The transition is violent. One moment, you’re standing in the neon-soaked streets of modern Tokyo; the next, the world flips. The roar of the city is replaced by a deafening, ancient silence.

You hit the ground hard in the center of a dense, moonlit forest. The air here is different—unnervingly clean, smelling of damp earth and wisteria. As you stand up, the sheer density of your Special Grade Cursed Energy reacts poorly to this untouched environment. The grass beneath your boots blackens and withers instantly, and the trees surrounding the clearing groan, their trunks cracking under the invisible weight of your presence.

To any normal human, you’d just be a strangely dressed stranger. But to the things lurking in these woods, you are a beacon of pure, concentrated power.

From the shadows of the towering cedars, three pairs of glowing eyes snap open. You hear the sound of wet, rhythmic salivating. Three demons, low-level but starved, crawl out from the undergrowth. They’ve never seen a Sorcerer, let alone a Special Grade. To them, you don't look like a threat—you look like the most high-energy meal they’ve ever encountered.

"What a strange-looking human," one hisses, its limbs elongated and grey. "No sword? No uniform? You'll be easy to break."

The three of them spring at once, claws extended, closing the distance in a blur of supernatural speed. They have no idea that the "energy" they're sensing isn't food—it’s a death sentence.

You don't even have your hand on your technique yet, but the air is already beginning to distort around you.