《Project:Imagine》


 Chapter 0-The End (Rewritten)

    The pale crimson sky hung ominously over the ruins, casting a sickly glow on the shattered remnants of a once-thriving home. The man sat within the wreckage, surrounded by the carnage of a world long since ended. The roof had caved in, furniture lay splintered and broken, and the stench of blood, old, yet lingering, clung to the air. He ate the charred flesh of a monster he had slain, his movements slow and deliberate, each bite a reminder of survival. Beside him, a decayed corpse sat, brittle bones exposed. Occasionally, his fist would lash out, striking the skeleton in anger, shattering it further. Cracks and breaks riddled the remains, as though even in death, the body could not escape his wrath. For now, we¡¯ll call this man Nihil, though his true name will one day be revealed.


    Rising from the ruin, Nihil made his way to what had once been the house¡¯s garden¡ªthe only part of the home that time and destruction had spared. The flowers bloomed as if mocking the surrounding devastation. He bent down, plucking a handful of white roses, paying no mind to the thorns tearing at his fingers. Blood dripped onto the petals, staining them crimson as he carelessly pocketed the flowers.


    A shotgun rested against the wall, a relic of the old world, still functional amidst the ruins. He grabbed it, slinging it over his shoulder as he spoke quietly to himself, ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I visited them. I should go more often.¡±


    The crimson sky seemed to watch over him as he trudged through the desolate streets, each step stirring the ash of long-dead fires and the rot of forgotten corpses. Some faces he recognized, others blurred into the endless sea of the dead. He had killed many of them himself, but it had been over a month since he¡¯d encountered another living soul. Now, only beasts prowled these ruins, hunting prey that no longer existed.


    His path led to the highest hill in the city, the only place that had been spared the worst of the destruction. The area was almost serene, in contrast to the chaos below. Crude, hand-carved graves littered the landscape, each one a marker of the fallen. His comrades. The ones who had fought alongside him through the apocalypse, only to perish before seeing the end.


    Tears rolled silently down Nihil¡¯s face as he stood before the graves, staring at the names he had carved with his own hands. They were all gone now¡ªevery last one of them. And he, the last survivor, was burdened with a life that would forever be alone.


    Each grave was marked with a withered rose, its petals brittle and crumbling, symbols of a fading memory. Nihil moved silently, replacing the dying flowers with fresh white roses, their stark petals tinged red from the blood on his hands. He knelt before each grave, his fingers trembling as he placed the new blooms, as if somehow keeping this small ritual alive could tether him to something¡ªanything¡ªin this forsaken world.


    ¡°The world¡¯s gone to shit,¡± Nihil murmured, his voice low and detached, staring at the gravestones as though they might offer answers. ¡°If I knew what triggered it¡­ could I have stopped it? Stopped any of this?¡± His gaze lingered on the names, each one carved by his hand. ¡°So many deaths, yet here I am. Still alive. Why?¡±


    The silence pressed against him, oppressive, unrelenting. Nihil¡¯s thoughts wandered, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. ¡°I used to love reading those mediocre regression novels. Stories of going back in time, fixing everything¡­ How nice would it be if that could happen now? How lovely to rewrite it all.¡±


    He stood, pulling the shotgun from his shoulder, his grip tightening on the cold steel. Slowly, he raised it toward his face, the muzzle hovering just in front of his mouth. His breath was shallow, his eyes hollow, staring down the barrel with a grim finality. ¡°Should I just end it? What¡¯s the point anymore?¡±


    His finger brushed the trigger when a voice, smooth and mocking, cut through the silence like a knife. ¡°How boring. Are you really going to give up like this?¡±


    Startled, Nihil lowered the gun and turned. A figure approached from the gloom¡ªa child, no more than thirteen, yet something about him was off, unsettling. He adjusted his monocle with a flick of his pale hand, a cruel smile twisting his lips. His skin was unnaturally pale, his golden eyes gleaming with cold amusement. Dressed in ornate blue Victorian-era clothing, he walked with an air of aristocracy, a snake-headed walking stick tapping rhythmically on the ground.


    ¡°You struggled so hard,¡± the boy continued, his voice dripping with mockery, ¡°and now, this is how it ends? Pathetic. I thought you were better than this.


    ¡°Who are you? How are you alive?¡± Nihil shouted, his voice thick with disbelief and suspicion. ¡°There are monsters everywhere. How have you survived? You¡¯re just a child. I haven¡¯t seen a single other person in a month¡ªso how did you survive?¡±


    The boy¡¯s smile remained, eerily calm, unfazed by the accusation. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re right. Not a single human is alive,¡± he said, his tone light, almost playful. His golden eyes sparkled as if he found Nihil''s confusion amusing. ¡°But I¡¯m not exactly human,¡± he added, adjusting his monocle with a casual flick of his fingers.


    Instinct kicked in. Without hesitation, Nihil drew his shotgun, his hands moving with the precision of someone who had survived too long in a world gone mad. He aimed squarely at the boy¡¯s head and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed in the air. Blood and brain matter splattered the ground, painting the grass in a grotesque horror. The boy¡¯s body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.


    But before Nihil could exhale in relief, the corpse began to writhe and decay unnaturally fast. His eyes widened as the boy¡¯s body crumbled into dust, only for the dust to reform, the boy reappearing behind him¡ªwhole, untouched, and wearing the same unholy smile. Even his pristine clothing had regenerated along with him.


    ¡°Would you like to try again?¡± the child asked, his voice still calm, almost mocking. ¡°I¡¯m no human, but I assure you, I¡¯m not a monster either.¡±


    Nihil¡¯s pulse raced as he spun around, shotgun raised once more. ¡°Then what are you?¡± he growled, tightening his grip on the weapon, ready to fire again if need be. The boy waved his hand dismissively.


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s no need for this, really. Put down the shotgun, or I¡¯ll be forced to remove it myself¡ªalong with your hand,¡± he said, his sinister smile curling wider, as if enjoying the tension in the air. Ignoring the warning, Nihil leveled the barrel at the boy''s chest, preparing to shoot.


    But before he could even pull the trigger, his arm began to disintegrate¡ªquietly, almost peacefully. His flesh unraveled, turning to ash, scattering into the wind like brittle pages torn from an ancient book. Nihil stared in horror, the shotgun falling from his disappearing hand. There was no pain, just the overwhelming sensation of helplessness, of fear¡ªpure, unfiltered fear.


    ¡°I warned you, didn¡¯t I?¡± the boy said softly, his voice now edged with satisfaction as he watched the terror wash over Nihil¡¯s face. That vicious smile remained, etched into his pale features, like a predator toying with its prey.


    Nihil staggered back, eyes wide, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The boy standing before him was no ordinary being¡ªno, this child radiated a power that transcended anything Nihil had ever encountered. Far more terrifying than the monstrous creatures prowling the wastelands, the boy stood with a quiet, chilling control that left Nihil frozen in place.


    With a casual snap of his fingers, the boy restored Nihil¡¯s arm effortlessly, as though mending broken flesh was nothing more than a trifling gesture. ¡°Please understand,¡± the boy began, his voice calm, measured, ¡°if I wanted you dead, you''d already be buried alongside those graves, and no one would mourn your passing.¡±


    ¡°What¡­ what the hell are you?¡± Nihil stammered in terror, clinging to his words. His eyes, once hardened by the apocalyptic horrors he¡¯d endured, now gleamed with pure, primal fear.


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    The boy smiled faintly, a glint of something ancient and unknowable lurking behind his golden eyes. ¡°I''ve come to fulfill your request,¡± he said, stepping forward with a certain grace. ¡°A second chance. A chance to rewrite this story that has gone awry. You see,¡± his smile widened, ¡°I have a particular disdain for tragic endings. And there is no ending more tragic, more pathetic, than this one. So, I¡¯m offering you a chance to fix it.¡±


    Nihil¡¯s mind raced, struggling to comprehend. ¡°How is that even possible? When the apocalypse began, every awakened¡ªno matter how powerful¡ªlost their abilities. We became powerless. How can you send me back in time when time itself has been fractured?¡±


    The boy¡¯s smile grew sharper, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°It''s simple, really. After all,¡± he said, his voice laced with a calm arrogance, ¡°I wrote this storyline.¡±


    Before Nihil could respond, a deafening roar shattered the air. Above them, a monstrous creature descended from the sky. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of crimson scales and yellow stripes, two sets of jagged wings slicing through the air. A vulture-like beak protruded from its face, framed by three gleaming green eyes that burned with hunger. Behind it, a swarm of smaller, equally horrifying offspring followed, screeching in excitement.


    ¡°How utterly annoying,¡± the boy muttered, his voice laced with disdain. ¡°I truly hate this storyline.¡± He sighed, stepping forward as though the looming threat of the monstrous creatures meant nothing to him. ¡°These worthless beasts don¡¯t know their place.¡±


    Without a hint of urgency, the boy reached into his coat and pulled out a small, ancient-looking book. The tome was unlike anything Nihil had ever seen. It was no larger than a pocket-sized journal, bound in deep blue leather, with tiny black stars embossed into the cover. The stars shimmered as though they were alive, faintly glowing with a cosmic energy that defied comprehension. The pages inside were pitch black, the color of an abyss that swallowed all light, and the ink that filled them was a vivid, bloody red¡ªeach word etched with a dark, malevolent energy. Floating just above the pages was a pen, suspended by an unseen force, crossing out lines with a meticulous precision.


    As the boy made a simple correction to the text, the monsters above screamed in agony. Their bodies twisted, warped, and then¡ªwithout warning¡ªdisintegrated into dust. In mere moments, the sky was clear, the threat vanquished as if it had never existed.


    The boy closed the book with a quiet snap, tucking it back into his coat with an air of finality. He turned to Nihil, his smile never fading. ¡°Now,¡± he said, his voice almost playful, ¡°do you still doubt my ability to rewrite this story?¡±


    The boy smirked, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. ¡°Anyway, can we continue our conversation? You''re this world''s only hope,¡± he said, his tone light, almost dismissive, as if the weight of his words meant nothing to him.


    Nihil clenched his fists, his voice breaking with frustration. ¡°I''ve asked you multiple times already, but who the hell are you?¡±


    The boy adjusted his monocle, his grin widening. ¡°Me? I¡¯m the Creator¡ªthe one who brought this world and every other world into existence. I watch you creatures for my own enjoyment. Sadly, this story has ended sooner than I¡¯d like. The only reason I¡¯m helping you is so you can give me more entertainment,¡± he said, his smile dripping with malice, as though human lives were mere pieces on his chessboard.


    Nihil''s heart pounded in his chest, rage simmering beneath the surface. ¡°So you¡¯re responsible for this fucked-up world? You¡¯re the reason so many people I cared about had to die?¡± His voice cracked with emotion as tears welled in his eyes. ¡°Why me? Why was I chosen for this?¡±


    The Creator chuckled, an eerie, hollow sound that sent shivers down Nihil¡¯s spine. ¡°No, I¡¯m not fully responsible,¡± he replied, his voice unbothered, as if he were discussing trivialities. ¡°I actively encourage free will. You humans are the maestros of your own misery. As for why you were chosen,¡± his eyes darkened, ¡°you¡¯re the last survivor on this entire planet. You outlived them all, so I¡¯m sure you¡¯re the best candidate.¡±


    Nihil''s bitter laugh echoed through the ruined landscape. ¡°So it¡¯s really true,¡± he said, his voice raw with grief, ¡°it''s just me. Everyone else is dead.¡± Tears streamed down his face, mingling with his laughter, a twisted mixture of pain and disbelief.


    His voice dropped, desperate and broken. ¡°Send me back. Let me fix everything. Please, I need to save them¡­ I need to save everyone,¡± Nihil begged, his knees nearly buckling beneath the weight of his own despair.


    The Creator, however, remained unmoved, his expression cold and calculating. ¡°Allow me to explain what caused the apocalypse,¡± he said, his voice now more somber, as if reading from some cosmic script. ¡°The deaths of two individuals: Iris Blackwell and Maxwell Lumiar. Should these two ''keys'' die, the world will end. You must protect them, no matter what. Lastly, I¡¯d recommend killing Nikolai Dostoevsky, but that, of course, is your choice.¡±


    Nihil straightened, wiping the tears from his face, his expression hardening. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll save them, no matter what. Send me back. I can do this,¡± he said, his voice filled with determination.


    The Creator¡¯s grin returned, wider and more twisted than before. ¡°Hold your horses,¡± he said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°It would hardly be fair to the orchestrator of this calamity if I just gave you the chance to undo it so easily¡ªthough I do disapprove of what they¡¯ve done.¡±


    Nihil¡¯s fury surged again, his fists clenched tight. ¡°What the hell? I thought you hated this ¡®storyline.¡¯ Now you''re suddenly concerned with fairness? That¡¯s bullshit!¡± His voice was laced with seething anger.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic,¡± the Creator replied, casually inspecting his nails. ¡°I¡¯ll get plenty of entertainment watching you struggle in our little game.¡±


    Nihil¡¯s eyes narrowed, his patience nearly gone. ¡°What game?¡±


    The Creator reached into his coat and pulled out a gleaming silver stopwatch, its surface adorned with intricate, otherworldly symbols. He looked down at it, the ticking sound filling the air, a constant reminder of the fleeting nature of time. ¡°Can we hurry this along?¡± he said, his voice almost bored. ¡°I may have all of eternity, but you don¡¯t, and I¡¯d rather not see my toy die of old age before we even begin.¡± He clicked the stopwatch, the sound reverberating in the silence, as the surrounding air began to warp and twist.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll play your stupid game. I¡¯ll win, no matter what,¡± Nihil spat, his voice unwavering, eyes burning with newfound determination. The weight of what lay ahead pressed against his soul, but the fire inside him raged too fiercely to be extinguished.


    The Creator¡¯s twisted grin widened. "Good. I love watching my toys struggle. Took you long enough." His voice dripped with condescension, the words dancing mockingly in the air.


    ¡°Fine. What is this *game* we¡¯re supposed to play?¡± Nihil demanded, clenching his fists.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± the Creator replied, casually adjusting his monocle as if the fate of worlds was nothing more than a passing curiosity. "Through any means necessary, bring about the death of the God of Games."


    Nihil barely had time to process those words before a swirling portal of dark mist materialized behind him. The air crackled with unnatural energy as the Creator shoved him toward it with a force that was both effortless and absolute.


    ¡°W-wait¡ªwhere am I going?¡± Nihil stammered, the pull of the portal threatening to rip him from reality.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± the Creator replied, his voice filled with cruel amusement. "Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve made you immortal. You¡¯ll have as many chances as you need."


    Before Nihil could protest, the portal swallowed him whole, the world warping and twisting around him. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness, a cold emptiness that threatened to consume him. And then¡ªlight.


    Nihil stumbled into a sunlit forest clearing, his breath catching in his throat. White roses bloomed all around him, their petals swaying gently in the breeze beneath a vibrant blue sky. The air here was fresh, untouched by the decay he had known for so long.


    Ahead, a young woman tended to the flowers, her back turned to him. She was striking¡ªher long green hair shimmered like emeralds, and her crimson eyes, when she glanced back, were sharp and filled with caution. Small red markings curved delicately beneath her eyes, and her pointed ears gave her an otherworldly appearance. She wore a simple yet elegant light blue dress that flowed like water as she moved.


    ¡°A stranger!¡± the woman exclaimed, her voice filled with sudden panic. "Get away!"


    Before Nihil could explain, her ability flared to life. The ground beneath him trembled as massive thorns erupted from the earth, one piercing through his chest with terrifying precision. The force of it knocked the wind from his lungs as blood splattered across the white roses. Pain¡ªsharp and excruciating¡ªshot through him, but even as darkness closed in, a grim smile tugged at the corner of his lips.


    Nihil¡¯s first death would be at the hands of his future wife.


    The clearing grew silent once more, save for the gentle sway of flowers in the breeze. But this was only the beginning.


    Nihil¡¯s journey will be told another time.  For now, let us turn our attention to another tale¡ªthe story of Iris Blackwell and Maxwell Lumiar, whose fates are entwined with the very fabric of this world¡¯s salvation¡­ or destruction.

 Chapter 1-Countdown

    In the heart of the verdant countryside, nestled among rolling hills and vast orchards, lay the quaint town of Applecrest. Known for its expansive apple orchards, Applecrest was a small, peaceful town with crime rates so low that the police could go days without encountering a single issue. The town''s charm was undeniable, cobblestone streets lined with cozy cottages, gardens bursting with vibrant flowers, and a central square dominated by an ancient, sprawling apple tree that locals claimed was as old as the town itself.


    Children played in the streets, their laughter mingling with the sweet scent of blooming apple blossoms. Farmers tended to their crops, exchanging warm greetings with passersby. The air was filled with the hum of bees and the distant songs of birds. Despite this tranquility, two government agents had arrived in search of someone.


    ¡°Hey Markus, you never told me why we¡¯re in this town,¡± Wallace said, clearly annoyed. ¡°I don¡¯t remember the Bookkeeper mentioning any awakened here. We¡¯ve already gathered all the available ones this year, haven''t we?¡±


    Wallace stood about 5¡ä 6¡å (1.68 m), his blonde hair a messy tangle above blue eyes shadowed by deep bags. His pale skin suggested he rarely ventured outside. A pair of black, square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he wore a lab coat over his clothes. His overall appearance gave the impression he might fall asleep at any moment. Notably, he wore a white glove on his right hand.


    ¡°I got some special information from the Bookkeeper. Apparently, a very interesting awakened is in the area,¡± Markus sighed. ¡°Of course, the bastard didn''t tell me which house they¡¯re in, only that we must collect them today.¡±


    Markus, significantly taller at 6¡¯ 2¡± (1.88 m), had slicked-back brown hair and a scar across the bridge of his nose. His blue eyes, unlike Wallace''s, were full of energy. His caramel-colored skin contrasted with a black snake tattoo on his neck. He wore a black suit with a red tie. Notably, he wore a black glove on his right hand.


    ¡°How much did it cost you to get this kind of tip from that bastard?¡± Wallace asked.


    ¡°Normally, it would have cost an arm and a leg, quite literally. But he told me the debt was paid in advance. He didn¡¯t say who paid it or why. Here''s what he did tell me, the target''s name is Iris Blackwell, her ability is unknown, and he wouldn''t say more. It was ''too confidential'', even for me,¡± Markus explained, frustration evident in his voice.


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®too confidential¡¯? That man sells any information for the right price, even knowledge about the end of the world, not like anyone could afford it. But he wouldn¡¯t even offer a price for her ability?¡± Wallace said, confused.


    ¡°You''re right, it doesn''t make sense. There are too many mysteries with this mission. And odds are, he won¡¯t sell us any information on her either. She¡¯s around eleven years old, hasn¡¯t unlocked her ability yet, and has pink hair and yellow eyes. One last thing: we have to find her before eight o¡¯clock tonight,¡± Markus said, his expression serious.


    ¡°Why eight o''clock? What''s so significant about that time?¡± Wallace questioned.


    Markus paused, glancing around the picturesque town. A group of children ran past, chasing a dog, their carefree joy a stark contrast to the gravity of their mission. He lowered his voice, leaning closer to Wallace.


    ¡°She¡¯s going to die at that time. If we don¡¯t save her, she will die,¡± Markus said, clenching his fist in anger.


    Wallace quickly glanced at his watch. The current time was 4 o¡¯clock, leaving them only four hours. He began shaking Markus by the shoulders, yelling, ¡°Why did we arrive so late then? She¡¯s going to die! Shouldn''t we have gotten here much earlier?¡±


    ¡°This was the time the Bookkeeper said to arrive. We must collect her at eight o¡¯clock, the exact moment her family is killed, and she is about to die. That¡¯s when we must save her and bring her back to A.E.G.I.S. The Bookkeeper always provides the best time to obtain the awakened. No matter the tragedies that befall them before those moments¡±, Markus said, maintaining his serious expression.


    ¡°I know. It wouldn¡¯t even be the first time this week we had to collect a child whose family was just killed. Did he say the cause of death? Is it like the last one where their ability went out of control and they killed their family?¡± Wallace asked, his voice filled with pity.


    ¡°There are awakened in the area planning to kill her. Why or how they found out about her, I have no idea. This organization was also ¡®too confidential¡¯. To make matters worse, the boss didn¡¯t clear us to use additional artifacts, so we¡¯ll have to fight with standard equipment. The bastard wouldn¡¯t even give us a barrier artifact, yet expects us to keep the public unaware of this whole ordeal,¡± Markus complained.


    ¡°What did you expect, dear brother? You¡¯re the Reaper, A.E.G.I.S¡¯s strongest weapon. Someone like you isn¡¯t expected to make mistakes or ever lose,¡± Wallace said, mocking lightly.


    ¡°You¡¯re right as always. After this mission, we better get a vacation. I''d like to head back to Las Vegas sometime,¡± Markus sighed.


    ¡°The school year to train the awakened students is about to start, so don¡¯t expect a vacation soon. We both got forced to watch over the Alpha facility this year. Besides, you¡¯re banned from every casino in Las Vegas, remember?¡± Wallace said.


    The two brothers continued their chat while searching for their target. They navigated through the quaint streets, nodding to friendly locals who were unaware of the peril looming over their peaceful town. The warm afternoon sun cast long shadows as the day inched closer to evening.


    Meanwhile, over in a dilapidated clock tower at the edge of town, three individuals had made it their base of operations. The clock tower had been abandoned for years, teetering on the verge of collapse, but its height provided a vantage point over the entire town. Inside, a small room had been set up with tables, chairs, and a whiteboard detailing their plan. A clock on the wall read 4:42. In three hours and eighteen minutes, Iris will die.


    A woman with silver hair rushed into the clock tower, seeing the other two members seated. Her green eyes were filled with worry as she wore a blue dress and white gloves. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few flickering candles that cast eerie shadows on the walls.


    ¡°Sir, I have bad news. Our members watching the town reported two members of A.E.G.I.S are in the area, likely here for the same target as us,¡± Lucia said, her voice trembling.


    ¡°Did they identify who they were?¡± Nikolai asked.


    Nikolai stood about 5¡¯ 11¡± (1.80 m), his hair a striking mixture of black and white. His lime-green eyes contrasted sharply with the x-shaped scar on his forehead. He wore a black suit and a locket around his neck.


    A nervous look crossed Lucia¡¯s face as she stammered, ¡°O-our members identified them as the R-Reaper and the Saint.¡±


    Horror flashed across the faces of both Nikolai and Scarlet. They instantly knew who their opponents were.


    Scarlet, about 5¡¯ 4¡± (1.64 m), had crimson hair braided neatly and calm red eyes. She wore a beautiful red dress that exposed her arms and back, adorned with a floral pattern. A bird tattoo was visible on her back, and she wore white lace gloves on her hands.


    ¡°Ooh, the Valentine brothers are here. It''s been a while since I''ve seen those two. I¡¯m especially excited to see Marky again,¡± Scarlet said in a flirtatious tone.


    ¡°I will be the one to fight Markus. Lucia is not fit for combat, and your fighting style is too extreme. You may accidentally destroy the veil we put up. Focus on killing the girl,¡± Nikolai said sternly.


    ¡°You¡¯re always so mean to me. But fine, I doubt I could defeat Marky in a fight anyway. Even you might struggle, leader,¡± Scarlet said teasingly.


    ¡°I¡¯m much stronger than the last time we fought. This will be fun,¡± Nikolai said, rubbing the scar on his forehead.


    ¡°Sir, what about the Saint? W-while the Reaper is the strongest in terms of pure power, the Saint is equally a threat. His combat skill is even better than the R-Reaper¡¯s,¡± Lucia said nervously.


    ¡°We have twenty-five agents within the town. While none of them are awakened, it should be enough to at least distract Wallace. Despite his combat skill, his ability is non-combat type, so it shouldn''t be too difficult,¡± Nikolai said.


    As they continued to discuss their upcoming attack, a drunken man staggered into the clock tower with a woman on his arm. They stumbled up to the room where Nikolai and his group were waiting. The man reeked of alcohol, his clothes disheveled and stained. The woman, barely able to stand, clung to him, giggling uncontrollably.


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    ¡°Oh sorry, I didn''t know anyone else would be here. Could you please leave my girlfriend here? Really wanted to check out the top of the clock tower,¡± the man said, trying not to fall over.


    At that moment, Nikolai walked over to the man and held his arm out to him.


    ¡°Huh, what are you doing?¡± the drunken man asked with a confused look on his face.


    As he held out his hand, reality began to distort and warp around the space surrounding the man''s head. His neck began to twist as his facial features slowly contorted. The man screamed as he slowly cried blood. He then collapsed onto the floor, his face unrecognizable from before.


    The exact moment the man collapsed onto the floor, the woman began to run away. She screamed and ran down the stairs. Nikolai then pulled out a knife as it levitated and stabbed the woman in the leg as she tried to flee. As the knife sunk into her leg, she fell down the stairs, collapsing to the ground with her neck twisted, dying instantly.


    ¡°Scarlet, burn the bodies. Leave no trace of them,¡± Nikolai commanded.


    Flames appeared around Scarlet''s hands as they wrapped around the two corpses, lifting them into the air as they slowly burned away, leaving nothing but ashes and small chunks of bones that fell onto the ground.


    They cleaned up the remains and went back to their preparations, planning out how to deal with their two adversaries.


    Outside, the wind began to pick up, rustling the leaves of the apple trees. The idyllic town of Applecrest stood on the brink of a significant and dangerous transformation. The stage was set for a confrontation that would determine the fate of a young girl and potentially much more.


    As the two brothers continued their search, oblivious to the machinations occurring in the old clock tower, the urgency of their mission weighed heavily on their minds. Time was running out, and the peaceful facade of Applecrest was about to be shattered by the impending clash of powerful forces, all converging on a single, unsuspecting child named Iris Blackwell.


    Iris sat in her room reading a book, glancing occasionally at the clock. The time was currently 5:57. In two hours and three minutes, Iris will die, though she didn''t know this.


    ¡°Iris, honey, come downstairs for dinner,¡± Iris¡¯s mother called from downstairs.


    Iris placed her butterfly-shaped bookmark into her book as she began to walk downstairs. As she left, her bookmark slowly flapped its wings within the confines of the book.


    At those same moments, a man was reading a book in a library, the book writing itself as time went on, detailing everything that was happening within the town of Applecrest.


    The man was 5¡¯ 8¡± (1.72 m) with white hair and pale skin. A mole under his right eye contrasted with his glowing golden eyes, and black circular glasses sat on his nose. He wore a black suit with a yellow tie, adorned with a butterfly brooch pinned to his suit. Lastly, he wore a pair of white gloves.


    ¡°It seems this chapter is reaching its climax. I hope those two can save her. It should be fine; after all, that man is there as well,¡± the Bookkeeper said to himself.


    He paced back and forth around the room, becoming increasingly stressed over the situation. Every possible scenario where something could go wrong flooded his mind.


    ¡°Damn it, damn it, I can''t take the stress! I should have snuck those two an extra artifact or two. The burden it would have cost me wouldn''t have mattered. If she dies, everything will go to hell anyway. I can''t even look at her future, damn restrictions!¡± the Bookkeeper yelled, kicking a chair in anger.


    The Bookkeeper continued to freak out, occasionally breaking items within his library, though never destroying any of the books.


    He sat there on the floor reading the self-writing book, tears slowly falling from his eyes.


    ¡°Please save her¡­ I¡¯m begging you to save her¡­this time, please,¡± the Bookkeeper said, softly crying as his voice became weaker.


    As Iris walked downstairs, she was greeted by her parents.


    Iris¡¯s mother had pink hair and green eyes. Her smile was warm and inviting as she served Iris her food. On her plate was pork chops with a side of mashed potatoes, broccoli, and apple slices for dinner.


    Iris¡¯s stepfather had red hair, orange eyes, and a beard. He was large and muscular, but still very kind towards Iris despite not being her biological father. He managed a factory in a neighboring town. Iris didn''t remember her actual father, who had died when she was only two years old. Her mother rarely brought him up, nearly crying every time she did. How he died or what he even looked like was a mystery to Iris. Her mother had only met her stepfather five years later, and they had recently married last year.


    ¡°Honey, you have to eat your vegetables, alright?¡± Iris¡¯s mom lectured.


    ¡°But mom, they¡¯re yucky,¡± Iris complained, scrunching her nose at the sight of the broccoli.


    Iris kept pushing the vegetables to the side of her plate, focusing on the rest of her meal.


    ¡°Maybe if you ate yours, it would set a good example,¡± Iris¡¯s mother said, glaring at her husband, who was acting the same as Iris.


    ¡°But Sarah, they¡¯re yucky,¡± Iris¡¯s stepfather said, mimicking Iris.


    The family continued to enjoy their dinner, passing the time. The evening seemed perfect, blissfully unaware of the approaching danger that would soon shatter their peaceful world.


    A masked man stood on top of a nearby rooftop watching the family as they ate. His mask was white and emotionless. He wore a black cloak with a black suit underneath. Almost no part of his physical characteristics could be identified; even his hands were covered by black gloves. His long white hair flowed in the cool breeze of the approaching night. The man''s cloak was wrapped in vines and white roses, and a crown of said roses adorned his head. Behind him, twelve masked corpses lay on the rooftop, each impaled with a knife whose pommel took the shape of a white rose.


    ¡°Oh, Nikolai, you really should have brought more useful soldiers with you. Overconfidence was always your greatest flaw. It''s getting late; it''s best to wait in this area instead of hunting for more of Nikolai¡¯s dogs,¡± the masked man said, looking at a pocket watch he pulled from his suit pocket.


    The time was exactly seven o¡¯clock.


    ¡°In one hour, those bastards will make their attack. I won''t let them kill the key this time,¡± the man said, with an angry look on his face under his mask.


    Markus and Wallace continued to walk around town as the sky slowly began to darken.


    ¡°Damn it, we don''t have much time left. Where could she be?¡± Wallace said, panicking.


    At that moment, a crossbow bolt was fired, sinking into Markus¡¯s calf as he dropped to his knee. Six masked men suddenly appeared¡ªtwo with axes, two with knives, and two with crossbows. They surrounded Markus and Wallace.


    The men each wore a black cloak with a black jumpsuit, and each one had a different animal mask, a cow, a pig, a sheep, a lizard, a fox, and a horse mask.


    ¡°See, Wallace, everything worked out. Our enemy brought themselves right to us,¡± Markus said, groaning in pain.


    ¡°Did you really need to let yourself get shot?¡± Wallace sighed as he pulled the crossbow bolt from Markus¡¯s calf.


    Wallace held out his hand as a green light emitted from it. Markus¡¯s injury quickly healed as if it had never happened.


    The masked men closed in, their weapons gleaming ominously in the fading light. Wallace quickly assessed the situation, calculating their chances.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make this quick, we don''t have much time,¡± Wallace sighed.


    As the masked men lunged at them, Markus and Wallace moved in perfect sync, a testament to years of fighting side by side. Wallace dodged the first swing of an axe, countering with a swift punch that sent his attacker reeling. Markus repeatedly dodged knife strikes and retaliated with a powerful kick, knocking the wind out of his assailant.


    As one of them was knocked down temporarily, the two crossbow users fired their bolts at Markus


    .


    ¡°Such a petty attack will never work on me,¡± Markus said, smiling as the crossbow bolts suddenly stopped in midair, inches from his head.


    Markus then grabbed both bolts and threw them at the shooters. As soon as he released them, the bolts disappeared and reappeared inches from the men''s foreheads, piercing their masks and killing them both.


    ¡°You could have at least tried to interrogate those two. We didn¡¯t need to kill them yet,¡± Wallace sighed.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll spare one of these trash,¡± Markus said, excitedly.


    ¡°No, you won''t. I know exactly how you are. Despite being my older brother, you really are a child sometimes, especially when it comes to your patience,¡± Wallace said teasingly.


    Wallace walked up to two of the men wielding knives as they rushed towards him. They were clearly well-trained, yet Wallace easily dodged their attacks. It was as if a normal civilian attempted to fight a military veteran¡ªone-sided and almost effortless. In one swift motion, Wallace stole both their knives and stabbed them in the backs of their legs, causing them to collapse.


    ¡°See, that''s how you do it,¡± Wallace said, taunting his brother.


    ¡°Good, then I can kill those two. Spatial Sever,¡± Markus said, as space itself fractured, slicing the two men cleanly and causing them to fall to the ground.


    The two men Wallace had incapacitated looked in horror as they witnessed Markus¡¯s attack.


    ¡°If you don''t want to end up like the rest of your comrades, it¡¯s best you talk. Tell us where we can find Iris. My brother isn¡¯t known for his patience. If you take too long to answer, and we aren¡¯t able to save her, I will come back and remove each of your organs in alphabetical order. So talk now,¡± Wallace said furiously.


    The two men instantly provided the address to Iris¡¯s house and then begged not to be killed. Wallace removed the knives from their legs and swiftly stabbed them in the head, killing them quickly.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hurry before we¡¯re too late,¡± Wallace said, beginning to run as Markus quickly followed.


    The masked man continued to watch from the nearby rooftop, glancing at his pocket watch. The time was 7:45; in fifteen minutes, Iris will die.

 Chapter 2-Angel Born in Flames

    The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows over the town of Applecrest. The once vibrant streets were now cloaked in twilight, and a chilling stillness settled over the town. The peaceful facade was about to be shattered. Markus and Wallace sprinted through the darkening streets, urgency driving their every step. They had no time to lose; Iris''s life hung in the balance.


    Unbeknownst to the brothers, high above them in the decrepit clock tower, their adversaries meticulously prepared for the confrontation. Nikolai, with his sharp eyes and sharper mind, finalized the strategy to kill Markus this time. Beside him, Scarlet and Lucia stood ready, the air heavy with anticipation.


    ¡°By now, the rest of our troops have made their way. We should depart,¡± Lucia said, worried over the upcoming confrontation.


    ¡°I agree. Open your gate, Lucia. Let us begin the show. Tonight, Noir will secure the first key and kill the Reaper,¡± Nikolai commanded.


    Lucia raised her arms outward as a lime green door manifested itself from the ground, her breath growing and labored with the effort. As the door fully materialized, it swung open, revealing the outside of Iris¡¯s home. The three of them stepped through the gate, only to be met by seven of their remaining forces.


    ¡°Where the hell is everyone else?¡± Nikolai yelled furiously.


    ¡°S-Six of us decided to attack the Reaper, and they were quickly killed. As for the o-other twelve, we have no idea. They simply vanished, sir,¡± the masked soldier stammered, clearly terrified.


    Sweat dripped down the masked soldier''s forehead as he delivered the grim news. Nikolai''s eyes burned with rage, but he restrained himself, channeling his fury into cold resolve.


    ¡°I have no time to be angry. Hurry up and deploy the barrier with the artifacts I gave you all,¡± Nikolai commanded.


    The seven masked soldiers obeyed, each pulling out a ring adorned with a purple gemstone, an inscribed rune glowing faintly within. As they placed the rings on their fingers, shadow-like tendrils emerged, embedding themselves into the soldiers'' flesh. The rings feasted on their life energy, causing their bodies to wither and decay rapidly. They screamed in agony, desperately trying to remove the rings, but it was futile. One by one, they collapsed to the ground, lifeless. The gemstones shattered, releasing dark shadows that circled the perimeter of Iris¡¯s home.


    ¡°Normal humans without aura have no hope of using artifacts without paying extreme consequences. Their sacrifices won''t be remembered. None of this will,¡± Nikolai said coldly, watching the shadows complete their circuit.


    ¡°Y-you wouldn''t do that to me, r-right, sir?¡± Lucia asked timidly, her voice quivering.


    Nikolai turned his piercing gaze toward her. ¡°You are far more useful to me alive, Lucia.¡±


    Lucia swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. Scarlet remained silent, her eyes fixed on the darkening sky, a smirk playing on her lips. She was eager for the coming battle and to be reunited with Markus.


    Meanwhile, Markus and Wallace reached the outskirts of Iris''s home, their breaths ragged from the relentless sprint. They could sense the malevolent energy surrounding the house, a horrific barrier that sent chills down their spines.


    ¡°What a tricky barrier, to the unawakened anything that happens within the home will go unnoticed. As for the awakened, it will tear apart anyone who tries to destroy it,¡± Wallace said, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and disgust.


    As he studied the barrier, he could hear the faint, agonized screams of those who were sacrificed to create it. Shadowy hands reached out, begging to be saved, only to burn Wallace''s hand when he tried to touch them.


    ¡°How cruel to toy with people''s lives like this. Whoever our enemy is, I''ll make sure they pay,¡± Markus said furiously, his eyes burning with determination.


    Inside the house, Iris lay in bed, unaware of the unfolding chaos. She was deep in a restless sleep when a voice called out to her.


    ¡°Iris, Iris, please wake up. You must wake up right now,¡± the voice urged.


    Despite never hearing it before, the voice felt warm and familiar to Iris, like a long-lost friend. It filled her with a strange sense of trust and urgency.


    As she woke up, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she noticed her bookmark, a paper butterfly, softly glowing a golden color as it flapped its wings. She felt an inexplicable connection to it and the voice.


    ¡°W-who are you? Why did you wake me up?¡± Iris asked in a soft voice.


    The paper butterfly didn¡¯t answer. It simply began to flutter away, leading her out of her room and down the stairs. Intrigued and a little frightened, she followed it, the house eerily quiet except for the soft rustling of its wings.


    The butterfly led her to the dining hall, where a small present with a note sat on the table. Iris picked up the note and read it. ¡°Your birthday is coming up soon, right? I hope you enjoy this gift. Please stay downstairs and open it. May this book guide you through the darkest of times. Trust in your strength and the light within. You are stronger than you know, Iris. Please, no matter what, survive.¡± There was no name on the letter, only a stamp with a butterfly symbol. A small damp spot over the word survive as if a tear had been dropped upon it.


    Curiosity piqued, Iris carefully unwrapped the present, her fingers tingling with anticipation. Inside, she discovered a beautiful red book, its cover rich and velvety, embossed with intricate gold patterns. As she marveled at the elegant design, the delicate butterfly that had accompanied her earlier floated down, its wings shimmering in the soft light. It gracefully settled upon the book''s cover, transforming once again into a simple yet enchanting bookmark, its intricate details adding an extra touch of magic to the already captivating gift.


    Her fingers traced the intricate designs on the book¡¯s cover, feeling an unusual warmth emanating from it.


    Outside, Nikolai, Scarlet, and Lucia prepared the formation. Scarlet stood in front of the house, generating a heavy amount of fire. Nikolai watched the barrier, knowing exactly where Markus and Wallace were on the other side. Lucia sat there, tired from her first gate use and uneasy about the upcoming battle.


    ¡°Nikolai, all I have to do is burn that room upstairs, right?¡± Scarlet asked, pointing at Iris¡¯s bedroom window.


    ¡°Yes, that is correct. Don''t use too much firepower, just enough to light the house on fire,¡± Nikolai commanded.


    ¡°You¡¯re always so serious, boss, but fine, I understand you¡¯re motivated more than any of us for this mission to succeed, No matter what I''ll make sure it happens,¡± Scarlet said, smiling.


    The flames she had generated suddenly condensed into a single small orb as she fired it directly into Iris¡¯s bedroom window. The small, condensed orb violently expanded as its flames covered the entire upstairs floor. The clock in Iris¡¯s room fell to the ground as it broke, the time saying 8:00. As Iris sat downstairs at the dining room table looking at the book, a loud crash startled her. She looked up to see flames spreading across the ceiling. She clutched the book tightly, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort as she heard a voice whisper to her.


    ¡°Don''t worry, I promise it will be alright,¡± the warm voice said.


    ¡°That might have been a bit too much.¡± Nikolai sighed, watching the house burn.


    Outside the barrier, Markus and Wallace panicked, trying to figure out how to destroy it. Any attack they made would quickly be regenerated as the barrier attempted to pull them into it.


    ¡°Wallace, you¡¯re going to hate me for this, but I have a plan,¡± Markus said.


    Before even giving Wallace a chance to respond, he quickly ran to the barrier as the shadows crawled along his arms. Markus, driven by a mix of desperation and determination, pushed through the burning pain as the shadows clawed at his arms, shredding his flesh. Wallace¡¯s frantic shouts barely registered over the throbbing agony.


    ¡°Markus, you idiot, stop it!¡± Wallace¡¯s voice cracked with desperation and fear.


    Markus gritted his teeth, his breaths shallow and ragged, his mind focused on one thing: breaking through the barrier. Despite the searing pain, he pressed forward with sheer willpower.


    ¡°I''ve always had a high compatibility with death-type artifacts. That''s part of the reason I got this stupid codename¡­ Reaper. Trust me, I could never be done in by a shoddy barrier like this,¡± Markus managed to growl through the pain, each word a struggle.


    With a surge of effort, Markus forcibly opened a wide enough hole in the barrier. Drawing on his ability, he locked the space of the barrier in place long enough for him and Wallace to slip through.


    ¡°You stupid idiot, if you try something like that again, I will¡­¡± Wallace¡¯s threat hung unfinished as his gaze darted to the burning house and the figures of Nikolai and Scarlet. He quickly focused on healing Markus¡¯s grievously injured arms before pulling two rings from his pocket and sliding them onto his fingers.


    The first ring was delicately sculpted into the whimsical form of a rabbit, its ears perked up in perpetual curiosity. Nestled within its tiny paws is a small, clear crystal that catches the light, refracting it into a dazzling array of colors. The second ring is a bold and dynamic contrast, shaped like a gallant horse in mid-gallop. Its powerful form is frozen in motion, and within its open mouth rests a small, vibrant blue crystal, reminiscent of a sapphire glistening in the sunlight.


    ¡°I''ll deal with them. Save Iris,¡± Markus ordered, his voice strained but resolute.


    Wallace nodded wordlessly, channeling his aura into the horse ring. In an instant, his speed increased exponentially, propelling him past Nikolai and Scarlet as he sprinted toward the engulfed house.


    ¡°It''s been a while, hasn''t it, Markus? The last time we crossed paths was in Egypt. I gave you quite a nasty scar then, didn''t I?¡± Nikolai¡¯s voice carried a hint of amusement, his smile cold and calculating.


    Markus¡¯s expression hardened, his gaze unwavering. ¡°Sure, that''s true. But I gave you one as well, you bastard.¡±


    ¡°Now, I must ask,¡± Nikolai continued casually, ¡°why are the famed Reaper and Saint here to collect this child? You typically only appear for combat missions or when an awakened is unstable. Yet this child hasn''t even awakened to her abilities.¡±


    ¡°The Bookkeeper requested our presence here. Since I''ve answered your question, how about you answer mine? Why are you here to kill Iris?¡± Markus demanded, his tone laced with anger.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°How odd. I thought that damned Bookkeeper wasn''t allowed to foresee the keys'' futures. He must have found some sort of loophole. I''ll have to inform Pandora about it,¡± Nikolai sighed, his demeanor shifting subtly.


    ¡°So you won''t answer this question, that''s fine,¡± Markus sighed.


    Markus, fueled by anger and determination, moved with lethal speed. A knife materialized in his hand as he teleported directly in front of Nikolai, slashing at his neck with a swift, precise motion. The blade cut deep, drawing blood and causing Nikolai to stagger back, surprise flickering across his face.


    Scarlet reacted instantly, conjuring flames around Markus in an attempt to drive him back. Markus, undeterred, leaped away from the flames, his mind focused solely on his next move. He knew this confrontation was far from over, even as Wallace raced into the burning house to find Iris.


    ¡°Always so violent. Here, I thought two old friends could have a nice chat,¡± Nikolai said, holding his now bleeding neck.


    ¡°You¡¯re powerful, I admit that. But you can''t beat me. That ability of yours to manipulate metal could never beat my Authority of Space,¡± Markus retorted, his voice brimming with confidence.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, metal manipulation alone could never win against you,¡± Nikolai said with a crazed smile.


    The space around Nikolai''s neck began to warp as if reality itself glitched as he said, ¡°Authority of Error, error of time¡±, in an instant, the wound inflicted by Markus disappeared as if it had never happened.


    ¡°Authority? Since when do you have an authority-type ability?¡± Markus asked, utterly shocked by this revelation.


    ¡°Enough talk. It''s time for the reaper to be reaped,¡± Nikolai declared, a long black katana appearing from a ring he wore.


    As the intense battle outside raged on between Markus and Nikolai, the air crackled with tension. Nikolai¡¯s katana, an elegant and lethal blade, gleamed ominously in the dim light. Its formidable length stretched over three feet, the deep, lustrous black surface absorbing light like a void in space. Intricate crimson waves and whorls danced along its edge, adding to its ominous presence. A faint, eerie scream seemed to echo from the depths of the blade, hinting at its malevolent power.


    Markus, undeterred by the overwhelming aura of Nikolai¡¯s artifact, pressed forward with determination.


    ¡°Fine then, just answer me this question. You didn''t the last time I asked you. Why did you leave A.E.G.I.S.? This goes for both of you. Scarlet, why did you betray us?¡± Markus demanded, his voice heavy with sorrow and accusation.


    Scarlet, unable to meet Markus¡¯s gaze, remained silent, her conflicted emotions visible.


    ¡°You know why we left. It had to be done after what happened. Now let''s end this. Error of location,¡± Nikolai interjected abruptly, teleporting with astonishing speed in front of Markus and swinging his katana directly at Markus¡¯s head.


    Markus reacted swiftly, his instincts guiding him to raise his knife in defense. The clash of metal rang out sharply in the tense air, the force of Nikolai¡¯s strike sending Markus stumbling back, his arm stinging from the impact.


    ¡°Using your signature artifact against me while I¡¯m stuck with this shoddy knife is quite unfair,¡± Markus retorted, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating from his arm.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Allowing you to keep that knife was a mistake. Now, fuse¡ªAuthority of Error and Metal Manipulation,¡± Nikolai declared calmly, his arm extending as reality once again began to warp around him.


    In an instant, Markus watched in disbelief as his knife¡¯s blade began to corrode and rust away until only the handle remained in his grip.


    Meanwhile, inside the engulfed house, flames roared hungrily through each room as if driven by an unseen force. Iris cowered in the dining room, tears streaming down her cheeks as the heat intensified and all escape routes seemed blocked.


    ¡°Open me, you have to open me,¡± a voice called out from the book in Iris¡¯s trembling hands. Unlike the earlier soothing voice of the butterfly, this one sounded urgent, resembling that of a young woman.


    Driven by desperation, Iris obeyed, opening the book with trembling hands. A radiant golden light burst forth, enveloping her in a protective glow. Miraculously, the fire seemed to falter and retreat, repelled by the luminous aura emanating from the pages. The book turned its pages on its own accord, stopping at an illustration of a butterfly surrounded by flames. Iris traced the image with her fingers, feeling a surge of unknown power coursing through her.


    The voice from within the book continued to speak, its words muffled yet strangely familiar, resonating deep within Iris¡¯s soul. As she read the page the book had revealed to her, swarms of butterflies emerged from the book as they formed a barrier to protect Iris.


    Outside, Markus and Nikolai continued their deadly dance, each move calculated and precise. As Wallace desperately searched through the engulfed house, flames licking at every corner, he called out Iris''s name with mounting fear. His voice echoed through the smoke-filled rooms, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. Then, a faint response pierced through the chaos.


    ¡°I''m here, w-who are you?¡± Iris''s voice trembled from under the dining room table, hidden safely behind the barrier conjured by the book.


    Relief flooded Wallace as he hurried towards her voice, his body racked with burns that he constantly healed on the go. Smoke clawed at his throat and lungs, but he pushed through, fueled by the need to rescue Iris. He finally spotted her, clutching the old and worn book tightly, seemingly unaware of the protective barrier surrounding her.


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m not too late. I¡¯m here to save you. Just go to sleep for now, alright? Everything will be fine when you wake up,¡± Wallace urged gently, extending his hand towards her.


    A pale white light emanated from the crystal on the rabbit-shaped ring as Iris, exhausted and overwhelmed, succumbed to sleep. Wallace carefully lifted her into his arms, noticing with surprise that the flames no longer harmed him, though he couldn''t fathom why.


    Outside, the fierce battle between Markus and Nikolai raged on, each move a deadly dance of strategy and power. Scarlet and Lucia watched anxiously from the sidelines, witnessing the conflict unfold with grim determination. Nikolai, gradually gaining the upper hand, pressed his advantage against Markus, his movements swift and precise.


    ¡°Markus, we have to get out of here now!¡± Wallace''s urgent voice cut through the chaos as he emerged from the burning house with Iris in his arms.


    ¡°Damn it, Wally, get out of there!¡± Scarlet shouted, launching fiery projectiles towards Wallace and Iris in a desperate attempt to halt their escape.


    Markus reacted swiftly, teleporting to intercept the fireballs and erecting a barrier to shield them. In that split second, Nikolai seized the opportunity, teleporting behind Markus with lethal intent, his katana poised to strike. Markus barely managed to conjure another barrier in time to deflect the attack, the clash of energies reverberating through the air.


    ¡°This battle is taking too long. It''s time I finished it. Lucia, prepare the gate. We¡¯ll be gone very soon,¡± Nikolai declared, his voice cutting through the chaos of the battlefield with icy determination. His gaze remained fixed on Markus, who stood opposite him, wearied but resolute.


    Lucia, visibly fatigued from her earlier use of the gate ability, nodded silently. She raised her arms, the air around her shimmering as she summoned a lime-green portal.


    Nikolai lifted his katana to his neck, the blade glinting ominously in the dim light. Blood trickled slowly down its edge, its presence seemingly amplifying the eerie whispers emanating from its steel.


    ¡°Release your true form, grade 0 artifact, Fang of the Gluttonous Monarch,¡± Nikolai exclaimed, a burst of manic laughter escaping his lips.


    The katana seemed to liquefy into shadowy tendrils, crawling along Nikolai¡¯s arm until they covered half his body, merging with his dark hair. Simultaneously, his outstretched hand caused fractured gem fragments to tremble violently.


    ¡°Come back and reform, grade 0 artifact, Left Eye of the Gluttonous Monarch,¡± he commanded, the gem fragments fusing onto a ring adorning his finger.


    The ring transformed its surface into a sleek metallic sheen that seemed to meld with Nikolai¡¯s skin. Its edge, however, revealed a hidden danger, a fine blade that could easily slice through flesh, adorned with a deep purple gemstone pulsing with power. A cryptic rune etched upon it glowed faintly. Worn on his left hand, the ring exuded an aura of unsettling horror, amplifying the tension in the air.


    Markus, observing Nikolai¡¯s transformation, felt a chill of dread settle in his heart. ¡°This fight is unwinnable,¡± he thought grimly. Nikolai, already a formidable adversary, now possessed not one but two grade 0 artifacts. The mere possession of one was enough to massacre an untold number of people A.E.G.I.S estimated, but two of them, especially from what seemed to be a matching set, spelled an utterly hopeless situation.


    ¡°Wallace, run,¡± Markus commanded abruptly, breaking the tense silence. His voice was firm, betraying no hesitation. ¡°Get Iris to safety. I¡¯ll hold them off for as long as I can. Even if it costs me my life, do not look back.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± Wallace¡¯s voice cracked, a single tear tracing its path down his cheek. ¡°You¡¯re all I have left. I can¡¯t lose you too.¡±


    Markus¡¯s gaze softened momentarily before hardening again with resolve. ¡°We can¡¯t win this,¡± he said quietly, almost as if to himself. ¡°But with that artifact of Yours, you and Iris stand a chance at escaping. Please, Wallace, survive.¡±


    Before Wallace could respond, a spear of pure darkness pierced through the barrier surrounding them with eerie silence. The obsidian-colored shaft materialized out of nothingness, aimed unerringly at Nikolai''s back. With a sickening thud, it plunged into his flesh, piercing through his body as if it were mere mist.


    Nikolai''s eyes widened in shock as the spear sank deep into his back, its malevolent energy coursing through him like icy tendrils of despair. A sharp gasp escaped his lips, blending pain and anger as he staggered forward.


    Wallace''s heart raced as he witnessed the unexpected assault, his mind racing to comprehend where this attack came from. The scene unfolded in surreal slow motion before him, each detail etching itself into his memory with vivid clarity.


    Nikolai swiftly extracted the spear lodged in him, utilizing his Authority to heal himself. But before he could fully recover, seven more spears materialized from beyond the barrier, raining down on the members of Noir. Scarlet reacted with instinctive speed, conjuring a wall of searing flames to shield herself and her allies. Yet, one of the spears pierced through the fiery barrier, grievously injuring her as her arm fell to the ground.


    Markus seized the moment, grabbing Wallace as he held Iris in his arms, in a desperate sprint for escape. As they dashed, another spear whizzed past Markus¡¯s head, punching through the barrier and creating a temporary opening for their retreat.


    Glancing back, Wallace caught sight of the figure responsible for the barrage of spears. The man wore a dark cloak adorned with white roses, a hauntingly crude mixture of beauty and madness. Despite the emotionless mask covering his face, a single emotion consumed everyone present, fear.


    The hole torn open by the spears in the barrier refused to regenerate, allowing the cloaked figure to leap down from his rooftop vantage point and pass through unimpeded. Nikolai, quickly healing Scarlet¡¯s wounds, turned to confront the newcomer, only to receive a fierce punch to the face that sent him reeling backward.


    Scarlet, recovering from her injuries, prepared to unleash a torrent of flames at the cloaked figure. But when their eyes met, his gaze locked onto hers with a chilling intensity, freezing her in place with a fear she hadn¡¯t felt in years.


    ¡°Hello there, Mr. Dostoevsky. I have a proposition for you. Surrender today, abandon your pursuit of the key, and I promise you will live to see another day,¡± the cloaked man spoke, his voice carrying a weight of authority that matched his commanding presence.


    ¡°Who are you? And how did you learn of our operation?¡± Nikolai demanded, his voice strained from the blow he had just received.


    ¡°I won''t answer the second question, but you may call me Nihil,¡± the cloaked man replied, his tone resonating with a sense of finality that brooked no argument.


    The tense standoff between Noir and the mysterious figure named Nihil hung heavy in the air, the battlefield momentarily frozen in anticipation of what would happen next.


    Nikolai¡¯s fist surged with shadows, swelling in size as it connected with Nihil¡¯s form. In an instant, Nihil was reduced to a splatter on the ground, broken mask shards and blood staining the pavement.


    Nikolai chuckled to himself, reveling in his apparent victory. But his laughter faltered as he blinked, the blood and shards disappearing. Before he could react, Nihil stood behind him, a mocking laughter echoing softly.


    ¡°Always so prideful, Nikolai. You still have use to me, so I suggest you run while you still can,¡± Nihil whispered into Nikolai''s ear, his voice carrying a chilling undertone.


    Without a word, Nikolai gestured to Scarlet and Lucia, ordering them to evacuate as he led the way through the gate. The two women followed swiftly, casting wary glances back at the enigmatic figure who had effortlessly bested their leader.


    ¡°What a night this has been. The second key is likely in A.E.G.I.S¡¯s custody by now. I¡¯ll pay them a visit in the morning,¡± Nihil mused to himself, his voice barely audible as he faded into the shadows, dissolving the barrier around the burning house.


    Meanwhile, Markus and Wallace continued their desperate flight, their hearts pounding from the exertion. They slowed only when they noticed the barrier dissipating behind them.


    ¡°Contact headquarters. We need a gate ability to get us out of here,¡± Markus gasped, his breath ragged after the prolonged chase.


    ¡°On it. They should be here soon,¡± Wallace replied, already initiating the call for extraction.


    Moments later, an orange gate shimmered into existence before them. A women wearing a black suit and red tie stepped out gesturing them inside. Without hesitation, Markus and Wallace stepped through, finding themselves transported to the secure confines of A.E.G.I.S¡¯s Alpha Facility, where their next steps awaited them.

 Chapter 3-The Alpha Facility

    Markus and Wallace stepped through the glowing orange gate, feeling a brief, disorienting jolt as they were instantly teleported from the quaint, cobblestone streets of Applecrest to the heart of A.E.G.I.S¡¯s Alpha Facility. The stark contrast between the two locations was striking. Applecrest''s rustic charm, with its ivy-clad cottages and ancient apple tree, was replaced by the sleek, modern architecture of the underground complex. Gleaming metallic walls, polished to a mirror finish, lined the corridors, and the air hummed with the subtle vibration of advanced technology. Dim, ambient lighting cast a cool, bluish glow, illuminating the facility¡¯s expansive and meticulously organized layout, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere.


    The Alpha Facility was a sprawling subterranean fortress, designed with both security and functionality in mind. This was the epicenter for training the Awakened who had joined A.E.G.I.S. State-of-the-art training arenas simulated various environments to test and hone the unique abilities of these extraordinary individuals. Adjacent to the training zones were secure vaults and containment chambers, each reinforced with layers of enchantments and cutting-edge technology to safely store powerful artifacts and contain dangerous creatures. The facility¡¯s advanced surveillance system, with its network of omnipresent cameras and motion sensors, ensured that every corner was meticulously monitored. Guards, each equipped with high-tech weapons and biometric monitors, patrolled the facility, creating an impenetrable security net.


    Beyond its utilitarian aspects, the Alpha Facility also provided a sense of community and comfort for its inhabitants. A sprawling housing complex offered private quarters, communal lounges, and recreational areas where the students could relax and socialize. The underground environment was carefully controlled to provide optimal living conditions, complete with artificial sunlight that cycled through a simulated day-night rhythm, ensuring the residents maintained a semblance of normalcy despite being buried beneath the earth''s surface. The facility was a vibrant and dynamic place, buzzing with the energy and potential of its unique residents, each one a beacon of extraordinary potential and uncharted capabilities.


    Wallace led Markus towards his laboratory, still holding the unconscious Iris in his arms. As Wallace swiped his key card and entered the room, Markus took in the sight of the chaotic workspace. The room was a jumble of various files, disorganized and scattered about, creating a stark contrast to the otherwise pristine facility. These files contained detailed analyses of various students, descriptions of different types of artifacts, and records of the creatures currently being contained within the facility. Markus glanced at these files as he waited for Wallace to set up. One file described a student with the ability of Cryokinesis. The agents who found her reported she had been homeless, shivering on the freezing streets. She was discovered last year and had since become the top student in her class.


    ¡°What a nostalgic story,¡± Markus murmured to himself, thinking back to his own depressing days before joining A.E.G.I.S.


    ¡°I know this place is a mess, but don''t go snooping through my files,¡± Wallace said, setting Iris down gently on a chair.


    ¡°You always complain about my room being a mess, yet look at this place,¡± Markus said mockingly, glancing around at the scattered papers and messy stacks of books.


    ¡°Well, Jonathan won''t hire any more staff, so I have to take care of all this by myself. The three of us might be of equal rank, but since that bastard runs this facility, he¡¯s constantly on a power trip,¡± Wallace complained, his frustration evident in his furrowed brow and tightly clenched fist.


    ¡°You''re not wrong, but there''s nothing we can do. This is his domain,¡± Markus replied with a resigned sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.


    ¡°Let''s hurry this along, I still need to hand in all the reports of the new Awakened that were found this year. I¡¯m cutting it close with this last report,¡± Wallace sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall.


    Wallace gently shook Iris awake, her eyelids fluttering open as she began to regain consciousness. She blinked, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar room before settling on the two men in front of her.


    ¡°W-where am I? Who are you people? Get away, you creepy doctor!¡± Iris exclaimed, her voice trembling with fear as tears gradually built in her eyes.


    ¡°C-creepy? Markus, do I look creepy?¡± Wallace asked, suddenly self-conscious, running a hand through his disheveled hair.


    ¡°It¡¯s mainly the bags under your eyes and your general mopey personality that drive others away from you,¡± Markus said, not holding any punches, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.


    Wallace looked back at Iris, his shoulders slumping as he said in a defeated voice, ¡°Your house burned down, and we rescued you.¡±


    ¡°W-where are my parents?¡± Iris asked, her voice cracking as tears began to fall from her eyes, her small frame shaking with sobs.


    ¡°Let''s forget about that for now and move on to the main reason you¡¯ve been brought here. We believe you have superpowers,¡± Markus said in a cheery voice, clearly trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.


    ¡°Superpowers? What are you talking about? There''s no way those exist,¡± Iris said, her skepticism evident despite her tear-streaked face, her brows furrowing in confusion.


    ¡°Most kids get excited after we tell them they may have an ability,¡± Wallace whispered to Markus, glancing at Iris¡¯s disbelieving expression.


    ¡°It¡¯s best if we just show you,¡± Markus said as he distorted the space around himself and became invisible, his form shimmering and then disappearing completely.


    Iris''s face quickly filled with shock and awe as she watched the phenomenon unfold before her eyes, her mouth falling open in amazement. ¡°There¡¯s the excitement,¡± Wallace chuckled to himself, a small smile forming across his mouth.


    ¡°Wait, so I can do that as well?¡± Iris asked, her voice rising with newfound enthusiasm, her previous fear momentarily forgotten.


    ¡°We''re not fully sure what your ability is just yet,¡± Markus said, reappearing from his invisible state, his form solidifying before her.


    Iris looked around the room, her fear slowly being replaced by curiosity and hope. The thought of possessing powers she had never imagined was overwhelming but also strangely exhilarating.


    ¡°Based on my analysis, you haven''t actually awakened to your ability yet, but we¡¯ve developed a catalyst to force your body to awaken,¡± Wallace commented, his tone shifting to one of clinical detachment as he explained the procedure.


    ¡°Before we do anything, we should take her to a different room. If there''s a flare-up, it would be bad if she accidentally destroys all the research here,¡± Markus suggested, glancing around at the delicate equipment and sensitive files.


    Wallace nodded, grabbing a briefcase from the floor and motioning for Iris to follow them. They made their way through the facility''s labyrinthine corridors until they reached an empty gymnasium. The space was vast, with high ceilings and reinforced walls, perfect for containing any unexpected outbursts of power.


    ¡°If you could do me a big favor and close your eyes, here I''ll even give you a lollipop, just focus on that,¡± Wallace said, holding out a piece of candy, his tone almost playful.


    ¡°My mom said not to take candy from strangers. I especially shouldn¡¯t take it from creepy doctors,¡± Iris replied, crossing her arms and glaring at Wallace.


    Wallace felt as if he had been stabbed with a comically large arrow labeled ¡°creepy,¡± as he stood there with an even greater look of defeat, his shoulders slumping even more.


    ¡°I wanted to be nice, but fine, so be it. To awaken your abilities, we have to inject you with this needle. I was just going to poke you with it the moment you closed your eyes and use my ability to constantly heal you so you didn¡¯t feel a thing, but here we are,¡± Wallace sighed, pulling the syringe out of his briefcase, his tone now resigned.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just close my eyes,¡± Iris said, deathly afraid of needles, her voice trembling as she shut her eyes tightly.


    Wallace¡¯s green aura enveloped Iris¡¯s arm as he injected her with the syringe. She didn¡¯t feel a thing as he administered the glowing purple liquid. Suddenly, an intense aura exploded around her, knocking Wallace and Markus back. The aura was a swirling mixture of crimson and black, with small bolts of lightning crackling from the black portions. The colors clashed violently, each trying to dominate the other until they eventually began to blend into a harmonious, yet intense, fusion.


    Both Markus and Wallace looked on in amazement, this being their first time encountering someone whose awakening was so powerful. Even the one they believed could become a prodigy amongst the Awakened, found only a week ago, paled in comparison to what they were witnessing.


    As the aura settled, Iris stood in the center of the gymnasium, her eyes glowing with the same intense colors that had surrounded her. The surrounding air buzzed with raw energy, making the hair on Markus and Wallace¡¯s arms stand on end.


    ¡°So many troublesome new students we¡¯ve acquired this year,¡± Wallace sighed to himself, rubbing the back of his neck.


    ¡°Um, what do I do now?¡± Iris asked nervously, glancing around the gymnasium as if the answers might be written on the walls.


    ¡°You should now be able to sense an intangible energy circling you. We call this power aura. Try to condense the aura into your palm. We¡¯re not sure what your ability is just yet, so we¡¯ll have to try various methods,¡± Wallace explained, his voice calm and instructional.


    Iris did as he said, focusing intently as the energy in the air violently became drawn to her. The aura condensed into her palm, forming a small yet brilliant flame. It was a beautiful golden color that shone brighter than any pirate''s treasure. The heat generated from it was immense, as Wallace and Markus could feel it from where they were standing.


    ¡°F-fire?¡± Iris said, staring blankly at the flame. Memories from that night flooded her head, and she began to cry. The flame, in response, violently exploded, knocking Markus and Wallace back once more as it spread throughout the room.


    ¡°Of course, the girl who just obtained a fear of fire gains a fire ability. Just my luck. It''s a good thing I requested we get fire-proof uniforms,¡± Wallace muttered to himself, shaking his head.


    Iris cried, clutching her book tightly as the flames grew more uncontrollable due to her emotions.


    ¡°Markus, I''ll try to calm her down. Go see if we have any Awakened with hydrokinesis here,¡± Wallace commanded, his voice urgent yet steady, resonating with the gravity of the situation.


    Markus quickly ran off, fully trusting his brother as he went to look for assistance. He sprinted through the facility''s maze-like corridors, his mind racing with thoughts of how to help Iris and wondering who among the Awakened present in the facility might possess the needed water-manipulating abilities.


    Meanwhile, Wallace approached Iris with the caution of a man facing a wild beast. His aura shimmered with a soothing green light, around his body, an attempt to heal himself, even as the frenzied flames scorched him. The fire seemed almost sentient, burning away any attempts at healing before they could take effect, targeting his aura before searing his skin.


    ¡°What kind of ability is this? I''ve never seen a pyrokinetic do this before,¡± Wallace muttered, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he studied the malevolent flames. They danced with a life of their own, crackling and roaring as they encircled Iris.


    ¡°Get away! Get away! Get away! Get away! I hate it, I hate these flames, get away from me!¡± Iris shouted, her voice cracking with hysteria. Her eyes were wide with terror, reflecting the surrounding inferno.


    ¡°The more she panics, the stronger her flames become. I need to calm her down,¡± Wallace thought, determination hardening his features into a mask of resolve. The flames intensified, the heat blistering his skin. Every step was agony, the air itself shimmering with the intense heat.


    Despite the pain, Wallace pressed forward, his teeth gritted against the relentless fire. His glove had been burned away, revealing a tattoo of a clock on his hand, the hands frozen at ten o''clock. Yet despite the pain towards Wallace, the flames spared Iris, leaving her clothes and skin unscathed amidst the chaos.


    ¡°Iris, I need you to calm down, please. I can''t hold out in these flames much longer!¡± Wallace shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring fire.


    ¡°Why¡­ why is this my power? Why fire?¡± Iris sobbed, tears evaporating instantly as they streamed down her cheeks, vanishing into the superheated air.


    ¡°I know you''re afraid, but I''ll save you. Just like the last time you were surrounded by fire, I''ll do it again,¡± Wallace reassured her, his voice softening despite the urgency. The flames began to lessen slightly, allowing him to heal himself, though not as effectively as usual. His aura battled the lingering flames as he inched closer.


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    ¡°I''ll help you control fire itself. It will never be able to get close to you again; it will never burn away what you care for again,¡± Wallace vowed, now standing mere inches from Iris. His eyes bore into hers, filled with unyielding determination.


    ¡°Do you promise?¡± Iris asked, her voice trembling as she held out her pinkie, the gesture so innocent amidst the inferno. Tears continued to stream down her face, and as the flames died down, her tears no longer evaporated, leaving glistening trails on her cheeks.


    Wallace wrapped his pinkie around hers, the flames vanishing completely at that moment of connection. With a warm, reassuring smile, he said, ¡°I promise.¡±


    Just then, Markus burst into the room, a woman following closely behind. She wore a crisp suit with a striking red tie, her short curly hair a vivid blue that contrasted with her sharp green eyes. A small ring adorned her finger, and a faint scar marked the corner of her mouth, hinting at past battles.


    ¡°Looks like you were able to calm her down. Sorry for wasting your time, Mia,¡± Markus apologized, slightly out of breath.


    ¡°It''s perfectly fine. I''d rather have my time wasted than not be here when there''s an emergency,¡± Mia replied in a calm, composed voice, her demeanor exuding professionalism.


    ¡°Anyway, Iris, once classes start, this will be your teacher, Mrs. Stone,¡± Markus introduced, but his voice trailed off as he noticed Iris had passed out, her body finally succumbing to exhaustion.


    ¡°Markus, can you bring her to her dorm room? I need to finish up the last bit of paperwork and hand it over to Jonathan. Mia, could you help me out with the rest of the paperwork, as all that is for your class?¡± Wallace requested, his voice regaining its usual authority.


    ¡°Sure, just don''t expect me to go into his office. Last time I did, his plants bit me,¡± Mia complained, a hint of exasperation in her tone.


    ¡°That''s because you tried asking for a raise,¡± Wallace responded with a chuckle.


    The two of them began to write up the final reports, the scratching of pens filling the room as Wallace gathered all seven reports for Mia''s classroom. With a sigh, he made his way to Jonathan''s office, mentally preparing for the encounter ahead.


    Wallace entered Jonathan''s office and was immediately greeted by a vibrant indoor garden. Sunlight trickled through a small skylight, casting a gentle glow over the room. Bioluminescent plants illuminated the space, their soft, otherworldly light mingling with the natural sunbeams. The floor was carpeted with lush grass and monstrous Venus flytraps, they suddenly turned their heads, their predatory gaze fixed on Wallace as he made his way inside. At the center of this verdant sanctuary stood a white lawn table with two matching chairs. A bouquet of various flowers was resting on the table. Seated in one of the chairs was a man sipping tea. He stood at 6 feet (1.83 meters) tall, with green hair that cascaded like vines down his head. This organic appearance was starkly contrasted by his cold, piercing purple eyes and a small beard. He wore a crisp white shirt beneath a sleek black vest, and his right hand was encased in a green glove, completing his intriguing and somewhat enigmatic look.


    ¡°Oh good, you''re finally here. Don''t worry, I understand. I already know that damned Bookkeeper gave you a last-minute Awakened to collect,¡± Jonathan said with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.


    ¡°Yeah, that mission was absolute hell. I have all the files for Mrs. Stone''s classroom. I''ll read them off in order of interest, with the least interesting ones going first,¡± Wallace replied, his voice cold yet calm. He pulled out the first file with a practiced efficiency.


    The first file contained a picture of a boy with medium-length cyan hair and piercing red eyes. He wore black square-framed glasses, and the file listed his ability as Cryokinesis. The file listed that he was eleven years old. His name was Xavier Walker.


    ¡°To be fully honest, this kid was never even on the Bookkeeper¡¯s list. Both of his parents are researchers here. He accidentally froze their dog to death, and the moment they realized what had happened, they brought him to us. They¡¯re nobody of importance, just running tests on low-level monsters. Though I¡¯d recommend offering them some kind of reward for bringing their son into this hellhole,¡± Wallace said coldly, his eyes flicking up to meet Jonathan''s.


    ¡°I take offense to that. I run this place rather well, but I''ll give them a pay increase or something,¡± Jonathan responded, a hint of irritation in his voice.


    ¡°As you can tell by the rarity of this case alone, this entire class is filled with quite odd circumstances. Hell, this may be one of the few Awakened we have in our ranks whose parents are still alive,¡± Wallace added, a touch of bitterness creeping into his tone.


    ¡°Alright, read off the next file. I''m quite interested in seeing what else is here,¡± Jonathan said, his excitement barely contained. He leaned forward, eager to hear more about the new recruits.


    The second file contained a picture of a boy with short yet messy brown hair, somber brown eyes, and caramel-colored skin. He was wearing tattered rags, and multiple injuries covered his face and arms¡ªthose visible at least. The file listed his ability as doll creation. His age was also noted to be ten years old. His name was Jacob Forester.


    ¡°I healed him the moment the agents who recovered him brought him to me, though his injuries were quite extensive. Most likely caused by abuse,¡± Wallace said, rubbing his arm as if remembering something he wished to forget.


    ¡°I''ll trust your judgment on that. So what happened to his parents?¡± Jonathan asked, a hint of animosity in his voice.


    ¡°The father has long been dead. It was suspected that the mother had killed him, but the case was dismissed due to lack of evidence. As for that human trash of a mother, she was ripped to shreds by a monster that had gotten loose in the area. The agents arrived to save the kid, but sadly they weren''t in time to save the mother,¡± Wallace said, a slight note of sarcasm coloring his last words.


    ¡°Tell me about this ''doll creation'' ability. I don''t believe we''ve seen it before,¡± Jonathan requested, his curiosity piqued.


    ¡°It seems as though he can make inanimate objects act according to his will. We still need to run more tests, but at the moment it works best with objects that already have a humanoid shape. With proper training, it should have quite a lot of uses,¡± Wallace explained.


    ¡°He could be quite a valuable asset for stealth missions. Alright, what''s next?¡± Jonathan said, his gleeful anticipation evident.


    The third file contained a picture of a boy with medium-length hair that covered his right eye. He had piercing blue eyes, and multiple objects were floating around him as if they were trying to hit the camera in the image. His arms were tied up, and two A.E.G.I.S agents were holding him in the photo. His ability was listed as telekinesis. The file mentioned that he was twelve years old. His name was listed as Charles Wells.


    ¡°Why the hell is he tied up?¡± Jonathan asked, staring blankly at the photo, his expression darkening.


    ¡°He was quite hostile when we retrieved him. He''s the son of the leaders of the Black Lotus Society. We raided their base, and the agents there felt it was best to take him with us,¡± Wallace said, sighing heavily.


    ¡°Oh right, I remember hearing about that raid. That organization committed numerous acts of human trafficking; they were a linchpin for quite a few bigger organizations like the Ark Foundation or that cult in Japan,¡± Jonathan commented, his tone darkening.


    ¡°It''s good you mentioned that cult. During the raid, they ran into the ''Executioner,'' second in command of that damned cult. I have no idea what he was doing here in the U.S., but he killed a lot of our agents, both Unawakened and Awakened, and then he just ran off,¡± Wallace said, his frustration evident.


    ¡°I''ll pass that information off to a certain bag-headed workaholic. For some reason, he desperately wants to kill Michello. Though odds are he''ll be too busy with his work to hunt him down before he heads back to Japan. Anything else of note with this child?¡± Jonathan asked, leaning back in his chair.


    ¡°As you can tell from the photo, this kid had already Awakened. Since both his parents were also Awakened, they trained him fairly well in his powers. I''ve already decided to put him on ability-dampening drugs until we can work out his anger issues. It will be difficult, though, since our agents did kill his parents in front of him,¡± Wallace sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.


    As he said that, Wallace brought out two files, this time for Jonathan to look at¡ªa pair of siblings. The first was a girl with short red hair and a single green eye. Her right eye had been removed. Her arms were covered in bandages, and she seemed incredibly afraid. The photo was taken with her older brother, who wouldn''t let her be alone for even a moment. Her ability was listed as Watcher. Her age was listed as ten years old. Furthermore, her name was Celia Hill.


    As for the older brother, he had short red hair and a single green eye. His left eye had been removed. His arms were covered in bandages, and he seemed overprotective of his sister. His ability was listed as sense removal. His age was listed as eleven years old. His name was Theo Hill.


    ¡°Watcher¡­ Watcher. Didn''t the leader of Ouroboros have this same ability? It allows you to watch your target no matter where they are in the world as long as they''re previously marked, right?¡± Jonathan asked, trying to recall the exact details.


    ¡°That is correct. As you can see, the ability''s usefulness speaks for itself, as it''s used by one of our most highly-rated enemies. As for the other ability, he seems to be able to render the target incapable of using one of the five senses. It''s quite a useful debuff ability,¡± Wallace explained, his tone professional but tinged with concern.


    Jonathan nodded thoughtfully, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk. ¡°So where did our agents find these two?¡±


    ¡°A raid had been conducted against one of the branches of the Arc Foundation. While we¡¯re not sure if this data is in the hands of the other branches, it''s unlikely. They finally succeeded in creating an artificial Awakened. That is, these two. By the time we got to the branch, every researcher there was dead. All that was left were these two kids and various deformed monstrosities. Every other test subject mutated and eventually escaped their cells, killing the researchers,¡± Wallace said coldly.


    ¡°Alright, understood. Make sure to pass the data you retrieved from them to the boss. He should be interested in this project. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure what could be more interesting than this case, and you still have two left,¡± Jonathan chuckled, his curiosity piqued.


    Wallace pulled out his second-to-last file, which showed a picture of a girl with crimson eyes and a mixture of white and red hair. She wore a pair of circular broken glasses on her face. From the looks of it, she was wearing an oversized lab coat, similar to Wallace''s. Her ability was written down as the Authority of Reality. She was ten years old, and her name was Alice West.


    Jonathan stared blankly at the file for a full minute before finally saying, ¡°Authority? This means this is the third authority user to join A.E.G.I.S. It''s no longer just your brother and bag-face, right? I can''t believe it, this is incredible.¡±


    ¡°Before you get too excited, it''s best you read over the file fully,¡± Wallace said as he flipped the page.


    Jonathan began to read over Alice''s file. His expression grew more horrified with each passing second.


    ¡°Alice has zero control over her abilities. She almost killed both Markus and me seven times before I used my ring to knock her out. The aura she emits at all times is enough to kill any Unawakened who gets too close to her. Any form of intrusive thought changes the world around her. A giant rabbit appeared behind Markus, attempting to eat him, and immediately after that, my boots turned to stone. The list of incidents goes on. She has been placed under the strongest ability-dampening drugs we own, the type given to inmates held at Area 51. Her mental state is utterly abysmal. Severe signs of abuse were found on her to the point I exhausted the majority of my energy to remove her scars. Her real parents are unknown; she simply appeared on the doorstep of an orphanage one day and was taken in by them. Eventually, she was adopted by a foster family who ended up abusing her. The mother and father''s corpses were found at the house, with her unconscious. Based on how distorted their bodies were, it''s been ruled that she killed them during her Awakening. Their heads were cut off, and they had playing cards stuffed in their mouths. These same cards were found in their stomachs, and the cause of death was ruled as suffocation. As it stands, she has no memories of killing her family. It''s recommended we request the Bookkeeper to remove those memories permanently.¡±


    ¡°One wrong move, one day where she goes without taking those drugs, and we all die. How lovely. There''s nothing we can do. Odds are we''ll have to do what we did with Markus and place seals on her to permanently limit her power. I''ll bring it up at the next meeting. For now, keep watch over her,¡± Jonathan ordered, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation.


    ¡°Alright, understood. I have one last file for you to look at,¡± Wallace said.


    Wallace revealed Iris''s file, the most notable aspect being her abilities: Pyrokinesis and an unknown authority-type ability.


    Jonathan stared blankly at the file, not fully sure of what to say.


    ¡°Another authority ability? You and Markus found two authority-type abilities? But why does it say the authority is unknown? Shouldn''t the Bookkeeper tell us these things?¡± Jonathan questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    ¡°For some reason, he refused to, saying it was too confidential. To be honest, we only figured out Iris had one because of the color of her aura during her Awakening. This whole mission was a mess. He didn''t even warn us that Nikolai would show up or that Nikolai, for some reason, also has an authority-type ability now,¡± Wallace said, frustration evident in his tone.


    ¡°I''ll look over these files fully. All the other classes are normal, but it looks like Mrs. Stone''s classroom is going to be quite a troublesome one. Damn it, I''m going to have to give her a raise for all this extra work,¡± Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temples.


    ¡°You''re always so reluctant to give raises. Honestly, I''d think you''d rather fight against Invidia alone than give someone a raise,¡± Wallace joked, trying to lighten the mood.


    ¡°Don''t joke like that. That damned raid was utter hell. The fact that we even did the raid is utterly ridiculous,¡± Jonathan said coldly, his eyes darkening at the memory.


    ¡°You''re right. I''m not sure why the boss was so obsessed with killing Invidia, but he clearly had an ulterior motive,¡± Wallace agreed, a hint of suspicion in his voice.


    ¡°Almost definitely. Well, you should get going. Classes start tomorrow, and we still have preparations to make. Also, tell Mrs. Stone to come to my office after classes to discuss raises,¡± Jonathan said, his discomfort evident in the last part.


    ¡°Alright, I will,¡± Wallace said, heading out of Jonathan''s office.


    As Wallace left, he bumped into a man holding a briefcase. The man''s movements were staggered and almost mechanical, with a small bump noticeable on his neck. The man entered Jonathan''s office and handed him the briefcase.


    ¡°Took you long enough to get here. Why are you damned zombies so inefficient?¡± Jonathan said, annoyed.


    Jonathan opened the briefcase, revealing various files inside. The handwriting was uneven and messy, as if copied down in a hurry.


    ¡°I really need to improve you zombies because this is barely legible,¡± Jonathan sighed, shaking his head.


    As Jonathan said that, a small mushroom emerged from the bump on the man''s neck. Blood slowly began to pour from the man''s eyes yet despite this he didn''t move an inch or scream.


    ¡°Looks like your time is up. Well, at least this data is useful. Now let''s see what our dear boss is hiding from us,¡± Jonathan muttered to himself, rummaging through the various files, his eyes scanning the contents with growing intrigue.


    More mushrooms began to sprout from the man¡¯s body. His hair fell off slowly as they appeared under his scalp. His finger and toenails ripped off as the mushrooms emerged from underneath. Despite the excruciating pain, the man didn''t move or speak a single word. His teeth fell out as mushrooms pushed through his gums. They then began to form inside his throat, causing the body to instinctually cough in a futile attempt to expel them, only for more to form. Eventually, they grew within his lungs, causing the man to collapse to the ground, dead. The mushrooms continued to sprout all over his body until it was utterly unrecognizable, then melted into a thick sludge that fertilized the grass on the ground.


    Jonathan ignored the violent display as he pulled out two files in particular, the first labeled Project:Dark Sun, the second was labeled, Project:Imagine.

 Chapter 4-Rebirth

    In the depths of a grand castle awaited a bedroom, a sanctuary of luxury and tranquility bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through sheer, silken drapes. The daylight cast an ethereal glow across the room, making the tapestries on the walls come alive with serene landscapes of verdant meadows and serene lakes. These intricate tapestries, masterfully woven with threads of gold and silver, depicted scenes that seemed to move as the light shifted. A grand chandelier, an intricate masterpiece of wrought iron and crystal, hung from the high ceiling, its numerous crystals catching the moonlight and casting delicate rainbows that danced across the room.


    A plush, oversized bed dominated the space, its four tall, ornate posts draped with rich, velvet curtains that could be drawn for privacy. The bed was covered in magnificent linens of the finest silk, their deep crimson hue contrasting beautifully with the soft white of the pillows. These pillows were abundant, each one more decorative than the last, embroidered with gold thread and adorned with tassels. Ornate furniture completed the lavish decor, a mahogany dresser with intricately carved handles, a matching mirror, and a velvet-upholstered chaise lounge, perfect for leisurely afternoons spent reading. Next to the lounge was a bookshelf of various fantasy novels, the most popular genre was ¡°isekai¡± which spoke about another world called Gaia and people traveling to it. The room exuded an aura of pure greed, every detail meticulously chosen to create an atmosphere of utmost luxury.


    Amidst this splendor, the gentle rise and fall of a boy''s form could be seen, nestled peacefully in the center of the sumptuous bed, lost in dreams. The boy had medium-length hair, as dark as a starless night, a stark contrast to the white linens around him. One striking feature was the single broken crimson horn protruding from his forehead, a symbol of his unique heritage. He wore a set of lavish purple pajamas, made of the softest fabric, and held onto a teddy bear, worn out and ripped, with notable stitches around its neck as if it had been reattached and remade. This bear, though old and battered, was clearly cherished. A small tag on the teddy bear read ¡°Timere Futura,¡± a curious and perhaps ominous phrase.


    As the boy continued to sleep, a maid walked into the room. She was a striking figure with long velvet-colored hair that cascaded down her back and dark green eyes that gleamed with intelligence and a hint of mischief. She wore an outfit reminiscent of a French maid, with a crisp white apron over a black dress, and small, delicate pink wings protruding from her back, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. Under her dress, strapped to her upper thigh, was a hidden holster for knives, hinting at a dangerous side beneath her composed exterior.


    ¡°Young master, wake up. Honestly, sleeping all day is unbecoming,¡± the maid complained as she kicked the boy''s bed, causing him to tumble out and land unceremoniously on the floor.


    The boy''s eyes fluttered open, revealing irises as crimson as fresh blood. He rubbed the back of his head as he began to get up from the ground, his expression a mix of irritation and resignation.


    ¡°Ouch, Alicia, what did you do that for? Why can''t you just wake me up like a normal maid? And it''s not even close to the afternoon, let alone sleeping all day,¡± the young master said, frustrated.


    ¡°You have an image to uphold, my young master. Your father has invited you to the council meeting, and you are expected to show up,¡± Alicia explained, her tone firm but not unkind.


    ¡°Fine, if I must. I don''t understand why Father even wants me as the seventh member anyway,¡± the young master complained, his tone petulant.


    ¡°You are our dear king''s only son, young Avaritia. There is no better option than you. Now let''s hurry and get you dressed,¡± Alicia said gleefully, her wings fluttering slightly as she moved.


    Alicia assisted in picking out his clothing and styling his hair, her movements swift and practiced. Avaritia finished getting dressed, wearing a white shirt with a black tailcoat jacket that had silver buttons and intricate embroidery along the cuffs. He paired it with black dress pants and polished black shoes, completing his ensemble. As he stood before the mirror, his reflection showed a young boy poised to take on the responsibilities thrust upon him, a mix of reluctance and determination in his crimson eyes.


    Before leaving, Avaritia took his teddy bear and hid it under his jacket, Alicia noticed but chose to feign ignorance. The two left Avaritia¡¯s bedroom and made their way to the meeting room. As they turned a corner, Alicia¡¯s ears twitched slightly, a sign of her heightened senses. Without a word, she grabbed Avaritia and swiftly covered his ears, pulling him back to hide behind the corner. Beyond the hallway, two maids began to chat, their voices dripping with disdain.


    ¡°Honestly, it makes no sense why our lord keeps that worthless trash still around,¡± Maid A complained, her voice full of venom.


