cheonram," he said. "A fine sword."

Arcel's hand froze. He knows that too. Asklepios knew the sword's name. That meant he had been watching the battle. From where? For how long? In what manner? Arcel's eyes darted rapidly around.

The forest. The earth. The roots. The snakes. The vegetative structures. Healing and vitality. There had been no spatial distortions. The traces of a direct connection to the observation spell pillars were faint. If so...

Is it the roots? Arcel scribbled furiously on his logbook.

Asklepios's gaze briefly drifted toward Arcel. Arcel's hand froze. He was standing far away, shielded behind the barrier. Yet, that gaze felt as though it was landing precisely on his logbook.

Asklepios chuckled. "Is that fellow your scribe?"

Ena didn't answer. Asklepios continued on his own. "Excellent taste. Beautiful things ought to be recorded. Especially if they are destined to disappear soon."

A chill ran down Arcel's spine.

Asklepios watched the reaction with leisurely amusement. He was in no hurry, standing there as if the battlefield were already his personal garden. As the dust settled, the things growing around him became clearer. Black vines. White roots. Scaled stalks. Branches moving like serpents. At their tips, small flowers bloomed. Every single flower had an eye. Some resembled the eyes of dead demons, others looked human, and some were uncannily similar to Ena's eye color.

Ena looked at the flowers. Her mood soured further. "Your tastes are vulgar."

"Vulgar, you say?" Asklepios looked down at the flowers surrounding him. "I deal with life. Life is inherently beautiful, and beautiful things are bound to be a little grotesque."

"Calling a grotesque thing beautiful does not make it art."

"That hurts," he said, though his face showed not a shred of pain. "I expected to be disliked by my original, but I didn't think my aesthetic sense would be rejected so thoroughly."

"Do not call me your original."

"Then what should I call you?"

Ena didn't answer. Asklepios pretended to ponder for a moment. Then, he smiled. "Mother?"

Ena's eyes turned ice-cold.

The moment Arcel heard that word, his breath hitched. Mother. It was a word that had no place on a battlefield. Yet, coming from that man's mouth, it became something far more sickening than the war itself.

Ena tightened her grip on Cheonram's hilt. The dark grey wind let out a low growl. She had not yet drawn Ilryun. However, her aura shifted ever so slightly. Asklepios saw this and narrowed his eyes, his face alight with sheer delight.

"Is it still too early?" he murmured. "I shall save that title for next time. I am a patient man. I may be lazy when it comes to work, but I am quite generous when waiting for beautiful things."

Ena understood. He was provoking her. At the same time, he was observing her, testing which words would elicit a reaction.

"Ah. Original," Asklepios said suddenly. The playful smirk remained on his face, but the texture of his voice shifted. Ena heard the change. Arcel did too. It was a sound like a snake rustling through the grass—light, slow, yet scraping uncomfortably against the inner ear.

Asklepios tilted his head back slightly, as if looking at the sky. No, like a man who already knew what was about to fall from beyond the heavens. He spoke softly: "Dodge."

Before the word could even leave his mouth, the sky split open.

Swoooooosh!

The sound came first—the screech of arrows tearing through the air. But it wasn't just a single arrow. It wasn't even dozens. There were hundreds, perhaps more. The darkness beneath the storm clouds fractured into thin lines of light. Cursed arrows of gold and crimson demonic energy rained down from the black sky like falling stars. Like a deluge. Like a judgment.

They fell simultaneously upon the remnants of the Demon King's army, the collapsed outpost, the rear barrier where the 5th Squad was retreating, and the center of the battlefield where Ena stood.

Arcel's eyes widened. "It's Sagittarius!" his voice burst out reflexively. "Barrier unit, shield the sky!"

But the arrows were faster than his command. The first arrow slammed into the 5th Squad's barrier. *Boom!*

The barrier shuddered. A second, a third, a fifth, a tenth. *Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Arrows of light detonated against the barrier. These were no ordinary projectiles. They weren't simple demonic energy shells that exploded on impact. Each arrow carried penetration, explosion, and a curse all at once. Upon contact with the barrier's surface, they pierced it first, carving fissures inward before detonating from within. Once the explosion cleared, black embers remained, slowly eating away at the barrier.

