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It was winter on the West Coast. As the sun set and night rose, the temperature plummeted.

The people on the streets tightened their coats, wrapping scarves around their necks and putting on gloves. Everyone was running back to their warm house.

The workers at the docks were still busy though.

Those docks were not like the cargo-oriented Hologest Port. Tourism was the top priority there.

Outside of the docks, cars were parked in an orderly manner. Beside them was a polite attendant.

Philly sighed over the service. Truth be told, after living on the sea for so long, this depressed him. Even though it was a luxurious ferry ride, the bunch of old-fashioned, strict people around him made him feel like a prisoner.

"Is this the West Coast? It sure feels good to stand on solid ground! I wonder if there’s anything interesting here to cure my boredom?" Philly asked the attendant, tightening his coat.

"My apologies, sir. I’m just a driver..." the attendant answered in a courteous manner.

"A driver with a gun? Seems like those old-fashioned idiots are collaborating with some powerful people on the West Coast!" Philly grunted under his breath.

As he looked around casually, he saw a man standing not far away from the fleet of cars.

The young man was wearing a black-feathered mantle and carrying a huge box. His odd outfit caught Philly’s attention right away. He was sure the young man was not from the East Coast.

Although Philly hated old-fashioned people, his deep dislike helped him remember everyone on that ship.

The man in the special outfit was not from his group...

"A mystical individual from the West Coast?" Philly guessed as he walked straight up to him.

"Hey, mate! Any place to have fun here, if you know what I mean? A place where you can spend money on some long legs and big boobs..." Philly said.

The young man frowned hard. He was not disgusted. This was just the natural reaction of someone who was being disturbed.

His reaction intrigued Philly. There were not that many people who reacted so strangely to him.

Most mystics avoided him like the plague, and those with a poorer attitude scolded him outright.

"Are all West Coast mystics this interesting?" Philly wondered before he started firing a barrage of questions.

"What are you thinking? What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous for you to turn up here?"

His relentless questions made Kieran turn his head towards him. He was wearing a wind coat, and his two small tufts of moustache and hair were neatly combed and gelled.

Kieran frowned even harder. That man was an East Coast mystic.

He confirmed his identity when he realized the man had come down from the ferry.

It was just that the image he presented...

According to Simones’ descriptions, the East Coast had not experienced the Blood Moon War, so they had been able to preserve their traditions.

Even though not all the mystical individuals of the East Coast obeyed them, no one should be asking about the location of a brothel like that.

"Hey, mate! I don’t know what you are doing here, but I suggest you leave. Those fellas are not as fun as I am. They are here to stir some sh*t up. They have a really bad temper! If I were you, I’d leave the West Coast and go on vacation at some rural village. I know it’s awful to live in the countryside without beautiful women and places to gamble, but it beats losing your life, doesn’t it?" Philly said with a shrug.

He was quite fond of Kieran, so he didn’t mind giving him some advice.

After all, it would be a pity for that young man to lose his life like that.

"I suppose he’s never had a woman before..." Philly thought as he looked at Kieran. He looked mature, but he still had a young face.

Kieran was standing still as a javelin, rooted on the spot, as if he hadn’t heard what Philly had said.

Philly rolled his eyes.

"Stubborn people always lose in the end!" he muttered, ready to get back to his group. He had done all he could. If Kieran didn’t want his advice, what else could he do?

Force him to leave? Philly hated to force others into doing things they didn’t want to.

If his comrades realized he was still missing, he would get punished.

All the couple of old geezers that were leading the group this time wanted was to obliterate the West Coast mystics. Anyone who delayed them would be punished.

Philly had gotten punished hard a couple of times before. Although he was sure the old geezers had done it on purpose to make an example out of him, this didn’t diminish his dislike for them or his effort to obey their orders.

Philly had no intention of getting punished again.

As that thought bloomed in his mind, he hastened his steps. However, the very next moment, he was blasted up into the air.