    ¡°He was born a measly one star, but what did we expect? He¡¯s nothing more than a bastard. We still don''t know who his mother is,¡± Maid B laughed, her tone mocking.


    ¡°I bet she was just a common whore. Honestly, I feel bad for Alicia. She''s such an excellent maid yet is stuck as the personal attendant of that bastard with no future,¡± Maid A laughed cruelly.


    ¡°Did you hear the rumor? Apparently, the king is going to make that bastard the seventh member of the council. I bet Superbia is going to be angry,¡± Maid B said, her voice tinged with excitement.


    ¡°Definitely. That man has disapproved of the king ever since he replaced the previous one. Now, letting a one-star bastard into the council will certainly set him off,¡± Maid A chuckled maliciously.


    ¡°I can''t listen to this bullshit any longer,¡± Alicia muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing as she reached for the hidden knives.


    With deadly accuracy, she threw the knives, the blades slicing through the air and grazing the maids'' cheeks. Blood trickled down their faces as they stood frozen in shock. Alicia stepped out from the corner, her presence commanding and terrifying.


    ¡°If your tongues continue to act so light, your heads shall be the same,¡± Alicia threatened, her voice cold and unyielding.


    The two maids looked in horror as they spotted Alicia. They watched as she pulled out two more knives, her eyes burning with fury as she pointed the blades directly at them. The message was clear, another word and their lives would be forfeit. She swiftly grabbed Avarita by his hand and led him into the meeting room.


    ¡°What were those two talking about, and why do you look so angry?¡± Avaritia questioned, his curiosity piqued by Alicia''s sudden aggression.


    ¡°You do not need to worry about such details, young master. Nothing more than pathetic gossip spread by those who are jealous,¡± Alicia said with a forced smile, her voice trying to mask the anger simmering beneath the surface.


    ¡°You¡¯re a horrible liar,¡± Avaritia mumbled to himself, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched her.


    Alicia gestured for Avaritia to enter the meeting room, her demeanor shifting back to professional calm. As he stepped inside, she stayed behind, the door closing softly behind him.


    The meeting room exuded an air of mystery and authority, its dim lighting casting elongated shadows across the walls adorned with abstract art and intricate wood paneling. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken gravity, as though the very walls were privy to secrets and deliberations of immense importance. A large, oval table of dark polished wood sat at the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Seated in these chairs were seven individuals, their forms obscured by the strategic interplay of shadows and the soft, ambient glow from the overhead chandelier. The figures seemed almost ethereal, their features indistinct and shifting, cloaked in an enigmatic aura that made it impossible to discern their identities.


    Under these dark shadows sat each member of the council and their king. Their forms were unknown, but their names were known to Avaritia: Aether, Superbia, Gula, Luxuria, Invidia, Ira, and Acedia.


    ¡°My lord, is this the one who shall fulfill the sin of Greed? It''s been left empty ever since you came into power,¡± Luxuria inquired, her voice dripping with intrigue and malice.


    Luxuria, known as the sin of Lust within the council, was manipulative and cunning. Her strongest ability was the Authority of Mind, a power that could bend the will of others to her own, making her both feared and desired among the council members.


    ¡°Yes, my son. I believe there is no better candidate. Ira has been training him and can attest to his worthiness,¡± Aether replied, his voice resonating with the weight of unquestionable authority.


    Aether, their king, was a fair yet just ruler. Before ascending to the throne, he had held the title of the sin of Greed, a role he had played with ruthless efficiency.


    ¡°The bastard child, someone as worthless as that, is given a seat amongst our council? How ridiculous! The rest of this council is made up of those who were born five-stars, yet you want someone so pathetically beneath us to be considered an equal?¡± Superbia spat, his voice filled with disdain and rage.


    Superbia, the sin of Pride, was an arrogant man who coveted the throne for himself. His most prized ability was the Authority of Time, a power he believed elevated him above all others.


    ¡°Bite your tongue. I will not permit you to show any form of disrespect to our king,¡± Ira snapped, her voice brimming with anger as she brandished her sword, aiming it at Superbia.


    Ira, the most loyal to the king, held the title of the sin of Wrath. She would do anything for her king and wielded her Authority of Corruption to annihilate any of his enemies.


    The tension in the room was palpable as the council members assessed Avaritia. Each held their thoughts and judgments, but none could deny the king''s decree. Despite his doubts and Superbia''s harsh words, Avaritia stood tall, ready to prove his worthiness to the council and himself.


    ¡°Avaritia, take a seat over there next to Acedia,¡± Aether commanded, his voice echoing through the grand meeting room.


    Acedia, the sin of Sloth, had already fallen asleep during the meeting. Her prolific sleeping habits were well-known, and her Authority of Dreams allowed her to manipulate and traverse the dream realm.


    Avaritia took his seat as the meeting began, feeling the weight of the council''s scrutiny upon him.


    ¡°My lord, the most pressing issue is the disappearance of the seventy-two lords. So many high-ranking figures disappearing off the face of the Abyss is deeply concerning,¡± Gula spoke, their mouth full of food.


    Gula, the sin of Gluttony, had been munching away on snacks throughout the meeting. Their Authority of Probability allowed them to manipulate outcomes to their advantage, a power they often used to ensure their indulgences.


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    ¡°Yes, I understand how grave this incident is. However, there''s something I¡¯d like to propose to the council,¡± Aether said calmly.


    The council members'' attention focused on their king. Even those who were asleep or distracted looked toward him. Invidia, who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time, stared straight ahead, captivated by their king''s words.


    Invidia, the sin of Envy, was constantly fearful of the other sins to the point it could drive him mad. His strongest ability was his Authority of Madness, a power that could induce insanity in others.


    As the meeting continued, the weight of Aether''s proposal hung heavily in the air, a potential turning point in the fate of the Abyss.


    ¡°I would like to propose, for the first time in our history, an eighth member to be added to this council. They will be known as the sin of vanity,¡± Aether said confidently.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. How the hell are you even supposed to add another council member? Didn''t you hear about the seventy-two lords? The only ones who could be fit for such a position have all vanished. Don''t tell me you plan to add another dirty blood like your son. What, you got with another whore and made another freak show to add to our ranks?¡± Superbia furiously yelled.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you wouldn''t speak about my love like that, Superbia,¡± Aether said, his voice filled with a malice that sent chills down everyone''s spine.


    ¡°Then prove me wrong. None of us have ever met her. Our only knowledge of her existence is that bastard child over there,¡± Superbia sneered, his contempt evident.


    Aether chose to ignore the comment, his expression unchanging. For the first time during the tense meeting, he lifted his goblet and took a measured sip. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock as a sharp pain tore through his chest. He began to cough violently, splattering the table with dark blood. The room fell into a stunned silence.


    Luxuria, leaned forward with a vicious smile, her fingers curling around the hilt of a hidden sword. She had been waiting for this precise moment to strike down the king. But she wasn''t the only one with such ambitions.


    Superbia had been watching Aether closely. He moved with lightning speed when he detected the king''s vulnerability. His hand sliced through the air, conjuring a gleaming sword from nothingness. Without hesitation, he drove the blade deep into Aether''s heart, the sound of metal piercing flesh echoing through the hall.


    ¡°Finally, you damned bastard!¡± Superbia''s voice rang out, a maniacal edge to his laughter. ¡°I''ve waited ages for this moment. With you dead, I will seize the throne and become the new king!¡± His eyes blazed triumphantly as he twisted the sword, ensuring the fatal blow.


    Aether''s body convulsed, his strength ebbing away as he struggled to breathe. The court watched in horrified silence, the weight of betrayal heavy in the air. The once-mighty king crumpled to the floor, his lifeblood pooling around him as Superbia stood over him, reveling in his victory.


    Chaos erupted in the room. Ira, the most loyal to the king, stood frozen in shock for a split second before his rage took over. His Authority of Corruption flared, ready to annihilate the traitor. Luxuria''s Authority of Mind shimmered as she prepared to manipulate the council members, and Invidia screamed in fear as their Authority of Madness began to ripple through the air on accident, adding to the turmoil.


    A singularity erupted as the three authorities activated simultaneously, their immense powers clashing and fusing in a blinding explosion. The resulting shockwave hurled each council member to the corners of the grand chamber, their bodies slamming against the ornate walls with bone-crunching force. Groans of pain filled the air as they struggled to move, each one grievously injured.


    Avaritia slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and a pounding headache clouded his thoughts. Struggling to focus, he pushed himself up on trembling arms. As his vision cleared, he looked up to see Superbia towering over him.


    ¡°Goodnight, you damned, filthy blood,¡± Superbia sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. With a swift, merciless motion, he raised his sword and brought it down in a lethal arc.


    The blade gleamed in the dim light for a brief, frozen moment before it sliced cleanly through Avaritia''s neck. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as Avaritia''s head tumbled to the floor, his eyes wide with shock. Superbia stood over the lifeless body, his expression cold and triumphant, the silence of the chamber broken only by the dripping of blood from his blade.


    ¡°There we have it, the foolish king and his bastard of a son are dead,¡± Superbia announced to the meeting room as he picked up the king''s crown, his voice echoing with a chilling finality.


    Ira picked herself up, staring at the two corpses, Aether, her beloved king, and Avaritia, the young master she had sworn to protect. An indescribable rage consumed her, the very mana in the air crying out as her hair turned white as snow, a manifestation of the raging blizzard within her soul. Her crimson eyes glowed a bright red, the same color she was prepared to spill across the ground. She held her blade and dragged her hand across its spine, coating it in lightning, which then turned pitch black. A blackened, sinister lightning consumed it as she charged toward Superbia, her fury a palpable force. At the moment she had activated four of her abilities at once, berserker, super speed, lightning, and finally her Authority of corruption.


    ¡°Once I kill you, there won''t be anyone who would dare oppose me,¡± Superbia said confidently.


    Despite his words, he couldn''t react or activate an ability as Ira swiftly sliced off his arm. He groaned in pain as his severed limb fell to the ground, blood pooling at his feet. Desperation and anger contorted his face as he quickly activated his ability, causing swords to rain from the sky.


    ¡°Really, Superbia? Is that the best you''ve got? Your feeble power mimicry won''t save you,¡± Ira said wildly, launching the same wave of swords back at him, her voice a twisted mix of rage and derision.


    The swords clashed midair, a cacophony of metal against metal, sparks flying in every direction. Superbia''s eyes widened in disbelief as Ira''s strength and speed overwhelmed him. The blackened lightning crackled around her, an extension of her unyielding wrath. She moved with blinding speed, her berserker mode enhancing her every movement, her attacks relentless and precise.


    Superbia stumbled back, his confidence wavering as he realized the extent of Ira''s power. His pride had blinded him to her true capabilities, and now he was paying the price. Ira''s sword slashed through the air, each strike pushing him further back, his defenses crumbling under her onslaught.


    ¡°You underestimated me, Superbia,¡± Ira growled, her voice seething with fury. ¡°And now, you''ll pay with your life.¡±


    With a final, devastating blow, Ira''s sword plunged into Superbia''s chest, the black lightning surging through his body. His eyes widened in shock and pain as the life drained from him, yet despite this, Superbia smiled viciously.


    ¡°I fully recognize you are stronger than me, however only a fool relies solely on strength in a battle,¡± Superbia yelled.


    An intense rupture of mana was emitted from Superbia, as he grasped onto Ira''s blackened blade, staring directly at her with crazed eyes.


    ¡°We¡¯ll meet again, and when we do, I''ll make sure you''ll feel the same pain I currently do. Oh, Authority of Time engulf all of these worthless bastards,¡± Superbia proclaimed.


    Ira attempted to pull her blade from his chest, but Superbia held on with every ounce of strength he had as his body emitted an intense azure aura. The Aura generated by Superbia¡¯s Authority of Time began to mix with the blackened aura of Ira¡¯s Authority of Corruption.


    ¡°What are you plotting, you bastard,¡± Ira yelled as she attempted to pull her sword away.


    Superbia didn''t say a thing, but simply laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the ruined chamber. Ira''s grip on her sword tightened as her rage intensified. However then, she let go of her sword, and with a swift motion, created another one. This blade, while not imbued with the blackened lightning, would be sufficient to decapitate him, she thought. She swung the sword, and it bit into his neck, but as the blade sliced partway through, she dropped it, screaming out in agony as she felt the same injury form on her own neck. Superbia''s final trump card had been his ability, reflection.


    At that moment, the intense auras fully fused, creating a singularity within Superbia¡¯s body. A shockwave erupted, spreading throughout the Abyss. The walls of the chamber shook violently, and a blinding light enveloped everything. Every inhabitant of the Abyss, including Superbia, vanished completely, their forms disintegrating into a blackened light.


    In the last moment before vanishing, Superbia''s lips curled into a confident smile. ¡°You may have defeated me,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the explosion, ¡°but you cannot destroy what I have set in motion.¡±


    As the light consumed him, Ira fell to her knees, clutching her neck. The pain was unbearable, her vision blurred, and her strength waned. The surrounding room dissolved into white, and she felt herself being pulled into the void. Her last thoughts were of Aether and Avaritia, of the lives she had failed to protect. Tears mingled with the blood on her face as she whispered, ¡°I will avenge you.¡±


    The chamber, once filled with the grandeur and authority of the council, was now empty, a void of silence and darkness. The shockwave continued to ripple through the Abyss, reaching every corner of the realm. Structures crumbled, and the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend under the force of the explosion.


    Outside the castle, the landscape of the Abyss changed dramatically. Rivers of lava cooled and solidified, towering spires crumbled into dust, and the once vibrant skies turned an eerie shade of gray. The inhabitants, caught in the shockwave, had disappeared, their existence erased in an instant. The once bustling and chaotic world of the Abyss was now a desolate and barren wasteland.


    In the aftermath, a profound silence fell over the Abyss. The council, the king, and the inhabitants were gone, leaving behind an empty shell of what once was. The winds howled mournfully through the deserted corridors of the castle, and the tapestries and banners, now tattered and scorched, swayed gently in the ghostly breeze.


    All that remained in the shattered chamber were two lifeless bodies. King Aether and his son, Avaritia. Their forms lay motionless amidst the debris, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. The grandeur and authority that once filled the room had been reduced to an empty shell of its former self.


    King Aether, who had ruled with wisdom and strength, now lay still, his once commanding presence extinguished. His crown, which had symbolized his power and responsibility, was stolen by Superbia, a silent testament to the violent end of his reign. His face, even in death, retained a hint of the regal composure that had marked his leadership, a poignant reminder of the legacy he had hoped to leave behind.


    Avaritia, the young master, lay lifeless beside his father. His expression, frozen in shock and pain, reflected the abrupt and brutal end of his journey. Blood had sprayed from his severed neck, pooling around him and mingling with the dust and rubble that littered the grand chamber. The teddy bear he had clung to for comfort, worn and stitched with care, lay nearby. Unlike its owner, the bear''s head was still attached, its small tag bearing the words, ¡°Timere Futura.¡±


    Amidst the silence, the door creaked open as a figure stepped through. Glowing green fireflies followed her, casting an ethereal glow that made her appear otherworldly. Her long white hair was messy as if it had never been brushed, yet it held a wild, captivating beauty. Her eyes, glowing with an even more intense green than the fireflies, surveyed the scene with an unsettling calm. She wore a flowing white sundress that moved with each step and a white straw hat perched atop her head, completing her ethereal ensemble. She bent down and picked up Avaritia¡¯s severed head, her movements deliberate and unhurried.


    ¡°How unfortunate. I even left you that teddy bear as a reminder that this would happen, and you still ended up like this,¡± the woman sighed, her voice carrying a blend of disappointment and resignation.


    She glanced over at the teddy bear, its small tag still saying the words, ¡°Timere Futura.¡± The message was clear, fear the future. Just like the teddy bear, Avaritia¡¯s head had been cut off.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I planned for this. You have to live, after all. Much like your teddy bear, I''ll stitch your head back on and rebuild you,¡± she said cheerfully, an eerie contrast to the macabre scene.


    A green glow emanated from her, filling the room with an otherworldly light. A glowing green door materialized in front of her. She held Avaritia¡¯s severed head out in front of her as the door swung open.


    ¡°Good luck. You better win. I''m positive I chose the best candidate. You won''t remember this, but my name is Eden,¡± Eden said, her tone both encouraging and ominous. With that, she threw his head through the door.


    In another place, a young boy suddenly awoke, finding himself in a dumpster. He had orange hair streaked with black and eyes filled with the same vibrant orange color. He wore a white button-up shirt and jeans, with white socks and black shoes, both riddled with holes. A necklace with a key around it hung from his neck, yet for some reason, he couldn¡¯t see or acknowledge it. As he stood up, he felt a strange sensation in the right corner of his forehead and noticed a keyhole there.


    The boy couldn¡¯t remember anything, not where he was, how he had ended up in the dumpster, his parents, nothing but his name: Maxwell Lumiar. He jumped out of the dumpster, his eyes wide with wonder as he spotted a large electronic billboard. He had never seen anything so fascinating before. The numbers at the bottom of the billboard meant nothing to him, though they displayed the date: August 27th, and the time, eight o¡¯clock. Miles away, in the distant town of Applecrest, a young girl¡¯s life was in danger at this very moment.

 Chapter 5-Devil Born in Pain

    Maxwell awoke, his head spinning and his body aching from the cramped, uncomfortable position he had been in. His first conscious sensation was the overwhelming stench of rot and decay, a pungent odor that seemed to cling to his skin and clothes. As he forced his eyes open, the dim light filtering into the dumpster revealed a grimy, foul-smelling world of discarded refuse and filth. He grimaced, pushing himself up with trembling hands, fingers sinking into the slimy, unyielding grime coating the edges of the dumpster.


    He stumbled as he climbed out, the bright lights of the bustling city assaulting his senses. Neon signs flickered and glowed, casting garish colors across the streets. Cars zoomed by, their headlights cutting through the night, and people hurried along the sidewalks, oblivious to his plight. The sounds of the city, honking horns, distant sirens, and the murmur of conversations were overwhelming, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the dumpster.


    Maxwell looked around, disoriented, and bewildered. None of this was familiar. The towering buildings, the city''s frenetic energy, the constant movement, and the noise were all alien to him. He clutched his head, trying to remember, but his mind was a blank slate. His memories were locked away, inaccessible, leaving him adrift in an unfamiliar world. Panic began to set in, but he fought it down, focusing on the here and now. He had to figure out where he was, and more importantly, who he was.


    A sharp pain burned through his mind as he recalled a name: Maxwell Lumiar. He looked upwards and saw an electronic sign, displaying the time as eight o¡¯clock on August 27th. Yet, this date didn''t mean a thing to him; they were just symbols he couldn''t understand. Maxwell walked through the city aimlessly, unsure of what to do. He saw a cold puddle on the ground and witnessed his reflection for what he believed to be the first time.


    He looked around twelve years old, with orange hair streaked with black and eyes filled with the same vibrant orange color. He wore a white button-up shirt and jeans, with white socks and black shoes, both riddled with holes. A necklace with a key around it hung from his neck, yet for some reason, he couldn¡¯t see or acknowledge it. As he stood up, he felt a strange sensation in the right corner of his forehead and noticed a keyhole.


    ¡°What is this,¡± Maxwell murmured as he placed his fingers against the keyhole, but he wasn''t sure of what to do with it.


    He wandered through the streets, each step feeling more uncertain than the last. As he passed by, a small restaurant caught his eye. A sign above it read, ¡°Best chili in the entirety of Starlight Haven, the greatest city in the U.S.¡± To Maxwell, these were random symbols and gibberish that meant nothing to him. His nose twitched at the smell wafting from the restaurant, and his stomach growled in pain. Driven by hunger, he walked inside aimlessly.


    ¡°Excuse me, are you lost? Where are your parents?¡± a young waitress asked, her voice tinged with concern.


    Maxwell looked at her blankly, not understanding the words she was saying. The waitress''s face became more distressed as she took in the boy''s disheveled appearance and the horrid condition he was in.


    ¡°Are you hungry?¡± she asked gently, gesturing toward a booth. ¡°Here, sit down, and I¡¯ll get you something to eat.¡±


    Maxwell followed her lead, sitting down at the booth. The warmth of the restaurant was a stark contrast to the cold, harsh world outside. He watched the waitress disappear into the kitchen, her kind demeanor a boon to his confused and anxious mind. Moments later, she returned with a steaming bowl of chili, placing it in front of him.


    ¡°Eat up,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°This will make you feel better.¡±


    Maxwell stared at the bowl, the rich aroma making his mouth water. He picked up the spoon and took a hesitant bite. His movements with the spoon were mechanical, similar to that of a toddler. The flavors exploded on his tongue, a comforting warmth spreading through him. For the first time since he had woken up, a sense of calm washed over him. He continued to eat the chili, ignoring the slight burning sensation on his tongue from the heat.


    The waitress came back and gave Maxwell a glass of water. Instantly, he grabbed the glass and drank the entire contents in moments, slightly choking as he gulped it down. After a bit of time, he finished the entire bowl of chili and fell asleep on the table, a small smile appearing across his face as he did.


    As Maxwell slept and the restaurant began to close, the waitress went to speak with her boss about what should be done with him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what we should do. He¡¯s most likely homeless. His clothes are a mess, and the way he ate the food was as if he hadn¡¯t eaten in years,¡± the waitress said.


    ¡°Let him stay here for the night,¡± the older boss said. ¡°We can turn him into the cops in the morning to see if he has any parents who are looking for him.¡±


    Night began to fall, and the waitress decided to stay at the restaurant to watch over Maxwell.


    As she had fallen asleep herself, she suddenly heard a window break. Two men opened the door, unlocking it through the hole in the window. They both wore black suits, one had red hair, and the other had green hair.


    The waitress grabbed the now-awake Maxwell, and they hid under the table together, their breaths shallow and filled with terror.


    ¡°That is a really bad hiding spot,¡± Suit A said coldly. ¡°Come out from under there.¡±


    Maxwell''s heart raced as the waitress tried to comfort him. Her grip on his arm was firm, a futile attempt to reassure him, but her fear was palpable, radiating from her trembling form.


    ¡°Listen,¡± she whispered to Maxwell, her voice trembling, ¡°stay quiet, and don''t move.¡±


    The ominous footsteps of Suit A and Suit B echoed through the empty restaurant, growing louder with each passing second. The red-haired man, Suit A, crouched down to peer under the table, his eyes cold and calculating.


    ¡°There you are,¡± he said with a sneer. ¡°Come on out, kid. We don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡±


    Maxwell shook his head, clutching the waitress tighter. She tried to shield him with her body, her eyes filled with a mix of defiance and fear.


    ¡°Leave him alone!¡± she shouted. ¡°He¡¯s just a child!¡±


    Suit B, the green-haired man, stepped forward, his face devoid of emotion. ¡°We¡¯re not here to negotiate. Hand him over.¡±


    Before Maxwell could react, Suit A reached under the table and grabbed his arm, yanking him out with brutal force. The waitress screamed, trying to pull Maxwell back, but Suit B intervened, holding her back with a vice-like grip.


    ¡°Let him go!¡± she cried, struggling against Suit B¡¯s hold.


    ¡°Just kill her. We can frame this as a break-in,¡± Suit A ordered, his voice devoid of any humanity.


    The waitress''s scream pierced the air as Suit B held a knife to her throat. In one swift, horrifying motion, the blade sliced across her flesh, a crimson line appearing almost instantly. Blood poured out, staining the floor as Suit B let her drop to the ground. Her skin turned pale, her eyes wide with shock and pain, as life slipped away from her body.


    Maxwell could only watch in horror, paralyzed by fear and grief, as the waitress''s final breath left her lips. The world around him seemed to slow, the reality of the brutal scene searing itself into his memory.


    ¡°Why must we get all the difficult missions? Why does the boss even want this kid anyway? All the materials going to the beta facility are just random homeless people. What¡¯s so special about this one?¡± Suit B questioned.


    ¡°Apparently, the Bookkeeper requested him. Just go and rob the cash register; this looks like a simple break-in. Got it?¡± Suit A ordered.


    Suit B grabbed all the money in the cash register and stuffed it into his pocket as they began to leave. Suit A held Maxwell in his arms while he attempted to break free. Maxwell clawed and bit the man, but to no noticeable effect.


    Frustrated, Suit A punched Maxwell in the face, causing him to pass out. He then threw the unconscious boy over his shoulder as they left the restaurant, walking toward the black van they had arrived in. The once peaceful restaurant now stood in eerie silence, with only the distant hum of city life in the background.


    A few hours later, Maxwell woke up. His hands were bound together, and a blindfold covered his eyes. He felt himself moving, but had no idea where he was. It was cold, and a bump would jolt him every so often, causing him to thrash around. The van seemed empty, leaving Maxwell with his fears, unsure of where he was going or why he had been taken. He struggled desperately against his bindings, but it was futile.


    ¡°Let me out! Let me out!¡± Maxwell screamed, his voice filled with desperation. Yet, the words he spoke were unintelligible to human ears.


    ¡°What¡¯s that brat yelling about?¡± Suit B muttered, clearly annoyed.


    ¡°Ignore it. We''re almost there. They always scream meaningless crap,¡± Suit A responded indifferently.


    ¡°I want to go home.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I remember my home?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I know who I am?¡±


    ¡°Why does my head hurt so much?¡±


    ¡°Why did they take me?¡±


    ¡°Why am I crying?¡±


    His thoughts cascaded through his mind like a broken dam, drowning him in a flood of hopelessness. Tears soaked his blindfold, and the same question echoed in his mind. Why? Every question he could think of began with ¡°Why?¡± and none had answers.


    The more he pondered, the more intense the throbbing in his head became. Suddenly, his eyes began to glow with a searing, bright orange light. A tempest of pure aura erupted from his body, filling the air with crackling intensity. The aura swirled in a maelstrom of colors, each vying for dominance before settling into a dynamic, uneasy harmony.


    A spastic yellow streaked through the chaos, vibrating with frenetic energy. A darker aura, black laced with tendrils of orange lightning, exuded authority and power. An indigo shade flickered about nervously, as if trying to escape the turmoil. Another aura, black with green lightning, pulsed gently, radiating a serene, nurturing presence. Intriguingly, an aura black as night with purple runes floated within it, whispering secrets of ancient knowledge. A calming blue aura flowed smoothly, bringing peace amidst the chaos. Lastly, a vicious red aura roared through the mix, fierce and unyielding.


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    These auras clashed and intertwined, their energies struggling before ultimately deciding to coexist in a vibrant, dynamic equilibrium. The storm of colors illuminated the night, casting strange, shifting shadows around Maxwell as he stood, transformed and empowered, at the epicenter of this extraordinary display.


    ¡°What the hell is this,¡± Suit A looked in fear.


    The force of the aura storm overwhelmed them, causing the van to crash violently. The two men stumbled out, their heads covered in blood as they assessed the damage. Maxwell emerged as well, his aura burning away the restraints with its sheer density and power. Blood poured from Maxwell''s head, only to be quickly healed by the same incredible energy that now coursed through him.


    Maxwell glared at the two men with a mixture of determination and hatred, his aura reflecting his rage. The sheer intensity of his aura caused all other forms of aura to wane and fade, overwhelmed by its raw power. Anyone awakened within a fifty-mile radius could feel the crushing pressure, though its source remained obscured by its dense force. The abilities of all Awakened in the vicinity were nullified as the aura swirled around like a deadly typhoon.


    The two suited men tried in vain to activate their abilities, but under such oppressive conditions, even a sliver of aura could not be gathered. The typhoon of energy gradually subsided, drawing back to its epicenter and slowly fading away. The shock of the display lingered in the eyes of those who had witnessed it.


    A single word resonated in Maxwell''s mind as his aura shifted to a glowing yellow, hypercognition. Fueled by a searing focus, Maxwell charged at the men, his eyes burning with fury. As the two men scrambled to react, Suit B released a flurry of long purple chains from his hand in an attempt to ensnare Maxwell. To Maxwell, the attack seemed slow and ineffectual. With a swift leap, he soared through the air and landed directly in front of Suit B. Without hesitation, Maxwell bit into Suit B''s neck, who struggled frantically to dislodge him.


    ¡°Just shoot him and get him off of me! I don¡¯t care if we kill him!¡± Suit B shouted in desperation.


    Suit A complied, releasing a barrage of crimson bullets from his fingertips. The attack, however, proved to be a grave miscalculation. Maxwell kicked off Suit B''s chest, tearing away a chunk of flesh in his mouth, and deftly dodged the incoming bullets. The projectiles, fired with lethal intent, struck Suit B instead, killing him instantly.


    Maxwell grinned, spitting out the bloody chunk of Suit B''s flesh onto the ground and stamping it into the dirt as a cruel gesture of triumph.


    Suit A continued his assault, each bullet crackling with energy and driven by his mounting anger. The air sizzled with tension as glowing projectiles whizzed past, leaving trails of luminescent energy. Maxwell moved with fluid precision, effortlessly evading each shot. His movements were a blur of agility and grace, his eyes still blazing with an intense orange light.


    As Suit A''s frustration mounted, his shots became more erratic and rapid. Sensing the change, Maxwell began to close the distance between them, weaving through the hail of bullets with uncanny ease. His gaze remained fixed on his opponent, unwavering and determined.


    ¡°Stand still!¡± Suit A roared, his voice a mix of fury and desperation, unleashing a particularly powerful volley. But Maxwell was already in motion, darting to the side with a streak of motion.


    In a swift counterattack, Maxwell leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding another barrage, and landed just a few feet from Suit A. He could feel the raw energy emanating from his opponent with each bullet fired. Maxwell''s aura flared in response, a vibrant mix of swirling colors.


    He charged forward, using the momentum to close the gap. With a deft sidestep, he avoided another shot and delivered a powerful punch, his fist enveloped in his swirling aura. The impact sent Suit A staggering backward, momentarily stunned.


    ¡°How can a brat like you already be strengthening his body with aura?¡± Suit A shouted, struggling to regain his footing.


    Without hesitation, Maxwell pressed his advantage, delivering a rapid series of precise strikes, each blow infused with his aura¡¯s energy. Suit A attempted a desperate, wide swing, but Maxwell ducked smoothly, retaliating with a sharp kick to Suit A¡¯s midsection.


    As Suit A reeled from the blow, Maxwell saw his opportunity. Channeling his aura into a concentrated force, he thrust his hand forward, unleashing a focused blast of energy. The explosion of light and power sent Suit A crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.


    Maxwell stood over him, his aura still pulsating with vibrant energy. His breathing was steady, his voice calm but firm. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± he said. Despite the gravity of the situation, Suit A remained perplexed by Maxwell¡¯s foreign language.


    Suit A lay on the ground, his aura flickering weakly, a testament to the fierce battle and Maxwell¡¯s undeniable prowess.


    ¡°I knew I shouldn¡¯t have sent two worthless grunts to handle such an important task,¡± a new voice said, cutting through the aftermath.


    A man approached the scene, his presence both unsettling and commanding. He stood at 5¡ä 6¡å (1.68 m), his striking purple eyes gleaming with malevolence. A pristine lab coat draped over his black shirt, but the most notable aspect of his appearance was his hair¡ªcrimson tentacles wriggled from the top of his head, pulsating with excitement. His gaze was fixed on Maxwell, a malicious grin stretching across his face.


    ¡°Boss, please help! This kid¡­ I don''t know what he is, but it''s too much power,¡± Suit A yelled frantically, desperation evident in his voice.


    The Boss¡¯s grin widened. ¡°I know,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°That''s why I can''t let you report what has happened here today.¡± With a swift, almost supernatural movement, he appeared directly in front of Suit A.


    Maxwell barely registered the motion before the Boss bent down, his hand delving into the depths of his lab coat. Out of pure fear, Maxwell instinctively backed away, his eyes wide with terror as the man pulled out a severed hand. The macabre sight of the dismembered limb was horrifying enough, but it was the way the Boss handled it¡ªwith casual ease¡ªthat sent chills down Maxwell''s spine.


    The Boss pressed the severed hand''s pointer finger against Suit A¡¯s forehead. Suit A''s eyes widened in shock and terror, his body immediately beginning to decay. The process was rapid and grotesque, the decay spreading out from the point of contact, consuming his flesh and bones within seconds. His screams were cut short as his body disintegrated into dust, leaving nothing but a crumbling husk.


    The Boss examined the now useless severed hand with a look of mild disappointment. ¡°That used the last of this item''s charge,¡± he sighed, placing the hand back in his lab coat as if it were a mere inconvenience. ¡°I guess I''ll have to charge it later.¡±


    He turned his attention back to Maxwell, the malicious grin returning to his face. ¡°Now, what to do with you?¡± he mused, the wriggling tentacles atop his head reflecting his dark, twisted delight. Maxwell''s heart pounded in his chest as he stood frozen, the weight of his dire situation pressing down on him like a suffocating shroud.


    Maxwell''s eyes locked onto the lanyard around the man''s neck, catching a glimpse of a key card with the name ¡°Octavian Payne¡± printed on it. Though the name meant nothing to him, a surge of fear gripped his mind. His instincts screamed at him to act, and he rushed forward, aura swirling around his hand as he leaped to deliver a powerful punch aimed at Octavian''s face.


    In an instant, Octavian moved with lightning-fast reflexes, sidestepping Maxwell''s attack with a fluid grace. Maxwell''s fist met empty air, the momentum throwing him off balance for a split second. Before he could recover, Octavian''s hand lashed out, delivering a precise, devastating chop to the side of Maxwell''s neck.


    The impact was like a lightning strike. Maxwell''s vision blurred, his body instantly paralyzed by the expertly executed blow. He crumpled to the ground, the swirling aura around his hand dissipating into the air. Darkness began to encroach on the edges of his consciousness, his fear giving way to an unsettling calm as his senses faded.


    Octavian stood over Maxwell''s prone form, his expression unreadable, the surrounding aura flickering with controlled intensity. He glanced down at the key card hanging around his neck, then back at Maxwell, as if contemplating the significance of the encounter. The air was thick with tension, the echoes of their brief but intense clash hanging in the stillness of the room.


    As Maxwell''s world went dark, the last thing he saw was Octavian''s calm, composed face, the meaningless symbols that formed the word ¡°Octavian Payne¡± lingering in his mind like a haunting specter.


    Hours later, Maxwell awakened within a glass tube, suspended in a viscous green liquid that restricted his movements. The fluid was cool and clammy against his skin, making his every breath feel heavy and labored. His eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus through the hazy greenish tint that surrounded him. Outside the tube, a dimly lit laboratory bustled with activity. Cold, clinical light bathed the room, reflecting off the sleek, metallic surfaces and the array of complex machinery that lined the walls.


    Scientists in white lab coats moved with precision, their faces obscured by masks and goggles. Their movements were methodical, each one absorbed in their tasks as they monitored various screens and adjusted controls on the machinery. The air was thick with an eerie silence, punctuated only by the occasional beeping of monitors and the hum of equipment.


    Maxwell''s gaze drifted to the other glass tubes scattered throughout the room. They stood in neat rows, each one containing a different occupant. Some were humans like him, their expressions serene, as if caught in a deep sleep. Others, however, were grotesque, deformed monsters, twisted and misshapen figures that bore only faint resemblances to their once-human forms. One had multiple arms sprouting from its torso, each ending in claw-like appendages. Another had a distorted face, with eyes that glowed a sickly yellow and teeth that jutted out at unnatural angles.


    Despite their monstrous appearances, there were remnants of humanity in each of them¡ªan eye that looked too human, a hand that seemed almost normal, or a mouth that, when closed, resembled that of a person. These fragments were haunting reminders of what they once were, adding a layer of tragic horror to their current state.


    Suddenly, one of the scientists approached his tube, clipboard in hand. She peered at him through the glass, her eyes cold and analytical. She made a note on her clipboard and turned to speak with a colleague, their voices were muffled, but it was clear they were discussing him.


    ¡°Are you sure we should go ahead with the experiment on this one, it was a special request from the bookkeeper and our success rate has only been that of 5%,¡± The women said worried.


    ¡°It''s the boss''s orders, he has a backup plan he has been working on if it fails,¡± The colleague reassured.


    ¡°The ¡°Cinderella¡± formula, right? That hasn''t had a single success yet either, are sure he perfected the formula this time?¡± The woman questioned.


    ¡°He¡¯ll kill us if we don''t do our jobs, so just do it,¡± The colleague ordered.


    ¡°Alright, but I still find this odd, why did the boss request we use this special formula, we''ve never tested it out yet?¡± The Woman asked.


    ¡°Apparently it''s orders from the very top, the leader A.E.G.I.S¡¯s mysterious council himself,¡± The colleague gossiped.


    ¡°Yeah sure, no way the big boss would be that interested, let''s get this over with,¡± The woman said


    The woman pulled out a small vial, its glass surface gleaming under the dim light. Inside, a viscous red liquid swirled slowly, its consistency thick and syrupy, like blood. Suspended within the crimson fluid was a delicate, pristine feather, its white purity starkly contrasting against the vivid red. The feather drifted lazily, caught in an almost hypnotic dance as the liquid gently ebbed and flowed around it, creating a mesmerizing and eerie display.


    The woman inserted the vial into a complex machine connected to Maxwell''s test tube, and as the red liquid flowed into the chamber, the green fluid around him began to change, turning a deep, ominous crimson. Maxwell''s body started to convulse, a sharp pain coursing through him as the transformation began.


    At first, it seemed like everything was progressing smoothly. Large, pristine white wings unfurled from his back, their feathers shimmering with an ethereal glow. The wings were magnificent, almost angelic, spanning wide and powerful. But soon, the transformation took a dark turn.


    Maxwell''s body twisted and contorted painfully, bones cracking and elongating. His skin took on a sickly gray hue, veins bulging and pulsing with the crimson liquid that now surrounded him. His once human eyes morphed into glowing orbs of fiery red, devoid of any semblance of humanity. His mouth elongated into a grotesque snout filled with rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth, each one dripping with a viscous, dark saliva.


    His hands and feet mutated into massive, clawed appendages, fingers, and toes extending into talons capable of rending flesh and bone. Muscles bulged unnaturally beneath his skin, creating an uneven, monstrous physique. His spine jutted out, forming a series of sharp, bony ridges down his back, and his chest expanded, giving him an imposing, hulking appearance.


    The once beautiful wings now appeared more sinister, as dark veins marred their white purity, pulsating with each beat of his corrupted heart. His body was a horrifying amalgamation of angelic and monstrous traits, creating a nightmarish creature that radiated both power and malevolence.


    Maxwell''s transformation complete, he floated there in the crimson liquid, a grotesque parody of his former self, a terrifying blend of beauty and horror, the sheer pain he had experienced caused him to pass out. The two scientists panicked, watching the procedure fail as Octavian walked by.


    ¡°Throw him into the pit with thirty others. If he survives, I''ll use the Cinderella on him. The Bookkeeper has ensured this formula will work. That is an order, hurry up,¡± Octavian commanded, his voice icy and authoritative.


    The woman nodded briskly and pressed a button on the machine. A low rumble echoed through the room as a hatch beneath Maxwell¡¯s glass tube slowly opened. The machinery groaned as the floor beneath him gave way, and he plummeted downward, the crimson fluid still clinging to his monstrous form.

 Chapter 6-Boogeyman

    The monsterized Maxwell awoke, his senses reeling as he took in his new surroundings. He found himself in a circular, metallic fighting arena, the walls lined with reinforced glass panels. Behind these panels, various men and women in lab coats observed with detached curiosity, their expressions obscured by the reflective glare of the harsh overhead lights.


    The ground beneath Maxwell¡¯s feet was a gritty mixture of sand, small chunks of bones, and dark stains of dried blood, a grim testament to the countless battles that had taken place here. As he glanced upwards, he noticed a large, gaping hole in the ceiling, its perimeter surrounded by a grid of glowing lasers that thwarted any chance of escape. The humming energy served as a constant reminder of his imprisonment.


    All around him, thirty other monsters swarmed the pit. Each was a grotesque fusion of human and beast, their features twisted by experimentation and transformation. If they were still human, their ages would have ranged from ten years old to around fifty years old. Some had elongated limbs and clawed hands, others bore scales or fur, and a few had additional eyes or mouths in places where they didn¡¯t belong. Their eyes, however, told the same story, trapped, desperate, and enraged.


    Maxwell''s new form ached with unfamiliar power, his large white wings twitching instinctively. His monstrous red eyes scanned the arena, quickly assessing the other creatures. Each seemed equally confused and aggressive, their movements erratic and filled with a primal, survival-driven intensity.


    Above, the scientists watched with keen interest, jotting down notes and discussing among themselves as they observed the unfolding chaos. Maxwell¡¯s monstrous instincts began to take over, heightening his awareness of the immediate danger. The air was thick with tension, a palpable energy that hinted at the imminent violence.


    A loud horn suddenly boomed from a speaker, its blare echoing ominously through the metallic arena. The monstrosities paused, their mutated forms twitching in agitation. A voice crackled through the speaker, cold and detached. ¡°Listen up, you freaks. One of you, and only one of you, will get to live. So go ahead and kill each other. The last beast standing will be given a cure to fix their deformities,¡± Octavian announced, his words dripping with cruel amusement.


    The arena erupted into chaos. The monsters, provoked by the loud noise and driven by desperation, began to tear each other apart with savage ferocity. Snarls, roars, and the sickening sounds of flesh being ripped filled the air. Blood sprayed and limbs flew as the battle for survival commenced.


    One creature, particularly vicious and determined, charged toward Maxwell. It appeared to have once been a thirty-year-old man, but now it was a grotesque abomination. Its black hair hung in matted clumps, and its eyes were fully blackened, voids of malice. A large, gaping mouth yawned where its stomach should have been, lined with jagged teeth. Its arms were elongated and sinewy, ending in sharp, claw-like fingers.


    As it rushed toward Maxwell, its long, slimy tongue shot out like a spear, aiming for his heart. Even in his monstrous form, Maxwell retained some semblance of his hypercognitive abilities. Time seemed to slow as he calculated the trajectory of the attack. With a fluid, almost graceful motion, he sidestepped the assault, the tongue whipping past him harmlessly.


    Maxwell''s instincts flared to life. He could feel the raw, unrestrained power coursing through his new form, urging him to fight. His wings spread wide, their tips brushing the walls of the arena, and he leaped into action. His clawed hands slashed through the air, aiming for his opponent''s vulnerable spots.


    The creature screeched, its blackened eyes widening in pain and surprise as Maxwell''s claws tore into its flesh. It retaliated with a wild swing of its elongated arm, but Maxwell ducked and rolled, coming up behind the beast. With a powerful flap of his wings, he launched himself forward, driving his claws into the creature''s back. The force of the attack sent the monstrosity sprawling to the ground, its blood pooling beneath it.


    Maxwell¡¯s senses were heightened, each movement calculated, each attack precise. He was not just a beast, he was a predator, a survivor. Around him, the other monsters continued their brutal skirmishes, but Maxwell¡¯s focus remained sharp. He knew that only by embracing the monstrous side of himself could he hope to survive this ordeal.


    ¡°He¡¯s doing quite well. If he succeeds, he¡¯ll be a valuable asset in eliminating the Awakened,¡± Octavian boasted to a female scientist.


    ¡°Yes, sir. As you say. What should I do with the other three hundred failed experiments?¡± the woman asked.


    ¡°Throw them into storage with the other failures. I¡¯ll tinker with them when I have the chance,¡± Octavian replied.


    The woman nodded and went to carry out his orders.


    ¡°Give me a good show. Show me why the Bookkeeper has taken an interest in you,¡± Octavian murmured, a sinister smile playing on his lips.


    Octavian continued to watch as the number of monstrosities dwindled to twenty-one. The chaotic arena was filled with the sounds of battle, screams, and the tearing of flesh. The air was thick with the stench of blood and fear. Maxwell, panting heavily and covered in grime, barely had a moment to catch his breath when a new threat emerged.


    A spider humanoid, its body a grotesque fusion of human and arachnid features, skittered towards him with terrifying speed. Its eyes were multifaceted, glinting malevolently in the harsh lights of the arena. Long, segmented limbs ending in razor-sharp claws moved with predatory grace, while its abdomen, swollen and pulsating, hinted at its lethal capabilities.


    Without warning, the spider hybrid lunged at Maxwell, its limbs a blur. Silk shot out from its abdomen, ensnaring Maxwell''s arms and legs in a sticky web. He struggled, but the silk was incredibly strong, binding him in place. The spider hybrid loomed over him, its fangs dripping with venom as it prepared to strike.


    ¡°A spider hybrid, who cares,¡± Octavian said nonchalantly from his vantage point above the arena, his voice amplified through a speaker. ¡°We already have one of those this year. Just hurry up and kill it, brat.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s mind raced as he fought against the webbing. Drawing on his hypercognition, he quickly analyzed the situation. The silk was strong, but not unbreakable. He needed to find the right leverage point. As the spider hybrid reared back, preparing to sink its fangs into him, Maxwell twisted his body with all his might, snapping the silk binding his left arm. In a fluid motion, he grabbed one of the spider''s legs and yanked hard, pulling it off balance.


    The spider hybrid screeched, a high-pitched, unnerving sound. Maxwell didn¡¯t waste a second. With his free hand, he conjured a blade of pure aura and slashed through the remaining webbing. As he freed himself, the spider hybrid recovered and lunged again, its fangs aiming for his throat. Maxwell ducked, narrowly avoiding the venomous bite, and countered with a powerful kick to its abdomen.


    The spider hybrid stumbled back, its multifaceted eyes narrowing in fury. It spun more silk, this time aiming to entangle Maxwell¡¯s neck. But Maxwell was ready. He dodged to the side and closed the distance between them in an instant. With a swift, precise movement, he drove his aura blade into the spider hybrid¡¯s thorax, cutting through its tough exoskeleton.


    The spider hybrid convulsed violently, its limbs flailing. Maxwell pressed his advantage, slashing again and again until the creature collapsed in a twitching heap. He stood over its body, panting, his eyes blazing with determination. The crowd of scientists and observers behind the glass walls watched in stunned silence.


    Octavian¡¯s voice broke the tension. ¡°Impressive, brat,¡± he said, a hint of genuine admiration creeping into his tone. ¡°But don¡¯t get too comfortable. There are still many more to go.¡±


    Maxwell took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next challenge. The arena was a nightmare, but he couldn¡¯t afford to falter. Not now, not ever. He had to survive. For himself, and for the faint hope of escaping this hellish place.


    Many of the remaining creatures were either injured or hiding, reluctant to engage in further battle. However, one monster stood out from the rest, driven by an insatiable hunger. It had been waiting as the battles continued, but now has chosen to hunt.


    This horror towered over seven feet tall, its skin an abyssal black that seemed to absorb the dim light. It had a single, large eye that glowed with a malevolent intensity, and a gaping mouth filled with rows of jagged teeth. Its limbs were long and muscular, ending in clawed hands that effortlessly grabbed creature after creature, lifting them to its maw, where they were devoured whole.


    In a short time, this monstrous entity had consumed five of the weaker creatures, growing more formidable with each kill. Its gaze locked onto Maxwell, who was still recovering from his previous skirmish. The creature¡¯s eye began to glow ominously, charging up a deadly beam.


    Maxwell''s hypercognition kicked in, alerting him to the imminent danger. He leaped to the side just as the beam was unleashed, a searing bolt of energy that narrowly missed him. However, the beam grazed his wing, causing intense pain as part of it was vaporized. A monster behind Maxwell wasn''t as fortunate, it was hit directly and instantly vaporized, leaving only a stone husk where its body had been. The energy from the beam had a petrifying effect, and Maxwell felt a part of his wing becoming rigid and heavy, a small portion turning to stone.


    ¡°Ooh that was the one that we fused with a cyclops, it''s quite a shame that one failed, it''s quite a useful ability,¡± Octavian chuckled to himself.


    Despite the pain and the growing weight on his wing, Maxwell¡¯s instincts kept him moving. He assessed his new opponent quickly, recognizing the threat posed by both its physical power and its deadly beam attack. The monster, undeterred, lumbered toward him, its massive form casting a shadow over the arena.


    Maxwell knew he had to act swiftly. He spread his wings, feeling the strain from the petrified section, and took to the air with a powerful flap. His claws gleamed in the dim light as he circled the giant, looking for an opening. The creature¡¯s single eye tracked him, glowing once more in preparation for another attack.


    With a sudden burst of speed, Maxwell dived toward the monster, aiming for its eye. The creature swung its long arms, trying to swat him out of the air, but Maxwell was too fast. He evaded the flailing limbs and closed the distance, his claws extended. Just as the eye began to glow brightly, Maxwell struck, driving his claws into the glowing orb with all his might.


    The monster let out a deafening roar, a sound that reverberated through the arena, as its eye exploded in a burst of dark, ichorous fluid. Blinded and enraged, it thrashed wildly, its limbs tearing through the sand and debris around it. It would scream in pain until it eventually collapsed and died. Maxwell retreated, flapping his wings to gain altitude, his eyes scanning for a new vantage point.


    At that moment, the pain in Maxwell''s wings became unbearable, and he plummeted to the ground. His wings crumpled beneath him, and he struggled to stand. The scent of blood and weakness drew the attention of the remaining monstrosities. Believing this was their chance to consume him, twelve creatures swarmed toward Maxwell, their grotesque forms converging with murderous intent.


    In an instant, the twelve attackers were swiftly cut in half. Maxwell''s vision cleared, revealing the lone figure standing among the remains of the fallen monsters. This creature had long, flowing crimson hair and piercing blue eyes. Its mouth was elongated, and small blades jutted from its body, glinting menacingly in the dim light. Yet, despite its fearsome appearance, there was no visible modification that could explain the lethal speed and precision with which it had dispatched the other monsters.


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    Octavian, watching from above, studied the creature closely. As he did, his eyes widened in fear as the monstrosity began to transform. The elongated mouth shrunk, and the face shifted to that of a young man, roughly eighteen years old. His eyes turned a bloody red, and his hair changed to a medium-length, blonde mane. His facial features were strikingly handsome, reminiscent of a movie star, and his clothing morphed from tattered rags into a maroon hoodie with fur trim, black pants, and dress shoes. The creature, now looking like an ordinary but exceptionally attractive young man, smiled and locked eyes with Octavian.


    Despite his human appearance, Octavian knew that a dangerous monster had infiltrated the facility. The fear in his eyes was palpable as he realized the true nature of the creature before him.


    ¡°Everyone with combat experience, hurry up and kill that thing, now!¡± Octavian ordered, leaping into the fighting pit himself.


    Five others followed, two men in suits, one in a lab coat, and two women in suits. The six of them formed a circle around the young man, who stood protectively over Maxwell.


    ¡°Oh my, everyone here to welcome me, that''s so nice,¡± the young man said ecstatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm.


    ¡°Be ready,¡± Octavian warned his team, his voice tense. ¡°That is a portion of the strongest known monster in the world, the Boogeyman.¡±


    The air in the arena grew tense as Octavian and his team prepared to face the young man, who, despite his human appearance, exuded an aura of immense danger. His bloody red eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and malice, and his smile broadened, revealing perfect teeth.


    Maxwell, still struggling to regain his strength, looked up at the young man standing over him. Something was unnerving about the calm confidence he radiated, a predator''s assurance in the face of prey.


    ¡°I didn''t come to fight, but this should be fun¡± the young man taunted, his voice a blend of menace and glee.


    Octavian clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. ¡°This is only one of its duplicates, besides its regeneration this fight shouldn''t be too bad,¡± Octavian reassured both his fellow fighters and himself.


    With a swift, synchronized motion, Octavian, and his team launched their attack. The young man moved with inhuman speed and grace, dodging and parrying their blows effortlessly. His movements were a blur, each strike precise and devastating.


    The lab coat-clad attacker lunged at him with a syringe filled with a green, glowing substance, aiming for the young man''s neck. The Boogeyman caught the attacker''s wrist in midair, twisted it with a sickening crunch, and drove the syringe into the attacker''s chest. The man convulsed and fell to the ground, his body twitching violently.


    The remaining five attackers circled warily, their confidence shaken. The young man''s smile never wavered. He spun around, delivering a powerful kick to one of the women, sending her crashing into the arena wall. She slumped to the ground, unconscious.


    Octavian pressed his attack, throwing a series of precise punches and kicks. The young man dodged with ease, his movements almost lazy. ¡°Is this the best you''ve got?¡± he taunted, deflecting a particularly aggressive strike and countering with a swift jab that sent Octavian staggering backward.


    Maxwell watched the fight with a mix of awe and horror. The Boogeyman was toying with them, his power and speed far beyond anything they had ever encountered. At that moment, Octavian activated his ability, his body beginning to glow with an intense blue aura. The energy crackled around him as he moved with blinding speed, becoming a blur as he rushed toward the creature.


    With a powerful punch, Octavian''s fist connected with the Boogeyman''s stomach, creating a shockwave that echoed through the arena. The impact left a gaping hole in the Boogeyman''s torso, and the force of the blow sent him crashing into the metallic wall, denting it with the sheer force of his collision.


    For a brief moment, there was silence. Maxwell, Octavian, and the remaining combatants watched as the Boogeyman lay still, the wound in his stomach a gruesome sight. But then, as if mocking their efforts, the wound began to close. The Boogeyman''s flesh knitted itself back together with a sickening, organic sound, and within seconds, he was fully healed. He stood up, dusting himself off, his expression one of mild annoyance rather than pain or fear.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± the Boogeyman said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°But you''ll have to do better than that.¡±


    Octavian''s eyes narrowed, his blue aura flaring brighter as he prepared for another attack. The remaining members of his team regrouped, their resolve hardening despite the apparent futility of their efforts. Maxwell, still recovering, watched with a newfound respect for Octavian''s power, but also with a growing sense of dread. The Boogeyman was unlike anything they had ever faced, a true nightmare brought to life.


    The Boogeyman moved first this time, his body blurring with speed as he closed the distance between himself and Octavian. No ability was activated, this movement was solely its raw power. Their fists met in a clash of power, the force of their blows sending shockwaves through the arena. The other combatants joined the fray, their attacks coordinated and relentless, but the Boogeyman danced around them with an eerie grace, evading their strikes and retaliating with lethal precision.


    Octavian, pushing his ability to its limits, managed to land several more hits, each one causing significant damage. But the Boogeyman''s regeneration was relentless, his body mending itself almost as quickly as it was damaged. Despite his calm demeanor, there was a cold fury in his eyes, a hint that he was beginning to take the fight more seriously.


    ¡°Wow, you are quite a powerful team, let''s fix that,¡± the Boogeyman said maliciously.


    His arms turned white, revealing they were composed of thousands of writhing maggots. With a flick of his wrists, the maggots launched from his arms like a swarm of living bullets, targeting the heads of every remaining agent, unconscious or dead, except for Octavian. The conscious agents screamed in agony as the maggots burrowed into their skin, their bodies convulsing violently.


    The transformation was grotesque and swift. The agents'' flesh bubbled and warped as the maggots consumed and replaced their tissues from the inside out. Their limbs elongated and contorted, their faces twisting into horrific parodies of the Boogeyman¡¯s visage. Blond hair sprouted from their scalps, and their eyes turned a chilling, bloody red. As their screams died down, they stood up, now identical to the Boogeyman, each wearing that same wicked, malevolent smile.


    The newly transformed Boogeymen turned their gaze toward Octavian, who stood in shocked silence. The five duplicates moved with eerie synchronization, their sinister smiles never wavering. The sight of his teammates, now turned into the very monster they had been fighting, filled Octavian with a mixture of horror and rage.


    Each of the Boogeymen chuckled softly, their voices blending into a haunting chorus. ¡°I now have a team of my own,¡± they taunted in unison.


    The original Boogeyman approached Octavian, his steps deliberate and menacing. He swiftly grabbed Octavian by the neck and lifted him into the air, the maggots that made up his hands nipping at Octavian''s flesh. Small holes began to bleed as the Boogeyman taunted him.


    ¡°You''re lucky. I was told not to kill anyone important. Though you do not have much value in my eyes, my boss wishes for you to continue to live¡­ for now,¡± the Boogeyman said coldly, his grip tightening.


    ¡°Who the hell is strong enough to order you around, and how the hell did you get here?¡± Octavian demanded, struggling to breathe.


    ¡°I hate pointless questions. Shouldn''t you just be happy that you''re going to live?¡± the Boogeyman replied, slamming Octavian into the ground with brutal force.


    Octavian gasped for air, pain radiating through his body. The Boogeyman continued, a malicious glint in his eyes. ¡°I''ll indulge in the answer to one of those questions. I placed my fragments in a few thousand homeless people around the country, and you fools kidnapped this one, allowing me to easily enter this place.¡±


    With a swift kick, the Boogeyman sent Octavian flying across the room. Octavian crashed into the wall, crumpling to the ground in agony. The Boogeyman then turned his attention to Maxwell, taking slow, methodical steps toward him. He stopped in front of Maxwell, dropping to one knee to look him directly in the eyes.


    ¡°Well, well, what do we have here?¡± the Boogeyman said, his voice dripping with mockery. ¡°So this is the miserable wretch my boss told me to investigate.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes widened with fear and confusion. The Boogeyman¡¯s presence was overwhelming, his aura suffocating. As the monster stared into Maxwell¡¯s eyes, a sense of dread filled the room, making it hard for Maxwell to even think straight. The Boogeyman¡¯s smile grew wider.


    ¡°You¡¯re different,¡± the Boogeyman continued, his tone almost curious. ¡°I can sense it. There¡¯s something special about you. Something¡­ valuable. I can see why everyone is so interested in you. The one who made this vessel of yours is quite special, someone divine.¡±


    The Boogeyman stood up, towering over Maxwell. ¡°And that¡¯s why you get to live¡­ for now. But don¡¯t get too comfortable. You¡¯ll be seeing a lot more of me.¡±


    Both the original and each of the Boogeymen clones suddenly transformed into millions of maggots, their bodies collapsing in on themselves. The writhing mass of maggots fell to the ground, creating a sickening, squirming carpet. The moment each maggot touched the ground, it swiftly disintegrated, leaving only a small puff of black smoke with each one.


    The room was left in eerie silence, the only remnants of the Boogeyman''s presence being the faint smell of decay and the lingering sense of dread. Maxwell''s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process what had just happened, the weight of the Boogeyman''s words pressing heavily on his mind. The other scientists and guards remained frozen in shock, their eyes darting around as if expecting the Boogeyman to reappear at any moment.


    Maxwell took a deep, shuddering breath, the reality of his situation sinking in. He knew now that his survival was not just a matter of escaping this place, but also a matter of understanding why he was so valuable and what the Boogeyman¡¯s interest in him truly meant.


    At that moment, the exhaustion Maxwell had experienced had caught up to him as he passed out. Octavian got up, his ribs were broken, and his neck was bleeding as he went to check on Maxwell.


    ¡°Hurry up get a healer here, also bring the Cinderella formula, finally should anyone leak what happened today to anyone else I''ll kill you myself,¡± Octavian threatened them all as they all frantically ran around to complete his orders.


    One of the female scientists approached Octavian, her steps measured and precise. She carried a sleek, black briefcase with polished silver latches that gleamed under the harsh laboratory lights. Her expression was a mix of apprehension and determination as she presented the briefcase to Octavian.


    With a click, Octavian opened the briefcase to reveal a carefully padded interior. Nestled within the foam was a syringe filled with a blue, translucent liquid that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. The liquid inside swirled gently, catching the light in a way that made it appear almost alive.


    The scientist¡¯s hands trembled slightly as she handed the briefcase over, her eyes flickering with a mix of hope and fear. ¡°This is the latest formula, sir,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°As you said, the Bookkeeper ensured its success.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s gaze hardened as he took the syringe, his fingers closing around it with a firm, almost possessive grip. The blue liquid inside seemed to react to his touch, pulsing faintly as if acknowledging its new owner. He lifted the syringe, examining it closely, the liquid reflecting in his cold, calculating eyes.


    ¡°This had better work,¡± Octavian muttered under his breath, his voice laced with both anticipation and a hint of unease. He turned his attention to the task at hand, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders.


    The female scientist took a step back, her eyes never leaving the syringe. She knew the importance of this moment and the potential consequences if the formula failed. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as Octavian prepared to use the mysterious blue liquid.


    With a decisive motion, Octavian swiftly grabbed Maxwell''s arm, his grip firm and steady. He inserted the syringe into Maxwell''s vein, the blue, translucent liquid flowing smoothly into his bloodstream. As the liquid entered his system, Maxwell''s body transformed. The changes were subtle yet profound, he reverted to the same childlike form he had been before, but with notable differences. The once majestic wings now appeared smaller, yet still carried an ethereal glow. Intersecting crimson halos shimmered around his neck.


    The scientist watched intently, her anxiety giving way to cautious hope as Maxwell''s features softened, his expression no longer clouded by the monstrous transformations he had endured. The atmosphere in the room shifted, a collective sigh of relief echoing silently among the onlookers.


    Octavian withdrew the syringe, his face filled with satisfaction. He studied Maxwell closely, assessing the effectiveness of the formula. The child before him bore the physical remnants of extraordinary abilities.


    ¡°Bring him to a room for the night, we can start training him tomorrow. Also, get me on a call with that damned Bookkeeper. I know he¡¯s going to charge a lot for this favor,¡± Octavian sighed, rubbing his temples.


    ¡°Sir, don''t forget that this child was brought here at his request. Most likely, our reward for this will be not having to pay for the working Cinderella formula,¡± the woman reminded him, her voice steady and calm.


    ¡°I hope not. His rewards can be worth a lot more if you have no debts to be paid,¡± Octavian complained, frustration evident in his tone.


    Later that night, Maxwell awoke in a small bedroom. It was modest but cozy, with a neatly made bed, a wooden closet, a small table and chair, and a bathroom that was through an additional room. The soft glow of a bedside lamp casts a warm light over the room, creating a sense of comfort and safety. It was at the very least better than the average college dorm room. On the table sat an envelope, a delicate white rose placed beside it, its petals pure and unblemished. Maxwell walked up to it and opened the letter.

 Chapter 7-New Beginning

    As Iris opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by an inky black void. The only light came from a swarm of glowing butterflies, each a different color, with various events flickering within their delicate wings. She marveled at the sight, trying to make sense of the scenes before her.


    The first butterfly, a vibrant green, depicted a world slowly consumed by thorns and monstrous plants ravaging the lands. A palpable sense of despair emanated from its wings. Next, a light blue butterfly displayed an ice age engulfing an entire continent, its wings radiating feelings of self-hatred. An orange butterfly followed, its wings showing flames burning across the world, ending in a large explosion, with a powerful sense of betrayal woven through its images.


    A light gray butterfly fluttered next, illustrating a massive war that consumed the world. Desperation permeated its wings, and something about it felt strangely familiar to Iris. The fifth butterfly, which was yellow, revealed a plague-ridden world where families suffered slowly. An incredible sense of loneliness seeped from its wings.


    Then came a dark purple butterfly, its wings filled with visions of zombie hordes overtaking a kingdom. Regret glowed with its deep purple hue. A golden butterfly followed, showing scenes of mass destruction and radiating immense anger. The next butterfly, black as night, depicted images of great beings being slain, causing the very world to change. A profound sense of grief could be felt from this one.


    The second-to-last butterfly was a deep crimson red, showing a fierce battle between brothers. The winner was unclear, but an overwhelming desire to protect pulsed from its wings. Finally, a multicolored butterfly fluttered into view. Within its wings, Iris saw fragments of each vision from the other butterflies, stitched together like a patchwork quilt. Determination emanated from this butterfly, along with that familiar feeling she couldn¡¯t quite place.


    As she watched the multicolored butterfly, Iris felt a strange connection, as if it held the key to understanding the chaos and emotions swirling around her. The visions seemed to call out to her, each butterfly a piece of a larger puzzle she was meant to solve.


    ¡°Images from a future that was never meant to be, but forced upon that miserable wretch, ?¡í????,¡± the man sighed, pausing for a moment. ¡°It looks like I¡¯m not allowed to give spoilers yet,¡± he said, as he stepped into the light illuminated by the butterflies.


    The man was 5¡¯ 8¡± (1.72 m) with white hair and pale skin. A mole under his right eye contrasted with his glowing golden eyes, and black circular glasses sat on his nose. He wore a black suit with a yellow tie, adorned with a butterfly brooch pinned to his suit. Lastly, he wore a pair of white gloves.


    ¡°You may call me Fate. We are currently within the domain of your mind. I found that this would be the most private place for us to meet,¡± Fate said, his voice smooth and calming.


    ¡°Why did you bring me here?¡± Iris questioned, her voice trembling with confusion and a touch of fear.


    ¡°This place is boring, no offense, but I''m going to change this a bit,¡± Fate said with a mischievous smile as he snapped his fingers.


    The inky black void transformed into a cozy jazz club. Floating instruments began to play the blues, their melodies weaving a soothing atmosphere. Fate gestured for Iris to take a seat as two plush couches appeared at either end of a small table. Various snacks materialized on the table, but when Iris reached for them, they disappeared like mirages.


    ¡°Please, sit,¡± Fate said, taking a seat himself. ¡°It''s best we hurry before you¡¯re woken up.¡±


    Iris hesitated before sitting down on the couch, her eyes never leaving Fate. The surreal nature of the situation left her wary, yet the ambiance of the jazz club offered an unexpected sense of calm.


    ¡°You have many questions, I¡¯m sure,¡± Fate said, leaning back and crossing his legs. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to provide the answers you seek, within the bounds of what I¡¯m allowed to reveal, of course.¡±


    Iris nodded, her mind racing with questions. The butterflies, the strange visions, and now this enigmatic man named Fate, it was all too much to comprehend at once. But amidst the chaos, a flicker of hope ignited within her. Perhaps, here in this strange yet comforting setting, she might begin to unravel the mysteries surrounding her.


    ¡°As for your first question, it''s as I said, I simply wish to speak to you and to congratulate you,¡± Fate said with a warm smile.


    ¡°Why are you congratulating me?¡± Iris questioned, her eyes filled with fear.


    ¡°That night you were destined to die, yet thanks to your own luck, a bit of my help, and that miserable wretch, I guess I''ll call him by his false identity, Nihil, for now, to avoid the spoiler filter anyway, you survived, for now,¡± Fate said energetically.


    Iris sat there with a blank expression, unsure of how to react to this information. She couldn''t speak or say a word; she simply sat there, frozen.


    ¡°I don''t mean to stress you out, but you aren''t safe yet. Your next ordeal will be very soon, so please prepare. I''ll meet with you once it is over. Goodbye,¡± Fate said, his tone shifting to a more serious note.


    ¡°Wait, don''t go,¡± Iris attempted to say, but Fate snapped his fingers, and she woke up.


    As Iris woke up, she looked around the room she found herself in. She sat up in a rather comfortable bed in a bedroom that was larger than her original one. A desk, a wardrobe, and even a TV could be found in the room. There were two doors, one to leave the room and one that led to a bathroom. It was much better than the crappy school dorm the author of this webnovel lived in during his time at college.


    The room exuded a sense of calm and safety, a stark contrast to the chaotic void she had just left. Iris took a deep breath, trying to process the strange encounter with Fate and the ominous warning he had given her. She knew she had to prepare for whatever was coming next, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of relief in the comfort of her new surroundings.


    That sense of comfort would quickly end as Iris would suddenly hear a banging sound coming from her door, as a familiar person would be knocking on it.


    ¡°Hey sorry about this but I overslept and forgot to wake you up¡­or set up your alarm clock, anywhere there are uniforms in there for you, put them on are get out here,¡± Wallace said.


    Iris quickly got changed into the uniform. It consisted of a sleek, dark navy shirt made from a durable yet comfortable fabric that allowed for easy movement. Along with black pants that were also durable and comfortable.


    The collar was high and snug, providing extra warmth and protection. On the left chest, an embroidered patch displayed the emblem of A.E.G.I.S, a stylized shield with a pair of wings, symbolizing strength and protection.


    The pants also had several pockets, for carrying essential items. Each pocket was sealed with a sturdy, easy-to-open Velcro flap


    To complete the uniform, Iris pulled on a pair of black, reinforced boots that reached just above her ankles, providing ample support and grip. Lastly, she donned a pair of black, fingerless gloves that allowed for a better grip while still protecting her hands.


    Iris left the room and saw Wallace leaning against the railing, sipping coffee from a white mug that said ¡°World''s Best Brother.¡± The third floor of the sprawling apartment complex stretched above her, with two more floors visible above her.


    Wallace chuckled as he looked at Iris. ¡°I forgot the trainees had to wear those tacky uniforms. It¡¯s been a while since I''ve been stuck here,¡± he said, taking another sip of coffee.


    ¡°Where exactly am I?¡± Iris questioned, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.


    ¡°This is A.E.G.I.S''s Alpha Facility. There are three others, but this is the nicest to be in. This facility solely deals in the training of Awakened. Since we ended up, waking up late, we won''t be able to get breakfast. I''ll make it up to you eventually,¡± Wallace apologized.


    ¡°Um¡­ alright, though I won''t deny I''m pretty hungry, so let''s hope lunch is good,¡± Iris said with a smile, following Wallace out of the apartment complex.


    They got into an elevator that brought them to the first floor. The elevator was sleek and modern, with a polished metal interior and a digital display showing their descent. As they walked through the facility, Iris observed the clean, efficient design of the hallways. The floors were polished, and the walls were lined with screens displaying various informational updates.


    Wallace led her through a series of corridors, each bustling with other trainees and staff members. Some were dressed in similar uniforms, while others wore more casual attire, indicating their different roles within the facility. The atmosphere was one of controlled activity, with people moving purposefully from one task to another.


    ¡°From now on, you¡¯ll be attending classes, and you''ll learn a variety of subjects from monster hunting to artifact usage and many others. You will also be expected to learn three other languages by the time you graduate, though it''s recommended you learn more. For example, I know English, French, German, Mandarin Chinese, Spanish, Russian¡­¡± Wallace continued to list languages, his voice droning on, as Iris felt herself getting bored.


    ¡°This is a lot to remember,¡± Iris complained, her mind already feeling overwhelmed.


    ¡°You won''t be expected to learn all of this just yet. Your first year will mainly just cover you trying to adjust to your ability,¡± Wallace explained, trying to reassure her.


    As they walked through the hallway, they came across various photos with large words atop them that said ¡°Valedictorian.¡± Wallace''s photo was prominently displayed among them.


    Wallace chuckled modestly. ¡°That was, a long time ago, I miss my graduating class, now it''s just me and Markus left,¡± Wallace said as his voice took on a sad tone.


    ¡°What happened to them?¡± Iris questioned.


    ¡°Envy,¡± Wallace, refusing to elaborate.


    The surrounding atmosphere took on a heavy tone as they arrived at the destination, as they did, Wallace quickly returned to his standard demeanor.


    ¡°This will be your main classroom, your teacher is one of the few people within this facility who is sane, so everything should work out well, lastly I''ll need you to wear this watch at all times,¡± Wallace instructed.


    Wallace took out a white watch with a small screen on it and slipped it onto Iris¡¯s wrist, Iris instantly began to touch the screen as she examined its various features.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see there''s a heart monitor app, an app that will give you directions to any room on this facility, a feature that lets you call your classmates, you can also send text¡­¡± Wallace once again began to drone on as Iris got bored.


    ¡°What astounding patience you seem to have, I¡¯m sure Mrs. Stone will be thrilled,¡± Wallace said sarcastically.


    ¡°How many classmates will I have?¡± Iris asked, interrupting Wallace¡¯s sarcasm.


    Wallace began to count on his fingers trying to remember them all, as he then said, ¡°In total, besides you, there will be six others, each with unique abilities much like yourself, they''re all rather interesting children, also if the blonde one gets made, I recommend you duck,¡± Wallace suggested as he brought Iris into the classroom.


    Iris entered the classroom and immediately took in her surroundings. The room had a familiar, almost comforting layout. Desks were arranged in neat rows, each equipped with the standard assortment of school supplies. At the front of the room stood a large blackboard, worn from years of use, with remnants of chalk dust clinging to its surface. A wooden table off to one side held a globe, slightly faded from time, and various educational tools, adding a touch of the ordinary to the extraordinary place she found herself in.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    There were six other students in the room, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts or quietly chatting among themselves. They glanced up as Iris entered, curiosity flickering in their eyes. The diversity among them was striking, different ages, backgrounds, and even hints of their unique abilities reflected in subtle ways, the surrounding air around one would be colder or, have a rather sharp gaze to them.


    The teacher stood at the front of the room, her presence commanding immediate respect. Mrs. Stone exuded an air of confidence and calm, with a gaze that seemed to assess each student with practiced ease. Her posture was straight and her demeanor unflappable, setting the tone for the class.


    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry for being late, I accidentally overslept,¡± Wallace said, his voice filled with genuine remorse as he stood at the classroom door.


    ¡°I won¡¯t complain, considering you managed to convince that stingy ba¡ª*ahem*, Jonathan, into giving me a raise,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, catching herself before slipping into an accidental swear. Her tone was a mix of gratitude and slight exasperation, clearly appreciative but also professional.


    ¡°Be careful, you don¡¯t want to lose to Markus in the running bet,¡± Wallace teased with a smile before stepping out of the room, leaving behind a faint echo of his light-hearted comment.


    Mrs. Stone turned her attention to Iris, her gaze softening as she greeted the new student. ¡°Good morning, Iris. Please, take a seat. We¡¯re just about to begin.¡±


    Iris felt a flutter of nerves mixed with excitement as she looked around the room. The classroom was bustling with the murmur of students settling in. The desks were arranged in neat rows, and Iris chose an empty seat near the middle. The desk¡¯s surface was cool to the touch, grounding her and helping to steady her racing thoughts.


    ¡°Now I would like each of you to introduce yourselves,¡± Mrs. Stone said, her voice cutting through the murmurs of anticipation. ¡°Say your name, your ability, and a fun fact about yourselves.¡±


    A young boy with short, tousled brown hair and caramel-colored skin eagerly raised his hand, his somber brown eyes twinkling with excitement. ¡°Hello everyone, it¡¯s so good to meet you all! My name is Jacob Forester. My ability is called Doll Manipulation; I can control and animate toys and dolls. Oh, and my fun fact is that I¡¯m really excited to be here!¡± Jacob finished with a bright, enthusiastic smile.


    The room stirred with a mix of nods and murmurs of acknowledgment.


    ¡°Yeah, there was no need for the fun fact,¡± Charles said from the back of the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure we could all guess that.


    Mrs. Stone gave Charles a pointed look but chose to address the situation calmly. ¡°You seem eager to speak. How about you go next, Charles?¡± she said, gesturing towards him.


    Charles, a boy with medium-length blonde hair that partially covered his right eye, stood up with an air of indifference. His piercing blue eyes swept across the room. ¡°Fine, but only to get this over with. I¡¯m Charles Wells. My ability is telekinesis, and my fun fact is that you can go ahead and die,¡± Charles said dismissively.


    Without warning, Charles extended his hand and a purple aura surrounded his desk. With a flick of his wrist, the desk was hurled across the room towards Mrs. Stone. The air crackled with the force of his telekinetic power, and the desk shot forward with frightening speed.


    Mia¡¯s eyes widened in alarm. With a swift, practiced motion, she summoned a barrier of shimmering water that materialized between the desk and Mrs. Stone. The desk collided with the barrier, splashing and dissipating into harmless droplets as Mia¡¯s protective shield absorbed the impact.


    Chaos erupted as students ducked for cover. Iris and several others scrambled to shield themselves from the debris, while Theo, a boy with a protective streak, clutched his sister tightly, trying to shield her from the falling fragments.


    ¡°Charles!¡± Mrs. Stone¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, as she straightened from behind the water barrier. Her expression was a mix of anger and stern resolve. ¡°This is not how we behave in this classroom. Such displays of aggression are unacceptable.¡±


    A violet stream of water erupted from Mrs. Stone¡¯s hands, forming a powerful current that lashed out toward Charles. The water surged with controlled precision, wrapping around him and effectively restraining his movements. Charles struggled against the watery bonds, attempting to use his telekinesis to hurl more objects, but the effort was visibly taxing, and his attempts became increasingly feeble.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with you later,¡± Mrs. Stone said, her voice weary but firm. ¡°Now, who would like to introduce themselves next?¡±


    The students, recovering from the commotion, shuffled back to their seats. The tension in the room had subsided, but an undercurrent of nervousness remained. A girl with short red hair and a single green eye raised her hand hesitantly. Her other eye was obscured by an eye patch, and her entire demeanor was marked by a noticeable shyness.


    ¡°Um¡­ I can¡¯t do this, Theo. You go first,¡± Celia said, her voice barely above a whisper as she hid partially behind her brother.


    Theo, the boy with matching short red hair and a single green eye, stood up. His eye patch covered the opposite eye as his sister¡¯s.


    ¡°My name is Theo Hill,¡± he began, his voice carrying a mix of confidence and protectiveness.


    ¡°My ability allows me to remove one of the five senses from another person. As for my fun fact, if anyone tries to pick on my sister, I¡¯ll beat them up,¡± Theo added, his gaze narrowing as he glanced sharply toward Charles.


    Charles, still bound by the violet restraints of water, managed to summon the strength for a petty act of defiance. With a sneer, he flicked an eraser at Theo, hitting him lightly on the head.


    ¡°Fine, that¡¯s my last one,¡± Charles muttered, his voice tinged with fatigue. ¡°I¡¯m tired anyway.¡±


    Mia, observing the interaction with a critical eye, decided it was time to release Charles from the watery bonds. With a subtle wave of her hand, the water dissipated, and Charles slumped back into his seat, grumbling softly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Celia, you can do this. I believe in you,¡± Theo said with a reassuring smile, offering his sister a comforting pat on the back.


    Celia took a deep breath, her face still flushed with nervousness. ¡°M-my name is¡­ my name is Celia Hill,¡± she stammered. ¡°My ability is called¡­ w-watcher. Um, it allows me to see anyone as long as I¡¯ve marked them beforehand. My¡­ my fun fact is that I¡ª¡± She trailed off, tears welling in her eyes as the pressure of the moment overwhelmed her. With a soft sob, she retreated back behind Theo, seeking solace in her brother¡¯s presence.


    Theo gently wrapped an arm around her, his eyes reflecting both concern and pride. ¡°You did your best, Celia,¡± he said softly.


    Mrs. Stone, observing the tender sibling moment, offered a warm and encouraging smile. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly alright, Celia. You did your best, and that¡¯s what matters. Now, let¡¯s continue. Who would like to go next?¡±


    Alice raised her hand timidly, stepping forward with a mixture of apprehension and resolve. She had striking crimson eyes and hair that was a unique blend of white and red. The glasses she wore were similar in style to Wallace¡¯s, lending her a scholarly appearance.


    ¡°Can I go next?¡± Alice asked softly.


    ¡°Of course, Alice,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, nodding in approval.


    ¡°My name is Alice West,¡± Alice began, her voice steady but soft. ¡°My ability is called the Authority of Reality. I¡¯m not fully sure what it does¡ª the nice doctor said I shouldn¡¯t use it.¡± She paused, adjusting her glasses nervously. ¡°My fun fact is that my favorite book is *The Wizard of Oz*.¡±


    A murmur of interest and curiosity rippled through the class as Alice spoke. Her mention of a mysterious ability and a favorite book seemed to intrigue her peers. Mrs. Stone, ever the professional, nodded encouragingly.


    ¡°Thank you for sharing, Alice. I¡¯m quite a big fan of that book as well,¡± Mrs. Stone said with a warm smile, genuinely pleased by the connection.


    As she turned her attention to the rest of the class, Mrs. Stone¡¯s gaze fell upon a student who had been sleeping through the entire session. The boy had medium-length cyan hair, piercing red eyes, and wore black square-framed glasses.


    Without hesitation, Mrs. Stone conjured a small ball of water between her fingertips and launched it with precision at the sleeping child, instantly rousing him from his slumber.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you would not sleep during my class,¡± Mrs. Stone said sternly, her tone carrying a hint of reprimand. ¡°I am aware that your parents work here, Xavier.¡±


    A somber mood spread among the students as the mention of Xavier¡¯s parents sparked a wave of envy and sadness. Many of them were reminded of their own loss, feeling a sense of jealousy towards Xavier, whose parents were still alive.


    ¡°Anyway, Xavier,¡± Mrs. Stone continued, her voice firm, ¡°Since you were not paying attention, I¡¯ll repeat myself. State your name, your ability, and a fun fact about yourself.¡±


    Xavier let out a resigned sigh as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ¡°My name is Xavier Walker,¡± he began, his tone indifferent. ¡°My ability is Cryokinesis.¡± With a flick of his wrist, he created a small, shimmering shard of ice as a demonstration before letting it dissipate. ¡°And my fun fact is that I want to go back to sleep.¡± He slouched back onto his desk, resting his head with a slight groan, clearly disinterested in the rest of the class.


    ¡°Alright, Iris, you¡¯re the last one left,¡± Mrs. Stone said, shifting her focus to Iris. ¡°Please introduce yourself.¡±


    Iris took a deep breath, standing tall despite her nerves. ¡°My name is Iris Blackwell,¡± she said clearly. ¡°My ability is Pyrokinesis, and my fun fact is that I also love to read. My favorite book happens to be *The Wizard of Oz*.¡±


    Jacob and Alice¡¯s eyes widened with excitement.


    ¡°Wait, so you can control fire?¡± Jacob exclaimed, his face lighting up with enthusiasm. ¡°That¡¯s so cool! Can I see a demonstration, please?¡±


    Iris hesitated, a sad look crossing her face. ¡°I¡¯d rather not use my ability right now,¡± she said softly.


    Jacob¡¯s excitement dimmed slightly, but he nodded understandingly. ¡°Oh¡­ okay. That¡¯s alright, I guess.¡±


    Alice, who had been listening intently, nervously raised her hand again. ¡°Um, Iris, would you like to be friends? Since we both like similar things.¡±


    Iris¡¯s face brightened at the offer, her earlier apprehension fading. ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± she said with a genuine smile. ¡°I¡¯d love to be friends.¡±


    The classroom¡¯s atmosphere shifted, as the students began to bond over their shared interests and experiences. The initial tension eased, replaced by a budding camaraderie among the young trainees.


    ¡°Alright everyone, settle down, please. You can all bond together when you head to the cafeteria. I do have a few things I''d like to explain to you all first,¡± Mrs. Stone said, her voice commanding attention as she grabbed a piece of chalk and approached the blackboard.


    She started drawing, her movements precise as she sketched out the A.E.G.I.S logo and acronym. ¡°My name is Mia Stone, but you can call me Mrs. Stone. As Charles and Xavier are quite familiar with, my ability is Hydrokinesis.¡± She briefly demonstrated by conjuring a small, swirling sphere of water from her fingertips, which she dismissed with a wave.


    ¡°Your primary objective here will be to train to become full-fledged members of A.E.G.I.S,¡± she continued. ¡°The acronym stands for Advance Eradication of Ghouls, Interstellars, and the Supernatural.¡± She underlined the acronym with a flourish and drew a detailed version of the A.E.G.I.S logo.


    ¡°What exactly will we be doing as agents of A.E.G.I.S?¡± Jacob asked, his curiosity evident.


    ¡°Excellent question,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, nodding approvingly. ¡°It is our mission to conceal the existence of any form of supernatural activity from the public. This includes rogue Awakened, monsters, ghosts, aliens, out-of-control artifacts, and various other dangers. We operate globally, though our resources have been stretched thin following a certain incident.¡± She drew a series of illustrations on the board, a ghoul, a monster, a ghost, an alien, and a mysterious artifact, each accompanied by a brief description.


    She then sketched a figure in a black suit with sunglasses, reminiscent of ¡°Men in Black,¡± to represent the covert nature of their work.


    ¡°Once a week, Wallace will perform stability tests on you to ensure there are no issues with your abilities. However, for Iris and Alice, these tests will be conducted twice a week. You will receive notifications on your watches when it''s time for these tests.¡± Mia drew a simple watch on the board, emphasizing the importance of keeping track of time.


    She then turned to a new section of the board and drew a crude but recognizable image of Wallace, his hair and glasses exaggerated for effect. Next to it, she sketched a library with a circle and lined through it. ¡°The library is off-limits to all of you. It¡¯s a rather dangerous place, and you are only allowed entry with an official agent or once you turn sixteen and are granted official proof of entry.¡±


    Mia¡¯s tone was serious but not unkind, conveying the gravity of the rules while maintaining an encouraging demeanor. ¡°Remember, this is a place of learning and growth. Follow the rules, work hard, and you''ll do just fine.¡±


    With that, she turned her attention back to the class, her expression softening slightly. ¡°Any more questions before we head to the cafeteria?¡±


    The students looked around, a mix of excitement and apprehension on their faces, ready to start their new journey at A.E.G.I.S.

 Chapter 8-Teamwork

    The class made their way to the cafeteria. It was a vast, bustling room filled with the hum of conversation and the clatter of trays. Trainees of all ages mingled with faculty members, creating a lively and energetic atmosphere. The ceiling was high, with large windows with a screen that gave the impression of the outside. Colorful banners representing different teams and achievements hung from the rafters, adding a sense of pride and history to the room.


    The aroma of various dishes wafted through the air, making Iris''s stomach growl in anticipation. The cafeteria was a gastronomic wonderland, with long buffet tables laden with an impressive array of food. There were steaming trays of pizza with every topping imaginable, fresh and vibrant salads, build-your-own taco stations, juicy burgers hot off the grill, and many more options to cater to every taste and preference. Each station was manned by friendly staff who ensured everything was fresh and appetizing.


    Large round tables filled the room, providing plenty of seating for everyone. Groups of trainees chatted animatedly, some in their uniforms and others in casual attire, creating a dynamic and welcoming environment. The walls were adorned with murals depicting scenes of heroism and teamwork, reminding everyone of the greater mission they were part of. As the class walked in, they were met with a symphony of sounds and smells.


    Markus suddenly appeared in front of the group, materializing out of thin air. ¡°Hello, how are you all doing on your first day?¡± he asked, his voice cheerful.


    ¡°Where did you come from? Are you a g-ghost?¡± Charles screamed, his eyes wide with fear.