Arcel gritted his teeth. "Do not let go of the double barrier! Even if the outer layer holds, the curse will spread inward! Purge the residual demonic energy!"

"Yes, sir!" the 5th Squad members scrambled.

But Arcel already knew. This attack wasn't targeted at them. It was a greeting. An opening salvo announcing the sniper's arrival on the battlefield. The archer wasn't even here yet. No, the fact that they weren't here made them all the more dangerous. Beyond their field of vision, beyond what they wanted to believe was their maximum range, the sniper was targeting the entire battlefield.

Asklepios was smiling. He didn't move an inch to dodge. The arrows rained down around him. Black snakes reared their heads. White roots stretched toward the sky. Vines instantly intertwined to form a living dome. The arrows slammed into it. *Crash!*

Vines were shredded, snakes exploded, and flowers burned. Yet, new vines sprouted from the torn gaps. Tiny serpents crawled out from the flesh of the exploded snakes. In the center of the charred flowers, the eyes opened once more. Asklepios stood beneath it all, completely untouched by a single speck of dust.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he muttered. "I was still in the middle of introductions."

Ena was already in motion. Cheonram's wind surged upward. She didn't try to slash every single arrow—the area was too vast. Instead, Cheonram targeted only the necessary trajectories. Ena flicked her wrist, pointing the dark grey blade skyward. Her movement was brief, but a gust of wind erupted from that short path.

*Whooooosh!*

A circular current of air unfurled over the center of the battlefield like an inverted umbrella. The moment the arrows hit the current, they lost their direction. To be precise, their trajectories were hijacked.

The arrows plunging in a straight line bent around Ena's head. Some deflected outward, some collided with one another, and others detonated prematurely as they drifted into the paths of incoming projectiles. A chain reaction of explosions erupted in the sky. *Boom!* The space beneath the storm clouds flashed a violent crimson.

"Captain!" the adjutant screamed. "The outer two layers of the barrier have been destroyed!"

"Shift the inner layers! Do not keep them stationary! If they stay in one spot, they will be pierced!"

"Yes, sir!"

Before the rain of arrows could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even subside, the earth rumbled. This time, the threat came not from above, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but from below.

At first, it felt like an earthquake. The dry soil of the Eastern Outskirts trembled. Then, stones began to bounce—small pebbles first, then larger rocks. Boulder fragments embedded in the ruins of the outpost floated into the air before rolling away in all directions, pushed by an unseen force.

Ena lowered her gaze. Asklepios narrowed his eyes in delight. "Ah. The other one has arrived."

Simultaneously, a hill to the southwest of the battlefield rose. No, it looked as if the hill itself had stood up. *Ruuuumble!* The earth split. Bedrock that had been buried for decades was flipped inside out. Soil, rock, and tree roots erupted into the sky all at once. From beneath the debris, a colossal shadow pushed its way up.

Horns. The first things to appear were horns. They belonged to neither ram nor bull, but were far larger and thicker than both. Rough as black stone, molten red demonic energy flowed across their surfaces like lava.

The horns tore through the earth, followed by a pair of massive shoulders. A colossal physique. A thick neck. A dark hide so dense it was impossible to tell where skin ended and armor began. A weight so immense that the ground sank with every step he took. Taurus. The moment that name crossed Arcel's mind, the back of his neck went stiff.

"Taurus has appeared," Arcel gritted out. "Terrain-destruction type. Ground stability in the vanguard has collapsed. Everyone, watch your footing!"

Before the order could even finish, Taurus moved. He wasn't fast, but he didn't need to be. He didn't charge. He simply stomped his foot. *Thump!* With that single stomp, the terrain collapsed. The ground between Ena and Asklepios caved inward. Fissures spiderwebbed in all directions.

These cracks were no mere seismic activity; black demonic energy surged from within them. It was a curse that devoured the weight and balance of anyone standing on the ground—a downward pull the moment one's foot made contact. It was the exact kind of pressure a knight hated most when trying to maintain their stance.

