Chapter Text
The truth was out to the misfits and the teachers while other students were kept oblivious. Iruma was gone. Deported back to Human realm and all the memories of him staying in netherworld wiped out.
The white stone arches of the Royal One sat completely frozen, buried under a heavy, suffocating blanket of frost. Deep inside the absolute center of the grand classroom that Iruma had fought so hard to win for them, stood Asmodeus Alice and Clara Valac.
They had not gone to their home. They had not returned to their families after the terrifying chaos. They had simply walked back into this empty room and stood in the center of the floor, rooted to the spot like lifeless stone monuments.
The news of the finality of the deportation had already rippled through the school's high-ranking communication channels, confirmed by the weeping of the lower faculty: The human entity Suzuki Iruma has been pushed through the Otherworld Gate. The dimensional threshold is sealed. Memory reclamation protocols have achieved total dominance; the target’s consciousness is actively shedding all data regarding the Netherworld with every passing minute.
They were the ones who had been right there in that hallway. They were the ones who had held his hands right before Narnia snapped the iron collar around his neck and dragged him into the dark. Because they were his soulmates—the two primary pillars of his entire life—the reality of his absolute erasure didn't just break them. It caused a catastrophic, apocalyptic psychological death inside their souls.
There was no noise inside the Royal One. There was no screaming. The silence between them was a suffocating, crushing black hole.
Asmodeus stood completely rigid beside Iruma’s empty, pristine desk. His magnificent uniform was violently torn at the collar where he had desperately clawed at his own throat just to find air to breathe. His breath came out in short, ragged, icy plumes, but his eyes—usually flashing with a fierce, brilliant pink fire—were completely wide, hollow, and dead. His pupils were shrunk to tiny, pinprick dots, staring blankly at the empty wooden chair where their sun used to sit and smile.
Right beside the desk, collapsed heavily onto the floor, was Clara. Her signature, chaotic green hair hung in matted, tangled clumps over her face, completely blocking out the room. Her hands were clutched tightly over her ears, her fingers digging so violently into her scalp that thin lines of dark blood mixed with the sweat on her neck. She was rocking back and forth in a minute, rhythmic tremor, her teeth grinding together with a sickening, metallic click that echoed off the frozen stone walls.
"Iruma-chi..." Clara whispered. The word didn't sound like her. The bright, booming, joyful voice that could fill the entire academy was entirely gone. It was a raspy, dying whistle. "Where is... who is... Iruma-chi..."
The psychological trauma was total. The memory of his final words to them was a rusted blade turning continuously in their chests. He had thanked them. He had apologized for being a human. And then, he had left them with his very first, desperate, and selfish command: “Help me. Find me and bring me back.”
And they had done absolutely nothing. They had stood there like cowards while the law dragged him away.
For Asmodeus, the realization was a literal execution of his entire identity. His entire purpose—his pride, his magic, his absolute devotion—was built entirely around being Iruma’s shield. He had sworn an oath on his demonic life to stand by Iruma’s side, to carry his burdens, and to help him ascend to the absolute top of the Netherworld. Finding out that Iruma was a human didn't diminish that devotion; it amplified it to a terrifying, maddening degree. He realized that while he was safely enjoying his high noble status, Iruma was walking through a slaughterhouse, terrified and alone, just to stay with them.
And now, Iruma was forgetting. The fireworks they threw into the sky. The Royal One. The tea they shared. The way Asmodeus always bowed and called his name with absolute pride.
Every single tick of the clock was violently scrubbing Asmodeus Alice out of Iruma’s mind. To the Iruma on the other side of the gate, Asmodeus would become a nameless, faceless nothing. A blank space in a dead memory.
"I am his soulmate," Asmodeus whispered, his voice dropping into a register so deep, cold, and flat it sounded like it belonged to a corpse. Slowly, his head tilted upward, staring at the high ceiling of the Royal One. The hollow look in his eyes suddenly shattered, replaced by an icy, unhinged crimson light that radiated a monstrous, demonic bloodlust. "I am his shield. If he forgets... then I have no reason to exist. If he forgets... then this entire world has no right to stand."
Beside him, Clara’s rocking suddenly stopped.
She dropped her hands from her ears. Her face, usually so expressive and bright, was a frozen mask of pure, unadulterated horror. Her eyes were completely wide, staring into the empty air, dilating until the green of her irises turned black. Her unique bloodline ability, Toy Box, which allowed her to manifest any object she had ever seen out of pure joy and fun, suddenly underwent a terrifying, dark mutation right there in the classroom.
Demons are creatures of ultimate impulse. When a demon of pure, unbridled joy is dropped into the deepest, darkest abyss of absolute despair, the magic doesn't just fail—it warps into a weapon of mass destruction.
The air inside the Royal One violently pressurized. The sweet, innocent mana that usually followed Clara turned rancid and heavy. The pockets on her skirt began to tear open from the inside out, not spitting out toys, candy, or board games, but manifesting jagged, rusted iron spikes, heavy executioner chains, and broken, lethal weaponry that clattered aggressively onto the frozen stone floor. Her magic was no longer a toy box; it was a torture chamber responding to the absolute, suffocating desolation in her heart.
"Playtime is over," Clara said, her voice completely flat, devoid of a single shred of emotion. She stood up, her movements mechanical, like a broken doll. The chains manifesting from her pockets dragged heavily against the floor, sparks flying against the stone. "If Iruma-chi isn't here... everything is broken. We have to break everything else too."
The two of them stood side by side in the center of the empty classroom, entirely hollowed out by grief, yet simultaneously filled with a terrifying, limitless malice that transcended anything the Misfit Class had ever seen. They were no longer Iruma's gentle friends. They were a pair of grieving, broken monsters who had completely bypassed the rules of the school and the Netherworld.
Asmodeus raised his right hand. Instantly, a massive, towering column of unbridled, violet fire erupted from his palm, slamming into the heavy doors of the Royal One, blasting them off their hinges and out into the hallway. The stone walls began to melt under the immense, unnatural heat of his raw wrath.
"We are going," Asmodeus said, his aura flaring into a suffocating, apocalyptic cloud of pure bloodlust that shook the foundation of the entire Royal One. "We will tear down this school. We will slaughter every officer, every high demon, and every member of the 13 Crowns who stands in our way. If his mind is empty, we will drag him back and burn our names into his soul until he remembers us."
They didn't care about the Human Deportation Act. They didn't care about the law, the government, or the threat of immediate execution. The two closest to him had officially crossed the point of no return. Together, they stepped through the shattered entrance of the Royal One, ready to wage a two-demon war against the entire universe just to bring their sun back home.