    ¡°No need to worry, I¡¯m not a ghost, well at least not yet anyway,¡± Markus replied with a chuckle. ¡°Though if you see any, don''t call me. I hate fighting ghosts. It''s the main reason I never learned Japanese, so many ghosts in Japan.¡±


    ¡°Hey Charles, just wondering, but are you scared of ghosts?¡± Theo teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.


    ¡°What? No, no, of course not. I was just surprised by him suddenly appearing,¡± Charles replied, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.


    ¡°Then you won''t be afraid of the ghost right behind you then,¡± Theo said, pointing over Charles''s shoulder.


    Charles jumped into the air, propelled by his telekinesis, reaching a height that would have been impossible for an ordinary person.


    ¡°Don''t worry, he''s just teasing you,¡± Iris said, trying to stifle her laughter. ¡°Anyway, besides the classroom nearly getting wrecked earlier today, it''s been great,¡± she added gleefully.


    Markus laughed, clearly enjoying the antics. ¡°You remind me of myself as a kid, Charles¡ªminus the anger issues. I used to cause quite a bit of trouble back in the day.¡±


    Wallace walked up towards the group, still sipping coffee from his mug. ¡°You did a lot more than just a bit of trouble. Remember that prank you played on Nikolai? I still have no idea where you managed to get monster-attracting pink hair dye or how you managed to sneak it onto him.¡±


    Markus laughed heartily at the memory. ¡°Yeah, Emily really chewed me out for that one. She refused to help me in combat for a whole week.¡±


    ¡°I''d recommend not trying to cause any trouble,¡± Wallace said, glancing at Charles. ¡°A lot of new rules have been added solely because of Markus. Come on, I missed breakfast and so did Iris, so let''s hurry and get food.¡±


    The group made their way to the buffet tables, the delicious aromas growing stronger with each step. Iris''s eyes lit up at the sight of all the food. She piled her plate with a variety of options, while Wallace and Markus chatted amiably, reminiscing about their old exploits.


    "I''m going to go eat in my office. Jonathan said he wanted to talk with me soon anyway¡­¡± Markus said, turning to leave, only to walk straight into a wall. ¡°Fu-fu-fun day, isn''t it? Don''t curse in front of the kids, or else I''ll lose the bet,¡± Markus muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead.


    ¡°I''ll go with Markus. Someone has to make sure my brother doesn''t get into any trouble,¡± Wallace said, balancing his tray of food as he followed Markus.


    ¡°We should all sit together. We''re all in the same class, after all,¡± Jacob suggested, looking around at the remaining group.


    ¡°That''s a wonderful idea. I absolutely agree,¡± Iris said, her enthusiasm contagious.


    ¡°Well, I''m not going with you. Who wants to sit with you losers anyway?¡± Charles said, trying to recover his pride from the ghost teasing incident.


    Theo¡¯s eyes glowed black, and Charles''s vision suddenly went dark. "I won''t return your sight until you agree to go with us," Theo said calmly.


    ¡°Brother, is this a good idea? He''s very scary,¡± Celia asked, her voice tinged with worry.


    ¡°Fine, I''ll go with you, but that doesn''t mean I''ll pretend to be your friend or anything,¡± Charles grumbled, unwillingly conceding.


    Theo''s eyes returned to normal, and Charles''s sight was restored. The group made their way to a nearby table, settling in with their trays of food.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad we¡¯re all sitting together,¡± Jacob said, beaming.


    ¡°Just remember, we''re not friends,¡± Charles muttered, stabbing at his food with his fork.


    Iris looked around the table, feeling a sense of unity despite Charles''s grumbling. ¡°Well, friends or not, we''re in this together. Let''s make the best of it,¡± she said, raising her glass of juice in a toast.


    They each joined in the toast, clinking their glasses of juice together, even the reluctant Charles and Xavier, who seemed to be sleepwalking the entire time. The glasses met with a light chime, a harmonious sound that symbolized the tentative beginnings of their camaraderie.


    Iris had piled on a variety of different foods from each section, her plate a colorful array of pizza, salad, tacos, burgers, and more. She sampled everything with evident delight, savoring each bite.


    Alice had chosen spaghetti and meatballs, twirling the pasta around her fork with practiced precision. She took small, neat bites, her crimson eyes focused intently on her meal.


    Jacob and Charles both opted for pizza. Jacob''s plate held a simple cheese slice, gooey and golden, while Charles¡¯s slice was topped with mushrooms, the earthy aroma mingling with the rest of the cafeteria scents.


    Theo had gone for a bold choice, spicy shrimp curry, the vibrant red sauce making his plate stand out. He ate with gusto, clearly enjoying the heat and complexity of the dish.


    Celia, sitting close to her brother, had a plate of chicken tikka masala. The rich, creamy sauce and tender chicken pieces seemed to comfort her as she ate slowly, her single green eye observing everything with quiet curiosity.


    Xavier, true to his sleepy nature, had assembled a plate mostly filled with a variety of snacks: chips, pretzels, and cookies. However, he also had some shrimp skewers, the grilled seafood glistening under the cafeteria lights. He munched lazily, half-closed eyes betraying his lack of enthusiasm.


    ¡°Alright, this is definitely better than the school food,¡± Iris said with a satisfied sigh after sampling a bit of everything on her plate.


    ¡°I can''t wait for ability training later, though hopefully, it won''t be too difficult,¡± Jacob replied, taking a big bite of his pizza.


    ¡°Speak for yourselves. I think the training will be easy,¡± Charles muttered, taking a bite of his mushroom pizza with a scowl.


    Theo chuckled, ¡°Says the guy who just got restrained by Mrs. Stone.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that was a cheap shot, next time I won''t let it happen,¡± Charles snapped, glaring at Theo.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all about fighting, you know. We¡¯re supposed to learn control,¡± Alice interjected softly, adjusting her glasses.


    Celia looked up from her plate, ¡°I-I think it will be good for us to train together. We can all get better.¡±


    Xavier, still munching on a pretzel, simply nodded in agreement, too sleepy to contribute more.


    ¡°If anyone should be worried, it¡¯s Iris. You still haven¡¯t shown off your ability, scaredy-cat,¡± Charles teased, his voice dripping with mockery.


    Iris bristled, narrowing her eyes at him. ¡°If it becomes fully necessary to use, then I¡¯ll use it. Until then, I¡¯d rather not,¡± she retorted, her tone defiant.


    Charles smirked, leaning back in his chair. ¡°How many of you are even skilled with your ability? If we have to do a team exercise, I¡¯d rather you all not be dead weight.¡±


    ¡°Oh, look at who is suddenly interested in training here. Don¡¯t worry, I can use my ability with enough skill to cover for both me and Celia,¡± Theo said, giving Charles a challenging look.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Celia shrank back, tears starting to form in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m s-sorry, I haven¡¯t gotten the hang of using my ability yet,¡± she admitted, her voice trembling.


    ¡°The doctor recommended I don¡¯t use my ability unless instructed to, so I haven¡¯t gotten any practice yet,¡± Alice said, her face turning slightly pink with embarrassment.


    Xavier didn¡¯t say a thing, but from his fingertips, three ice cubes manifested and dropped into his drink, causing a small splash.


    Jacob spoke up, his tone thoughtful. ¡°I can use my ability well, but I need objects to control. It¡¯s the same for you, Charles. In an empty room, we¡¯re doomed.¡±


    Charles huffed, crossing his arms. ¡°At least I have some control. You¡¯re all just a bunch of amateurs.¡±


    ¡°Being rude won¡¯t help anyone,¡± Iris interjected, trying to keep the peace. ¡°We¡¯re all here to learn and improve. No one¡¯s perfect from the start.¡±


    Theo nodded in agreement. ¡°Yeah, and we¡¯ll have plenty of time to get better. Plus, we have each other to lean on.¡±


    ¡°Teamwork is key,¡± Jacob added, smiling at Celia to reassure her. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out together.¡±


    Celia wiped her tears and gave a small, determined nod. ¡°Y-yeah, together.¡±


    Even Charles seemed to soften slightly, though he rolled his eyes and muttered, ¡°Whatever. Just don¡¯t hold me back.¡±


    Alice smiled softly, adjusting her glasses. ¡°We¡¯ll do our best. That¡¯s all anyone can ask.¡±


    Xavier, finishing his drink, finally spoke up. ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on getting through today. If we do well, maybe we can go back to our dorms early. I want to take a nap.¡±


    Charles scoffed, rolling his eyes. ¡°A nap? That¡¯s all you¡¯ve done all day.¡±


    The group chuckled, the tension easing slightly as they shared a moment of levity.


    Just then, an alarm rang on each of their wristwatches, the high-pitched sound breaking through their laughter. Simultaneously, they glanced down to see the message flashing on their screens: ¡°Report to Gymnasium 3.¡±


    ¡°Well, looks like it¡¯s time to put those abilities to the test,¡± Theo said, rising from his seat.


    ¡°Let''s get this over with,¡± Charles muttered, though he got up with the rest of them.


    The group made their way through the bustling cafeteria, weaving through other trainees and faculty members. The excitement and nerves were palpable as they exited into the hallway. The corridors were wide and pristine, with polished floors that echoed their footsteps. Posters detailing various training exercises and motivational slogans adorned the walls, reminding them of the challenges ahead.


    After a few turns and a short elevator ride, they arrived at the entrance to Gymnasium 3. The double doors loomed large, the words ¡°Gymnasium 3¡± emblazoned above them in bold, metallic letters. Taking a deep breath, Iris pushed open the doors, and they stepped inside.


    The gymnasium was enormous, its high ceilings and vast space creating an almost intimidating atmosphere. The floor was marked with various sections, each designated for different types of training exercises. There were obstacle courses, combat rings, and sections filled with various types of equipment for physical conditioning. The walls were lined with racks of weapons and training dummies.


    Waiting for them at the center of the gym was Jonathan. He wore a tailored black suit that contrasted sharply with the casual athletic attire of the trainees. He held a wooden sword in his hands, its polished surface catching the light. The ground beneath him had transformed into grass, a stark difference from the polished gym floor.


    ¡°Welcome, everyone, to your first day of training,¡± Jonathan announced, his voice calm but authoritative. ¡°Your original instructor is¡­um, sick, so I, the facility manager, will be taking over. Today''s training is simple: I want you each to try to attack me all at once.¡±


    Charles¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°We get to beat up a teacher? Sweet,¡± he said, already envisioning the chaos.


    Jonathan nodded. ¡°If any of you would like to test out a weapon, or Jacob if you need any toys, they are on the racks over on the wall.¡±


    Iris walked over to the weapons rack, her fingers brushing against the various choices. As she scanned the selection, a bow, and a quiver of arrows seemed to call to her. She reached up and took them, feeling an immediate connection and an odd sense of familiarity. Charles, eager to fight, procured a variety of small daggers. Theo opted for a shield and crossbow, balancing offense and defense. Jacob gathered an assortment of dolls, each one embedded with a small explosive. The rest of the group decided to rely solely on their abilities.


    Though the weapons were made of wood, their craftsmanship, and balance made them formidable tools for training. The group spread out, forming a loose circle around Jonathan, who stood in the center with a relaxed yet poised stance. Celia, nervous but determined, hid behind Theo and his shield, peeking out cautiously.


    ¡°This is a test of your abilities and teamwork,¡± Jonathan declared, his eyes scanning each of them with an intense gaze. ¡°Show me what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    With a collective deep breath, the trainees prepared themselves. The air was thick with anticipation, the only sound being the soft rustle of their movements and the distant hum of the gym¡¯s ventilation system.


    Jonathan made the first move, a swift and fluid motion that seemed almost casual. He ran quickly towards Xavier first. He swung his wooden sword in a wide arc, the blade whistling through the air. Iris nocked an arrow and drew the bowstring back, aiming carefully before releasing it. The arrow flew straight and true, but Jonathan effortlessly deflected it with a flick of his sword.


    Xavier created ice on the ground, locking Jonathan¡¯s legs in place. In unison, Charles, with a gleam in his eye, hurled his daggers with precision. Using his ability to control their movement, he aimed them directly at Jonathan¡¯s neck.


    ¡°How predictable. Don¡¯t make your killing intentions so obvious,¡± Jonathan said, as a ring of vines appeared around his neck, blocking the knives.


    Theo, taking advantage of the distraction, raised his crossbow and fired a bolt while his other hand held the shield protectively in front of Celia. Jonathan broke out of the ice and sidestepped the bolt, which embedded itself harmlessly in the ice.


    Jacob¡¯s dolls, strategically placed around the gym, began to move, their tiny explosive charges armed and ready. Jonathan¡¯s eyes narrowed as he noticed them, and with a swift motion, he created large thorns that easily destroyed each floating toy.


    Iris nocked another arrow, calmly waiting for the right moment to attack. At that moment, Xavier surrounded Jonathan in a snowstorm, trying to provide cover for Iris¡¯s attack. Simultaneously, Jonathan''s ears turned black as Theo removed his sense of hearing. Iris then pulled the bow back and fired. As the arrow reached him, Jonathan noticed it. However, Charles used his ability to increase its speed at the last moment, leaving Jonathan unable to react. The blunt wooden arrow hit Jonathan directly in the stomach.


    For a brief moment, silence filled the gymnasium. Then Jonathan, visibly impressed, nodded. ¡°Well done,¡± he said, a hint of pride in his voice. ¡°I had a feeling this would be an interesting class, but to actually hit me is quite an impressive feat.¡±


    The trainees exchanged triumphant glances, their confidence growing. They had managed to land a hit on Jonathan, a testament to their teamwork.


    ¡°But don¡¯t get complacent,¡± Jonathan warned, his tone shifting to one of stern authority. ¡°This is just the beginning. Since you all seem quite skilled for a bunch of beginners, I think I''ll actually try a bit.¡±


    With that, the gymnasium floor seemed to come alive. Swarms of thorns erupted from the ground, a chaotic explosion of twisting, interlocking vines. Jonathan was lifted into the air, surrounded by a massive, swirling sphere of nature''s fury. The thorns wove together and thickened, forming an almost impenetrable barrier that obscured his exact location within the roiling mass. Below, the gymnasium transformed dramatically as vibrant grass and a kaleidoscope of flowers sprang up, turning the space from a sterile training facility into a lush, verdant jungle.


    The trainees, standing at the periphery, gazed up with a mix of awe and apprehension. The floral fragrance filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, creating a surreal contrast with the dark, thorny vortex at the center.


    Theo gripped his crossbow tightly, his gaze protective and intense. ¡°Celia, stay close to me,¡± he said firmly, positioning his shield defensively in front of her.


    Celia, peeking from behind Theo¡¯s shield, spoke with newfound confidence. ¡°I was able to mark him while everyone was fighting. I know exactly where he is within the giant thorn ball.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Iris responded, her eyes alight with determination. ¡°I have a plan. Everyone, will you trust me?¡±


    Charles raised an eyebrow, his usual skepticism replaced by reluctant acceptance. ¡°Fine, if I must. It¡¯s not like I have a better idea on how to defeat him.¡±


    Theo nodded in agreement. ¡°We should work together. Let¡¯s hear the plan.¡±


    Iris quickly outlined her strategy, her voice steady and authoritative. Each member of the team took their positions, the air crackling with tension. Giant seeds began to drop from the swirling thorn ball, crashing down with explosive force as the trainees scrambled to dodge them.


    Xavier, focusing intently, summoned all his energy to create the largest ice cube he had ever managed. Jacob, meanwhile, strategically placed and activated his explosive dolls, sending them into the swirling mass to distract Jonathan.


    Theo kept his shield raised, his focus split between protecting Celia and anticipating any attacks. Charles used his telekinesis to sharpen Xavier''s colossal ice cube into a deadly icicle, ensuring it stayed suspended and ready.


    Alice, her aura glowing with intensity, poured all her energy into Iris. ¡°Give it everything you¡¯ve got,¡± Alice urged, her voice filled with unwavering support.


    Iris nodded, her concentration unbroken. As the team executed their roles, the gym became a battleground of coordinated effort and raw power. Charles and Xavier worked together to launch the massive icicle towards the thorny sphere. Jonathan, attempting to reinforce his defenses with a thick wall of vines, was momentarily distracted by the incoming threat.


    In that crucial moment, Iris channeled all her fiery energy into a single, powerful arrow. She concentrated on the arrow, creating a blazing maelstrom of flames that seared through the air. The arrow, glowing with intense heat, pierced through the ice which was just a distraction, with remarkable precision. Jonathan, preoccupied with fortifying his barrier, was caught off guard. The arrow grazed his cheek, leaving a searing burn, but narrowly missing a fatal strike.


    The gym fell silent for a heartbeat, the tension palpable as Jonathan¡¯s expression shifted from calm to a mix of surprise and admiration. The team, exhausted but triumphant, stood together, their teamwork and individual skills having forged a decisive moment of victory.


    ¡°I¡¯m really out of shape,¡± Jonathan admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice despite his weariness. ¡°All this desk work has let a bunch of brats catch me off guard. Good work, everyone. I¡¯ll have to start training again to make sure this doesn¡¯t happen.¡±


    ¡°I can see why you were cautious about your ability,¡± Charles remarked, a note of begrudging respect in his tone. ¡°That was quite powerful.¡±


    ¡°Part of me is a little less afraid of it now,¡± Iris teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ¡°Maybe we should help you overcome your fear of ghosts next.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± Charles shot back, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ¡°Or else I¡¯ll make you into a ghost.¡±


    Their laughter echoed through the gymnasium, a moment of camaraderie breaking through the intensity of the training. As the group made their way back to their dorms, the atmosphere was lighter, their shared experience forging a bond of mutual respect and understanding.


    Iris reached her room, fatigue setting in as she collapsed onto her bed. She tried to take deep breaths, but a sharp pain surged through her chest. Her vision blurred as she coughed up a small amount of blood, her heart racing with fear. The once-familiar sound of her watch¡¯s heart monitor now blared violently, a relentless beeping that grew increasingly erratic.


    As the room darkened around her, the last thing Iris heard was the frantic, insistent beep of the heart monitor.

 Chapter 9-Untold Secrets

    As Iris woke up, she once again found herself in the dimly lit, smoky jazz club. The room was filled with the haunting melodies of floating instruments playing smooth, melancholic tunes. The saxophone¡¯s soulful notes blended seamlessly with the soft hum of the double bass, creating an atmosphere both soothing and eerie. Fate sat on the plush, black couch, engrossed in a thick, leather-bound book. The pages seemed ancient, filled with arcane symbols and cryptic text.


    ¡°When I said you had an ordeal that you needed to survive, a simple training exercise wasn¡¯t what I had in mind,¡± Fate sighed, not looking up from his book. ¡°Unless you''re using the book I gave you, it''s not good to use too much power. The burden will be too great.¡±


    ¡°Book¡­ that book was from you?¡± Iris questioned, her voice a mixture of confusion and realization.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Fate replied, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°That, and the butterfly that led you away from having that fireball harm you.¡±


    ¡°I have one question,¡± Iris began, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°You speak as if you know the future. Did you know in advance what would happen that night?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Fate admitted, finally looking up from his book. His gaze was steady, yet there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes. ¡°I knew that your home would be attacked. I knew they would try to kill you, and I knew that your parents would die as well.¡±


    ¡°Why did you only save me?¡± Iris asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Her voice was a mix of anger and desperation.


    Fate couldn''t say a word. He simply looked at her with a regretful expression, the weight of his silence more telling than any explanation he could offer.


    ¡°Answer me,¡± Iris demanded, her tears now streaming down her face. ¡°What is so special about me that I had to be saved?¡±


    Fate remained silent, his expression pained. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Wallace is probably worried about you. You shouldn''t sleep for too long. It''s time to wake up.¡±


    ¡°Wait, answer me!¡± Iris pleaded, her voice echoing through the club. But by the time she spoke those words, the surrounding scene began to fade. The music grew distant, and the jazz club dissolved into darkness.


    Iris opened her eyes to find herself in the sterile, clinical surroundings of an infirmary. The stark white walls and the faint scent of antiseptic were a sharp contrast to the vivid, dreamlike atmosphere of the jazz club. She was lying on a narrow hospital bed, the cool sheets rustling as she shifted. Sunlight filtered in through a nearby window, casting a soft, warm glow on the room. Her heart monitor beeped steadily, a reassuring sign that she was, for now, safe.


    Sitting nearby, Wallace was hunched over a stack of files, a half-empty mug of coffee in his hand. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes suggesting sleepless nights filled with worry and work. As he noticed Iris stirring, he set the mug down and looked at her, his expression a mix of relief and concern. The sight of his worn face and the familiar coffee cup brought a sense of normalcy to the surreal events she had just experienced.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± Wallace said, his voice gentle but firm. ¡°You overexerted yourself during training. How are you feeling?¡± His eyes searched her face for any signs of lingering pain or distress. Iris took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. The dream, Fate''s words, and the intense training all swirled in her mind, but the warmth in Wallace''s gaze anchored her to the present moment.


    ¡°You were talking in your sleep, what was your dream about? Usually, most dreams Awakened have can turn out rather significant,¡± Wallace said, taking a sip of his coffee. His gaze was both curious and concerned, indicating he knew there was more to her state than mere physical exhaustion.


    ¡°It was nothing, I¡¯m fine,¡± Iris said, a sad look on her face. She couldn''t bring herself to share the haunting details of her encounter with Fate, not just yet. The weight of his unspoken answers and the sorrow of her loss were too fresh.


    Wallace scrutinized her face, not convinced. ¡°You¡¯re not a very good liar, but if you do not want to talk about it, I won¡¯t pry. Your ability training should be easier from now on. Jonathan taking that position was only temporary until he could find someone better to fill that role.¡±


    ¡°Who will be in charge of us from now on?¡± Iris questioned, her expression still sad.


    ¡°You¡¯re all stuck with Markus from now on. Good luck. I doubt an ability genius like him knows how to train students,¡± Wallace chuckled. ¡°Though, from what I heard, your class is full of prodigies as well.¡± His attempt at lightening the mood brought a faint smile to Iris¡¯s lips, a small comfort amid her turmoil.


    Wallace walked over to a nearby cabinet, his movements purposeful and precise. He pulled out a stethoscope, the cold metal glinting under the infirmary''s fluorescent lights. Next, he retrieved a sphygmomanometer, its cuff unfurling with a soft rustle, and finally, a needle, which he inspected carefully before setting it down on a sterile tray. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the room, mingling with the aroma of Wallace''s coffee.


    ¡°I need to make sure you¡¯re fully recovered, besides while you¡¯re here I might as well perform your check-up¡± Wallace explained, his tone professional yet reassuring. He approached Iris, his eyes softening with concern as he placed the stethoscope¡¯s earpieces into his ears and the diaphragm on her chest. The rhythmic sound of her heartbeat filled his ears, steady but quickened by the recent ordeal. He noted the slight tension in her muscles, a residual effect of both physical strain and emotional turmoil.


    ¡°Try to relax,¡± he said gently, wrapping the sphygmomanometer¡¯s cuff around her arm. As he pumped the bulb, the pressure against her skin increased, the cuff tightening methodically. His movements were careful, and practiced, and he maintained a steady, comforting presence. ¡°This is just to make sure everything is in order. You¡¯ve been through a lot, but you''re strong.¡± Wallace¡¯s voice was a calm anchor during the storm still brewing within Iris, offering a semblance of normalcy and care.


    ¡°Lastly, I¡¯ll need to draw a bit of blood. On the bright side, this will only be necessary once a month,¡± Wallace reassured, his voice soothing and gentle.


    Iris closed her eyes, her breath hitching slightly as she turned her head away, refusing to look at the needle. Wallace, ever observant, noted her nervousness and used his ability to reduce the pain she would feel. A soft green aura emanated from his hands, casting a calming glow in the dimly lit infirmary. As he gently inserted the needle into a vein in her wrist, Iris felt only the faintest pinch, the usual sting dulled by Wallace''s calming power.


    He drew the required blood with practiced ease, his hands steady and sure. Once he removed the needle, Wallace placed a small band-aid over the tiny wound. The band-aid featured a cheerful teddy bear with a bow, its whimsical design a small gesture meant to bring comfort. ¡°There we go,¡± he said, giving her a warm smile. ¡°All done. You were very brave, Iris.¡± His words, coupled with the tender care he showed, helped ease the lingering tension, offering a sense of safety and reassurance amidst the chaos of her recent experiences.


    ¡°Wallace, I was wondering, why did you decide to become a doctor?¡± Iris asked, her curiosity evident.


    Wallace leaned back, a thoughtful smile crossing his face. ¡°While my job now includes much more than just being a doctor, it has always been my dream. I wanted to be able to help my brother, no matter how strong he is. He¡¯s been injured before, and there have been times when I didn¡¯t have enough energy left to fully heal him with my ability. But I could at least stitch his wounds, so I could heal him later.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an amazing brother, Wallace,¡± Iris said, her smile returning, a glint of admiration in her eyes.


    ¡°Thanks, Iris. You¡¯re pretty amazing yourself. I had a good laugh when Jonathan told me you all managed to injure him. I¡¯m definitely going to hold it over his head at our next big meeting,¡± Wallace said, laughing heartily. ¡°But you should head back to your dorm; it''s already six o¡¯clock. You were asleep for a few hours, I bet Xavier would be jealous if he knew how much sleep you got.¡±


    ¡°Alright, goodbye Wallace, have a good day,¡± Iris said cheerfully, making her way back to her dorm.


    A few minutes later, Jonathan barged into Wallace''s infirmary, his expression a mix of frustration and curiosity. ¡°I¡¯d like to take another look at Iris¡¯s file,¡± Jonathan demanded.


    ¡°Why, are you salty that a kid caught you off guard?¡± Wallace teased, a smirk playing on his lips.


    ¡°It doesn''t make sense,¡± Jonathan said, pacing slightly. ¡°How is she so powerful? It makes sense for the rest of the class, but not her. Xavier has connections to our organization, Jacob encountered a supernatural before awakening, which increased his sensitivity to aura. Charles had extensive training before coming here, and the twins were lab rats who are probably even stronger than the average Awakened due to their experimentation. Lastly, Alice has an authority ability. But Iris? We don¡¯t even know if she has an authority. It doesn¡¯t make sense that she would be that powerful. Her combat knowledge and proficiency with that bow were exceptional, far beyond what I would expect from someone like her.¡±


    ¡°I''ve looked over every piece of information we have on her, and nothing explains a single aspect of her¡­ peculiarities, well, besides one thing,¡± Wallace said, his tone measured.


    Jonathan''s curiosity piqued. ¡°What would that be, exactly?¡±


    ¡°You''ll have to wait until I finish running the analysis on this batch of blood,¡± Wallace replied calmly. ¡°Just to make sure the original sample wasn¡¯t a mistake. However, if my analysis is correct, it means she¡¯s not entirely human.¡±


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    A perplexed look crossed Jonathan¡¯s face as he processed Wallace¡¯s words. ¡°So, this is why the Bookkeeper wanted her. He clearly knows more than he''s willing to say. So many secrets across the board¡­ I¡¯m getting sick of it,¡± Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temples.


    ¡°I agree,¡± Wallace said, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Of all the members of the council, the Bookkeeper is easily one of the most suspicious. Though, that sentiment extends to the boss and that bag-faced bastard as well.¡± Wallace''s voice carried a note of frustration as he vented.


    ¡°Wallace, have you seen anyone in the facility named Matteo Howel?¡± Jonathan questioned, his tone laced with urgency.


    Wallace looked perplexed. ¡°I haven''t even heard of anyone with that name. Why are you bringing it up?¡±


    Jonathan reached into his pocket and took out a small white orb, infusing it with aura. As he did so, a file labeled "Project: Dark Sun" appeared, and he handed it to Wallace. ¡°Look over this document. If you find anything, let me know. I trust you, so make sure nobody else finds out about this,¡± Jonathan requested.


    Wallace accepted the file, his curiosity piqued. ¡°Alright, I''ll do my best. Also, once I¡¯m finished with the analysis of her blood, I¡¯ll send the data to you. Whatever the Bookkeeper is hiding, we¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    Jonathan nodded, a look of determination in his eyes. ¡°We will.¡± He turned and left Wallace¡¯s infirmary, leaving the doctor to his thoughts and the mysterious file now in his hands.


    Deep within the Alpha Facility lay a hidden area, shrouded in secrecy and darkness. The corridor was long and narrow, its walls lined with cold, black steel that seemed to absorb the faint overhead lighting, casting eerie shadows that danced along the floor. The air was heavy with an unsettling silence, broken only by the occasional, distant hum of machinery, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere.


    Each door along the corridor was a formidable barrier, crafted from reinforced metal and secured with intricate locking mechanisms. The doors were unmarked, their anonymity adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Two guards stood vigilant at each entrance, their expressions stern and unyielding. Clad in black tactical gear, they were the silent sentinels of this hidden realm, their eyes ever watchful, their hands never far from their weapons, embodying the strict discipline and secrecy of the facility.


    Behind each door lay a room, its occupant sealed away from the world. The rooms were soundproofed, ensuring that no noise escaped to betray the secrets they held. The flickering fluorescent lights above cast a harsh, clinical glow, illuminating the stark reality of this place. The hidden corridor was a fortress of solitude and secrecy, its existence known to only a select few within the Alpha Facility. A total of seventy-two rooms were within this unknown area, each full of untold mysteries.


    A man walked down the dark hallway, and the guards each tensed up as he passed them. He had cyan hair streaked with red, and his blue eyes were filled with indifference towards everyone. He wore a pristine white suit with a fur coat draped over his shoulders, giving him an air of effortless elegance. Despite the dark, oppressive surroundings, he stood out like a beacon of authority and menace.


    He did not wear shoes, but while difficult to notice, he was floating ever so slightly off the ground, his bare feet never touching the cold steel floor. He would take steps in the air, touching only the air. A purple ring with a rune inscribed on it adorned his left hand, glinting ominously under the flickering lights. On his right hand was a tattoo of a clock without hands, an enigmatic symbol that hinted at untold mysteries and a mastery over time itself.


    The guards, despite their stern and unyielding demeanor, couldn''t help but show a flicker of apprehension as he floated past. His presence was like a silent storm, promising both awe and dread. The corridor, already a fortress of solitude and secrecy, seemed to grow even more ominous in his presence, as if the very air grew heavier with each step he took.


    The man stopped at one door in particular, causing both guards to tense up even more, their postures becoming perfectly straight as they silently prayed the man wouldn''t notice a single imperfection in their conduct. He stared at them for a moment, a gaze that seemed to pierce through their very souls, and then gestured to be let into the room. As the heavy door swung open, and he walked in, the two guards let out a sigh of relief.


    ¡°I worry each day here will be my last,¡± Guard A muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Seriously, why must our boss be such a crazed bastard?¡± Guard B complained, his voice tinged with frustration and fear.


    ¡°That man did kill one of the Seven Deadly Sins and practically rebuilt A.E.G.I.S. He can do whatever he wants. UnAwakened like us are worthless trash to him. He refuses to even touch the ground we walk on,¡± Guard A sighed, shaking his head.


    ¡°All these Awakened are so weird, and what¡¯s with his outfit anyway? Why is it that every Awakened has such odd fashion sense?¡± Guard B asked, trying to lighten the mood despite the underlying tension.


    As the two guards continued their hushed conversation, the leader of A.E.G.I.S. began his own, far more sinister discussion inside the cell.


    Within the cell sat a twelve-year-old boy with tan skin and crimson-red hair. His eyes, matching his hair, were wide with fear as he stared at the man. Instantly, dark shadow tendrils erupted from the ground, attempting to skewer the intruder.


    ¡°Why must we go through this every time I visit you, brat?¡± Alexander said calmly, his voice carrying a chilling detachment.


    The shadow tendrils were repelled in an instant as a blinding light emitted from Alexander, consuming the room and blinding the young boy.


    ¡°All the other test subjects gave up, so why must you, the one I¡¯m so excited for, continue this?¡± Alexander asked, grabbing Matteo by the neck. His grip was firm, but there was an unsettling gentleness in his touch, as if he were handling something precious and fragile.


    Matteo struggled, his crimson eyes burning with defiance even as he gasped for breath. ¡°Let¡­ me¡­ go,¡± he managed to choke out, his voice trembling yet resolute.


    ¡°How many times must I tell you? You and your authority are too valuable to be released,¡± Alexander replied, his tone cold and dismissive as he dropped Matteo to the ground. Matteo fell, violently coughing and gasping for air.


    ¡°I didn''t come to continue the experiment on you today,¡± Alexander chuckled. ¡°A simple visit is all I desired.¡±


    As Alexander laughed, his sinister delight echoing through the cold, steel walls of the cell, Matteo saw a fleeting opportunity. Without hesitation, thousands of shadow tendrils erupted from every surface of the room, converging on Alexander with deadly intent. Yet, as before, a blinding light emanated from Alexander, incinerating the tendrils before they could reach their target.


    This time, however, Matteo had a new strategy. As the light blazed, he concentrated his shadows into a solid, razor-sharp sword. The moment the light began to fade, Matteo leaped forward, his heart pounding in his chest, and swung the shadow blade towards Alexander''s neck with all his might. Alexander''s eyes widened ever so slightly as he deftly dodged the attack, his movements fluid and almost graceful. In the same instant, he retaliated with lightning speed, a thin blade of light slicing through the air. Matteo staggered back, a sharp pain searing across his cheek as a small, precise cut appeared. Blood trickled down his face, but his eyes remained locked on Alexander, filled with a mix of fear and fierce determination.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Alexander said, his voice dripping with condescension. ¡°However, I could kill you before you even realize what happened, so stop playing this game.¡± With a dismissive glance, he turned and left the room.


    The guards instantly stopped their conversation as Alexander exited. He walked down the corridor before suddenly stopping and looking back. Instantly, the head of Guard B was removed from his body.


    ¡°Don''t delude yourselves into thinking that just because I¡¯m in a soundproof room, I don''t hear every single thing that goes on in this facility. Clean up that unsightly mess, or you will join it,¡± Alexander commanded as he continued to walk away.


    ¡°Now, what should I do about the other fools with even sharper tongues than that wretch?¡± Alexander mused to himself, his voice cold and calculating.


    Meanwhile, Iris sat on her bed, her mind swirling with unanswered questions. The cryptic dream and Fate''s unsettling words weighed heavily on her. She longed to confront Fate and demand answers, but the exact questions eluded her grasp. Her gaze drifted to the book resting on her bedside table, the birthday gift from Fate, an enigma in itself. Driven by a flicker of hope, she reached for it, hoping it might provide some clarity.


    As she opened the book, a burst of radiant golden flames erupted from its pages, taking the form of delicate butterflies. The fiery butterflies fluttered around her room, their luminescence casting a warm, ethereal glow. Each delicate wing shimmered with a rich, opalescent hue, illuminating the room with an enchanting dance of light and shadow.


    The golden butterflies swirled in graceful patterns, creating a mesmerizing display that seemed to draw Iris into a trance. Their soft, radiant light felt soothing yet profoundly mysterious, as if they were guiding her toward a deeper understanding. She watched in awe, her heart both anxious and hopeful, as the luminous creatures continued their dance, hinting at secrets yet to be revealed.


    The pages of the book were blank, yet they began to write themselves in crimson ink, each stroke forming elegant, yet hauntingly familiar handwriting. Iris''s heart raced as she realized that the script was her own. The words flowed with a fluid grace, but it was the voice that emerged from the book that truly unsettled her. It was the same feminine voice that had once urged her to open the book, now echoing with an ominous warning: ¡°Read my message carefully; you must follow it, or you will regret it.¡± The voice sent icy chills down Iris¡¯s spine, deepening her unease.


    As the book continued to scribe its message, the diary entry emerged with a profound sense of weight and gravity. Each line seemed to press down on Iris with an almost tangible force, as if the very ink carried the burden of the author''s regret and despair. The words, meticulously inscribed, conveyed a depth of sorrow and caution that felt all too real, as if the author''s anguish was being transmitted directly through the page, resonating with a chilling urgency.


    ¡°It¡¯s all my fault. I was reckless and foolish, wielding this power without fully understanding the consequences. I used it so carelessly, driven by a mix of ambition and desperation, and now I am left grappling with the heavy price. My heart aches with regret, knowing that my hasty decisions have brought me to this breaking point. If only I had been more cautious, perhaps things could have turned out differently.


    In my desperation, I have resolved to make a deal with a devil, a pact so dark that it fills me with dread. The wish I will make now is to warn my younger self about the dangers of the red book. I need to convey a message across time, a warning that I hope will prevent the same mistakes from being repeated. No matter where or when this message finds you, I implore you to heed these words and avoid the pitfalls I fell into.


    Please, do not rely on the red book, despite its tempting power. It promises much but delivers only regret and sorrow. I am filled with an all-encompassing sense of loss, knowing that the very tool I once coveted has become a source of my deepest anguish. If you can, take this warning to heart and save yourself from the path I have walked, one that I wish I could have avoided.


    ¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell¡±


    Iris stood paralyzed, her eyes scanning the final line: ¡°¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell.¡± The stark realization that the warning came from her own future self was overwhelming. She was left with a torrent of questions and a profound sense of dread, unable to reconcile the urgency of the message with her burning curiosity. The book, now a vessel of foreboding revelations, seemed to loom over her, its once mysterious allure now overshadowed by an inescapable sense of impending consequence. Her two greatest questions were why did her future self both urge her to open the book, then once again urge her to never use it, and what is the price for using this book.

 Chapter 10-Good Dog

    Maxwell opened the letter, his heartbeat pounding with curiosity and apprehension. The only indication of its sender was the white rose, a detail that seemed almost to be a calling card from the mysterious individual who had sent it. The envelope bore a red wax seal, intricately patterned with ornate borders and a single rose at its center.


    With deliberate care, Maxwell broke the seal and unfolded the letter inside. The handwriting was crude yet distinct, scrawled in black ink across the parchment. The script wasn''t in English, nor any language known to Earth, yet Maxwell found himself reading it with ease, as though the symbols were etched into his very soul. Each character seemed to pulse with a life of its own, drawing him deeper into the letter''s enigmatic message.


    Each word resonated with a strange familiarity, awakening long-buried memories and knowledge. As his eyes scanned the page, he realized that this was a message meant for him alone, one that spoke of ancient secrets and hidden truths. The language, though unnameable, was clear to him, as if it had always been a part of his being, waiting for this moment to be unveiled. Maxwell''s mind swirled with questions and anticipation, knowing that whatever lay within this letter could change everything.


    ¡°Oh corpse of future damnation, though you weren''t scheduled to die on August 27th at eight o''clock like the other key, your death date is rapidly approaching. The other key managed to survive the attempt on their life, however, your prophesied enemy seeks to eliminate you both in one fell swoop. The balance of this world hangs by a thread, and should both of your heads roll, the world shall end, again. This dire warning is not given lightly; heed it well, for the stakes could not be higher. Your survival is not merely a matter of personal importance but a linchpin to the very fabric of existence itself.


    I shall be there to defend you to the best of my ability, but I recommend doing everything you can to avoid a situation where my intervention is necessary. The enemy you face is relentless and cunning; the key of death shall not exhibit any form of mercy. Arm yourself with knowledge and prepare for the worst, for the time draws near when you must confront your destiny. It is not just your life at stake, but the future of all things hangs precariously on your shoulders. The decisions you make in the coming days will resonate through the ages, so tread carefully and stay vigilant.


    Your death date is September 13th, and the days until then will be fraught with danger and uncertainty. Prepare as well as you can, young Avaritia, Sin of Greed, and child of the king. Your existence may be a blemish on this world that very well may cast it into further despair, however, for now, your life must be protected. Understand that your role, no matter how tainted, is pivotal in the grand scheme. Every action you take will either fortify your survival or edge you closer to demise. Remain strong, for the time of reckoning is near. To assist you, I will provide a gift.¡±


    ¡ª Nihil


    Hundreds of thoughts flooded Maxwell''s mind, yet they occurred within mere seconds due to his hypercognition ability. His eyes glowed a golden hue, reflecting the torrent of questions and realizations racing through his mind. Death date? Keys? Avaritia, the Sin of Greed? A blemish on the world? Who was this Nihil? How could I read this language? What was his gift? Each question demanded answers, their urgency magnified by the gravity of the letter''s contents.


    Maxwell''s hypercognition sifted through possibilities and connections at lightning speed. The mention of a ¡°death date¡± sent a shiver down his spine, while the term ¡°keys¡± suggested a larger, more intricate plan at play. The title ¡°Avaritia, Sin of Greed¡± echoed ominously in his thoughts, casting a shadow over his very identity. The notion of being a ¡°blemish on the world¡± stung, but it also fueled a flourishing determination to understand his role in this puzzle.


    As he pondered, the enigma of Nihil loomed large. Who was this mysterious figure with such foreboding knowledge? And how could Maxwell, having never encountered this language before, read it as if it were second nature? The answers seemed tantalizingly out of reach, yet he assured himself that every piece of the puzzle would fall into place. For now, he needed to focus, to prepare for the perilous path ahead, and to decipher the cryptic warnings that had suddenly become the center of his existence.


    The first thing Maxwell did was look around the room for the ¡°gift¡± that Nihil had mentioned, but he couldn''t find anything. Assuming the gift would come at a later time, he began to plan out how he would survive his upcoming ordeal.


    ¡°My best course of action is to escape,¡± Maxwell said in a language he wasn''t familiar with.


    It wasn''t the language he had been previously speaking, nor did it match the script on the letter. Unbeknownst to him, this language was English, a gift from Nihil allowing him to communicate with humans. Maxwell took a deep breath, trying to process Nihil¡¯s gift. He looked at the door to the room and walked up to it. Fear and nervousness plagued his hyperefficient mind, amplifying his anxieties. However, he knew that the only way to survive was to escape, wherever he was.


    He gently opened the door and was taken aback by the sight before him, a vast, multi-tiered facility with five floors, each lined with rooms similar to his own. Occasionally, a denizen would exit their rooms. Most looked human, more so than the monstrosities he faced in the pit, but each had an abnormality, horns, tentacles for arms, wings, or snake tails for legs. They were human, but not quite.


    Maxwell remembered the horrific form he had and stepped back inside, heading to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror, seeing himself as he did in the puddle, but with one notable difference. As he lifted his shirt and turned around, he saw something unusual, small, angelic wings, six in total, hidden under his shirt. They were unnoticeable at first, but Maxwell realized that if he were to infuse aura into them, they would rapidly increase in size. This discovery added to his sense of urgency and determination.


    Maxwell ran out the door and realized he was on the first floor. He followed the crowd of inhabitants exiting the building, finding himself in a large, sprawling facility. Security cameras and guards patrolled the area, yet most of the inhabitants seemed complacent, or at least accustomed to their situation.


    He spotted a man who appeared to be of high importance, yet no one paid attention to him. The man wore a black suit with a white tie adorned with a black floral pattern. A single white glove covered his right hand. His cyan hair was messy, as if it hadn''t been combed in years. Black square-framed glasses perched over his pink-colored eyes, and a white medical mask hid his expression. Most distinctively, a large nail protruded from the left corner of his forehead. This man seemed invisible to most, but Maxwell was filled with fear as he watched him.


    Deciding to follow him, Maxwell hoped he might find a way to escape. The man meandered through the facility, seemingly giving himself a tour. Maxwell learned a lot about the area: the housing complex where he woke up, various training areas where the facility''s "meta-humans" trained, and different environments designed to test their adaptability¡ªfire pits, a massive pool, and a miniature jungle. He also saw classrooms, currently empty. The man visited various offices, where he was either brushed off or yelled at violently. This strange tour was cut short when the man interacted with two guards.


    ¡°Hey newbie, this is the manager of this facility, the eleven o''clock chair of A.E.G.I.S¡¯s Clockwork Council. Show him some respect,¡± Guard A ordered.


    ¡°It''s good to meet you, sir. Thank you for visiting me, a lowly guard,¡± Guard B said nervously.


    ¡°Not like that, newbie. Compared to Octavian, we treat this man differently. I''ll show you,¡± Guard A said with a malicious smile as he punched the man in the face.


    ¡°Wait, what are you doing?¡± Guard B questioned.


    Guard A ignored him and continued punching the man, even as he fell to the ground. The attacks continued relentlessly.


    ¡°You see, while this man is technically our boss, he''s nothing more than a figurehead, an infinitely healing punching bag that will never fight back,¡± Guard A said excitedly.


    Indeed, the man kept healing as he was being punched. The most twisted aspect of the situation was the insane smile on his face. Even as teeth fell out, they healed instantly, maintaining that crazed, unyielding grin.


    ¡°Frank Nicolas Stein, a bastard that should have been killed already, instead they stuck that nail in his head controlling his thoughts so he can never have any form of aggression. He can also never fight back, let alone kill anyone,¡± Guard A explained.


    ¡°Why? Why would anyone do that?¡± Guard B questioned, feeling pity for Frank.


    ¡°Hell if I know, I''m just telling you what the guard told me when I first got here last year, now take your gun and shoot him, trust me it''s therapeutic,¡± Guard A ordered.


    Guard B tensed up but complied with the other guard''s order. They slowly drew the pistol from its holster and aimed it at Frank. Fear filled their eyes; they didn''t want to shoot him. However, after a moment''s hesitation, they pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the facility, yet no one seemed to react. It was as if they were all accustomed to Frank''s daily execution. Blood splattered onto the ground as a bullet hole appeared in the center of Frank''s forehead.


    ¡°Holy shit, newbie, good shot! Right in the head. Watch this¡ªit''s my favorite part,¡± Guard A said excitedly.


    The bullet was expelled from the hole in Frank''s head with a wet, unnatural sound. As if small snakes were intertwining to form stitches, the wound swiftly closed. Frank stood up, wearing the same joyful expression as before, his grin unnervingly intact. The sight was grotesque and surreal, a chilling reminder of his unnatural ability.


    Guard B stared in shock and horror, unable to reconcile the scene before them. Guard A, meanwhile, watched with gleeful fascination, his laughter echoing through the hallway. The other inhabitants continued their routines, indifferent to the gruesome spectacle. Frank, still smiling, seemed utterly unfazed by his own resurrection, as if it was just another part of his daily routine.


    ¡°Come on newbie, our shifts are almost over, I''ll buy you a round of drinks for that shot,¡± Guard A said as he put his arm around Guard B and laughed. The two walked away from Frank.


    All while this occurred, Maxwell hid inside a nearby classroom, his mind racing with confusion and horror. He crouched low, peering through the small window in the classroom door, trying to make sense of the brutal scene unfolding before him. The casual cruelty of the guards and the unnerving resilience of Frank left Maxwell''s hypercognitive mind reeling. He tried to process each detail: the guards'' malicious glee, the grotesque spectacle of Frank''s self-healing, and the disturbing normalization of such violence within the facility. His thoughts were a tangled web of fear and strategic planning, his instincts screaming at him to remain hidden and unnoticed.


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    After the guards had their fill of torment and left, Maxwell breathed a cautious sigh of relief. However, his heart skipped a beat as Frank, now fully healed and still wearing that unsettling smile, walked directly toward the classroom. Maxwell''s pulse quickened as he saw Frank reach for the door handle. Without a moment to lose, Maxwell darted behind the lectern at the front of the room, his breaths shallow and silent. The door creaked open, and Frank stepped inside, his footsteps echoing ominously in the otherwise empty room. Maxwell''s hypercognitive abilities heightened his senses, making each sound feel amplified and each second stretch into an eternity.


    Maxwell stayed perfectly still, his body pressed against the cold, hard surface of the lectern. He strained to hear Frank''s movements, the tension in the air almost palpable. Frank''s footsteps approached slowly, methodically, as if he were searching for something or someone. Maxwell''s mind raced through possible scenarios and escape routes, calculating his chances of remaining undetected. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic tapping of Frank''s shoes on the tiled floor. Maxwell held his breath, every muscle in his body tense with anxiety, praying that Frank would overlook his hiding spot.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re in here, please come out, I won''t harm you, promise,¡± Frank said calmly, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of gentleness and authority.


    Maxwell''s heart raced as he realized Frank had been aware of his presence all along. Reluctantly, he emerged from behind the lectern, coming face to face with Frank. The man''s disturbing and eerie smile remained unwavering, his pink eyes gleaming with an unsettling cheerfulness.


    ¡°Don''t feel bad,¡± Frank said, his tone still unnervingly calm. ¡°I noticed you the moment you began to watch me. Those eyes of yours are attentive, but leaving your ability running constantly causes the aura surrounding it to be detected. You were so focused on observing my every move that you didn''t account for that. But overall, your stealth was good,¡± he added, a hint of praise in his voice.


    Maxwell swallowed hard, his mind racing. ¡°Where am I? I suddenly woke up here after being kidnapped.¡±


    ¡°This is A.E.G.I.S¡¯s Beta Facility,¡± Frank explained cheerfully. ¡°The agents kidnap the homeless and experiment on them. Ninety-five percent of the test subjects turn into horrific monsters, similar to an Awakened experiencing madness. However, the five percent who survive become elite soldiers with the capabilities of whatever their DNA was fused with.¡±


    ¡°How can you say all of that with such a happy face?¡± Maxwell questioned, his eyes filled with fear and disbelief.


    ¡°I don''t know what you¡¯re talking about. I¡¯m always like this,¡± Frank replied, his smile never faltering. ¡°I think you need to be cheered up a bit. How about you come to my office with me? We can finish the tour on the way there,¡± he suggested with a calming smile.


    Maxwell didn''t respond but chose to follow him, hoping to learn more about the facility and perhaps find a way to escape. They walked through the labyrinthine corridors, Frank pointing out various locations along the way. They passed by a cafeteria, where the food appeared subpar.


    ¡°Sadly, our funding isn''t as great as the Alpha Facility''s, so budget cuts had to be made somewhere, and the food was one of the places to get cut,¡± Frank commented, still cheerful.


    As they continued, they arrived at a laboratory filled with advanced scientific equipment. Researchers in white coats moved between stations, conducting experiments and analyzing data. The sterile environment was a stark contrast to the brutal training areas and the dreary cafeteria.


    ¡°This is where we conduct our experiments and monitor the progress of our subjects,¡± Frank said, his tone still unnervingly cheerful. ¡°The scientists here are some of the best in their field, dedicated to unlocking the full potential of our meta-humans, should you hit a wall in your strength we¡¯ll add a bit more to your DNA¡±


    Maxwell''s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as he followed Frank. Each new location revealed more about the sinister operations of the Beta Facility, and he knew he had to find a way to escape before he became another one of their experiments.


    ¡°This is my office, please take a seat,¡± Frank said, gesturing to the lone intact chair.


    The office was in complete disarray. The computer was shattered, with a brick lodged into its monitor, rendering it useless. Every chair, save for one, had its legs broken, making them unusable. The carpet was torn up, revealing patches of bare concrete underneath. Broken glass was scattered across parts of the floor, reflecting the dim light from the single, flickering fluorescent bulb overhead. The walls were covered in graffiti of various colors and handwriting, each message more hostile than the last. Words like ¡°Die, Frank, Die¡± and ¡°You¡¯re a monster¡± were scrawled everywhere, a testament to the contempt held for Frank by others in the facility.


    Maxwell hesitated for a moment, taking in the chaotic scene before him. He gingerly stepped over the broken glass and torn carpet, making his way to the solitary chair that Frank had indicated. As he sat down, he felt the weight of the room''s oppressive atmosphere pressing down on him. The stark contrast between Frank''s unnervingly cheerful demeanor and the violent hatred etched onto the surrounding walls was deeply unsettling.


    Despite the disarray, one corner of the room stood out in stark contrast. A pristine dog bed lay there, surrounded by clean walls, untouched by the vandalism that marred the rest of the space. The area seemed almost sacred, a small oasis of calm amidst the chaos. Not a single hateful word or mark of damage encroached upon it, making it clear that this spot held significant meaning for Frank. Maxwell couldn¡¯t help but be curious about the story behind this peculiar detail.


    Frank, seemingly oblivious to the hostile environment, took a seat across from Maxwell on a stack of old books. ¡°I know it doesn''t look like much, but it¡¯s home,¡± he said with a disarming smile. Maxwell couldn''t help but feel a mix of pity and confusion. How could Frank remain so upbeat in the face of such animosity? He wanted to ask, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he focused on the immediate concern, understanding more about this facility and figuring out a way to escape.


    Frank noticed Maxwell¡¯s gaze lingering on the dog bed, and his smile softened, a hint of genuine emotion breaking through his eerie cheerfulness. ¡°That¡¯s where my dog sleeps. His name is Bjorn Jr. He was named after the previous owner of this facility. He was truly a great man, much more fit to run this place than me,¡± Frank said, his face momentarily losing its forced cheerfulness.


    ¡°What happened to the previous owner?¡± Maxwell asked, curiosity piqued.


    ¡°It happened a year before I became involved in A.E.G.I.S. He died during the raid against the Sin of Envy, Invidia, which was six years ago. Many of us refer to it as A.E.G.I.S.¡¯s greatest mistake,¡± Frank said calmly, the mention of the event carrying a weight that pierced through his usual demeanor.


    ¡°Can you tell me more about that event?¡± Maxwell asked, the term ¡°Sin¡± reminding him of what Nihil had called him.


    ¡°The leader of A.E.G.I.S. is obsessed with killing the Seven Deadly Sins. For what reason, he refuses to tell any of us. He first took over the organization after single-handedly killing the Sin of Pride, Superbia. That was back in 1922. Awakened have a much longer lifespan; nobody knows how old we can get since we usually die in combat. After killing Superbia, he drastically reformed the organization. Things were going perfectly until the Invidia raid. We lost many powerful Awakened, which drastically weakened A.E.G.I.S.¡¯s standing in the world. Half of the organization''s elite council was killed as well. Bjorn was a member of that council, the previous eleven o¡¯clock chair. The damage he did to Invidia was drastically more than everyone else, except for the Dragon Slayer, Eliza. However, mid-fight he disappeared, assumed to have been killed by one of the numerous attacks from Invidia. However, his body was never found. After that raid, many of the surviving Awakened lost faith in Alexander¡¯s leadership and chose to leave. That was six years ago, and we still haven''t fully recovered from the drastic losses,¡± Frank explained, his tone still carrying the same cheeriness.


    Maxwell absorbed the information, his mind racing. The tale of Bjorn and the catastrophic raid painted a grim picture of the organization''s recent history. He felt a strange mix of fear and determination. His thoughts returned to the letter from Nihil, the cryptic warnings, and his uncertain fate. The more he learned, the more questions arose. Who was this Alexander? Why was he so intent on destroying the Sins? And what did it mean for Maxwell, now labeled as the Sin of Greed? The weight of these revelations pressed heavily on him, adding urgency to his need to understand and escape this place.


    ¡°Oh not my depression story seems to have worsened your mood, let me go get Bjorn Jr. he always cheers everyone, due to his name his bed is the one spot of this room nobody dares to vandalize,¡± Frank cheerfully said.


    Frank pulled out a special whistle and blew it, the high-pitched sound barely audible to Maxwell. Moments later, a golden blur streaked into the room, resolving into a fluffy golden retriever with bright blue eyes. The dog skidded to a halt beside Frank, his tail wagging furiously, exuding an air of boundless joy. Despite the apparent emptiness behind those bright blue eyes, there was an undeniable charm in his unthinking exuberance.


    The golden retriever, Bjorn Jr., sported a red bandanna with white spots around his neck, partially covering a collar that jingled with every enthusiastic movement. His fur was impossibly soft and well-kept, a stark contrast to the disarray of the room. Bjorn Jr.¡¯s eyes sparkled with a kind of pure, innocent happiness that seemed almost otherworldly in such a grim setting.


    ¡°Meet Bjorn Jr.,¡± Frank said, his eerie smile softening into something almost genuine as he petted the dog. ¡°Named after a great man, and the best companion I could ask for. He¡¯s a good boy, isn¡¯t he?¡± Frank¡¯s affection for the dog was evident, and for a moment, the room¡¯s oppressive atmosphere lifted, replaced by the simple, undeniable joy that only a dog could bring.


    Maxwell couldn''t help but smile at the sight. The golden retriever¡¯s presence was a stark reminder of normalcy and innocence, a brief respite from the dark, twisted world he had found himself in. As Bjorn Jr. leaned into Frank¡¯s touch, the room felt a little less like a prison and a little more like a sanctuary, even if only for a fleeting moment.


    As Frank lavished attention on Bjorn Jr., scratching behind his ears and cooing softly, Maxwell seized the opportunity. His heart raced as he carefully reached into Frank¡¯s pocket, praying the man wouldn¡¯t notice the intrusion. The golden retriever¡¯s joyful presence seemed to mask the tension, his wagging tail and delighted pants creating an atmosphere of innocence and distraction.


    Maxwell¡¯s fingers brushed against the key card, and he carefully extracted it, his movements slow and deliberate. Frank remained blissfully unaware, entirely focused on his furry companion. Maxwell slipped the card into his own pocket, his pulse steadying slightly as the immediate danger passed. To avoid arousing suspicion, he knelt down and began to pet Bjorn Jr. himself, the dog''s soft fur and enthusiastic response providing an unexpected sense of comfort.


    As Maxwell ran his fingers through Bjorn Jr.''s luxurious coat, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. The golden retriever''s innocent eyes and unreserved affection made it easy to forget, if only for a moment, the grim reality of his situation. Guilt pricked at him for using such an adorable dog as a distraction, but the stakes were too high for second thoughts.


    Bjorn Jr. leaned into Maxwell''s touch, his warm, soft fur a soothing balm against the chaos of the world around them. Maxwell found himself smiling despite the tension, his worries momentarily melting away under the dog¡¯s unrelenting charm. The golden retriever¡¯s presence was a small beacon of light in the otherwise dark and twisted facility, and Maxwell couldn''t help but feel a pang of regret for the deception, even as he resolved to use the key card to escape.


    After several minutes of petting the good boy, Maxwell stood up, and said, ¡°Thank you for the tour and for letting me pet your dog, I should head back to my dorm room,¡± hoping Frank wouldn''t notice what had been stolen.


    ¡°Alright, if you¡¯re ever feeling sad or just want to visit Bjorn Jr., feel free to stop by my office,¡± Frank replied, his smile seeming genuine for once.


    Maxwell left the office, his heartbeat pounding as he took each step. He closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. With the key card securely in his pocket, he began to quickly plan his escape attempt, envisioning the paths he might take and the obstacles he might encounter. He knew that timing would be crucial, and that he would need to move swiftly and quietly to avoid detection.


    Meanwhile, back in the office, Frank got down on his knee to continue petting Bjorn Jr. He chuckled softly, his usual eerie cheerfulness tempered with a hint of amusement. ¡°Aww, it''s adorable that he thinks he tricked me, isn''t it, buddy?¡± Frank said happily, scratching behind the dog''s ears. Bjorn Jr. wagged his tail enthusiastically, oblivious to the layers of deception and intrigue surrounding him.

 Chapter 11-Escape Attempt

    After several minutes of petting Bjorn Jr., Frank stood up and settled into the sole undamaged chair in the room. Bjorn Jr. curled up on his dog bed and promptly fell asleep, his breathing slow and steady. Frank reached down and picked up a small shard of glass from the floor. He examined it for a moment, the edges glinting under the dim light. With a deliberate motion, he dragged the shard across the palm of his hand, watching as blood welled up and spilled onto the floor.


    The blood began to convulse and change, morphing into a grotesque amalgamation of skin and eyes, supported by small, spider-like legs. The creature twitched and shivered, a macabre parody of life, before scuttling toward a small hole in the ground and disappearing into the darkness. Frank''s wound healed almost instantly, the skin knitting together as though it had never been damaged. He flexed his hand, testing the newly mended flesh, then leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look on his face.


    ¡°Let''s see if that kid learned anything from my lesson about stealth earlier,¡± Frank muttered to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips. He knew that Maxwell had taken the key card, but he was curious to see how the boy would use it. The skin creature would keep an eye on Maxwell, reporting back anything of interest. Frank''s eyes gleamed with anticipation, the twisted game of cat and mouse bringing a spark of genuine excitement to his otherwise monotonous existence.


    Minutes earlier, the moment Maxwell left the room, his heart was still racing. He couldn''t believe Frank hadn''t noticed him, or at least that''s what he thought. His mind buzzed with hypercognition, planning out his escape down to the tiniest detail. He recalled every aspect of Frank''s tour, especially the heavily guarded elevator they had passed. Maxwell was certain this elevator was his ticket to freedom. Determined and focused, he started sprinting toward his destination, weaving through the corridors with precision and speed.


    As Maxwell ran, he accidentally collided with a boy around his age. The boy had long white hair and vacant gray eyes, and he wore light blue pajamas adorned with small cat faces. The matching shirt and pants, along with a small collar with a bell, gave him a whimsical appearance. Small fangs peeked from under his warm smile, and cat ears perched atop his head. He had dropped his walking cane, and was now scrambling on the floor, searching for it.


    ¡°Here, let me help you,¡± Maxwell said, quickly picking up the cane and placing it in the boy''s hands.


    ¡°Thank you so much. I¡¯m incapable of seeing, so this cane is very vital for me. My name is Noah. What about you?¡± Noah questioned, his voice filled with gratitude.


    ¡°Maxwell. I¡¯m sorry for running into you, I¡¯m just in a bit of a hurry,¡± Maxwell replied, glancing back as he resumed his hurried pace.


    ¡°How peculiar. I can usually sense nearby humans, but he was completely invisible to me,¡± Noah mused to himself, his vacant gray eyes seeming to search the empty space around him. The bell on his collar jingled softly as he stood there, contemplating the strange encounter.


    Maxwell continued his pace, but knew his destination was rather far from his starting point of Frank''s office. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion, but from the fear of being caught before he could even attempt his escape. As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a pair of figures who swiftly moved to block his path.


    ¡°Hey, hey, where are you running to?¡± Sarah questioned, her sharp yellow eyes narrowing with curiosity.


    The first girl had long, flowing white hair that cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall. Her sharp, piercing yellow eyes contrasted strikingly against her pale complexion. She wore a pristine white dress that seemed to shimmer in the light, accentuating her delicate features. In her hand, she clutched an intricately crafted angel doll, its tiny wings, and serene expression mirroring her own quiet grace. The doll appeared to be a treasured companion, its pristine condition suggesting it was cared for with great tenderness. She looked to be a year younger than Maxwell.


    ¡°Come on, come on, tell us, what''s the big rush?¡± Emily echoed, her voice dripping with mock concern.


    The second girl had long, flowing white hair that cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall. Her sharp, piercing yellow eyes contrasted strikingly against her pale complexion, mirroring the intensity of her twin sister''s gaze. She wore a jet-black dress that absorbed the light, creating a stark contrast to her ethereal features. In her hand, she clutched an intricately crafted demon doll, its tiny horns, and sinister expression standing in stark opposition to the angel doll her sister held. The doll appeared to be a cherished companion, its well-preserved condition suggesting it was handled with the same care and tenderness. Despite their contrasting appearances, the twins shared an undeniable bond, their distinct dolls reflecting the duality of their connection. She looked to be a year younger than Maxwell.


    Maxwell''s mind raced, hypercognition kicking into overdrive as he assessed the situation. These girls were clearly not ordinary inhabitants, their presence exuded an unsettling mix of innocence and menace. He needed to think fast, come up with a plausible excuse, or find a way to slip past them without raising further suspicion.


    ¡°I''m just¡­trying to find my way back to my room,¡± Maxwell stammered, forcing a nervous smile. ¡°I got a bit turned around, that''s all.¡±


    Sarah and Emily exchanged knowing glances, their expressions unreadable. ¡°Is that so?¡± Sarah mused, taking a step closer. ¡°You seem awfully flustered for someone just looking for their room.¡±


    Maxwell''s pulse quickened as he tried to maintain his composure. ¡°It''s a big place, easy to get lost,¡± he replied, his eyes darting between the two girls. He had to get past them, and quickly, before they decided to dig deeper into his intentions.


    ¡°You¡¯re a horrible liar, and trust me I¡¯m good at noticing liars,¡± Emily said, standing closer to Maxwell.


    ¡°Are you picking on someone again, sister? Just the other day, you stole someone''s cane and were tossing it around,¡± Ashe said, annoyance lacing his tone.


    The boy strode over to the group, his pink curly hair bouncing slightly with each step. His blood-red eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, clearly unimpressed. He wore a crimson hoodie that contrasted sharply with his pale skin, and black pants that completed his casual yet slightly menacing look. Underneath his disapproving expression, small fangs were visible, though they seemed different compared to the ones Noah had, sharper and more predatory.


    Ashe¡¯s presence added a new layer of tension to the encounter. His disapproving glare was directed at Sarah and Emily, but Maxwell felt its weight as well. ¡°You know how I feel about bullying,¡± Ashe continued, his voice carrying a note of authority. ¡°Why do you always have to make things difficult for everyone?¡±


    Sarah rolled her eyes, her sharp yellow gaze flicking to her brother. ¡°We were just having a bit of fun, Ashe. No need to get all worked up.¡±


    Emily pouted, her grip tightening on the demon doll. ¡°Yeah, we weren¡¯t hurting anyone. Just wanted to see where this guy was rushing off to in such a hurry.¡±


    Maxwell seized the opportunity, his mind working rapidly to come up with a way out of this confrontation. ¡°Really, I¡¯m just trying to get back to my room,¡± he said, his voice steadying with each word. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to cause any trouble.¡±


    Ashe¡¯s gaze softened slightly as he turned to Maxwell. ¡°Don¡¯t let them bother you. I¡¯ll make sure they don¡¯t cause any more problems. You should head back to your room.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on, brother, why must you always be a buzzkill,¡± The two said in unison.


    ¡°You were a problem child when there was just one of you, this meta-ability of yours to clone yourself, has turned you into a bigger pain to deal with,¡± Ashe said.


    Maxwell nodded, grateful for the unexpected ally. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, slipping past the twins as Ashe held them in check. As he continued his journey, the tension slowly eased from his shoulders, though he remained alert. He had narrowly escaped one obstacle, but he knew many more lay ahead.


    ¡°How many more people will I run into? This is getting ridiculous,¡± Maxwell muttered under his breath as he drew closer to his destination.


    As he passed by a lounge area, he spotted two people roughly his age locked in a heated battle. He stopped, curiosity getting the better of him. The girl had long, flowing purple hair and eyes to match. She wore a black dress paired with white socks and black dress shoes, her movements swift and graceful as she jumped across the room. Thin, razor-sharp threads extended from her fingers, slicing through the air as she aimed for her opponent.


    The boy was a stark contrast, with crimson hair and cold green eyes. His skin had a peculiar light green tint, making him appear almost otherworldly. Dressed in a maroon shirt and black pants, he stood his ground, two upwards-facing horns adding to his intimidating presence. His hands transformed into writhing green tentacles, which he used to parry the girl¡¯s attacks.


    ¡°Just give me the last pudding cup already!¡± Cynthia yelled, her frustration evident in her voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s mine, you can¡¯t have it!¡± Rook retorted, his determination equally strong.


    Maxwell watched in disbelief, momentarily forgetting his own predicament. The sheer absurdity of their fight over a pudding cup struck him as both amusing and concerning. He marveled at their powers, realizing just how unique and dangerous everyone in this facility was. He took a step back, ensuring he stayed out of their line of fire, and continued to plan his next move.


    Cynthia''s eyes narrowed as she lunged forward, her purple hair trailing behind her like a cape. The threads extending from her fingers glinted menacingly, each one as sharp as a razor. She slashed through the air, aiming directly at Rook¡¯s chest.


    Rook reacted swiftly, his hands morphing into writhing green tentacles. They coiled and twisted, forming a barrier that absorbed Cynthia''s attack. The threads sliced through some of the tentacles, but new ones sprouted almost instantly, replacing the severed ones.


    ¡°Are you really attacking me for a pudding cup?¡± Rook questioned, his green eyes gleaming with defiance.


    Cynthia didn''t respond with words. Instead, she leaped into the air, her threads weaving an intricate web around Rook. She landed gracefully on the other side, pulling her fingers back to tighten the web, intending to immobilize him.


    Rook, however, was quicker than she anticipated. His tentacles shot out, severing the threads before they could fully ensnare him. He then counterattacked, his tentacles lashing out like whips. Cynthia dodged and twisted, her dress fluttering as she moved with remarkable agility.


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    Maxwell watched from the sidelines, amazed at their skills. He knew he had to keep moving, but the fight was too captivating to ignore.


    Cynthia managed to get in close, her threads wrapping around one of Rook''s tentacles. She yanked hard, pulling him off balance. Rook stumbled but quickly regained his footing, using his remaining tentacles to launch himself at her. The two clashed in the center of the lounge, their powers colliding in a chaotic dance of purple and green.


    Just as Cynthia prepared to deliver a finishing blow, a loud voice cut through the air. ¡°Enough!¡± A group of guards stormed into the lounge, their presence imposing and authoritative.


    The combatants froze, their eyes darting to the intruders. One guard, a tall figure with a stern expression, stepped forward. ¡°You two are causing too much trouble. Hand over the pudding cup.¡±


    Cynthia and Rook reluctantly stepped back, their animosity momentarily subdued. Cynthia loosened her threads, letting them fall to the ground, while Rook retracted his tentacles, his hands returning to their normal form.


    The guard reached down and picked up the pudding cup from where it had fallen during the fight. With a disdainful look, he squeezed it tightly, causing the contents to splatter across the floor. ¡°There, now nobody gets it.¡±


    Cynthia and Rook both looked devastated, their expressions a mix of anger and disappointment. The guards ushered them away, leaving Maxwell standing in the hallway, the remnants of the pudding cup smeared on the floor as a reminder of the chaos he had just witnessed. With the path now clear, Maxwell resumed his journey, his determination renewed.


    Maxwell finally arrived at his destination, the heavily guarded elevator that he believed was his ticket out of this nightmarish facility. A total of six armed guards stood at attention, their eyes scanning the area with the precision of trained soldiers. Their presence was intimidating, a clear indication that whatever lay beyond the elevator doors was of significant importance. Maxwell crouched behind a corner, his hypercognition whirring as he rapidly assessed the situation. There was no way he could take on all of those guards at once, not without a solid plan. As he pondered his next move, he remained oblivious to the eerie skin creature that had been silently observing him.


    Back in his office, Frank watched the unfolding scene with a twisted sense of amusement. The skin creature transmitted the images directly to him, and he couldn''t help but smile at Maxwell''s ingenuity. ¡°So he¡¯s realized that the elevator is the exit. Well done. I wonder how he will get past the guards. What do you think, boy?¡± Frank''s voice shifted to a cheerful tone as he glanced at Bjorn Jr., who continued to rest peacefully on his bed.


    ¡°Sleep well, I''ll find you something delicious for dinner once I¡¯m done with this little game,¡± Frank said excitedly, his eyes never leaving the images being relayed by the creature.


    Determined and desperate, Maxwell quickly ran back to the lounge, a plan forming in his mind. He burst into the room, where Cynthia and Rook sat on opposite ends, their expressions still sour from their recent clash. ¡°Listen up, I need both of your help. If you help me, I''ll get you both another pudding cup,¡± Maxwell lied, hoping the promise of a reward would be enough to enlist their aid.


    Cynthia eyed him suspiciously, her purple eyes narrowing. ¡°Oh really? Where are you going to get one? The fridge is all out and won''t be stocked again for two days.¡±


    Maxwell flashed the stolen key card, its significance not lost on them. ¡°I can get into where they keep the food pretty easily with this,¡± he said, a confident smirk playing on his lips.


    Their eyes lit up with curiosity, the potential for access to restricted areas far more enticing than the mere promise of pudding. ¡°Alright, what do you need us to do?¡± Rook asked, his tentacles twitching slightly in anticipation.


    ¡°Wait right here, I require two others first,¡± Maxwell replied, darting out of the room before they could question him further.


    He found the twins, Sarah and Emily, sitting on the ground with sullen expressions, their earlier mischief replaced by boredom. ¡°I need your help,¡± Maxwell said, his tone urgent.


    ¡°What¡¯s in it for us?¡± Sarah asked, her sharp yellow eyes glinting with interest.


    ¡°With this, you''ll be able to commit a lot more mischief, in places your brother can''t stop you,¡± Maxwell answered, holding up the key card. Their faces lit up with excitement, and without further hesitation, they agreed to join him. With his team assembled, Maxwell knew he had one shot to pull off his plan and escape this hellish facility.


    The five of them gathered in the lounge, the air thick with anticipation as Maxwell explained his plan. His mind raced with hypercognitive precision, carefully crafting each step to ensure his success while keeping his true intentions hidden. He knew he had to be convincing, but he also had to withhold the critical detail, he had no intention of giving them the key card once he escaped.


    ¡°Once you all create this distraction, I''ll obtain what I require and come back to deliver on my promise,¡± Maxwell said, his voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at his insides.


    ¡°What¡¯s beyond that elevator anyway that you¡¯re so determined to reach?¡± Cynthia questioned, her sharp eyes narrowing with suspicion.


    ¡°That''s private information. Are you all ready?¡± Maxwell deflected, not willing to divulge more than necessary.


    The group nodded, their determination palpable. Maxwell''s heart pounded as he ran over to the guards, each step echoing his growing desperation. Behind him, chaos erupted in the lounge as the students began to brawl. Cynthia spun around, her threads slicing through the air with lethal precision. Rook countered her attacks with his tentacles, the two of them locked in a deadly dance of offense and defense.


    The twins, Sarah and Emily, darted around the room with agile swiftness, their movements a blur. Occasionally, their arms morphed into mantis-like scythes, slashing at anyone who came too close. The room was a whirlwind of motion, threads, tentacles, and scythes creating a chaotic symphony of violence. Maxwell used the commotion to his advantage, slipping past the distracted guards and making his way toward the elevator.


    The guards, initially bewildered by the sudden outbreak of violence, quickly sprang into action. Their shouts mingled with the sounds of the fight, orders barked and weapons drawn, though nothing lethal was used. One guard attempted to restrain Cynthia, only to be ensnared by her threads, his weapon clattering to the floor as he struggled to free himself.


    Rook seized the opportunity, his tentacles wrapping around the fallen weapon and flinging it across the room. The twins, seeing their chance, lunged at another guard, their scythes flashing. The guard managed to block their initial strike but was quickly overwhelmed by their relentless assault.


    Amidst the chaos, Maxwell reached the elevator. His hands trembled as he swiped the key card, the door sliding open with a quiet hiss. He glanced back, his heart heavy with guilt as he watched the others fight. He knew he was leaving them to deal with the consequences of his actions, but his survival depended on escaping this facility.


    As the elevator doors closed behind him, Maxwell took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. Unbeknownst to him, Frank''s eerie skin creature had been watching his every move, relaying the events back to its master.


    Meanwhile, in the lounge, the fight raged on. The guards, though initially caught off guard, began to regain control. They moved with practiced precision, coordinating their efforts to subdue the students. Cynthia and Rook found themselves increasingly on the defensive, their initial advantage waning.


    Sarah and Emily, sensing the tide turning against them, ran away, slipping past the guards as the others dealt with the guards. The guards finally managed to restrain Cynthia and Rook, pinning them to the ground as they struggled to break free.


    As the fight came to an end, the guards surveyed the wreckage of the lounge. The students lay defeated, their distraction ended as they hoped Maxwell succeeded. Maxwell, now safely hidden within the elevator, took a moment to collect himself. He knew he had bought himself some time, but he also knew that the real challenge was just beginning.


    As the elevator doors slid open at the top floor, Maxwell''s heart raced. Two guards stood vigilant, their eyes narrowing as they spotted him. Maxwell, undeterred and confident in his abilities, infused his aura into his back. With a swift, almost ethereal motion, his angelic wings sprouted, shimmering with latent energy.


    Maxwell¡¯s speed was unparalleled as he shot out of the elevator, his wings propelling him into the air. The guards reacted, but their movements seemed sluggish in comparison. Maxwell unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp feathers, each one a deadly projectile. The guards tried to dodge, their training kicking in, but the feathers moved too quickly. Sharp stings and cuts appeared on their arms and faces as they struggled to evade the onslaught.


    With a powerful flap of his wings, Maxwell soared higher before diving with lethal precision. His first target barely had time to react before Maxwell struck. A well-placed neck chop rendered the guard unconscious, his body crumpling to the ground. The second guard, driven by adrenaline and duty, lunged at Maxwell, his hands reaching out to grab him.


    Maxwell''s wings curled protectively around him, the sharp edges slicing through the guard¡¯s skin as he made contact. Blood trickled from the cuts, the pain forcing the guard to recoil. Seizing the opportunity, Maxwell spun around, his movements a blur. He darted past the guard, using his momentum to leap into the air. With a decisive, powerful chop to the back of the neck, he incapacitated the second guard, who fell beside his comrade, unconscious.


    Breathing heavily, Maxwell stood amidst the fallen guards, his wings slowly retracting. The corridor was silent, save for the distant hum of machinery and the faint sound of his own heartbeat. He had overcome this hurdle, but he knew the real challenge was yet to come.


    Maxwell sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, each step pounding heavily against the cold floor. The fatigue in his muscles was palpable, but he pushed through, driven by desperation. The corridor was eerily quiet, devoid of any guard presence, and the usual surveillance cameras seemed to be malfunctioning or turned off. The air was thick with tension as Maxwell¡¯s rapid breaths echoed against the walls. Despite his rapid pace, the lack of obstacles was both perplexing and unsettling.


    As he reached the end of the corridor, Maxwell skidded to a halt. His eyes widened in disbelief at the scene before him. Frank stood nonchalantly near the exit, surrounded by piles of unconscious guards strewn haphazardly across the floor. A streak of fresh blood marred his otherwise cheerful demeanor, his grin as unsettling as ever. The air was thick with an ominous calmness that sent shivers down Maxwell¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Do me a favor and don¡¯t tell anyone about this,¡± Frank said, his voice maintaining that unnerving cheerfulness. ¡°If you keep quiet, I¡¯ll overlook your little escape attempt and even ensure your ¡®friends¡¯ are pardoned for their rule-breaking.¡±


    Maxwell, his heart racing, struggled to keep his voice steady. ¡°Did you know all along that I stole your key card?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Frank replied with a nonchalant shrug. ¡°But don¡¯t be discouraged. My senses are quite acute. If you¡¯d tried this plan on anyone else in the facility, it might have worked.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s mind raced, grappling with the horrifying realization that Frank had anticipated every move. He glanced around at the unconscious guards, the blood stains, and the chilling certainty that Frank was far more dangerous than he appeared.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Frank continued with a casual air, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend trying to leave this facility.¡±


    Maxwell, trying to maintain his composure, shot back, ¡°Why not? The only one stopping me is you.¡±


    Frank chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and malice. ¡°Well, you see, you¡¯ve been unconscious for a year. The world outside has ended, and all the air is toxic. It will kill you instantly.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s face went pale, grappling with the enormity of the revelation. His mind raced, trying to process the staggering news. But before he could respond, Frank¡¯s grin widened. ¡°I¡¯m just kidding. That¡¯s the plot of a game I enjoy. In reality, there¡¯s a bomb implanted in your neck. If you try to escape, it will detonate. Sorry for the dark humor, but I promise, that part is not a joke.¡±


    The grim reality hit Maxwell like a sledgehammer, leaving him stunned and immobilized. Frank¡¯s forced cheerfulness only added to the surreal horror of his situation.


    ¡°You should head back to your room,¡± Frank said, his tone disarmingly calm as he gestured towards the hallway. ¡°Despite the chaos you caused, we have no intention of harming you. You¡¯re valuable to us, especially as an Awakened. Although it seems Octavian intentionally concealed that information from your files.¡±


    Maxwell''s face was a mask of utter defeat. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes, once filled with determination, were now hollow and resigned. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, each echo of his footsteps a reminder of his shattered hope. Frank¡¯s presence, by contrast, was almost jubilant. His smile remained wide and unsettlingly gleeful, as though he took pleasure in Maxwell¡¯s dejection.


    Frank led Maxwell down the corridor with an air of casual authority, the walls of the facility seeming to close in around them. The oppressive silence of the corridor was punctuated only by the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. The weight of Maxwell''s realization pressed down on him, each step a further reminder of the grim reality he faced. As they reached Maxwell¡¯s room, Frank¡¯s smile did not falter. It was a smile of victory, one that seemed to savor every moment of Maxwell¡¯s suffering.

 Chapter 12-Calm Before the Storm

    The castle stood as a formidable relic of the past, its imposing stone walls and towering spires casting long shadows over the rugged landscape. Hidden away in the misty hills, the ancient structure exuded an air of both grandeur and foreboding. Ivy climbed up the weathered stone, weaving a tapestry of green against the gray facade. The castle¡¯s architecture blended Gothic and medieval styles, with arched windows and intricate carvings that whispered secrets of centuries gone by. It was steeped in history, where the echoes of long-forgotten events still lingered in the air.


    Inside the castle, the meeting room was a stark contrast to the cold, stony exterior. Warm light from flickering torches and a grand chandelier illuminated the space, casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floors. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting legendary battles and mythical creatures, adding a touch of elegance and mystique. At the center of the room stood a magnificent round table, carved from dark oak and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver. Twelve high-backed chairs surrounded the table, each one a masterpiece of craftsmanship, upholstered in deep red velvet.


    Six of the twelve seats were filled, their occupants deep in discussion. The atmosphere was thick with tension and anticipation. The heavy wooden door at the far end of the room remained closed, ensuring their conversation stayed private. The flickering light danced off the faces of those present, revealing a mixture of determination and concern. As the meeting continued, the weight of their decisions pressed heavily upon them, knowing the impact they would have on the world outside the castle''s ancient walls.


    Alongside Nikolai, Scarlet, and Lucia, three other individuals joined them. The first was a formidable presence, a muscular man whose body was a canvas of red-inked tattoos forming the shape of crimson thorns wrapping around his limbs and torso. His left arm was a sophisticated prosthetic, seamlessly integrated into his flesh, giving him an aura of mechanical might. His head, whether a mask or his actual visage, took the shape of a black crow, with beady eyes that seemed to pierce through the dim light. This was Adam Knight, known in A.E.G.I.S¡¯s database by the codename, The Crow.


    Next to him sat a flamboyant figure, a blonde man who exuded an air of nonchalant confidence. He wore a top hat and a flowing black cloak, his attire completed by a sweater vest adorned with various trinkets and charms. His deep blue eyes were mostly hidden behind a white half-faced mask, with two red diamonds painted onto his face. His feet were casually propped up on the table as he played a game on a portable console, seemingly indifferent to the gravity of the meeting. This was Calum Nash, classified under the codename, The Mockingbird.


    The final figure was an enigma, their gender indeterminate. They wore a striking red mask over their face, and the rest of their body was concealed by a black cloak and layers of dark clothing. Atop their head sat a black straw hat, adding an old-world charm to their mysterious appearance. Around their neck hung a yellow necklace shaped like the sun, and in their hand, they held a golden scepter that gleamed under the torchlight. Their voice, when they spoke, was altered to obscure their identity further. Known only by their codename, The Hummingbird, their real name remained unknown, adding to the aura of mystery that surrounded them.


    As for the other three, Nikolai was classified as The Dove, Scarlet as The Phoenix, and Lucia as The Finch. Together, these six individuals formed a council of power and secrecy, each with their own distinct abilities and roles within the organization. The meeting room, with its rich tapestries and flickering torchlight, bore witness to their gathering, the air thick with the weight of unspoken agendas and hidden motives.


    ¡°I''ve called you all here to discuss the upcoming mission. On September 13th, only the six of us will participate. I didn''t feel the need to summon the others, especially since some of them are rather busy with their own missions,¡± Nikolai said calmly, his voice steady and authoritative.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, boss. Honestly, I want to get back to my room. Emelia and I were just about to beat that annoying boss we''ve been attempting for the last week,¡± Calum complained, lounging back in his chair.


    At that moment, Hummingbird slammed the base of their scepter to the ground. A sharp, piercing sound reverberated throughout the room, and the glass on Calum¡¯s game shattered. The last image displayed on the screen before it broke was ¡°Game Over.¡±


    ¡°What was that for, you masked bastard!¡± Calum yelled, glaring at Hummingbird.


    ¡°You need to learn some respect. This mission is important. We recently lost a member of our council. If you don''t pay attention, you will be next, brat,¡± Hummingbird''s cold, distorted voice responded, cutting through the tension like a knife.


    ¡°Thank you. If Emelia is here, can you request she come down? I understand she hates leaving her room, but the more we have, the better,¡± Nikolai requested, turning back to the matter at hand.


    Hummingbird nodded and spoke into their scepter before slamming it to the ground once more. A small orb of condensed sound was created, traveling throughout the castle. Moments later, a woman entered the room. She had long, purple hair adorned with various star hair clips, her locks messy and unkempt. Her eye was a deep purple, and an eye patch covered her left eye. She wore a matching set of black pajamas with golden stars, and heavy bags under her eyes indicating it had been a while since she''d slept. Within A.E.G.I.S¡¯s database, she was classified as The Witch.


    ¡°Alright, boss, what do you need? Also, Calum, I lost the game again. Sorry,¡± Emelia yawned, rubbing her tired eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, not like it isn¡¯t the thousandth time we¡¯ve lost,¡± Calum sighed, shaking his head.


    Nikolai observed the group, noting their varying degrees of readiness and commitment. ¡°This mission is critical,¡± he began, ¡°and I need everyone focused. We''ve faced setbacks, but failure is not an option this time. Our objective is clear, and we must execute it flawlessly.¡±


    The room fell silent, the gravity of Nikolai''s words sinking in. Emelia straightened, trying to shake off her drowsiness, while Calum reluctantly pocketed his broken game console. The others, equally aware of the stakes, nodded in agreement. The mission ahead would test their limits, but they knew that united, they stood a better chance of success.


    ¡°Boss, I thought you said I didn¡¯t need to participate in any missions. My foresight ability is enough to support you, right?¡± Emelia asked, settling into her chair, her arms resting wearily on the table.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re already invaluable. I wouldn¡¯t risk you dying in combat. I simply wanted you here to be part of the meeting and offer any suggestions you might have,¡± Nikolai reassured her.


    ¡°Hey, Nikolai, do I have to join you in going to the stupid Gamma facility? I''d much rather join Hummingbird in attacking the Alpha facility. I really want to see Marky again. I didn¡¯t get to talk with him last time,¡± Scarlet complained, her voice dripping with disdain.