Several members of the 5th Squad stumbled. "Footing barriers!" Arcel shouted. "Support them with aerial barriers! Do not trust the ground!"

Ena didn't leap. She lowered Cheonram, letting the tip of the blade graze the splitting earth. As she did, wind rippled across the ground. It was a sword path similar to the one she had used to disrupt the giant demonic beast's posture earlier. But this time was different. The fissures created by Taurus didn't just drain pressure; the earth itself was twisting like a living enemy.

Cheonram's wind burrowed into the cracks, reading the direction of the split and severing the flow. Several fissures ground to a halt. But not all of them. Taurus stomped his foot a second time.

*Thump!*

This time, the shockwave was wider. The cracks reached right beneath Ena's feet. Cheonram's wind shifted direction a beat too late. Ena shifted her weight slightly. Her white robes folded in midair as her toes touched down on a fragment of rock. *Tap.* It was a tiny sound, but with that single step, her posture was perfectly restored.

Watching her, Arcel thought: I need to record even a single footstep like that. But there is too much happening right now. Arrows continued to rain from Sagittarius in the sky. Taurus was shattering the terrain below.

Asklepios stood laughing in the center of the battlefield. And in the distance, the approaching pressure of Leo was drawing closer. There was too much to record. Too many ways to die. This was truly the worst battlefield imaginable. But the worst was not over yet.

The air changed. Arcel felt it on his skin first. It wasn't cold, nor was it heat. It was a scent. A sweet smell. Like rotten fruit mixed with incense. Like a hospital room pooled with stagnant blood, packed with fresh flowers. The moment the scent entered his nostrils, a member of the 5th Squad began to cough dryly.

"Captain, this is..."

"Hold your breath," Arcel ordered immediately. "It's Scorpio." He scowled. "There will be poison."

A black mist drifted out from the low forest to the east. The mist didn't settle on the ground. Instead, it rose slightly, hovering at waist height, then neck height—the exact level where it would be inhaled deepest. From within the mist, something crawled out.

A long tail. A curved stinger. Thin, sharp limbs. And a demon with a human upper body. His eyes were narrow, a smirk playing on his lips. As the liquid dripping from the tip of his stinger touched the ground, the soil melted into black ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sludge. Scorpio. The Zodiac of Poison. He hadn't rushed to join the fray; he had released his scent first. The poison arrived first. The body followed. That was his method.

"Detoxification barrier," Arcel commanded. "Do not blow it away with wind. If you push it, it will only spread. Lock it down and suppress it."

"Yes, sir!"

Arcel looked toward Ena. Cheonram was a sword of wind. Its compatibility with poison mist could be either excellent or terrible. If she pushed it incorrectly, it would disperse across the entire battlefield. If she cut it precisely, she could sever the flow of the poison.

Ena stared at Scorpio. She executed a brief, subtle movement with Cheonram. The sword swept sideways. The wind wasn't strong; in fact, it was remarkably gentle. It wasn't a wind meant to blow the poison mist away, but one meant to slice it thin. It divided the currents within the mist into layers, preventing them from mixing. Scorpio's toxic mist split around Ena. Two paths. Four paths. Divided into thin layers, they drifted past her, unable to touch her.

Yet, Scorpio laughed. "As expected," his voice echoed from within the mist. "You cut it. You do not burn it."

Those words struck Arcel's ears. You do not burn it. They knew too. They knew Ena had not yet drawn Ilryun. They knew she was holding them off with Cheonram alone. Whether her reason was tactical, a limitation, or preparation for something greater, the Demon King's army was watching. They were reading her. They were applying pressure.

Asklepios remained at the center of it all, smiling. "Everyone is so hasty," he said softly. "I haven't finished our conversation yet."

Sagittarius's arrows rained down from the sky once more. This was no simple bombardment. The arrows descended on wildly different trajectories before snapping mid-flight. Several targeted Ena. Several targeted the 5th Squad. A few fell around Asklepios, intentionally shredding his vines. From the torn vines, even more snakes poured out. Asklepios seemed to relish the chaos.