A burning energy wave whipped an unstoppable force and assaulted him from behind. Unable to resist the wave, he was sent flying.

As he floated in mid-air, Philly opened his eyes wide, looking at the scene behind him in shock.

Gosh, what he saw!

Wings formed by pure flames and a four-meter tall body with horns as sharp as blades were spiraling upwards, as if they were piercing the sky.

The Devil! How could the Devil appear on the West Coast?

As soon as he got over his shock, Philly’s mind flooded with questions.

Everyone from the East Coast who had come with Philly had the same thought.

Soon, they wouldn’t be able to figure out the answer to that question anymore.

As the Devil spread its tremendous fiery wings, extremely hot flames were blasted out like shockwaves, sweeping everyone in their path.

A part of the East Coast mystics didn’t even get a chance to react. They were immediately turned into charred corpses.

The dead bodies smelled like sulphur, their stench spreading throughout the docks.

Suddenly, the mystic runes on the Devil’s fiery wings glowed once more, following a bright shine of the flames.

"Form a fire-resistant barrier!" one of the leaders of the East Coast mystics shouted.

He was holding a small round shield in his hand, which was shining with a dazzling light. A huge force field barrier was formed around everyone, but as the fiery flames crashed against the barrier, the dazzling light dimmed down right away and started to shatter.

At the shattering noise, their leader was sent flying as if a truck had hit him, crashing down against the crowd. No one could spare any time to check on him though.

A dark red two-handed great sword appeared in the Devil’s right hand. Compared to his height, the great sword looked like a small blade.

As it was swept across the East Coast mystics though, its extremely long, wide sharp body was like the scythe of the Reaper, sowing souls with a ruthless sweep.

[Arrogant Word] emitted a bewitching red glare. Its wild, untamed aura fused with the chaotic, rampant mystical power of the Devil and turned into a killing typhoon, ravaging anything in its path.

The East Coast mystics were not going to sit around and die though. Their hearts were erupting with killing intent. Every single one of them was determined to take down the Devil, even if they died.

They all pulled out their aces as spell incantations were heard throughout the docks.

Some of the mystics dashed towards the Devil with frenzied screams.

The front row was trying to buy some time for the back row to prepare their spells. They attacked with deadly resolution, yet the mystical weapons in their hands, which could cut through gold and break jade, were weak and ineffective against the Devil.

None of their attacks worked, but it was enough to stall.

The spell preparations had entered the final stage.

The chilling light of the moon was blocked as a big dark cloud was formed in the sky. Lightning bolts were dancing like snakes, and thunder was roaring all around.

Suddenly, three lightning bolts as thick as water barrels struck down from the cloud.

The Devil’s body was blasted by the force of nature.

Then despair appeared on each and every face of the East Coast mystics.

The devil was unscathed.

...

"It’s over!"

Rosland sighed softly after watching the scene at the docks through his crystal ball. His aged face was filled with delight.

He was amazed by the power of the Bird of Death and delighted that he had bet on the right side.

Rosland unconsciously turned to his granddaughter, who was overwhelmed by the scene on the crystal ball.

"Do you understand now?" Rosland asked.

"How... How could he..."

Tally was pointing at the Devil’s figure, who was slaughtering everyone.

She never would have thought that Kieran would have the ability to transform into a Devil. It was unbelievable!

"You knew all along?" Tally looked at her grandfather.

"No..." Rosland shook his head.

"Then why?" Tally’s eyes were filled with doubt. She knew her grandfather was not lying to her, but she was confused about why he would make such a decision.

"Because I believe in the God of Earth. I believed in her Majesty’s prophecy!" the old man said, bowing at the space before him.

Tally did not mock her grandfather for bowing before empty air. She was staring quietly at the projection of the massacre on the crystal ball.

She was speechless.

Translator’s Thoughts

Dess Dess

What is the cost of transforming into his devil form though and this is the debut of Kieran’s famous form!