    ¡°Markus will not be present on that day. He¡¯ll be making his monthly trip to Blood Inc. to meet with the five o¡¯clock chair. Our intel states that Blood Inc. has acquired a new member with an authority-type ability,¡± Nikolai replied.


    ¡°So, without Markus, my main worries will be the Saint and the Swan, right?¡± Hummingbird inquired, their tone calculating.


    ¡°Overall, yes. The Planter is meeting with the head of A.E.G.I.S., so he won¡¯t be present either. Most of the other Awakened can be handled by the other forces I assign to you. You simply must deal with those two and then kill Iris,¡± Nikolai instructed.


    Emelia, looking concerned, removed her eye patch, revealing her extraordinary eye. It seemed as if they were staring into the cosmos itself, a beautiful star system contained within it, glowing faintly. After a moment, she placed her eye patch back on, a worried expression crossing her face.


    ¡°I used my foresight ability, and I have bad news. To compensate for their two strongest agents being absent that day, the Slayer will be assigned there,¡± Emelia announced.


    ¡°Thank you for checking. That makes things more difficult. In terms of raw power, very few surpass her. A powerful meta-human fused with a dragon, who kills dragons for fun. On top of that, her berserker ability and artifacts make her quite difficult to deal with,¡± Nikolai admitted, his frustration evident.


    ¡°I will go with the masked bastard to assist in the attack on the Alpha facility. Adam can handle Octavian. He is the only major threat in the Beta Facility. Our forces can handle any other Awakened there and can easily kill Maxwell,¡± Calum volunteered.


    ¡°Aw, come on. If he gets to switch, why can¡¯t it be me?¡± Scarlet whined, clearly irritated.


    ¡°The Gamma facility is incredibly dangerous. If the attempts on the key''s lives fail, then securing Lovecraft is our highest priority,¡± Nikolai explained firmly, his tone brooking no argument.


    ¡°If I surround him, I can defeat Octavian. He only has his speed, after all. What¡¯s so valuable about this Lovecraft individual that you seem to care more for him than the keys?¡± Adam asked, his curiosity piqued.


    ¡°The keys can be obtained at any time, but that man and his overwhelming power will be sentenced to death very soon. I¡¯d like him to join our council,¡± Nikolai replied, his tone cold and calculated.


    ¡°To confirm where I must bring everyone, Dove and Phoenix will invade the Gamma facility to obtain Lovecraft and other death row inmates who wish to join us. Mockingbird and Hummingbird will attack the Alpha facility to kill Iris. Lastly, Crow will attack the Beta Facility and kill Maxwell,¡± Lucia recited nervously, her voice wavering slightly.


    ¡°Yes, that is correct. But could you drop me off in Italy? I really want pasta,¡± Emelia requested, her voice casual and tired.


    ¡°Please do it. Her leaving the castle is a rarity, we must encourage it,¡± Nikolai said, his tone taking on a rare note of gentle insistence.


    ¡°Y-yes, boss,¡± Lucia stammered, tears beginning to fill her eyes as she thought about the immense energy the entire mission would require.


    ¡°Lastly, I¡¯ve requested that Diamond look into that man, Nihil. I¡¯ll make sure to kill that bastard for getting in the way,¡± Nikolai said, a fierce anger filling his eyes.


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    As he said this, the meeting came to a dramatic end. Each of the candles in the room extinguished one by one, casting the chamber into darkness. The members of the council left the room, some preparing for the upcoming mission, while others sought moments of relaxation before the storm ahead.


    Meanwhile, as this sinister meeting unfolded in the depths of the castle, Maxwell slept fitfully in his room. Exhausted from his escape attempt, he tossed and turned, his mind plagued by fragmented nightmares of an event he couldn¡¯t fully recall. Shadows of seven others haunted his dreams, a betrayal, his own death, none of their faces or the specifics of that day were clear. The images were fleeting, leaving him with a lingering sense of dread and confusion.


    The next morning, Maxwell awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and disoriented. His stomach growled, a reminder of his hunger. Dragging himself out of bed, he made his way to the cafeteria. The room was a dull, uninspired space, with drab walls painted a monotonous beige and flickering fluorescent lights casting an unflattering glare. The linoleum floor was scuffed and stained, evidence of countless students shuffling through day after day. The long tables and uncomfortable plastic chairs only added to the sense of mediocrity.


    Maxwell grabbed a tray and joined the queue, the smell of overcooked eggs and bland oatmeal filling his nostrils. He placed a scoop of the mediocre scrambled eggs onto his tray, their rubbery texture and pale color hardly appetizing. Looking around the room, his eyes landed on Cynthia, who was sitting alone at a corner table, picking at her food absentmindedly. Deciding he could use some company, Maxwell walked over and sat down across from her, offering a weary smile.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Maxwell said, his voice still rough from sleep.


    Cynthia looked up, her expression softening slightly. ¡°It''s a shame your attempt to get in the elevator didn''t work, but for some reason after we were brought to Octavian''s office, he chose to let us go. It was really weird.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good at least, though sadly I no longer have the key card. It got taken away just as I was about to succeed,¡± Maxwell complained, his frustration evident.


    ¡°That¡¯s about what I expected,¡± Cynthia sighed. ¡°Our classes are starting tomorrow, but would you like to join me and the rest of our classmates for some early training?¡±


    ¡°Sure, I don¡¯t have much appetite for this gross food anyway,¡± Maxwell said, standing up and pushing his tray away.


    Cynthia nodded, and they left the dreary cafeteria behind, making their way to the nearby gymnasium. It was a standard-looking gymnasium, the kind you''d find in a typical school. The walls were lined with aging basketball hoops, and the wooden floor, though polished, showed signs of wear and tear. The air was filled with the faint smell of sweat and rubber. The more advanced combat areas were reserved for older trainees, making this gymnasium feel somewhat mundane in comparison.


    As they entered the room, Maxwell spotted Noah, Rook, the twins, and Ashe already waiting. By pure coincidence, all the individuals Maxwell ran into yesterday were members of his class. Noah was doing light stretches, his cane resting against a nearby wall. Rook was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his green-tinted skin contrasting sharply with the dullness of the gym. The twins were engaged in a playful spar, their identical features making it hard to tell who was who. Ashe was leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°Looks like we have quite the group,¡± Maxwell remarked, a small smile playing on his lips.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s good to have everyone here,¡± Cynthia said. ¡°Let¡¯s make the most of this session.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking that we should engage in a bit of sparring between us,¡± Rook suggested, standing up. ¡°The groups will be as such: the twins will face each other, Ashe and I will fight, and lastly Maxwell and Cynthia will face off. Due to our odd numbers, Noah will join in on the second round, we will continue this tournament sparing until we have one winner¡±


    They each agreed, breaking off into their respective groups. Over in a corner, Sarah and Emily began their fight, their movements almost identical, reflecting their close bond as twins.


    The two girls squared off, their eyes locked in intense concentration. In unison, their arms transformed into sharp, green mantis scythes, glinting under the gymnasium lights. Sarah was the first to move, lunging forward with a swift, horizontal slash aimed at Emily¡¯s midsection. Emily parried effortlessly, their scythes clashing with a metallic ring.


    Emily retaliated with a series of rapid strikes, each one aimed to test Sarah¡¯s defenses. Sarah blocked and dodged with equal speed, the two moving in a deadly dance of mirrored precision. They seemed to anticipate each other¡¯s moves, their attacks, and counters flowing seamlessly. The scythes sliced through the air with a hiss, leaving faint green trails behind.


    Their fight grew more intense as they pushed each other to the limits. Sarah feinted left, then pivoted right, her scythe slicing downward in a powerful arc. Emily barely managed to sidestep, her own scythe whipping up to deflect the blow. The impact sent a shockwave through their arms, but neither flinched. They continued their duel, the sound of their scythes clanging filling the gym.


    Despite their identical abilities, subtle differences in their fighting styles began to emerge. Sarah favored aggressive, sweeping strikes, aiming to overpower her sister with sheer force. Emily, on the other hand, employed a more tactical approach, using precise, controlled movements to exploit any openings in Sarah¡¯s defense.


    As the fight progressed, their breathing grew heavier, but their determination never wavered. Emily saw an opening and took it, lunging forward with both scythes aimed at Sarah''s torso. Sarah crossed her scythes to block, but the force of Emily¡¯s attack pushed her back a few steps.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting better,¡± Sarah admitted, a small smile playing on her lips despite the intensity of the fight.


    ¡°So are you,¡± Emily replied, her eyes gleaming with respect and competitiveness.


    With renewed vigor, they launched into a final flurry of attacks, each sister giving their all. The gymnasium echoed with the sound of their scythes clashing, a symphony of sharp, metallic notes. Just as it seemed the match would end in a stalemate, Emily executed a swift, cunning maneuver. She feinted high, then swept low, her scythe slicing towards Sarah''s legs with lightning speed. The unexpected move caught Sarah off guard, and she stumbled, losing her balance and falling to the ground.


    Emily was quick to capitalize on her advantage, her blade pressing lightly against Sarah¡¯s neck before she could recover. The edge of the scythe gleamed menacingly, a testament to Emily''s victory. Sarah looked up at her sister, a mixture of frustration and pride in her eyes.


    Emily extended a hand to help Sarah up, a triumphant yet respectful smile on her face. Sarah took it, pulling herself to her feet with a nod of acknowledgment.


    ¡°Nice move,¡± Sarah said, brushing off the dust.


    ¡°Thanks. You almost had me,¡± Emily replied, her smile widening.


    While the twins clashed, Rook and Ashe squared off, readying themselves for their own bout. Rook''s tentacles unfurled from his arms, writhing and twitching with a life of their own, while Ashe¡¯s eyes glinted with a steely determination, the surrounding air subtly tinged with the scent of iron from his blood manipulation.


    Rook made the first move, his tentacles darting forward like snakes, aiming to ensnare Ashe. Ashe responded with a swift motion of his hand, and tendrils of his own blood shot out, hardening midair to parry the incoming tentacles. The two forces collided, creating a spectacle of organic and blood-crafted appendages clashing in a fierce dance.


    Ashe shifted his stance, summoning more blood from a concealed wound on his arm. He shaped the blood into sharp, spear-like projections, launching them at Rook with deadly precision. Rook deflected most of them with his tentacles, but one managed to graze his shoulder, drawing a thin line of crimson.


    Rook gritted his teeth, using the pain to fuel his determination. He retaliated by splitting his tentacles into multiple smaller ones, overwhelming Ashe¡¯s defenses with sheer numbers. Ashe struggled to keep up, his blood constructs barely managing to block the relentless assault.


    Seeing an opening, Rook seized the opportunity and ensnared Ashe''s legs with his tentacles, pulling him off balance. Ashe crashed to the ground, but quickly rolled to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he summoned a wave of blood to push Rook back. The force of the wave sent Rook staggering, but he quickly regained his footing, launching himself at Ashe with renewed ferocity.


    As the fight reached its climax, Rook''s tentacles wrapped tightly around Ashe''s body, lifting him off the ground. Victory seemed imminent for Rook as he prepared to deliver the final blow. However, a sudden change came over Ashe. His eyes glowed a bright, unnatural blue, and in an instant, Rook found himself unable to move.


    At that moment, blood escaped from Ashe''s body and spun around him like a crimson whirlwind. The blood slashed and destroyed the tentacles, severing them with razor-sharp precision. Ashe''s eyes returned to their normal color as he landed gracefully on the ground, his stance firm and controlled. Rook fell to the floor, his arms regenerating back to normal, only to find a sword of blood held firmly at his neck.


    ¡°You almost had me there,¡± Ashe said, a hint of admiration in his voice. ¡°I needed to use my secret weapon.¡±


    He laughed, the tension of the fight dissipating in an instant. Rook, breathing heavily, looked up at Ashe, a mix of frustration and respect in his eyes.


    ¡°Well, that was something,¡± Rook admitted, a reluctant smile forming on his lips. ¡°Guess I underestimated you.¡±


    Ashe extended a hand to help Rook up. ¡°We both fought well.¡±


    Rook took Ashe''s hand, and the two stood up, ready to see who would emerge victorious in the final round.


    Finally, it was time for the battle between Cynthia and Maxwell. The atmosphere in the gymnasium grew tense as the two opponents faced each other, their eyes locked in mutual determination.


    Maxwell''s angel wings unfurled, each feather sharp as a blade, glinting menacingly under the gymnasium lights. His hypercognition kicked in, analyzing every possible move Cynthia could make. Cynthia, on the other hand, stood poised and ready, her fingers twitching as webs of thin, yet strong, threads extended from her hands, forming intricate patterns around her.


    Without warning, Cynthia launched her first attack, sending a flurry of webs toward Maxwell. He reacted instantly, his wings flapping with incredible speed, slicing through the webs before they could entangle him. Cynthia continued her assault, weaving more threads in a desperate attempt to catch Maxwell, but he dodged and countered with swift, precise movements.


    Maxwell retaliated by launching a volley of razor-sharp feathers in Cynthia''s direction. She deftly dodged most of them, using her webs to deflect the rest. The two combatants moved fluidly, almost like dancers, each trying to outmaneuver the other. Cynthia managed to entangle Maxwell''s arm for a brief moment, but he quickly severed the web with a powerful flap of his wings.


    The fight continued, both of them pushing their limits. Cynthia attempted to trap Maxwell in a web cocoon, but he saw through her strategy, using his hypercognition to predict her movements. With a swift maneuver, he closed the distance between them, his wings slashing through the webs like butter. Cynthia found herself on the defensive, struggling to keep up with Maxwell''s relentless attacks.


    In a final, desperate move, Cynthia created a massive web net and hurled it at Maxwell. He responded by taking to the air, rising high above the gymnasium floor. As the web reached its apex, Maxwell dove with blinding speed, his wings cutting through the net and closing the distance to Cynthia in an instant.


    Before she could react, Maxwell landed behind her, his wings wrapping around her in a tight, but non-lethal, embrace. He gently but firmly pressed a sharp feather against her neck, signaling his victory.


    Cynthia sighed in defeat, a small smile playing on her lips. ¡°You got me, Maxwell. What a one-sided fight.¡±


    As the sparring rounds concluded, a man walked into the gymnasium, clapping slowly. He had curly blonde hair and yellow eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Dressed in a sleek black suit with red gloves on each hand, he carried a coffin on his back.


    ¡°Oh good, I was looking for my students to talk with each of them before the fun tomorrow, and it looks like you''ve all gathered together. I am Ivan Osborne, but you can just call me Mr. Osborne,¡± Ivan said, setting his coffin down and using it as a chair.


    Maxwell''s senses tingled, picking up the unmistakable aura of danger emanating from Ivan and the mysterious coffin he lugged around.


    ¡°Please continue your fights; I''ll say what I need to afterward,¡± Ivan said, his tone dismissive yet authoritative.


    The students exchanged uneasy glances before resuming their training. Ashe and Maxwell squared off, while Noah and Emily prepared to face each other.

 Chapter 13-Memories of an Avoidable Future

    As the night wore on, Iris found herself pacing in her room, the lamp casting ominous shadows across the room. The red book lay on her desk, its cover still partially open, as if beckoning her to delve deeper into its dark secrets. The weight of the future self¡¯s message pressed down on her, mingling with the strange sense of familiarity she felt towards the book. It was a connection that transcended time, a haunting reminder of the choices she had yet to make and the consequences she would have to face.


    Her mind raced with thoughts of the book''s enigmatic power. It had drawn her in, granting her the power to save her life. But now, with the warning echoing in her mind, Iris was faced with an impossible choice. The temptation to uncover the truth was almost unbearable, yet the fear of the unknown consequences held her back. She knew that one wrong move could alter her destiny in ways she couldn''t foresee, potentially leading her down a path of darkness and despair.


    With a heavy sigh, Iris closed the red book and locked it away in a drawer, her hands trembling as she did so. She couldn''t shake the feeling that the red book had already set events into motion, like a catalyst waiting to unleash its full potential. The paradox of her future self''s advice, both urging her to use the book and warning against it, left her more confused and anxious than ever. What could have driven her future self to send such a cryptic message? And what was the true nature of the price that came with the book¡¯s power?


    After a while, Iris finally collapsed onto her bed, exhaustion overtaking her. The questions continued to swirl in her mind, but for now, she had no answers. All she could do was wait and hope that, when the time came, she would know what to do. The book, with its mysteries and promises, would remain locked away, at least, for now.


    Time passed in a blur of routine and fleeting moments of contemplation for Iris. The unsettling encounter with the book lingered at the back of her mind, like an unsolved puzzle she couldn''t quite set aside. She tried to focus on the daily responsibilities that grounded her, but the memory of that cryptic message from her future self haunted her dreams. A day later, she chose to look through the red book, not to draw upon its power but to seek answers on what its uses and price truly were.


    The red book was a mysterious artifact, its cover a deep crimson hue that seemed to pulse with an eerie energy. The material felt almost organic, warm to the touch, as if it were alive. Its surface was adorned with intricate golden filigree, curling and twisting like vines around a central emblem, a symbol that was both mesmerizing and unsettling, evoking a sense of ancient, forbidden knowledge. The pages inside were made of a parchment-like material, aged and yellowed, exuding an aura of antiquity and mystique.


    The contents of the book were written in an unknown language, filled with arcane symbols and cryptic runes that defied comprehension. It was a script that seemed to dance and shift on the page, as if hiding its secrets from unworthy eyes. Iris could only decipher the meaning through the vivid illustrations that adorned each page. These illustrations were intricate and detailed, each one depicting a different object or scene, a bow shimmering with ethereal light, a pair of wings unfurling as if ready for flight, and a sword engulfed in flames. Each picture hinted at the powers that could be summoned from the book, offering a glimpse into its vast potential. However, despite the clarity of these images, the book did not indicate the price for using these abilities. The absence of this crucial information left Iris with a deep sense of unease, as if the book itself was withholding the most important truth.


    Each night, Iris received a message from her future self through the enigmatic red book. These messages, filled with cryptic hints and poignant reflections, often spoke of memories that had yet to occur, each one about a different classmate. One particular message stood out, evoking a mix of emotions that left Iris both intrigued and embarrassed.


    ¡°Charles, at one point I only thought of him as an annoying distraction, someone who would disrupt class each day. He¡¯d try to throw a desk at the teacher only to get defeated, yet he had more desire to become stronger than anyone else. The more I learned about him, the more I felt sorry for him. His parents were bad people, but he never knew that, he was just a kid and A.E.G.I.S took his parents from him. If you can, comfort him and try to become someone for him to rely on. He never made any friends, the only time he had someone was when the class would drag him to hang out together. I have a soft spot for him, he was our first kiss, after all.


    ¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell¡±


    As Iris read these words, a deep blush spread across her face. The revelation was unexpected, not just for the intimate detail of a first kiss, but also for the insight into Charles'' life and struggles. She had never considered him more than an occasional nuisance, yet here was a future self hinting at a deeper connection and understanding. The mention of their first kiss left her flustered, a surge of emotions she couldn''t quite place washing over her. Why had her future self included such a personal detail? Was it a gentle nudge toward a future that held more than she could currently comprehend, or simply a fond memory shared out of nostalgia? The message lingered in her mind, adding another layer to the mystery of her future self''s intentions and the enigmatic nature of the red book.


    The next morning, after classes, Iris decided to seek Charles out, curious about what her future self had seen in him. She found him alone in one of the lounges, a rare sight since he usually kept to himself. The room was empty, likely because Charles had scared everyone else away. He sat on a worn-out couch, engrossed in a cartoon playing on the TV, the colorful animations a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to surround him.


    ¡°Hey, Charles, funny running into you here,¡± Iris greeted, trying to sound casual despite her intentional search for him.


    Charles glanced at her with a glare, then looked away. ¡°Get out now. I don''t want to be around any of you unless I have to,¡± he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. As he spoke, small objects near him began to levitate, a subtle display of his telekinetic power.


    Iris ignored the hostile tone and took a step closer. ¡°Why are you always pushing everyone away? I just want to be your friend,¡± she said, her voice filled with concern.


    Charles''s eyes darkened, and he clenched his fists. ¡°You¡¯re all nothing more than a bunch of idiots, blindly trusting A.E.G.I.S. I heard about how most of the people here were ''rescued.'' They always show up at your worst moments, but never prevent them. But for me, it was even worse, they caused it,¡± he spat out, a single tear escaping from his eye.


    Iris felt a pang of empathy. ¡°Charles¡­ I understand how you feel. I won''t deny I have some resentment for them not saving my parents, but isolating yourself and holding onto that anger won''t fix anything,¡± she pleaded, hoping to reach him.


    In an instant, a pen lifted by Charles''s telekinesis shot toward Iris, narrowly missing her head and embedding itself in the wall. ¡°Just get out, please, get out!¡± Charles shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. More objects began to float around him, TV remotes, pencils, and books all swirling in a chaotic dance. They hovered menacingly, poised to be hurled at any moment.


    Iris stood her ground, her heart pounding. She realized that beneath Charles''s anger and hostility was a deep well of pain and fear. She had touched a nerve, but she couldn''t leave him like this. As the objects floated threateningly around them, she knew she had to find a way to reach him, to show him that he wasn''t alone, no matter how hard he tried to push everyone away.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one being an idiot, Charles!¡± Iris shouted, her voice unwavering with determination. ¡°What¡¯s your big plan to avenge your parents? Get tied up by the teachers every day until you get lucky enough to defeat them? And then what? You¡¯ll just end up like your parents, committing a horrible crime and facing the consequences.¡±


    Charles''s face contorted with rage, and all the objects in the room, books, chairs, and even the TV, rose into the air, swirling around him in a violent maelstrom. The room was filled with the sound of whirring and crashing, and it seemed that at any moment, the storm of debris would come hurtling toward Iris.


    ¡°If you want revenge, stop this stupid behavior,¡± Iris continued, her voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°Train properly, pay attention in class, and become stronger. Take over this entire place and reform it if you hate how they do things. Or, at the very least, become so invaluable to them that they have to listen. You see how Mr. Markus is, a complete goofball around us. Many people here are annoyed by him, yet they''re all in awe of his strength. You¡¯re easily one of the strongest in our class, so do it! Become stronger than anyone and fix this place!¡±


    Charles''s fury began to wane, his eyes flickering with doubt. ¡°D-do you really think I can do it?¡± he asked, his voice wavering.


    ¡°Of course I do, you dummy,¡± Iris replied, a reassuring smile spreading across her face.


    As her words sunk in, Charles''s anger fully dissipated. The objects that had been levitating in the air suddenly dropped to the ground with a deafening crash, utterly wrecking the room. The noise of the destruction echoed around them, but the tension in the air had lifted.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here quickly,¡± Charles said, grabbing Iris¡¯s hand. They bolted out of the room together, not wanting to face the consequences of the mess they''d just caused.


    As they ran through the hallways, Charles''s eyes sparkled with a newfound determination. ¡°Fine, I¡¯m going to become so strong I take over this horrible place. I''ll kick out the leader and make it better.¡±


    ¡°I''ll support you the entire way,¡± Iris said cheerfully, her heart light with the thought of a future where Charles could find his place and make a difference.


    Later that night, Iris decided to start a diary, choosing a blue notebook as its vessel. If the red book detailed the important future, then this blue book would hold the essence of her present and past. With deliberate care, she began chronicling the events of her day, hoping to capture every nuance of her experiences. Just as she finished the first few lines, a new message from her future self arrived, materializing in a familiar, eerie fashion.


    ¡°What an odd method you used, but I liked it. I should mention, that while the changes you make will not fix my timeline, I will be aware of what happens. The devil I made this pact with is connected with the version of himself in your time, so he is aware of any changes you make. He has decided to let me keep sending you messages as long as I do not reveal his identity. Charles will be a great ally, and this time, for you, he won''t die alone because he refused to be a part of a team with anyone. So, thank you.¡±


    Iris''s eyes scanned the message, and her heart sank at the thought of her classmates'' potential fates in her future self''s timeline. A sense of urgency gripped her, the weight of responsibility growing heavier. How many of them had met a tragic end? Would she be able to save them all?


    Continuing with the letter, she read the next part, which was about another classmate.


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    ¡°Jacob, he was always a happy child, so energetic. Of our entire class, besides us, he is the sole survivor. Overall, he is the least likely to worry about; however, please note that the changes you will make may lead to unforeseen consequences. He once told me a wish, one that he would like you to grant. Please gather the class and watch a movie together. While Charles did join a few group events, it was difficult, and Jacob always wanted the class to bond together. So, please, grant his wish.


    ¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell¡±


    Iris sighed deeply as she put down the red book, her mind racing with thoughts and questions. The weight of her future self''s message lingered in the air, filling her with a mix of dread and determination. She felt an overwhelming urge to protect her classmates, to change the course of their destinies. Her mind buzzed with possibilities and plans as she considered how to honor Jacob''s wish. Amid her thoughts, a resolve began to form, she would do everything in her power to ensure a better future for all of them, even if it meant rewriting their fates.


    The next day in class, everything seemed surprisingly calm. Mrs. Stone usually braced for some disruptive antics from Charles, was taken aback to see him quietly engaged. He didn''t throw any objects or make sarcastic remarks; instead, he took notes and participated in discussions. It was a pleasant shock, but she still found herself warily waiting for some kind of outburst. Nonetheless, she was pleased to see such a positive change in his behavior.


    As the day drew to a close and everyone began to pack up, Iris sprang into action. Climbing onto her desk for a bit of dramatic flair, she caught everyone''s attention.


    ¡°Wait, wait, before everyone leaves, I have a request,¡± Iris called out, her voice carrying across the room.


    ¡°What is it? Also, be careful up there,¡± Jacob asked, glancing up at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.


    ¡°I want to watch a movie with everyone,¡± Iris declared, her tone decisive.


    ¡°Ooh, what kind of movie?¡± Jacob responded, his excitement evident.


    ¡°How about a fantasy?¡± Alice suggested, her voice thoughtful.


    ¡°A-anything but horror is fine with me,¡± Celia added, a slight tremor in her voice.


    ¡°As long as my sister enjoys it, I¡¯m fine watching anything,¡± Theo chimed in, nodding in agreement.


    ¡°Ooh, ooh! Since we''re practically superheroes already with our powers, how about a hero movie?¡± Jacob exclaimed, his enthusiasm contagious.


    ¡°I''m fine with anything with action, so I''ll agree,¡± Charles said, his voice steady and surprisingly cooperative.


    The group exchanged glances, stunned by Charles''s unexpected willingness to join in. His participation was a rare occurrence, and it brought a ripple of surprised smiles and nods.


    ¡°I''m fine with this as well,¡± Alice said, smiling. ¡°I''ve read a couple of comic books when Wallace was giving me a check-up. I guess Markus occasionally leaves them there by accident.¡±


    ¡°Can we get snacks first?¡± Xavier asked, his eyes lighting up at the thought.


    ¡°Of course, since everyone has agreed, we''re going to watch a superhero movie!¡± Iris announced, jumping for joy on top of her desk. Her excitement was palpable as she beamed at her classmates.


    However, as she bounced a bit too energetically, her balance faltered, and she began to topple off the desk. The room gasped collectively, but just before she could hit the ground, a sudden surge of telekinetic force gently lifted her back into the air. Charles''s telekinesis had intervened, holding Iris aloft with a subtle, but effective grace.


    Charles, his eyes twinkling with a rare hint of amusement, quipped, ¡°Here I thought I was the dummy here.¡± His teasing tone broke the tension in the room, and a few chuckles erupted from the group.


    Iris, momentarily stunned by the unexpected rescue, quickly regained her composure and joined in the laughter. ¡°Thanks, Charles! I guess I owe you one.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Charles replied, his usual scowl replaced by a small, genuine smile. ¡°Just don¡¯t make a habit of falling off desks.¡±


    With everyone on board, the mood in the room lightened. The idea of a group movie night brought a sense of camaraderie, a chance for them to bond outside the pressures of their unusual circumstances. As they began to discuss movie options and snacks, Iris felt a small sense of accomplishment. She had taken a step toward fulfilling her future self''s wishes and bringing her classmates closer together.


    As the seven friends entered the movie theater, their eyes were immediately drawn to a vibrant, eye-catching poster that dominated the entrance wall. The poster was a dazzling display of superhero grandeur, showcasing the film they had all eagerly agreed upon: *Wonderman, The Man of Titanium*.


    At the center of the poster stood Wonderman, portrayed by none other than Markus. He was depicted in a striking red jumpsuit that gleamed under the spotlight, complemented by a flowing blue cape that billowed heroically behind him. His muscular physique was accentuated by the sleek, metallic sheen of his suit, hinting at the titular ¡°titanium¡± element of his persona.


    The suit featured a bold, silver ¡°W¡± emblazoned across the chest, its design a fusion of classic superhero aesthetics and futuristic technology. Markus''s expression was one of determined intensity, his eyes focused and piercing, capturing the essence of a true hero ready to face any challenge. The background of the poster was a dynamic swirl of colors, with hints of explosions and high-tech cityscapes, setting the stage for an action-packed adventure.


    ¡°Yeah, A.E.G.I.S owns just about everything superhero-related,¡± Markus explained with a hint of resignation. ¡°Both M.C. and Darvel are under their control. The comics and movies generate a lot of revenue. I lost a bet with the boss, so now I''m stuck playing ''Wonderman.'' He¡¯s a hero from the planet Argon.¡±


    ¡°Why does A.E.G.I.S control both major movie franchises?¡± Charles asked, his curiosity piqued.


    Markus shrugged. ¡°Originally, the boss wanted to send a message that using your powers as a ¡®superhero¡¯ would inevitably bring harm to your loved ones. But the genre became so popular that A.E.G.I.S decided to dive into it. Now, they have a whole branch dedicated to creating these comics and movies. Plus, you''d be surprised how many Awakened joined just to handle the special effects themselves.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°Can you join us in watching the movie?¡±


    Markus gave a half-hearted nod. ¡°Sure, let me just grab Wallace and Jonathan,¡± he said, turning to walk away.


    Markus returned with Wallace and Jonathan in tow, and without waiting for their input, led the group to a row of seats. Once everyone was settled with popcorn and drinks, the theater lights dimmed, and the screen flickered to life.


    The opening scene of *Wonderman, The Man of Titanium* burst onto the screen with a kaleidoscope of colors and sound. The film¡¯s retro aesthetic was a nod to the 1970s sci-fi era, complete with exaggerated special effects that clearly showcased the talents of A.E.G.I.S¡¯s Awakened.


    The movie''s narrator introduced Wonderman, a hero from the tumultuous planet Argon. The visuals depicted a world in chaos, with planets and asteroids colliding in slow-motion. Despite the campy feel, the special effects were impressive, thanks to the high level of expertise involved.


    Markus, in his role as Wonderman, appeared on screen in a striking red jumpsuit and a flowing blue cape. The character struck dramatic poses, his suit¡¯s silver ¡°W¡± gleaming with each flex. Wonderman¡¯s powers¡ªsuper strength and ice beams shot from his eyes¡ªwere showcased in an over-the-top display of stunts and battles. Villains, some of whom were played by A.E.G.I.S agents, provided ample opportunities for Wonderman to demonstrate his heroic prowess.


    The plot was straightforward but entertaining: Wonderman fought to thwart the evil plans of Commander Jod, who aimed to transform Earth into a replica of his home planet, Argon. The climax saw Wonderman imprisoning Commander Jod in the ¡°Spectral Area,¡± a realm of eternal confinement.


    As the credits rolled and the theater lights gradually brightened, the group was filled with a mix of laughter and satisfaction. The movie, while campy, provided a welcome distraction and a moment of camaraderie among friends.


    As the group began to leave the theater, Wallace¡¯s mood shifted from amusement to disbelief. ¡°I have to say, that was a great movie. When¡¯s the next one, Markus?¡± he asked, a teasing grin on his face.


    Markus chuckled. ¡°Well, they¡¯re rebooting the franchise, so you¡¯ll have to wait for the next heroes to get their movies. And yes, I heard you¡¯ll be playing the ¡®Neon Lamp.¡¯¡± His laughter rang with a hint of mischief.


    A blank expression settled on Wallace¡¯s face. ¡°Wait a minute, what do you mean I¡¯m getting stuck playing that? The boss can¡¯t do this, right?¡±


    Jonathan, who had been quietly observing, stepped in. ¡°Since you¡¯re technically under my jurisdiction and employment, I signed off on it.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh come on, why did I get the ¡®Neon Lamp¡¯? The last one bombed. And if I become a movie star, won¡¯t missions be more difficult? No way, they can¡¯t make me do this,¡± he said, trying to convince himself.


    Markus smirked. ¡°They used makeup to slightly alter my face and gave me a fake name, though ''Valentine'' as a last name already sounds like a stage name, to be honest.¡±


    Wallace slumped in his seat, a look of defeat spreading across his face. The rest of the class gathered their things, chuckling and chatting as they exited the theater. As they walked out, a post-credit scene played, a mysterious pod that resembled the one Wonderman had arrived in, hinting at future adventures.


    Later that night, Iris settled into her room, pulling out her blue diary. She carefully wrote down the day''s events, capturing the camaraderie and the amusing turn of events involving Wallace. Once her daily log was complete, she set the diary aside and waited for her nightly message from her future self. The familiar chill of anticipation settled over her as the message began to appear.


    As Iris opened the red book and look at the message from her future self, she felt a weight settle over her heart. The words were both poignant and cryptic, revealing glimpses into a future she was determined to change.


    ¡°The Wonderman movie, a good choice. My first date with Maxwell was to see ¡®Virtue Alliance 3,¡¯ a crossover event featuring Wonderman and all the other heroes. Markus¡¯s acting was never exceptional after his first movie, which is hardly surprising given what happened. I hope you can alter that event as well, but that task is for another day.¡±


    Iris¡¯s heart raced. Who was Maxwell? And why did her future self seem to reveal so much about past relationships? The more pressing issue was Markus¡¯s mysterious past and the hint at an unresolved event. She pushed those thoughts aside and continued to the next part of the letter.


    ¡°The lonely winter child, Xavier. His parents were A.E.G.I.S. scientists, leaving him by himself in his empty home most of the time. His birthday was perpetually forgotten, and he often found solace only in his dreams, where his parents seemed to be present. One year, we decided to make up for lost time by celebrating each other''s birthdays. Charles even joined in, although Xavier¡¯s birthday remained a secret at that time. He had gone so long without celebrating it, he had given up on ever doing so. We eventually discovered it, but on that very day, we were called out on a mission we ended up running into world¡¯s strongest monster, the Boogeyman. Xavier perished in my arms while trying to protect me. We can seek justice for his future self in due time, but for now, please give him the birthday celebration he never had. His birthday is tomorrow. Good luck, and cherish these fleeting yet precious moments.


    ¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell¡±


    Iris gently closed the red book, the weight of its revelations settling heavily on her shoulders. The gravity of Xavier''s tragic fate and the poignant request for a belated birthday celebration stirred a profound mix of sorrow and resolve within her. Her future self¡¯s plea was not just a call to action, but a heartfelt reminder of the fragile nature of their lives and the bonds they shared.


    She took a deep breath, allowing the quiet of her room to envelop her. The night seemed to hold its breath with her, the only sounds the soft rustling of the book¡¯s pages and her own steadying heartbeat. Iris felt the burden of responsibility settle over her like a cloak, but it was a burden she was willing to bear. The vision of her friends'' futures, stained by loss and tragedy, fueled her determination to rewrite their destinies.


    Tomorrow, she would throw Xavier the birthday party he had been denied, a celebration filled with laughter, warmth, and the joy they all needed. It would be a small victory, but one that could shift the balance of their collective fate. She vowed to make this day special, to honor the memory of her future fallen friend, and to strengthen the bonds among her classmates.

 Chapter 14-Celebration

    As Iris closed the red book, a daunting realization settled over her like a heavy fog. Planning a birthday party in a single day seemed almost impossible. The clock was ticking, and the enormity of the task loomed large in her mind. Panic began to creep in, threatening to paralyze her with indecision. She could almost hear the seconds slipping away, each one a reminder of the precious time she had left to make Xavier''s birthday special.


    But then, a steely resolve took root within her. This wasn''t just about a celebration, it was about honoring a memory and fulfilling a promise. Her future self''s wish, the silent plea for a different outcome, resonated deeply within her. Iris knew she couldn''t let fear or doubt hold her back. She had to act, and she had to do it now.


    Taking a deep breath, Iris pushed aside the encroaching panic and focused on what needed to be done. She began mentally organizing the essentials, decorations, a cake, gifts, and a venue. She would need help, and fast. But for her friends and the chance to change their fate, she was ready to tackle any obstacle. Iris felt a surge of determination. Today was not just about throwing a party, it was about creating a cherished memory and laying the groundwork for a brighter future.


    She quickly began working with a newfound sense of purpose, determined to make this day unforgettable for everyone, especially Xavier. The race against time had begun, but Iris was ready to meet the challenge head-on, driven by the hope that she could alter the course of their intertwined destinies.


    Iris quickly bolted out of her room, urgency propelling her forward. Noticing the elevator was full, she leaped over the railing, her heart pounding. With a flick of her wrist, flames erupted around her, slowing her descent. The fire left scorching marks on the floor as she landed, adding yet another instance of property damage to her growing list. It was a miracle she hadn''t been reprimanded yet, but right now, that was the least of her concerns.


    She sprinted down the corridors, her small flames boosting her speed. The scorch marks traced her path, a fiery trail that led to Wallace''s office. She was sure Wallace and Markus would help her with her plan. As she approached the office, Iris heard a familiar voice, Fate. She quickly hid behind the door, her curiosity piqued.


    ¡°Well, I should take my leave, I dislike being away from my library for too long,¡± Fate said, his tone dismissive as he prepared to leave.


    ¡°Wait a minute, you''re not leaving until you answer my question!¡± Wallace''s voice was firm, laced with frustration.


    ¡°I refuse to answer any questions related to her. No matter what, I will not answer,¡± Fate responded, equally frustrated.


    ¡°Why now? You''ve offered the answer to every question we''ve ever asked before. What''s so special about her?¡± Wallace''s tone was almost desperate.


    ¡°Might I ask why you have taken such an interest in her? Depending on your answer, I may provide one as well,¡± Fate countered, his voice measured.


    ¡°I tested her blood. It isn''t entirely hu¡ª¡± Wallace began, but Fate cut him off sharply.


    ¡°Not another word. You have a student here for you,¡± Fate said, his tone brokering no argument. As he left, his gaze briefly met Iris''s, and she felt a strange, unsettling connection to him, as if their destinies were irrevocably intertwined.


    As Fate walked past, a shiver ran down Iris''s spine. She couldn''t shake the feeling that this enigmatic man was somehow crucial to her future. But there was no time to dwell on it now. She had a mission to complete, and with Wallace and Markus''s help, she was determined to make Xavier''s birthday unforgettable.


    Iris stepped into Wallace''s office, and immediately a look of shock flashed across his face. He had almost blurted out sensitive information, and now, with her standing before him, he quickly composed himself, trying to mask his initial reaction. His mind raced as he desperately hoped she hadn''t overheard the crucial details of their conversation.


    ¡°Ah, Iris,¡± Wallace greeted, forcing a smile and leaning back in his chair. ¡°I didn''t expect to see you at such a late hour. What can I do for you?¡±


    There was a slight edge to his voice, a subtle tension that Iris couldn''t ignore. She noted his rapid shift in demeanor, the way he seemed to collect himself as if bracing for her questions. Wallace''s eyes flickered with a mix of concern and curiosity, betraying his attempt at casualness.


    Wallace watched Iris closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Who was that man you seemed to be arguing with?¡± she asked, attempting to dig deeper into the encounter she had overheard.


    Wallace shifted in his seat, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. ¡°Oh, him? Just a colleague, nothing more. The argument isn''t something you need to worry about.¡± He forced a casual smile, but Iris could sense the tension beneath his facade.


    She narrowed her eyes, her suspicion growing. There was clearly more to the story, but she decided to let it go for now. Her focus was on something more immediate, Xavier''s birthday. ¡°I want to celebrate my classmates'' birthdays, and I was hoping you could help,¡± Iris requested, steering the conversation away from Fate.


    Wallace''s eyebrows raised in mild surprise. ¡°What a coincidence, Xavier¡¯s birthday happens to be tomorrow. Normally, we don''t bother with birthdays here, but I¡¯ll help you,¡± he said, his curiosity piqued by the seemingly fortuitous timing.


    ¡°Why don''t you celebrate birthdays here?¡± Iris inquired, genuinely puzzled.


    ¡°We''ve just never had the time,¡± Wallace admitted with a shrug. ¡°But maybe it would be good to start making time. I''ll talk to Jonathan about setting up a more regular celebration. Just curious, though¡­this isn''t just a ploy to get your own birthday party, right? It''s on September 14th, a week from today.¡± He eyed her with a teasing grin.


    Iris shook her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she tried to appear nonchalant. ¡°No, it''s not about me. I just happened to find out Xavier''s birthday is coming up, and I wanted to celebrate it,¡± she explained, trying to keep her voice steady. She hoped Wallace wouldn''t probe further into how she knew, especially considering her future self''s influence.


    Wallace leaned back in his chair, studying Iris with a curious expression. ¡°That''s thoughtful of you,¡± he said, tapping a finger on his desk. ¡°Xavier''s a good kid, quiet but with a lot of potential. He could use a little joy in his life, you all could¡±


    Iris nodded, feeling a warmth in her chest at his words. ¡°Yeah, I think it would be nice for everyone to get together and celebrate, especially with everything we go through here,¡± she replied, her voice sincere.


    Wallace smiled, the tension from their earlier conversation dissipating. ¡°Alright, I''ll help you out. We can arrange for a cake, decorations, and maybe a few gifts. I will handle most of the preparations. As for Markus, I have a special role for him,¡± he said with a chuckle.


    Iris grinned, relieved that he was on board. ¡°Thank you, Wallace. It means a lot,¡± she said, her eyes shining with gratitude.


    Wallace waved a hand dismissively. ¡°No need to thank me. Just doing my job,¡± he said with a warm smile. ¡°But,¡± he added, leaning forward with a more serious expression, ¡°I have to ask, how did you find out about Xavier''s birthday? It''s not exactly common knowledge around here.¡±


    Iris hesitated, feeling a pang of nervousness. She had to think quickly. ¡°I¡­ overheard a conversation,¡± she lied, trying to keep her voice steady. ¡°Someone mentioned it in passing, and it just stuck with me.¡±


    Wallace raised an eyebrow, but after a moment, he nodded. ¡°Alright, I''ll take your word for it. Just be careful, Iris. Sometimes, knowing too much can be¡­ complicated,¡± he warned, his tone gentle but firm.


    Iris swallowed, nodding slowly. ¡°I understand,¡± she said quietly, sensing the underlying caution in his words. She stood up, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering unease. ¡°I''m going to head back to my room, I¡¯m starting to get tired.¡±


    Wallace watched her go, his expression thoughtful. ¡°Just remember, Iris,¡± he called after her, ¡°we''re all in this together. Don''t hesitate to reach out if you need help.¡±


    She paused at the door, turning back to him with a small smile. ¡°I won''t. Thank you, Wallace,¡± she said before leaving the office, her mind racing with the weight of her secret and the task ahead.


    The moment Iris returned to her room, the weight of the day''s events hit her like a tidal wave. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed, barely managing to kick off her shoes before curling up under the covers. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, plans for Xavier''s birthday, the unsettling encounter with Wallace, and the cryptic figure known as Fate. As sleep quickly overtook her, she drifted into a dream that felt strangely vivid and unsettling.


    In the dream, Iris found herself standing in a dimly lit room, the air thick with an oppressive aura. The walls were lined with bookshelves, but one book stood out, the red book, sitting open on a small desk. The soft, flickering glow of candlelight illuminated a figure hunched over the book. Iris realized with a start that the figure was herself, older, with lines of worry etched into her face. Her future self was crying, tears falling onto the book''s pages, smudging the ink as she wrote. Each tear seemed to carry the weight of unspoken sorrows, a lifetime of regrets, and unresolved pain.


    As Iris looked closer, she noticed the room was not just any ordinary room, it was a birdcage, large enough to encompass the entire space. The cage hung precariously over a pit filled with bones, a chilling reminder of the consequences of her actions. The bars were thick and menacing, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out and grasp at her. The air was cold, and the scent of despair was palpable. The entire scene felt like a twisted nightmare, a macabre reflection of a future she could hardly fathom.


    Suddenly, a figure appeared behind her future self. His presence was a dark stain on the already somber atmosphere. His form was blurred, shrouded in a haze that made it impossible to discern his features. Yet, the aura that emanated from him was unmistakable, pure malevolent evil. It was as if the very essence of darkness had taken shape. This was not just any villain, this was a demon, an entity born from the darkest corners of existence. His presence filled the room with a sickening aura, a suffocating miasma of dread and malice.


    The demon leaned in closer to Iris''s future self, whispering words that Iris could not hear. The sound was like static, a grating noise that sent shivers down her spine. Yet, even without understanding the words, the meaning was clear. Her future self''s face contorted in anguish, a silent scream of despair that echoed in the silence of the room. It was a look of utter hopelessness, a resignation to a fate worse than death. The tears flowed freely now, each drop a testament to the suffering she endured.


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    Iris felt her heart clench as she watched, powerless to intervene. The scene was a stark reminder of the stakes she faced, the potential future that awaited her if she failed to navigate the treacherous path ahead. Her mind raced with questions and fears, each one more urgent than the last. What could have led to this moment? What horrors had she faced to end up trapped in this cage of despair?


    As if sensing her presence, the demon slowly turned his head to look directly at Iris. Despite the blurred features, she could feel his eyes boring into her, piercing through the veil of time and space. His gaze was cold and calculating, a look that promised nothing but pain and suffering. The static in her ears grew louder, more insistent, as if he were trying to communicate something to her. But the words were lost, drowned out by the overwhelming sense of evil that surrounded him.


    Just as the tension reached its peak, the scene began to fade. The demon''s form blurred further until it was nothing more than a shadow, and the surrounding room dissolved into darkness. Iris woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a wetness on her cheeks and realized she had been crying in her sleep. The tears were real, though the reasons behind them were still shrouded in mystery.


    As she lay there, trying to steady her breathing, Iris couldn''t shake the feeling of impending doom. The vision had been more than just a nightmare, it felt like a warning, a glimpse into a future she desperately needed to avoid. She knew then that the demon, whatever he was, had to be stopped. She had to find a way to alter the course of her destiny, to ensure that the horrors she had witnessed would never come to pass.


    With a renewed sense of purpose, Iris wiped her tears away. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers and unknown challenges. But she was determined to face them head-on. For herself, for her friends, and for the future that depended on her choices, she would fight. She would not let the darkness claim her, no matter the cost. As the first light of dawn crept into her room, Iris steeled herself for the battles to come, her resolve stronger than ever.


    As Iris awoke, the remnants of her unsettling dream lingered in her mind, casting a shadow over her morning. The sharp sound of banging on her door snapped her out of her thoughts. She quickly got up, straightened her clothes, and opened the door to find Wallace standing there with an enthusiastic expression.


    ¡°When your classes are over, bring your entire class to the third gymnasium. None of them know about this, so it will be a nice surprise for everyone,¡± Wallace said, his eyes gleaming with a rare warmth.


    ¡°Got it. Once again, thank you so much for this,¡± Iris replied, her voice bubbling with happiness and gratitude.


    ¡°No, thank you. You all should be treated as children and be able to enjoy your lives. You¡¯re not weapons used for the sake of protecting mankind,¡± Wallace said, his tone gentle but firm. With a nod, he turned and left, leaving Iris with a profound sense of appreciation for the man who, despite the secrets he kept, clearly cared for them.


    As the door closed, Iris wiped away a stray tear from her eyes, the weight of Wallace''s words settling in her chest. She knew that today wasn''t just about a celebration, it was about giving her friends a taste of the normalcy they deserved. With renewed determination, she prepared herself for Xavier''s party, eager to make it a memorable day for everyone.


    The school day seemed to drag on as Iris impatiently awaited its end. Each minute felt like an eternity, but finally, the last class concluded. With a surge of excitement, Iris stood atop her desk, ready to make her grand announcement. The entire class turned to look at her with curious expressions, except for Xavier, who had dozed off.


    ¡°Didn''t you fall the last time you did that?¡± Charles remarked dryly, his hands already glowing with aura, just in case she needed saving again.


    ¡°Don''t worry, I will be fine. Anyway, I have an announcement to make,¡± Iris declared, her voice brimming with excitement.


    As she gathered her thoughts, the rest of the class watched with interest, waiting for her to continue. Xavier, however, seemed entirely uninterested. He yawned and stretched, preparing to leave the room.


    ¡°I require everyone to follow me to gymnasium three. It''s absolutely important. It has to be everyone,¡± Iris insisted, her eyes darting towards Xavier.


    ¡°I¡¯m not particularly in the mood today. If you don''t mind, I¡¯m just going to leave and go back to my room,¡± Xavier mumbled, his tone indifferent as he headed for the door.


    ¡°Charles, catch him!¡± Iris ordered, her voice sharp with urgency.


    In an instant, Charles''s aura wrapped around Xavier, lifting him effortlessly into the air. Xavier squirmed slightly, but Charles''s grip was gentle yet unyielding.


    ¡°Thank you, now off we go to gymnasium th¡ª¡± Iris began, but in her excitement, she misjudged her balance and stumbled off the desk.


    Before she could hit the ground, Charles''s telekinetic abilities caught her once again, gently lowering her to her feet. He smirked, shaking his head.


    ¡°How many times will I have to save you, dummy?¡± Charles teased, his tone light but affectionate.


    The class chuckled at the exchange, and even Xavier managed a small smile from his suspended position. Despite the chaos, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie in the air. Iris grinned, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. She quickly gathered herself, leading the way as Charles gently set Xavier down, and the group followed her out of the classroom, buzzing with curiosity and anticipation. Today was going to be a day to remember.


    As Iris led her classmates to the gymnasium, she couldn''t help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with a tinge of anxiety. The doors swung open, revealing a transformed space that left the group momentarily speechless. The room was a whimsical paradise, infused with the vibrant life of nature, Jonathan''s handiwork, no doubt, he used his ability to save money on the decorations.


    The first thing that caught their eyes was the balloon-like orbs emerging from peculiar blueish plants with small spikes, floating up like ethereal bubbles. They bobbed gently in the air, casting a soft, luminescent glow that bathed the room in an otherworldly light. The ceiling was adorned with cascading roses, their petals gently detaching and floating down like a delicate rain of color. The air was filled with the sweet, subtle fragrance of the blooms, mingling with the savory aromas from the banquet table.


    A large, verdant vine stretched across the far wall, supporting a hand-painted banner that read, ¡°Happy Birthday Xavier.¡± The words were embellished with intricate floral designs, adding a personal and artistic touch. Beneath the banner, a banquet was spread out, rivaling even the best offerings of the school''s cafeteria. Platters of fresh fruits, savory appetizers, and colorful desserts beckoned the group, arranged with an eye for both taste and presentation.


    At the center of it all stood a grand cake, a confectionery masterpiece. The cake''s white frosting gleamed under the soft lighting, and vibrant red strawberries were artfully placed on top. The centerpiece was adorned with candles shaped like the number twelve. The flickering flames added a warm, festive glow to the room, accentuating the celebratory atmosphere.


    But perhaps the most surprising and delightful sight was Markus, standing near the cake, dressed as a clown. His costume was a riot of colors, with oversized shoes, a frilly collar, and a comically large red nose. His face was painted in a classic clown style, with a bright smile that contrasted with his usual serious demeanor. He juggled a set of colorful balls with surprising skill, adding a playful element to the room.


    As Markus saw the group, he gave a theatrical bow, his expression a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment. The sight drew a collective gasp and then a burst of laughter from the group, breaking the initial silence.


    Xavier''s eyes widened in astonishment, his usually sleepy demeanor replaced with genuine surprise. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, his expression softening as he took in the scene. Iris felt a swell of pride and relief, the effort to bring a smile to Xavier''s face was already worth it.


    ¡°Surprise!¡± Iris exclaimed, her voice filled with joy and a hint of nervousness.


    Xavier blinked, still processing the scene before him. ¡°I¡­ I don''t know what to say,¡± he murmured, clearly touched by the effort.


    ¡°How about thank you?¡± Charles teased, nudging him with a grin.


    Xavier chuckled, finally breaking into a warm smile. ¡°Thank you, everyone. This is amazing. I never expected¡­ anything like this.¡±


    Markus, still in character, honked a clown horn, drawing everyone''s attention. ¡°Well, it''s not every day we get to celebrate such a special occasion,¡± he said, his voice exaggeratedly cheerful. ¡°So let''s make it a day to remember!¡±


    The room erupted in applause, and as the group gathered around the cake, Iris felt a deep sense of accomplishment. The decorations, the food, and even Markus''s clown act, all of it came together to create a moment of pure joy. This celebration was not just about Xavier''s birthday, it was about giving them all a rare moment of normalcy and happiness amidst the chaos of their lives.


    As they sang ¡°Happy Birthday¡± and Xavier blew out the candles, Iris couldn''t help but think of the promise she had made to herself. She would cherish these moments, protect them, and ensure that no more futures were stained by tragedy. For now, they were just a group of kids celebrating a birthday, and that was more than enough.


    Inside the dim, suffocating confines of the birdcage, Future Iris sat, her shoulders hunched in a posture of quiet defiance. The room was dark and cold, save for the occasional flicker of ghostly light that seeped through the cracks, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The cage itself dangled precariously above a pit filled with bleached bones, a macabre reminder of the consequences of failure.


    The Demon entered the room with an unsettling grace, his form now disturbingly clear to Future Iris. His presence was a void, a deep chasm of malevolence that seemed to swallow all light and warmth. His eyes glowed with an unnatural hue, and his lips curved into a mocking smile. His voice, an echo infused with a shadowy resonance, reverberated through the room, making the air feel thick and heavy.


    ¡°Would you like to know how today''s event went?¡± he said, the question laced with a sinister delight.


    Future Iris lifted her gaze, her eyes hardening as she met his. ¡°Just tell me already,¡± she snapped, her voice steady despite the dread curling in her stomach. ¡°We don''t need to go through this every day.¡±


    The Demon chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a winter wind. ¡°An absolute success,¡± he began, his tone dripping with false sweetness. ¡°Though Jonathan was a bit of a cheapskate with spending on decorations, and due to it being so last minute, there were no presents. However, the birthday he never got to celebrate with you will become his happiest memory, until his death.¡±


    At his last words, Future Iris''s eyes flared with a fierce intensity. He will live a long life,¡± she retorted, her voice edged with steel. ¡°They all will. You will not orchestrate their tragedies anymore. My past self will stop you, you bastard!¡±


    The Demon leaned closer to the cage, his expression darkening. ¡°For one of your upcoming messages,¡± he said, his voice taking on a silken, dangerous quality, ¡°I would like you to edit the contents. Have Iris save Wallace. That day will be too boring if she''s not put in harm''s way a little bit.¡±


    Future Iris''s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a grim smile. ¡°I was already planning to,¡± she replied, defiance dripping from every word. ¡°Wallace''s death during the invasion is a tragedy that cannot be repeated. I will help my past self rewrite all of their deaths.¡±


    The Demon grinned, a chilling sight that sent a shiver down her spine. ¡°That''s what I love about you,¡± he said, a mocking affection in his tone. ¡°You always take risks, no matter how improbable. And you always bring results. But why struggle so much? This timeline will not be fixed even if hers is saved.¡±


    Future Iris''s gaze remained steady, her resolve unbroken. ¡°I wonder why,¡± she mused, her voice a taunting whisper. ¡°Sadly, nothing in our contract forces me to tell you, damned demon.¡±


    The Demon''s smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of cold fury. ¡°Fine, be like that,¡± he snarled, his voice losing its mocking edge. ¡°Though you''ll regret it, I promise you. Your past self will be brought to an even worse ending than the one you currently are stuck with.¡±


    With that, he turned and walked away, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The room grew colder, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Future Iris watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew the road ahead for her past self would be treacherous, but she held onto the hope that, with her guidance, they could change their fate. She wiped a tear from her eye, her resolve hardening. The demon''s words were a reminder of the stakes, but also of the strength they would need to find to overcome the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

 Chapter 15-Demons Tricks

    After the birthday party, Iris, felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She trudged back to her room, every step heavy with the day''s events. The moment she reached her bed, she collapsed onto it, her body sinking into the mattress as if it were the most comfortable place in the world. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a new letter from her future self resting on her nightstand. The familiar red book lay open, a fresh page filled with the handwriting she had come to recognize. But for now, she chose not to read it. The day''s weight, both physically and emotionally, was too much to bear at that moment. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her, slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber, free from visions of the future or the enigmatic Fate.


    When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was the room''s strange, warm glow. She sat up slowly, blinking to clear the remnants of sleep from her eyes. The source of the light became apparent almost immediately. The butterflies made of fire, which she had seen before, were more numerous than ever. They flitted around the room, their movements erratic and unpredictable. The small creatures filled the space with a soft, flickering light, casting dancing shadows on the walls.


    Iris watched in awe as the fiery butterflies multiplied, their numbers filling the room with a surreal beauty. The gentle hum of their wings was almost hypnotic, a comforting sound that seemed to resonate with her own heartbeat. The flames they carried did not burn, but they radiated a warmth that was both comforting and disconcerting. As she observed them, she couldn''t help but wonder what they meant. Were they a manifestation of her powers, a reflection of her inner turmoil, or a message from the future?


    Whatever the reason, the sight of the fire butterflies was both mesmerizing and unsettling. Their erratic movements suggested a restlessness, a kind of chaotic energy that seemed to mirror the uncertainty of her own situation. They danced around her, their fiery glow illuminating the room in a soft, golden light.


    With a deep sigh, Iris swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. The exhaustion from the previous day still lingered, but the sight of the butterflies filled her with a renewed sense of curiosity and determination. She knew she couldn''t ignore the letter forever, and the presence of the butterflies felt like a gentle reminder that her journey was far from over. As she reached for the red book, the fire butterflies continued their dance around her, their light casting an ethereal glow on the pages. With a deep breath, Iris prepared herself to read the new message, ready to face whatever the future might hold.


    The moment Iris touched the red book, the room''s ethereal glow vanished. The fire butterflies disappeared one by one, extinguished as easily as blowing out a candle. The soft, comforting hum that had filled the air was abruptly replaced by a terrifying cacophony. A frenzied, raving roar emanated from the book, accompanied by chilling screams of pure madness. The sound was so intense that Iris''s ears began to bleed, a sharp, piercing pain shooting through her head.


    As the noise reached its peak, Iris felt a strange sensation in her eyes. Her irises began to change, a vivid red ring forming around them. She felt an inexplicable compulsion to open the red book, as if an unseen force was drawing her in. Despite the agony, she read the page with trembling hands, desperate and compelled to read the message.


    Inside, only seven words were written. There was no signature, no comforting sign-off from her future self, just a simple, haunting message. As her eyes scanned the page, the room seemed to close in around her. The words seared themselves into her mind, leaving a deep, unsettling imprint. Blood tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood from her ears. The world around her blurred and darkened, the last remnants of her consciousness slipping away.


    Iris passed out, collapsing onto the floor with a dull thud. The room fell silent once more, the horrific noises and chaotic energy vanishing as suddenly as they had appeared. The seven words remained etched in her mind, a lingering echo that would haunt her waking moments and her dreams. As she lay unconscious, the red book lay open beside her, its secrets temporarily hidden, but far from forgotten.


    A few hours later, Wallace came rushing into Iris''s room, his face pale with worry. It had been reported that Iris hadn''t shown up for class, and despite no abnormalities on her heart monitor, his concern grew when he saw the blood smeared across her cheeks, mingling with her tears. The sight sent a chill down his spine. As his eyes scanned the room, he noticed a worn, ripped-up notebook on her desk. It looked ordinary, devoid of any writing. To Wallace, the red book appeared as nothing more than an old, empty journal, its true nature hidden from him and only visible to Iris.


    Desperate to help, Wallace placed his hands over Iris''s eyes, his fingers glowing with a soothing green aura. His healing powers, usually so reliable, had no effect. The blood wasn''t from a physical wound. Madness was the first thought that crossed his mind, but it didn''t fit. Authority-type abilities, like the one Iris presumably had, typically provided immunity against such effects. Moreover, there were no physical alterations to her body, which further puzzled him.


    Without a second thought, Wallace scooped Iris up in his arms and he sprinted out of the room with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. As he approached the railing, he leaped over it, landing with a jolt. He quickly used his powers to heal the impact, minimizing any potential injury. His feet barely touched the ground as he raced toward the medical office, ignoring the confused and concerned looks from students in the hallways. Among them was Charles, who immediately began to follow, his face etched with worry. However, Wallace was too fast, and Charles struggled to keep up.


    Bursting into the medical office, Wallace gently laid Iris on a hospital bed. He hurriedly set up various monitors and equipment, frantically checking for any signs of injury or abnormality. His brow furrowed in concentration, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Yet, despite his best efforts, there was nothing visibly wrong with her. The blood continued to trickle from her eyes, staining the pillow beneath her head.


    A few minutes later, the door slammed open as Charles rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. ¡°What happened to her? Is she okay?¡± he demanded, his voice shaky with fear.


    Wallace shook his head, a deep frown etched on his face. ¡°I don''t know,¡± he admitted, his voice laced with uncertainty. ¡°There doesn''t seem to be anything physically wrong with her. Her vitals are stable, but this¡­ whatever it is, it''s beyond my understanding.¡±


    Charles clenched his fists, frustration, and helplessness evident in his eyes. ¡°There must be something we can do,¡± he insisted. ¡°We can''t just leave her like this.¡±


    Wallace sighed, placing a comforting hand on Charles''s shoulder. ¡°We''ll keep monitoring her,¡± he said, trying to sound reassuring. ¡°For now, all we can do is wait and see if she wakes up on her own. We need to figure out what caused this, but until then, we can only hope she''ll recover.¡±


    As the two stood by Iris''s bedside, the room was filled with a tense silence. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, a rhythmic reminder of the unknown battle Iris was facing. Wallace''s mind raced, searching for answers, while Charles watched over his friend with a protective gaze. The situation was dire, and the uncertainty of it all gnawed at them. The red book''s influence remained a mystery, its secrets locked away, leaving Wallace and Charles to grapple with the fear of the unknown and the hope that Iris would soon awaken.


    Fate suddenly burst through the door, appearing winded as if he''d just sprinted there. His eyes darted to Iris, and without hesitation, he rushed over to her bedside, roughly shoving Charles aside in the process.


    "Ow! What was that for?" Charles exclaimed, his voice rising in anger.


    "Shut it, you pest," Fate snapped, his tone cold and unyielding. "Don''t make another sound, or else."


    Wallace stepped forward, his expression darkening. "What are you doing here, Bookkeeper? Unless you''re finally going to answer my question from last time, I don''t want you in here," he demanded, his voice filled with distrust.


    Fate ignored Wallace''s remark, his focus solely on Iris. "She seems to have suffered a mental-based attack," he began, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "An attack of this magnitude would typically drive an Awakened into madness. However, due to her Authority, Iris will remain unaffected by its corrupting influence. Her mind has sustained damage, which is why she''s unconscious, but there shouldn''t be any major side effects."


    Wallace''s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. "So she does have an Authority. At least tell me what it is," he requested, his voice firm but with a hint of curiosity.


    Fate glanced at Wallace, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. ¡°Fine. The payment for this information is you continuing to watch over and treat her,¡± he stated. ¡°Iris has pyrokinesis, but her true power lies in the Authority of Nothing. These abilities have fused, creating flames capable of burning away aura itself. The Authority she possesses is far more potent than merely erasing aura. You Authority users rarely grasp the full extent of your power.¡±


    Wallace''s eyes widened in realization. ¡°Authority of Nothing¡­ what an odd yet powerful ability,¡± he mused, his mind racing with the implications.


    Charles, his earlier anger forgotten, looked at Fate with desperation. ¡°So you''re saying Iris will be fine, right?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with worry.


    Fate turned to Charles, a strange expression on his face. ¡°Yes, that is true,¡± he confirmed. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, ¡°How odd¡­ your future has changed. Be happy, boy, though I''m not sure how but, your lifespan has increased.¡±


    With those cryptic words, Fate turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind a heavy silence. Wallace and Charles exchanged worried glances, the weight of Fate''s revelation settling over them. The enigmatic figure''s sudden appearance and ominous comments only deepened the mystery surrounding Iris''s condition and abilities.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Who was that man? He was weird. And what did he mean by my future has changed?¡± Charles questioned, still puzzled and uneasy.


    Wallace sighed, leaning against the wall as he gathered his thoughts. ¡°That man is A.E.G.I.S¡¯s greatest asset, the Bookkeeper. Somehow, he knows everything, including everyone''s future. For the first time, he seemed surprised. Apparently, you¡¯ve managed to change your future. That man said it couldn¡¯t be done unless he did it,¡± Wallace commented, his tone carrying a mix of respect and fear.


    ¡°This must be a good thing... I hope,¡± Charles muttered, trying to find solace in the uncertainty.


    ---


    Meanwhile, within the birdcage, the demon loomed over an unconscious Future Iris, a sinister smile spreading across his face. With a swift, brutal kick, he sent her crashing into the bars of the cage, the sickening sound of breaking ribs echoing in the confined space. As she slumped to the floor, gasping in pain, the demon nonchalantly held out his hand, healing her wounds with a flicker of dark energy.


    ¡°What¡­ what did you do to me? How is Iris? Did she get today¡¯s message?¡± Future Iris groaned, struggling to rise as she clutched her sides.


    The demon chuckled, a mocking sound that reverberated through the room. ¡°Oh, everything went splendidly. Though, I must say, the changes you made to your letter were quite interesting,¡± he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.


    ¡°What changes? What are you talking about, you bastard?¡± Future Iris demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and anger.


    The demon''s laughter grew louder, more derisive. ¡°Oh, it would be too boring to just tell you. Let¡¯s say I added a bit of spice after your rude attitude yesterday. She should be unconscious for a bit, I hope she wakes up before the 13th, or both she and Wallace will die,¡± he said, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.


    Future Iris''s eyes flared with a mix of horror and rage as the demon''s taunting words settled into her mind. Determined to fight back against the dark force that tormented her, she summoned her flames with a fierce intensity. The fire whirled around her hand, coalescing into a brilliant, blazing sword. With a battle cry that echoed through the chamber, she lunged at the demon, slashing at him with all her strength.


    The demon moved with a grace that belied his sinister nature, effortlessly sidestepping each of her strikes. His movements were fluid, almost playful, as if toying with her. Future Iris pushed herself harder, igniting her flames with a furious brightness that lit up the dark room. The heat radiated off her, causing the air to shimmer, but the demon continued to evade her attacks with infuriating ease.


    As she intensified her assault, she utilized her flames to propel herself faster, her sword slicing through the air in fiery arcs. The cage-like room was soon filled with the crackling sound of fire and the sharp clang of metal as her sword clashed against the demon''s dark energy. The ground beneath them scorched with each step she took, leaving charred marks in her wake.


    Despite her relentless efforts, the demon seemed to be always one step ahead, dodging her strikes with a sinister smirk. His eyes glowed with a malevolent amusement, as if mocking her futile attempts to land a blow. The longer the fight dragged on, the more exhausted Future Iris became. Her breaths grew ragged, her muscles burned with fatigue, and the fiery sword in her hand began to flicker.


    After what felt like hours of relentless fighting, her energy finally waned. Her movements slowed, her swings less precise. The demon seized the opportunity, effortlessly deflecting her weakened strikes with a wave of his hand. With a final burst of energy, Future Iris lunged at him, but he caught her wrist mid-swing, twisting it with a painful snap. The fiery sword dissipated into embers, and she stumbled back, gasping for breath.


    The demon loomed over her, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. ¡°How disappointing.¡±


    Future Iris glared up at him, her body trembling with exhaustion and frustration. She had given everything she had, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The demon''s power was overwhelming, and she felt the sting of her own powerlessness. As the surrounding flames finally extinguished, leaving only the cold darkness of the room, she realized just how dire their situation truly was. The demon''s laughter echoed in her ears, a chilling reminder of the twisted game she was trapped in.


    ¡°I''ll come back to let you know when she wakes up,¡± the demon sneered, his voice dripping with malice. He relished the power he held over her, savoring each moment of her suffering. "Don''t worry, attack me as often as you want. In this ruined world, you''re the only one who still has the courage to do so.¡±


    His laughter echoed in the dark room, a haunting sound that reverberated through the cold, desolate space. As he turned and walked away, his steps were slow and deliberate, each one a reminder of the twisted game he played. The darkness seemed to close in around him, swallowing the sinister figure until he was nothing but a memory.


    Future Iris lay on the cold, hard floor of the cage, her body trembling with exhaustion. The pain in her wrist was sharp and relentless, a cruel reminder of her failed attempt to fight back. She clutched her wrist, feeling the sting of the injury, her breath ragged and shallow. The weight of the cage bars pressed down on her, a symbol of her imprisonment and the hopelessness of her situation.


    Tears welled up in her eyes, a mix of frustration, anger, and despair. She had fought with all her might, but it had not been enough. The demon''s taunts echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder of her powerlessness. Yet, amidst the pain and exhaustion, a flicker of defiance remained. She refused to give in completely, even as the world around her crumbled.


    As the silence settled in, Future Iris closed her eyes, trying to gather her strength. The cold metal of the cage bars pressed against her back, a stark contrast to the warmth of the flames she had wielded. Her thoughts drifted to her past self, the one still untouched by the horrors of this world. She prayed that her past self would find the strength to change their fate, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume them both.


    With a deep, shuddering breath, she let herself sink into the darkness, her mind clinging to the hope that, somehow, things could still change. That somewhere, in another time, another place, there was a chance for redemption. The demon''s laughter lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the struggle that lay ahead. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of rest, her body, and spirit weary from the endless battle.


    For many days, Iris remained unconscious, trapped in a dark, dreamless void. But on the night of the 12th, something stirred within her. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a dimly lit room. The sterile scent of the medical office was familiar, grounding her in reality. She felt the weight of a blanket over her and heard the soft hum of machines monitoring her vitals.


    As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed Charles slumped over next to her bed. He had stayed with her, his head resting on the bed''s edge as he sat awkwardly in a chair that looked far from comfortable. His breathing was steady, the gentle rise and fall of his chest offering a comforting rhythm. A small, tender smile crept onto Iris''s lips as she watched him, a silent appreciation for his unwavering loyalty.


    Out of the corner of her eye, Iris noticed something unusual. A small, flaming butterfly floated towards her, its wings shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, the world outside the room faded away. Even the ticking clock on the wall was silent, its hands frozen in place. The butterfly gently landed on Iris¡¯s lap, and as it did, it transformed into a piece of paper, a ripped-out journal page, crumpled and stained with tears. The handwriting was messy and uneven, as if written with a shaky, non-dominant hand.


    A sense of dread washed over her as she picked up the letter. She unfolded the paper carefully, feeling the weight of the words yet to be read. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her hands trembled slightly as she began to read the message. The ink was smudged in places, and the writing seemed rushed, almost frantic. The emotional turmoil of the writer was evident in every stroke, each word dripping with pain and desperation.


    As Iris stared at the letter, she felt sorrow for her future self, and worried about her well-being. The tears that had stained the paper felt fresh, as if the emotions contained within the words were still raw and alive. The message held an urgency, a plea that transcended time and space, reaching out to her from a place of profound darkness.


    As Iris unfolded the letter, a voice filled the room. It was unmistakably her own, yet it carried a depth and gravity that sent shivers down her spine. ¡°You must listen to my message,¡± the voice intoned, clear and urgent. ¡°A horrible ordeal is about to confront you.¡±


    The weight of the words pressed down on her like a heavy, ominous presence. Iris felt her pulse quicken, her breath catching in her throat. The voice, imbued with the authority of her future self, resonated with an undeniable truth. This was not a mere warning; it was a desperate plea from a future where everything had gone terribly wrong.


    With trembling hands, Iris looked at the message from her future self, the fear of what it might contain gnawing at her. She took a deep breath and began to read.


    ¡°The red book is not your only danger. While using it led to our personal tragedy, the ordeal you face tomorrow threatens to bring about a catastrophe for all of A.E.G.I.S. You must be the one to correct the disasters of my era. Please, I beg you, prevent the horrors of tomorrow. Tomorrow, Wallace Valentine will die. Alone in his office, he will be poisoned and then beheaded. Before seven o''clock, you must be in his office. Prevent him from drinking his coffee, as it has been poisoned.


    Should Wallace die, we will lose an extraordinary healer. Moreover, Markus, the strongest Awakened, will plunge into utter despair. His despair will make future tragedies far more challenging to avert. I am sorry to place this burden upon you, but it must be done. Please, do not let your time end as mine has.


    ¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell¡±


    The final words echoed in her mind, searing themselves into her memory. The gravity of the situation was overwhelming, but Iris knew she couldn''t falter. The fate of her friends, her future self, and all of A.E.G.I.S. rested on her shoulders. As the letter slipped from her fingers, she steeled herself for the monumental task ahead, determined to change the course of fate.


    Iris gazed at Charles, his peaceful, slumbering form offering a brief moment of solace amid chaos. His presence here, in the quiet of the night, was a testament to his loyalty and concern. But it also meant he would likely be pulled into the storm brewing on the horizon. The impending disaster was a shadow looming over A.E.G.I.S., and now, the weight of that knowledge felt like a tangible burden on Iris''s shoulders.


    Yet, as she looked at him, a surge of determination welled up within her. Charles''s unwavering support and the bond they shared filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. She knew she couldn''t face this alone, and with him by her side, the impossible seemed within reach. She could protect everyone, she had to. The stakes were too high to falter now.


    As the clock ticked closer to dawn, Iris felt the urgency of the situation crystallize into a steely resolve. In just a few hours, A.E.G.I.S. would be plunged into chaos. But she would be ready. She had to be. With a final, resolute look at the sleeping Charles, she silently vowed to do everything in her power to avert the catastrophe that loomed ahead. The fate of her world hinged on the choices she would make, and she was determined to ensure they were the right ones.


    The night was heavy with anticipation, and the quiet before the storm was palpable. As the first light of dawn began to creep into the room, Iris knew that this day would test her in ways she had never imagined. But she was ready to face whatever came her way. For the sake of her friends, and her future self. Iris braced herself for the battle that lay ahead.

 Chapter 16-Blood and Water

    An hour before the student''s sparing session, the tension in A.E.G.I.S. was palpable. Ivan stormed down the hallway, his boots echoing off the marble floors, each step more furious than the last. He reached Octavian''s office, barely slowing down before slamming his foot into the door, sending it crashing open.


    Octavian¡¯s office was a testament to both his intellect and eccentricity. The room was meticulously organized, every item placed with precision, reflecting the mind of a man who valued order and control. Shelves lined the walls, filled with medical tomes, their spines worn from years of study. Each book was a treasure trove of knowledge, containing secrets of healing, physiology, and even a few more dangerous methods.


    The room was dimly lit, the primary light source coming from the array of fish tanks scattered throughout the space. The tanks glowed with a soft, ethereal light, illuminating the exotic and mystical creatures within. Fish with scales that shimmered like gemstones swam lazily in the water, their movements graceful and mesmerizing. Some fish were not of this world, their forms shifting and changing as if they were made of liquid light.


    The most striking feature of the room, however, was the floor. A massive circular window made of reinforced glass was set into the ground, revealing a pool filled with sharks. The predators glided silently beneath the glass, their sleek forms cutting through the water with lethal grace. Their presence was a constant reminder of the perilous world outside the walls of A.E.G.I.S., a world where danger lurked in every shadow.


    Octavian, seated behind his large mahogany desk, looked up with a calm, composed expression, though his eyes narrowed slightly at Ivan¡¯s dramatic entrance. The desk itself was cluttered with papers, a few medical instruments, and a half-drunk cup of coffee that still steamed faintly in the cool air of the room. Behind Octavian, a large window offered a view of the sprawling A.E.G.I.S. complex, though today the sky outside was ominously overcast, matching the mood inside.


    Ivan, barely restraining his anger, marched up to the desk, his fists clenched at his sides. The tension between the two men crackled like static in the air, the calm, methodical world of Octavian clashing with the storm of fury that was Ivan.


    The tension in Octavian¡¯s office was palpable, a sharp contrast to the serene yet eerie environment within. Ivan¡¯s furious entrance shattered the calm, his anger a storm raging through the carefully curated world Octavian had constructed. The soft glow from the exotic fish tanks cast long shadows across the room, creating an almost otherworldly ambiance. The mystical creatures within the tanks shifted and shimmered, their forms fluid and ethereal, as if they were attuned to the tension in the air.


    Below their feet, the sharks glided silently in the circular tank embedded in the floor, their predatory movements barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. Yet, they exuded a sense of menace, a constant reminder of the dangers lurking beneath the surface, both in the literal and metaphorical sense.


    Ivan''s gaze was momentarily drawn to the sharks, his anger giving way to a mix of awe and confusion. ¡°You bastard, why did you have to assign me all of your freak shows¡­oh shit, I''ve never been inside your office before. Why do you have a shark tank?¡± Ivan¡¯s voice wavered between frustration and genuine curiosity as he marveled at the surreal sight beneath him.


    Octavian leaned back in his chair, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips. ¡°Just overcompensating,¡± he replied smoothly, his tone as calm as ever. His eyes flicked briefly to the sharks, who continued their endless, silent circling. ¡°May I know which ¡®freak shows¡¯ you are referring to?¡±


    Ivan tore his gaze from the tank and slammed a file onto Octavian¡¯s desk, the impact causing the papers on his desk to rattle. ¡°Let¡¯s start off with Sarah Wilson. Somehow, the cloning ability from the tapeworm you fused with her DNA managed to make a copy with its own ego and personality. She even believes it¡¯s her twin sister. I¡¯m not being paid for seven kids, my contract says six.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll bump your pay to compensate for the extra student. But you should be happy it succeeded, we¡¯ve been trying to create a clone with its own ego for a while now.¡±


    ¡°Happy, he says,¡± Ivan muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°Fine, what about Rook Miller? You¡¯re lucky he hasn¡¯t used too many of his abilities yet. Why would you fuse him with a piece of Cthulhu? The madness that creature spreads is incredibly dangerous to all Awakened. And then you fused him with a shape-shifter as well. Just why would you do this?¡±


    Octavian chuckled, the sound somehow both warm and cold, like a breeze that could soothe and chill in equal measure. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest, I might have been slightly drunk when planning him out. But it¡¯s fine, he¡¯ll be useful in stealth missions.¡±


    Ivan¡¯s frustration flared anew. ¡°How did you even get drunk? It¡¯s nearly impossible for Awakened to get drunk, damn it!¡± He slammed another file onto the desk, causing the sharks below to stir slightly, as if sensing the rising tension. ¡°Alright, onto the next freak show you gave me. Just read the file, particularly, count how many creatures you fused him with.¡±


    Octavian picked up the file, his expression unreadable as he scanned the contents. ¡°Okay, okay, I get it. We fused him with every poisonous animal we could find, but we balanced it out by using a cat first, so even if he died, he would come back to life.¡±


    ¡°How many lives did you use up?¡± Ivan demanded, his voice laced with frustration.


    ¡°Only three of his nine. With the poison abilities he has, it¡¯s fine,¡± Octavian replied, his tone nonchalant.


    Ivan¡¯s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. ¡°Alright, whatever. As for the next student, Cynthia Queen¡­ Honestly, she¡¯s pretty normal. I feel bad that she got stuck with so many outliers.¡± He paused, his expression darkening as he flipped open another file. ¡°But then we go on to Maxwell Lumiar. Where the actual fuck did you get an angel? That¡¯s physically not possible. Fallen angels exist only in the astral plane with the ghosts, and if you actually killed a real one, the entire Vatican Order would come to kill you.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s expression remained calm, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. ¡°Listen, take that up with the boss. He obtained the angel feather, I have no idea where he got it.¡±


    ¡°We all know we can¡¯t question him,¡± Ivan sighed, rubbing his temples as if to stave off an impending headache. ¡°Anyway, the last one, this last student, Ashe Wilson. Just why? Why would you do this?¡±


    ¡°Before you yell at me,¡± Octavian began, raising a hand in mock defense, ¡°can I know which part you¡¯re more angry about?¡±


    ¡°Which part? Well, let¡¯s see. For starters, you used vampire DNA on him. If the five o¡¯clock chair finds out, he will execute you. Then you used a piece of the fucking worm of time. Are you out of your mind? That creature is the boss''s prized possession. If things went wrong, he would have definitely killed you.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s smile widened slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine amusement. ¡°I got the boss to give the green light on the worm of time. I¡¯ll be honest, I¡¯m amazed at myself for convincing him. As for the use of a vampire¡­ we shouldn¡¯t mention it.¡±


    The tension in the room lingered, heavy and oppressive, but Octavian¡¯s calm demeanor seemed to diffuse some of it. The sharks below continued their silent dance, oblivious to the drama unfolding above them, while the exotic fish in the tanks swam in their endless, peaceful circuits, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside Octavian¡¯s office.


    The tension in the room eased, though the undercurrent of unease remained. Ivan ran a hand through his hair, his frustration simmering just below the surface. ¡°Damn it, damn it, I¡¯m not paid enough for this. Can I get some of whatever you used to get drunk? I¡¯m going to need it.¡±


    Octavian chuckled, the sound low and almost conspiratorial. ¡°Yeah, sure, I¡¯ve got you. Listen, everything has been going fine. After the setback of losing Bjorn, we¡¯re finally making some major progress.¡±


    Ivan''s eyes darkened, a mix of skepticism and wariness clouding his expression. ¡°Remember the last time things seemed to be going well? That was before the Invidia raid. Every time the world creates an influx of strong individuals, it¡¯s only to prepare for an incoming disaster. Didn¡¯t you hear? The Alpha facility just got two new Authority users. Something bad is going to happen, I guarantee it.¡±


    Octavian leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful as he watched the sharks circling below, their movements as fluid and dangerous as the situation they found themselves in. ¡°Alright, listen, I¡¯ll bump your pay even more for the added difficulties. Will that be alright?¡±


    Ivan sighed, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him like a physical burden. ¡°Yeah, sure, it¡¯s fine. Let me go look for my students. I should meet with them before classes begin.¡±


    As Ivan turned to leave, he cast one last glance at the surreal environment around him, the exotic fish, the circling sharks, and the bizarre calm that contrasted so sharply with the chaos he knew was brewing. He shook his head slightly before heading out, his thoughts already on the challenges that awaited him.


    Once Ivan was gone, Octavian allowed himself a brief moment of introspection. He stared down at the sharks, their predatory grace a reflection of the delicate balance he was trying to maintain. ¡°He¡¯s probably right,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°He can be rather insightful. I should speed up my special project.¡±


    The room seemed to hold its breath as Octavian''s thoughts drifted to the future, one fraught with unknown dangers and the constant struggle to stay ahead of the looming disaster. The sharks continued their relentless circling below, a silent reminder that, like them, he could never afford to stop moving, never afford to let his guard down.


    Octavian rose from his chair with a deliberate calmness, the kind that masked a labyrinth of secrets. He reached for a specific book on his meticulously organized bookshelf, a nondescript tome that seemed ordinary at a glance. But as his fingers curled around its spine and pulled, the entire bookshelf shifted with a soft mechanical hum, sliding away to reveal a hidden elevator embedded into the wall. The polished metal doors slid open soundlessly, and Octavian stepped inside, his expression unflinching, as if the descent into the depths of his clandestine world was as routine as any other day.


    As the elevator descended, the atmosphere grew heavier, thick with the weight of unspeakable experiments and forbidden knowledge. When the doors parted, the stark contrast to his pristine office above was immediate and jarring. The subterranean chamber was bathed in an eerie, phosphorescent green light that pulsed from the tanks lining the walls. Each container held a grotesque figure suspended in the glowing liquid, once human beings now twisted into abominations, monsters with distorted limbs, malformed faces, and eyes that held only the faintest flicker of the humanity they had lost. The room was filled with a low, persistent hum, the sound of life-support systems maintaining the stasis of these failed experiments.


    These were the failures, the grim byproducts of Octavian''s relentless pursuit of power and control. The 95% who hadn''t survived the brutal procedures, their bodies transformed into horrors that defied the natural order. Each tank was a testament to the cost of his ambitions, and the countless lives sacrificed in his quest for perfection. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and decay, a nauseating blend that clung to the back of the throat, refusing to be ignored.


    At the heart of the room, dominating the space with its sheer size, was a massive central tank, glowing more intensely than the others. This tank was the epicenter of the facility, the nexus to which all other tanks were connected by a network of tubes that snaked across the floor and ceiling like the veins of some great, pulsating organism. Inside this tank floated a man, or at least, what had once been a man. He was tall, his muscular frame evident even through the distorting liquid. His skin was a deep tan, marked by stitches that ran across his face, a grotesque patchwork that hinted at the violent procedures he''d undergone. His hair, wild and untamed, floated around his head like a dark halo, and his mouth was twisted into a permanent sneer, revealing large, sharp fangs that gleamed menacingly in the green light.


    But it was his horns that drew the eye, two massive, demon-like protrusions that jutted from his forehead, curving slightly as if they were ready to gore anything that came too close. His right hand was missing, a fresh wound that hadn''t yet fully healed, the flesh around it raw and angry. The sight of him was enough to freeze the blood of even the most hardened individuals, for this was no ordinary experiment. This was Bjorn Necros, the former eleven o¡¯clock chair, a man who had once wielded unimaginable power, now reduced to this monstrous state.


    Yet, despite the horror of his appearance, there was an undeniable aura of danger that emanated from Bjorn. Even in his current state, suspended in a tank like a specimen, he radiated a sense of latent power, a feeling that at any moment, he could break free and unleash devastation upon the world. His presence was a grim reminder of the cost of ambition, the lengths to which Octavian had gone in his pursuit of control, and the monstrosities that were born from that relentless drive.