Taurus stomped his foot again. *Thump!* The ground flipped. Scorpio's poison mist seeped into the fractured terrain, traveling beneath the earth. It spread along the fissures, heading straight toward the 5th Squad's rear.

Arcel's eyes darkened. "The poison is traveling underground! Add a detoxification layer to the footing barriers!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Recovery unit, abandon the equipment! Get the people out first!"

His subordinates scrambled. But an even greater pressure was closing in on the center of the battlefield.

*Thud. Thump. Thud.* This time, there was no mistake. It was Leo.

He was not yet visible, but the pressure alone made his presence clear. The canopy of the distant forest swayed violently. Trees collapsed first. He wasn't carving a path as he came; the path was disintegrating before him.

Asklepios turned his head. "Leo will be here soon." He chuckled. "It is about to get rather noisy."

Ena stood holding Cheonram. Arrows. Collapsing terrain. Poison mist. Vines and snakes. And the approaching Leo. The battlefield had fractured into too many directions in an instant.

Only then did Arcel understand why Asklepios had told her to dodge at the very beginning. It hadn't been out of kindness, nor was it simple mockery. He had simply known. He knew the other Zodiacs had already launched their attacks. He knew this battlefield was no longer a one-on-one duel. If Ena didn't dodge, she would be overwhelmed from all sides simultaneously.

"Commander-in-Chief!" Arcel's voice burst out. "This is not a range you can defend against with Cheonram alone!"

Ena didn't answer. She stared at Asklepios. Asklepios stared back, his smile unwavering.

"Original," he said. "Are you not afraid?"

Everything converged on Ena in a single instant. Cheonram's dark grey wind roared violently. Ena gripped her sword. And in a very low, incredibly quiet voice, she spoke.

"How noisy."

With those words, Cheonram moved. First, the sky. Her sword path swept upward, and Sagittarius's arrows lost their direction in midair. Next, the earth. She pressed the pommel of her scabbard downward, halting the shifting currents of the fractured ground. Next, the poison. Her blade swept sideways, dividing the layers of mist so they drifted harmlessly past her. Finally, the vines. Cheonram spun in a tight arc, severing the black snakes and white roots Asklepios had unleashed in a single stroke.

Yet, new sprouts budded from the severed roots. Asklepios laughed.

"Wonderful," he said, his face filled with ecstasy. "Truly wonderful."

Ena's eyes grew colder.

Watching the exchange, Arcel gripped his logbook tightly. Cheonram was responding. But this was merely a response. It was not the initiative. The Demon King's army was forcing Ena to rely on Cheonram. From all sides. With different attributes. With different pressures. No matter how precise a single sword was, if the entire battlefield bit down at once, it would eventually reach its limit.

Arcel knew this. And he knew an even more terrifying truth: Ena knew it too. Yet, she still had not drawn Ilryun. Why? Why was she still holding back? The question rose to his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to ask it.

Right then, the forest in the distance split completely open. *Crash!* Black trees exploded to the left and right. From the gap, the golden eyes of a lion gleamed. Leo. Tarkan. He had finally made his appearance on the battlefield. He was charging, shockwaves building with every step. His muscles swelled, and black patterns pulsed across his skin. He was laughing.

"Well, well," Leo said. Though he was still far away, his voice carried across the entire battlefield. "Look at this gathering."

Asklepios tilted his head slightly. "You are late, Leo."

"The path was fragile," Leo laughed. "It crumbled under my feet."

Taurus growled low. Scorpio clicked his tongue from behind the poison mist. Somewhere in the sky, Sagittarius notched another arrow.

Arcel felt his fingertips go cold. This was a hunt. The Demon King's army hadn't sent soldiers; they had sent an entire environment. Each Zodiac had become a localized disaster, tightening the noose around Ena. And at the center of it all, Asklepios stood smiling.

"Now," Ophiuchus said. "Let us bring this to a definitive end. Original."

As everyone held their breath in suffocating tension, the very first thing Ena did...

"Fifth Squad. All of you. Retreat."

"What?"

*Rip.* She tore a mass teleportation magic scroll, targeting the 5th Squad.