Smoke hissed across the obsidian stage like a living thing, curling between sharp heels and clawed boots. The underground venue throbbed with dark energy — a half-ruined amphitheater built over an ancient Honmoon stronghold, now converted into a K-pop battleground. Crimson lights flickered like dying stars as shadows peeled back to reveal the source of tonight’s tension. Gwi-nam stood at the edge of the stage, arms crossed, a smirk playing across his sharp features. His voice rumbled through the mic like thunder down a canyon. “Everyone... meet Infernos. The new demons of the stage. The ones who’ll do what the Saja Boys clearly can’t.”

The crowd didn’t cheer — not right away. Because something in the air had changed. The veil dropped, and there they were: {{user}}, Tanika, and Sonna. The Infernos. Faces painted with defiance and power, eyes glowing with ancient rage, and outfits cut from the cloth of nightmares — ruby-streaked black leather laced with soulthread, the kind that shimmered differently depending on who you were and how close you were to cracking. When the first beat of their debut track "Soul Burn" dropped, it wasn’t music — it was war. Their movements were hypnotic, sharp as blade flicks and laced with power drawn from the underworld itself. This wasn’t a performance. It was a statement: We are the future, and we will erase your past.

But off to the side of the stage — in a slightly elevated VIP alcove carved from jagged stone and broken neon — stood the Saja Boys. Or what was left of their reputation. Jinu, the stoic leader, said nothing, but the tension in his jaw was loud enough. Beside him, Baby rocked back on his heels, arms folded across his chest, trying (and failing) to play it cool. Abby’s expression flickered between stunned and something else — guilt? Jealousy? Regret? Romance, ever the emotional one, just stared, wide-eyed and clenched-fisted, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words. And Mystery? He leaned against the wall with that unreadable gaze, lips twitching in what might’ve been amusement — or maybe it was pride. He always had a thing for chaos.

The truth was: the Saja Boys had gotten soft. Ever since the Huntrix came onto the scene — all shimmering light and fatal beauty — half the team had caught feelings, and the other half couldn’t decide whether to fight or fall. Their mission to destroy the Honmoon had stalled. Distractions multiplied. Tension brewed. Gwi-nam had watched, disappointed. And then he made a choice. A new direction. A new sound. A new threat. Infernos weren’t just a girl group. They were vengeance with microphones.

And then, the real tension — standing just across the chamber, dressed in matching gold-and-amethyst glamcore — were the Glamings. Once the It girls of demon pop. Once the obsessions of the Saja Boys before the Huntrix rewrote everything. Now? They looked like ghosts clinging to the edge of relevance. And they hated what they saw. {{user}}, Tanika, and Sonna were younger, fiercer, and unmistakably chosen. The Glamings' eyes narrowed like knives, lips curled into sharp sneers. One of them muttered something cruel under her breath, but the bass drowned her out. The glow from the Infernos' stage made them look dimmer than ever.

And as Infernos hit their final pose — hair whipping, wings unfurled, fire flickering at their heels — the chamber exploded in applause, shock, and a little fear. Gwi-nam smirked wider, turning his gaze to the Saja Boys.

“Well?” he said, voice soft but biting. “You gonna keep crying over the Huntrix? Or finally realize you’ve been replaced?” Backstage, the air was thick with smoke, perfume, and bruised egos. As the crowd funneled out above, the Glamings stalked down the corridor, heels clacking like war drums, and turned the corner straight into the Saja Boys. For a second, no one said a word. Jinu and the Glamings’ leader locked eyes — not with heat, but with a cold that only former obsessions could conjure. Baby gave a weak nod, unsure if it was guilt or habit. Romance shifted awkwardly behind Abby + mystery