    Octavian stood before the tank, his expression inscrutable, as he regarded the creature that had once been his colleague, his eyes reflecting the same cold, calculating detachment that had brought this chamber into existence. This was his domain, a place where ethics and morality held no sway, where the pursuit of knowledge and power eclipsed all other concerns. And as he stood there, watching the slow, rhythmic movement of Bjorn''s chest as he floated in the green liquid, Octavian knew that the horrors he had wrought were only the beginning. The true potential of his work was yet to be realized, and he would stop at nothing to see it come to fruition.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Before the massive central tank, a small console stood ominously, a stark metallic hatch built into its surface. Octavian approached it with the same composed demeanor, though a flicker of something darker danced in his eyes. From his coat pocket, he produced a severed hand, pale and lifeless, its fingers slightly curled as if grasping at some final hope. Without hesitation, he dropped the hand into the hatch. The machinery whirred to life with a mechanical groan as the hand was drawn into the depths of the tank.


    Inside, the hand floated upward, surrounded by the eerie green glow of the liquid, before it began to grotesquely reattach itself to Bjorn¡¯s body. The flesh knitted together in a process both horrifying and fascinating, the once-severed limb becoming whole again as if nothing had ever been amiss. The sight was unsettling, a perverse display of the unnatural, yet Octavian watched with a detached interest, his eyes never leaving the spectacle.


    As the process was completed, Octavian turned his gaze to the surrounding room. Scientists lined the periphery, their faces pale and drawn, a reflection of the constant fear that hung over them like a shroud. Each one bore a collar around their neck, a cruel device that could detonate at Octavian¡¯s command. The tension in the room was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over them.


    ¡°Listen up, everyone!¡± Octavian¡¯s voice cut through the oppressive silence, sharp and commanding. ¡°I want this project stabilized by the end of the school year. Got it?¡±


    The words hung in the air, a demand that was as much a threat as it was an order. The scientists, their eyes wide with fear, nodded in unison, the sound of their collective agreement a nervous rustle. They turned back to their work with renewed urgency, each movement dictated by the unspoken understanding that failure was not an option.


    Octavian¡¯s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, ensuring that his message had been received loud and clear, before he turned his attention back to the tank. The room buzzed with activity as the scientists worked frantically, the green light casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the walls. And in the center of it all, Bjorn Necros floated in his tank, a monstrous figure that symbolized the nightmarish potential of Octavian¡¯s ambitions.


    In the gym, the air crackled with tension as Maxwell and Ashe faced off, their eyes locked in a silent challenge. The polished wooden floor of the gym gleamed under the harsh overhead lights, casting long shadows as the two circled each other. Maxwell''s six angelic wings spread wide, their feathers shimmering like blades of pure light. Ashe, in contrast, stood with a composed demeanor, his blood manipulation at the ready, the crimson essence swirling around him like a living armor.


    Ivan leaned against the wall, his gaze sharp and calculating, while the other students, Sarah, Emily, Noah, Rook, and Cynthia, watched with bated breath.


    Maxwell was the first to strike. His mind raced at a speed no normal human could comprehend, calculating every possible outcome in a fraction of a second. He unleashed a barrage of feathers, each one sharp enough to slice through steel, aiming for Ashe¡¯s vital points. The feathers arced through the air with deadly accuracy, their gleaming edges reflecting the fluorescent lights of the gym.


    Ashe reacted just in time, the surrounding blood solidifying into a shield, deflecting the feathers with a series of metallic clangs. But Maxwell was relentless. With a single thought, he redirected the feathers mid-flight, sending them hurtling back toward Ashe from different angles. The gym echoed with the sound of impact after impact, but Ashe remained unfazed, his control over his blood manipulation precise and unwavering.


    Ashe then went on the offensive. The surrounding blood morphed into tendrils, whipping out towards Maxwell with blinding speed. Maxwell dodged effortlessly, his hypercognition allowing him to anticipate each strike before it even began. His wings flared out, sending another wave of feathers slicing through the tendrils, severing them with ease. But Ashe wasn¡¯t finished. With a flick of his wrist, the severed tendrils reformed, this time launching themselves at Maxwell like spears.


    Maxwell smirked, his mind already several steps ahead. He twisted in the air, his wings propelling him upward in a graceful arc as he dodged the incoming spears. With a powerful flap of his wings, he sent a concentrated burst of feathers towards Ashe¡¯s chest, the force of the attack enough to shatter concrete.


    Ashe barely had time to react, raising a wall of blood in front of him to absorb the impact. The feathers hit with a thunderous crash, the force pushing Ashe back several feet. His blood shield cracked under the strain, and for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.


    Maxwell landed lightly on the ground, his wings folding behind him as he prepared for his next move. He could sense Ashe¡¯s defenses weakening, his hypercognition giving him a clear path to victory. The next attack would be decisive.


    At that moment, Ashe''s eyes flared with an intense, otherworldly blue light, a color so vibrant it seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. In an instant, his form flickered and vanished, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air where he had stood. The spectators, around the gym, gasped in unison, their expressions a mix of shock and awe. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, the silence in the gym becoming almost deafening as the seconds ticked by.


    Ten seconds passed. Then fifteen. The tension grew unbearable, every eye fixed on the spot where Ashe had disappeared. Twenty seconds. Maxwell remained poised, his wings slightly fanned out, his mind racing to anticipate Ashe¡¯s next move. Twenty-five seconds. The gym felt like a pressure cooker about to burst, the anticipation thick in the air.


    Exactly at the thirty-second mark, Ashe reappeared. He floated above the gym floor, suspended on a platform of his own blood, which pulsed and shifted beneath him like a living, breathing entity. His silhouette was framed by a halo of crimson weapons, blades, spears, and jagged spikes, all forged from his own blood, each one gleaming with lethal intent. The sight was nothing short of terrifying, a display of power that sent a chill down the spines of everyone watching.


    Ashe had done more than just disappear, he had severed himself from the flow of time itself, stepping outside its bounds to prepare his next move. Now, fully armed and with a deadly resolve in his glowing blue eyes, he unleashed his attack. The blood-forged weapons shot forward with a terrifying speed, a storm of crimson death hurtling toward Maxwell with the force of a tidal wave.


    Maxwell''s wings flexed behind him, the feathers twitching in anticipation. His hypercognition processed the situation in mere microseconds, analyzing every possible trajectory and countermeasure. But even with his heightened senses, he could feel the danger Ashe¡¯s blood weapons posed. Each weapon was a direct extension of Ashe''s will, and with his minor time manipulation, Ashe had already calculated the perfect moment to strike.


    Ashe''s eyes, glowing with that eerie blue light, locked onto Maxwell. Without a word, he unleashed his assault. The blood-forged weapons shot forward in a deadly barrage, each one moving with terrifying speed and precision. The air whistled as the blades cut through it, a storm of crimson death bearing down on Maxwell.


    Maxwell reacted instantly, his wings flaring out as he leaped into action. The gym exploded into chaos as feathers clashed with blood weapons in a dazzling display of power. Feathers shot from his wings, intercepting the blood blades in midair, causing explosions of red mist and shimmering light. Sparks flew as the weapons collided, each impact reverberating through the gym with a deafening roar.


    Maxwell twisted and turned, his hypercognition guiding his every move. He dodged and deflected with an almost inhuman grace, his wings a blur of motion as they shielded him from the onslaught. But Ashe was relentless, his control over his blood manipulation pushing Maxwell to his limits. Every time Maxwell thought he had an opening, another blood spear or blade would materialize, forcing him back on the defensive.


    For the first time, a bead of sweat formed on Maxwell¡¯s brow. Ashe¡¯s time manipulation had given him the edge, allowing him to unleash an attack that even Maxwell struggled to counter. The gym floor cracked and splintered under the force of their battle, the once pristine space now a war zone of shattered wood and scattered debris.


    Ashe pressed his advantage, summoning a massive blood scythe and swinging it with all his might. The weapon cut through the air with a terrifying speed, aimed directly at Maxwell¡¯s midsection. Maxwell¡¯s wings flared out, the feathers hardening into a shield as he braced for impact.


    The scythe struck with a resounding crash, the force sending shockwaves through the gym. Maxwell grunted as he was pushed back, his feet skidding across the floor. His wings absorbed most of the blow, but the sheer power behind the attack left him momentarily staggered. Ashe''s assault was relentless, each strike more powerful than the last.


    Maxwell could feel his energy waning, his hypercognition taxed to its limits as he fought to keep up with Ashe¡¯s relentless attacks. He knew he couldn¡¯t keep this up for much longer, he had to end it now. Gathering his remaining strength, he launched into the air, wings spreading wide as he prepared for a final strike.


    Ashe saw the movement and smirked, thinking he had Maxwell cornered. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned all his remaining blood weapons, converging them into one massive spear. He hurled it at Maxwell with all his might, confident that this would be the finishing blow.


    Maxwell, however, had other plans. As the spear hurtled towards him, he focused all his energy into his wings, sending a pulse of light through each feather. With a mighty flap, he launched a barrage of feathers, each one glowing with a brilliant white light. The feathers met the blood spear head-on, the collision resulting in a blinding explosion of light and blood.


    The force of the explosion shook the gym, the shockwave knocking Ashe off his platform and sending him crashing to the ground. Maxwell, propelled by his wings, shot forward like a bullet, his wings tucked in tight as he aimed directly for Ashe.


    Ashe struggled to regain his footing, dazed by the explosion. He barely had time to react before Maxwell was upon him, delivering a powerful punch that sent him sprawling across the gym floor. Ashe gasped in pain as he felt the impact, the wind knocked out of him.


    Maxwell stood over Ashe, breathing heavily, his wings twitching with exhaustion. He had used every ounce of his strength, and it showed. But Ashe was down and Maxwell won.


    Ashe groaned, trying to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. He was spent, his powers drained from the relentless battle. Maxwell, barely standing, extended a hand to his fallen opponent.


    ¡°I have almost no energy left,¡± Maxwell said, his voice heavy with fatigue, but there was a genuine smile of respect on his lips. ¡°You fought well.¡±


    Ashe, wincing slightly from the residual strain of the match, managed a weary grin. ¡°Thanks,¡± he replied, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. ¡°It was a good match.¡±


    From the sidelines, Ivan watched the exchange with a mix of weariness and awe. The sound of the crowd''s murmur faded into the background as he spoke to himself, his gaze lingering on the now-quiet arena. ¡°These kids are monsters,¡± he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see what they¡¯re like as the years go by.¡±


    The tension in the gym shifted as the next match was announced. The energy in the room buzzed with anticipation.


    Noah and Emily prepared for their match, each stepping into the center of the gym, their movements a study in contrast. The quiet before the storm seemed to stretch indefinitely, amplifying every sound, the soft rustle of Emily¡¯s scythes, the rhythmic tap of Noah¡¯s cane, and the low murmur of spectators shifting in their seats.


    The stage was set for the next battle, and the students braced themselves for what was to come, the echoes of Maxwell and Ashe¡¯s fight still fresh in their minds.


    Emily stepped into the center of the gym with a predatory grace. Her arms transformed into razor-sharp mantis scythes and glinted menacingly under the gym lights. She moved with a fluid, almost hypnotic elegance, each step calculated and deliberate. Her gaze, intense and focused, was locked onto her opponent.


    Noah, in stark contrast, made his way to the center of the gym with a measured calm. Despite his blindness, he navigated the space with the aid of his walking cane, which tapped rhythmically against the floor. His presence was almost serene, but a subtle, unsettling aura of danger surrounded him. He held his cane with practiced ease, his posture relaxed but ready.


    At Ivan¡¯s signal, the fight began. Emily lunged forward with swift, slicing strikes from her scythes. Her movements were a blur of precision and power, each swing designed to test her opponent''s defenses. Noah dodged and weaved with uncanny accuracy, his cane deflecting some of Emily''s blows and guiding him away from others. Despite his blindness, he seemed to see more than most, his senses finely attuned to the rhythm of the fight. He was like a dancer moving through a storm of steel, his body moving with a grace that belied his disability.


    But Emily was relentless. With each failed strike, her determination grew. She shifted her approach, her scythes carving intricate patterns in the air as she tried to corner Noah. Finally, with a fierce, focused lunge, Emily managed to close the distance. Her scythes aimed for Noah¡¯s midsection with deadly precision.


    Noah, feeling the shift in the air as Emily¡¯s scythes approached, braced himself. He swung his cane, intercepting Emily¡¯s attack just in time. As he did, his hand brushed against Emily¡¯s arm. The contact was brief but enough. The scratch from Noah¡¯s poisoned touch was almost imperceptible, but its effect was immediate.


    Emily¡¯s eyes widened in shock and pain. She staggered, her scythes falling limply to her sides, and then they transformed back to normal. Her body went slack, and she collapsed onto the gym floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the poison took its toll. Within moments, she was unconscious.


    The gym fell silent, the only sounds were the soft thud of Emily hitting the ground and the rhythmic tapping of Noah¡¯s cane as he approached her prone form. He knelt beside her, his expression unreadable, and then he stood up and walked away, his cane tapping with a steady rhythm.


    ¡°No worries,¡± Noah said with a calm smile. ¡°I controlled the poison to paralyze her for only a short while, nothing lethal.¡±


    His reassurance did little to quell the fear in the eyes of his fellow students, their anxiety palpable as they watched Emily being carefully attended to. Ivan, ever the professional, quickly scooped her up and made his way to the medical ward with urgent efficiency. The room''s atmosphere was thick with tension as he returned moments later, his face a mask of determined calm. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± Ivan announced to the room, his voice steady. ¡°Just needs a bit of time to recover.¡±


    With Emily''s condition addressed and the student¡¯s nerves somewhat settled, the focus shifted to the final match. The gym¡¯s ambiance shifted, a renewed buzz of anticipation filling the space. Maxwell and Noah stepped to the center of the arena, their contrasting states reflecting the toll of their earlier battles.


    Maxwell, visibly weary, bore the weight of exhaustion in every step. His shoulders slumped slightly, his breathing ragged, as he braced himself for the final contest. Despite his fatigue, there was a fire in his eyes, a resolve that spoke of his unwillingness to yield.


    Noah, on the other hand, exuded a calm and collected demeanor, his energy seemingly unaffected by the earlier matches. His posture was relaxed yet poised, a stark contrast to Maxwell''s battle-worn appearance. The sense of calm around Noah only served to heighten the tension in the room, setting the stage for the climactic confrontation.


    As the two fighters faced off, the gym fell into a heavy silence, every spectator holding their breath in anticipation. The final match was about to begin, and the atmosphere was electric with expectation.

 Chapter 17-Crimson Abyss

    Maxwell stood in the center of the gym, his body battered and weakened, every breath a reminder of the grueling battle he had just endured. His wings, once radiant and strong, now hung limply behind him, their feathers dulled by fatigue. In stark contrast, Noah stood across from him, barely showing signs of exertion, his calm demeanor unshaken. The entire class, though buzzing with anticipation, could sense the inevitable outcome. The tension in the air was thick, and each student was on edge as they waited for the clash that seemed more a formality than a fair fight.


    But just as the two prepared to engage, the atmosphere in the gym shifted dramatically. A loud crack echoed through the room, and suddenly, a massive wall of bones erupted from the ground between them, towering and menacing. The bones, polished to an eerie sheen, formed an impenetrable barrier, their twisted shapes casting long, ominous shadows across the gym floor.


    ¡°Alright, listen up!¡± Ivan¡¯s voice boomed, cutting through the stunned silence. He stepped forward, his expression stern yet composed. ¡°We¡¯re postponing this fight. You two will face off when you¡¯re both at full strength.¡± His gaze moved from Noah, still calm and collected, to Maxwell, who was visibly struggling to remain standing. ¡°Any moment now, Maxwell is going to collapse.¡±


    The class, on the edge of their seats, now shifted uneasily. The sudden intervention, though unexpected, made sense. Despite his determination, Maxwell was in no condition to continue, and Noah¡¯s victory, while almost certain, would have been hollow under the circumstances.


    Ivan¡¯s decision hung in the air, the bone wall a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. The students exchanged glances, a mix of disappointment and understanding passing through them. This fight, the one they had all been so eager to witness, would have to wait.


    But in the back of their minds, one thought lingered, when these two finally clashed at full strength, the outcome would be anything but predictable.


    Ivan paced before the students, his boots echoing ominously in the gym as he observed their reactions. The bone wall had vanished, but the tension it left behind still lingered in the air.


    ¡°Overall, your combat skills were excellent,¡± Ivan began, his voice steady but carrying a weight that demanded attention. ¡°It¡¯s not unheard of for one or two geniuses to appear in a class, but having this many¡­ well, it means this will be an interesting year.¡±


    His gaze swept over the group, lingering momentarily on each student as if assessing their potential anew. ¡°Listen up,¡± he continued, his tone hardening, ¡°I¡¯ll be your combat instructor from now until you graduate. While the recruits of the Alpha facility¡¯s main priority is to hunt monsters, you all have a different prey. You will be taught how to kill the Awakened.¡±


    The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Ivan snapped his fingers, and in an instant, bones materialized out of thin air, swirling around him like a violent storm. Thousands of weapons formed in the blink of an eye, each one more intricate and deadly than the last. The display was breathtaking in its brutality, a far cry from the crude blood weapons Ashe had created. These were masterworks, each blade and spear unique, crafted with a precision that spoke of Ivan¡¯s terrifying mastery over his power.


    ¡°To survive my onslaught and be able to defeat me at least once is the standard I expect from you by the end of your time here,¡± Ivan declared, his eyes narrowing as he gauged their reactions. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll have until you turn eighteen before you graduate.¡±


    He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. The room was silent, the students too stunned to speak. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he added, ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure many of you already know, but let me remind you that bombs have been placed on your necks. Should you attempt to escape or betray A.E.G.I.S, then your head goes boom.¡± He punctuated the statement with a mock gun gesture, a dark smile playing on his lips.


    The fear was palpable, a cold wave that swept through the room. Maxwell, still weary from his earlier fight, felt a chill run down his spine. He was all too aware of the bombs, having encountered Frank, who told him of the bombs. The stakes had never felt higher.


    Cynthia, trying to mask her fear with curiosity, raised a hand. ¡°What¡¯s so special about battling against an Awakened compared to when we have fought each other?¡± she asked, her voice steady but tinged with concern.


    Ivan¡¯s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he considered her question. ¡°Excellent question. The answer would be madness,¡± he replied, his voice taking on a grim edge. ¡°While technically, on infinitesimally rare occasions, a normal human can succumb to madness, with the Awakened, it¡¯s nearly guaranteed. Should they be put on the verge of death, their minds shatter under the strain, and their bodies respond by absorbing the ambient aura. This overwhelming surge of power twists them into grotesque, monstrous forms, driven by a pure instinct to kill. Those beasts we call the Frenzied are much stronger than when they were an Awakened.¡±


    The room was silent, the weight of Ivan¡¯s words pressing down on them like a physical force. Each student could feel the looming threat, the terrifying reality of what it meant to fight and kill an Awakened. The path ahead was fraught with danger, and as Ivan¡¯s gaze swept over them once more, they all understood that this was only the beginning.


    Maxwell stood amidst his peers, feeling the weight of his anxiety pressing down like a vice. Being an Awakened was a curse he could never escape, no matter how much he wished to. The memories of the fighting pit resurfaced unbidden, a nightmare he couldn¡¯t shake. The chaos, the blood, the screams¡ªit was all a blur, yet the raw terror of losing himself to that madness was still vivid. A shiver coursed down his spine as he recalled the crazed look in the eyes of those who had succumbed, their humanity stripped away, leaving only a ravenous beast behind.


    ¡°You artificial Awakened,¡± Ivan¡¯s voice cut through Maxwell¡¯s thoughts, ¡°despite the enhancements you¡¯ve undergone, you still have the same chance as any standard human of succumbing to madness.¡± Ivan¡¯s tone was as cold and sharp as the weapons he commanded. ¡°The most crucial thing you must know when in combat is when to kill your own allies. If you¡¯re on a mission with an Awakened, and you believe they¡¯re becoming a Frenzied, you must kill them quickly.¡±


    The room grew colder as Ivan spoke, the reality of his words sinking in like poison. ¡°Six years ago, I was on a large-scale raid¡ªmany of you have heard about the Invidia raid, I assume. The worst part of that nightmare was Invidia¡¯s ability to control madness and inflict it onto us. We weren¡¯t just fighting a monster; we were battling our own comrades who, en masse, became twisted, grotesque beasts. For their sake and your own, you must put them out of their misery.¡±


    A somber silence fell over the room as Ivan¡¯s words hung in the air. His expression was distant, haunted by the ghosts of that raid. The students exchanged uneasy glances, the grim reality of their future laid bare.


    Maxwell, his voice tinged with an edge of desperation, finally asked, ¡°If we¡¯re battling a Frenzied, what should we do?¡±


    Ivan¡¯s gaze locked onto Maxwell¡¯s, the intensity in his eyes unmistakable. ¡°If you¡¯re alone, unless you¡¯ve been assigned a powerful artifact, or if you¡¯re Markus Valentine, you run. Without overwhelming power, you have no hope. Those things make their previous selves look like weak children.¡±


    The mention of Markus Valentine piqued Rook¡¯s curiosity, and he voiced the question on everyone¡¯s mind, ¡°Who is Markus Valentine?¡±


    Ivan¡¯s expression softened slightly, a mix of respect and something darker lurking beneath. ¡°He is A.E.G.I.S.¡¯s strongest Awakened, the Reaper. His power is so immense that the leader of A.E.G.I.S. has placed a total of three seals on his body to limit his pure power.¡±


    The revelation left the students in awe, a silent acknowledgment of the terrifying power that lay within their ranks. But with that awe came a realization, they were all walking a razor¡¯s edge, teetering between incredible power and the abyss of madness. And for Maxwell, the line between the two had never felt thinner.


    Ivan¡¯s voice carried a mix of authority and casual ease as he addressed the students, ¡°For the most part, I¡¯ll explain how things will work once your classes start tomorrow... wait a second, where did Sarah go?¡± He frowned as he realized she had quietly slipped away.


    Ashe stepped forward, his expression calm but with a hint of concern. ¡°Sorry, she snuck out a while ago to go check on Emily. Do you want me to bring her back?¡±


    Ivan let out a chuckle, the sound almost out of place given the tense atmosphere. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I applaud that kind of stealth skill¡ªshe¡¯s got potential. But I¡¯ll have to keep a more watchful eye from now on.¡±


    The tension in the room eased slightly, the students relaxing as Ivan¡¯s laughter broke the intensity of the moment. ¡°Go take a break,¡± Ivan continued, his tone now more casual. ¡°You¡¯ve got classes starting tomorrow, but I¡¯ll schedule your rematch for the 13th.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The date hit him like a punch to the gut, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin. The 13th, Nihil¡¯s letter, had warned him that this was the day he would die if he couldn¡¯t prevent it. His mind raced as the surrounding room blurred into a haze of anxiety. He managed a stiff nod, barely registering the rest of Ivan¡¯s words as he hurried out of the gym.


    Back in his dorm room, the familiar walls offered no comfort. Maxwell¡¯s thoughts were a storm of fear and doubt as he tried to make sense of what was coming. He couldn¡¯t afford to fail. His eyes landed on his desk, and his blood ran cold. A letter, its edges crisp and clean, rested on the polished wood, with a white rose lying behind it, a stark contrast to the darkened room.


    Maxwell¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the ominous letter lying on his desk. The room felt colder, the shadows creeping closer as he hesitated to reach for it. The white rose behind the letter, pristine and delicate, contrasted sharply with the dread settling in his stomach. With trembling hands, he picked up the letter, the paper feeling heavier than it should. Slowly, he unfolded it, his eyes scanning the elegantly written script, each word dripping with malice.


    ¡°Oh, corpse of future damnation,¡± the letter began, the words almost seeming to hiss off the page. ¡°The day of your demise draws nearer with each passing moment. Each tick of the clock brings you closer to the inevitable. Do you feel it? The suffocating weight of your own mortality? The crushing certainty that with all your skills, and all your training, you stand no chance of survival. Not in the storm that¡¯s coming.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Maxwell¡¯s breath hitched, his throat dry as he continued reading. The words twisted like a knife in his gut, taunting him with their cruel precision. ¡°A large swarm of enemies shall descend upon the facility, a tide of darkness that will drown you and all the denizens of that hell. They will claim your lives, one by one, until nothing remains but silence and death. But perhaps, just perhaps, you¡¯ll find the strength to fight. Should you decide you need more than your meager combat prowess, I might just offer you the assistance you so desperately require. When the time is right, and the world teeters on the edge of oblivion, you¡¯ll be granted what you require. But make no mistake, it will come at a price.¡±


    The words on the page suddenly began to glow with a sinister crimson light, as if the letter itself were alive, pulsating with dark energy. Maxwell gasped as a searing pain erupted from the keyhole on his forehead, a burning agony that sent him reeling. He clutched at his head, the pain so intense it felt like his skull was being torn apart from the inside. The keyhole seared with fiery heat, branding itself deeper into his flesh, as though marking him for something terrible.


    When the pain finally subsided, Maxwell was left gasping for breath, his vision swimming. But through the haze of his torment, something caught his eye. The glowing crimson light faded, and his gaze fell on the key necklace around his neck. It had always been there, but now it pulsed with a faint, otherworldly glow. The key, small and unassuming, held the promise of something far greater, something that might save him¡­ or damn him forever.


    Maxwell sank into his chair, his mind racing. The letter had left him with more questions than answers, but one thing was clear: the 13th would be a day of reckoning. He would face not only his own fears, but the full weight of the darkness that Nihil had foretold. And when that moment came, he would have to decide whether to embrace the power offered to him or to fight on his own, against the tide of inevitable doom.


    As Maxwell looked up, his heart skipped a beat. Sitting on his desk was a figure unlike anything he had ever seen. The being''s body was composed entirely of crimson runes, each one pulsating with a dark, ominous energy. The figure was cloaked in a tattered, shadowy robe that seemed to swallow the light around it, revealing nothing but an empty void within. Its hair, if it could be called that, was a chaotic mass of the same crimson runes, flowing wildly as though caught in an invisible storm. The runes whispered incessantly, repeating the same words over and over¡ªa chilling reminder of his impending doom on September 13th.


    The atmosphere in the room grew colder as the figure''s presence settled in. The runes on its body seemed to vibrate with a malevolent life of their own, casting an eerie glow that bathed the room in a blood-red hue. Maxwell could feel his skin prickling, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as the figure¡¯s gaze¡ªor what he assumed was its gaze¡ªbore into him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve grown tired of these letters,¡± the figure said, its voice a low, mocking drawl that echoed through the room like a haunting melody. ¡°I think it will be more entertaining if we spoke like this.¡±


    Maxwell swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. ¡°Wh-who are you? What are you?¡± he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, fear lacing every word.


    The figure tilted its head, as if considering the question. ¡°Who are you, who are you¡­ Why must everyone always ask the same boring question?¡± It chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down Maxwell¡¯s spine. ¡°I go by too many names to count, and you are not worth hearing my true name. So, just call me Nihil.¡±


    Nihil¡¯s tone was dripping with condescension, the mockery clear in its words. The runes on its body continued to pulse, the whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if urging Maxwell to acknowledge the futility of his situation. September 13th was not just a date¡ªit was a sentence, an unavoidable fate etched into his very soul. And Nihil was the harbinger of that doom, a constant, chilling reminder that time was running out.


    ¡°Then tell me why you''re doing this,¡± Maxwell demanded, his voice edged with frustration and fear. ¡°Why are you so invested in saving me?¡±


    Nihil remained silent for a moment, the runes on its body shifting and swirling as if contemplating the weight of the question. When it finally spoke, its tone was eerily calm, almost detached. ¡°Twice,¡± Nihil began, ¡°twice the world has ended. Two timelines, both drenched in despair. Your death, Maxwell, will trigger the apocalypse of the first timeline.¡±


    Maxwell''s heart pounded in his chest. ¡°And what about the second timeline? Do you know how to stop that one?¡± he pressed, his voice tinged with desperation.


    The runes on Nihil¡¯s form began to change, slowly morphing into a single, chilling word, no.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t experience it,¡± Nihil continued, its voice devoid of emotion. ¡°I only know what happened because of a friend.¡±


    Maxwell''s mind reeled, trying to grasp the implications of Nihil''s cryptic words. The idea of multiple timelines, each with its own cataclysm, was overwhelming. But before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, Nihil interrupted.


    ¡°However, enough of that,¡± Nihil said, dismissing the conversation with a wave of his hand. ¡°I will train you, every day, after your classes. I have faith that the other key will survive. But you, Maxwell¡­ I do not possess that same faith in.¡±


    Without warning, the crimson runes that made up Nihil¡¯s form began to spread, slithering across the walls like living tendrils. Every piece of furniture in the room was consumed by the glowing symbols, the air thick with their ominous presence. Maxwell¡¯s skin tingled as the runes crawled across him, enveloping his body in a suffocating embrace. The room itself seemed to warp and twist under the influence of Nihil¡¯s power, expanding into an endless void, a vast, black box where nothing existed but darkness and the oppressive weight of Nihil¡¯s presence.


    As Maxwell struggled to comprehend his surroundings, Nihil''s figure grew larger, towering over him like a god surveying an ant. The runes on its body shifted once more, transforming into a new phrase, fight me.


    The words were not just a command but a challenge, an undeniable force that threatened to crush Maxwell beneath its weight. Nihil¡¯s towering form loomed above him, a being of incomprehensible power and malice. The void echoed with the command, and Maxwell realized that this was not just a test of strength, it was a battle for survival. It was a trial by fire that would determine whether he had the resolve to face the horrors that lay ahead.


    The vast, black void hummed with sinister energy as Maxwell stood facing Nihil, his heart pounding in his chest. The towering figure of runes watched him with a gaze that pierced through the darkness, the crimson symbols glowing ominously against the inky backdrop. Maxwell¡¯s six angelic wings spread wide, their feathers gleaming with a razor-sharp edge, ready to be unleashed.


    Nihil¡¯s voice, deep and resonant, echoed through the void, ¡°Show me if you¡¯re worth saving, corpse of the future.¡±


    Maxwell didn¡¯t hesitate. His hypercognition kicked into overdrive, his mind processing every possible outcome in an instant. He launched himself into the air, his wings propelling him with incredible speed as he unleashed a flurry of feathers. Each feather, arcing through the air with deadly precision, aiming for Nihil¡¯s core.


    Nihil responded with a wave of its hand, the runes on its body shifting and solidifying into spears of pure crimson light. Each spear bore the word death etched into its surface, a grim reminder of the stakes of this battle. The spears launched toward Maxwell with terrifying speed, slicing through the void with a sound like tearing fabric.


    Maxwell twisted in midair, his hypercognition allowing him to anticipate the spear''s trajectory. He dodged left, right, and upward, his wings beating furiously as he narrowly avoided each lethal strike. The feathers he had launched earlier closed in on Nihil, but the runic figure barely flinched. With a simple motion, Nihil summoned a barrier of runes, each one bearing the word shield. The feathers shattered against the barrier, unable to pierce through.


    Maxwell gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as Nihil remained unfazed. He knew he needed to close the distance, to fight Nihil up close where his wings could do the most damage. He dove toward the ground, retracting his wings for a brief moment before unfurling them in a powerful thrust that sent him hurtling toward Nihil like a meteor.


    Nihil didn¡¯t move, its expressionless form simply watching as Maxwell closed in. At the last second, Maxwell¡¯s feathers transformed, each one becoming a sword of brilliant light, burning with an intensity that seemed to slice through the darkness itself. He swung both swords with all his might, aiming to cleave Nihil in two.


    The impact was explosive, with light, and shadow clashing in a blinding flash. But when the light faded, Maxwell found his swords stopped dead in their tracks, blocked by two massive spears of crimson runes, each one etched with the word death. Nihil had conjured them in an instant, matching Maxwell¡¯s strike with terrifying precision.


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes widened in shock, but he didn¡¯t have time to react. With a flick of its wrist, Nihil twisted the spears, forcing Maxwell¡¯s swords out of alignment. The momentum carried Maxwell forward, off-balance and vulnerable. Nihil seized the opportunity, thrusting the spears forward with unyielding force.


    Maxwell felt the impact before he could even process it. The spears pierced through his defenses, pinning his wings to the ground with a sickening crunch. Pain shot through him as he struggled against the unyielding force, but Nihil¡¯s power was too great. He was trapped, his wings pinned like a butterfly on a board, unable to break free.


    Nihil leaned down, its towering form casting a shadow over Maxwell as it gazed down at him with those unreadable, rune-covered eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not ready,¡± Nihil said, its voice cold and devoid of any hint of sympathy. ¡°You still have much to learn before you can even hope to stand against what¡¯s coming.¡±


    Maxwell gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to despair despite the agony coursing through him. His swords of light flickered and faded, unable to maintain their form under the crushing weight of Nihil¡¯s power. He was beaten, pinned down, and helpless, but the fire in his eyes hadn¡¯t dimmed.


    Nihil¡¯s form began to shrink back to its original size, the spears dissolving into the air as it stepped back, allowing Maxwell to collapse to the ground. ¡°Survive this,¡± Nihil whispered, its voice now eerily soft, ¡°and perhaps you might have a chance. But for now, remember this defeat, and let it drive you to become stronger.¡±


    Maxwell lay on the cold, featureless floor of the void, panting and exhausted, his wings limp at his sides. He had lost, but as he watched Nihil¡¯s form fade into the darkness, he knew this was only the beginning. The fight was far from over, and he would have to push beyond his limits if he wanted to survive the trials that lay ahead.


    The void began to dissolve around Maxwell, the oppressive darkness lifting as Nihil waved a hand over his face. The eerie glow of the runes that made up Nihil''s form shifted, each crimson symbol rearranging itself into a new configuration. Heal. The word pulsed with a gentle light, and Maxwell felt a warm sensation spread through his body. Every injury he had sustained during both this fight and his fight with Ashe, the bruises, the cuts, the agony that had wracked his form, began to fade as if they had never existed.


    The once vast, featureless space returned to the confines of his dorm room. The walls reappeared, the furniture materializing as if pulled from the ether, all of it just as he had left it. Maxwell felt a fleeting moment of relief, the familiar surroundings providing a small measure of comfort after the harrowing battle.


    But before he could fully process what had happened, Nihil¡¯s runes shifted once more. Sleep. The word shimmered in the air, its influence immediate and overwhelming. Maxwell''s eyes grew heavy, his vision blurring as an irresistible drowsiness took hold. He tried to fight it, tried to stay awake and make sense of what had just occurred, but it was futile.


    His body crumpled onto the bed, consciousness slipping away like sand through his fingers. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Nihil¡¯s form, still hovering in the room, watching him with those unreadable, crimson eyes. The runes continued to shift, their meaning lost to Maxwell as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.


    In the silence that followed, the room was still, the only sign of the recent battle was a faint, lingering scent of roses and the subtle flicker of crimson light that faded as Nihil vanished into the shadows. For now, the storm had passed, but the ominous presence of the entity known as Nihil lingered in the air, a reminder that this was only the beginning.

 Chapter 18-Raid

    Each day after classes and training, Maxwell returned to his room, only to be met by Nihil. Their battles became a grim routine, a relentless dance of survival and strategy. Day after day, Maxwell pushed himself to his limits, but Nihil was always one step ahead. Whenever Maxwell seemed on the verge of landing a hit, Nihil would unveil a new attack, shifting the balance of power.


    One day, Nihil sprouted crimson wings from his back, each feather inscribed with the word "flight." When he unleashed them, they transformed into deadly projectiles, the word ¡°death¡± etched into each one. They tore through the air with terrifying precision, forcing Maxwell to defend with everything he had. But Nihil wasn''t finished. The next time Maxwell closed in, tendrils erupted from the ground, made of the word ¡°trap,¡± binding him in place. They coiled around him with unyielding strength, pulling him down as if the very floor sought to devour him.


    Despite his relentless efforts, Maxwell''s attacks seemed futile. He managed to land a single blow, but the feather passed harmlessly through Nihil''s shapeless form, as if striking at a mirage. The realization that he was likely fighting a mere replica of Nihil haunted him, raising unsettling questions about the true power of the entity he faced. With each passing day, the gap between their abilities seemed to widen, leaving Maxwell to wonder how he could ever hope to stand against the real Nihil.


    On the twelfth, the tension between Maxwell and Nihil reached its peak. The room, once a place of repetitive battles, now felt like the calm before an inevitable storm. Maxwell stood firm, his eyes burning with determination despite the weight of his impending fate. Nihil''s form, made of swirling crimson runes, seemed more solid, more present, as if the entity itself was gearing up for something monumental.


    ¡°Tomorrow is the day,¡± Nihil began, his voice a haunting melody of certainty and mystery. ¡°After our battles, though I have been holding back, I believe you''re ready. Should you become overwhelmed tomorrow, use the key around your neck. You''ll know when to use it.¡±


    The cryptic nature of Nihil''s words did little to quell the fire within Maxwell. He clenched his fists, the memory of every failed attempt and near miss pushing him forward. ¡°I''ve only landed a hit on you once so far,¡± Maxwell replied, his voice resolute. ¡°But if I can hit you, I want to see your real face.¡±


    Nihil''s form flickered, the runes that made up his body swirling faster as if reacting to Maxwell''s challenge. ¡°Five hits, and I''ll grant your request,¡± Nihil agreed, but there was an edge to his voice, a hint of irritation. ¡°I won''t be going as easy today.¡±


    The room seemed to pulse with the energy of their impending battle. This was no longer just another skirmish; it was a final test, a moment that would determine whether Maxwell was truly ready for the horrors of the 13th. Nihil''s words echoed in Maxwell''s mind, a reminder of the thin line between victory and annihilation.


    As they prepared to clash, Maxwell knew this fight would be different. Nihil wouldn¡¯t hold back, and neither could he. The countdown to the 13th had begun, and this battle would decide more than just the outcome of their duel, it would determine Maxwell''s survival.


    The atmosphere in the room crackled with anticipation as Maxwell and Nihil squared off for what would be their most intense battle yet. Maxwell''s six angelic wings unfurled behind him, each feather shimmering like blades of pure light. His hypercognition was already in overdrive, mapping out countless scenarios and calculating every possible move Nihil could make.


    Nihil, on the other hand, stood in stark contrast. His body, a swirling mass of crimson runes, pulsed with dark energy. His wings, formed from the word "flight," extended outwards, each feather glowing ominously. Between them, the room was a battlefield, a confined space where reality itself seemed to bend under the pressure of their clashing wills.


    The battle began with a burst of speed from Maxwell. In an instant, he launched a volley of feathers towards Nihil, each one a razor-sharp projectile aimed at vital points. The feathers cut through the air with deadly precision, but Nihil was ready. With a flick of his hand, a barrier made of the rune for ¡°shield¡± materialized in front of him, the glowing words forming an impenetrable wall. The feathers struck the barrier and shattered into sparks of light, unable to penetrate the defense.


    Maxwell didn¡¯t hesitate. He knew he had to keep the pressure on. In a blur of motion, he surged forward, his wings propelling him with incredible speed. Nihil countered by summoning spears made from the rune for ¡°death,¡± each one radiating a lethal energy. The spears shot towards Maxwell, their tips aimed to pierce through him.


    Maxwell¡¯s hypercognition kicked in, allowing him to anticipate the path of each spear. He twisted and dodged, his movements fluid and precise. Several spears missed by mere inches, while others were deflected by feathers that Maxwell willed to create a temporary shield. But Nihil wasn¡¯t done yet.


    As Maxwell closed in, Nihil''s wings beat once, propelling him backward as tendrils made of the word ¡°trap¡± erupted from the ground. The tendrils lashed out, seeking to bind Maxwell and hold him in place. Maxwell responded with a flare of his wings, sending a wave of feathers that sliced through the tendrils. But more appeared, the word ¡°trap¡± glowing ominously as they wrapped around his legs and wings, pulling him down.


    With a burst of energy, Maxwell transformed the feathers of his wings into swords of light, their radiant blades cutting through the tendrils in a single sweep. He pushed forward, his focus unyielding as he slashed at Nihil with his newly-formed swords. Nihil barely had time to raise his shield before the swords struck. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, shattering the shield and forcing Nihil back.


    For the first time, Maxwell saw an opportunity. He pressed the attack, his swords blazing as he aimed for Nihil¡¯s core. Nihil retaliated by summoning another spear, thrusting it forward with the intent to impale Maxwell. But Maxwell was faster. He sidestepped the attack, his wings flaring as he delivered a swift slash to Nihil¡¯s side. The blade of light cut through the runes, causing Nihil¡¯s form to flicker and distort.


    A hit. Maxwell had landed a hit.


    But there was no time to celebrate. Nihil¡¯s form stabilized almost immediately, and with a wave of his hand, he unleashed a barrage of feathers, each one laced with the word ¡°death.¡± Maxwell countered by forming a shield with his own feathers, deflecting the deadly projectiles as he moved to close the distance again.


    Nihil¡¯s eyes glowed with a dark light as he summoned more tendrils from the ground, these thicker and faster. Maxwell cut through them with his swords, but the tendrils kept coming, each one trying to ensnare him. Nihil¡¯s wings beat powerfully, and he soared into the air, gaining distance as he prepared his next move.


    Maxwell refused to let him escape. With a burst of energy, he flew after Nihil, his wings cutting through the air like blades. He caught up quickly, slashing at Nihil¡¯s back with both swords. Nihil twisted in midair, raising another shield to block the attack, but Maxwell¡¯s swords shattered the barrier with a single strike. A second hit landed, slicing through the runes that made up Nihil¡¯s form.


    The room was filled with the sound of clashing energy as Maxwell and Nihil exchanged blow after blow. Maxwell''s hypercognition allowed him to keep up with Nihil''s relentless attacks, dodging spears and cutting through tendrils with precision. But Nihil was relentless, summoning barriers and launching counterattacks with a speed that kept Maxwell on the defensive.


    Finally, Maxwell saw his chance. He feinted to the left, drawing Nihil''s attention, and then surged forward with all his strength, aiming a powerful strike at Nihil''s chest. The sword of light cleaved through Nihil¡¯s defenses, striking his core and causing his form to ripple and distort once more.


    Three hits.


    Nihil''s voice echoed through the room, dripping with contempt. ¡°I proposed five hits, thinking you wouldn''t be able to do it. I''ll squash your determination now.¡±


    As his words faded, the runes that composed Nihil¡¯s body began to shift violently, rearranging themselves into a new form. The word ¡°rage¡± pulsed across his being, each letter burning with a crimson light that seemed to grow darker with each passing second. The once-fluid figure that had been Nihil¡¯s form began to solidify, morphing from a swirling mass of runes into something far more fearsome.


    In an instant, the floating cloak that had shrouded Nihil¡¯s body was gone, replaced by the imposing silhouette of a dark crimson knight. His new form was massive, towering over Maxwell with an aura of pure malevolence. The runes that once flowed loosely now clung to Nihil¡¯s form like armor, dense and impenetrable, giving him the appearance of a warrior forged from the very essence of rage itself.


    Nihil¡¯s wings expanded, growing larger and more menacing. The feathers, now thicker and more jagged, were etched with the word ¡°flight,¡± but their edges shimmered with the same deadly glow as the runes that spelled ¡°death.¡± The wings flared out, casting a dark shadow across the room as they beat with a power that made the air itself tremble.


    Above Nihil''s head, a halo of runes materialized, spinning slowly and marked with the word ¡°retribution.¡± The halo radiated a terrifying energy, signifying that Nihil''s transformation was not just about raw power, but also about exacting vengeance for the hits Maxwell had landed.


    Finally, Nihil raised his hand, and with a commanding gesture, summoned a weapon to his side. A massive war scythe materialized out of the crimson runes, its blade long and curved, glowing with the words ¡°death¡± etched along its edge. The scythe crackled with a dark energy, a weapon designed not just to kill, but to obliterate.


    Nihil¡¯s new form exuded an overwhelming sense of dread, the transformation complete. He stood as a crimson knight, wings spread wide, halo spinning with the promise of retribution, and the war scythe ready to bring death to all who dared oppose him.


    Maxwell could feel the weight of Nihil¡¯s presence pressing down on him, the sheer power of this new form threatening to crush his spirit. But he knew there was no turning back. The battle had reached its peak, and he would have to muster every ounce of his strength to survive the wrath of this dark knight.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Nihil''s voice reverberated through the room, dripping with disdain as his dark form loomed over Maxwell. ¡°Come at me, you wretch. If you can survive this, there''s no way anyone will come even close to killing you tomorrow.¡± His laugh was cold, a horrifying sound that sent shivers down Maxwell¡¯s spine, yet Maxwell refused to back down.


    With a sharp intake of breath, Maxwell launched himself forward, his wings unfurling as he soared towards Nihil. His hypercognition kicked in, time seeming to slow as his mind raced to calculate every possible move, every counterstrike Nihil might make. But even with his enhanced perception, Nihil¡¯s new form was a monstrous puzzle. The dark knight was faster, more precise, and infinitely more dangerous than before.


    As Maxwell closed in, Nihil¡¯s wings beat once, propelling him back with blinding speed. He swung his massive war scythe, the blade crackling with deadly energy. Maxwell barely managed to twist his body out of the way, feeling the scorching heat as the scythe passed mere inches from his face.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got, Maxwell?¡± Nihil taunted, his voice echoing with mockery. ¡°This is the best you can do after all our battles? How pathetic.¡±


    Maxwell gritted his teeth, frustration gnawing at him. He flung a volley of his knife-like feathers toward Nihil, each one aimed with deadly precision. But Nihil was already moving, his wings creating a whirlwind of movement that deflected the feathers effortlessly. The words on the feathers flickered as they clashed with the crimson knight''s form, but they failed to penetrate the dense runes that now composed Nihil¡¯s armor.


    ¡°Predictable,¡± Nihil sneered, swinging his scythe again in a wide arc. Maxwell had no choice but to fall back, dodging the deadly edge that cut through the air with terrifying speed.


    But Nihil wasn¡¯t done. With a snap of his fingers, tendrils erupted from the ground, each one made of runes that spelled "trap." They lashed out at Maxwell, seeking to bind him, to crush him under their relentless force. Maxwell twisted and turned, his wings propelling him into the air as he narrowly avoided the tendrils. But Nihil was relentless, and more tendrils surged upwards, ensnaring Maxwell¡¯s leg and yanking him downwards.


    Maxwell¡¯s mind raced, his hypercognition desperately seeking a way out as the tendrils tightened around him. With a burst of determination, he slashed at the tendrils with a feather, transforming it into a sword of light. The tendrils recoiled, the light searing through the runes, but Nihil was already on the attack again.


    ¡°Pathetic, you call yourself an Awakened? You¡¯re just a weakling trying to play hero,¡± Nihil spat, raising his scythe high.


    Maxwell¡¯s wings flared out, creating a barrier of light that barely managed to catch the scythe¡¯s deadly swing. The impact sent shockwaves through Maxwell¡¯s body, his barrier flickering as he struggled to hold it together.


    ¡°Is this the extent of your power, Maxwell? You¡¯ll die a pitiful death tomorrow if this is all you can muster!¡± Nihil¡¯s voice was like a hammer, pounding down on Maxwell¡¯s resolve.


    But Maxwell wasn¡¯t finished. As Nihil pressed the attack, Maxwell¡¯s mind found a narrow opening. He spun away from Nihil¡¯s relentless assault, his wings propelling him upwards. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Maxwell launched himself at Nihil from above, his feathers transforming into a blade of pure light.


    Nihil sneered, raising his scythe to meet Maxwell¡¯s attack. But this time, Maxwell was faster. His blade of light collided with Nihil¡¯s scythe, and for a split second, the two forces clashed, crackling with power. Maxwell gritted his teeth, pouring everything into his strike. The light flared, and with a surge of energy, he broke through.


    The blade of light grazed Nihil¡¯s shoulder, leaving a trail of searing energy in its wake. Nihil staggered back, his form flickering for the briefest moment. Maxwell had landed another hit.


    ¡°Disappear and die.¡± Nihil¡¯s voice echoed through the room, cold and merciless, with a weight that crushed the air around Maxwell.


    In an instant, the entire room was consumed by runes, each one bearing the ominous word ¡°death.¡± From every surface, shadowy hands emerged, their fingers curling with malevolent intent. The hands, etched with the same deadly runes, swarmed around Maxwell, dragging him down into a suffocating abyss. He struggled, his angelic wings flaring out in a desperate attempt to break free, but the grip of the death-marked hands was relentless, like the grasp of the reaper himself. As they pulled him deeper into the darkness, the last thing Maxwell saw was Nihil¡¯s cold, unfeeling gaze, a gaze that promised only doom, devoid of pity or remorse.


    When Maxwell awoke, he found himself back in his bed, drenched in sweat and utterly drained. Every muscle in his body throbbed with pain, as if he had been through the most grueling battle of his life. His mind raced, the memory of the fight still vivid and haunting, a nightmare he couldn¡¯t shake. As he turned his head, a single white rose resting beside him caught his eye, delicate and out of place against the chaos of his thoughts. Beneath it lay a letter, the familiar cryptic handwriting sending a shiver down his spine.


    The letter, written by Nihil, read,


    ¡°You did well, though your struggle was barely worth my time. I find a certain grim confidence that you might survive tomorrow, but only if you play your cards right. Should anything unexpected occur, do not hesitate to use your trump card, the key you carry is more than a mere trinket. I¡¯ve invested too much in you to let my pupil die so easily. If you fall without a fight, consider this my final warning, I will be most displeased. And let me remind you, Maxwell, if you die, the world may end. No pressure, you wretch.¡±


    The words on the page seemed to pulse with a life of their own, each stroke of the pen carrying a cold, malevolent promise. Maxwell¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he reread the letter, the weight of Nihil¡¯s words pressing down on him like a curse. Tomorrow would be the ultimate test, and failure wasn¡¯t an option, not for him, and not for the world.


    Maxwell couldn''t fight the overwhelming exhaustion and passed out on his bed, knowing he would need every ounce of energy for tomorrow¡¯s ordeal. As sleep claimed him, it brought with it a vivid, haunting dream that left him more disturbed than rested.


    In his dream, he found himself in a dimly lit chamber, the air thick with despair. At the center of the room stood a large birdcage, suspended over a pit filled with bones. Inside the cage, a woman was trapped. Though her features were obscured, there was something achingly familiar about her¡ªan inexplicable connection that tugged at Maxwell¡¯s heart. He could feel her suffering, her anger, and a deep, unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the bars of her prison.


    Then, the oppressive silence was broken as a figure entered the room. Maxwell¡¯s blood ran cold as he stared at the demon who walked in. His hair was a wild, bloody red, both naturally and stained with the blood of countless others. His gray eyes, devoid of emotion and mercy, were like empty voids, staring through everything as if nothing mattered. Crimson scales covered his arms, and from his back sprouted a long, draconic tail, while menacing horns jutted from his head. He wore black, regal clothing that seemed to accentuate his superiority, as if he floated above everyone else, both figuratively and literally.


    Maxwell¡¯s heart pounded as he looked upon the man, he seemed so familiar, and so horrifying. The sight of him filled him with utter horror, a primal fear that shook him to his core. He could hear the demon¡¯s heartbeat, wild and erratic, as if seven hearts pounded within his chest, each one beating with deadly intent. The woman in the cage, her fury palpable, lashed out at the demon with a sword wreathed in flames. Her attacks were as beautiful as they were deadly, a dance of fire and steel that mesmerized and terrified Maxwell. She fought with a grace that belied her rage, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though she might prevail.


    Her blade managed to slice his cheek, leaving a small scar. But the victory was short-lived. The demon, enraged, knocked her back with a force that sent her crashing against the bars of the cage. Then, as if sensing Maxwell¡¯s presence, he stopped. His cold, gray eyes locked onto Maxwell, a sneer curling on his lips.


    ¡°Soon,¡± he said, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°Please be patient, you worthless trash.¡±


    Maxwell jolted awake, his heart racing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The dream lingered, the sight of the caged woman, the pit of bones, and the demon''s contemptuous gaze seared into his mind. As he glanced at the clock, it read 5:30 a.m. The date flashed in his mind, September 13th. His death date had arrived.


    Maxwell sprinted from his room, heart pounding with the weight of the approaching confrontation. He knew he couldn''t hide from the onslaught he anticipated, so he sought out the ideal battleground, a place where he could leverage every advantage. He found it in the vast auditorium, its empty seats and stage offering numerous opportunities for tactical maneuvers. The room, used for speeches and occasionally hosting plays, was a labyrinth of variables that Maxwell¡¯s hypercognition could exploit. The props scattered about, though fake, were meticulously crafted and could serve as both cover and weapon.


    He positioned himself on the stage, the elevated platform offering a commanding view of the room. The silence was broken by the sudden, jarring sound of an explosion elsewhere in the facility. The blast reverberated through the building, shattering the reinforced doors and allowing a chaotic swarm of invaders to flood in.


    The intruders came in waves, a mix of heavily armed operatives, Awakened individuals, and twisted hybrids from the Beta facility. Each individual had their own sinister presence. Leading the charge was a formidable man whose muscular frame was adorned with crimson tattoos, swirling like thorny vines across his body. His left arm was a sophisticated prosthetic, seamlessly blending with his flesh to enhance his mechanical prowess. His head, resembling a black crow with beady, penetrating eyes, was either a mask or his actual visage, an unsettling sight that exuded menace.


    Trailing behind him was a woman draped in a flowing black dress that sparkled like a starlit sky. The dress seemed to ripple with an otherworldly grace as she moved, its shimmering fabric catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. Her wings, once black but now painted white, were a stark and eerie contrast to her otherwise dark attire. The halo perched atop her head was wired to a headband. Her long, blonde hair framed a face marked by piercing green eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a mixture of cold calculation and unsettling calmness.


    Next to her was a cloaked figure whose maroon cloak swirled ominously with each step. The cloak was a deep, rich color, almost as if it absorbed the surrounding light, creating an aura of secrecy. Their face was hidden behind a smiley face mask, which seemed to mock the very gravity of the situation. Beneath the cloak, a sleek black ensemble clung to their form, with various knives strapped to their belt. Each blade glinted with a deadly promise, ready to be drawn at a moment¡¯s notice.


    On the other side stood a man whose appearance was as vibrant as it was menacing. His hair was a wild, spiky green that seemed to defy gravity, complementing his intense purple eyes that sparkled with an almost feral gleam. His face was adorned with an assortment of piercings, each adding to his edgy, unpredictable appearance. A large scorpion tail, its segmented segments moving with a life of their own, extended from his back, adding an extra layer of menace. He wore a black suit with a purple tie, an irregular choice that did little to diminish the aura of danger he exuded. In his hand, he carried a briefcase, its contents hidden but undoubtedly crucial to his mission.


    Finally, completing this disturbing lineup was a girl with long, wavy light blue hair that cascaded down her back like a flowing river. Her striking red eyes were a sharp contrast to her otherwise serene appearance. She wore a long, light blue dress that flowed elegantly around her, with each step accentuated by the click of her red heels. Clutched in one hand was a teddy bear, an inconsistent companion to her otherwise unsettling demeanor, and in her mouth, she leisurely licked a lollipop, the image of innocence juxtaposed with the violence that surrounded her.


    The announcement over the facility''s intercom only added to the tension: ¡°All students, hide within your dorms. If you are out in the open, proceed to the nearest designated bunker. All agents, intruders have broken in; prepare for combat at the entrance elevator.¡± Maxwell knew that the time for waiting was over, the storm had arrived, and he needed to be ready for the chaos that would inevitably unfold.

 Chapter 19-Anger of the Saint

    The weight of the coming day bore heavily on Iris as she checked the time. Midnight had come and gone, marking the shift from the twelfth to the thirteenth, the day that loomed over her like a dark cloud. In seven hours, Wallace Valentine, the man who had once saved her life, would die. The thought gnawed at her, a persistent dread that refused to let go. She glanced beside her at Charles, who was sleeping soundly, his presence a silent vigil by her side. It was hard to reconcile the peaceful face beside her with the aggressive loner Charles had once been. Yet here he was, proof that the choices she had made, the actions she had taken, were making a difference, not just in her life but in the lives of her friends as well.


    Iris allowed herself to drift into sleep, knowing she would need every ounce of energy, for the day''s ordeal No dreams haunted her, and no nightmares clawed at the edges of her mind. Even Fate, who occasionally visited her in these vulnerable moments, remained absent. Just the pure, undisturbed rest she so desperately needed. When she awoke, it was 6:30, and the events of the day were now a pressing reality. In just thirty minutes, Wallace would be poisoned. The urgency of it all snapped her fully awake.


    She nudged Charles gently, rousing him from his sleep. He stirred slowly, his eyes opening to meet hers. The relief in his gaze was palpable as he pulled her into a tight hug, his voice thick with emotion.


    ¡°You had me so worried,¡± Charles confessed, a tear slipping down his cheek. ¡°You were unconscious for days. I was scared you wouldn''t ever wake up.¡±


    Iris returned the embrace, feeling the weight of his concern. ¡°I understand. I¡¯m sorry for making you all worry, but I need your help, and I need it quickly.¡±


    Charles hesitated, his protective instincts flaring up. ¡°Just take it easy. The doc usually comes to check on you around 7:30, so at least wait for him. And do me a favor¡­.don¡¯t mention to him that I¡¯ve been skipping class to check on you.¡±


    A small smile tugged at Iris''s lips despite the urgency. ¡°You dummy¡­ But listen, we don¡¯t have time to wait. Don¡¯t ask how I know this, but at 7:00, Wallace will be poisoned. We need to get to his office quickly.¡±


    Charles raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. ¡°Here I thought you were the role model here. But if you want to skip class, you don¡¯t need to make up an excuse. Sure, let¡¯s go to Wallace before he¡¯s ¡®poisoned.¡¯¡±


    Iris shot him an exasperated look. ¡°Just follow me, dummy,¡± she snapped, annoyed by his sarcasm.


    They bolted through the halls of the facility, the ticking clock pounding in Iris''s ears. The corridors were already bustling with people, but Iris pushed through, her determination unshakable. Time seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously, every second a precious resource slipping away. Finally, they reached Wallace''s office, the clock reading 6:59. Without hesitation, Iris kicked down the door, startling Wallace just as he was about to lift his coffee cup to his lips.


    ¡°Charles, quick! Destroy the cup, that¡¯s what was poisoned!¡± Iris ordered, her voice sharp with urgency.


    Wallace, startled by the sudden intrusion, looked between them in confusion. ¡°Wait, what are you two doing? And Iris, when did you wake up?¡±


    A crimson aura crackled to life around the cup as Charles focused his telekinesis, his brow furrowing in concentration. The air hummed with energy as the aura tightened its grip, and the cup began to tremble violently. With a sharp twist of his hand, Charles crushed the cup with an audible crack. It shattered into countless shards, which flew in every direction, one of them slicing across Wallace¡¯s hand.


    As the shards scattered, the poisoned coffee splashed onto the ground in dark, viscous drops. The liquid hissed ominously as it made contact with the floor, its color shifting from a rich brown to a sickly black as it spread. A faint, acrid smell filled the room, a telltale sign of the lethal concoction that had been hidden within the innocent-looking cup. Each drop that touched the ground sizzled as if the floor itself recoiled from the poison, leaving behind a series of charred marks that marred the otherwise pristine surface. Blood from Wallace''s hand dripped alongside the coffee, mingling with the poisonous liquid in a grotesque mix of red and black.


    Wallace winced as he looked down at his bleeding hand, still processing the chaos that had just unfolded before him. His eyes flicked to the ground, where the poison hissed and bubbled, and realization dawned on his face.


    ¡°What in the world¡­¡± Wallace muttered, his voice trailing off as the gravity of the situation became clear.


    The room was heavy with tension, the danger averted by the slimmest of margins. Charles''s breathing was ragged, his hand still outstretched, while Iris stood rigid, her heart pounding in her chest as the final drops of poison evaporated into the air, leaving behind only the dark stains of what could have been.


    The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Charles stared at the sizzling remnants of the poisoned coffee, his wide eyes reflecting the dark, bubbling liquid. His voice trembled slightly, betraying the shock he tried to suppress.


    ¡°Wait¡­ you were actually telling the truth?¡± Charles blurted out, his disbelief hanging in the air like a fog.


    Iris, her adrenaline still surging, shot him a look of exasperation mixed with disbelief of her own. ¡°If you didn''t believe me, then why did you destroy the cup? Did you just want to break it for fun, you dummy?¡±


    Charles opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he stared at the ruined coffee cup, the pieces still crackling with the remnants of his telekinesis. The enormity of what had just happened began to sink in, leaving him at a loss for words.


    Wallace, still clutching his bleeding hand, seemed equally stunned. His usually calm demeanor was shaken, his mind racing to make sense of the situation. ¡°I have so many questions,¡± Wallace murmured, his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic uncertainty. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure where to begin.¡±


    Before anyone could respond, a deafening explosion rocked the facility. The walls trembled, and the floor beneath them seemed to ripple like water. The sound reverberated through every corridor, a monstrous roar that silenced all thought. The overhead lights flickered momentarily before the emergency alarms blared, filling the room with an ear-piercing wail.


    An authoritative voice crackled through the loudspeakers, the message sharp and clear despite the chaos. ¡°All students, hide within your dorms. If you are out in the open, proceed to the nearest designated bunker. All agents, intruders have broken in. Assist any students in getting to safety and eliminate any and all attackers you see.¡±


    Iris, Charles, and Wallace froze, their eyes wide with shock and fear. The timing was too perfect, too precise. Wallace¡¯s mind whirled as the pieces fell into place, the poisoned coffee, the exact moment he was meant to die, and now, the intruders. His stomach churned with dread as he realized this was no coincidence; it was a coordinated attack, meticulously planned down to the last second. The implications of it all sent a shiver down his spine.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask any questions right now,¡± Wallace finally said, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the panic. His eyes, usually kind and patient, were now hard and steely, reflecting the gravity of the situation. ¡°But I forbid either of you from leaving this office. Is that clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Iris and Charles responded in unison, their voices barely above a whisper. The weight of his command settled over them like a heavy blanket, smothering any thought of defiance. The severity in Wallace¡¯s tone left no room for argument; it was a command that must be obeyed.


    As they braced themselves for whatever was to come, an unsettling thought gnawed at the back of Wallace''s mind. Meanwhile, the Alpha facility had been thrust into chaos, the Beta facility was experiencing the same fate at the same time. Intruders had breached the facility''s defenses in a coordinated strike. But among them, six stood out, in particular, two were leading the charge.


    The first figure was a striking presence, a man who seemed to revel in his flamboyance. His blonde hair was perfectly styled beneath a tall, elegant top hat, giving him an air of theatricality. Draped around his shoulders was a flowing black cloak, its edges embroidered with intricate silver patterns that shimmered as he moved. His attire was a curious blend of the formal and the eccentric, a dark sweater vest adorned with a multitude of trinkets and charms that clinked softly with each step. His deep blue eyes, sharp and calculating, were partially obscured by a white half-faced mask, its surface decorated with two red diamonds painted just beneath his eyes, adding a touch of menace to his otherwise jovial appearance. He casually played on his portable game console, seemingly uninterested in the chaos unfolding around him.


    ¡°You need to focus, you damn brat,¡± Hummingbird snapped, their irritation palpable.


    Standing to Mockingbird''s right was an enigmatic figure, their entire being a mystery shrouded in darkness. The red mask they wore covered their entire face, leaving no hint of their true identity. The rest of their body was concealed beneath layers of dark clothing, a black cloak that billowed around them like smoke, and a wide-brimmed black straw hat perched atop their head, lending them an air of old-world elegance. The only splash of color was the yellow sun-shaped necklace that hung from their neck, gleaming like a beacon in the gloom. In their gloved hand, they held a golden scepter that caught the light, casting eerie reflections on the walls. Their voice, when they spoke, was heavily altered, a distorted tone that made it impossible to discern their gender or origin.


    ¡°Oh please, the Saint should be poisoned by now,¡± Mockingbird replied lazily, not taking his eyes off his game. ¡°Besides, the Swan and the Slayer are the only ones who pose any real threat, and I¡¯m sure you can handle the Slayer, right?¡±


    Hummingbird shot him a sharp glance. ¡°I have a plan for them, but just in case the Saint isn''t dead, bring Frost with you.¡±


    Frost was a stunningly beautiful woman with an ethereal presence. Her long, light blue hair cascaded down her back in waves, shimmering like the surface of a frozen lake. Her golden eyes were cold and unyielding, reflecting the icy aura that surrounded her. She was dressed in a sleek, black dress that hugged her form, paired with elegant black gloves that extended up her arms. In her hand, she casually rolled a suitcase behind her as if she were on a leisurely stroll rather than en route to a deadly mission. Each step she took in her black heels left a trail of frost on the ground, and the very air around her seemed to chill as she walked.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°How boring,¡± she pouted, her voice laced with disappointment. ¡°But fine, I''ll help you freeze your corpse.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Hummingbird responded, their tone decisive. ¡°As for you two, Knight, Scholar, go kill the Swan and Iris. They should be together.¡±


    Knight was an imposing figure, towering over the others with his massive frame encased in a suit of battered metal armor. The armor, though weathered and scarred from countless battles, still held a menacing gleam. His helmet, cracked across the visor in a way that resembled a vicious grin, hid his face completely, adding to his fearsome aura. Over his armor, he wore a pair of sweatpants and a black hoodie, an odd juxtaposition that only made him seem more unhinged. A large sword hung at his side, its hilt worn from use, and every movement he made seemed to resonate with barely restrained violence.


    ¡°I''ve been waiting to kill her for a long time now,¡± Knight growled, his voice echoing ominously from within his helmet. ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    Beside him was Scholar, a young woman whose appearance belied the fury that simmered beneath the surface. Her short, curly pink hair framed a face that was both youthful and intense. She wore circle-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose, reflecting the light in a way that concealed her eyes. Dressed in a white hoodie over a maroon shirt and sweatpants, her outfit was unassuming, but the aura she exuded was anything but. Her green sneakers were scuffed from wear, and slung over her shoulder was a lime green messenger bag shaped like a grinning monster. Clutched tightly in her hand was an ancient-looking book, its pages yellowed with age and covered in strange, unreadable symbols that seemed to pulse with dark energy.


    ¡°I¡¯m also excited,¡± Scholar hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. ¡°She¡¯ll get what¡¯s coming to her.¡±


    Hummingbird turned to the last member of their assault force, a figure whose presence was as unpredictable as it was deadly. ¡°As for you¡­ just go have fun with it,¡± they said dismissively, uncertain of how to direct this particular wild card.


    The final figure stepped forward, exuding a chilling aura. He was a young man with medium-length blonde hair that framed his face, his eyes a deep, bloody crimson that seemed to pierce through the very soul of anyone who dared to meet his gaze. His facial features were strikingly handsome, like a movie star from a bygone era, yet there was an unnerving quality to his beauty, something that set him apart as more than human.


    He wore a maroon hoodie lined with fur, the hood often drawn up to cast shadows over his face, enhancing his already menacing presence. His black pants and dress shoes gave him an appearance of casual elegance, a stark contrast to the monstrous nature that lurked beneath. His very presence sent shivers down the spines of those who knew the truth about him.


    This was no ordinary Awakened. This was The Boogeyman, a creature of nightmares, the strongest monster that had haunted humanity since the Dark Ages. He fed on the fear of humans, their terror, and tears sustaining him, making him grow stronger with each cry of despair. His name alone was enough to inspire dread, and his very existence was a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked just beyond the reach of the light.


    The Boogeyman moved with a fluidity that defied comprehension, appearing before Hummingbird in an instant. His expression, once blank, now twisted into a sinister smile as he loomed over them. With terrifying speed, he reached out and placed a hand on Hummingbird¡¯s head, ruffling their hair as if they were nothing more than a pet.


    ¡°I have to say, I like you," The Boogeyman murmured, his voice low and chilling. "You¡¯re smart enough to know that if you ever dared to order me around, I¡¯d kill you and every one of your little friends here. Good doggie. It¡¯s good that you know your place.¡±


    The Boogeyman''s tone dripped with condescension as he continued to pat Hummingbird¡¯s head, each touch a reminder of his overwhelming power. Then, leaning in close, he whispered into their ear, his breath cold against their skin.


    ¡°Just so you know," he whispered, his voice barely above a hiss, "I know your secret. Let that stay in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.¡±


    With that, The Boogeyman released Hummingbird and walked off, his laughter echoing through the corridor like a death knell. The sound of screams began to fill the air, the agonized cries of the agents who had dared to face him. None of the other attackers dared to look, too afraid to witness the carnage that the Boogeyman left in his wake.


    Meanwhile, back in Wallace¡¯s office, a grim determination settled over the room. Wallace stood before a mirror, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he prepared for the coming battle. His lab coat was discarded in favor of a sleek black coat lined with fur, the purple gems on the cuffs gleaming as he infused them with his aura. As the gems absorbed the energy, a small portal began to open beside him, swirling with arcane power. From within, Wallace pulled out a delicate earring shaped like a dragon, a blue crystal twining around it in an intricate dance.


    ¡°Sadly, this is all the equipment I have on me," Wallace muttered to himself, his voice tinged with regret. "I wasn¡¯t expecting to need much more, but at least I brought one of my main artifacts.¡±


    Iris, her eyes filled with resolve, stepped forward. ¡°Wallace, let me help you fight. We can do this together.¡±


    Charles nodded in agreement. ¡°We¡¯re strong. You¡¯ve seen what we can do. We even injured Jonathan.¡±


    Wallace turned to them, his expression somber. ¡°Jonathan is strong, stronger than I am. He wanted you to defeat him, so he held back. But at full power? He could wipe out everyone in this facility. And with the seals my brother has, that even includes himself.¡±


    He paused, his gaze steely as he looked at them. ¡°Stay inside. I¡¯ll defend the door. The attackers are going to eliminate every powerful member currently here, the Slayer, your teacher, and I. The rest of the Awakened in this facility pale in comparison to us. With Jonathan and my brother absent, we are this facility¡¯s last line of defense.¡±


    With that, Wallace turned and left the office, closing the door behind him. He stood outside, the weight of the facility¡¯s safety resting on his shoulders.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the attackers to arrive. Mockingbird and Frost appeared at the end of the hallway, their eyes locked on Wallace as they approached with lethal intent.


    ¡°What the fuck? Why weren¡¯t you poisoned?¡± Mockingbird spat, frustration was evident in their voice. ¡°Well, good news, Frost. Looks like you get to have some fun after all.¡±


    Frost stepped forward, her cold, golden eyes narrowing as a chilling smile spread across her lips. The ground beneath her feet began to freeze with each step, an icy aura radiating from her as she prepared to engage Wallace.


    Wallace stood firm, a smirk playing on his lips as he sized up the two attackers before him. ¡°Two against one, all for someone with a non-combat ability? That hardly seems fair,¡± he remarked, his voice laced with mockery.


    Mockingbird, unbothered by the taunt, grinned as they pulled out a sinister-looking jack-in-the-box. The toy was no ordinary plaything; its dark, polished wood was etched with intricate carvings that seemed to writhe and twist when viewed from different angles, as though the box itself was alive. The metal crank, aged and rusted, hinted at countless uses, and the latch securing the lid hummed with a faint, almost imperceptible vibration, as if something malevolent was contained within.


    ¡°Who said we were going to fight fair? All that matters is completing the mission,¡± Mockingbird replied, waving the jack-in-the-box in front of Wallace. ¡°We even brought artifacts specifically to hunt you down.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s eyes narrowed as he recognized the object. ¡°Artifact 0-87, Lullaby. Dangerous, indeed. And you, Frost? What toy did you bring?¡±


    Frost, her expression as cold as her name, opened the suitcase she had been carrying. A brilliant purple glow emanated from within as she slowly pulled out a long sword. The blade was made completely out of ice that would never melt, was as clear as crystal, and as sharp as a razor. A cold mist perpetually swirled around it, freezing anything it touched. The handle was a stark contrast, made from a mysterious pitch-black material that seemed to absorb all light. In the center of the handle was a brilliant blue gem, pulsating with an ethereal glow that was the source of the sword''s chilling power. The air around the sword grew frigid, and the ground beneath Frost¡¯s feet was instantly coated in a thin layer of ice.


    ¡°Artifact 1-199, Glacier¡¯s Edge,¡± Wallace observed, his voice betraying no fear. ¡°I recognize them both. I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t bring any surprises like the unknown Grade 0¡¯s that Nikolai used on us. I can still win this, I¡¯m confident in that.¡±


    Mockingbird¡¯s grin faltered slightly. ¡°What bullshit are you spouting, Wallace? You may be strong, but you can¡¯t win. You¡¯re outmatched, through and through.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s expression turned cold as he stared them down. ¡°Calum Nocturne, role: non-combat debuff, ability, illusion creation. Threat level compared to me? Non-existent. Sofia Elliot, role: none combat, terrain manipulator, ability, cryokinesis. Threat level compared to me? Also, non-existent. Don¡¯t delude yourselves. You¡¯re nothing more than toddlers that were handed shotguns.¡±


    Calum¡¯s expression hardened as he activated his ability, creating a swarm of illusionary clones that surrounded Wallace. The clones moved with impossible agility, performing acrobatics, flipping off walls, and encircling him in a dizzying display of movement. There were at least thirty of them, their faces a mirror of Calum¡¯s smug confidence.


    At the same time, Sofia snapped her fingers, and the ground beneath Wallace¡¯s feet transformed into a slick sheet of ice. His legs began to freeze, the ice creeping up with a relentless chill. Snow began to fall, thick and blinding, obstructing his vision and masking the true positions of his enemies.


    Yet, despite the elaborate setup, Wallace¡¯s expression remained impassive, unimpressed. He infused his aura into the gems on his cuffs, causing them to glow with a deep, resonant light. Reaching into the purple portal that swirled beside him, Wallace pulled out a sleek black semi-automatic handgun. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired at one of the clones.


    The bullet struck true, hitting the clone in the shoulder. Blood splattered across the icy ground as the clone crumpled, groaning in pain. Instantly, the remaining clones flickered and vanished, leaving only Calum standing alone, his face pale with shock.


    Wallace lowered the gun, his expression cold and unyielding. ¡°Your teamwork needs serious improvement,¡± he remarked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°The snow you conjured was your downfall, Sofia. It passed right through the illusions and clung to the real Calum.¡± As he spoke, Wallace effortlessly shattered the ice that had begun to creep up his legs, his aura flaring with a subtle but unmistakable power.


    Sofia, her eyes narrowing in frustration, quickly retrieved a flask from her suitcase. The glass container was unimpressive, the kind you¡¯d see a depressed chemistry major working with at 8:30 in the morning, but the liquid inside was anything but ordinary. The green substance emitted a faint, otherworldly glow as she tossed it to Calum. He caught it with trembling hands, downing the potion in one gulp. The wound on his shoulder began to close rapidly, and his breath steadied, but the lingering fear in his eyes remained.


    Wallace watched the scene unfold, a disdainful smirk curling at the corners of his lips. ¡°I see, so I''ll have to eliminate that artifact first. It looks to be a crude, man-made storage artifact.¡± His tone dripped with condescension. ¡°How utterly primitive. These gems,¡± he gestured to the gleaming stones embedded in his coat, ¡°are leagues beyond that clunky piece of trash. They¡¯re a far cry from the pathetic toys you''re playing with.¡±


    Calum''s eyes narrowed in concentration, drawing upon every ounce of his aura. The room plunged into an all-encompassing darkness, the sudden void swallowing the light and sound, leaving Wallace in an abyss. He couldn¡¯t see anything, but the ragged breathing of his opponents cut through the silence, betraying Calum¡¯s struggle to maintain such an overwhelming illusion. But it was enough, it only had to be enough.


    As Wallace strained to perceive anything in the oppressive darkness, a faint image began to take shape before him, slowly becoming clearer as the shadows receded just enough to reveal a horrifying scene. Lying on the cold, hard floor was the lifeless body of a woman. Her long brown hair fanned out around her head, framing a face dotted with freckles, a haunting contrast to her pale skin. She wore a yellow dress with delicate floral patterns, a picture of warmth and life now rendered in tragic stillness. A simple gold wedding ring gleamed faintly on her left hand, the only sign of the happiness she once knew. But it was the bullet hole, stark and brutal, marring her forehead, that commanded Wallace''s attention. The sight struck him like a physical blow.


    ¡°Emma?¡± Wallace''s voice trembled as he whispered her name, his hardened demeanor crumbling in an instant. A single tear slipped down his cheek, a silent testament to the pain that had been buried deep within him. The illusion, cruel in its precision, had torn open a wound he had fought so hard to keep sealed.

 Chapter 20-Lullaby

    The air was thick with the stench of blood, a sickly sweet odor that clung to the back of the throat and made it hard to breathe. The once-vibrant field of flowers was now a grotesque battleground, their petals stained with crimson and trampled underfoot by the desperate, the dying, and the damned. The sky, a nightmarish canvas of bloody red, was adorned with countless eyes, their unblinking gaze piercing through the veil of reality, observing the chaos below with a sinister curiosity. Instead of stars, these eyes seemed to pulse in time with the anguished screams that echoed across the field, a symphony of terror and despair.


    High above, the massive form of Invidia dominated the sky, a blasphemous whale that seemed to defy nature itself. Its seven crimson eyes glowed with malevolent intent, scanning the battlefield with a hunger that went beyond mere sustenance. The three eyes on each side of its grotesque head twitched and rolled, while the largest eye in the center remained fixed, unblinking, its gaze cold and calculating. The halo of thorns that circled its head radiated an aura of despair, the sharp points glinting in the dim light like the teeth of a predator.


    Invidia''s body was a mass of gray, rotting flesh, covered in patches of moss that clung to it like a disease. The six fins that jutted out from its sides sliced through the air with lethal grace, each movement sending ripples of power that distorted the already unstable subspace. The entire environment was a product of this twisted subspace artifact, once a haven for those who sought refuge from the horrors of the world, but now corrupted by the madness that Invidia spread like a plague.


    As the monster hovered ominously, thorny balls rained down from the sky, each impact sending shockwaves through the ground and crushing those unfortunate enough to be caught beneath them. The screams that followed were cut short, replaced by the sickening crunch of bone and the wet squelch of flesh being pulverized.


    But the true horror was not in the destruction wrought by Invidia¡¯s physical form¡ªit was in the effect of its Authority of Madness. The monster''s scream, a sound that seemed to come from the very bowels of hell, pierced the minds of all who heard it. Awakened humans convulsed, their bodies twisting and contorting as the madness consumed them. Meta-humans and the unawakened fared no better, their once proud powers turned against them, warping their bodies into grotesque abominations that barely resembled their former selves.


    The field, once a place of beauty, had become a nightmare of writhing, howling creatures, their forms distorted by the madness that gripped them. The air was filled with the cacophony of their tormented cries, a sound that burrowed into the mind and gnawed at the soul.


    Wallace stood frozen, his heart a heavy drumbeat in his chest, each thud echoing with the weight of a past he couldn''t escape. The illusionary corpse of Emma lay before him, her lifeless eyes staring up into the void, piercing through the veneer of his sanity. The surrounding blackness was suffocating, a tangible force pressing down on his mind, trapping him in the dark recesses of his worst memories. Each breath he took felt like a futile grasp for air, drowning in the inky black sea of his thoughts.


    Iris, peering cautiously through the doorway, saw the haunting scene unfold. The pitch-black room swallowed the light, and there, amidst the shadows, sat Wallace, tears streaming down his face, paralyzed by a grief so profound it rooted him in place. The eerie melody of a music box began to fill the room, its tune both sweet and sinister. Calum, his expression unreadable, methodically cranked the handle of the artifact, Lullaby. The melody, deceptively gentle, held a dark power, its notes weaving into Wallace''s mind, seizing upon his deepest traumas.


    The first cruel twist of Lullaby¡¯s power took hold: the music latched onto a buried memory, twisting it, amplifying it until it consumed him entirely. Wallace was no longer in the room, no longer conscious of Iris, or Calum, or the present. He was back in the nightmare of the Invidia raid, the day his world shattered.


    In his mind, the scene replayed with agonizing clarity. Sofia stood before him, her sword gleaming with intent, ready to strike him down. Wallace, his body trembling, choked out the words that had haunted him ever since, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Emma. Forgive me for this.¡± His arm lifted as if on its own, fingers curled in the familiar shape of a gun, and with a motion so ingrained in him, he fired, at Emma.


    Reality and illusion blurred, the lines between past and present erasing as Wallace relived the horror of that moment. Calum and Sofia watched, horror dawning on their faces as the truth of Emma''s death unraveled before them. The shock was palpable, a silence hanging heavy in the air as they processed what they were witnessing. They had known the story of Emma''s death, the official report that she had been a tragic casualty in the chaos of the raid. But they had never imagined that it was Wallace¡ªWallace who had pulled the trigger, Wallace who had ended her life.


    ¡°We need to capture him alive. Nikolai will want to hear this,¡± Calum''s voice was cold, and authoritative, cutting through the tension like a blade.


    But Iris, ever determined, refused to let Wallace drown in the torment of his own mind. ¡°Charles, we need to help him,¡± she commanded, urgency lacing her voice. ¡°Use your telekinesis to take away her weapon. I¡¯m going to try to get rid of the illusion.¡±


    Charles, always one to resist, grumbled in annoyance. ¡°You order me around too much, but fine, I¡¯ll help,¡± he conceded, though the gravity of the situation tempered his usual sarcasm.


    As they moved to intervene, the room seemed to pulse with the dark energy of Lullaby, the artifact''s power feeding off Wallace¡¯s torment, amplifying the nightmare that held him captive. At that moment, the fragile barrier between Wallace''s mind and the twisted reality of the subspace artifact began to crack, and it was uncertain whether he would emerge from this ordeal whole, or lost forever to the madness.


    A crimson aura erupted from Sofia¡¯s Glacier¡¯s Edge, crackling with raw energy as the weapon was violently torn from her grasp, hovering midair for a moment before being flung aside. The force of the telekinetic pull left Sofia momentarily stunned, her arm throbbing from the sudden loss of her weapon. Iris, standing at the center of the room, her eyes blazing with intensity, felt a strange pressure building within her. A faint, yet ominous, red ring glowed around her iris, signaling the onset of something far beyond her control.


    The surrounding room warped, the walls seeming to breathe as illusionary screams reverberated in her mind, echoes of madness that clawed at her sanity. The raving voices, familiar yet distant, were the same ones she had heard from the red book, a book that had become an anchor to a power she barely understood. The words it had whispered to her, though once forgotten, now surfaced with a burning clarity, On¡­ September¡­ 13th¡­ use¡­ the¡­ red¡­ book. Each word etched itself into her consciousness, searing into her memory with a fiery intensity that left no room for doubt. Her body moved as if guided by an unseen force, her actions no longer her own, but dictated by the relentless command echoing in her mind.


    As if in a trance, Iris¡¯s flames began to morph, their searing heat shifting into the delicate form of butterflies, each one shimmering with an ethereal red light. The transformation was seamless, almost beautiful, but there was an underlying terror in the precision of it all, a fear that she was no longer the master of her own power. The butterflies condensed, forming the red book. Its cover, pulsating with energy, materialized in her hands, the weight of it heavy with the promise of untold consequences.


    The pages of the book flipped with a life of their own, the ancient and incomprehensible script racing past her eyes until it settled on a single image. A butterfly, its wings spread wide, surrounded by cryptic symbols that seemed to pulse with life. Though the writing was indecipherable, something deep within Iris¡¯s soul resonated with it, an ancient knowledge that guided her hands, and compelled her to act. The butterflies, now fully formed, began to spread out across the room, their delicate wings brushing against the lingering shadows of the illusion. Everywhere they touched, the oppressive veil of Calum''s ability started to lift, the nightmare slowly dissolving into nothingness.


    But the battle was far from over. Though the illusion began to fade, the artifact¡¯s dark influence still lingered, its power diminished but not broken. Wallace¡¯s torment had been momentarily alleviated, but the echoes of his nightmare still haunted the air, a reminder that the artifact''s hold had not been entirely severed.


    As the last vestiges of the illusion peeled away, Iris felt a single tear roll down her cheek. The enormity of what she had just done crashed down on her with brutal force. She had used the red book, a relic that her future self had warned her never to touch, its power both immense and insidious. It had given her exactly what she needed to break the hold of the illusion, to save Wallace from the depths of his despair. But the cost of that power was still unknown, a debt that she feared would come due when she least expected it.


    Iris stood there, the room now eerily quiet, the air thick with the tension of what had just transpired. She knew, deep in her heart, that she had crossed a line, a line that could never be uncrossed. The red book¡¯s power had saved them, but it had also marked her, bound her to a fate she had tried so desperately to avoid. The consequences of her actions were still shrouded in mystery, but one thing was certain, nothing would ever be the same again.


    ¡°Snap out of it! We¡¯re not done yet!¡± Charles''s voice cut through the lingering haze in Iris''s mind like a knife, the sharp clap of his hands jolting her back to the present. His usually sardonic tone was edged with urgency, his eyes locked onto hers with a fierce intensity. The force of his words and the abruptness of the sound broke through the fog of her thoughts, dragging her back from the precipice of despair.


    Iris blinked, her vision clearing as reality snapped back into focus. ¡°Y-you¡¯re right, sorry,¡± she stammered, though the sadness clung to her expression like a shadow. The weight of what she had just done still pressed heavily on her, but there was no time to dwell on it. Not now.


    Calum, however, was far less forgiving. ¡°What the hell are you doing here? It seems our intel was slightly off, and this complicates things,¡± he barked, his voice dripping with irritation. His gaze flicked to Sofia, who was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. ¡°Sofia, pick up your damn weapon! I¡¯d understand if it was Wallace, but did you really let a child throw your weapon out of your hand?¡±


    Sofia, her face flushed with embarrassment, quickly bent to retrieve Glacier¡¯s Edge. The cold steel felt heavier in her grip now, weighed down by her own lapse in focus. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t expect them to be here,¡± she murmured, her voice tinged with regret. She had been caught off guard, a mistake that could cost them dearly.


