This "good" Jin was forever gone. But apparently, the old Jin and the new one were precisely the same person, not from the very beginning, that is. Standing atop the building at which Jin was, unfortunately, betrayed; his eyes began to glow green. 

A smirk spanned accross his face; like paint stretching across an unpainted canvas. He stood; menacingly. A dark, ominous aura lingering within a small radius of his body. He retained his grin; selfishly. Vindictive. His body brimmed with an ineffable surge of ecstasy. The cool winds of new dawn brushed against his skin as he loitered atop the building. 

"I have returned!" He shouted for the world to hear. 

What he heard in return from the world were the noices of the urban city. Police sirens. Cars speeding. All the trivial sounds that needn't be heeded. The sole important sound lingered as his beating heart. The adrenaline rush that shot through his veins. His yearning for action had exacerbated on spot. But Jin, he was one who could break through the very restraints of gravity. 

He leaped of the building. His feet were no longer upon a surface. His arms were outstretched. The wind beated against his skin just as his blowing hoodie beated against the back of his neck. Wind shrieked in his ears as he rippled through thin air. A force—like a telekinetic one—seemed to pull him toward the ground. Gravity. He about to hit the surface below head first. 

About ten meters away from the ground; Jin dashed, propelling himself into the air again—upward. He dashed. And he dashed again. Every two seconds, was yet another dash. At this rate; he had been zooming accross the streets as if in flight. He certainly could not fly; he was getting further to the ground. However, this was also trivial. For Jin wanted his feet to meet surface again. Surface were men walked. Men he could take advantage of. 

He was getting closer to the ground. Now, Jin could have simply teleported to the surface, but he chose not to just for the fun of rippling through the air. But he could not stay in the air for too long. No. He heeded the fact that there were concealed Successors; in numbers prevalent.

Should a desperate successor attack him, he'll be met with high odds of death. Death, of course, he wanted not. But a great battle was what he did want. He craved it. To an extent, he wanted to be ambushed. Still, he knew he could not let his uncontrollable bloodlust risk him his life. 

He landed on the pavement. From the time he had landed, he jammed his hands in his kangaroo pocket. His landing then became a run. A brisk walk. Then slowed to an arrogant way of sauntering. With eyes kept to slits as if weary; he sauntered upon the surface. 

Eyes landed upon his body, unbiddenly. You certainly did not see a man fall from the sky like that everyday, after all. Jin ignored the excessive gawks. He was looking for someone to battle. Coincidentally, a system screen appeared before his tired eyes. 

[Endless Mode: survive while completing constant tasks for a certain period of time]

[Pestering: Inflict 10 damage onto a living being, for every minute you go without completing the task, your body weakens.]

Jin looked at the screen. He was already well acquainted with this kind of task. He scoffed. "Is that all you can possibly give me, system? How pathetic."

***

Merely a single day remained until the great rise of the demon kind. And this—certainly—was not unbeknown to great Cyrus, the long perished Demon Hunter. Since the demons were returning; Cyrus had figured he would as well.

At a certain part of the fertile soil of farm lands loitered something quite riveting. Something great that would be unearthed. The entire ground had started to shake; as if an earthquake was taking place. However, an earthquake it was not. 

Farmer Jones had cursed. He flew up off of his bed, and started toward his doorframe. His farmhouse was poorly constructed. A high level earthquake would spell devastating damage to his materials that remained in the farmhouse. He quailed at the thought of his hard work being destroyed. But, of course, his life was more important. He rushed toward the doorframe of his front door.

There was, sadly, no door attached to this door frame. Jones had forgotten to leverage himself one. And so, he had to deal with the stupid raccoons who kept getting in his house. Stupid, yet never took the bait from his rat traps. Jones wasn't an educated man. But emergencies were to be taken care of seriously. Thus, he still learned some survival strategies, lest one should occur.

Except he didn't thought he would ever come close to a lethal occurrence. Not in his seventy years of age, doing boring farm work. Not many accidents could happen on a Red magic farm. Or so he had thought. 

Getting underneath a door frame was one of these survival strategies Jones had learned. It was difficult getting things to stay in his head; given that his brain's capacity was overloaded with information he had considered much more pivotal. Problems. 

The entire farm was aquiver. The ground was unstable. Unread books fell from Jones' bookshelves fell to the uneven, bumpy floor. The kitchen shelf was beyond comparison. Glasses, and plates fell and shattered from such shelf. The entire infrastructure rocked constantly; such that Jones suddenly felt an urge to say his prayers. 

However; his prayers was what he could not say. He looked outside; at a particular area in the sticky soil. A nude man had burst out of this area. Muddy filth splattered like blood. And this naked man erupted into the skies. How could Jones possibly say anything having witnessed such a phenomenon?

Speechless, Jones remained. Could not even utter his final words before a subsequent shockwave destroyed him and his farmhouse. He should have taken the villager's words seriously. There truly was a monster in the earth of the farmlands he had plundered. 

In the sky; with crimson wings, the naked figure—the monster—hovered. With a blank expression on his face; he muttered to himself, "I have returned."