Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 700 – You Stepped on My Wing

Vizreel raised his sword again.

Before he could strike...

The floor moved.

Not cracked.

Not opened.

It liquefied.

The marble beneath their feet melted into swirling black-and-silver void patterns that spun like a cosmic drain.

Vizreel grabbed Lux’s collar instinctively as gravity reversed.

The floor sucked them downward.

Hard.

Both of them dropped as if the universe suddenly decided they weighed negative infinity. The corridor ceiling stretched upward, warping into a spiraling tunnel of collapsing reality layers.

Lux’s horns clipped a passing rune panel.

Vizreel’s wings scraped dimensional edges, sending sparks of fractured judgment script exploding around them.

They fell.

Lux tried to activate teleport again.

[System ERROR: Spatial anchors unavailable.]

[Dimension identified: LIMBO POCKET VARIANT.]

Lux groaned mid-fall. ”Again? Seriously? I already did this once this month!”

Vizreel adjusted his grip on Lux while trying to stabilize wing glide. ”Stop complaining and stabilize trajectory!”

”I am stabilizing my emotional trauma!”

The tunnel collapsed around them, shifting from celestial marble to endless twilight void streaked with floating contract fragments and broken halo shards. The air smelled like erased time and expired divine warranties.

They hit ground.

Hard.

Lux hit the ground like reality personally filed a complaint against him.

”F— cking celestial budget cuts on gravity—!” he barked mid-impact as he bounced once, twice, rolled shoulder-first across slick obsidian terrain, and somehow managed to keep his suit immaculate while everything else in his body questioned life choices.

He slammed down again with a breath-knocking thud.

Silence followed.

Thick.

Echoing.

Lux groaned, sitting up slowly, one hand pressing into the void-floor as he sucked in a careful breath. His suit remained flawless. His pride remained intact. His back... less so.

”...I hate limbo,” he muttered.

”—And I hate how you sat on me.”

Lux froze.

Slowly... very slowly... he looked down.

Oh.

He was, in fact, sitting squarely on Vizreel’s armored back. One boot planted between the Archon’s wings. The other awkwardly hooked near a judgment plate ridge.

Lux blinked once.

”...Oh.”

Vizreel’s voice came out flat. Dangerous. Echoing with offended divine authority.

Lux tilted his head thoughtfully. ”That explains why my back hurts.”

”Get. Off.”

Lux immediately scrambled backward, boots skidding slightly across the glassy surface as he rolled to his feet.

Vizreel pushed himself upright with a heavy metallic groan. His wings flexed outward, plates adjusting with irritated clacks as he shook off residual dimensional dust and one extremely smug incubus imprint.

The Archon stood fully, towering again, armor dimming slightly as it recalibrated against the unstable limbo environment.

Vizreel rotated one shoulder, testing movement, then shot Lux a glare that could legally count as divine judgment.

”You stepped on my wing.”

”It was a soft landing,” Lux said defensively.

”You are lucky I did not reflexively smite you.”

”You have tried that before,” Lux replied casually.

Vizreel opened his mouth... paused... then huffed sharply through his nose.

Vizreel scanned their surroundings, eyes glowing faint silver as his armor began reacting to the reality instability around them. The runes along his breastplate dimmed and brightened in rhythmic pulses, adjusting to the warped dimensional physics of the limbo pocket.

The terrain stretched outward in impossible layers. Broken staircases floated sideways. Doorways led nowhere. Pieces of shattered courtroom balconies drifted past like abandoned memories. The sky above flickered between celestial skylines, infernal market streets, and what Lux was ninety percent sure was a mortal bakery for half a second before dissolving into starstatic noise.

Vizreel flexed his wings again, carefully this time, checking structural integrity.

”No immediate fracture,” he muttered.

Lux brushed imaginary lint off his sleeves, then adjusted his collar like he had not just fallen through weaponized metaphysical flooring.

”You are welcome, by the way,” Lux said.

Vizreel slowly turned his head.

”For what?”

”For breaking my fall with your extremely expensive divine spine.”

Vizreel stared at him long enough that a lesser demon would have combusted out of shame.

”...I am reconsidering whether saving you improves cosmic balance.”

Lux gave him a bright, perfectly CFO-level grin.

”Nice.”

”I tolerate your continued existence because it annoys worse entities,” Vizreel corrected.

”Same thing,” Lux said.

Vizreel shook his head and returned his attention to the environment. His sword reformed into his hand in a flash of silver judgment light, the blade humming as it scanned the surrounding void layers.

”This limbo pocket is reinforced,” Vizreel said. ”Artificially stabilized. Whoever created it knew how to prevent celestial teleport extraction.”

Lux crouched, running his fingers along the black-glass surface beneath them. Faint contract glyphs flickered briefly under his touch before fading again.

”And infernal extraction,” Lux added. ”Lovely. Collaborative assassination technology. My favorite genre.”

Vizreel glanced down. ”Do you recognize the signature?”

Lux squinted, analyzing the faint rune echoes.

”...Hybridized. Sloppy in some areas. Brilliant in others. Which means either multiple contributors or one extremely unstable genius with access to both divine archives and hell black markets.”

Vizreel’s grip tightened on his sword.

”That list is not short.”

Lux stood, dusting off his knees, then stretched his back with a quiet wince.

”Next time I am bringing a parachute,” he muttered.

”You cannot use parachutes in dimensional implosions,” Vizreel said automatically.

”Then I will invent one,” Lux replied.

Vizreel did not argue. Which meant he believed him. Which was somehow worse.

They stood in silence for a moment, both scanning the shifting limbo horizon while fragments of corridor architecture floated lazily past like discarded PowerPoint slides from reality.

Lux glanced sideways at Vizreel’s wing plating.

”...Does it still hurt?”

Vizreel paused.

”...No.”

Lux nodded approvingly. ”Good. Because if I permanently damaged an Archon wing during a workplace accident, that would be catastrophic for my HR file.”

Vizreel groaned under his breath.

”You are impossible.”

Lux straightened his suit jacket and glanced upward as the limbo sky rippled again, something massive shifting beyond the fractured dimensional ceiling.

”Yeah,” Lux said quietly. ”But apparently still alive.”

Vizreel followed his gaze upward, sword humming louder now, reacting to approaching instability patterns.

”Stay alert,” the Archon said.

Lux smirked faintly, eyes flickering as infernal aura lines traced briefly beneath his skin.

”When am I not?”