    Calum¡¯s irritation was palpable, but he wasted no more time on chastising his comrades. The situation was spiraling out of control, and he knew they couldn¡¯t afford any more mistakes. He resumed cranking the handle of the music box with renewed determination, the eerie melody winding toward its final, deadly notes. Wallace, though still trapped in the throes of Lullaby¡¯s power, showed signs of stirring. His eyes flickered, his body trembling slightly, as if caught between two worlds. He wasn¡¯t fully lost in the nightmare, at least, not yet. One decisive blow could be enough to snap him out of it, to break the artifact¡¯s hold before it was too late.


    ¡°Hold them off! Once the music is done, Wallace will die,¡± Calum ordered, his voice a cold command that brooked no argument. The urgency in his tone underscored the dire stakes, they were running out of time. The room seemed to hum with tension, the air thick with the impending climax of the music box¡¯s curse. The melody grew more insistent, each note winding tighter around Wallace¡¯s mind, dragging him closer to the abyss.


    The room crackled with tension as the confrontation reached its boiling point. Sofia, her eyes narrowed with steely resolve, gripped Glacier¡¯s Edge tightly. The blade shimmered with a crystalline sheen, frost creeping along its edge as her cryokinesis flared to life. The temperature in the room plummeted, visible wisps of cold air swirling around her like a blizzard held in check. Each step she took left a trail of ice, the floor beneath her feet freezing solid as she advanced.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Iris, standing opposite her, felt the biting chill seep into her bones, but she fought it off, igniting the flames within her. The heat radiating from her was palpable, clashing against the cold in a battle of elemental forces. Flames danced across her skin, licking at the air as she prepared to meet Sofia head-on.


    Charles, hovering behind Iris, kept his focus sharp. His telekinesis thrummed beneath the surface, invisible yet powerful, ready to be unleashed at a moment''s notice. He was the wild card in this fight, his abilities capable of turning the tide with a mere thought.


    Sofia struck first, slashing Glacier¡¯s Edge through the air. A sharp crescent of ice shot forward, aiming to encase Iris in a block of solid frost. Iris countered with a wave of her hand, sending a torrent of flames to meet the oncoming ice. The two forces collided in an explosion of steam, the room briefly obscured by the hissing cloud.


    Out of the mist, Sofia charged, her sword a blur of icy blue as she closed the distance. Iris parried with a pillar of fire, the searing heat forcing Sofia to sidestep. But Sofia was relentless, slashing downward with her blade. The tip of Glacier¡¯s Edge grazed the ground, freezing the floor beneath Iris¡¯s feet and causing her to slip momentarily.


    Before Sofia could capitalize on the opening, Charles intervened. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a telekinetic blast toward Sofia, aiming to knock her off balance. Sofia, sensing the incoming attack, spun gracefully, using her momentum to deflect the telekinetic force with a quick upward slice of her sword. The surrounding air rippled with the clash of energies, but she remained unfazed, her focus unbroken.


    Seeing Sofia momentarily distracted by Charles¡¯s assault, Iris seized the opportunity. She conjured a cluster of fireballs in her hands, each one burning brighter than the last. With a powerful thrust, she launched them at Sofia, the fiery orbs streaking through the air like comets. Sofia reacted instinctively, raising Glacier¡¯s Edge to block the onslaught. The fireballs exploded on impact, flames cascading around her but unable to penetrate the shield of ice that her sword provided.


    As the flames died down, Sofia smirked, confident in her defense. But Iris wasn¡¯t done. Using the cover of the smoke and embers, she darted to the side, her flames condensed into a spear as she threw it towards Sofia, as she barely managed to parry it.


    Sofia barely had time to recover when Iris sprang her surprise. With a sudden burst of speed, Iris closed the distance between them, her hand glowing with intense heat. But instead of striking Sofia, she spun around and hurled a fireball past her, straight at Wallace.


    Sofia¡¯s eyes widened in shock as she realized Iris¡¯s true target. The fireball slammed into Wallace¡¯s back, the heat searing through the remnants of Lullaby¡¯s influence. Wallace gasped, his eyes snapping open as the fiery impact jolted him back to reality, the nightmare that had held him captive shattered in an instant.


    As the final haunting notes of the music box faded into silence, the air in the room grew thick with an ominous presence. From the darkness surrounding Lullaby, a grotesque shape began to emerge, the very fabric of reality warping and twisting around it. The creature that crawled forth was a manifestation of nightmares given flesh, a monstrosity born from the deepest fears and twisted by the malevolent power of the artifact.


    The monster towered over the room, its body a mass of shifting, shadowy tendrils that writhed and coiled like living serpents. Each tendril ended in a sharp, barbed tip, dripping with an inky substance that seemed to sizzle and evaporate as it touched the ground. Its form was ever-changing, a chaotic blend of shapes that refused to stay still, as if it were a living nightmare constantly reshaping itself.


    At its core, the creature had a vaguely humanoid shape, though horribly distorted. Its skin was a sickly, mottled gray, stretched tight over bones that jutted out at unnatural angles. Its limbs were long and sinewy, ending in clawed hands that twitched with anticipation. The head was the most horrifying part, an oversized, elongated skull with no eyes, only deep, hollow sockets that seemed to draw in all light. Its mouth was a gaping maw filled with rows of jagged, uneven teeth, and from it issued a low, guttural growl that resonated with the very essence of dread.


    As the creature fully materialized, it released a bone-chilling shriek, a sound that clawed at the mind and sent shivers down the spine. The scream was a call to those still caught in Lullaby''s nightmare, a beacon to the monster''s insatiable hunger. It fed on fear and despair, drawn to those who had been weakened by the artifact''s curse. The surrounding air seemed to vibrate with its presence, an oppressive force that pressed down on the room like a tangible weight.


    The creature moved with unnatural speed, its tendrils lashing out in every direction, searching for its prey. It was a predator born from the darkest corners of the mind, relentless and driven by a single purpose, to consume the fear-tainted souls of those still trapped in their nightmares.


    The monstrous entity, sensing that the room was devoid of any suitable prey, let out a low, guttural snarl. Its tendrils, still twitching with unfulfilled hunger, recoiled back into the shadowy mass of its body. With a sickening squelch, it began to retract, slithering back toward the cursed music box from which it had emerged. As it vanished, the room''s atmosphere shifted, leaving behind a cold, suffocating silence. Wallace, still reeling from the nightmare¡¯s grip, watched in horrified awe, barely comprehending how close he had come to death. But there was no time for relief¡ªanother horror was about to unfold.


    ¡°Damn it, damn it, I won¡¯t let it end like this!¡± Calum¡¯s voice rang out, filled with a desperate, almost crazed determination. He grabbed Sofia by the neck, his grip tight and unyielding.


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Sofia screamed, panic rising in her voice as she struggled against him. But Calum¡¯s resolve was unbreakable. From his pocket, he pulled out a syringe filled with a viscous black liquid. Without hesitation, he jammed the needle into Sofia¡¯s neck, the syringe plunging deep into her flesh.


    The injection site bubbled and frothed as the black liquid spread rapidly through her veins. Sofia¡¯s screams turned into strangled gasps as her body convulsed, the transformation taking hold almost instantly. Wallace¡¯s eyes widened in horror as he recognized the symptoms¡ªthe grotesque twisting of limbs, the unnatural bulging of muscles, the way her skin began to pale and crack like ice. It was madness, pure and unchecked, consuming her from the inside out.


    ¡°Please¡­ kill me¡­ I don¡¯t want to be a monster¡­¡± Sofia¡¯s voice, distorted by the transformation, echoed with the same haunting plea Wallace had heard once before. Emma¡¯s voice. The words overlapped in his mind, pulling him back to that fateful day, the memory of Emma¡¯s last moments before he was forced to end her suffering.


    But Sofia¡¯s transformation was happening at a terrifying pace. Her body elongated, bones cracking and reshaping beneath her icy skin. Her eyes, once vibrant with life, dulled to a lifeless blue, glazed over with a thin layer of frost. Her flesh took on a translucent, crystalline quality, and veins of ice spread out from the wound on her neck, crawling across her body like a spider¡¯s web.


    Glacier¡¯s Edge, still clutched in her hand, began to fuse with her changing form. The blade, once an extension of her will, now became a part of her, embedding itself into her arm and extending outward as if it were a natural growth. The sword¡¯s icy power merged with Sofia¡¯s madness-infused body, transforming her arm into a grotesque weapon of frozen death. The blade itself elongated and warped, jagged shards of ice sprouting from her flesh, giving her the appearance of a monstrous, ice-covered titan.


    Calum, seeing the horror he had unleashed, staggered back, fear finally breaking through his resolve. He turned and fled, leaving Sofia to her fate, her form continuing to twist and mutate in his wake.


    Sofia¡¯s mouth opened, but instead of words, a guttural roar escaped her lips¡ªa sound of pure agony and rage, of humanity lost. Her body was no longer her own; she had become a creature of the cold, an embodiment of the madness that had been forced upon her.


    Wallace, heart pounding in his chest, tightened his grip on his weapon. The echoes of Emma¡¯s final plea still rang in his ears, but he knew what had to be done. There was no saving Sofia now¡ªshe had become a monster, and like Emma before her, she would have to be put down before she could cause more harm.


    With grim determination, Wallace steeled himself for what was to come.


    As Calum burst through the door, expecting to find the familiar corridor of the building, he was instead met with an entirely different scene¡ªan expansive library that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and ink, a subtle reminder of the countless stories and secrets contained within the ancient tomes lining the towering shelves. Each bookshelf was intricately carved, the dark wood adorned with gold inlays that shimmered softly in the dim light.


    The library was bathed in an ethereal glow, emanating from the countless butterflies that flitted through the air. These butterflies were unlike any Calum had ever seen¡ªeach one a different color, their wings iridescent and luminous. They moved gracefully, leaving trails of light in their wake, their delicate forms weaving through the shelves and around the towering stacks of books as if they were the very soul of the library itself. The glow they cast was calming yet otherworldly, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the floor.


    At the center of this vast, seemingly infinite space was a large, ornately carved desk. The wood was dark, polished to a mirror-like finish, and inlaid with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change as the light hit them. Behind the desk sat a man, his presence both commanding and serene. It was Fate, the Bookkeeper. His gaze was unwavering, piercing through Calum with an intensity that made the air seem heavier, as if the very room was waiting in anticipation.


    Fate¡¯s appearance was as enigmatic as the library itself. His eyes were ancient, filled with the weight of countless lifetimes, yet they held a quiet, knowing calm. He did not speak, but his silence was powerful, carrying the weight of inevitability and the inescapable nature of destiny.


    Calum, his breath quickening with panic, took a step back, his eyes darting around the room as he realized the trap he had unwittingly walked into. The butterflies, though beautiful, now seemed to encircle him, their glow intensifying as if they were attuned to his growing fear.


    ¡°Damn it, it¡¯s you! Let me out of this place, Bookkeeper!¡± Calum yelled, his voice echoing through the vastness of the library. The desperation in his tone was palpable, but Fate remained unmoved, his expression unchanged.


    The only response Calum received was the soft rustle of pages turning, as if the library itself was acknowledging his presence, the endless books whispering secrets that only the Bookkeeper could understand. The door behind Calum had vanished, leaving him with no escape, trapped in this labyrinth of knowledge and destiny.


    ¡°As it is written, so shall it end. Your story closes here, Calum,¡± Fate declared, his voice carrying an icy finality.


    Calum¡¯s eyes widened in terror and rage. ¡°You bast¡ª¡± he began to shout, but his words were cut off as a massive golden spear materialized from thin air and drove itself deep into his back. The impact was brutal, sending a jolt of pain through his entire body. Before he could react, another spear appeared, then another, each one embedding itself into his flesh with relentless precision. The golden spears seemed to flow out of nowhere, a ceaseless torrent of divine retribution.


    Calum¡¯s body was wracked with spasms as the spears continued to pierce him, the sheer number of them ensuring that his suffering was prolonged. Despite the agony, he was forced to remain conscious, unable to escape the torment that enveloped him. Each new spear seemed to multiply his pain, creating a horrifying symphony of suffering that echoed through the library¡¯s grand expanse.


    Fate approached slowly, his presence commanding and calm amidst the chaos. He walked with deliberate steps, his gaze locked on Calum¡¯s with a chilling, impassive focus. The golden light from the spears cast shifting shadows across his face, highlighting the cold resolve in his eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Fate said, his tone devoid of sympathy. ¡°I will add your entire organization to the obituary. Such is the destiny of anyone who dares to harm her.¡± His words were a final decree, sealing Calum¡¯s fate with a cold inevitability.


    As Fate turned and began to walk away, the spears that had impaled Calum began to dissolve. They transformed into delicate golden butterflies, their luminous wings fluttering softly as they ascended into the air. The ethereal creatures swirled around the library, their gentle flight a stark contrast to the brutality that had just transpired.


    Calum¡¯s body, now riddled with gaping wounds, slumped to the floor, the blood pooling beneath him in a dark, spreading the stain. The once pristine library floor was marred by the crimson flood, a grim reminder of the violence that had taken place.


    Fate¡¯s footsteps grew fainter as he moved away, his form gradually receding into the shadows of the vast library. The butterflies continued their ascent, their soft glow fading into the distant recesses of the room.


    The library, now silent except for the faint rustling of the butterflies, was left with only the haunting remains of Calum¡¯s final moments. As the last of the golden light disappeared, so too did the last vestiges of hope for those who would dare to challenge the Bookkeeper.

 Chapter 21-Artifact 0-3

    The madness-infected Sofia staggered forward, her once human form now twisted into something grotesque and unrecognizable. Her skin, once warm and flushed with life, had turned a pale, icy blue, marred by jagged veins of frost that crept across her body like a spreading disease. The Glacier''s Edge, her once majestic sword, had fused with her arm, becoming an extension of the icy horror she had become. The blade now jutted out from her forearm, its edge glinting with an unnatural, frosty sheen, as if eager to slice through flesh and bone.


    With each lumbering step Sofia took, the surrounding temperature plummeted. The air grew heavy with the biting chill of deep winter, and a thin layer of frost began to form on the walls and floor. The very atmosphere seemed to freeze in her presence, the once vibrant world now gripped by the encroaching cold. Every footfall she made left a trail of crystalline ice, spreading out like a spider''s web, turning the ground beneath her into a frozen wasteland.


    Wallace felt the chill before he saw her, a creeping cold that sent a shiver down his spine. He glanced back at the abomination Sofia had become, his mind racing. ¡°Alright, kids,¡± Wallace began, his voice tinged with urgency. ¡°You haven¡¯t been taught this yet, but let¡¯s go over the basics of dealing with a frenzied. The first rule is to kill them before they transform, clearly, we¡¯ve failed at that. The second rule, if you¡¯re alone, which I essentially am, is to run away.¡±


    Without another word, Wallace scooped up Iris and Charles, their protests silenced by the sheer panic in his movements. He bolted towards his office, the cold air biting at his heels as Sofia¡¯s monstrous form lumbered closer. The door slammed shut behind them, a thin barrier against the advancing frost.


    ¡°What are you going to do against that thing?¡± Iris asked, her voice trembling.


    Wallace, trying to keep the mood light, gave her a weak smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to do something incredibly stupid. Don¡¯t tell Jonathan, or he¡¯ll definitely dock my pay,¡± he quipped, though there was an edge of truth in his words.


    With a deep breath, Wallace pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a tattoo hidden beneath. The ink was dark and intricate, shaped like a storybook. As he touched it, the tattoo seemed to pulse with a faint, otherworldly light, as if the stories it contained were alive, waiting to be unleashed. The very air around it seemed to hum with power, a stark contrast to the icy dread that seeped through the walls.


    ¡°The Bookkeeper gave me something a while back,¡± Wallace began, his voice tense with the weight of the moment. ¡°He said when I used it, I¡¯ll have to repay him, I don¡¯t know what this artifact does, haven¡¯t a clue what horrors it might unleash, but if there¡¯s ever a moment to gamble, it¡¯s now.¡± He paused, his eyes narrowing as he prepared himself for whatever would come. ¡°Come to me, Artifact 0-3, Book of Future Miseries!¡± Wallace¡¯s voice rang out, commanding and resolute, as he invoked the mysterious power that had been lying in wait for this very instant.


    The tattoo on Wallace¡¯s chest pulsed with a vibrant, eerie light, the glow intensifying until it was almost blinding. The light coalesced and solidified, forming into a book that materialized in his hands. It was a beautiful red book, its cover adorned with intricate gold designs that shimmered ominously in the dim light of the room. The book looked eerily similar to the one Iris had, and the sight of it sent a wave of terror crashing over her.


    ¡°Wallace, you can¡¯t use that book! It¡¯s dangerous!¡± Iris cried out, her voice laced with fear and desperation.


    Wallace glanced at her, a somber resolve in his eyes. ¡°Any deal with the Bookkeeper is dangerous, Iris, but he always gives you exactly what you need. No matter the price, I must save you,¡± he replied, his tone steady yet tinged with the weight of the decision he was making.


    The book seemed to respond to Wallace¡¯s intent, its pages flipping rapidly on their own, as if guided by an unseen force. The rustling of the pages echoed through the room, each turn building a tension that thickened the surrounding air. Finally, the pages stopped, landing on a particular one. The words on the page were written in a language none of them could read, ancient and foreign, yet they seemed to hum with power, as if the very letters were alive.


    At the center of the page was an image, a pair of angel wings, pure and radiant, surrounded by a crown of thorns and a wreath of sunflowers. The thorns curled menacingly around the wings, while the sunflowers seemed to glow with an ethereal light, the juxtaposition of beauty and pain encapsulated in the illustration. Wallace stared at the image for a moment, as if absorbing the gravity of what was to come, then he placed his hand on the page.


    The moment his fingers touched the parchment, a surge of power erupted from the book. The energy was overwhelming, filling the room with a blinding light and a force that rattled the walls. Wallace''s body began to change almost instantly, as if the power from the book was rewriting his very essence. His deep blue eyes shifted, the color draining away to be replaced by a glowing, otherworldly purple that seemed to pierce through the shadows. The exhaustion that had lined his face, the dark bags under his eyes, vanished as if they had never existed. His skin took on a healthier, more youthful hue, the years of stress and battle-worn fatigue stripped away in an instant.


    Wallace¡¯s hair began to grow, the blonde strands lengthening until they fell around his shoulders, streaks of jet black weaving through them like ink spilling into the water. The transformation didn¡¯t stop there, large, magnificent angel wings burst forth from his back, their feathers shimmering with silvery light, each one edged with a delicate, almost imperceptible glow. A halo appeared above his head, not the typical golden circle, but a ring of crackling energy that hovered just above his hair, flickering between light and shadow.


    In his hand, a weapon materialized, a spear, long and slender, its shaft made of polished silver that glinted in the ethereal light. Attached to the spear was a crimson flag, its fabric rippling as if caught in an invisible breeze, the deep red color contrasting sharply with the purity of his angelic form. The flag was not just a banner but a symbol, drenched in the blood of countless battles, carrying with it the weight of sacrifice and the resolve to protect.


    Wallace stood there, transformed and radiating a power that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The surrounding air seemed to vibrate with energy, the sheer force of his presence pushing back the encroaching cold of Sofia¡¯s madness. He was no longer just a man, he was something far more, a being of immense power, forged in the crucible of desperation and determination. And with this power, he would face whatever horrors lay ahead, for the sake of those he swore to protect.


    ¡°I appreciate your previous help, but this time, stay inside,¡± Wallace said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he stepped out of his office, determination etched into every line of his face. He was about to face the frenzied beast head-on, knowing full well the peril that awaited him.


    As he exited, Charles turned to Iris, his brow furrowed with concern. ¡°Iris, you recognized that book, didn¡¯t you? You¡¯ve seen it before, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Iris hesitated, her eyes clouded with worry. ¡°I don¡¯t know the full extent of the price he¡¯ll have to pay, but I¡¯m afraid it might be more than he can bear,¡± she admitted softly, her voice tinged with fear for what Wallace might endure.


    Charles nodded, though his own concerns were far from satisfied. ¡°There are so many questions I want to ask you, but now isn¡¯t the time. Let¡¯s just hope Wallace can pull through,¡± he said, his tone grim but hopeful as he turned his attention back to the door Wallace had disappeared through.


    The air crackled with tension as Wallace faced the frenzied Sofia, her once-human form now twisted into a monstrous abomination. Ice crystals formed in the surrounding air, her eyes glowing with a cold, malevolent light. The temperature dropped further as she lifted her hand, summoning shards of ice that hovered in the air, ready to strike.


    ¡°So, we¡¯re doing this, then?¡± Wallace muttered to himself, his voice steady despite the surrounding chaos. He flexed his fingers, feeling the power of the artifact coursing through him, strengthening his resolve. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Sofia snarled, her body jerking as she sent a volley of ice shards hurtling toward Wallace. He darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectiles as they embedded themselves in the walls, exploding on impact and sending icy shrapnel flying in all directions.


    ¡°That¡¯s new,¡± Wallace commented, his tone almost casual as he assessed her abilities. ¡°Cryokinesis with a bit of a bang, nice touch.¡±


    Sofia didn¡¯t respond, her mind lost to the madness as she launched another attack. Wallace unfurled his angel wings, the glowing feathers shielding him from the next barrage of exploding ice. He gritted his teeth as the force of the blasts pushed him back, the ground cracking beneath his feet.


    ¡°Can¡¯t let her keep this up,¡± Wallace muttered. He raised his hand, and the ground beneath Sofia began to tremble. ¡°Briar Seal!¡± he shouted, his voice echoing through the frozen air.


    Thorny vines erupted from the ground, twisting and curling as they snaked toward Sofia. The briars glowed with a dark energy, their barbed tendrils seeking out their target with a malevolent intent. They latched onto Sofia¡¯s legs, their touch draining her strength and sealing her abilities as they coiled tighter around her.


    Sofia screamed, a primal, inhuman sound that reverberated through the room. She thrashed against the briars, her ice shards shattering uselessly as her power was suppressed. But then, with a surge of strength, she ripped free from the vines, her body rapidly healing from the damage as she sent another wave of exploding ice at Wallace.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Wallace grunted as the ice exploded around him, his wings shielding him from the worst of the blast. But the force of the explosion sent him skidding backward, his feet struggling to find purchase on the slick, frozen ground.


    ¡°Alright, looks like I¡¯ll need a bit more firepower,¡± Wallace said, shaking off the debris. He focused, his eyes narrowing as he summoned the next power. ¡°Sunflower!¡±


    Bright, golden sunflowers sprouted from the surrounding ground, their petals glowing with an intense light. The flowers turned toward Sofia, and in unison, they fired beams of condensed light directly at her. The beams sliced through the air, burning through the ice and searing the ground as they honed in on their target.


    Sofia roared in pain as the light beams struck her, burning through her flesh and disrupting her healing. She staggered, her icy armor melting under the relentless assault. But even as the light tore at her, she refused to back down, her madness driving her forward.


    Wallace watched her with grim determination, his mind racing as he planned his next move. ¡°You¡¯re not making this easy, are you?¡± he said, a note of respect in his voice. ¡°But I can¡¯t afford to lose here. Not with their lives on the line.¡±


    Wallace tightened his grip on the spear as its name came to him, almost as if the weapon itself whispered it into his mind. ¡°Joan of Arc,¡± he murmured, feeling a surge of power pulse through the weapon. ¡°It¡¯s fitting, isn¡¯t it? A warrior¡¯s name for a warrior¡¯s fight.¡±


    Sofia, or rather the monstrous entity she had become, snarled at him, her breath clouding in the frigid air. She was a fearsome sight, her body a grotesque amalgamation of ice and flesh, her once-human features distorted beyond recognition. Her wounds, though severe, were already beginning to knit themselves back together, the twisted power of madness fueling her regeneration.


    Wallace knew he couldn¡¯t let this fight drag on. Every moment he delayed gave her more time to recover and adapt. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, his wings propelling him as he closed the distance between them. Sofia reacted instantly, her claws slashing at him with deadly precision, but Wallace was ready.


    He twisted in midair, evading her strike by a hair¡¯s breadth, and thrust Joan of Arc toward her. The spear¡¯s tip glowed with a faint light as it struck her icy hide, and Wallace felt the weapon¡¯s power surge through him. A series of weak spots began to form on Sofia¡¯s body, glowing faintly as the spear¡¯s power took hold.


    ¡°There we go,¡± Wallace muttered, satisfaction lacing his tone. ¡°Let¡¯s light those up.¡±¡±


    Sofia roared in fury, her healing factor struggling to keep up with the rapidly appearing weak spots. She lashed out with another wave of exploding ice, but Wallace was already moving. He leaped back, his wings beating furiously as he called upon Sunflower once more.


    Golden sunflowers erupted from the surrounding ground, their petals unfurling with a radiant glow. The beams of condensed light shot forth again, this time aimed directly at the weak spots Joan of Arc had created. The light seared through the air, striking Sofia with pinpoint accuracy.


    She screamed in agony as the beams pierced her, the energy disrupting her regeneration and tearing through her icy armor. But even as she staggered under the assault, her body continued to heal, the madness within her refusing to let her fall so easily.


    Wallace gritted his teeth, knowing he had to press the advantage. He slammed his spear into the ground, summoning Briar Seal once more. The thorny vines erupted from the earth, twisting and writhing as they latched onto Sofia¡¯s limbs. The briars glowed with dark, malevolent energy, draining her strength and further sealing her abilities.


    Sofia struggled against the vines, her body convulsing as she fought to break free. But the combined power of Sunflower and Briar Seal was too much, even for her enhanced strength. The beams of light continued to rain down on her, each one striking a weak spot with devastating precision.


    ¡°Come on, just a little more,¡± Wallace urged himself, sweat pouring down his brow as he maintained the relentless assault. He knew she was close to breaking, but he couldn¡¯t afford to let up, not for a second.


    Sofia¡¯s movements grew sluggish, her healing factor finally beginning to falter under the onslaught. Her ice armor cracked and shattered, the weak spots glowing brighter as they took more damage. Wallace could see the end was near, but he needed one final push.


    With a shout, he lunged forward, Joan of Arc raised high. The spear¡¯s tip glowed with a brilliant light as he drove it into Sofia¡¯s chest, directly into one of the weak spots. The impact sent a shockwave through her body, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.


    Then, with a blinding flash of light, the weak spots exploded, sending shards of ice and flesh flying in all directions. Sofia let out one final, agonized scream before she crumpled to the ground, her monstrous form finally succumbing to the damage.


    Wallace stood over her, breathing heavily, his wings drooping from exhaustion. He watched as the last remnants of Sofia¡¯s madness-fueled transformation faded away, leaving behind only the broken, lifeless body of the woman she once was.


    He lowered his spear, the glow fading from Joan of Arc as the battle came to an end. ¡°Rest in peace, Sofia,¡± he whispered, his voice tinged with sorrow. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it had to end this way.¡±


    As soon as the battle ended, the power from the red book dissipated, and Wallace felt the transformation reverse, his wings retracting, the spear dissolving into nothingness, and his hair returning to its normal length. Exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The adrenaline that had fueled him moments before now left him drained, every muscle aching from the fight.


    Iris and Charles, having stayed hidden during the chaos, burst from the room the moment they sensed the battle was over. They rushed to Wallace, worry etched on their faces.


    "Kids, cover your ears," Wallace panted, still trying to catch his breath.


    Without hesitation, Iris and Charles obeyed, covering their ears as Wallace muttered to himself, ¡°Fuck yeah, it''s over. God damn, that was draining.¡± His words were laced with a mix of relief and triumph, though neither child could hear him. Still, they could see the spark of victory in his eyes and the tension easing from his shoulders.


    He looked up at them, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Alright, you can uncover your ears."


    Iris and Charles did so, their relief evident as they watched Wallace slowly get back to his feet, though he swayed slightly from the effort.


    "So, what''s the plan?" Charles asked, his voice tinged with concern. "Based on that announcement, I bet the facility is crawling with individuals like those two."


    Wallace nodded, wiping sweat from his brow as he considered their situation. ¡°I doubt it. I know Nikolai too well. He''s ambitious, sure, but he''s also strategic. I guarantee we¡¯re not the only facility he¡¯s attacking. He¡¯s spread himself thin, aiming only for core figures.¡±


    ¡°Core figures?¡± Iris echoed, her eyes wide with worry.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Wallace confirmed, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. ¡°He probably targeted me, your teacher, and maybe sent an extra or two for the Slayer if he found out about her. I¡¯d estimate there are four others here, max. Every other Awakened brought here will be low power and easy to deal with¡±


    Charles frowned, his curiosity piqued. ¡°You seem very sure of yourself. How do you know Nikolai so well?¡±


    A shadow passed over Wallace¡¯s face, a flicker of old wounds that hadn¡¯t healed. ¡°He used to be a member of A.E.G.I.S. But that was before the Invidia raid. His soon-to-be wife died during that raid, and after that, he, like many others, didn¡¯t trust the leaders'' motivations anymore. So, he left, along with a lot of other agents. So many left, we couldn''t manage or regulate them.¡±


    Iris, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up, her voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a knife. ¡°Was his wife¡¯s name Emma?¡±


    Wallace froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he might collapse under the weight of the memories that the name dredged up. Guilt and despair clouded his expression as he whispered, ¡°Yes¡­ her name was Emma.¡±


    The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of Wallace¡¯s confession hanging in the air. The implications of his connection to Nikolai, and to Emma, were clear. Whatever had happened during the Invidia raid had left scars that ran deep, and now those old wounds were being ripped open again.


    Wallace''s eyes narrowed, a mixture of curiosity and dread tightening his features. ¡°How do you know her name?¡± he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Iris hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ¡°When you were trapped in that nightmare, you were apologizing to her. After that, I just had a hunch.¡±


    Wallace let out a heavy sigh, the weight of her words pressing down on him. ¡°For a kid, you¡¯re too perceptive,¡± he muttered, rubbing his temples as if to ease the headache of buried memories. ¡°During the Invidia raid¡­ Emma transformed into a Frenzied. I had to kill her before she could harm anyone, but¡­ I still regret it to this day. I never told Nikolai. I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    His voice cracked, the pain in his heart spilling over as a tear traced a path down his cheek. ¡°We were best friends. I was supposed to be his best man at their wedding. Just thinking about telling him¡­ it broke me. I couldn¡¯t do it.¡±


    The confession hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Wallace''s anguish was palpable, and Iris and Charles could only watch, feeling the depth of his sorrow but unable to offer any real comfort. There were no words that could heal such a wound.


    But Wallace knew they had to keep moving. He straightened up, wiping the tear away and steeling himself. ¡°We have to get going. Stay behind me, and I¡¯ll deal with any enemies we see.¡±


    As they walked down the hall, the tension in the air was thick, every shadow a potential threat. Wallace moved with the careful grace of a seasoned soldier, his senses sharp despite the emotional turmoil. But then, just as they turned a corner, he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in shock.


    Without a word, Wallace quickly placed his hands over Iris and Charles''s eyes, shielding them from the sight that lay before them. On the cold, blood-splattered floor was the mangled corpse of Calum. His body was riddled with countless holes, barely recognizable as human. But what caught Wallace¡¯s attention most was the brooch, a delicate butterfly design, that had been viciously stabbed into Calum¡¯s eye.


    ¡°The Bookkeeper got to him first, it seems,¡± Wallace murmured, more to himself than to the others. ¡°That¡¯s one less threat we have to worry about.¡±


    His voice was steady, but the sight had clearly shaken him. The Bookkeeper, though he barely acted himself, Wallace knew when he did his methods were intense. He tightened his grip on the kids, gently guiding them away from the grisly scene.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look,¡± he said softly, his tone a mix of command and comfort. ¡°It¡¯s not a pleasant sight.¡±


    As they moved past the corpse, Wallace kept their eyes covered until they were safely out of view. He knew that the nightmares from this day would haunt them all, but he was determined to shield them from as much horror as he could. They had already seen too much, and he refused to let them bear any more of this twisted world¡¯s cruelty.

 Chapter 22-Dead God

    The gymnasium was filled with quiet tension as the clock inched toward 6:59. The class waited in anticipation and boredom, the air thick with the expectation of Maxwell¡¯s arrival. Ivan sat perched on a coffin, idly summoning and dismissing objects crafted from bones, his fingers dancing with the eerie precision of his ability. Beside him, the twins, Sarah, and the now-recovered Emily, engaged in an endless game of rock-paper-scissors. No matter how many rounds they played, their minds were so in sync that neither could claim victory, the game devolving into a ritual of frustration.


    Ashe, ever vigilant, kept a close watch on his sisters, ensuring their mischief remained at bay. His eyes flicked between them and the room, a silent guardian prepared to intervene at the first sign of trouble. Rook, leaning against the wall, was engrossed in a well-worn book, flipping through the pages with a practiced ease. The story¡ªa predictable tale of an orphan discovering his destiny as the chosen one¡ªbarely held his interest, but it was enough to pass the time. Cynthia, sprawled on the floor beside him, had spun a soft blanket from her webs, her eyes drooping as she listened to Rook¡¯s monotonous reading, the words lulling her into a state of near-sleep.


    Noah continued his stretches, unable to sit still, his muscles tense with nervous energy. Every second that ticked by heightened his anxiety, his senses attuned to the faintest sounds around him. He strained to catch any sign of movement or a footstep approaching the gymnasium doors. The whole class was on edge, each dealing with the wait in their own way, but all sharing the same underlying question, where was Maxwell, and why was he keeping them waiting?


    ¡°Where is he, I¡¯m so bored, you don''t think he chickened out of the fight, right?¡± Cynthia complained.


    ¡°Be patient, I¡¯ve noticed he¡¯s been training hard lately and rapidly improving, there''s no way someone like that would simply run away,¡± Ivan said reassuringly.


    At 7:00, The silence was broken by the sudden, jarring sound of an explosion elsewhere in the facility. The blast reverberated through the building, shattering the reinforced doors and allowing a chaotic swarm of invaders to flood in.


    The intruders came in waves, a mix of heavily armed operatives, Awakened individuals, and twisted hybrids from the Beta facility. In total five individuals seemed much more powerful than the others. Each individual had their own sinister presence.


    Leading the charge was a formidable man whose muscular frame was adorned with crimson tattoos, swirling like thorny vines across his body. His left arm was a sophisticated prosthetic, seamlessly blending with his flesh to enhance his mechanical prowess. His head, resembling a black crow with beady, penetrating eyes, was either a mask or his actual visage, an unsettling sight that exuded menace.


    Trailing behind him was a woman draped in a flowing black dress that sparkled like a starlit sky. The dress seemed to ripple with an otherworldly grace as she moved, its shimmering fabric catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. Her wings, once black but now painted white, were a stark and eerie contrast to her otherwise dark attire. The halo perched atop her head was wired to a headband. Her long, blonde hair framed a face marked by piercing green eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a mixture of cold calculation and unsettling calmness.


    Next to her was a cloaked figure whose maroon cloak swirled ominously with each step. The cloak was a deep, rich color, almost as if it absorbed the surrounding light, creating an aura of secrecy. Their face was hidden behind a smiley face mask, which seemed to mock the very gravity of the situation. Beneath the cloak, a sleek black ensemble clung to their form, with various knives strapped to their belt. Each blade glinted with a deadly promise, ready to be drawn at a moment¡¯s notice.


    On the other side stood a man whose appearance was as vibrant as it was menacing. His hair was a wild, spiky green that seemed to defy gravity, complementing his intense purple eyes that sparkled with an almost feral gleam. His face was adorned with an assortment of piercings, each adding to his edgy, unpredictable appearance. A large scorpion tail, its segmented segments moving with a life of their own, extended from his back, adding an extra layer of menace. He wore a black suit with a purple tie, an irregular choice that did little to diminish the aura of danger he exuded. In his hand, he carried a briefcase, its contents hidden but undoubtedly crucial to his mission.


    Finally, completing this disturbing lineup was a girl with long, wavy light blue hair that cascaded down her back like a flowing river. Her striking red eyes were a sharp contrast to her otherwise serene appearance. She wore a long, light blue dress that flowed elegantly around her, with each step accentuated by the click of her red heels. Clutched in one hand was a teddy bear, an inconsistent companion to her otherwise unsettling demeanor, and in her mouth, she leisurely licked a lollipop, the image of innocence juxtaposed with the violence that surrounded her.


    The announcement over the facility''s intercom only added to the tension ¡°All students, hide within your dorms. If you are out in the open, proceed to the nearest designated bunker. All agents, intruders have broken in; prepare for combat at the entrance elevator.¡±


    The intruders moved swiftly, their steps silent and purposeful as they reached the elevator leading down into the heart of the facility. With practiced precision, they retrieved a series of explosive artificial artifacts, each one brimming with destructive energy. They methodically placed the devices along the elevator''s structural points, and with a synchronized nod, triggered the detonation.


    The metallic groan of the elevator giving way echoed through the shaft as it plummeted, crashing violently into the bottom floor with a deafening roar. Smoke and debris billowed out, shrouding the intruders as they leaped into the void, descending rapidly down the now-destroyed elevator shaft.


    They landed with fluid grace, quickly dispersing into the shadows before the facility''s agents could converge. Moving like phantoms through the smoke, they split into smaller groups, vanishing into the labyrinthine corridors, ready to execute their mission before a full response could be mounted.


    The gymnasium was plunged into chaos as the sudden announcement blared through the speakers, jolting the students into a state of shock. Panic washed over them like a tidal wave, with only Ivan remaining calm amidst the turmoil. While his face remained composed, his eyes narrowed as he took stock of the situation, mentally calculating their odds.


    "What a nuisance," Ivan muttered under his breath. His tone remained even, though a sharp edge of irritation was apparent. "Listen up, kids. I don¡¯t know where Maxwell is, but we¡¯re staying here. I¡¯ll defend you, so don¡¯t do anything reckless. Got it?" His voice carried an authority that left no room for argument.


    The students nodded, their fear momentarily subsiding as they placed their trust in Ivan. However, their fragile sense of security was shattered just moments later when the gymnasium doors were violently kicked open.


    The man with green hair and a menacing scorpion tail strode into the room, his eyes scanning the gathered students with predatory intent. His gaze was cold, calculating¡ªsearching for someone specific.


    "What a fucking pain," Scorpian growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "He¡¯s not here, but I guess I can at least kill one of the high-priority targets." The way he spoke was casual, almost bored, as if murder was merely an inconvenience in his day.


    Ivan''s irritation flared. "I''d appreciate it if you wouldn¡¯t use such foul language in front of the kids," he snapped, rising from his seat on the coffin. His voice was calm, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.


    The intruder sneered, clearly unfazed by Ivan¡¯s words. "Ahem, fuck off. Oops, did I curse again? Now what will you do, you damned bastard?" His scorpion tail lashed out behind him, a clear indication of his readiness for violence.


    Ivan¡¯s eyes narrowed to slits, his annoyance deepening into something far more dangerous. Without a word, the ground beneath the intruder trembled as massive bone spikes erupted from the floor, aiming to impale him. Scorpian barely managed to dodge, his movements quick but not without effort. As he evaded, more weapons materialized in the air, spears, swords, and daggers, all crafted from the very bones Ivan commanded. Each weapon floated ominously, their sharpened points aimed directly at their target.


    "Don''t expect a painless death," Ivan said coldly, his voice now carrying a lethal promise. The room seemed to chill as he unleashed his deadly barrage, his bone-crafted arsenal homing in on the intruder with unyielding precision.


    Scorpion''s eyes widened as the bone weapons lunged toward him with lethal precision. He twisted his body with fluid, almost unnatural grace, narrowly evading a bone spear aimed at his heart. The air around him buzzed with the whoosh of blades and spikes as he ducked, sidestepped, and somersaulted through the onslaught. Each near miss only seemed to fuel his adrenaline, his scorpion tail snapping back and forth defensively.


    "You''re quicker than you look, old man," Scorpion taunted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he dodged another volley of bone-crafted weapons. "But you''re still just a second-rate babysitter."


    Ivan¡¯s expression remained stony, but his eyes sharpened as he intensified his attack. The bone spikes now erupted faster, their tips aimed to corner Scorpion and leave no room for escape. The weapons that missed their mark embedded themselves in the gym¡¯s walls and floor, transforming the space into a deadly forest of bone.


    "Your arrogance will be your downfall," Ivan replied icily, his voice calm as ever. He raised a hand, and a particularly large bone spear shot forward, aimed directly at Scorpion''s head. "I¡¯ve dealt with plenty like you, reckless, overconfident, and ultimately doomed."


    But Scorpion was already in motion, twisting his body mid-air with an inhuman dexterity. He narrowly avoided the spear, his scorpion tail coiling like a spring as he prepared to strike. "You talk too much, old man," he growled, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.


    As the bone weapons continued their relentless pursuit, Scorpion suddenly shifted tactics. Instead of purely evading, he began to weave closer to Ivan, dodging the attacks by the slimmest margins, closing the distance between them inch by inch. Ivan¡¯s eyes narrowed, sensing the change but confident in his assault. He sent a final wave of bone spikes, all converging on Scorpion at once.


    But Scorpion was ready. With a burst of speed, he dodged to the side, using the momentum to propel himself directly toward Ivan. His movements were a blur, every muscle coiled like a spring, propelling him forward with deadly precision. Before the older man could fully react, Scorpion¡¯s tail shot out like a viper, its barbed tip aimed squarely at Ivan¡¯s neck. The impact was swift and brutal, the tail piercing through with a sickening crunch.


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    Scorpion¡¯s lips curled into a victorious grin as he watched Ivan stagger, expecting to see the life drain from his eyes. "See? You¡¯re not so tough after all," he sneered, leaning in close as if to savor his triumph. "You should¡¯ve stayed out of my way."


    But his gloating was cut short when he noticed something alarming¡ªthere wasn¡¯t a single drop of blood. The look of triumph on Scorpion¡¯s face twisted into one of shock and disbelief. Ivan, still standing tall, reached up calmly, gripping the tail embedded in his neck. His fingers closed around the barbed end with iron strength, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled it free.


    Scorpion¡¯s eyes widened in horror as Ivan casually crushed the tail in his hand, the bones snapping like twigs beneath his grip. He didn¡¯t bleed. He didn¡¯t falter. Instead, Ivan¡¯s expression remained cold and unreadable as he shoved Scorpion back, sending him stumbling several feet away.


    "What the hell are you?" Scorpion spat, his voice laced with a rare note of fear as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. His mind raced, trying to make sense of how his lethal strike had been rendered utterly useless.


    Ivan¡¯s gaze remained steady, his voice calm and authoritative. "Children, please look away," he instructed, not taking his eyes off Scorpion for a second. "What¡¯s about to happen can be rather frightening the first time you see it."


    Scorpion¡¯s mind whirled as he watched the children obediently turn away, their trust in Ivan unwavering. The older man¡¯s composure was unnerving, his aura growing more menacing with each passing second. Scorpion felt a chill creep up his spine as Ivan took a step forward, the air around him seeming to grow heavier, and darker.


    Ivan¡¯s expression remained eerily calm as he reached up, his fingers brushing against the skin of his face. The children, now safely turned away, were spared the gruesome sight that was about to unfold. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to tug at the flesh, his movements almost gentle, as if peeling back the layers of a delicate mask.


    The skin stretched unnaturally, the fabric of humanity unraveling as Ivan continued to pull, his hand moving steadily downward. The tearing sound that followed was sickening, the kind of noise that sent shivers down the spine and stirred primal fears buried deep within. As the skin finally ripped away, it revealed the truth beneath, the hollow sockets of a skeletal face, empty and soulless, yet somehow more terrifying in its stark simplicity.


    Ivan discarded the tattered remains of his former visage, letting the false skin drop to the floor like a discarded garment. His skeletal face, now fully exposed, was a ghastly sight. The bone gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, devoid of any trace of life, yet brimming with a silent, ancient power. He moved with purpose, the skeletal structure of his head and neck stark against the eerie glow of the gymnasium lights.


    Next, Ivan turned his attention to his hands. The gloves that had once concealed them were now unnecessary, a flimsy barrier between his true form and the world. He slowly removed them, one finger at a time, until the gloves fell away, revealing the skeletal hands beneath. Each bone was perfectly preserved, the joints moving with the fluidity of a living being, yet with the cold precision of death itself.


    He flexed his fingers, the bones clicking softly with the motion, a sound that echoed ominously in the silent gym. The revelation of his true form sent a wave of terror rippling through the air, a reminder that the man they had seen moments before was merely a facade. He was not human, not in the way others were. He was a skeleton, an entity beyond life and death, standing as a harbinger of the inevitable end that awaited all.


    The revelation struck Scorpion like a physical blow. He recoiled, his earlier bravado crumbling in the face of this unearthly sight. The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening as Ivan¡¯s skeletal form fully emerged, a chilling testament to the fact that death itself had taken a human guise.


    Ivan, now stripped of his false skin, stood tall and unyielding, a being who had shed the trappings of mortality to reveal the raw, unvarnished truth. He was only a skeleton, but one that radiated an indomitable presence, as if he had stepped out of the forgotten legends to remind the living of the power that lay beyond the grave.


    Ivan¡¯s voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of menace that sent shivers through the room. ¡°All right, you can all look now,¡± he said, his tone deceptively calm. ¡°Just don¡¯t be too alarmed.¡±


    As the children slowly turned their gazes back, their shock was palpable. The sight of Ivan¡¯s skeletal form, though unusual, seemed oddly fitting given the strangeness of the Beta Facility. Yet, it was still an unsettling revelation.


    ¡°I am the king of the undead, a lich,¡± Ivan began, his voice carrying an echo of ancient power. ¡°A few years back, around thirty-two, I fought against the leader of A.E.G.I.S. With my undead army at my command, I believed I stood a chance. But it was a one-sided battle. He defeated me single-handedly, yet instead of destroying me, he offered me a position to work for him. What an odd human, offering a monster a job,¡± Ivan chuckled darkly, the sound a rasping echo in the cold, sterile air.


    Scorpion, taken aback by the revelation, stood rigidly, his mind racing to adjust to the new reality. He knew he needed to act, to overcome this formidable foe.


    Ivan¡¯s gaze turned cold, his expression hardening. ¡°Now, I¡¯ve asked you repeatedly to cease your profanity, yet you persisted. For that, I will kill you and leave no traces.¡± His voice dropped to a chilling whisper as he walked toward his coffin.


    The coffin was an ancient relic, its surface a foreboding black stone, weathered and cracked, etched with intricate, arcane symbols that pulsed with a faint, eerie red glow. The stone seemed to ooze an unsettling aura of dread, with deep, rust-colored stains hinting at centuries of dark history. Numerous golden chains, tarnished with age, bound the coffin, their presence a grim reminder of the power contained within.


    Ivan approached the coffin with deliberate, measured steps. His bony fingers extended, morphing into a key with a metallic glint. He inserted it into the lock and turned with a smooth, deliberate motion. The lid creaked open, revealing a pool of blood within. The blood was dark and thick, swirling with an almost sentient malice. Small, incomprehensible screams echoed faintly from the depths of the pool, an unsettling chorus that added to the oppressive atmosphere.


    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± Ivan declared, his voice carrying a tone of finality. ¡°Artifact 0-1, Blood of the Dead God.¡±


    As he spoke, the air around the coffin seemed to grow colder, the scent of iron growing stronger. The children shivered, their faces pale with a mix of fear and awe. Ivan¡¯s skeletal hand hovered over the pool of blood, a dark promise of what was to come.


    "In my opinion, among every artifact in this world, this one alone stands as the strongest," Ivan said with a calm certainty as he dipped his skeletal hand into the pool of blood.


    The moment his hand touched the blood, it began to disintegrate, the bones crumbling into dust as he pushed his arm deeper until it was submerged halfway to his elbow. The blood within the coffin began to violently shake and bubble, as if awakening from a deep slumber. Then, with a sudden surge, a handle made of interlocking bones emerged from the depths, dripping with the thick, dark liquid. As Ivan pulled his arm free, the blood was swiftly absorbed into the handle, leaving only the bone-crafted grip resting in the center of the coffin. He grasped it, and as he did, the air around him grew thick with the weight of a thousand voices, each one screaming in his mind. Unlike before, he could now clearly understand their words, a cacophony of anguish and despair.


    "Now, children," Ivan began, his voice steady as he addressed the class, seemingly oblivious to the battle at hand, "when engaging in combat, it is wise to use artifacts in conjunction with your natural abilities. Artifacts are graded on a scale from 0 to 4, with grade 0 representing cataclysmic power and grade 4 being rather mundane, holding little significance. We also have artificial artifacts, which generally don¡¯t exceed grade 2, but they can still be quite useful."


    The children listened intently, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. Even in the midst of danger, Ivan took the time to educate them, his tone more like a teacher giving a lesson than a warrior preparing for battle.


    ¡°Um, sir, what about your hand?¡± Cynthia asked, her voice small and trembling.


    Ivan glanced at the stump where his hand had once been. "Some artifacts, especially those of higher grades, come with a price. Typically, they exact a toll on your sanity, which can eventually lead to madness. This one is actually quite mild in that regard; it only costs you an arm with each use. I wouldn¡¯t recommend using it unless you possess powerful regenerative abilities. Fortunately, one of my own powers allows me to manipulate and create bones, and since I am made of bones..." Ivan trailed off as his missing arm began to regrow, the bones knitting together with an almost effortless speed until his skeletal hand was fully restored.


    Scorpion stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded. First, this man revealed himself as a lich, then he casually produced not just any grade 0 artifact, but the very first one ever in existence, Artifact 0-1, a relic whispered about in the darkest corners of the world. Most artifacts were numbered according to their discovery, but the first five were believed to predate the world itself, recorded in the Bookkeeper''s records. And now, Ivan, with complete disregard for the enemy standing right in front of him, was calmly explaining the intricacies of artifact use to a group of children.


    The anger that fueled Scorpion¡¯s charge was palpable, a fierce and desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of control over the battle. The blatant disregard Ivan had shown him, the nonchalant way he had addressed the children while wielding a weapon of unspeakable power, drove Scorpion to the edge of madness. His movements were a blur, his body fueled by pure adrenaline. As he surged forward, his hands morphed into massive pincers, razor-sharp and ready to crush his foe.


    But Ivan didn¡¯t even flinch. He didn¡¯t need to. Without turning to face Scorpion, the artifact in his hand responded to the threat with an almost sentient fury. The blood that had been absorbed into the bone handle surged forth like a living entity, moving with a speed and precision that defied comprehension. In an instant, the blood formed a blade, severing Scorpion''s right arm from his body with a clean, decisive cut. The momentum of his charge carried him forward a few steps before the pain registered, a searing, white-hot agony that tore through him, forcing a scream from his lips.


    Scorpion stumbled back, clutching the stump where his arm had been, blood pouring from the wound. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the severed limb twitch on the ground, still clutching the pincer that had been meant to end Ivan''s life. But the horror didn''t end there. The blood from Ivan¡¯s artifact descended upon the fallen arm like a predator, enveloping it in a crimson sheath. Before Scorpion could react, the blood began to bubble and hiss, the flesh and bone disintegrating into nothingness before his eyes, leaving only a dark stain on the ground where the arm had once been.


    Ivan finally turned his head, his skeletal face betraying no emotion as he observed the dismembered Scorpion. There was no satisfaction in his gaze, no gloating over the pain he had inflicted. To Ivan, this was simply the natural order of things, a reminder that those who defied him, who ignored his warnings, would pay the ultimate price.


    Scorpion¡¯s remaining arm trembled as he tried to steady himself, but the pain and the shock were too much. He stared at Ivan, eyes wide with disbelief and terror. The once arrogant, foul-mouthed intruder now stood broken and bleeding, his confidence shattered by the sheer power and precision of Ivan¡¯s attack.


    Ivan, his skeletal form casting a chilling shadow across the gymnasium, took a step closer to the defeated intruder. The coldness in his gaze was unrelenting, his voice like the death knell of a funeral bell. "Would you like to know the reason this facility has so few high-leveled members?" Ivan''s tone was calm, almost conversational, yet it dripped with an underlying menace that sent a shiver down Scorpion''s spine. "It¡¯s because there is no greater security than me."


    Scorpion¡¯s eyes widened further as the weight of Ivan¡¯s words sank in. The realization that he had underestimated this place, he underestimated him, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Every drop of arrogance, every ounce of bravado that had fueled his attack, was now nothing more than a distant memory, replaced by a gnawing dread that threatened to consume him whole.


    Ivan leaned in slightly, his skeletal face mere inches from Scorpion¡¯s paling complexion. "Now," he continued, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "how about our next lesson be in the manners you so desperately need to learn?"

 Chapter 23-Power and Madness

    Ivan walked closer to Scorpion with deliberate, unhurried steps, his skeletal form casting a long, eerie shadow across the blood-stained floor. The hollow darkness in Ivan''s eye sockets held no interest or pity, only the cold detachment of a predator toying with its prey. As he approached, the fear in Scorpion''s eyes deepened, morphing into sheer terror. The surrounding air seemed to thicken, suffocating any hope William Katz, the man behind the Scorpion mask, might have had left.


    Ivan finally stopped, mere inches from Scorpion''s trembling form. He tilted his head slightly, as if in thought, his gaze fixed on the broken man before him. ¡°You seem familiar now that I think about it,¡± Ivan mused, his voice as cold and distant as the grave. ¡°That pathetic scream of yours¡­ it reminds me of a student I once taught. What was your name again? It seems to have slipped my mind.¡±


    ¡°My name is¡­ William,¡± Scorpion stammered, his voice shaky, laced with desperation. ¡°William Katz. It''s true, I was one of your students.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, William Katz,¡± Ivan echoed, the name rolling off his non-existent tongue with a faint trace of disdain. ¡°You were easily one of my worst students, weak, lacking in discipline. Tell me, how did you manage to remove the bomb from your head? I''ve been wondering about that.¡±


    ¡°Nikolai¡­ Nikolai deactivated them all,¡± William spat out, his anger momentarily overcoming his fear. ¡°He helped us escape after you bastards turned us into monsters!¡±


    Ivan''s expression remained blank, unfeeling, as if William''s words were nothing more than the buzzing of an annoying fly. Without warning, Ivan plunged the artifact''s blade into William''s leg, causing him to cry out in agony. ¡°I believe I told you there would be no more profanity,¡± Ivan said coldly. ¡°You trash.¡±


    William crumpled to the ground, his remaining arm clutching his leg in pain. Blood oozed from the fresh wound, as he tried to crawl away, inching slowly toward the briefcase he had dropped earlier. Every movement was a struggle, his body was weakened by the relentless blood loss, but desperation fueled his determination. He reached the briefcase, his fingers trembling as he fumbled to open it. Inside, a small bottle of pills lay nestled among other supplies, each pill a vibrant, unnatural color.


    With trembling hands, William broke open the bottle, the glass shattering and spilling across the floor. Ignoring the shards that cut into his flesh, he scooped up the pills, along with fragments of glass, and shoved them all into his mouth. The sharp edges tore at his throat as he swallowed, but he didn''t care. He was beyond reason, beyond pain, driven only by the primal urge to survive, to escape the nightmare that Ivan had become.


    William¡¯s body convulsed violently, his screams echoing through the gymnasium as the grotesque transformation began. His skin, once human, turned a sickly gray and began to bubble as though boiling from within. The sight was horrifying, flesh rotting and reforming in twisted, unnatural ways. His previous injuries regenerated and healed. His eyes liquefied, melting away as his eye sockets fused shut, leaving his face a smooth, featureless mask where his eyes once were. His mouth, however, warped and stretched grotesquely, its size growing until it dominated his face. From within the gaping maw, a single, grotesque eyeball emerged, bloodshot and filled with malevolent fury.


    As the transformation continued, his body swelled, muscles bulging and expanding with terrifying force. His once-human frame became a hulking, monstrous form, each muscle fiber straining against his increasingly tight, ripped clothing. Massive black wings burst from his back with a sickening crunch, the feathers sharp and crystalline, glittering ominously like obsidian blades. They flexed and unfurled, casting a dark shadow over the gym, their edges gleaming with lethal potential.


    William''s scorpion tail, now even more menacing, grew longer and more flexible, its stinger elongating into a razor-sharp point that dripped with venom. The tail swayed menacingly, ready to strike with deadly precision. His right arm morphed into a hideous, segmented whip, bristling with jagged blades that resembled the legs of a monstrous centipede. The whip-like appendage snapped and curled, eager to tear through anything in its path. Meanwhile, his left arm thinned grotesquely, the skin stretching tight over elongated bones, ending in claw-like fingers with nails as sharp as daggers.


    His entire body was now a grotesque patchwork of unnatural growths and twisted mutations, with thick veins pulsating just beneath the surface, coursing with a sickly greenish-black fluid. His legs, transformed into powerful, cheetah-like limbs, were built for speed, and he crouched low, ready to pounce with ferocious velocity. The transformation complete, William stood as a nightmarish abomination, a twisted mockery of both man and beast.


    The surrounding air seemed to crackle with dark energy, the very essence of his being now radiating a palpable aura of malevolence. He was no longer William Katz, the former student, he was something far worse, a monster born of desperation and fueled by rage. And yet, through it all, Ivan remained unfazed, his hollow gaze fixed on the abomination before him, as if daring William to make his next move.


    ¡°How tragic,¡± Ivan murmured, his tone a mix of pity and disdain. ¡°You were so consumed by hatred for what we did to you, yet you¡¯ve become something far more monstrous just to try and defeat me. I wonder what those pills were¡­¡± His voice trailed off, but his hollow eyes never left the abomination that was once William.


    The monster charged at Ivan, its speed shocking for something so massive. Its clawed fingers, now grotesquely elongated, slashed through the air with deadly precision. Ivan moved like a wraith, effortlessly dodging the vicious swipes. The creature¡¯s nails carved deep gouges into the floor, but Ivan remained untouched, gliding out of reach with a fluidity that seemed almost supernatural.


    In a swift counterattack, Ivan summoned a pillar of bones from the ground, the sharp, ivory structure erupting with brutal force. It impaled the creature straight through its abdomen. But where a fatal wound should have left the monster writhing in pain, it merely grunted, its grotesque face twisting into a grin as the wound sealed itself almost immediately, the flesh knitting together with unnatural speed.


    Ivan¡¯s expression remained unchanged, though a hint of annoyance crept into his voice. ¡°Regeneration that potent¡­ how troublesome. It seems I¡¯ll have to completely erase you. The boss won¡¯t be pleased that there will be no body left for an autopsy.¡±


    The monster lunged at him again, its bloodshot eye glowing with unrestrained fury, but Ivan remained calm, his bony fingers twitching slightly in anticipation. His voice cut through the chaos with eerie composure. ¡°Children, take note of this moment,¡± he called out, never taking his eyes off the creature. ¡°The line between overwhelming power and overwhelming madness is perilously thin. Cross it, and you¡¯ll find yourself lost to the abyss, just as he has.¡±


    Ivan, unfazed by the monstrous transformation before him, calmly assessed the situation. His skeletal frame seemed almost delicate compared to the towering behemoth that was once William Katz. But Ivan had faced countless abominations in his time, and this one would be no different.


    With a flick of his wrist, Ivan conjured a series of bone spikes from the ground, each as sharp as a razor¡¯s edge. The spikes erupted from beneath William, aiming to impale him in multiple places. William, despite his monstrous form, moved with surprising agility, dodging most of the spikes while allowing a few to graze his thick hide. His wounds began to heal almost immediately, the flesh knitting itself back together with alarming speed.


    Undeterred, Ivan pressed the attack. He extended his arm, and the bone spikes shattered, transforming into a swarm of bone shards that whirled around him like a deadly vortex. The shards shot toward William, slicing through the air with lethal precision. William roared, his scorpion-like tail whipping around to deflect the shards, but some found their mark, embedding themselves in his skin.


    As William charged, Ivan summoned the souls of the damned. Ethereal figures appeared around him, their faces twisted in eternal agony. With a motion of his hand, Ivan directed the souls to converge on William. The souls screamed as they closed in, their wails piercing through the air with a frequency so high it shattered the glass in the room. William staggered, his one eye squinting in pain as the screams assaulted his senses. His ears, though altered, were not immune to the soul-shattering power of Ivan¡¯s necromancy. Blood began to trickle from his ears as the souls continued their barrage.


    Taking advantage of the momentary weakness, Ivan activated 0-1 Blood of the Dead God. The blood took the form of a whip, a weapon of pure destruction that pulsed with malevolent energy. Ivan lashed out with the whip, the blood slicing through the air like a blade. William barely managed to dodge the first strike, the whip¡¯s edge grazing his crystalline wings and disintegrating a portion of them on contact. The wings cracked and splintered, fragments of crystal falling to the ground.


    Ivan¡¯s strikes were relentless. Each crack of the whip sent William reeling, the blood tearing through his flesh with every blow. William fought back fiercely, his mutated arms and tail lashing out in a desperate attempt to land a hit on Ivan. But the lich was always one step ahead, his movements precise and calculated, weaving through William''s attacks with an ease that belied his skeletal form.


    Despite the damage William sustained, his regeneration was relentless. No matter how many wounds Ivan inflicted, they closed almost as quickly as they were made. Ivan¡¯s attacks, though devastating, seemed to be doing little more than stalling the inevitable. The fight dragged on, a brutal dance of bone, blood, and fury, with neither side willing to give an inch.


    But as the battle wore on, Ivan¡¯s patience began to wane. The constant regeneration was becoming an annoyance, a tedious obstacle in what should have been a swift execution. His hollow eyes narrowed as he watched yet another wound on William''s body stitch itself back together.


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± Ivan muttered, the irritation clear in his voice. He gripped the artifact tighter, ready to end this farce of a fight once and for all.


    Ivan stood in the center of the gymnasium, his skeletal form surrounded by the ominous crimson aura of the Blood of the Dead God. The artifact pulsed in his hand, its malevolent energy coiling around him like a living entity, eager to unleash its destructive power. With a flick of his wrist, Ivan commanded the blood to surge forth, creating a maelstrom that whipped around the room with terrifying speed.


    The bloodstorm spiraled outward, forming a crimson vortex that threatened to consume everything in its path. Yet, with a level of precision that only a master could achieve, Ivan directed the swirling blood away from the children, ensuring they remained unharmed. The beast that was once William, now a twisted amalgamation of fury and monstrous power, had no choice but to take to the air. His massive, crystalline wings flapped furiously as he ascended to the top of the gymnasium, clinging to the rafters like a predator watching its prey.


    From above, the beast¡¯s singular, grotesque eye began to glow with an unnatural light. A low, guttural growl emanated from deep within its chest, reverberating through the gymnasium. Suddenly, with a blinding flash, a petrifying blast shot from the eye, its energy so intense that it turned the very ground it touched into solid stone. The wave of energy streaked towards Ivan, intent on turning him into a statue.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    But Ivan was not so easily bested. With a swift motion, he extended the blood across the entire gymnasium, creating a barrier of crimson that stretched from wall to wall. The blood formed an impenetrable shield, absorbing the petrifying blast and stopping it in its tracks. The barrier pulsated, the blood within it reacting to the violent energy of the blast, but it held firm, protecting Ivan from the deadly attack.


    However, this act came with a price. As the blood barrier solidified, a sound began to echo through the gymnasium. It was not a sound of this world, but a haunting, otherworldly scream, a scream that emanated from the very essence of the artifact itself. The children, who had been watching the battle in stunned silence, began to hear it too. The scream was filled with despair and agony, a cacophony of tortured voices that clawed at their minds.


    The children clutched their heads, trying to block out the sound, but it was relentless, piercing through their very souls. The same scream that Ivan had grown accustomed to, the maddening wail of the countless damned souls bound to the artifact, now filled the gymnasium. The air grew thick with dread, the temperature dropping, as if the room itself was responding to the artifact¡¯s malevolent presence.


    The blood-soaked artifact''s screams filled the gymnasium with a haunting resonance, a chorus of agony that pierced the soul. Among the tortured cries, one voice stood out, a young boy''s voice, fragile and trembling, laced with unimaginable pain.


    ¡°Brother, why are you doing this? We¡¯re family¡­ It hurts so much!¡± The boy''s voice echoed, a desperate plea that reverberated through the room. His words trembled with fear, each syllable soaked in betrayal.


    A sharp cry of pain followed, raw and visceral, as if the very air was being torn apart by his suffering. ¡°Please, stop it! Stop it! Sister, brother, why are you just watching? Stop him, please!¡± The boy''s voice grew more frantic, more desperate, as if he could see his siblings standing by, while he endured the torment.


    The screams intensified, each one more harrowing than the last, as if the boy was being stabbed over and over again, his voice rising in pitch with each agonizing strike. ¡°Why? What did I ever do to deserve this? Did you really hate me so much¡­ that you wanted me to die?¡±


    The anguish in his voice was unbearable, a mixture of confusion, pain, and heartbreak that clawed at the minds of all who heard it. His voice cracked, faltering as if the strength to continue was slipping away, yet the suffering endured.


    ¡°F-Fate, please st¡ª¡± The voice cut off abruptly, leaving an eerie, suffocating silence in its wake. The pause was brief, but at that moment, the weight of the boy¡¯s despair hung heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket of sorrow that seemed to pull the room into darkness.


    But then, the screams started again, as if on a loop, the boy¡¯s torment replaying from the beginning. ¡°Brother, why are you doing this? We¡¯re family¡­ It hurts so much!¡± The cycle began anew, each repetition a fresh wound, dragging those who listened deeper into the abyss of the artifact''s cursed existence.


    The screams were not just heard, they were felt. They resonated deep within the bones, vibrating with a sickening intensity that made the heart race and the skin crawl. The children in the gymnasium trembled, some clutching their ears, others squeezing their eyes shut as if to block out the nightmare unfolding around them. But there was no escape. The artifact¡¯s screams were inescapable, a relentless assault on the senses, a reminder of the unbearable pain and madness that it harbored within.


    Ivan sighed, his expression one of mild irritation as he noticed the toll the artifact''s screams were taking on his students. The air was thick with the remnants of those tormented voices, and the children''s faces were pale, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. With a dismissive wave of his skeletal hand, Ivan deactivated the blood shield, the barrier dissolving as if it had never been. He turned his back to the beast above, seemingly indifferent to the danger it posed, exposing himself completely.


    William, now nothing more than a twisted monstrosity driven by primal instincts, saw his opportunity. His wings beat furiously as he descended at breakneck speed, his singular eye locked onto Ivan¡¯s unprotected form. His instincts screamed that this was his moment, the perfect chance to obliterate his former teacher once and for all. The surrounding air crackled with anticipation, every fiber of his mutated being poised for the kill.


    But Ivan remained calm, his bony fingers interlaced as he addressed the children. ¡°Now, students, I have one very crucial lesson for you all when it comes to combat,¡± he began, his voice steady, almost soothing in its cold detachment. ¡°Always assume you are weaker than your enemy. Never act overconfident, for that shall spell your demise.¡±


    As he spoke, blood began to seep from the artifact¡¯s handle, coiling around him like a living entity, forming a dense, pulsating barrier. The blood shimmered with otherworldly energy, the screams from before now a low, haunting hum that reverberated through the room.


    William, consumed by the thrill of the hunt, was oblivious to the danger. His speed was too great, his trajectory too fixed. By the time he realized the trap he was hurtling into, it was too late. His monstrous form slammed into the barrier with full force, the impact sending a shockwave through the gymnasium. For a fleeting moment, there was a blinding flash of crimson, and then¡­nothing.


    William''s body disintegrated on contact, his form unraveling into nothingness as the blood barrier consumed him utterly. There was no trace left, no remnants for his regenerative abilities to latch onto. He was simply gone, erased from existence as if he had never been.


    Ivan stood there, unmoved, his gaze still focused on the students as the last wisps of blood faded back into the artifact. ¡°And that, children,¡± he continued, as if nothing had happened, ¡°is why arrogance in battle leads to ruin. Always be prepared, and never underestimate your opponent. Lesson over¡±


    The lesson was clear, delivered with the brutal finality that only Ivan could impart. The children, still reeling from the spectacle, could only nod in stunned silence, the gravity of his words, and actions, etched into their minds forever.


    Ivan walked over as he noticed something on the ground, one of the many pills that William had with him, ¡°Neat it seems he missed consuming one, the boss should be grateful for me obtaining this,¡± Ivan said joyfully.


    ¡°Sir, when that man arrived here it sounded like he was looking for someone, could it have been Maxwell?¡± Noah questioned.


    ¡°That was my suspicion as well, alright kids we need to go looking for him, I can protect you all, but you''ll have to stick close to me, I don''t want any kind of sneak attacks to endanger you,¡± Ivan commanded.


    As Ivan and the students moved through the dimly lit hallways of the facility, the air was thick with the stench of death and decay. The floor was littered with the bodies of non-awakened agents, their lifeless forms a testament to the carnage that had unfolded. The walls, once pristine, were now stained with dark, smeared blood. Ivan led the way, his skeletal frame cutting a stark contrast to the surrounding gore. He ran into numerous intruders as they wandered the halls.


    The first intruder they encountered was a burly man with a crude, oversized axe. He swung it with reckless abandon, but Ivan barely flinched. With a flick of his wrist, a bone spear erupted from the ground, skewering the man mid-swing. His expression shifted from rage to shock as he crumpled to the floor, the weapon piercing his chest. ¡°Too slow,¡± Ivan remarked coldly, his voice echoing off the walls.


    The second opponent was a wiry woman with a penchant for fire. She unleashed a torrent of flames, her hands crackling with dangerous heat. Ivan responded by summoning a wall of blood from his artifact, creating a barrier that absorbed the flames effortlessly. As the woman hesitated, Ivan¡¯s bone weapons emerged, slicing through the air with precision. ¡°You cannot burn what is already dead,¡± he intoned, the weapons cleaving through her with surgical accuracy.


    Their next encounter was a man in sleek, high-tech armor, armed with a rapid-fire gun. He opened fire, but Ivan¡¯s bone shields deflected the bullets with ease. Ivan raised a hand, and the air around the man began to vibrate with a low, ominous hum. The screams from the souls of the damned influence pierced through the man¡¯s eardrums, rendering him incapacitated. As he fell to his knees, clutching his head, Ivan¡¯s bone blades came down, ending the threat swiftly. ¡°It seems you couldn''t augment your lack of skill,¡± Ivan said, stepping over the fallen foe.


    In the fourth skirmish, a woman wielding an electric whip charged at Ivan. Her whip crackled with energy, but Ivan¡¯s bone creations were already on the move. They lashed out, entangling the whip and pulling her off balance. Ivan approached calmly, his artifact¡¯s blood-forming a scythe-like weapon that cleaved through her defenses. ¡°How shocking, you were a disappointment,¡± he said sarcastically, as the woman fell, her body convulsing from the severed whip¡¯s final jolt.


    The fifth adversary was a hulking brute with incredible strength. He charged at Ivan with a feral roar, fists clenched. Ivan waited until the last possible moment before unleashing a wave of necrotic energy, the souls of the dead screaming as they caused the brute to stagger. With a swift movement, Ivan¡¯s bone claws raked across the brute¡¯s flesh, tearing him apart with ease. ¡°Strength without strategy is such a waste,¡± Ivan stated, his voice unwavering.


    Their sixth encounter was a cunning illusionist who tried to confuse Ivan with shifting mirages. However, Ivan¡¯s cold, calculating gaze saw through the illusions. He summoned a barrage of bone spikes from the floor, each one finding its mark despite the illusory chaos. The illusionist¡¯s true form was revealed, and Ivan''s artifact was carved through the remaining deceptions. ¡°These illusions only seemed to hide how truly powerless you were,¡± Ivan remarked.


    As they moved further through the facility, the students stayed close to Ivan, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. The corridors were littered with the remains of their foes, each battle leaving its mark on the grim landscape.


    Just as they rounded the corner, Ivan''s eyes narrowed with a mix of grim satisfaction and caution. The hallway ahead was a grotesque tableau of carnage. Corpses were strewn about haphazardly, a chaotic mosaic of both A.E.G.I.S and Noir members, their bodies torn apart with brutal efficiency. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of death.


    At the center of this macabre scene, a large pile of mangled bodies formed a gruesome throne. Seated atop it was a woman who cut a striking figure amidst the carnage. She wore a nurse¡¯s uniform, green scrubs stained dark with blood, and blue nitrile gloves that were slick with gore. A stethoscope hung around her neck, contrasting sharply with the grim tableau. Her face was obscured by a medical mask smeared with blood, and her short brown hair was tied into a practical bun. Brown eyes peered through circular glasses, their intensity only heightened by the disdainful expression she wore.


    Ivan halted, his gaze fixed on the woman with an air of detached curiosity. ¡°So, this is where the pile of corpses led us,¡± he remarked, his voice carrying an undercurrent of cold amusement.


    The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed as she met Ivan¡¯s gaze, her annoyance evident. ¡°What a horrible day this has turned out to be,¡± she began, her voice laced with frustration. ¡°I infiltrated this facility months ago, planning to gather data and leave quietly. But then everything went to hell. First, I was discovered by A.E.G.I.S. agents who realized I wasn¡¯t one of them. Then Noir''s people attacked me because they thought I was a threat. And now, of all the people I could run into, it¡¯s the Lich himself. I knew that was your codename, but who would have guessed you were an actual lich?¡±


    Ivan¡¯s expression hardened as he assessed her, his gaze growing more serious. ¡°This one is dangerous, far more than William ever was,¡± he said, his voice carrying a commanding edge. ¡°Children, step back. This individual is not to be trifled with.¡±


    The students quickly moved behind Ivan, their eyes wide with apprehension. The woman, seemingly unperturbed by the presence of the children, continued to regard Ivan with a mix of irritation and calculated observation.


    ¡°You know,¡± she said, adjusting her glasses with a bloody gloved hand, ¡°I was hoping to avoid direct confrontation. But given the circumstances, it seems I don¡¯t have a choice.


    Ivan''s gaze remained steady, his bony fingers flexing as he prepared himself for the inevitable clash. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, his tone cold and resolute.


    The hallway seemed to contract with the tension between them, the echoes of past battles whispering through the walls. The air crackled with anticipation as the confrontation loomed, each combatant bracing for the fight that would determine the next turn in this deadly chess game.

 Chapter 24-Ouroboros

    The woman perched atop the pile of corpses, her green scrubs stained with blood, gave off an aura of controlled tension. Her hands, clad in blue nitrile gloves, clenched tightly around the stethoscope draped around her neck, a twisted symbol of her duality as both healer and killer. The stench of death hung heavily in the air, mingling with the coldness that seemed to radiate from Ivan, who stood calmly below her, his hollow eyes fixed on her.


    ¡°Listen,¡± she began, her voice measured but with an edge of desperation, ¡°how about you just let me go? Noir is the real threat here. I didn¡¯t want to kill anyone, it was just self-defense. Besides,¡± she continued, trying to inject a hint of reason into her plea, ¡°I took down some of your enemies too. So it balances out, right?¡±


    Ivan''s skeletal face remained inscrutable, not indicating his thoughts. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, as the woman tried to read any sign of mercy¡ªor wrath¡ªin the empty eye sockets that stared back at her. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, each thud echoing in her ears like a countdown.


    She knew that the man, or rather, the creature, standing before her was not one to be swayed by words alone. Still, retreat wasn¡¯t an option, and surrender felt like a death sentence. She kept her gaze steady, her mind racing for any potential escape route, while her body remained coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. At this moment, between life and death, she knew she would have to fight not just with skill, but with every ounce of wit and cunning she possessed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you go if you can answer one simple question,¡± Ivan said, his voice eerily calm, as if the answer didn¡¯t matter to him one way or the other.


    The woman, perched uneasily on the pile of corpses, felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was her way out. ¡°Of course, what¡¯s the question?¡± she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.


    ¡°How many people have you killed in total?¡± Ivan''s tone was cold, and detached, like he was asking about the weather. But the weight of the question hung heavy in the air.


    She stared at him, momentarily stunned. How many people had she killed? The thought had never really crossed her mind. She sat on a mound of bodies, just a fraction of her total, yet the number was meaningless to her, a tally she¡¯d stopped keeping long ago.


    ¡°As I thought,¡± Ivan said, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. ¡°You¡¯re a monster who can¡¯t be redeemed.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, anger flaring up in the pit of her stomach. ¡°You¡¯re no better! Tell me, how many people have you killed, you bastard?¡± she shot back, her voice rising with the heat of her fury.


    Ivan''s skeletal face contorted into a grotesque grin, the hollow sockets where his eyes should have been somehow managing to convey a twisted sense of pleasure. The smile was a chilling mockery of humanity, and it sent a shiver of dread through the woman, deeper than any wound ever could. ¡°I don¡¯t remember either,¡± he confessed, his voice dripping with a sinister glee that echoed through the lifeless hallway. ¡°I¡¯m just as much a monster as you. But unlike you, I embrace it.¡±


    He took a step closer, his presence suffocating, like a shadow that consumed all light. ¡°You,¡± he continued, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, ¡°will simply be another forgotten corpse on the pile. I might have spared you, dragged you back for interrogation, where you could have had the chance to beg for your life. But after hearing that filthy mouth of yours, I¡¯ve decided you¡¯re not worth the effort. I¡¯ll kill you here and now.¡±


    His grin widened, the bony jaws opening as if to swallow her whole. ¡°So, before I do, tell me your name and codename. If you¡¯re as dangerous as you claim, I might even get a promotion for erasing you from existence.¡±


    The woman, her heart pounding in her chest, fought to keep her composure. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she knew there was no escape. She met his gaze, her defiance the only shield she had left. ¡°The name is Lisa Anderson, and the codename is The Plague,¡± she spat, the venom in her voice masking the fear that threatened to consume her. ¡°Commit it to memory, you bony bastard.¡±


    Lisa began to transform almost subtly, almost gracefully. Her skin, previously pale from the stress of the encounter, began to regain a healthy, almost radiant glow. The contours of her face sharpened, taking on a more defined and striking appearance. Her brown eyes, once hidden behind glasses, gleamed with an unnatural clarity, as if she could see every particle in the air.


    Her once-short hair untangled itself from the bun, cascading down her back in smooth, flowing waves, each strand shimmering with a dark, silken sheen. The green scrubs she wore tightened and reformed to accentuate her now-enhanced physique, the material shifting to something more resilient, almost armor-like, yet still flexible enough to allow for fluid movement.


    Her hands, still covered by blue nitrile gloves, elongated slightly, the fingers becoming more elegant and precise, perfect for a surgeon, or a killer. The stethoscope around her neck glowed faintly, as if resonating with the energy coursing through her body. Her posture straightened, exuding confidence and poise that hadn¡¯t been there before, a reflection of the immense power she now wielded with even greater control.


    As the transformation was completed, there was nothing monstrous or grotesque about her appearance, if anything, she looked more human, more perfect, as if she had unlocked the peak of what her body could achieve. Yet, beneath this veneer of beauty and calm, there was an unmistakable aura of danger, a silent warning that this was no ordinary enhancement.


    Lisa¡¯s excitement was palpable as she revealed her Authority. ¡°Normally, I don''t use this transformation, but against the famed Lich, I''ll have to bring out all the stops. Let us trade ability names, Lich. I possess the Authority of Diseases,¡± she announced, her voice filled with a mix of anticipation and challenge.


    Ivan¡¯s skeletal grin widened, a sinister light flickering in his hollow eyes. ¡°Necromancy and bone creation,¡± he responded with a casual air, as if discussing the weather. ¡°If I recall, you''re a member of Ouroboros, the assassin organization. I don¡¯t have most of your bounties committed to memory, besides your leader and the top two, but an Authority-user should still fetch a pretty penny.¡± He chuckled, the sound echoing through the desolate hallway, sending chills down the spine of any who might have overheard.


    Before he could continue, Lisa¡¯s arm shot forward, elongating with an unnatural fluidity, her limb appearing to be composed of a viscous purple substance that bubbled ominously. The moment it made contact with Ivan¡¯s bone shield, the effect was immediate. The bones, once solid and impenetrable, began to deteriorate, becoming brittle and cracking under the corrosive touch of her disease-infused limb.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Ivan mused, stepping back as he watched the bones crumble to dust. ¡°But brittle bones are hardly a concern for a necromancer.¡± He waved his hand, and the remains of the fallen A.E.G.I.S. agents around them began to stir, their bones snapping into place as they reanimated under his control. The hallway filled with the sound of cracking bones and the low, guttural groans of the newly awakened dead. They moved forward, their skeletal forms a mix of human and animalistic constructs, each one a grotesque mockery of life.


    Lisa¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement as she flicked her other arm, releasing a spray of disease-laden droplets into the air. Each drop contained a different pathogen, designed to target various biological functions. The reanimated corpses shuddered as the diseases took hold, their bodies contorting and twitching as they were torn apart from within.


    But Ivan was undeterred. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a barrage of bone spears from the ground, aiming directly at Lisa. She moved with incredible agility, her enhanced reflexes allowing her to dodge and weave through the onslaught. Her body twisted and bent in ways that defied human anatomy, her form more fluid than solid as she countered each attack with a combination of her stretching limbs and bursts of disease.


    One of the bone spears grazed her side, but instead of bleeding, the wound simply sealed itself, the disease within her body rapidly regenerating the damaged tissue. ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that, Lich!¡± she taunted, her voice carrying a hint of mockery.


    Ivan narrowed his eyes, his patience beginning to wear thin. ¡°I knew you were powerful, but this is truly something,¡± he muttered, raising his hand to summon a more potent force. The air grew heavy with the sound of distant, echoing screams, the voices of the souls he had captured and twisted for his own use. With a command, he unleashed their torment upon Lisa, the cacophony of screams bombarding her mind, each one laced with the agony and suffering from the countless souls.


    Lisa staggered, clutching her head as the screams threatened to overwhelm her. But she was not so easily defeated. With a surge of determination, she pushed back against the mental assault, her Authority flaring as she released a concentrated burst of disease that coated the hallway, the walls, the floor, and even the air itself. Ivan created a wall of bones to protect the children from the blast, as he defended himself with his artifact. The once pristine environment became a festering breeding ground for her pathogens, each one designed to attack Ivan¡¯s creations at a cellular level.


    The reanimated corpses began to dissolve, their bones disintegrating under the relentless assault of her diseases. But Ivan merely smiled, his skeletal grin widening as he watched the destruction. ¡°You¡¯re strong, Lisa,¡± he admitted, ¡°but strength alone won¡¯t save you.¡± He raised his hand, and the blood from his artifact began to seep into the ground, forming tendrils that snaked their way toward her, each one carrying the power to obliterate anything they touched.


    Lisa leaped back, her body twisting midair as she avoided the deadly tendrils. But even as she dodged, Ivan could see the weariness beginning to set in. Her once fluid movements were becoming slightly slower, her breath coming in short gasps as she struggled to maintain control over the battlefield.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Lisa¡¯s eyes glinted with a dangerous resolve as she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small, worn talisman. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this because of the side effects, but I guess I¡¯ll have to use my artifacts,¡± she muttered, more to herself than to Ivan. The talisman was old, frayed at the edges, and etched with ancient symbols. Without hesitation, she placed it on her forehead, and the surrounding air seemed to ripple.


    As the talisman made contact with her skin, a memory flashed through Ivan¡¯s mind¡ªa report about an artifact that had gone missing from A.E.G.I.S. storage. Artifact 1-99, the Fox Deity¡¯s Talisman. It granted the user pyrokinetic abilities and the power to create illusions. The artifact was rumored to have been taken from a member of the Church of the Infinite Gates, a cult with roots in Japan. But like many powerful artifacts, it came with a price¡ªthe more the user relied on its abilities, the more they were drawn into their deepest desires, whatever they might be.


    A flicker of unease passed over Ivan¡¯s skeletal features. He knew what the talisman could do, and he wasn¡¯t eager to see it in action.


    The transformation was immediate. Flames erupted around Lisa, dancing along her body without burning her, and her eyes took on a fiery glow. The air shimmered with heat as she lifted her hands, and the flames obeyed her command, swirling around her in a vortex of searing heat.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one with a few tricks up your sleeve, Lich,¡± she said, her voice laced with both confidence and the slightest hint of something darker, a trace of the talisman¡¯s influence already taking hold.


    Ivan barely had time to react before she unleashed a torrent of fire in his direction. He quickly summoned a wall of bones to shield himself, but the flames were relentless, licking at the edges of the barrier and threatening to consume it entirely. The heat was intense, and Ivan could feel the bones starting to weaken under the assault.


    But the flames were just the beginning. As the fire roared around them, the hallway began to shift. The walls twisted and distorted, and the floor seemed to drop away into an endless abyss. Lisa had activated the talisman¡¯s illusionary powers, turning the very environment into a weapon against Ivan.


    He gritted his teeth, focusing on maintaining his composure as the world around him warped. He knew it was just an illusion, but that didn¡¯t make it any less dangerous. One wrong move, and he could be sent plummeting into an imaginary void, or worse, lose track of Lisa altogether.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, you¡¯re more resourceful than most,¡± Ivan called out, his voice echoing in the distorted space. ¡°But artifacts have their limits, and you¡¯ve only made yourself more vulnerable.¡±


    Lisa smirked, her form flickering as she moved through the illusionary landscape. ¡°You talk too much, Lich. Let¡¯s see if your bones can withstand a direct hit.¡±


    She gathered the flames into a concentrated ball of fire in her hand, the heat so intense that the very air around it seemed to ignite. With a swift motion, she hurled the fireball at Ivan, the force behind it enough to shatter his bone shield upon impact.


    The explosion was deafening. The bone barrier crumbled, and Ivan was thrown back, the flames scorching his robes and cracking the bones that comprised his skeletal frame. Pain, a sensation he rarely felt, coursed through him as he struggled to regain his footing.


    But Lisa wasn¡¯t done. Seeing an opportunity, she shifted her focus from Ivan to the students he was protecting. A cruel smile spread across her face as she prepared to unleash her fire upon them.


    ¡°They¡¯re just a distraction, right?¡± she taunted. ¡°Let¡¯s see how much they really mean to you, Lich.¡± She extended her hand, flames gathering at her fingertips, ready to strike.


    Ivan¡¯s eyes widened in realization as he saw her intentions. Despite the pain, he pushed himself forward, summoning every ounce of his strength to intercept her attack. But just as he moved, Lisa landed another blow, this time, a sharp, piercing strike aimed directly at his core. The force of it drove him to his knees, and for a moment, he faltered.


    Lisa¡¯s laughter echoed through the burning hallway, her triumph seemingly within reach. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re not as invincible as you thought,¡± she sneered, her hand still outstretched, ready to unleash destruction on the students.


    But Ivan, even weakened and battered, was far from defeated.


    ¡°Would you like to understand why grade 0 artifacts are categorized so uniquely?¡± Ivan''s voice was icy and commanding. ¡°Their power might appear comparable to grade 1 artifacts, yet they bear a far more sinister distinction. The answer is simple: all grade 0 artifacts are sealed in a dormant state. Now, you shall witness the true origin of this world, fully unleashed.¡±


    His gaze darkened with an intense gravity as he continued, ¡°Oh, Blood of the Dead God, your death was an unjust cruelty, betrayed by those you held dear. It is time to exact a vengeance as cruel and unjust as your own demise. It is time to drag my enemies into the very depths of hell. Artifact release!¡±


    Ivan''s voice crescendoed into a fierce yell, the final command ringing through the corridor.


    The blood that had previously pooled around Ivan began to absorb itself into the handle of the artifact. It pulsed rhythmically, glowing with an ominous light. The handle cracked and shattered under the pressure of the gathering power. The blood erupted, cascading around Ivan like a living entity. It wrapped around him, enveloping him in a pulsating, dark cocoon.


    As the blood encased him, Ivan''s body underwent a dramatic transformation. His form shrank, his height diminishing until he appeared as a child. His face, once skeletal and terrifying, now resembled that of a young boy. His eyes burned a bright, unnerving orange, and his long, flowing hair turned an ethereal white. Orange moths, their wings glistening with otherworldly energy, emerged from the blood, covering his body and crawling over him with an eerie grace.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since that Lich lent me his body,¡± the transformed Ivan said, his voice now unnervingly childish, yet laced with an intimidating power. ¡°I suppose he must really want you dead.¡±


    Lisa¡¯s eyes widened in horror as the transformation unfolded. The childlike voice and innocent appearance contrasted starkly with the palpable menace emanating from the figure before her. Fear gripped her, but she tried to mask it with defiance.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let some stupid kid defeat me,¡± Lisa growled, her arm extending toward Ivan with the intention of crushing him.


    But as her arm lunged forward, the blood surrounding her reacted violently. It exploded in a burst of crimson, sending shockwaves through the room. The sheer force of the explosion ripped through her extended arm, causing Lisa to stumble backward in shock and pain.


    Her face contorted in fear as she witnessed the blood''s power unraveling before her. The explosion left her disoriented and vulnerable, her confidence shattered by the raw, unbridled force of the artifact¡¯s release.


    Ivan, now fully transformed, stood amidst the chaos with an unsettling calm. His childlike appearance belied the terror he was capable of unleashing, and his gaze, though youthful, was filled with an ancient and relentless fury.


    ¡°Please, call me Atlas,¡± the transformed Ivan said with a chilling giggle. ¡°In the next five minutes, with this body, we¡¯re going to become very well-acquainted.¡±


    As Atlas spoke, the room was filled with an ominous, almost playful air. His childlike voice and eerie smile contrasted starkly with the brutality of his power. Lisa braced herself, knowing that the next few minutes would be a relentless test of her endurance and skill.


    For the next four minutes, the battle unfolded like a scene from a nightmarish dance. Lisa¡¯s attempts to strike Atlas were met with sheer, unrelenting agony. Every time she tried to land a blow, her limbs would explode in a gruesome display of blood and pain. The blood that had enveloped her body, now boiling and seething with a malevolent energy, erupted with violent force, tearing through her with an unyielding rage.


    Atlas watched with a detached amusement, his eyes gleaming with a sinister delight. ¡°Come on, keep trying to attack,¡± he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. ¡°I¡¯m going to get bored if you don¡¯t put up more of a fight, dummy.¡±


    Lisa gritted her teeth against the searing pain. Each movement sent waves of boiling blood through her veins, causing her to scream out in agony. Her attacks, though swift and precise, were met with explosive retaliation from Atlas. The blood that had previously shielded her now acted as a cruel instrument of torture, amplifying her suffering with every attempt to strike back.


    Atlas moved with an eerie grace, dodging Lisa¡¯s attacks with a childlike ease. His small form darted around with unsettling agility, his laughter echoing through the room as he danced away from her furious, yet futile, strikes. The contrast between his innocent appearance and the destructive power at his command only heightened the horror of the scene.


    Lisa¡¯s once confident demeanor was now replaced with desperation and pain. Her limbs, constantly subjected to the torturous effects of the blood, struggled to keep up with the relentless pace of the battle. Despite her immense control over diseases and her formidable skills, she found herself at a disadvantage against Atlas¡¯s overpowering abilities.


    Every strike she attempted seemed to be countered with an equally devastating response. The boiling blood in her veins only added to her torment, making her movements increasingly erratic and her attacks less effective.


    With each passing moment, Lisa¡¯s strength waned, and her resolve was tested to its limits. The relentless assault, combined with the searing pain, pushed her to the brink of collapse. Atlas continued to taunt her, his giggles and jeers only adding to the psychological torment.


    ¡°Keep it up,¡± Atlas said with a smirk, his voice echoing with a chilling amusement. ¡°You¡¯re making this so much more fun.¡±


    Lisa¡¯s eyes were wild with desperation as she struggled against the agony of her boiling blood. ¡°I have to escape,¡± she screamed through gritted teeth. ¡°I need to escape!¡± She fumbled with her remaining talisman, her fingers trembling as she pulled it out.


    Atlas watched with a bemused expression, his small frame hovering effortlessly in the air. ¡°So you¡¯re choosing to give up and run,¡± he said, his tone dripping with mockery. ¡°Very well, goodbye plaything.¡±


    With a snap of his fingers, Atlas unleashed a wave of dark energy. Lisa¡¯s head exploded in a gruesome burst of blood and gore, splattering the surrounding walls. The carnage was swift and brutal, but amidst the chaos, Lisa¡¯s talisman activated. A shimmering light enveloped her decapitated corpse, and with a sudden flash, she was teleported away.


    Atlas¡¯s laughter echoed through the room as he watched the scene unfold. ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± he said with a casual cheeriness. ¡°I do hope she wasn¡¯t from that snake organization. If she was, ¡®he¡¯ might get mad. But eh, whatever. I¡¯m sure it will be fine.¡±


    The room began to settle, and as Atlas¡¯s form wavered, he transformed back into Ivan. The blood that had once enveloped his body receded and coalesced, disappearing into the artifact¡¯s handle as it returned to its sealed state. Ivan¡¯s skeletal face bore a satisfied grin as he surveyed the aftermath of the battle.


    He took a deep breath, the chilling calm of his presence returning as he assessed the surrounding carnage. ¡°Another day, another monster dealt with,¡± Ivan mused, his voice carrying a hint of dark satisfaction. The blood and chaos of the battle faded, leaving behind the quiet aftermath of his ruthless efficiency.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the mess, children,¡± Ivan chuckled, his voice carrying a dark amusement. ¡°But it seems we¡¯d be better off finding another route.

 Chapter 25-Tainted Swan

    The classroom was filled with a quiet hum of activity as the students settled into their routines. Alice, her eyes darting over the pages of a well-worn book, was lost in a familiar story¡ªa tale of an orphan discovering his destiny as the chosen one. Predictable as it was, she found comfort in its pages, a small smile playing on her lips. Across the room, Jacob was engrossed in his own world, making a small robot action figure float mid-air with a flick of his fingers, the toy¡¯s mechanical limbs jerking in a mock battle.


    Theo and Celia, the inseparable siblings, whispered to each other about their plans to watch a new movie later that evening, their excitement barely contained. Meanwhile, Zachary had succumbed to the warmth of the room, his head resting on his desk, soft snores escaping his lips.


    At the front of the class, Mrs. Stone sat at her desk, her expression a mix of annoyance and concern as she glanced at the empty seat that should have been occupied by Charles. She tapped her pen against the desk, her thoughts betraying her frustration.


    ¡°That boy,¡± she muttered to herself, ¡°he was doing so well, and now he¡¯s barely here. Always skipping class¡­ but I suppose I can¡¯t fault him for visiting Iris.¡± With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention back to the class, trying to push aside her worries for the absent student.


    Before Mrs. Stone could start her lesson, the facility''s alarm blared, echoing through the halls. ¡°All students, hide within your dorms. If you are out in the open, proceed to the nearest designated bunker. All agents, intruders have broken in. Assist any students in getting to safety and eliminate any and all attackers you see.¡±


    The class froze for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in. Mrs. Stone, her face set in determination, immediately sprang into action. With a fluid motion, she activated her ability, summoning water that swiftly covered the doors. The liquid shimmered briefly as Mrs. Stone threw a small crystal from her pocket, it as it transformed into solid ice, forming an impenetrable barrier. She then reached under her desk, throwing a small object that triggered a hidden mechanism. The podium slid aside, revealing a concealed trapdoor beneath it.


    ¡°Each classroom is equipped with a hidden bunker,¡± Mrs. Stone explained, her voice calm but firm. ¡°It¡¯s linked to a network of secret corridors throughout the facility. I¡¯ll stay here and defend the entrance. Now, hurry!¡±


    The urgency in her tone spurred the students into motion. Alice clutched her book tightly as she followed the others. Theo and Celia exchanged a worried glance, but quickly moved toward the trapdoor. Jacob, however, paused, looking back at Zachary, who was still slumped over his desk, blissfully unaware of the surrounding chaos. Without a word, Jacob ran over and shook him awake, refusing to leave a classmate behind.


    The bunker was a small, reinforced room designed for maximum protection. The walls were lined with cold, gray metal, and the air was thick with the scent of concrete and steel. A few dim lights flickered on as the students entered, casting eerie shadows across their faces. The space was cramped but functional, equipped with basic supplies and a terminal for communication with the rest of the facility. The passageways leading to other parts of the building were narrow and dark, like veins running through the facility''s body.


    Moments later, the classroom wall exploded inward with a deafening crash, sending shards of ice and debris flying across the room. The violent impact reverberated through the walls, shaking the floor beneath the students'' feet. Dust and smoke billowed from the gaping hole, obscuring the intruders for a brief moment before they stepped through the wreckage, their silhouettes emerging from the haze-like specters. The air was thick with tension as the two individuals, radiating a menacing aura, surveyed the room with cold, calculating eyes, their presence signaling the start of a battle that would soon engulf the classroom.


    The first was an imposing figure, towering over the others with his massive frame encased in a suit of battered metal armor. The armor, though weathered and scarred from countless battles, still held a menacing gleam. His helmet, cracked across the visor in a way that resembled a vicious grin, hid his face completely, adding to his fearsome aura. Over his armor, he wore a pair of sweatpants and a black hoodie, an odd juxtaposition that only made him seem more unhinged. A large sword hung at his side, its hilt worn from use, and every movement he made seemed to resonate with barely restrained violence.


    The second, was a young woman whose appearance, belied the fury that simmered beneath the surface. Her short, curly pink hair framed a face that was both youthful and intense. She wore circle-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose, reflecting the light in a way that concealed her eyes. Dressed in a white hoodie over a maroon shirt and sweatpants, her outfit was unassuming, but the aura she exuded was anything but. Her green sneakers were scuffed from wear, and slung over her shoulder was a lime green messenger bag shaped like a grinning monster. Clutched tightly in her hand was an ancient-looking book, its pages yellowed with age and covered in strange, unreadable symbols that seemed to pulse with dark energy.


    The tension in the room thickened as the dust settled, revealing the two intruders. Scholar stood tall, his presence cold and calculated, his eyes devoid of any warmth as they locked onto Mia.


    ¡°It''s been a while, hasn''t it, Mia?¡± Scholar''s voice was as cold as the ice now scattered across the floor, a hint of old wounds lacing his tone.


    ¡°Not long enough,¡± Mia replied, her gaze unwavering as she stared at the two she knew all too well. Memories of past encounters flickered in her mind.


    Knight, the second intruder, stepped forward. His voice dripped with malice, a venomous promise of what was to come. ¡°It''s time for you to die. I''ll make sure it''s very painful.¡±


    Mia narrowed her eyes at him, unafraid. ¡°Take off that stupid helmet. Are you too afraid to show me your face?¡±


    Knight¡¯s hand moved to his helmet, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he removed it. His skin was horrifically scarred, as if boiling water had been poured over it, leaving twisted, discolored flesh in its wake. The grotesque appearance only seemed to fuel the hatred in his eyes, a hatred directed solely at Mia.


    ¡°Happy now?¡± Knight sneered, his disfigured face a mask of rage and bitterness. ¡°This is what you did to me. And now, I''m going to return the favor.¡±


    Mia¡¯s words cut deeper than any blade, her voice dripping with a disdain that only fueled Knight¡¯s fury. ¡°Still as ugly as I remember,¡± she taunted, her tone sharp and unforgiving. ¡°I should have just killed you both that day. You¡¯re lucky all I did was burn your already hideous face.¡±


    Knight''s face twisted into a snarl, his scarred features contorting with rage. Without a word, he lunged at Mia, his movements driven by blind fury. He reached for the massive sword at his waist, its handle seemingly too small for what emerged. As he unsheathed it, the blade expanded, growing in size until it towered over him. It was an amalgamation of hundreds of smaller swords, each one shifting and grinding against the others, forming a jagged, deadly weapon that crackled with metallic energy.


    With a roar, Knight swung the colossal blade, aiming to cleave Mia in two. But she was ready. With a swift motion, she summoned a barrier of water, the liquid surging up and solidifying into a shimmering wall. The sword collided with the barrier, sending shockwaves through the room, but the water held firm, absorbing the impact with a fluid grace.


    Mia''s eyes blazed with confidence as she stared down her attackers. "Please, fight me two on one, you third-rate amateurs," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "We were in the same class, and think back¡ªdid you ever win by yourselves, even once?"


    As she spoke, the water around her began to churn violently, forming a vortex that encircled her like a living entity. The swirling water slashed at everything within its reach, razor-sharp tendrils whipping out to strike at Knight and Scholar. The air crackled with energy as the vortex intensified, each slash of water cutting through the debris and ice scattered across the room.


    Knight gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his sword as he prepared for another attack. But before he could move, Scholar stepped forward, her presence calm and controlled despite the chaos around them. She held in her hand a tattered book, its pages yellowed with age. The artifact, 1-103, the Book of Unlovable Blessings, emitted a dark aura that seemed to pulse with every breath she took.


    "You think you¡¯re so superior, Mia," Scholar said, her voice cold and calculating. "But let¡¯s see how you fare when your own strength betrays you."


    As she spoke, Scholar opened the book, its pages glowing with an eerie light. The air around Mia seemed to thicken, her movements becoming slower, more labored. A creeping weakness spread through her limbs, a sensation of heavy lethargy seeping into her muscles. The vortex of water faltered, the once sharp and deadly tendrils now sluggish and dull.


    Mia¡¯s eyes narrowed as she realized what was happening. Scholar¡¯s ability, amplified by the book, was sapping her strength, dulling her reflexes, and making every movement a struggle. But Mia wasn¡¯t one to back down easily.


    With a determined glare, she pushed through the oppressive force, the surrounding water responding to her will. She sent a wave crashing towards Knight, forcing him to step back as the water pounded against his armor, trying to find a way inside. He responded by manipulating the metal of his armor, reshaping it to seal off any potential openings, his sword reforming into a shield to deflect the incoming attacks.


    Mia¡¯s frustration grew as she fought against the dual onslaught. The room filled with the sounds of clashing water and metal, punctuated by the occasional burst of energy from Scholar¡¯s artifact. Despite the odds, Mia refused to give in, summoning every ounce of her strength to keep the water moving, to keep herself from succumbing to the debilitating effects of Scholar¡¯s curse.


    But Knight wasn¡¯t about to let up. Seizing an opening, he reformed his weapon once more, the sword splitting into countless smaller blades that flew toward Mia like a swarm of deadly insects. At the same time, Scholar¡¯s curse intensified, the air growing heavier, the weight of Mia¡¯s own abilities pressing down on her like a lead blanket.


    Mia¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled against the overwhelming odds. Knight¡¯s relentless assault and Scholar¡¯s debilitating curse were pushing her to the brink. The once-fluid water vortex now sputtered weakly, its tendrils barely able to hold off the onslaught of metal shards and energy pulses.


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    ¡°You¡¯re slipping, Mia,¡± Knight taunted, his voice laced with sadistic glee. He reformed his sword, its jagged edges gleaming menacingly as he prepared for another strike. ¡°What happened to all that bravado? You¡¯re nothing without your precious water.¡±


    Scholar¡¯s cold eyes remained fixed on Mia as she continued to read from the Book of Unlovable Blessings, her voice a steady drone that intensified the curse sapping Mia¡¯s strength. ¡°You should have known better than to face us alone,¡± Scholar said, her tone devoid of emotion. ¡°We always did work best together.¡±


    Mia gritted her teeth, forcing her limbs to move despite the crushing weight of the curse. She needed to find a way out, a way to turn the tide, but every second that passed only made her feel weaker, more desperate. The surrounding water began to falter, its once-vibrant energy reduced to sluggish waves.


    ¡°You¡¯re done, Mia,¡± Knight growled, swinging his sword in a wide arc. The blade, now a massive crescent of metal, hurtled towards her with terrifying speed.


    But just as it seemed the end was inevitable, something within Mia shifted. A surge of warmth spread through her body, a sudden, inexplicable rush of energy that she hadn¡¯t felt before. The curse¡¯s grip on her weakened, the oppressive weight lifting just enough for her to regain some control.


    ¡°What¡ª?¡± Scholar¡¯s voice faltered, her eyes widening in surprise as she sensed the change. The Book of Unlovable Blessings pulsed in her hands, and she realized too late what had happened.


    The artifact¡¯s side effect had triggered, bestowing upon Mia a blessing of its own, a sudden reversal of fortune in the heat of battle.


    Mia¡¯s eyes snapped open, a newfound fire burning within them. The surrounding water surged back to life, the vortex reforming with renewed vigor. The once-weak tendrils now lashed out with fierce precision, striking at Knight¡¯s sword and sending it careening off course.


    Knight staggered back, caught off guard by the sudden resurgence of her power. ¡°What the hell?¡± he spat, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°How are you still standing?¡±


    ¡°You thought you had me,¡± Mia snarled, her voice steadying as the blessing coursed through her. ¡°I wouldn''t place my trust in an artifact with such a horrible side effect.¡±


    She thrust her hands forward, and the water responded with a ferocity that hadn¡¯t been there before. The vortex expanded, enveloping the entire room in a swirling maelstrom. Knight was forced to retreat, his armor groaning under the pressure as the water pushed against it, searching for any weakness to exploit.


    Scholar tried to double down on her curse, her voice rising in pitch as she desperately chanted from the book. But the curse was no longer having the desired effect. The blessing had turned the tide, and Mia could feel the power coursing through her veins, washing away the fatigue and fear that had gripped her moments before.


    With a swift motion, Mia directed a concentrated stream of water at Scholar, aiming for the book in her hands. Scholar barely had time to react, raising her arm to deflect the attack, but the force of the water knocked her back, sending the book tumbling from her grasp.


    ¡°No!¡± Scholar cried out, scrambling to retrieve the artifact, but Mia was relentless. She sent another wave crashing towards Scholar, pinning her against the wall with a solid column of water.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who knows how to fight dirty,¡± Mia hissed, tightening her control over the water. ¡°I¡¯ve had years to perfect my craft, and I¡¯m not about to lose to the likes of you.¡±


    Knight, seeing Scholar in danger, roared in fury and charged at Mia once more. His sword, now a whirling mass of jagged metal, slashed through the water with violent intent. But Mia was ready. She shifted the vortex, redirecting its force to deflect the blow, while simultaneously launching a barrage of water spears at him.


    ¡°You¡¯re still outnumbered, Mia!¡± Knight bellowed, struggling against the unrelenting force of the water. ¡°You can¡¯t hold us both off forever!¡±


    ¡°Watch me,¡± Mia shot back, her voice filled with determination. The blessing had given her a second wind, and she wasn¡¯t about to waste it.


    With a powerful gesture, she sent a tidal wave crashing into Knight, sweeping him off his feet and slamming him into the far wall. The impact caused the metal in his armor to screech and buckle, his sword momentarily losing its shape as he struggled to maintain control.


    Scholar, meanwhile, had managed to retrieve her book, but the damage was done. The curse¡¯s effects were weakened, and Mia¡¯s water now flowed with a strength that was impossible to overcome. Scholar¡¯s attempts to debilitate her were met with fierce resistance, the blessing turning every curse back on itself.


    Mia advanced on them, her expression fierce, as the vortex of water continued to swirl around her, cutting off any route of escape. She could feel the fight nearing its climax, the tides turning irrevocably in her favor.


    Mia could feel the shift in the air, a dreadful tension thickening as Knight and Scholar prepared their next move. She stood poised, her vortex of water swirling with relentless fury, but the sudden, eerie silence that fell over the room sent a chill down her spine.


    The two adversaries locked eyes, their expressions resolute, as if a grim understanding had passed between them.


    ¡°We have to activate them, don¡¯t we?¡± Scholar¡¯s voice trembled, betraying a hint of the fear that even she couldn¡¯t suppress.


    ¡°Not just activate them,¡± Knight growled, his tone as cold as the steel he wielded. ¡°Release them at full power.¡±


    Mia¡¯s heart skipped a beat as she watched Knight raise his hand, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. ¡°Oh maiden of damnation, I beseech you,¡± he began, his voice rising in a dark, fervent chant. ¡°I offer my life, my suffering, my pain, all for your boon. Grant me your power, so I may obtain revenge on she who wronged me¡­ Artifact 0-23, Iron Maiden.¡±


    The transformation was immediate and horrifying. Knight¡¯s armor, already an imposing sight, seemed to come alive with a terrible, sentient hunger. It roared, an inhuman, guttural sound that echoed through the room like the wail of a thousand tortured souls. The cheap black hoodie and sweatpants Knight wore over his armor erupted into flames, the fire consuming them and searing his flesh beneath the metal.


    The temperature within the armor soared, the heat so intense that even Mia, standing several feet away, could feel the oppressive wave of heat washing over her. But what came next was far worse. The armor itself began to sprout spikes, cruel and jagged, like the fangs of some ancient beast. Inside, the spikes punctured Knight¡¯s body, tearing through flesh and bone with ruthless precision. Blood poured from the wounds, but Knight did not fall. Instead, the armor seemed to drink it in, feeding on his life force like a vampire. The spikes on the outside grew longer, sharper, and more menacing, turning Knight into a living weapon of torment.


    He stood there, a grotesque figure of suffering and malice, his once-human form now a twisted parody of knighthood. His voice, when it came, was a low, guttural growl. ¡°Pain is temporary,¡± he snarled, his eyes glowing with a malevolent fire. ¡°But the vengeance I will wreak upon you, Mia, will be eternal.¡±


    But the horror was far from over. Scholar, watching Knight¡¯s transformation with grim determination, began her own invocation. ¡°Oh devourer of destiny, consumer of luck,¡± she chanted, her voice rising above the crackling flames. ¡°Thou who shall devour all the hope and despair in this world. Relinquish your boon, and I shall offer you a snack. Allow me to obtain revenge on the wretch who wronged me¡­ Grade 0 artifact, Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch.¡±


    The messenger bag slung around Scholar¡¯s shoulder responded with a sinister, gleeful laugh, a sound so vile and wicked that it made Mia¡¯s ears bleed. She winced, momentarily disoriented by the sheer malevolence of the artifact.


    The bag¡¯s mouth, an impossibly large, gaping maw, opened wide, revealing a void of infinite darkness. The very color seemed to drain from the world around it, as if reality itself was being sucked into the abyss within. A long, serpent-like purple tongue snaked out from the bag, wrapping itself around Scholar¡¯s arm with a possessive grip.


    Mia¡¯s eyes widened in horror as the tongue tightened its hold and, with a vicious yank, tore Scholar¡¯s arm from its socket. The wound should have been fatal, the pain unbearable, but the bag merely licked the gaping hole, sealing it. The tongue retracted back into the bag, carrying the severed arm with it, as if devouring it for sustenance.


    The air around Scholar darkened, the colors of the room fading into a dull, lifeless gray. The void inside the bag pulsed with a sickly, unnatural light, a beacon of despair that threatened to consume everything in its path. Mia could feel the pull of the void, the relentless hunger of the artifact, as it sought to devour all the hope and courage she had left.


    ¡°Do you feel it, Mia?¡± Scholar hissed, her voice now tinged with madness. ¡°The end of your pathetic resistance? The Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch will consume everything, your strength, your will, your very soul. You¡¯ll be nothing but a hollow shell, devoid of purpose, and then¡­ you¡¯ll die.¡±


    Mia¡¯s heart raced, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She could feel the overwhelming power of the two Grade 0 artifacts pressing down on her, suffocating her. The water vortex around her faltered, the once unstoppable force now reduced to a mere trickle as she struggled to maintain control.


    As Mia staggered, the laughter bubbling up from deep within her chest grew uncontrollable, manic. The reality of her situation settled in with a twisted sense of irony, a cruel joke she could not help but find hilariously fitting.


    ¡°So this is it, huh? This is how I die,¡± she cackled, her voice wild and unhinged. ¡°How utterly hilarious¡­ I can feel it, madness, settling in.¡±


    Her left eye darkened, the sclera turning an ominous black while her iris burned with an intense, unnatural blue. The transformation was horrifying yet captivating, a gruesome spectacle that caused Knight and Scholar to pause. They recognized the signs all too well¡ªMia was on the brink of something terrible.


    ¡°How perfect,¡± Scholar sneered, her lips curling into a cruel smile. ¡°You¡¯re turning into the monster you truly are.¡±


    ¡°This is quite terrifying¡­ Throughout history, only one person has ever controlled madness, Michello, the so-called Priest of Half-Insanity. Yet for some reason, I¡¯m confident I¡¯ll be the second,¡± Mia laughed, her voice dripping with dark, twisted joy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t delude yourself!¡± Knight shouted, his voice rising in anger. ¡°You¡¯ll simply become a frenzied, a fate far worse than death. A fate you deserve¡±


    But Mia was beyond reasoning. The intoxicating sensation of losing herself to madness was overwhelming, consuming every fiber of her being. ¡°You know,¡± she murmured, almost dreamily, ¡°this feeling is truly intoxicating. I rather enjoy it¡­ this madness.¡±


    Her body continued its grotesque transformation, her right arm no longer recognizable as a limb but a writhing mass of water. The liquid struggled to maintain any semblance of shape, continuously pouring out like a broken dam, forming a misshapen tentacle that lashed about unpredictably. Small red cracks spider-webbed across her skin, water leaking from them in a steady, unnerving flow.


    Yet despite the agony wracking her body, Mia¡¯s laughter only grew louder, more deranged. She reveled in the chaos consuming her, her mind shattered by the overwhelming pain and power. The surrounding atmosphere thickened with a crushing pressure, the very air seeming to weep under the weight of the madness that now emanated from Mia¡¯s being.


    Knight and Scholar watched with a mixture of horror and grim anticipation, knowing that whatever came next would be beyond their control. The woman before them was no longer Mia, the skilled hydromancer they had once known. She was something else entirely, something dangerous, unpredictable, and utterly lost to the madness.


    The air crackled with tension, the room vibrating with the force of Mia¡¯s unstable aura. Her laughter echoed through the walls, a haunting melody of despair and delirium. The battle had taken a dark, sinister turn, and as Mia¡¯s transformation continued, one thing became terrifyingly clear, there was no going back.


    ¡°Would you look at that,¡± Mia murmured, her voice tinged with a blend of dark amusement and eerie calm. Her laughter bubbled up again, this time more controlled, yet no less unsettling. ¡°I¡¯m still somewhat in control¡­ let¡¯s see what this new body can do,¡± she laughed, the sound sharp and vicious, echoing through the room like the prelude to a storm.

 Chapter 26-Betrayal and Horror

    Six years ago, just a week after the Invidia raid, Mia sat in her office, the soft, comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. The gentle clink of porcelain against her saucer broke the silence, a stark contrast to the chaos she knew lay beyond the walls of her sanctuary. Each sip of the hot tea spread warmth through her, a brief reprieve from the cold realities that had come to define her life.


    The office was a haven of memories, lined with bookshelves that held ancient texts and mementos from countless missions. The room was meticulously organized, each item a testament to her long years of service. But her eyes were drawn to a single photograph on her desk, a snapshot of a time long gone. In the photo, she stood beside her former classmates: Knight, Scholar, and others whose faces were now just memories, etched in the annals of history. Ten individuals once filled that picture; now, only three remained, the others lost to the brutal realities of their world, some during the Invidia raid, others claimed by the monsters they hunted.


    A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. The door creaked open, and two figures entered. The first was a man with long, disheveled black hair that fell over his orange eyes, his appearance unkempt, as if he hadn''t bothered with grooming in days. He wore a hoodie and sweatpants, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Next to him stood a woman, shorter in stature, with curly pink hair that framed her face. Her green eyes were wide behind circular-framed glasses, and her suit, complete with a pink tie, was crisp but did little to hide her nervousness. It was Knight whose real name was Jack and Scholar whose real name was Elizabeth. They exchanged uneasy glances before finally speaking, their voices tinged with the uncertainty of what was to come.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard the rumors. Nikolai left A.E.G.I.S after what happened to Emma, and many agents followed him¡­ um¡­¡± Elizabeth¡¯s voice trembled, the words faltering on her lips as she struggled to finish her sentence.


    Mia¡¯s eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable as she placed her teacup back onto its saucer with a soft clink. ¡°I¡¯ve heard the rumors,¡± she said calmly, her tone masking any emotion. ¡°But what does that have to do with me?¡±


    Elizabeth glanced at Jack, searching for support. Jack stepped forward, his voice firm but carrying an underlying tension. ¡°We were considering leaving as well. We want you to come with us. If we leave now, we won¡¯t be caught.¡±


    Mia¡¯s eyes flicked between the two, her gaze piercing. ¡°This is ridiculous. You can¡¯t be serious. Where would you even go?¡± Her words were sharp, tinged with anger.


    ¡°Nikolai has been gathering people to a base. He even has a method of finding Awakened who aren¡¯t members of A.E.G.I.S. It¡¯s at a level similar to that of the Bookkeeper¡¯s, Elizabeth said. Her voice gained a bit of confidence as she relayed the information.


    ¡°I see,¡± Mia replied, her voice low, almost contemplative. The tea in her cup began to ripple, the liquid moving of its own accord. ¡°Where is he gathering everyone?¡±


    ¡°A castle in¡ª¡± Elizabeth started, but Jack quickly cut her off.


    ¡°Be honest, Mia. You have no intention of joining us, do you?¡± Jack¡¯s voice was steady, but there was a hint of resignation in his words.


    The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Then, in a sudden burst of motion, the tea from Mia¡¯s cup violently shot out, a stream of water aiming directly for Jack¡¯s eye. He barely managed to dodge it, the liquid splashing against the wall behind him.


    ¡°Not in the slightest, you trash,¡± Mia spat, her voice laced with venom. The calm, controlled demeanor she¡¯d maintained shattered, revealing the seething anger beneath the surface.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you would do this! After everything A.E.G.I.S has done for us, after everything I¡¯ve sacrificed, and this is how you repay them? If it weren¡¯t for the leader, I¡¯d still be rotting in that hellhole!¡± Mia¡¯s voice cracked with fury, her control over her emotions unraveling with each word.


    The surrounding air began to shimmer, the moisture coalescing into sharp, condensed bullets of water. With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed them with deadly precision. The water bullets tore through the air, seeking their targets with relentless force.


    Elizabeth and Jack barely managed to dodge the onslaught, the bullets whizzing past them, only to twist midair and chase after them again. The water seemed to have a mind of its own, each droplet infused with Mia¡¯s rage.


    ¡°We know! We know what they¡¯ve done for us, but¡­ but they can¡¯t be trusted anymore!¡± Elizabeth¡¯s voice was desperate as she dodged the relentless assault, her movements frantic and panicked.


    The surrounding walls began to groan as Jack¡¯s ability took hold, the metal warping and twisting under his command. He formed a protective shield around them, the metallic barrier straining to hold against the water bullets¡¯ impact.


    ¡°Mia, please, just trust us!¡± Jack¡¯s voice was pleading, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and urgency.


    ¡°I did!¡± Mia screamed, her voice thick with betrayal. The water bullets intensified, slamming against the metal shield with increasing force. ¡°But you¡¯ve chosen to betray that trust! I¡¯ll apprehend you both myself. Let Area 51 deal with traitors like you!¡± Her words dripped with venom, each one a dagger aimed at their hearts.


    ¡°You know we¡¯re right, Mia! The Invidia raid was a disaster¡ªwe lost nearly everyone, and for what? We¡¯re all that¡¯s left of our class, and you know damn well the boss had an ulterior motive for sending us in there!¡± Jack yelled, his voice thick with desperation as he tried to break through to her.


    Mia¡¯s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on the water as she prepared her next attack. ¡°You¡¯re delusional if you think I¡¯ll believe that! The Invidia raid was necessary, we did what we had to, what A.E.G.I.S needed us to do!¡± Her voice was thick with conviction, but there was an undercurrent of something else, doubt, fear, anger.


    As she spoke, the surrounding water began to swirl faster, condensing into razor-sharp blades. She hurled them at Jack and Elizabeth with a flick of her hand, each blade cutting through the air with lethal precision.


    Jack gritted his teeth, his eyes flickering with desperation as he focused on reinforcing the metallic shield. The metal groaned under the pressure, bending and twisting as he struggled to keep up with Mia¡¯s relentless assault. ¡°Damn it, Mia! Think for a second! Why do you think we were sent on that mission? Invidia wasn''t a danger to anyone, it wasn''t in a location where it would be found. The boss wanted something from it.¡±


    The metallic shield began to warp further, the strain evident as Mia¡¯s water blades struck with increasing force. Elizabeth, breathing heavily, added her voice to the plea, ¡°We lost everyone, Mia! Everyone we cared about, Stella, Lucas, Dorothy, they¡¯re all gone! And for what? What was the point of the raid?¡±


    Mia¡¯s eyes flashed with rage, but the mention of their fallen comrades hit something deep inside her. The water swirling around her faltered for a moment, but only for a moment. ¡°Shut up!¡± she screamed, her voice raw with emotion. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about! We made sacrifices for the greater good!¡±


    As she spoke, the water reformed into a massive tidal wave, crashing toward them with terrifying speed. Jack¡¯s metallic shield buckled under the force, but he pushed back, using every ounce of his power to keep them safe.


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice trembled as she continued, ¡°Please, Mia! We don¡¯t want to fight you! We just want you to see the truth. The boss doesn¡¯t care about us, he never did. We¡¯re just pawns in his game, expendable and replaceable.¡±


    Mia hesitated, her eyes flickering with something, doubt, uncertainty. But then her face hardened, and she forced the tidal wave to crash down harder. ¡°You¡¯re wrong! The boss saved us, and gave us purpose! You¡¯ve just lost sight of that!¡±


    Jack grunted as he reinforced the shield once more, the metal bending and twisting under the immense pressure. ¡°Mia, please! We don¡¯t have to do this! We can still leave together, and start over! A.E.G.I.S doesn¡¯t own us!¡±


    Water bullets zipped through the air, twisting with impossible agility as they homed in on Jack and Elizabeth. Jack strained to maintain his metal shield, the walls creaking and groaning as he manipulated the metal to deflect the relentless assault. But even as he fought to protect them, his voice remained urgent, pleading.


    ¡°You know we¡¯re right, Mia! We¡¯re all that''s left, please just come with us!¡± Elizabeth yelled.


    Mia¡¯s expression twisted with rage, her control over the water intensifying. The kettle on her desk began to shake, its contents boiling over with her fury. With a flick of her wrist, she launched it toward Jack.


    He smirked, confident in his abilities. ¡°Don¡¯t you know I can control metal?¡± Jack taunted as the kettle froze in midair, mere inches from his head.


    But the danger wasn¡¯t in the metal¡ªit was in the water. The scalding liquid erupted from the kettle, wrapping around Jack¡¯s head in a searing vice. He screamed in agony, his hands clawing at the boiling water that scalded his skin. The pain was blinding, and his concentration wavered, the barrier around him faltering.


    Mia saw her chance and didn¡¯t hesitate. She rushed forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Elizabeth, panicking, activated her debuff ability, trying to slow Mia down, but it was too late. Mia was already upon them.


    With ruthless precision, Mia jabbed two fingers into Elizabeth¡¯s glasses, shattering them and driving shards of glass into Elizabeth¡¯s eyes. Elizabeth screamed, clutching her bleeding face as she crumpled to the ground.


    Mia didn¡¯t stop. She delivered a swift, brutal kick to Elizabeth¡¯s head, knocking her to the floor. The force of the blow sent Elizabeth sprawling, her cries of pain echoing through the office. Jack, still writhing in agony, desperately tried to reform his defenses, but the damage was done.


    Jack gritted his teeth, the searing pain from the scalding water still radiating across his face, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn''t let it end like this. With a sharp breath, he manipulated the metal from the walls, shaping it into shot-put-sized balls that hovered menacingly in the surrounding air.


    ¡°You think this is over, Mia?¡± Jack growled, his voice hoarse from the pain. He flung his hand forward, sending the metal balls hurtling toward her with deadly precision.


    Mia swiftly formed a barrier of water, but the force of the metal projectiles crashing against it sent shockwaves through the room. The impact was so strong that it cracked the floor beneath her. But Mia wasn''t one to be easily overwhelmed. She redirected the water from her barrier, turning it into a swirling vortex that caught the shot put balls, spinning them around her like a storm before hurling them back at Jack.


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    He barely had time to react, diving to the side as one of the balls grazed his arm, tearing through his sleeve and leaving a deep gash. Despite the injury, Jack kept moving, using the metal around the room to create makeshift weapons and launching them in rapid succession. The room became a blur of metal and water, each attack more ferocious than the last.


    Meanwhile, Elizabeth, struggling to regain her composure, wiped the blood from her eyes and stood on shaky legs. Her vision was blurred, but she could still make out Mia¡¯s silhouette amidst the chaos. With a grim determination, she activated her debuff ability again, focusing all her remaining strength on slowing Mia down.


    Mia felt the effects almost immediately, her movements growing sluggish, the water she commanded becoming harder to control. She snarled in frustration, knowing it was Elizabeth¡¯s doing. But even as her body resisted, Mia¡¯s will was unyielding. She forced the water to obey, using it to create a massive wave that crashed down upon Jack and Elizabeth, intending to crush them under its weight.


    But Jack was ready. He slammed his hand against the wall, manipulating the metal to form a protective dome around him and Elizabeth. The wave crashed against it, water splashing in all directions, but the dome held firm. Jack, sweating from the effort, knew they couldn¡¯t keep this up for long.


    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± Jack panted, his voice urgent. ¡°We¡¯re not winning this.¡±


    Elizabeth, her face pale and streaked with blood, nodded weakly. ¡°Just¡­ one last push.¡±


    Jack lowered the dome slightly, just enough to gather the remaining metal in the room. He shaped it into several more shot put balls, then launched them all at once with everything he had left. The barrage was relentless, forcing Mia to split her focus between deflecting the metal and maintaining her attack.


    For a brief moment, it seemed like the metal would break through her defenses. Mia, feeling the strain, hesitated, just for a split second.


    But it was enough.


    Jack seized the opportunity, pulling Elizabeth to her feet and dashing for the door. He blasted the metal door off its hinges, clearing their escape route. As they stumbled into the hallway, Mia¡¯s eyes flashed with fury, but that momentary hesitation had cost her. She regained control, but by the time she turned to unleash her wrath, they were already gone.


    Breathing heavily, Mia stood in the wrecked office, water dripping from her hands, her body still trembling from the effects of Elizabeth¡¯s debuff. She cursed under her breath, the rage boiling within her, but it was too late. They had escaped.


    Jack and Elizabeth had managed to slip through her grasp, but she knew it wouldn¡¯t be the last time they crossed paths. Next time, she wouldn¡¯t hesitate.


    In the current day, as the battle raged on above, the tension in the bunker was palpable. The kids huddled together, their anxiety mixing with a sense of urgency.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on up there? Is Mrs. Stone going to be okay?¡± Celia¡¯s voice trembled with worry, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± Jacob said, trying to sound reassuring despite the strain in his voice. ¡°We¡¯ve seen her handle tougher situations. She¡¯s super strong, remember? Just look at all the times she¡¯s deflected Charles¡¯s attacks.¡±


    Alice, her eyes darting nervously around the dimly lit bunker, added, ¡°Speaking of Charles, he and Iris are still in the medical office. Do you think they¡¯ll be alright?¡±


    Xavier¡¯s face was a mask of determination. ¡°I¡¯m worried about them too. I don¡¯t want anything to happen to either of them. We have to do something.¡±


    Theo, glancing at his sister Celia with concern, said, ¡°I want to help, but I¡¯m also scared for Celia. The chaos up there is dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Celia insisted, her voice quivering but resolute. ¡°I want to help them. We can¡¯t just sit here. Can we please try to find them?¡±


    Jacob nodded, his face set with resolve. ¡°Alright, it¡¯s agreed. We need to help them. The bunker leads to many hidden passages throughout the facility. If we make our way through them, we can reach the medical office.¡±


    The group quickly rallied, their fear giving way to a unified determination. They navigated the dark, narrow passages, the echoes of their footsteps mingling with the distant sounds of the ongoing battle. The passages were a maze of dimly lit corridors and tight spaces, but their goal was clear.


    Little did Iris know that her actions had profoundly altered the course of the future. The butterfly¡¯s wings beat furiously, setting off a chain of events that would ripple through time, bringing about monumental changes


    As the kids emerged from the hidden passage, the scene that greeted them was both horrifying and surreal. They stepped into a corridor of the facility that seemed to have been ravaged by a brutal massacre. The once sterile hallway was now a grotesque display of carnage. Bodies of A.E.G.I.S agents lay strewn across the floor, their lifeless forms twisted in unnatural positions. The walls were stained with dark splatters of blood, and the floor was littered with torn limbs, some partially devoured, others bearing the marks of violent wounds.


    Some limbs were grotesquely mutilated, chunks of flesh missing as if gnawed upon. In places, agents'' hearts had been ripped out, their chests left gaping and exposed. A few had bullet holes in their heads, grim testimonies to the desperate, final attempts to escape the horrors that had befallen them. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of death, a chilling reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.


    At the center of this nightmarish scene, seated on a mangled corpse, was a young man whose presence seemed almost otherworldly amidst the carnage. He had medium-length blonde hair that framed his face with an unsettling grace. His eyes were a deep, blood-red crimson, glowing with a malevolent intensity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. Those eyes were both captivating and horrifying, conveying a sense of ancient malevolence and unearthly power.


    Despite the gruesome setting, the young man¡¯s facial features were strikingly handsome, reminiscent of a classic film star from an era long past. Yet, there was something profoundly unsettling about his beauty. His features were perfect, but there was an eerie quality to them that set him apart from any ordinary human. His demeanor, while seemingly relaxed as he gnawed on a severed arm, was a chilling contrast to the brutality surrounding him.


    The sight of him, so calm and composed amidst the horror, was enough to freeze the blood of anyone who dared to meet his gaze. The kids, their faces pale with fear and shock, found themselves caught between the macabre scene and the enigmatic figure before them. The contrast between his unnerving beauty and the brutality of his surroundings filled them with utter horror.


    The man sprang from the corpse with a fluid, predatory grace, landing lightly on his feet. In a swift, brutal motion, he hurled the severed arm he had been consuming with such force that it splattered against the wall, leaving a grotesque crimson stain that trickled down like a macabre piece of modern art.


    Before the children could fully process the horror before them, he was upon them in the blink of an eye. His speed was otherworldly, a blur of motion that defied natural limits. He crouched in front of them, his face mere inches from theirs, his red eyes gleaming with a sinister curiosity. The air seemed to crackle with an oppressive energy as he bent down, his gaze piercing through them with an almost tangible malice.


    ¡°How delightful,¡± he murmured, his voice smooth yet laced with a chilling edge. ¡°I was under the impression that all the children had scurried away to their little bunkers. How utterly amusing to find you so exposed. What a deliciously foolish predicament you¡¯ve placed yourselves in. Tell me, what should I do with you all?¡±


    His words were spoken with a calm, almost conversational tone, but the menace behind them was undeniable. His eyes flickered with an unsettling amusement, as if contemplating various ways to entertain himself with their terror.


    The children stood paralyzed, their faces drained of color as they stared at the Boogeyman. Fear gripped them so tightly that they couldn¡¯t move, their minds racing yet unable to form any coherent plan. The stark contrast between his calm demeanor and the grotesque violence he had just inflicted left them rooted to the spot, unable to escape the looming threat that seemed to envelop them like a shroud.


    The Boogeyman stood calmly as the children, driven by sheer desperation, launched their attacks. The chaos began with Xavier, his hands crackling with icy energy. He hurled a barrage of ice shards toward the Boogeyman, each shard slicing through the air with lethal precision. Yet, with a casual flick of his wrist, the Boogeyman raised a hand and absorbed the icy assault, the shards dissolving into nothingness as if they had never been.


    Theo, his face set in grim determination, focused intently. With a whisper of concentration, he cast his power over the Boogeyman, attempting to strip him of his sight. The Boogeyman¡¯s eyes momentarily glazed over, but within seconds, they regained their piercing intensity. Theo¡¯s efforts had no lasting effect, the Boogeyman¡¯s senses returning as though they had never been tampered with.


    Celia, feeling her ability¡¯s limitations, could only watch in horror. She tried to assist by throwing objects from the surroundings, but they had little impact. The Boogeyman¡¯s laughter echoed through the hall as he effortlessly deflected the objects with a flick of his hand.


    Alice, in a frantic effort to protect her friends, summoned a handful of makeshift swords, their jagged forms glinting with determination. She thrust them at the Boogeyman, but his movements were fluid and almost graceful as he dodged and caught the swords mid-air. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent the weapons clattering to the ground, their purpose rendered meaningless.


    Jacob, feeling the weight of his uselessness without his dolls, stood on the sidelines, his frustration evident but unable to change the tide of the battle. He watched helplessly as his friends fought and failed.


    The Boogeyman¡¯s grin widened as he observed their futile efforts. With a sudden burst of motion, he lashed out with a powerful kick, sending Xavier sprawling across the floor.


    Theo tried to act quickly, launching another attack, but the Boogeyman was already upon him. With a swift, almost lazy motion, he kicked Theo hard in the ribs, the impact forcing Theo to crumple in pain, his vision briefly clouded by the sudden onslaught.


    Celia, unable to contribute effectively, found herself on the receiving end of the Boogeyman¡¯s attention. He kicked her aside with a swift, merciless strike, her body hitting the floor with a thud. She lay there, dazed and struggling to move, her efforts to assist proving fruitless.


    He grabbed Jacob by the neck and carelessly threw him. Jacob landed heavily on a mangled corpse, the grotesque sight of limbs and blood breaking his fall. The impact left him sprawled in the filth, struggling to move, the pain from the throw overwhelming him.


    Alice, her eyes fierce with determination, was the last one standing. The swords she conjured sliced through the air, but they barely grazed the Boogeyman¡¯s seemingly impenetrable form. Each attack was deflected with eerie ease, the Boogeyman¡¯s calm demeanor only adding to her desperation. Her control over her ability faltered, tiny tears of blood forming at the corners of her eyes as her energy drained rapidly.


    The Boogeyman regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. His gaze was almost clinical, as if he were a spectator to a grand performance rather than a participant. He advanced toward her with an unnerving calm, each step deliberate, savoring the impending climax of their confrontation.


    In a swift motion, he seized Alice by the hair, lifting her off the ground with a brutal grip. He forced her to meet his gaze, their faces inches apart. The contrast between her desperate, tear-streaked face and his cold, indifferent stare was jarring.


    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± the Boogeyman said, his voice taking on a sinister edge. ¡°I recognize you. Your father was an interesting man. It was a shame what happened to him.¡±


    Alice¡¯s eyes widened in horror, her breath catching in her throat. She had never known her real parents, only the cruel lies of her adoptive family who had told her they abandoned her, that they had never loved her. The Boogeyman¡¯s revelation was a chilling blow to her already shattered world.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to keep an eye on you,¡± he said, his voice dripping with malice.


    His finger began to twist and contort, morphing into a grotesque, elongated worm. It wriggled its way toward her ear, the sensation horrifying and alien. As it entered her ear canal, drops of blood dripped from her ear. Alice¡¯s eyes glazed over, and she slumped into unconsciousness, her body going limp.


    The Boogeyman dropped her unceremoniously to the ground, her form joining the pile of unconscious and mangled bodies strewn about. He stood there for a moment, contemplating the fallen class, his expression one of cold, detached curiosity.


    Suddenly, a sharp, almost electric sensation surged through him. His head snapped to the side, his eyes narrowing as he sensed something critical.


    ¡°Excalibur¡­ Excalibur!¡± he roared, his voice echoing with a dangerous edge. Without another word, he took off with blinding speed, leaving the ruined hallway and its tragic scene behind.


    As the Boogeyman vanished into the distance, the only sound left was the eerie silence of the aftermath. The class lay scattered, unconscious, and vulnerable, surrounded by the macabre remnants of the battle. The once-hopeful students were now left in a nightmarish landscape, their fate uncertain in the wake of the Boogeyman''s sudden departure.

 Chapter 27-Baal Zebub

    The air was thick with tension, electric with the threat of violence about to break loose. Each of them stood on the edge of exhaustion, but none were willing to back down.


    Mia¡¯s cold laughter echoed, her voice a haunting contrast to the cruel smile on her face. The water swirling around her twisted and froze into deadly shards of ice, each one gleaming with a lethal edge, hovering as if waiting for her command. Jack clenched his fists, the blood seeping from reopened wounds beneath his armor fueling his power. The grotesque sword in his hand, a shifting mass of miniature blades, seemed to pulse with a hunger for the carnage to come. Every drop of blood made him stronger, every heartbeat a drumbeat to war.


    Elizabeth stood behind him, flipping open the cursed pages of the Book of Unlovable Blessings. Her fingers danced across the ancient runes, each touch bringing forth a power that weighed down the surrounding air, making it heavy with malice. Mia could feel it, the draining force of Elizabeth¡¯s ability, ready to sap her strength.


    Mia''s glowing eye flickered, the briefest vision of the future flashing before her. She could see it coming, Jack¡¯s strike, but even with her foresight, she wasn¡¯t fast enough.


    With a roar that shook the ground, iron spikes erupted beneath Mia, ripping through the earth. One of them speared through her arm, but her body shifted like liquid, her water form absorbing the blow. Ice crystallized at her fingertips, launching toward Jack with deadly precision, but he was already moving. His sword became a whirlwind of steel, each miniature blade turning into a blur of slicing edges.


    ¡°You¡¯re not escaping this time,¡± Jack snarled, his voice a low growl of fury. He charged forward, every muscle in his body tensed for the kill.


    Mia¡¯s gaze narrowed. She¡¯d seen his path. Water burst from the ground, coiling around his legs in a suffocating torrent, trying to drag him under. But Jack¡¯s blood continued to flow, and with every drop, his strength surged. His body flexed as the armor greedily drained his life force, the bindings of water shattering under his power.


    Behind him, Elizabeth remained calm, her eyes locked onto Mia. Her fingers moved like a pianist¡¯s across the pages of her cursed tome. ¡°Slow,¡± she whispered, her voice soft but laced with deadly intent. The curse took hold instantly. Mia¡¯s movements faltered, her water became slow and weak under Elizabeth¡¯s ability.


    For a fleeting moment, victory seemed close. But then Mia¡¯s eye flared with a blinding intensity. She grinned, a predator baring its teeth. She had already seen this.


    Ice appeared beneath Jack¡¯s feet as it fractured with a sickening crack, and in the next instant, it exploded upward with brutal force. Jagged spears shot up, impaling his armor and sending him hurtling through the air. Blood sprayed from his wounds, painting the ground red as he crashed into the earth, his breath coming in ragged gasps, Elizabeth gasped, her hand instinctively outstretched, but Mia was faster. The water at Elizabeth¡¯s feet surged forward, freezing instantly around her legs. The icy bonds constricted with unnatural speed, pinning her in place.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already seen how this ends,¡± Mia''s voice dripped with malice. Her grin widened, a look of pure, cold satisfaction on her face. ¡°You can¡¯t stop me.¡±


    Jack¡¯s roar of defiance echoed across the battlefield, but every movement sent fresh waves of agony through his body. His armor responded to his pain, spikes once again bursting from the ground, this time converging on Mia with deadly intent. They rose like a forest of iron, closing in from every direction.


    Elizabeth¡¯s eyes narrowed in focus as she gripped the Book of Unlovable Blessings tighter, flipping to a different page. She opened the Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch, the artifact manifesting as a dark, yawning void. Its insatiable maw spread wide, devouring the ice around her legs with terrifying ease. The moment her feet were free, she surged forward, ready to rejoin the fight.


    As the battle raged on, Jack pushed himself to his feet, blood spilling from his wounds like rivers, feeding the relentless power of his armor. His breathing was labored, his body trembling from the sheer pain coursing through him. But there was no hesitation in his eyes, only fury and the will to fight.


    Elizabeth, her eyes filled with desperation, flipped through her book, trying to draw on as much power as she could manage. Every second felt like an eternity as the weight of her own exhaustion pressed down on her, the power of her artifact draining her with each use. Her legs still ached from where the ice had bound her, but she pressed on, knowing there was no time for rest.


    Mia stood at the center of the chaos, a cold smile on her lips, her water-formed arm swirling menacingly. She watched Jack with an eerie calm, as if already knowing the outcome. ¡°You¡¯re fighting a losing battle,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the water that churned around her.


    With a swift motion, Mia¡¯s water-arm shot forward, wrapping around Jack¡¯s throat like a noose. His hands immediately flew to the liquid tendril, trying to pry it off, but the water only tightened its grip. He gasped, his strength surging as the armor drained more of his blood, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The water wasn¡¯t just holding him, it was seeping into his mouth, his nose, his lungs.


    Jack¡¯s eyes widened in terror as the realization hit him, she wasn¡¯t just choking him, she was drowning him, just as she said she would.


    ¡°Mia!¡± Elizabeth screamed, her voice cracking with fear. She sprinted toward them, her hand outstretched, the book in her right hand glowing with the curses she was preparing to unleash. But her vision blurred, and her legs faltered. Blood stained the ground beneath her as she reached out with her left hand, only to remember it wasn¡¯t there. She stared at the stump where her arm had once been as she realized something. Despite the power they gained from their artifacts, the cost of using them will be their reason for losing. She had forgotten, the desperation clouding her mind. She tried to move forward, but her strength was waning fast.


    ¡°Mia! Stop!¡± Elizabeth¡¯s voice broke into a sob, she dropped her book onto the ground as she reached out with her right hand, desperate to save Jack.


    Jack thrashed, his body convulsing as the water filled his lungs, the suffocating sensation overpowering the fire in his blood. His armor groaned under the strain, spikes bursting from the earth in one last, desperate attempt to pierce Mia, but the water swallowed them whole. His vision blurred as the world began to fade, his final gasps of air drowned in the torrent.


    Elizabeth collapsed to her knees, her hand shaking as she tried to use the last of her strength to save him. But her vision darkened, her body giving in to the overwhelming pain. She could only watch, helpless, as Mia''s water constricted tighter around Jack¡¯s throat.


    Mia¡¯s face remained impassive as Jack¡¯s struggles slowed. His body went limp, his eyes dulling as the life drained from him.


    ¡°I told you, that you would drown to death¡± Mia said coldly, her voice devoid of any warmth or remorse.


    Jack¡¯s body collapsed to the ground, lifeless, water still dripping from his mouth.


    Elizabeth¡¯s scream echoed across the classroom, raw and filled with the agony of loss. She reached out once more, her missing arm a painful reminder that there was nothing left for her to grasp. The weight of her failure crushed her, and as her sobs wracked her body, Mia turned her gaze toward her, the cruel smile never leaving her lips.


    Elizabeth¡¯s scream hung in the air, piercing the stillness that followed Jack¡¯s death. His lifeless body lay crumpled on the ground, his once towering strength reduced to nothing but a hollow shell. Water still dripped from his mouth, pooling beneath him as the last traces of Mia¡¯s lethal attack trickled away. Elizabeth could only watch, her heart splintering with each agonizing second that passed.


    Mia stood over him, her face devoid of emotion, her glowing eye flickering with cold indifference. The smile on her lips was a ghostly mockery of the person she had once been. Jack was gone, another casualty in her wake, another life she had snuffed out without hesitation.


    But as Mia turned her gaze toward Elizabeth, something dark and primal flared within the remaining fighter. Grief twisted into rage, a rage so fierce it threatened to tear her apart. She forced herself to her feet, her body trembling from the strain, the weight of the ability she had been channeling pressing down on her like lead. Her cursed artifact, the Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch seemed to pulse in response to her fury, its insatiable hunger clawing at the air, thirsting for more.


    The Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch flared to life, its abyssal maw yawning wide as the surrounding air twisted and distorted. The ground beneath it cracked and shattered, sucked into the void as if the very earth itself was being consumed. A chilling wind swept across the classroom, carrying with it the weight of a hunger so powerful it threatened to swallow everything in its path, water, blood, ice, aura¡­ even life.


    Mia¡¯s smile faltered for the first time. Her glowing eye flickered, catching glimpses of what was to come, but even she couldn¡¯t predict how this would end. The Stomach surged forward, its black maw extending outward like a sentient shadow, reaching toward her with the promise of annihilation.


    Elizabeth''s eyes burned with fury as the artifact obeyed her command, devouring everything in its path. The air grew thick with the sound of cracking ice and rushing water as the artifact began to pull the frozen remnants of Mia¡¯s previous attacks into its gaping void. It consumed the water, the debris, the blood from Jack¡¯s body, and even the spikes of iron, Jack had summoned in his last moments. It was a void of endless hunger, and Elizabeth was ready to feed Mia to it.


    ¡°You killed him!¡± Elizabeth¡¯s voice trembled, her body weak, but her spirit burning with a fury that refused to be extinguished. ¡°I will erase you. I¡¯ll devour every last piece of you until there¡¯s nothing left.¡±


    Mia''s expression shifted as the Stomach drew closer, its pull relentless. She could feel the tug, the overwhelming force threatening to drag her into the abyss. The surrounding water churned violently as she attempted to resist, her control faltering. But Mia was no ordinary foe. She had seen this, had felt this. The future twisted in her mind, fragmented glimpses flashing before her, paths of survival, threads of escape. Her left eye flared, a pulse of light illuminating the dark battlefield.


    With a sharp flick of her wrist, the water beneath her exploded upward, a surge of liquid force that momentarily broke the pull of the Stomach¡¯s gravity. The torrent wrapped around her like a shield, forming a protective barrier as she struggled against the artifact¡¯s immense power. Her arm, still formed of water, elongated, twisting in the air like a whip as she lashed out toward Elizabeth, intent on ending the battle before it could consume her.


    Elizabeth¡¯s right arm flew up in defense, her hand gripping the book tighter as she called upon her ability. ¡°Silence,¡± she hissed, casting the debilitating power directly toward Mia. The ability struck true, slamming into Mia¡¯s mind like a hammer, dulling her senses, slowing her movements. But Mia was prepared. Her water-arm snapped through the air, crashing into Elizabeth and sending her staggering backward, her body nearly crumpling from the force of the impact.


    For a brief moment, the Stomach faltered, its pull weakening as Elizabeth struggled to regain control.


    Mia seized the opportunity, her water form shifting once more. She reconstituted her arm, transforming it into a massive wave that surged toward Elizabeth, intending to sweep her off her feet and crush her beneath its weight. But Elizabeth, though battered, was relentless. With a snarl, she slammed the Stomach into the ground, the artifact¡¯s maw widening once again as it renewed its assault, this time directly targeting Mia¡¯s water-arm.


    The pull was stronger now, more desperate, as if the Stomach itself sensed the growing power within Mia. The water-arm began to bend, inching toward the void as Mia fought to keep her form intact. Her eye glowed brighter, visions of her own death flashing before her, and for a moment, uncertainty crossed her face.


    Elizabeth saw it, the momentary flicker of doubt, and pressed forward. ¡°You¡¯ll be devoured,¡± she spat, her voice hoarse. ¡°You¡¯ll die, you horrid murderer.¡±


    Mia¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°I¡¯ve seen all of this before,¡± she whispered, voice cold and unwavering. With a final surge of power, her water-arm snapped free from the Stomach¡¯s pull, retracting and reforming into a deadly spear of ice. Without hesitation, she thrust it forward, aiming straight for Elizabeth¡¯s heart, determined to end this battle.


    Elizabeth, too weak to dodge, could only brace herself for the inevitable strike. But just as the ice spear was about to pierce her chest, her artifact, the Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch reacted. Its long, grotesque tongue shot out from the dark void, wrapping itself around the spear. With a vile, echoing laughter, the Stomach devoured the ice entirely, swallowing it whole. The artifact had a mind of its own, one driven by a monstrous hunger.


    Before Elizabeth could comprehend what was happening, the artifact turned on her. The tongue, slick and writhing, slithered toward her head. In an instant, it coiled around her neck and yanked with savage force, ripping her head clean off. Elizabeth''s body crumpled lifelessly to the ground as her severed head disappeared into the bag¡¯s insatiable maw. Blood sprayed from her neck, pooling beneath her, but the Stomach was not finished.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The bag continued to laugh maniacally as it devoured the rest of Elizabeth¡¯s body, piece by piece, with no hesitation. The air grew thick with the grotesque sounds of bones cracking and flesh being consumed, each bite more disturbing than the last. But the Stomach wasn¡¯t done. It turned its attention toward Jack¡¯s remains. Without pause, its tongue lunged toward his corpse, consuming him as well, body, blood, and the artifact he wielded. Everything disappeared into its dark void.


    The classroom was now silent, save for the sickening sound of the Stomach finishing its gruesome feast. But something far worse was about to unfold. The bag began to writhe, contorting and twisting unnaturally. Its form bubbled and expanded, as if something inside was forcing its way out.


    Mia¡¯s glowing eye flickered in disbelief. This was not the future she had foreseen.


    The Stomach of the Gluttonous Monarch began to melt into a thick black sludge, wriggling and pulsating as it morphed. The grotesque liquid twisted and coiled upon itself, growing taller and more defined, slowly taking shape. Limbs formed, stretching out from the mass, and features began to emerge from the twisting ooze.


    From the sludge, a figure rose, no longer an artifact but a young man. His hair was a dark, shade of purple, falling messily around his face, and where his eyes should have been, there were only empty, hollow sockets. Two sharp horns, like those of a ram, curved from his forehead, adding to his monstrous appearance. He wore a regal crimson robe, frayed at the edges, and beneath it, a maroon button-up shirt and dark dress pants. Small insect-like wings buzzed from beneath his robe, and a slender black tail with an arrowhead tip flicked idly behind him. His smile was sharp but imperfect, one of his fangs was missing, giving him an unsettling, lopsided grin.


    ¡°Though that meal was meager,¡± the man said, his voice smooth but laced with irritation, ¡°it seems it was enough to revive me¡­ though this state is rather pathetic.¡± He ran a hand through his purple hair, looking down at his newly-formed body with mild disdain. ¡°This¡­ is far from ideal.¡±


    Mia¡¯s shock quickly gave way to fury. She had not predicted this, had not seen this in any of her glimpses into the future. And now, both Elizabeth and Jack were gone, devoured by this twisted creature. With a scream of rage, she charged at him, her water-arm reforming into a massive wave that surged forward, ready to drown him.


    But in an instant, the man¡¯s arm shot out. Before Mia could react, his hand was wrapped around her throat. It wasn¡¯t just a grab, her very neck seemed to have been sucked into his grasp, like her body was nothing more than vapor to him. His grip was impossibly strong, and no matter how much she struggled, she couldn¡¯t break free.


    ¡°You seem like quite a tasty meal,¡± the man mused, his grin widening as he studied her with his hollow eyes. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, slowly kissing her.


    Mia¡¯s body convulsed, her eyes widening in horror as she felt something inside her shift. The corruption that had tainted her, warping her form and mind, began to dissolve. The corruption was slowly drained into his mouth. The cracks in her skin sealed, the ominous glow in her eye faded, and her arm reformed from water back to flesh and bone. Her body, once twisted by the darkness she had wielded, was returned to its original, unblemished state.


    Baal pulled back, his grip loosening as a smile of mild satisfaction played on his lips. ¡°Much better,¡± he murmured, his voice soft but dripping with sinister amusement. He released Mia, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, her body trembling from the shock of the transformation. The weight of what had just transpired settled on her like a stone. Baal looked down at her, and despite his hollow, eyeless gaze, there was an eerie, amused glint in his expression.


    ¡°You were quite a lovely meal.¡±


    Mia, still struggling to catch her breath, stared up at him in disbelief, fear mingling with the shock coursing through her veins. Her body, once corrupted and powerful, had returned to its human form, leaving her feeling vulnerable.


    ¡°For that delicious meal you provided me,¡± The man continued with a lazy, cheerful tone, ¡°I''ll let you survive, madam. I should probably provide my name, that¡¯s the least I could do for someone so¡­ delectable. My name is Baal. Baal Zebub, the second Monarch of the Abyss, the Gluttonous Monarch.¡± He said it calmly, as though discussing the weather, yet the weight of those words sent a shiver down Mia¡¯s spine.


    The name alone filled Mia with dread. The Abyss was a realm few on Earth understood, but what little was known had always been shrouded in horror. Monsters from that twisted place had begun appearing on Earth, their worlds somehow linked, causing untold destruction. To hear that the man standing before her, no, the thing was one of their Monarchs ignited a primal fear in Mia. Her body felt cold.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re the Sin of Gluttony,¡± Mia spat, trying to push through her fear. Anger flared up inside her. They had fought so hard to kill Invidia, the Sin of Envy, and now, another powerful being from the Abyss had appeared. Her hands clenched into trembling fists. ¡°We worked hard to kill Invidia, and here¡¯s another one of you bastards.¡±


    Baal chuckled softly, a disturbingly casual sound. ¡°Sin? Oh no, no, no, don¡¯t place me on that level,¡± he said, waving her words away as though they were an amusing joke. ¡°The Monarchs rule the Sins. And while I am no longer the official King of the Abyss¡­ trust me, my power is more than enough to slaughter everyone here if I wished.¡± He grinned widely, revealing sharp, mismatched teeth. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t plan on it. I¡¯ve taken a liking to you, human.¡±


    Mia¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, but there was nothing she could do at this moment. Her power was gone, and facing Baal, the Gluttonous Monarch, filled her with a terror she couldn¡¯t shake.


    ¡°Now, come on,¡± Baal said cheerfully, his mood shifting with a disturbing swiftness. He reached out, grabbing Mia by the arm with a firm but not painful grip. ¡°There¡¯s a delicious buffet just ahead, and someone was kind enough to leave it behind for me.¡±


    Mia stumbled as Baal began to drag her down the corridor, his steps light and eager, as though he were about to feast on a grand meal. They passed through the darkened hallway until they arrived at a horrifying sight, the corpses of A.E.G.I.S agents lay scattered across the floor, bloodied and broken. Among them were the unconscious bodies of her students.


    Mia¡¯s breath hitched. Her eyes widened in panic as she pulled away from Baal¡¯s grip, rushing to her students¡¯ side. Thoughts flooded her mind. ¡°No¡­ this wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. They had been safe in the bunker. Why had they left? What had happened here?¡±


    Mia knelt beside the nearest body, her hands trembling as she checked for a pulse. Relief washed over her when she realized they were alive, but barely. Their breathing was shallow, their bodies broken and battered, as though they had been caught in the crossfire of some unimaginable force.


    Baal watched her with idle curiosity, tapping his chin. ¡°Are these kids important to you?¡± he asked, tilting his head like a child observing a curious scene.


    ¡°Yes¡­ very,¡± Mia replied, her voice unsteady.


    ¡°I see,¡± Baal mused, as if deciding on something trivial. ¡°Well, since I¡¯m in a good mood, and you¡¯ve been so kind to feed me¡­ I suppose I can heal them. But first, my meal.¡±


    Mia¡¯s heart sank as she watched Baal stretch his arm forward. His hand morphed, shifting grotesquely until a gaping mouth formed in the center of his palm. The corpses of the fallen agents began to float in the air, drawn toward the void-like mouth as it opened wide. With a sickening pull, the bodies were swallowed whole, disappearing into the abyss that was Baal''s hunger.


    Mia looked away, unable to stomach the sight.


    Once Baal had devoured the corpses, he snapped his fingers, and the air shimmered with a strange green light. Particles, glowing like soft embers, rained down from the sky. Slowly, the wounds on her students¡¯ bodies began to knit themselves together. Bones reset and bruises faded. Though they remained unconscious, their injuries were completely healed.


    ¡°There you go,¡± Baal said, dusting his hands off as if he had done nothing more than a minor favor. ¡°They¡¯ll wake up soon enough, good as new.¡±


    Mia, still kneeling beside her students, looked up at Baal with a mix of gratitude and fear. ¡°Who¡­ what is he? And what did his revival mean for their world?¡±


    Baal stretched, his long, gangly limbs cracking like ancient bones being disturbed after centuries. His casual air, almost nonchalant in its cruelty, sent a chill down Mia¡¯s spine. ¡°Now, what to do next?¡± he mused aloud, his tone teetering between a childlike sing-song and something darker, more predatory. ¡°There are a lot of powerful individuals here. But, to be honest, after that meal, I¡¯m feeling rather tired. Besides¡­¡± He glanced down at Mia, his missing eyes somehow focusing on her, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go anywhere without you. And you¡¯re clearly attached to your little students, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Baal¡¯s tone was unsettling, like he was humoring her, a predator playing with its prey. Mia¡¯s stomach churned. She had no idea what this demon truly wanted or how much longer she could endure his presence. But for now, she was powerless to resist.


    ¡°I¡¯ll assist you in bringing them somewhere safe,¡± Baal continued, his voice oddly cheerful, as if they were discussing a mundane task, ¡°then, I think I¡¯ll take a nice, long nap.¡±


    With a snap of his fingers, the air shimmered with a surreal energy. Slowly, the unconscious bodies of Mia¡¯s students began to lift off the ground, suspended in the air like rag dolls caught in an invisible tide. Mia, too, felt herself rise, weightless and powerless. Her body drifted towards Baal, who opened his arms in mock tenderness. She landed gently, her form collapsing into his grasp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want anything bad to happen to you,¡± Baal said, his voice a mockery of kindness as he cradled her, his smile too wide, too knowing. ¡°So I¡¯ll protect you.¡±


    Mia felt a tremor of disgust ripple through her body. Her mind screamed at her to resist, but she was too exhausted, too drained from everything that had happened. Was she really supposed to trust this¡­ thing? His power was terrifying, limitless compared to hers. She swallowed hard, gathering whatever courage remained in her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know where you¡¯re going,¡± Mia muttered, her voice hoarse, the last remnants of her defiance flickering. ¡°Just set me down. I¡¯ll lead the way.¡±


    For a moment, Baal stared at her, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated disappointment, as if a child had been denied a treat. ¡°Oh, fine,¡± he sighed, sounding almost sad. He gently set her down, releasing her from his hold, though Mia could still feel his presence looming over her like a shadow.


    Baal followed her with a mock regal air, his gaze sweeping over the facility as if it was some trivial amusement park. Mia, now on her feet but still shaky, led the way, her mind racing. She needed to find the others, and fast. Every second spent with Baal felt like walking on the edge of a razor blade.


    As they moved through the cold, dimly lit corridors, the silence between them was unbearable. Baal¡¯s humming, a soft, eerie melody, filled the void, setting her teeth on edge. The unconscious students hovered behind them, trailing in a grotesque parade of stillness.


    After what felt like an eternity, they turned a corner, and relief washed over Mia like a wave. Ahead of them was Wallace, his ever-diligent expression clouded with concern, flanked by Iris and Charles. The sight of them felt like a lifeline. Wallace¡¯s eyes widened as he took in the scene, the floating students, Mia¡¯s exhausted form, and Baal, standing tall and ominous behind her.


    ¡°Charles, Iris, I¡¯m so glad you too are alright, when all this chaos happened, I was worried something happened to you,¡± Mia said, her eyes filled with joy.


    ¡°Mia, what happened?¡± Wallace¡¯s voice was firm, though there was an undercurrent of unease. His gaze flicked to Baal, instinctively assessing the threat, his body tense.


    Mia opened her mouth to respond, but Baal cut her off with a cheerful wave. ¡°Hello, hello!¡± he called out, his voice as light and carefree as ever, as though he were greeting old friends at a party. ¡°No need to be alarmed. I¡¯m just here to help, after all.¡± His grin widened as he took in their confusion and fear, clearly enjoying himself. ¡°Your friend here,¡± he continued, motioning to Mia, ¡°was in a bit of a bind. I¡¯ve taken the liberty of helping her and her dear students out of a¡­ tricky situation.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s sharp gaze narrowed, his protective instincts kicking in as he stepped forward. ¡°Who are you?¡± he demanded, his tone low and dangerous. There was an edge to his voice, a readiness to act, that was unmistakable. His eyes flicked between Mia and the towering figure beside her, assessing the threat that had seemingly come out of nowhere.


    Baal¡¯s grin didn¡¯t waver for a moment. In fact, it widened, as though he relished the tension in the air. With a theatrical flair, he gave a mock bow, one hand sweeping to the side as if addressing a court of jesters. ¡°Baal Zebub,¡± he announced with amusement dripping from every syllable. ¡°Second Monarch of the Abyss. Gluttonous Monarch, if you prefer. But please, no need for formalities.¡± He straightened, and then his smile grew even more unsettling. ¡°I only wish to protect my new bride.¡±


    The room fell into a stunned silence. Out of all the unsettling things Baal had said, that word, bride, was the one that froze them all. Wallace, Iris, Charles, even Mia, couldn¡¯t help but react in disbelief.


    ¡°Bride?¡± they all echoed, their voices overlapping in a unified chorus of bewilderment.


    Baal turned to Mia, his tone light and nonchalant, as though they were discussing the weather. ¡°Yes, of course! I¡¯ve decided to make you my bride. So,¡± he tilted his head, smiling sweetly, ¡°won¡¯t you please marry me?¡±


    Mia blinked, utterly speechless for a moment. She opened her mouth, searching for words, before finally sputtering, ¡°We¡¯ve only known each other for at most half an hour! We can¡¯t just get married!¡±


    Wallace, clearly drained from the day''s overwhelming chaos, ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. ¡°So much is happening today,¡± he muttered, his exhaustion palpable. ¡°Listen, the whole facility is a mess, I almost got poisoned, and now we have a Monarch proposing marriage. Let¡¯s just focus on surviving, alright?¡± His tired eyes conveyed how done he was with the absurdity of the situation.


    Mia nodded, grateful for the distraction. ¡°We were thinking of heading to the Bookkeeper¡¯s library after we found you,¡± she suggested, her voice steadying.


    Wallace raised a brow. ¡°The Bookkeeper? He might let us in, especially after today. He even took down a member of Noir.¡± His words were tinged with respect, though the fatigue in his voice lingered.


    ¡°That¡¯s unlike him,¡± Mia replied, her tone thoughtful. ¡°The Bookkeeper rarely takes action. I also killed one of the Noir members. Baal handled the other.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right!¡± Baal interjected with a disturbing cheerfulness. ¡°I ripped her head off.¡±


    Wallace winced slightly, his eyes flicking to the unconscious students nearby. ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s nice, Baal. Just don¡¯t get too graphic in front of the kids. Anyway¡ª¡± He turned, raising his voice to address the unseen presence he knew was always watching. ¡°Hey, Bookkeeper, I know you¡¯re listening. Let us into your library.¡±


    As Wallace strode toward a nearby door, he reached for the handle. The door creaked open, but what lay beyond wasn¡¯t the usual corridor. Instead, an expansive library stretched out before them, filled with towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch on forever. A grand hall of knowledge, silent and still, yet radiating a subtle power that permeated the air.


    And there, seated comfortably in an ornate chair, was the Bookkeeper. His small, sharp eyes glinted with amusement, as if he had been anticipating their arrival. His lips curled into a knowing smile, fingers steepled together as he watched them with interest.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± the Bookkeeper said, his voice smooth and inviting, ¡°it seems you''ve had quite the eventful day.¡±

 Chapter 28-Codename: Butcherer

    As the blaring announcement echoed through the facility, warning of the chaos unfolding outside, Frank sat in his dimly lit room, entirely unfazed by the turmoil. The soft clinking of his teacup against its saucer was the only sound in the otherwise silent space. He leisurely sipped his tea, the fragrant steam rising in lazy swirls, as if the world beyond his door wasn¡¯t crumbling into madness.


    Bjorn Jr., his loyal companion, lay sprawled across the bed, ears perked up at the sound of the alarms but showing no signs of agitation. Frank glanced at the dog with an amused smirk playing on his lips, his expression one of complete disinterest in the carnage happening just a few floors away.


    ¡°What a nuisance,¡± Frank muttered, his voice laced with disdain. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, as though listening to the distant chaos was beneath him. ¡°All this noise¡­ it''s giving me a headache.¡± He stretched lazily, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator that had yet to decide whether the hunt was worth its energy. ¡°Should I just go ahead and kill the intruders? Seems like such a bother, though,¡± he mused aloud, his tone almost bored. ¡°I''d rather not put in any effort if I don¡¯t have to.¡±


    He leaned back in his chair, casually lifting his teacup to his lips for another sip. His eyes glinted with a dangerous amusement as he turned to his companion. Bjorn Jr., ever faithful, looked up at Frank with a joyful, almost eager expression, tail wagging slightly at the prospect of action.


    Frank¡¯s smirk deepened, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the cup. ¡°Bjorn Jr., are you hungry?¡± he asked, his voice smooth and almost playful, though laced with a subtle edge. ¡°I believe there''s a delicious meal out there waiting for us. Come on, we could both use the exercise.¡±


    He stood up from his chair, his movements graceful and relaxed, as if the chaos outside was nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him. His smile widened as he glanced toward the door. With that, Frank gave a light stretch and patted Bjorn Jr. on the head, his mind already shifting to the inevitable slaughter that awaited.


    As Frank stepped out of his room, a strange sight greeted him¡ªrows of A.E.G.I.S agents standing eerily still, their weapons raised and pointed directly at him. The hallway, once a place of order and routine, now felt oppressive, as if the very air had thickened with the tension. The agents, clad in their standard black tactical uniforms, were familiar faces. Frank recognized every single one of them. These were the same men who would often harass him, and attack him for sport, looking down on Frank at all times.


    But something was off.


    Their eyes, once filled with smug superiority, were now bloodshot and lifeless, as if they were no longer in control of their bodies. Their gazes were unfocused, devoid of any recognition or humanity. It was as if they had been hollowed out, their souls stolen, leaving behind empty shells. Their movements were stiff, mechanical, and forced, like puppets on invisible strings, the faint tremble in their limbs betraying the strain of their unnatural state.


    Frank''s lips curled into a bemused smile, his eyes narrowing with predatory interest. ¡°Well, this is unexpected,¡± he muttered to himself, casually rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a light workout.


    Behind the lifeless agents, two figures stood out, their presence commanding and ominous. Frank¡¯s sharp gaze immediately locked onto them. The first was a woman draped in a flowing black dress that sparkled like a starlit sky. The dress seemed to ripple with an otherworldly grace as she moved, its shimmering fabric catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. Her wings, once black but now painted white, were a stark and eerie contrast to her otherwise dark attire. The halo perched atop her head was wired to a headband. Her long, blonde hair framed a face marked by piercing green eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a mixture of cold calculation and unsettling calmness.


    Next to her was a cloaked figure whose maroon cloak swirled ominously with each step. The cloak was a deep, rich color, almost as if it absorbed the surrounding light, creating an aura of secrecy. Their face was hidden behind a smiley face mask, which seemed to mock the very gravity of the situation. Beneath the cloak, a sleek black ensemble clung to their form, with various knives strapped to their belt. Each blade glinted with a deadly promise, ready to be drawn at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Frank¡¯s smirk only deepened as he faced the two figures, utterly unbothered by the sight of a dozen weapons trained on him. He could feel it¡ªthe weight of the unseen force behind the soldiers, an invisible hand tugging at their wills, bending them into submission. Their glazed eyes and rigid movements confirmed it: they were nothing more than puppets now.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the deal?¡± Frank asked, his voice laced with curiosity, not fear. ¡°I¡¯ve seen hypnosis abilities before, but never one that worked this well¡ªeven over non-Awakened.¡±


    The hooded woman tilted her head slightly, the faintest glimmer of amusement behind her mask. ¡°Since you¡¯re going to die anyway, I suppose I¡¯ll indulge you,¡± she replied, her voice smooth, almost too calm for the chaos she orchestrated. ¡°I amplify certain emotions. Hatred, fear, despair. It¡¯s always easiest when the victims already harbor strong feelings.¡± She motioned lazily to the agents. ¡°And these fine gentlemen¡­ they have quite the hatred for you, Frank. That made this much easier.¡±


    Frank¡¯s eyes flickered with amusement, even as the revelation set in. ¡°Ah, that makes sense. I''ve never been popular with these bastards,¡± he mused, letting out a low chuckle. ¡°Alright, fair enough. But before we start tearing each other apart, may I at least have your codenames? It¡¯s only polite.¡±


    The woman in the dress didn¡¯t miss a beat, her lips curling into a small, disdainful smile. ¡°No, you may not,¡± she said coldly, snapping her fingers.


    As she snapped her fingers, the hooded woman activated her ability as the puppet agents sprang into action, their movements robotic yet precise. In unison, they raised their weapons, the muzzles of their guns aimed squarely at Frank. And then, without hesitation, they opened fire.


    The hallway was instantly filled with the deafening sound of gunfire. Bullets tore through the air, ripping into Frank¡¯s body with brutal efficiency. His clothes were shredded, flesh torn, and crimson blood sprayed in every direction as he was riddled with holes. Yet, through it all, Frank didn¡¯t flinch. His expression never changed. His smile only widened, even as the bullets ripped through him.


    Bjorn Jr. sat obediently by his side, watching the scene unfold with an eerie calm, as though the bloody spectacle was nothing more than a passing curiosity.


    Frank¡¯s body was a grotesque canvas of carnage. His limbs hung limp, his torso shredded by the barrage of bullets, yet he remained standing, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. Then, slowly, impossibly, his flesh began to stitch itself back together. The gaping wounds on his body closed before their eyes, the bullets pushing themselves out as if his body was rejecting death itself. The holes in his flesh sealed over until there was no trace of the damage.


    He rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, the faint sound of bones cracking into place. ¡°I¡¯d say that was a nice try, but¡­ well, I¡¯d be lying.¡± His vicious smile returned, even sharper now, as though the brief act of destruction had only emboldened him. ¡°Guess I should introduce myself now, huh?¡±


    Frank¡¯s gaze sharpened, his eyes gleaming with a dark, dangerous anticipation as he locked onto the two figures before him. A twisted smirk played at the corners of his lips, as if he were savoring the moment. ¡°Codename: Butcherer,¡± he began, his voice low and menacing. ¡°I¡¯m sure you two have heard the stories. You know why that name sticks. Now, out of courtesy, I¡¯d like yours. After all, once I¡¯m done, your corpses won¡¯t be recognizable. I¡¯ll need something to remember you by.¡±


    The hooded woman let out a soft, mocking laugh. Her voice was laced with cold amusement as she stepped forward. ¡°If you really must know,¡± she began, tilting her head in a gesture of false politeness, ¡°my codename is Hypnotist. Butcherer or not, I promise you, when this is over, you¡¯ll be the unrecognizable corpse.¡±


    Frank¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, more feral. But before he could respond, the woman in the elegant dress stepped up beside Hypnotist, her expression serene, disturbingly calm. ¡°Exactly,¡± she said softly, her voice like silk hiding a blade. ¡°We know all about you, Frank. The stories, the rumors. That nail in your head¡­¡± Her eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. ¡°It¡¯s your leash, isn¡¯t it? It limits your emotions, and makes you incapable of feeling anything besides peace and joy. More importantly,¡± her smile widened, ¡°it stops you from hurting anyone.¡±


    Frank¡¯s grin wavered slightly, a flicker of something dark flashing across his face as she continued.


    ¡°My codename is Angel,¡± she said, her tone dripping with a twisted form of righteousness. ¡°And I¡¯ll be the one to kill you today. You won¡¯t even be able to fight back. Not with that nail in place.¡±


    Angel lunged toward Frank with terrifying speed, her fingers shifting into razor-sharp talons that pierced deep into his chest. With a savage twist, she gripped his heart, crushing it between her claws. Blood poured from the wound, but Frank¡¯s expression remained unsettlingly calm, even as his heart shattered inside his body.


    ¡°I hate you,¡± Angel hissed through clenched teeth, her voice thick with rage. ¡°You bastards turned me into a monster. I wish¡ªI wish I could take back my childhood from you horrid freaks, but killing you will have to do.¡±


    Frank, still wearing that unnerving smile, met her gaze as if they were exchanging pleasantries. His tone, warm and unnervingly gentle, only served to heighten her anger. ¡°You truly hate them, don¡¯t you? For what they took from you.¡± His eyes scanned her with an unsettling curiosity. ¡°Despite all the makeup you¡¯ve caked on, I can see the scar around your mouth. Between that and the paint smeared across your wings to make yourself look angelic¡­ let me guess, you were fused with a raven, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    Angel froze, her expression faltering as his words cut deeper than any wound. Her breathing hitched as he continued, his voice soft but cutting. ¡°You surgically removed the beak. Did all this just to feel like an angel, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Why¡­ won¡¯t¡­ you¡­ just¡­ die!¡± Angel¡¯s voice cracked, her frustration palpable. She raked her free hand¡¯s talon across his face, tearing his skin open in vicious swipes, yet every wound she inflicted closed instantly, as if mocking her efforts.


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    Frank¡¯s smile never wavered, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. ¡°Would you like to know a secret?¡± he whispered, his voice carrying an eerie calm. ¡°I hate them too.¡± His eyes darkened, his tone becoming more intimate, as if he were sharing a confession with an old friend. ¡°They stole something from me¡­ someone more precious than your childhood ever was. Someone irreplaceable.¡± His voice turned sharp, deadly. ¡°That¡¯s why I can¡¯t let you interfere with my plans. You see, I won¡¯t let anyone but me be the one to massacre every agent here.¡±


    A flicker of terror flashed across Angel''s face as an agonizing, white-hot pain tore through her arm, searing her nerves like fire. Her breath hitched, heart pounded in her chest. When her gaze dropped, her blood ran cold¡ªa scream ripped from her throat as the horrifying reality hit her. Her arm, once an extension of her power, was simply gone, devoured as if it had never existed.


    Frank lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing something horrific. A grotesque, grinning mouth was embedded in his side, its razor-like teeth chomping down on what remained of her arm. The mouth seemed to stretch, its lips curling into a sadistic smile as it devoured her flesh, blood staining its grotesque form.


    Angel¡¯s terror grew as her body convulsed, her remaining strength slipping away with every agonizing second. Her eyes darted to the dismembered arm in the grotesque maw of Frank''s flesh, watching helplessly as the mouth gnawed at it, reducing it to a mangled mess of torn muscle and bone. The sheer horror of it all made her head spin. Frank, unbothered by the gruesome scene, gazed down at her, his serene, ever-present smile painted across his face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you this much,¡± he said softly, like he was offering a gentle compliment rather than savoring her despair. ¡°Your little sob story¡ªtruly, it touched my heart.¡±


    Angel¡¯s chest heaved as her breathing quickened, her fury now crushed beneath the weight of sheer terror. Frank¡¯s calm, almost affectionate tone only deepened her dread. The monster she thought she understood had become something far more terrifying.


    ¡°How¡­ how is this possible? That nail in your head should¡¯ve made it impossible for you to harm anyone!¡± she stammered, her voice barely holding back the panic threatening to consume her.


    Frank chuckled lightly, as if amused by her naivety. ¡°Oh? This little thing?¡± He tapped the nail embedded in his head, his grin widening. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s just for show. I figured out how to remove it a week after they stuck it in me. I¡¯ve been playing my part ever since. You really thought it was that easy to control me?¡±


    Angel¡¯s heart sank as Hypnotist, desperation gripping her, ordered the mind-controlled agents to open fire again. The gunfire roared, bullets tearing through Frank¡¯s flesh, but it did nothing. He stood there, unflinching, the wounds knitting back together almost instantly. The pain didn¡¯t even register on his face.


    Frank sighed, rubbing his temples like someone dealing with a minor inconvenience. ¡°Could you stop already? This gunfire is really making my headache worse.¡±


    Angel, her eyes wide with fear, backed away slowly. Every instinct in her screamed to run, but her body felt paralyzed, rooted in place by the overwhelming presence of the monster she¡¯d dared to challenge.


    Frank¡¯s steps were slow and deliberate as he approached Angel, who had collapsed to the floor, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion. Her tear-filled eyes stared up at him, her defiance shattered. He crouched down, making sure to be at eye level, his serene smile never wavering.


    ¡°Are you afraid?¡± he asked, his voice a haunting whisper. His words slithered through the air like a predator toying with its prey. ¡°Are you afraid of me?¡±


    Angel¡¯s lips quivered as she struggled to speak, her voice a broken whisper. ¡°Why? Why are you doing this? You hate A.E.G.I.S. as much as we do. Join us¡­we can destroy them together.¡±


    Frank chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving hers. ¡°It¡¯s simple, really,¡± he began, his voice carrying a tone of eerie calmness, as if they were discussing something trivial. ¡°The majority of your organization is made up of the same filth that once belonged to A.E.G.I.S. The past and present must be purged alike. I sympathize with your story, Angel, truly I do¡­but here¡¯s the thing¡ª¡± He leaned in closer, his smile widening just a fraction. ¡°I simply don¡¯t care.¡±


    For a moment, something primal ignited in Angel. Her fear gave way to raw desperation as she pushed herself off the ground, her claws slashing wildly at Frank¡¯s face. But he barely even registered her attack. With a casual motion, he sidestepped to the left, his eyes betraying no hint of concern, as if swatting away an insect.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± Frank murmured, his tone soft but laced with cold contempt.


    In one fluid movement, his arm morphed into a grotesque, writhing tendril. With an almost lazy flick, it shot forward, piercing through Angel¡¯s leg like a spear. Her scream tore through the air, filled with agony as she crumpled to the ground once more, clutching at the wound that oozed blood.


    Frank stood over Angel, his cold, detached gaze locked on her as she writhed in agony. The tendril that had pierced her leg retracted back into his arm, leaving her broken on the ground. Tears mixed with dirt on her face, and her breathing came in ragged gasps. The fierce resolve that once lit her eyes had faded, replaced by helpless terror.


    Angel whimpered as she began to crawl, blood trailing behind her. Her severed arm lay forgotten, and the wound on her leg made every movement torturous. She glanced toward her companion, Hypnotist, who stood frozen, wide-eyed, paralyzed by the sight of Frank¡¯s unyielding power.


    Frank¡¯s gaze shifted lazily toward Hypnotist. ¡°Please,¡± he said, his voice disturbingly calm, ¡°wait your turn. Once I''m done with Angel, I¡¯ll kill you next.¡±


    Angel¡¯s body shook, her strength draining with every inch she dragged herself away. Her vision blurred as she lifted her head and saw Bjorn Jr., sitting silently a few feet away. The dog¡¯s eyes were soft, watching her without a hint of malice, an innocent gaze from a creature that understood nothing of the violence unfolding around him.


    ¡°Angel,¡± Frank¡¯s voice broke the tense silence, his tone almost conversational. ¡°Have you ever seen the movie The Thing? It¡¯s a classic. You¡¯d appreciate it¡­though I doubt you''ll understand the reference now.¡±


    Angel¡¯s heart raced, her mind spinning with fear and confusion. ¡°W-what? What are you talking about?¡± she stammered, her voice quivering.


    Frank smiled, but the warmth in it was deceptive, chilling to the core. ¡°Bjorn Jr.,¡± he said with eerie nonchalance, ¡°enjoy your meal.¡±


    As Angel lay on the ground, her body trembling and drenched in sweat, Bjorn Jr. began to change. The small, seemingly harmless dog began to grow, his body expanding grotesquely until it towered over her. His soft eyes remained the same, but his mouth opened unnaturally wide, revealing not teeth or a throat, but an inky, swirling void, an abyss that seemed to stretch endlessly into nothingness.


    Suddenly, eldritch tentacles¡ªtwisting and slimy, like the limbs of some ancient, unseen horror¡ªemerged from the void, slithering out like predators scenting blood.


    ¡°No¡­ no, please stop¡­ stop!¡± Angel¡¯s voice was raw with terror as she tried to crawl away, her broken body barely able to move. But the tendrils were faster. One coiled tightly around her ankle, yanking her back toward the monstrosity. She screamed in agony, her claws piercing at the ground, her claws began to rip off as she desperately tried to pull and stop herself from being dragged away.


    Another tentacle wrapped around her waist, then another around her throat, squeezing tighter with each passing second. Her voice grew hoarse, her screams turning into choked gasps as she thrashed wildly, eyes wide with the primal fear of death. Every inch of her body was shaking, her muscles burning from the futile struggle. Blood smeared across the floor, as the tentacles dragged her closer to the void, that inky abyss seeming to grow larger, more insidious, with each passing second.


    ¡°No! Please! I don''t want to die like this!¡± she sobbed, her voice breaking as tears mixed with the blood on her face. Her once-pristine black dress was now torn, soaked in sweat, and crimson. But no amount of pleading would stop the inevitable.


    The tentacles pulled her legs into the gaping maw, and she could feel the cold, crushing emptiness of the void swallowing her feet, then her calves. Panic consumed her, her hands frantically grasping for anything to hold on to, her fingers slipping through the blood-soaked ground as the eldritch limbs pulled her deeper into the void¡¯s inescapable pull. She felt her bones begin to crack under the pressure of the tendrils'' grip, and her mind raced with despair.


    ¡°No! No! Help me! I¡ªI can¡¯t¡ª¡± Her voice cut off in a strangled cry as the tentacles tightened around her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She was now waist-deep in the abyss, her body slowly sinking, as if the world itself was swallowing her whole.


    Frank stood by, watching with that same calm, pleasant smile. His eyes flicked to hers one last time as her head dipped below the surface of the void. There was no remorse, no flicker of mercy. Just cold amusement.


    The tentacles wrapped around her neck, and the last thing Angel saw was the infinite blackness consuming her. A single, hoarse whisper escaped her lips, an unfinished plea, lost forever in the endless void. The eldritch tendrils finally enveloped her entirely, dragging her deeper into that eternal darkness, her body disappearing as if she had never existed.


    When the last trace of her was gone, Bjorn Jr. returned to his original size, shrinking down to the small, harmless dog he had been moments before. His tail wagged happily, his mouth now closed, as he sat at Frank¡¯s feet, staring blankly into the distance with that same thoughtless, innocent expression.


    Frank''s serene expression never faltered as he looked down at Bjorn Jr., still scratching behind the dog¡¯s ear. ¡°Good boy,¡± he repeated softly, as if everything that had just transpired was no more troubling than a routine walk in the park.


    Hypnotist¡¯s breath hitched in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to maintain her control over the remaining A.E.G.I.S agents, but the sheer terror of what she had just witnessed made her concentration slip. The agents, once mechanical in their movements and dead-eyed with hatred, began to blink, slowly returning to their senses. Confusion spread through their ranks as they looked around, unsure of why they had their weapons drawn, or why the smell of charred flesh lingered in the air. The fog over their minds cleared, but the dread only deepened.


    Frank moved with unnerving calm, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached one of the agents still shaking off the hypnotic control. Before the man could fully comprehend what was happening, Frank¡¯s hand shot out, seizing him by the throat with a vice-like grip. His fingers dug in, almost gently, as if savoring the moment before unleashing the full extent of his power. A spark of electricity crackled at his fingertips, and in an instant, the agent¡¯s body convulsed violently.


    The smell of burning flesh filled the room as the man''s skin sizzled, his eyes rolling back into his head. His muscles locked in place, twitching as the raw current coursed through him. The soft crackle of electricity hummed through the silence, until the agent¡¯s body went limp, lifeless. Smoke curled from his mouth as Frank released his grip, letting the fried corpse fall to the floor in a lifeless heap.


    The remaining agents froze in horror, they remembered who they were facing, and it dawned on them all at once. Whispers, desperate and panicked, spread through the ranks. They had thought he couldn''t fight back due to the nail. The days of him being the Awakened criminal whose name sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened agents were over. A single report flashed in their minds: Codename: Butcherer.


    It was as if time had slowed for them, each of them recalling the detailed description from A.E.G.I.S¡¯s classified files, the man responsible for a massacre that had claimed the lives of fifty Awakened members. It had occurred only weeks after the catastrophic Invidia raid. A one-sided slaughter that only ended when the leader of A.E.G.I.S had stepped in. And now, he was here, standing before them, with the same cold, emotionless smile.


    Frank looked over to Bjorn Jr. as he calmly said, ¡°I know you don¡¯t care for smoked meat, Bjorn Jr.,¡± he murmured, his eyes gleaming with malice as they flickered back to the corpse. ¡°But I want them to suffer.¡±

 Chapter 29-Slaughter

    The hallway crackled with the raw energy of a violent storm, thunder rumbling deep within the walls as flashes of lightning illuminated the twisted scene. It was as if nature itself had been summoned to mirror the chaos Frank was about to unleash. His once ever-present smile began to slip, replaced by a darker, more sinister expression, betraying the calm facade he''d worn for so long. The mask was crumbling, revealing the true monster beneath¡ªa predator who had hidden in plain sight, now freed from the burden of pretense.


    Frank''s eyes glimmered with cold amusement as he observed the trembling agents before him, their faces pale with terror. His voice, though soft, carried an eerie finality. "What a shame," he muttered, his gaze sweeping over the horrified men and women who had once been his tormentors. "It seems I can''t free you from the hypnosis... Guess I¡¯ll have to put you out of your misery.¡±


    He knew full well they were no longer under Hypnotist¡¯s control, their sudden awareness of the danger sinking in too late. But that didn''t matter. Frank had no intention of sparing them, regardless of their newfound clarity. He reveled in their fear, knowing he could kill without consequence for the first time in years.


    Electricity crackled around him as he took a deliberate step forward, his eyes glowing with the anticipation of bloodshed. His power surged, filling the air with the scent of ozone and charred flesh, as his victims helplessly awaited the inevitable slaughter.


    Frank''s eyes glimmered with a deadly intent as sparks crackled around his body. Thunder rumbled in sync with his growing rage, and arcs of electricity danced across the hallway like serpents hunting their prey. The air became thick with tension as Frank raised his hand, summoning a storm that seemed alive with malice.


    The first crack of lightning struck with terrifying precision, piercing through one of the A.E.G.I.S members, their body convulsing violently as electricity surged through them. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, mixing with the ozone from the lightning. Before anyone could react, another bolt flashed, this time arcing between three agents, their screams cut short as their bodies were reduced to charred husks.


    Frank moved like a conductor orchestrating a deadly symphony. With a wave of his hand, jagged bolts of electricity tore through the air, ripping into the agents. Their armor was useless against the sheer force of the storm he had conjured. One by one, they fell, their bodies writhing and twitching as the electricity consumed them.


    He casually snapped his fingers, and a series of smaller, precise strikes hit the majority of the remaining agents, targeting their hearts and heads, ending their lives in an instant. The storm inside the hallway intensified for a brief moment, then faded as the last of the A.E.G.I.S members collapsed, smoke rising from their lifeless forms.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± Frank muttered under his breath, his voice a chilling whisper amidst the chaos. His eyes, cold and calculating, surveyed the aftermath of the devastation with an unsettling calm. Scattered around him, a handful of surviving agents struggled to regroup, their faces etched with fear and desperation. Among them, Reid, a seasoned Awakened in his fifties, whose eyes reflected the stark reality of their dire situation, led the remnants of the group.


    Caught in a three-way standoff between Frank and Hypnotist, the agents were painfully aware of the overwhelming threat Frank posed. Many of them had once relished in inflicting harassment and targeting Frank, their previous cruelty now turned against them. As they huddled together, the grim realization set in, Frank was the true danger they faced.


    As the last remaining agents gathered around Reid, Hypnotist, with her hood now partially torn away, desperately tried to reassert control. Her eyes, once sharp and unyielding, were now clouded with strain as she tried to combat the backlash of her own power, which had been disrupted by Frank''s relentless assault.


    With a wave of her hand, Hypnotist¡¯s influence surged once more, her powers struggling to reassert control over the disoriented agents. The surviving agents¡¯ eyes flickered between clarity and confusion as they hesitated, caught between their instincts and Hypnotist''s faltering commands.


    Reid, fully aware of the shifting dynamics, faced Frank with grim resolve. His body tensed, ready for the confrontation. The older agent¡¯s ability would be crucial in this fight. He had seen Frank¡¯s brutality firsthand and knew that any lapse in defense could be fatal.


    Frank¡¯s expression remained a mask of cold indifference as he locked eyes with Reid. With a sudden, fluid motion, he summoned a crackling bolt of electricity that arced through the air, heading straight for Reid. The blast surged with violent energy, but Reid¡¯s ability flared to life. He braced himself, his aura flaring as he negated the impact of the attack, the lightning dispersing harmlessly around him.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± Reid growled, his voice carrying the weight of his experience. He thrust his hand forward, sending a concentrated burst of air toward Frank, aiming to exploit any potential weakness.


    Frank sidestepped the attack with effortless agility, his smile unwavering. ¡°You think you can challenge me with your tricks?¡± he taunted. His eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he prepared another strike, the air around him crackling with volatile energy.


    As Frank¡¯s electrical energy crackled dangerously, Reid¡¯s focus was intense, his every move calculated to counter Frank¡¯s attacks. The two clashed in a series of rapid exchanges, Frank¡¯s relentless barrage of lightning meeting Reid¡¯s expertly managed defenses. Reid¡¯s ability allowed him to shift the force of Frank¡¯s attacks, either absorbing the energy or redirecting it, making it difficult for Frank to land a decisive blow.


    Hypnotist, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain control over the wavering agents. Their confusion grew as her power flickered, and she was forced to exert more effort to keep them in check. With each failed attempt to regain full control, her frustration mounted, adding to the chaos of the scene.


    Reid¡¯s determination was unwavering as he deflected another powerful surge of electricity from Frank, his aura shimmering with the strain of maintaining his defensive abilities. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to do better than that,¡± Reid challenged, his voice steady despite the immense pressure.


    Frank''s patience was wearing thin. The battle had dragged on longer than he anticipated, and the persistent annoyance of Reid''s defenses was testing his composure. The agents, caught in the turmoil of Hypnotist¡¯s faltering control and Frank¡¯s relentless assault, were now mere spectators to the climax of this brutal showdown.


    Reid, battered and weary, struggled to keep up with Frank¡¯s relentless assault. His attempts to deflect the lightning strikes were becoming increasingly desperate, and sweat dripped from his brow as he tried to maintain his balance. The force of Frank¡¯s attacks was unyielding, and Reid''s aura was beginning to falter under the pressure.


    Frank¡¯s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, irritation evident in his cold expression. He was done with games. With a low growl, he dismissed the storm of electricity, his focus shifting to a more direct approach. His body shifted, and a sinister grin spread across his face as he extended his arm.


    The air around Frank seemed to warp as his arm began to elongate and transform, morphing into a massive, gaping maw with rows of jagged teeth. The monstrous mouth snarled and writhed, dripping with a dark, viscous substance that hissed and sizzled with energy.


    Reid''s eyes widened in shock as he saw the horrifying transformation. He tried to brace himself, but the sheer scale and force of the mouth made it impossible to evade. Frank closed the distance in a heartbeat, his mouth-arm snapping open with terrifying speed.


    The maw lunged toward Reid, engulfing him in a horrifying display of power. The teeth closed around him with a sickening crunch, and the crushing force of the mouth was overwhelming. Reid¡¯s scream was swallowed by the maw, his body crushed with a brutal finality.


    The sound of bones snapping and the squelching of flesh echoed through the hallway. Frank''s arm retracted, the monstrous mouth now slick with dark, viscous blood. He looked down at the remnants with an air of detached satisfaction, the fight having ended in a gruesome display of raw power.


    Hypnotist, witnessing the brutal end, staggered back, her face pale with horror and disbelief. The surrounding agents, now free from the hypnosis but still reeling from the chaos, watched in stunned silence.


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    Frank wiped his hand clean, his expression returning to its usual calm demeanor. He glanced around at the scene of devastation with a cold, indifferent gaze, his patience finally exhausted. ¡°Pathetic,¡± he muttered under his breath again, his voice laced with disdain.


    The hallway echoed with the hollow sound of dripping blood, bodies crumpled and lifeless, while the few remaining A.E.G.I.S agents stood frozen in horror, trapped between the ruins of their comrades and the monster that loomed before them. Frank stood in the center of the carnage, his calm expression betraying none of the brutality he was about to unleash. His arm, slick with Reid¡¯s blood, twitched, and then began to shift, his flesh rippling and contorting into grotesque, nightmarish shapes.


    "Now¡­ where were we?" Frank''s voice was soft, almost casual, as if the slaughter he had just committed was no more than an afterthought.


    One agent, trembling, fired a round of bullets at him, but Frank didn¡¯t flinch. The bullets ripped through his flesh, but his wounds healed instantly, leaving nothing behind but faint traces of blood. With a slow, deliberate motion, Frank extended his arm once more, the flesh twisting and turning into a nightmarish tendril. The tendril lashed out like a whip, cutting through the air with a sickening hiss. It wrapped around the first agent¡¯s body, coiling tightly like a serpent before it constricted.


    With a sharp, violent tug, the tendril tore the agent in half. Blood sprayed across the walls, coating the once sterile hallway in a thick, crimson mist. The agent¡¯s screams were short, ending abruptly as their body split cleanly in two, their lower half collapsing in a heap of gore while their upper half was tossed aside like discarded meat.


    Another agent, desperate to flee, stumbled backward, but Frank¡¯s other arm had already begun to morph. This time, it wasn¡¯t a tendril. Instead, it became a massive, gaping maw, lined with rows of jagged teeth dripping with saliva and blood. The monstrous mouth lunged forward, catching the retreating agent in its jaws. With a sickening crunch, Frank''s mouth-arm bit down, tearing the agent apart at the waist. The sounds of bones cracking and flesh ripping filled the air, followed by a wet, meaty thud as the lifeless torso was spat out onto the floor, leaving behind a pool of viscera.


    The remaining agents barely had time to react. Frank¡¯s other arm, not content with one form of brutality, elongated into a series of writhing tendrils, each tipped with sharp, blade-like edges. They lashed out like deadly whips, slicing through the agents with lethal precision. One agent¡¯s head flew from their shoulders in an arc of blood, their body crumpling before they could even register what had happened. Another was impaled through the chest, lifted off the ground by the tendril before being flung against the wall with bone-shattering force. Their body collapsed in a heap, leaving a smear of blood down the wall as they slumped to the floor.


    The final agent stood paralyzed, too horrified to move. Frank, his face calm and serene, walked slowly toward them, his steps deliberate. As he reached them, his arm transformed once more into that nightmarish maw. The agent''s wide eyes reflected the terror of what was coming, but they could do nothing to stop it. Frank grabbed them by the throat and lifted them into the air. The maw stretched open impossibly wide, and with one final, horrific crunch, it bit down, tearing the agent''s head clean from their shoulders. Blood gushed from the neck like a fountain, painting the walls and floor in a macabre display of crimson.


    All that remained was Hypnotist, standing frozen in place, her mind reeling from the carnage she had just witnessed. The once-steely facade that held control over her puppets had shattered, leaving only wide-eyed terror in its wake. Blood soaked the floor, bodies of her former allies lay in twisted, mangled heaps, and the scent of death hung thick in the air like a suffocating blanket.


    Frank turned toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. His smile was soft, almost friendly, but in the dim light of the bloodstained hallway, it was more monstrous than any of the horrors he had unleashed.


    ¡°Thank you for waiting your turn,¡± he said casually, his voice dripping with mock politeness. The smile never faltered, and yet it was that very calmness that filled Hypnotist with a cold, creeping dread.


    Her body trembled uncontrollably as she took an involuntary step backward, but there was nowhere to run. The walls felt as though they were closing in, pressing the suffocating reality of the situation tighter and tighter around her. Frank¡¯s calm, collected demeanor only made her fear worse. His disinterest, his ease in reducing the others to little more than meat and bones, he wasn¡¯t just a killer. He was something far worse.


    ¡°I almost feel bad for the janitor,¡± Frank continued, his voice almost whimsical, as if discussing an inconvenience rather than the massacre he had just committed. ¡°That poor soul has to clean up this mess. You know, he was actually pretty nice to me.¡± He spoke with an eerie nostalgia, as if reminiscing about an old friend.


    ¡°He would often chat with me after bringing Bjorn Jr. some treats,¡± Frank added with a tilt of his head, his gaze distant for a moment, as though recalling something pleasant. Then his eyes locked onto hers, cold and unfeeling once again. ¡°Such a shame he¡¯ll be cleaning your blood next.¡±


    Hypnotist¡¯s breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding as she tried to steady herself. She opened her mouth to speak, to plead, but no sound came out. Frank was still smiling, his hands now bloodstained and dripping, yet his posture was casual, almost like they were having a normal conversation.


    But there was nothing normal about Frank. Nothing human. And as Hypnotist stood there, the weight of that realization crushed whatever fleeting hope remained.


    Hypnotist''s breath quickened as sheer terror consumed her, and the walls of her sanity began to crumble. Her mind, once sharp and controlled, now gave way to a rising storm of madness. Her body convulsed violently, as if something deep within her was breaking free, no longer bound by reason or control. Her skin grew pale, veins darkening into an unnatural hue, while her muscles twitched uncontrollably.


    With a guttural scream, her form began to twist and contort. Flesh morphed into vines, sinew stretching into bark. Her arms elongated, curling into branches that clawed at the walls, her legs rooted into the ground, intertwining with the floor as thick roots spread outward like tendrils of a monstrous tree. The room groaned under the weight of her transformation, the sound of cracking wood and snapping bones echoing through the bloodstained corridor.


    Her body was no longer recognizable¡ªher human form swallowed by the frenzied mass of plant matter as she grew larger, overtaking the entire space. The ceiling strained under her immense size, vines snaking across the walls like tendrils of a nightmare. The air grew thick with the scent of sap and rot as her grotesque evolution reached its peak.


    At the heart of this monstrous tree, suspended among twisting branches, floated a massive, pulsating brain. The sight was both awe-inspiring and horrifying, veins bulging as it throbbed with psychic energy. Branches and roots coiled protectively around it like a dark halo, thick and unyielding, as though guarding the central seat of her newfound consciousness.


    From the brain, dozens of glowing, spectral eyes materialized, hovering around her in an eerie swarm. They blinked in unison, fixated on Frank with a piercing gaze that followed his every move. The eyes watched him intently, glowing with malevolent intelligence, their unblinking stares filled with both fear and malice. They were countless, surrounding him like a living entity of their own, a grotesque halo of vision.


    The hallway was now more jungle than structure, the thick roots digging into the walls and floor, pulsating as if alive, the grotesque tree-mind breathing with a chaotic rhythm. Hypnotist, or what was left of her, no longer spoke with words. Her transformation had silenced her screams¡ªreplaced them with the unrelenting psychic pressure that bore down on Frank. The madness she had fallen into now radiated outward, palpable, as if the very atmosphere had turned against him.


    Frank sighed, rubbing his temple as he glanced at the grotesque, writhing form of Hypnotist, now transformed into a towering, living nightmare. The maddening swirl of roots and branches that consumed the hallway irritated him more than it intimidated him.


    ¡°It''s been so long since I¡¯ve killed an Awakened, I almost forgot how inconvenient they can be,¡± he muttered under his breath, watching the pulsating brain at the heart of the twisted tree. ¡°Of course, she turned into a damn frenzied.¡±


    He cast a brief glance down at Bjorn Jr., who stood dutifully by his side, tail wagging in an innocent, oblivious manner. ¡°Go back to the room, Bjorn Jr.,¡± Frank instructed, his voice unnervingly calm despite the surrounding chaos. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to get hurt.¡±


    The dog obeyed without hesitation, retreating down the blood-splattered corridor toward Frank¡¯s office. With a faint, pleased smile, Frank turned his attention back to the warped form of Hypnotist, his brow furrowing slightly as the surrounding air shifted.


    The brain at the center of the mass throbbed violently, and a shimmering projection materialized before him. Frank¡¯s eyes widened for a brief moment as the image took shape, a girl, no older than fourteen, stood before him. She had long brown hair that clung wetly to her pale face, her brown eyes wide and filled with sorrow. She wore a yellow rain jacket, now darkened with blood, which seeped slowly from a deep, jagged wound in her abdomen. Her tear-streaked face was frozen in an expression of pain and fear as the faint illusion of rain fell around her, the droplets vanishing before they could touch the floor.


    ¡°S-Sarah¡­¡± Frank¡¯s voice faltered, the usual icy calm giving way to something deeper, more fragile. His breath hitched, his smile gone, replaced by a rare flicker of vulnerability. His fingers twitched, as if wanting to reach out, but they remained frozen in place.


    The ground beneath him shifted without warning, jagged spikes of wood erupting from the floor with unnatural speed. Before Frank could react, the sharp roots skewered him, impaling him through his chest, arms, and legs. Blood spattered the floor in vivid streaks as his body jerked from the sudden impact, the wood twisting as it pierced his flesh. He winced, more in frustration than pain, but the sharp agony was undeniable.


    The projection of the girl remained before him, her tear-filled eyes never leaving his, even as the roots twisted deeper into his body. Rain continued to fall around her, an illusion as fragile as the memories it was pulling from him.


    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± Frank whispered, his voice hoarse as his vision blurred. The sight of Sarah standing before him brought an ache that no physical wound could match. His mind flashed back to the moment he lost her.

 Chapter 30-Nail

    As Frank stood there, jagged spikes twisting through his flesh, his vision blurred by blood and pain, something deeper stirred within him. The sight of the girl, Sarah, flooded his mind with memories, each more painful than the last. He could see it clearly now, that cold, rainy day. The sound of the rain hitting the pavement echoed in his ears, blending with the metallic scent of blood that still haunted him. He remembered running to her, his heart pounding in his chest, only to find her lifeless body lying in a puddle. Her yellow raincoat soaked through, and her pale face turned toward the sky as if asking for help that would never come.


    The memory twisted like a knife in his heart, the grief, and guilt washing over him in a wave that nearly drowned out the present. For a moment, it was as if the hallway, the grotesque tree, the blood, all of it had vanished, and he was back at that moment. His hands trembled at his sides, and he could almost feel the weight of her body as he cradled her, his voice breaking as he whispered her name over and over again.


    ¡°No¡­¡± he whispered, his voice hoarse, the taste of blood bitter on his tongue. ¡°Only someone who''s going to die looks back on their life¡­¡±


    The pain in his chest sharpened, not just from the spikes skewering him but from the rage building within, the all-consuming fury that had driven him for so long. His eyes, once cold and detached, now burned with a fire that nothing could quench.


    ¡°I won¡¯t die here,¡± he growled, his voice low and feral. ¡°I refuse to die. Not until I¡¯ve avenged her.¡±


    The surrounding air crackled with energy as the rage within him ignited. Lightning surged through his veins, coiling and twisting like a living thing, condensing into a raw, destructive force that began manifesting across his body. A shimmering electric armor crackled into existence, forming plates of blue-white energy that covered his chest, arms, and legs, amplifying his strength and speed. The spikes piercing him began to hiss and steam as the electric current coursed through them.


    The lightning didn¡¯t stop there, it coiled around his head, shaping itself into massive, jagged horns that crackled with untamed power. His hands shifted, the tips of his fingers elongating into razor-sharp claws, glowing with the same deadly energy. A tail of electricity whipped out behind him, lashing the air with a crackling hiss.


    The storm inside him had become a living, breathing thing, surging outward with unstoppable force. With a savage roar, Frank¡¯s entire body exploded with power, the condensed lightning coursing through the spikes that held him, obliterating them into dust. The hallway filled with a blinding light as the ground beneath him shattered, the shockwave of his power blasting the twisted tree branches apart instantly.


    As the debris settled, Frank stood amidst the devastation, electric horns crackling on his head like a monstrous crown. His eyes blazed with fury, the raw energy surging through his veins in time with the memory of his daughter, fueling his every breath. His chest heaved, but his gaze was locked onto the towering abomination before him, fury radiating from every inch of his being.


    ¡°How dare you,¡± Frank snarled, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. ¡°How *dare* you fucking try to use the memory of my daughter against me!¡±


    Thunder crashed through the hallway in response to his words, lightning erupting violently from his body. The very air around him seemed to tremble, as if it couldn¡¯t bear the weight of his wrath. The electric energy snapped and cracked, sending sparks flying as the atmosphere thickened with the suffocating aura of raw hatred. Even the light in the room seemed to dim under the pressure of his fury, the oppressive energy making the very walls groan.


    The frenzied monstrosity, the grotesque tree with its floating brain and psychic projection, remained unfazed. Without hesitation, more jagged spikes erupted from the floor, shooting upward like deadly spears. Frank moved with lightning-fast reflexes, leaping into the air as the ground splintered beneath him. His body was a blur of motion, dodging the spikes with effortless precision, but the frenzied wasn¡¯t finished.


    As Frank descended, the spikes shattered, transforming mid-air into destructive bullets. Each fragment, now sharp as shrapnel, whizzed toward him with lethal speed, intent on shredding him to pieces. Frank clenched his fists, his body humming with electricity, and in an instant, he accelerated, dodging the storm of projectiles with impossible agility. Sparks flew as the bullets struck the walls and floor, leaving nothing but scorched craters in their wake.


    Frank closed the distance between him and the monstrosity, the lightning around his arms intensifying as he prepared to strike. His eyes burned with the promise of violence, his electric claws poised to tear through the twisted branches that shielded the creature''s vulnerable brain. But just as his attack landed, the branches hardened in an instant, the wood transforming into an impenetrable barrier. His strike, which should have sliced through like butter, barely left a scratch.


    Frank grimaced, skidding to a halt. ¡°How annoying,¡± he growled, staring down the tree. The frenzied wasn¡¯t some mindless beast; it had evolved, and adapted. It was at least a four-star threat, its grotesque powers more varied and insidious than most.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Frank muttered, analyzing the creature¡¯s abilities as electricity sparked across his fingertips. ¡°Telekinesis¡­ plant manipulation¡­ hardening¡­ and its hypnosis is on a whole other level. Just my damn luck. Looks like I¡¯ll get to take out the rest of my anger on this damn thing.¡±


    The ground beneath Frank became a chaotic garden of horrors, flowers of every shape and color erupting from the earth, each adorned with razor-sharp thorns, likely coated with a venom designed to paralyze or worse. The air was thick with the scent of those twisted blooms, their colors vibrant yet deadly. The flowers seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, writhing as if they had minds of their own, responding to the dark power of the frenzied.


    Frank, however, was undeterred. His form began to shift grotesquely as monstrous wings tore from his back, jagged and gnarled. Eyes and mouths appeared along the surface of the wings, each one twitching and snapping as lightning coursed through them, illuminating the grotesque appendages. His right arm elongated into a sinister stinger, gleaming with a venomous sheen, while his left morphed into a grotesque maw, lined with jagged teeth and covered in twitching eyes that blinked in random intervals. His entire body became a living nightmare¡ªsmall mouths and eyes sprouted from his neck, slithering down his chest and arms, each one radiating with electric energy, flickering with the intensity of his rage.


    The storm of power that surrounded him crackled as bolts of lightning danced across his monstrous new form, casting long, eerie shadows in the bloodstained hallway. The very air seemed to hiss with the pure, destructive force radiating from his body, a terrifying fusion of man and monster.


    Across the room, the frenzied monstrosity responded in kind. Tentacles of psychic energy began to manifest, twisting and writhing in the air like serpents. They were translucent, almost ethereal, their surfaces rippling like the surface of water as they reached for Frank. His reflexes kicked in, his monstrous wings flaring wide to block the oncoming assault, but the tentacles passed through them as if they were nothing. Each touch, though seemingly intangible, rippled through his mind like a shockwave, poisoning his thoughts.


    The madness seeped in, subtle at first¡ªa whisper at the edge of his consciousness, then a creeping taint that began to warp his perception. The eyes on his body twitched erratically, as though disturbed by the mental attack. His mind swam with distorted visions, his sanity bending under the weight of the frenzied¡¯s psychic assault.


    Frank gritted his teeth, shaking off the encroaching insanity, but the sensation lingered. The tentacles continued to lash out, brushing against his skin and dragging his mind closer to the abyss. His monstrous form shuddered under the mental onslaught, every nerve alive with both the thrill of battle and the gnawing sickness of madness.


    Suddenly, a memory clawed its way to the surface of Frank''s mind. It was a day burned into his soul¡ªthe day after his capture. They had taken him to a place he would never forget, the Gamma Facility. Cold, sterile walls surrounded him, and the air was thick with the stench of blood and despair. He had been restrained, metal cuffs biting into his wrists and ankles as he lay helpless on an operating table. His heart raced in his chest, not out of fear, but fury¡ªfury for what was about to be done to him.


    The memory became visceral, real, as though it were happening all over again. He could feel the cold, unforgiving hands of the scientists and guards, each one devoid of emotion, as they forcibly placed squirming parasites onto his skin. The creatures were unlike anything he had ever seen, resembling snakes with translucent bodies that shimmered with an oily sheen. They wriggled unnervingly, slithering over his flesh before burrowing deep into his body. The moment they entered, the agony began¡ªan excruciating, soul-searing pain that twisted his insides and made his veins feel as though they were filled with molten lead.


    His vision had blurred as he fought against the torment, barely able to see the other inmates strapped to tables beside him. Their screams filled the sterile room, but it wasn¡¯t the noise that haunted him¡ªit was what followed. Their bodies melted before his eyes, skin sloughing off like wax dripping from a candle. Muscles twisted and contorted, bones snapped, and in their place, grotesque horrors emerged, creatures unfit for any human eye to witness, monsters birthed from the madness of the facility. Their cries for mercy had been silenced by their own horrific transformations, their minds too shattered to comprehend what they had become.


    But Frank had endured. The parasites had tried to change him too, to break him like they had the others. His body had resisted, he controlled the parasites, using their monstrous power as his own. The memory of that torment lingered, etched into his mind like a scar, a reminder of his survival, and the cruelty he would never forgive.


    His grip on reality wavered momentarily as the frenzied¡¯s madness clawed at his mind, feeding on that trauma. But Frank¡¯s fury was too strong, too deeply ingrained in him, to succumb to the chaos.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Frank growled, his voice low, dangerous, filled with a lethal intent that could not be denied. The madness clawed at him, relentless, twisting his thoughts, but he would not let it consume him. Not now. Not ever.


    His body crackled with raw power, lightning surging through every inch of him. The monstrous eyes covering his wings and arms snapped open, each one glowing with electric fury as his gaze locked onto the frenzied. His entire form seemed to hum with energy, arcs of electricity dancing across his skin, casting long, erratic shadows against the bloodied walls of the hallway.


    The memory of the Gamma Facility fueled his rage, sharpening his focus. He had been through worse. He had survived hell itself. This creature before him, this frenzied abomination, would not break him.


    The air was thick with chaos as more illusionary tentacles shot toward Frank, writhing like the limbs of a shadowed nightmare. They lashed out from every direction, twisting through the air like serpents, but Frank was quicker. He darted between them, lightning crackling off his form as his monstrous wings propelled him through the debris. Every move was precise, a well-honed instinct that kept him a step ahead of the frenzied¡¯s relentless onslaught.


    But it wasn¡¯t just the illusions; the very environment around him had become an extension of the creature¡¯s power. Parts of the walls began to morph, twisting and contorting under the frenzied¡¯s telekinesis. Sharp, jagged weapons formed from the twisted metal and broken concrete, slicing through the air with lethal intent. Frank dodged, ducking and weaving as he sent arcs of lightning at the creature, each strike more brutal than the last.


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    Yet, the frenzied continued to harden its defenses. The brain at the center pulsed, branches reinforcing the bark-like armor that shielded it, turning Frank''s attacks into little more than glancing blows. Every time Frank closed in for a devastating strike, more psychic projections or walls of wood would spring forth, thwarting his efforts.


    Suddenly, without warning, an illusionary tentacle erupted from the wall behind him. It pierced through his back, wrapping around his chest like a constricting serpent. Though intangible, the impact felt agonizingly real as the frenzied invaded his mind with its delusions. His body spasmed for a moment, the madness seeping in through the mental assault. And that¡¯s when the memory hit him.


    It was a scene burned into his soul¡ªone that haunted his every step.


    His wife, Anna, hung from the ceiling in their bathroom, her body swaying gently. A noose had tightened around her neck, its rough fibers cutting into her pale skin. Her once-soft hands were stained with blood, and her right wrist slashed open with the kind of precision that only sheer desperation could summon. In her left hand, tied to her trembling fingers, was the cross she always wore, a symbol of faith that had meant so much to her. But now, it was a mocking relic, dangling uselessly from the hand of a dead woman.


    And scrawled on the walls in thick, crimson strokes was a message that burned into his mind like a brand.


    ¡°May God forgive me for giving birth to a demon.¡±


    The words twisted around him like the frenzied¡¯s tentacles, suffocating, pulling at the edges of his sanity. They echoed in his skull, growing louder and louder as the memory surged through him, choking him with guilt.


    Frank''s breath came in ragged gasps, his body battered and shredded as the relentless assault continued. He felt his strength waning, the creature clawing deeper into his mind, uprooting memories he had long fought to bury. His past surged forward like a tidal wave, crashing over him, threatening to drown him in despair.


    But he couldn''t stop. Not now.


    With every ounce of willpower he had left, Frank unleashed a furious storm of lightning, bolts so intense they shattered several of the creature''s thick, twisted branches. The air crackled and burned with the raw energy he summoned, each strike aimed at the monstrous brain that hovered at the center of the frenzied''s form. For a moment, it seemed like he was gaining ground as branches splintered and fell to ash.


    But more grew in their place, faster than he could destroy them. The creature was regenerating, feeding off his desperation. Each new wave of branches was thicker, harder, and more relentless. Frank gritted his teeth, his body searing with pain as the mental strain of the fight gnawed at him.


    Then, out of nowhere, a telekinetic bullet fired from the wall. He barely had time to react before it tore through his arm, shredding muscle and bone like paper. His right arm ripped off in an explosion of blood and lightning, the pain instantaneous and blinding. But Frank, driven by fury and sheer survival instinct, regrew it within seconds, his regeneration ability kicking in as flesh knitted itself back together.


    He continued his charge, each step forward costing him more of himself. His body was a mess of torn flesh and blood, his skin ripped apart by telekinetic bullets and spikes. But he pushed on, refusing to falter, his electric aura burning brighter with every attack. Yet, the storm he summoned wasn''t enough. The frenzied was too fast, too resilient, its defenses impossible to break through entirely.


    And then something unexpected happened.


    Suddenly, Frank felt his body grow unnaturally heavy, as if the air itself had turned to lead. His wings faltered mid-flight, the once powerful flaps reduced to sluggish movements. A crushing force surrounded him, dragging him down from the air with relentless pressure. It wasn¡¯t just the branches and vines anymore, he realized, far too late, that the frenzied was using telekinesis on him directly.


    ¡°It can manipulate people, too?¡± Frank thought to himself.


    He barely had time to process the thought before he was violently slammed into the ground. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his body, bones splintering from the sheer force of the telekinetic grip. Vines slithered across him, wrapping around his limbs like living chains, their thorns digging deep into his skin. The sensation was agonizing, but the worst part was the venom. The thorns were laced with a hallucinogenic poison, and it surged into his veins, igniting his bloodstream with fire.


    His vision swam, the world around him shifting, distorting.


    Then, he saw them.


    His wife and daughter stood over him, their faces twisted in grotesque mockery. Sarah, the light in her eyes replaced by an empty, hollow stare, looked just as she had on the day he found her. Blood seeped from the wound in her abdomen, pooling at her feet as she stood over him, silent tears mingling with the rain that wasn¡¯t really there.


    His wife, Anna, swayed gently, the noose around her neck a constant reminder of the day he lost everything. Her face was gaunt, her eyes dead, and the cross still dangled from her left hand. She lifted her right hand, still covered in blood from her self-inflicted wound, and pointed at him.


    ¡°You are a monster, Frank,¡± she whispered, her voice distorted, echoing in his ears. ¡°Look at what you¡¯ve done. Look at the blood on your hands.¡±


    Sarah joined in, her voice trembling with accusation. ¡°You let us die. You¡¯re nothing but a monster.¡±


    Their words dug into him like knives, twisting his soul in ways the physical attacks couldn¡¯t. He tried to move, tried to shake free of the vines constricting his body, but the hallucinations wrapped tighter around his mind. His heart pounded in his chest, fear, and rage battling for dominance as his family¡¯s ghosts continued their torment.


    ¡°Stop¡­¡± Frank muttered, his voice strained, barely audible over the chaos in his mind. He clenched his fists, lightning crackling weakly across his skin. ¡°I won¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the reason we¡¯re dead,¡± Anna hissed, her eyes narrowing with disgust. ¡°And you¡¯ll never atone for it. You¡¯ll just keep killing. You can¡¯t stop.¡±


    The vines dug deeper, the venom coursing through him, amplifying the madness, feeding the illusion. His wife''s and daughter¡¯s voices overlapped, echoing endlessly, driving him closer to the brink.


    ¡°No, Frank thought, his teeth gritting together as pain and guilt clashed inside him. ¡°This isn¡¯t real. This isn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    But the frenzied wasn¡¯t letting go. It tightened its grip, its psychic tendrils reaching deeper into his mind, dragging out every moment of his suffering.


    ¡°They¡¯re right,¡± Frank muttered to himself, his voice hollow, almost resigned. ¡°I am a monster. I¡¯ve killed and killed, all for the sake of avenging Sarah. But in the end¡­ she¡¯ll never come back. Is there any point to this senseless killing?¡± His eyes flickered with doubt as another illusionary tentacle pierced his chest, driving him deeper into the torment of his memories. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    The poison clawed at his mind, dragging him into another memory¡ªa memory that he had tried countless times to bury, but never could.


    It was the day he found Sarah¡¯s lifeless body.


    She lay there in the street, her small frame soaked by the relentless downpour, rain pooling around her as if the heavens themselves wept for her. Her pale skin, so cold, so still, gleamed under the flickering streetlights. The world had gone silent for Frank that day, everything except the sound of the raindrops and his own ragged breathing.


    But it wasn¡¯t just Sarah¡¯s body that haunted the scene. Standing nearby, as if relishing the sight, was a man, smirking, calm, and cruel. He stood there without an umbrella, yet the rain never seemed to touch his body, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he exhaled smoke, letting it curl lazily into the air. His eyes were hidden behind the shadow of his brimmed hat, but Frank could feel the malice radiating from him, a palpable, suffocating presence.


    It was him. Alexander Jones. The leader of A.E.G.I.S. He stood there calmly, not saying a word as a twisted smile filled his face.


    Frank¡¯s fists clenched as the memory burned itself deeper into his mind, the rage flaring like a wildfire. But in that memory, he hadn¡¯t been able to do anything. He was powerless, crushed by the weight of his failure. The moment he attempted to attack him, Jones vanished into the storm, leaving only his mocking laughter behind, along with a single badge lying on the ground.


    The badge of A.E.G.I.S.


    The logo stared back at Frank from the puddle it lay in, taunting him with the cruel irony. The organization that had promised protection and peace, was the one that had taken everything he had left. Sarah.


    The tentacles of the frenzied dug deeper into Frank¡¯s mind, amplifying the agony, and twisting the memory until it was unbearable. The voices of his family echoed louder, mocking him, berating him for his failures, for his monstrous path of vengeance.


    Frank¡¯s body convulsed as the thorns tightened around him, his lightning dimming as the madness threatened to consume him entirely. His blood dripped onto the floor, mixing with the hallucinated rain, his breath coming in ragged gasps.


    At that moment, Frank began to laugh.


    Frank''s laughter echoed through the ruined hallway, a twisted, unhinged sound that reverberated off the walls like the death knell of his sanity. It wasn¡¯t the laughter of someone amused, it was a horrid, broken thing, born of madness, grief, and fury. Each wave of laughter felt like the final crack in his already shattered soul.


    ¡°He¡¯s still out there,¡± Frank rasped, his voice seething with unbridled rage. His mind spiraled deeper into the darkness, the memories of everything he¡¯d endured flashing behind his eyes like a cursed reel of film. ¡°He tortured me¡­ killed my daughter¡­ made me a puppet for the world to beat down¡­ killed my daughter¡­ turned me into this freak¡­ he¡­ *killed*¡­ *my*¡­ *daughter*!¡±


    The words dripped from his lips like venom, each syllable laced with an unspeakable wrath that had been festering for years. And with that wrath, something inside him snapped.


    Lightning exploded from Frank¡¯s body, a raw, untamed power that lit up the corridor like the crack of a thousand storms. The energy surged, burning away the vines and thorns that bound him, incinerating them in an instant. The illusory figures of his wife and daughter wavered in the light, their ghostly forms flickering before they were consumed by the storm. They tried to reform, to haunt him once more, but Frank¡¯s focus was no longer on the past. His rage was all-consuming, an inferno that left no room for grief, no space for anything but vengeance.


    He reached for the nail that had pierced his forehead, the jagged, psychic weapon that had melded into his flesh. His hand trembled as he gripped it, the surrounding skin pulsing as if trying to absorb the foreign object, it had been with him so long, that his body believed it was a part of him. With a snarl, Frank tore it free, blood trailing in thick droplets from the wound. His body resisted, the flesh pulling back toward the nail, but Frank¡¯s will was stronger.


    The nail dangled in his hand, slick with his own blood, the twisted metal humming with energy. Without hesitation, Frank positioned it between his pointer and middle fingers, a makeshift weapon of pure hatred. His fingers sparked with electricity, the energy bouncing between them, growing in intensity as he prepared for his final attack.


    ¡°Railgun,¡± Frank roared, his voice a booming command that reverberated through the air like thunder.


    The nail shot out with a blinding flash, propelled by the sheer force of his power. It tore through the air at unimaginable speed, a bolt of destruction that cared nothing for the frenzied¡¯s defenses. The creature tried to react, raising branches and layers of hardened bark to shield its vulnerable core, but it was futile. The nail ripped through every barrier, shredding the defenses as if they were paper, and struck the massive, pulsating brain at the heart of the frenzied.


    There was a sickening, wet sound as the nail punctured the brain, and for a brief moment, everything went still.


    Then, decay set in. The creature¡¯s body began to wither, the vibrant, pulsating mass of the frenzied deteriorating into a mangled, lifeless husk. The branches shriveled, the roots blackened, and the once-gargantuan form collapsed in on itself, leaving only the disfigured, broken body of Hypnotist at its center. She lay there, a grotesque shadow of her former self, her once-human form now unrecognizable in the aftermath of the madness.


    Frank watched, his breath heavy, as the last remnants of the Frenzied crumbled away. There was no satisfaction in the kill, only a hollow emptiness that gnawed at him from within. The fight was over, but the war inside him raged on.


    Without a word, Frank turned and began to walk, his heavy footsteps echoing through the blood-soaked hallways of the facility. The storm of destruction he had unleashed faded behind him, but he didn¡¯t look back. There was nothing left for him here, no purpose in lingering among the dead.


    As he passed the wall, his eyes caught the sight of the nail embedded deep within it. It stood as a symbol, of restraint, of everything he had once tried to hold back. He didn¡¯t need it anymore. He wasn¡¯t pretending to be anything but what he was, a monster driven by fury.


    With a final glance, Frank left the nail behind, a silent acknowledgment that there would be no more shackles, no more chains holding back the tempest inside him.

 Chapter 31-Library

    The Bookkeeper leaned back in his grand, leather-bound chair, his fingertips tapping rhythmically as if to the unheard pulse of time itself. His eyes, sharp and gleaming behind those black-rimmed glasses, flickered with the kind of curiosity one might have while playing with a toy. But here, in this endless library, an infinite sanctuary of knowledge, the ''toys'' were people, and the game was life and death. Each tome that lined the towering shelves whispered of secrets long-lost, forgotten tragedies, and battles fought in shadows.


    Around him, the flurry of butterflies seemed an odd juxtaposition¡ªa dance of delicate life amidst the faint stench of death. Their wings shimmered under the soft glow of dim lamps, a kaleidoscope of colors weaving through the air like fragments of dreams. They floated with elegance, occasionally landing on the corners of ancient books or on the rim of one of the ornate lamps, their beauty masking the quiet savagery that had unfolded moments before.


    The floor, pristine in appearance, bore the slightest imperfection¡ªa small pool of blood, dark and glossy under the candlelight, a silent testament to a life extinguished. The scent, subtle but unmistakable, lingered in the air, intertwining with the aroma of parchment and aged leather. The body that had spilled it was already gone, vanished as if it had never existed, though the metallic tang of its absence remained.


    With a soft, amused chuckle, the Bookkeeper glanced down at the lingering bloodstain. ¡°Ah, my apologies,¡± he said, his voice velvet and insincere, tinged with mirth. He tilted his head, an almost whimsical gesture as if addressing an old friend. ¡°There was a... minor incident, you see. Nothing that should trouble you, I assure you. And, in the spirit of generosity, I won''t charge you for that one. Consider it a favor.¡±


    His tone was light, bordering on playful, as though he were discussing a trivial favor rather than the murder of a man. He glanced at Wallace, who stood across from him, silent and still. The flickering light caught the contours of Wallace¡¯s expression, unreadable yet stern. His gaze shifted momentarily to the blood on the floor, but no sign of shock or anger registered¡ªjust a cold indifference, as if such matters were beneath his concern.


    ¡°You killed Callum, right?¡± Wallace said, his voice steady, betraying neither surprise nor satisfaction. ¡°I must thank you. He was making things rather difficult for me.¡±


    The Bookkeeper''s grin deepened, his amusement growing, as if Wallace¡¯s gratitude was an unexpected delight. ¡°Ah, yes. Callum.¡± He spoke the name slowly, savoring it like one might a rare delicacy. ¡°Such a promising young man, wasn¡¯t he? Full of potential. But alas, some promises are meant to be broken.¡± He gave a half-hearted shrug, the mock sympathy in his voice as shallow as the pool of blood at his feet. ¡°He made a most unwise decision¡­ attempting to steal something precious from me. I simply couldn¡¯t let that slide, you understand.¡±


    With a subtle flick of his wrist, a pale blue butterfly alighted on his hand, its delicate wings contrasting sharply with the macabre conversation. It fluttered lightly, unaware of the tension crackling between the two men. The Bookkeeper''s eyes followed the creature''s movements, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, as though sharing a private joke. ¡°Though, if I¡¯m being honest,¡± he said with mock disappointment, ¡°he didn¡¯t prove to be much of a challenge. A rather¡­ underwhelming end. Such a pity. But, that¡¯s the nature of the game, isn¡¯t it? Some pieces fall far too easily.¡±


    Wallace raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of curiosity and disbelief as he scrutinized the man before him. ¡°You¡¯re someone who seems to have three of everything,¡± he began, his tone measured but probing, ¡°what could be stolen from you that would actually anger you?¡±


    The Bookkeeper''s smile remained, but something dark and fleeting passed behind his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his grand chair. ¡°I''m sorry,¡± he purred, voice as smooth as velvet, ¡°but that''s a secret, one that I refuse to tell, no matter how much you¡¯d pay me.¡±


    Wallace narrowed his eyes, his suspicion deepening. The Bookkeeper was notorious for his willingness to sell any piece of information to the highest bidder, no matter how sensitive. His refusal to disclose something¡ªanything¡ªwas as rare as it was suspicious.


    Mia, standing nearby with her arms crossed, shot a glance at the man. Her voice cut through the air, sharp, and cold. ¡°You¡¯ve offered to tell us how the world would end,¡± she said, her tone laced with accusation, ¡°yet time and time again recently, you¡¯ve been keeping secrets. What is it you¡¯re hiding?¡±


    The Bookkeeper chuckled, a low, ominous sound that sent a shiver through the room. ¡°Ah, Mia,¡± he said softly, ¡°you¡¯ve always been the inquisitive one. But some knowledge is too¡­ delicate for those who might misuse it.¡±


    Baal, looming in the shadows beside Mia, grunted in annoyance. His voice was guttural, tinged with a strange amusement as he sniffed the air. ¡°Hey wife,¡± he said, his monstrous form shifting slightly, ¡°this human smells weird. What¡¯s wrong with him?¡±


    Mia¡¯s eyes flashed with irritation, and she shot Baal a cold glare. ¡°Don¡¯t call me ''wife,'' you demon,¡± she retorted, her voice icy. The tension between them was palpable, as if it crackled in the air.


    Before either could react, the Bookkeeper snapped his fingers with a swift, almost theatrical motion. In an instant, a golden spear materialized out of thin air, gleaming with radiant energy. It shot toward Baal¡¯s head with deadly precision, slicing through the air with a piercing whistle.


    But Baal was quicker. A grotesque mouth, massive and jagged, appeared from his hand, its teeth gnashing as it devoured the spear whole. The weapon vanished into the abyss of his maw, leaving behind only a trail of dissipating light.


    Baal licked his lips, a grin spreading across his monstrous face. ¡°Woah,¡± he growled, his voice dripping with sinister delight. ¡°The mana in that spear¡ªit''s delicious.¡± He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a ravenous hunger. ¡°Please, try to kill me more,¡± he taunted, his laughter filling the room like the rumble of distant thunder.


    ¡°Mana?¡± Mia questioned, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she looked at Baal.


    The Bookkeeper smiled, his tone casual, almost as if discussing something as simple as the weather. ¡°It''s the demon¡¯s equivalent of aura. In the Abyss, where they hail from, that¡¯s what they call it. Many different creatures have their own names for it. For example, the angels refer to it as holy power.¡±


    Iris, standing near Wallace, glanced between them, her brow furrowing in confusion. ¡°Wallace, who is this guy?¡±


    Before Wallace could answer, Charles stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he pointed toward the Bookkeeper. ¡°Yeah, I recognize him too. He came by to check on Iris when she was unconscious.¡±


    The Bookkeeper''s playful smile remained as he raised his hand, snapping his fingers with an air of authority. In an instant, the previously unconscious students began to stir, their movements slow at first, as if awakening from a deep sleep. The room shifted as the students came to life, their confusion evident as they blinked, looking around.


    Theo immediately rushed to check on his sister, his voice laced with concern. ¡°Celia, are you alright?¡± he whispered, kneeling beside her, his hand gently brushing her shoulder.


    Xavier, ever the picture of calm, scanned the room briefly before sighing and casually slumping back onto a couch, seemingly uninterested in the surrounding chaos.


    Jacob, however, looked frantic as his gaze locked onto Alice. He bolted toward her, his voice trembling with residual fear. ¡°Alice, are you okay?¡± His hands shook as he spoke. ¡°I remember that monster had you¡­ he grabbed you by the hair, and then¡­ then he¡­¡±


    Alice blinked, her expression distant as she tried to recall the events. ¡°I can¡¯t seem to fully remember what happened,¡± she murmured, her voice dazed. ¡°It¡¯s all¡­ foggy.¡±


    From across the room, The Bookkeeper''s voice sliced through the confusion like a blade, his tone devoid of emotion. ¡°Those kids are quite fortunate. They encountered the Boogeyman¡­ and yet, he chose to spare them.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t dodge the question!¡± Charles snapped, his voice filled with frustration as he glared at the Bookkeeper. His hand twitched at his side, a clear indication that his patience was wearing thin.


    The Bookkeeper turned his gaze toward Wallace, his smile never faltering. He almost seemed to be enjoying the tension in the room. ¡°Wallace,¡± he began, his voice smooth and unbothered, ¡°odds are there will be a meeting involving the entire Clockwork Council after this incident. Not just us¡ªBeta and Gamma facilities were attacked as well.¡±


    Wallace crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. He didn¡¯t like where this was going.


    ¡°I¡¯ll answer a few more of your questions,¡± the Bookkeeper continued, ¡°but only after the meeting.¡± He paused, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. ¡°Of course, in return for a favor.¡±


    ¡°Tell me how many enemies are left within the facility,¡± Wallace demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. His patience was wearing thin, and he wasn''t in the mood for the Bookkeeper''s usual games.


    The Bookkeeper leaned back slightly, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°So demanding,¡± he teased, his tone dripping with amusement. ¡°But fine, I¡¯ll indulge you¡ªI''ll just add it to your tab.¡±


    He stood, the motion slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. ¡°The majority of the minor forces have already been dealt with,¡± he began, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°Both by your agents and, of course, the Boogeyman, who¡ªmight I add¡ªwas quite hungry.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent, waiting for the real information.


    ¡°As for the Awakened threats,¡± the Bookkeeper continued, his smile deepening as he listed them off like a vendor recounting items in a marketplace. ¡°The Frost was slain by you, no?¡± He raised an eyebrow at Wallace, knowing the answer already but enjoying the game of stating the obvious. ¡°I personally dealt with Mockingbird. I won''t deny that I enjoyed myself doing so.¡±


    He glanced toward Mia, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. ¡°The Knight, well¡­ let¡¯s just say Mia showed some impressive skills and drowned him quite thoroughly.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Mia didn¡¯t respond, her icy gaze fixed on the Bookkeeper as he continued.


    ¡°Baal,¡± the Bookkeeper said, gesturing toward the demon, who gave a lazy wave in return, ¡°was rather efficient, beheading the Scholar. Not much left of him now, I''m afraid.¡±


    ¡°And as for the Hummingbird and the Boogeyman¡­¡± The Bookkeeper¡¯s smile widened, almost as if the thought amused him. ¡°They¡¯re currently¡­ preoccupied. Their battle began not too long ago.¡±


    ¡°The Hummingbird was originally battling the Slayer,¡± The Bookkeeper interjected, his tone flat and devoid of any emotion, ¡°but the moment she brought out her artifact, the Boogeyman charged in. He has a particular hatred for Excalibur.¡±


    Wallace absorbed the information, his mind working quickly to process the chaos unfolding within the facility. His gaze darkened as the realization sank in, they had cleared most of the immediate threats, but the remaining battles could still shift the tides in unpredictable ways.


    The Bookkeeper watched Wallace, his smile unwavering, sensing the storm brewing beneath the agent''s calm exterior. ¡°Satisfied?¡± he asked, his voice laced with mock politeness.


    ¡°Bring me and Baal to where they¡¯re battling. We need to assist her,¡± Wallace demanded, his voice urgent. ¡°She¡¯s strong, but depending on how much power he placed into that version of himself, she might not be able to win.¡±


    The Bookkeeper reclined in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. ¡°You doubt her too much,¡± he replied, almost lazily. ¡°She is a fellow member of the Clockwork Council, just like you and I, Wallace. I promise you, she will win. I¡¯m sorry, but I want her to handle this herself.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s brow furrowed in frustration. ¡°May I ask why? Or is that another one of your secrets?¡± His eyes hardened. ¡°Even if she will win, she¡¯ll sustain serious injuries.¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s expression never wavered, his gaze steady. ¡°I need the outcome of this battle to remain undisturbed. She will win, and what follows is something I won¡¯t let you interfere with,¡± he said coolly, his voice gaining an edge of finality. ¡°So sit tight and read a few books. You¡¯re in a library, after all.¡±


    The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Wallace clenched his fists, but he knew there was no use arguing. The Bookkeeper was immovable, his influence, and foresight too vast to challenge, especially in his own domain. Wallace glanced around at the towering shelves of books, feeling the weight of his powerlessness. There was no way out of the library without the Bookkeeper¡¯s consent.


    Meanwhile, Iris¡¯s sharp gaze had been locked on the enigmatic figure of the Bookkeeper. To her, he wasn¡¯t just the keeper of knowledge and secrets¡ªhe was Fate, the being she had known for as long as she could remember. Yet, he had never shown any direct interest in her, never acted as if they had crossed paths before, despite the long threads of history they shared.


    Stepping forward, Iris approached his desk, her voice soft but direct. ¡°Excuse me,¡± she said, gaining his attention. ¡°Earlier, Wallace used a book, one that he said came from you. Could you explain what that book was? And why¡­¡± she hesitated, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, ¡°why it matched the one you gave me?¡±


    Wallace¡¯s head tilted slightly at her words, his curiosity piqued.


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s smile barely faltered, though a glint of something more, perhaps amusement, perhaps caution, flashed behind his eyes. ¡°So many questions today,¡± he muttered under his breath, loud enough only for Iris to hear. ¡°Honestly, it never seems to end.¡±


    He leaned closer to her, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper that no one else could catch. ¡°What I have to say to you, I won¡¯t say in front of others. I already have a meeting planned, so just wait.¡±


    With that, the Bookkeeper stood, his movements fluid, deliberate. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the bookshelf behind him. A book slid out on its own, pages rustling as it opened. He stepped through the book, disappearing as though swallowed by the words themselves.


    Wallace stared at the spot where he had vanished, tension knotting in his chest. Iris¡¯s eyes lingered on the space as well, her mind spinning, knowing that Fate, The Bookkeeper, held answers she desperately needed. But the weight of his secrets remained, looming like a shadow over them all.


    ¡°Excuse me, everyone gather around, I need to explain a few things to you all,¡± Wallace called out, his voice firm but carrying an edge of concern.


    The children shuffled closer, their curiosity mixed with apprehension. They knew something was off about this place, the vast, endless shelves of books, the eerie calm, and the enigmatic presence of the Bookkeeper, but they trusted Wallace. For now.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± Wallace began, locking eyes with each of them, ¡°under normal circumstances, I¡¯d never allow any of you into this place, but things are far from normal right now. So, I¡¯m laying down a few rules.¡± His voice dropped, growing serious. ¡°First, never, under any circumstances, venture past the front of the library. Beyond the Bookkeeper¡¯s desk is where things get dangerous. This place may seem calm, but the deeper you go, the more dangerous it becomes.¡±


    The kids glanced nervously at the towering shelves, the flickering lamps casting long shadows across the rows of books that seemed to stretch into infinity. Wallace¡¯s tone made it clear, this wasn¡¯t just a warning. It was a matter of survival.


    ¡°Second,¡± Wallace continued, ¡°never ask anything of the Bookkeeper. He always takes a price, and trust me, it¡¯s not one I¡¯d recommend paying.¡±


    ¡°And finally,¡± Wallace added, ¡°if the Bookkeeper ever offers you a book, unless he tells you beforehand that your debt has been paid for¡ªdon¡¯t accept it. His books aren¡¯t gifts. They come with consequences, and none of you are ready to face those.¡±


    Iris raised her hand cautiously, her voice soft but inquisitive. ¡°But¡­ what about you, Wallace? You accepted a book from him.¡±


    Wallace gave a tight-lipped smile, his eyes briefly flicking to Iris before settling back on the group. ¡°That¡¯s different. I can handle his deals. You can¡¯t.¡±


    Charles, ever the pragmatist, spoke up, ¡°But what price will you have to pay, Wallace? The powers you got from that book¡­ they were insanely strong. It doesn¡¯t come free, right?¡±


    Before Wallace could respond, a familiar, mischievous voice echoed from behind him. ¡°Oh, there¡¯s no need to worry,¡± the Bookkeeper said, his tone dripping with amusement. ¡°It won¡¯t be anything too serious.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s body tensed immediately, and in a flash, he spun around, his instincts kicking in. His leg shot out in a swift kick aimed at the Bookkeeper¡¯s head, but before his foot could make contact, the Bookkeeper dissolved into a flurry of butterflies. The delicate creatures scattered, fluttering gracefully through the air before reforming across the room, where the Bookkeeper reappeared, lounging against a shelf with a teasing smile on his lips.


    ¡°Must you always resort to violence?¡± the Bookkeeper asked with mock innocence, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. ¡°I¡¯m simply here to reassure you, Wallace. Your debt is¡­ manageable.¡± His eyes gleamed with mischief. ¡°For now.¡±


    Wallace scowled, his hand still twitching from the adrenaline rush, while the children watched in wide-eyed fascination, unsure whether to be terrified or impressed by the bizarre exchange.


    ¡°I won¡¯t entertain your games today,¡± Wallace said coldly, his voice laced with frustration. ¡°Just stay out of this.¡±


    The Bookkeeper chuckled softly, his laughter echoing through the library like the flutter of pages. ¡°Oh, Wallace¡­ It¡¯s not a game, it¡¯s business. But don¡¯t worry, when the time comes, you¡¯ll pay exactly what¡¯s owed.¡± His eyes flicked to the children for a brief moment, a subtle warning in his gaze, before returning to Wallace. ¡°I never take more than what¡¯s fair¡­ unless someone¡¯s foolish enough to offer.¡±


    The air hung heavy with tension, the playful yet ominous tone of the Bookkeeper unsettling everyone. Even Wallace, who had grown used to dealing with him, couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something darker was at play.


    The Bookkeeper gave a final, knowing smirk, his fingers brushing the spine of a nearby book like he was caressing a secret no one else could touch. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to your little pep talk,¡± he said with a teasing glint in his eye. Then, with a sly wink that made Wallace''s stomach churn, he added, ¡°But remember¡ªthe library is always watching.¡±


    Before anyone could respond, his form dissolved into a swirling cloud of butterflies, their vibrant wings catching the flicker of lamplight before dispersing into the dim shadows of the vast library. The silence that followed felt oppressive, as if the air itself had thickened in his absence.


    Mia exhaled sharply, her irritation evident. ¡°Dealing with him is the worst. Everything¡¯s a game to him.¡±


    Baal, still eyeing the spot where the Bookkeeper had vanished, licked his lips thoughtfully. ¡°His mana tasted¡­ different. Delicious, yes, but there''s something too special about it. Something unnatural.¡±


    ¡°Everything about him is unnatural,¡± Wallace muttered, crossing his arms. His gaze swept over the endless rows of books, each one holding who-knew-what kind of dangerous knowledge. ¡°He¡¯s as much an enigma as ever. This library¡­ it defies logic. It¡¯s not just a collection of books, its door can appear anywhere in the world, anytime, and any information, no matter how lost, can be found here. Yet he joined us, but only under one condition, that he could keep a close eye on the Alpha facility.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s eyes flicked to Iris, a creeping suspicion gnawing at him. Had the Bookkeeper been planning her arrival all along? Was his insistence on watching the Alpha facility tied to Iris somehow? But there was a flaw in that theory. The Bookkeeper had been part of A.E.G.I.S far longer than Iris had even been alive. Still, there was something about his strange fixation, something Wallace couldn¡¯t quite piece together.


    As if sensing Wallace¡¯s troubled thoughts, Mia voiced her own concerns. ¡°I¡¯m more worried about what he¡¯s planning with Eliza. He¡¯s not one to lie, he never does, but why is he so insistent on making her fight two powerful enemies alone?¡±


    Mia¡¯s frustration simmered beneath her words. She glanced at Wallace, searching for some form of explanation, but none came. He was just as perplexed, his brow furrowed in thought.


    ¡°The Bookkeeper is always calculating,¡± Wallace finally said, his voice quiet, contemplative. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t put Eliza in harm¡¯s way unless there¡¯s something more at play. But that doesn¡¯t mean I trust his reasons.¡±


    ¡°He plays the long game,¡± Mia agreed, folding her arms. ¡°But what¡¯s the end goal? Eliza¡¯s strong, but even she could get killed if things go wrong.¡±


    ¡°Let it go,¡± Wallace interrupted, his tone sharp but tinged with worry. ¡°We won¡¯t figure it out by speculating. He¡¯s ten steps ahead of us, as usual.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s irritation deepened as the Bookkeeper tossed a leather-bound volume straight at his head. His reflexes kicked in, catching it effortlessly before it could hit him, but the annoyance was unmistakable.


    ¡°Oh right, if you want to know how The Slayer is doing,¡± the Bookkeeper said with a maddeningly casual tone, his figure already beginning to fade once again. ¡°Read this. It¡¯s not synced with the current events, so you¡¯ll see the beginning, but it''s not like you could intervene anyway.¡± His voice echoed with an unsettling amusement, and in a blink, he vanished into a swirl of butterflies, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer in the air.


    Wallace glared at the spot where the Bookkeeper had disappeared, his patience hanging by a thread. ¡°There¡¯s not enough coffee in the world to deal with today,¡± he muttered under his breath, rubbing the tension from his temples.


    Mia, already exasperated herself, sighed and nodded in agreement. ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± she said, pulling the mysterious book from Wallace¡¯s hands. ¡°Let¡¯s just see how Eliza¡¯s doing before.¡±


    As Mia opened the heavy tome, it seemed to pulse with a strange, ethereal energy, a faint glow emanating from its pages as though it had a life of its own. The surrounding air grew thick with power, and they both felt a slight tremor underfoot, as though the library itself was reacting to the book¡¯s presence.


    Suddenly, the Bookkeeper¡¯s voice emerged from the pages, soft at first, then growing more distinct, as if he were standing right beside them, narrating the events. His words flowed like silk.

 Chapter 32-Pinocchio

    The Slayer prowled through the dimly lit halls, her every step echoing like a death knell. She had already obliterated countless members of Noir, leaving chaos in her wake. Some of their bodies lay twisted on the ground with gaping holes torn through their torsos, while others were reduced to charred husks, their faces forever frozen in agony.


    In terms of sheer destructive power, she was unmatched in the facility, a walking storm of violence. Her long ginger hair flowed wildly as if it had a life of its own, while her striking pink eyes gleamed with lethal intent. Her left eye, concealed beneath a heart-shaped eye patch, hinted at a past shrouded in mystery. Draconic horns curled from her head, casting ominous shadows, and her wings stretched behind her like the cloak of death itself.


    Red scales adorned her arms and hands, shimmering under the flickering lights as she flexed her fingers, anticipating the next kill. She was clad in a sleek black suit, and the contrast of her crimson tie added a sharp edge to her appearance. A sword, secured in its sheath at her waist, pulsed with restrained power, awaiting the moment it would be unleashed once again.


    A figure then emerged, walking down the hallway, an enigma, their gender indeterminate. They wore a striking red mask over their face, and the rest of their body was concealed by a black cloak and layers of dark clothing. Atop their head sat a black straw hat, adding an old-world charm to their mysterious appearance. Around their neck hung a yellow necklace shaped like the sun, and in their hand, they held a golden scepter that gleamed under the torchlight. Their voice, when they spoke, was altered to obscure their identity further. Known only by their codename, The Hummingbird, their real name remained unknown, adding to the aura of mystery that surrounded them.


    ¡°How interesting,¡± Eliza smirked, her voice laced with venom. ¡°A new opponent. You seem stronger than the others.¡±


    The Hummingbird stood before her, an air of detached boredom hanging over them, their gaze sharp but indifferent. ¡°I should finish this quickly,¡± they muttered, voice distorted, dripping with annoyance. ¡°The rest of those idiots have failed.¡±


    ¡°So, you''re the last one,¡± Eliza chuckled darkly, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. ¡°How fun.¡±


    In the blink of an eye, Eliza vanished from her spot, her body a blur as she reappeared in front of the Hummingbird, her fist cocked back, ready to deliver a bone-shattering punch. Her arm launched forward like a bullet, aiming for their skull. But just as her fist was about to make contact, the Hummingbird tilted their head ever so slightly, the punch barely missing its target, slicing through empty air.


    Before Eliza could react, the Hummingbird snapped their fingers, and the world seemed to tremble. A wave of invisible force erupted from them, a violent pulse of sound. It slammed into Eliza with crushing power, sending her careening backward through the air. She gasped, blood spurting from her mouth as she crashed into the ground with a sickening thud.


    ¡°Your offensive and defensive capabilities are¡­ irritating,¡± the Hummingbird''s voice echoed, cold and unfeeling. They walked toward her, their altered voice a distorted hum, almost mechanical. ¡°But my ability can tear through your defenses like paper. And as for your attacks¡ª¡± they paused, a mocking grin forming beneath their mask, ¡°¡ªthey''re just plain old predictable.¡±


    Eliza wiped the blood from her lips, eyes narrowing, her gaze sharp with newfound resolve. The pain was nothing more than fuel to the inferno raging inside her.


    ¡°A sound-based ability, and maybe¡­ hypercognition as well?¡± Eliza grinned viciously, the thrill of battle lighting up her eyes. ¡°Two abilities¡ªridiculously rare unless you''re some kind of monster. And with those two artifacts you''re carrying? You''re definitely the main boss.¡±


    The Hummingbird sighed, their altered voice carrying a trace of weariness. ¡°Another video game fanatic. Just when I was starting to enjoy Calum¡¯s death,¡± they muttered under their breath, almost disappointed.


    Eliza¡¯s grin only widened, the crimson aura swirling around her body like a storm of rage and madness. It crackled with raw energy, dripping with violence. Every step she took toward the Hummingbird felt like a drumbeat of war. ¡°Keep your secrets,¡± she growled. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ll destroy whatever¡¯s in my way.¡± Her aura flared brighter. ¡°Ability: Berserker.¡±


    In an instant, she shot forward, her speed blurring the lines between human and something far more savage. She lashed out with a brutal punch, but the Hummingbird dodged effortlessly, the fist grazing their arm, shredding their sleeve in the process.


    ¡°My next hit will make you bleed,¡± Eliza promised, her voice a low snarl.


    Without missing a beat, she spun, her fist flying with even greater speed and force. This time, it connected more solidly, grazing the Hummingbird¡¯s arm and exposing the cold gleam of metal beneath the torn fabric. Wires dangled from the wound, sparking faintly as the Hummingbird quickly clutched their arm, their expression shifting.


    ¡°Interesting¡­¡± Eliza breathed, eyes widening with twisted excitement. ¡°A robot with that kind of power. That explains your freakishly perfect reflexes. But how the hell do you have an ability?¡±


    The Hummingbird¡¯s eyes narrowed, their expression unreadable behind their mask. ¡°You¡¯re not the first to ask,¡± they replied coldly, their voice as sharp as the sound waves that had sent Eliza flying earlier. ¡°You won¡¯t live long enough to find out.¡±


    The fight between Eliza and Hummingbird escalated in an instant, the tension crackling in the air. Eliza''s berserker aura flared around her, her bloodthirsty grin wide as she sized up the Hummingbird.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got that cane,¡± Eliza said, her voice dripping with anticipation, ¡°but let¡¯s see how well you fight when I get up close.¡±


    Hummingbird remained silent, their gaze cold and calculating. They spun the cane effortlessly in their hand, the air humming as waves of sound energy vibrated through the room. The faint shimmer of their distorted voice echoed. ¡°You''ll regret underestimating me.¡±


    Eliza lunged forward, her speed even greater now as the berserker aura surged through her muscles. Her fist, burning with crimson energy, shot forward, aiming for Hummingbird¡¯s chest. With a swift flick of their wrist, Hummingbird tapped the cane against the ground, sending a powerful sound wave directly toward Eliza. The sheer force of it collided with her, but instead of being knocked back, she gritted her teeth and pushed through, the sound barely slowing her advance.


    ¡°Not enough!¡± Eliza growled, her eyes burning with determination. She closed the gap in a blink, her fist ready to strike.


    But Hummingbird was ready. They sidestepped at the last possible moment, moving with unnatural precision, and swung the cane upward. The end of the cane released a concentrated burst of sound that reverberated through the air, catching Eliza in the ribs. The force was brutal, sending shockwaves through her body. She staggered, coughing up blood, but the crazed smile never left her face.


    ¡°That hurt,¡± Eliza laughed, wiping the blood from her mouth. ¡°But it¡¯s going to take a lot more than that to put me down.¡±


    Hummingbird¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re persistent. I''ll give you that.¡±


    With a flick of the wrist, Hummingbird spun the cane, channeling more power into it. The very air around them began to vibrate, the sound waves intensifying. Hummingbird raised the cane high, and with a sharp, deliberate movement, they slammed it into the ground. The room exploded with a deafening roar, a sonic blast so powerful that the walls quaked, and the floor cracked beneath them. The wave shot forward, aiming to crush Eliza under its overwhelming force.


    But Eliza, in her berserker state, met the attack head-on. Her aura thickened, the madness within her pushing her body beyond its limits. She screamed in defiance, punching straight into the wave of sound. Her fist collided with the invisible force, splitting the wave in two. The energy tore at her body, blood spraying from fresh cuts that appeared along her arms, but she didn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°You think some sound can stop me?¡± she roared, surging forward. ¡°I¡¯ll tear you apart!¡±


    Her fist collided with Hummingbird¡¯s cane, the impact sending sparks of energy flying. The force of the blow was enough to stagger Hummingbird, but they quickly regained their footing, stepping back and swinging the cane in a defensive arc. Another burst of sound followed, but Eliza was relentless, dodging the attack and rushing in with a spinning kick aimed at Hummingbird''s side.


    The kick connected, sending Hummingbird skidding across the floor. They quickly recovered, twirling the cane and planting it firmly on the ground. ¡°You''re stronger than I thought,¡± Hummingbird admitted, their voice calm despite the damage. ¡°But strength alone won''t save you.¡±


    Eliza, her body trembling from the strain of her berserker ability, spat on the ground. ¡°I don¡¯t need saving. I¡¯m here to destroy you.¡±


    The tension in the room grew thick as Eliza¡¯s grin widened, her berserker aura flickering with violent energy. Her breath became shallow, and ragged, but her eyes never left Hummingbird.


    ¡°What an annoying ability,¡± Hummingbird muttered to themselves, their voice barely audible under the hum of power in the air. ¡°Turning madness into raw strength¡­ it seems I¡¯ll have to use all of my power.¡±


    Eliza tilted her head back, a guttural laugh rumbling in her throat. ¡°You think I¡¯ve shown you everything?¡± she spat. Her mouth opened, and with a sudden roar, a torrent of fire erupted from her lips. It was no ordinary flame, the dragon¡¯s fire burned with a heat so intense that the surrounding air distorted. The room lit up in a blazing inferno, the flames barreling straight toward Hummingbird.


    Hummingbird¡¯s eyes widened under their mask. In a swift motion, they slammed their cane into the ground, unleashing a wave of sound meant to counter the incoming fire. The two forces clashed, but the fire continued to push forward, fueled by Eliza''s rage and madness.


    Without hesitation, Hummingbird reached for the necklace around their neck. A brilliant flash of light exploded from it, filling the room with an overwhelming brightness. The searing light pierced through the haze of flame, blinding Eliza mid-attack.


    ¡°Argh!¡± Eliza snarled, stumbling backward as the light overwhelmed her senses. She thrashed, shielding her eyes with her arms as her fire sputtered and died. Her berserker rage fought to overpower the sudden blindness, but the light was merciless, cutting through her focus.


    Hummingbird seized the opportunity. They spun their cane, the soundwaves amplifying as the very air around them began to vibrate violently. They aimed for Eliza, launching another concentrated blast of sound, the force crashing into her like a tidal wave. Eliza grunted as the impact sent her skidding across the floor, her body rattling from the force of the blow.


    But even blind, even wounded, Eliza refused to yield. ¡°You think¡­ light¡¯s gonna stop me?¡± she growled, pushing herself to her feet. Her body shook with fury, her berserker aura flaring brighter as her sight began to return. She coughed, blood staining her lips, but her grin never faltered.


    Hummingbird twirled the cane once more, readying their next move. ¡°I¡¯m just getting started,¡± they said, their voice a cold, distorted hum beneath the chaos.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to break you, you damn Pinocchio,¡± Eliza growled, her eyes wild with fury as her berserker aura crackled around her.


    Hummingbird¡¯s head tilted slightly, their red mask hiding most of their expression, but their voice betrayed a flicker of confusion. ¡°Pinocchio? How did you know that''s what my creator named me?¡±


    Eliza froze for a second, her rage faltering. She blinked, caught off guard. ¡°I¡ªI was insulting you.¡±


    ¡°Insulting?¡± Hummingbird¡¯s tone shifted, sounding almost wounded. ¡°My name is an insult?¡±


    Eliza hesitated, her fists lowering slightly. ¡°Just¡­ forget it. Damn, this is awkward.¡±


    But Hummingbird wasn¡¯t about to let it go. They stood there, motionless for a moment, before their voice, once calm and detached, cracked with emotion. ¡°My name is an insult¡­ insult¡­ insult¡­ How dare you,¡± they seethed, the distortion in their voice deepening with each repetition. ¡°How dare you besmirch the beautiful name my creator graciously gave me.¡±


    Without warning, Hummingbird removed their cloak and hat, revealing the full extent of their mechanical form. Their body was sleek, made of polished metal and gears that clicked and whirred with every subtle movement. Despite the artificiality of their design, there was an eerie elegance to them, like a perfect doll brought to life. They still wore a black button-up shirt, meticulously tailored to fit their angular frame, with black dress pants and polished black dress shoes completing the almost disturbingly human-like appearance. But the red mask covering their face remained in place, the one vivid reminder that whatever Hummingbird or, Pinocchio, was, it wasn¡¯t human.


    The atmosphere shifted as Hummingbird¡¯s mechanical body stood in stark contrast to Eliza¡¯s raw, flesh-and-blood ferocity. ¡°You dare mock the name Pinocchio?¡± they hissed, their voice trembling with rage, the once calm and cold persona cracking under the weight of their fury. ¡°My creator cherished me, and I am perfect!¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes narrowed as the tension spiked once more. ¡°Oh, this just got a whole lot weirder,¡± she muttered under her breath, but the thrill of battle surged through her again. ¡°Doesn''t matter what you''re called. You''re going down all the same.¡±


    The tension in the room thickened as Pinocchio stood, mechanical limbs gleaming under the dim lights, the fury in their voice still echoing. Their hands twitched, fingers tightening around the cane as they muttered, ¡°You dare mock perfection? Then I will show you what true power looks like.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s body tensed, the fire in her eyes glowing hotter. ¡°Come on, you doll-faced freak,¡± she snarled, the berserker energy around her flaring.


    With a sudden click, several compartments within Pinocchio¡¯s arms and legs popped open, revealing hidden weapons embedded in their mechanical frame. Thin blades extended from their forearms, gleaming as if freshly sharpened, while small, sleek barrels jutted from their shoulders, humming with energy. Tiny circular saws whirred within their palms, ready to tear through anything they touched.


    Eliza¡¯s eyes flicked over the weapons, and a twisted grin stretched across her face. ¡°Now we¡¯re talking!¡±


    Pinocchio wasted no time. They surged forward, their body moving faster than before, sound waves rippling off their frame as they closed the distance between them. The whirring saws sliced through the air, aiming directly for Eliza¡¯s midsection.


    Eliza ducked at the last second, her enhanced reflexes allowing her to narrowly avoid the blades. She spun on her heels, launching a punch at Pinocchio¡¯s side. But before her fist could connect, Pinocchio¡¯s shoulder-mounted cannons fired off a burst of sound, sending her stumbling back from the sheer force.


    ¡°I¡¯ll break you apart, piece by piece,¡± Pinocchio intoned coldly, their voice devoid of the previous anger. They were in battle mode now, efficient, precise, and deadly.


    Eliza barely had time to regain her footing before Pinocchio¡¯s next strike came. They lunged, blades flashing as they aimed for her throat. Eliza twisted, the tip of the blade grazing her neck but not cutting deep. She retaliated with a roar, her throat igniting with dragon''s fire as she unleashed another torrent of flame.


    Pinocchio countered with a wall of sound, the flames flickering wildly in response but unable to reach their target. Pinocchio then dashed forward, bringing the saws on their palms down toward Eliza¡¯s head.


    Eliza, now fully immersed in her berserker state, caught the blades mid-strike with her bare hands, the metal screeching as it struggled against her raw strength. She grinned through gritted teeth, her eyes wild. ¡°You''re tough, but not enough.¡±


    With a roar, she pushed Pinocchio back, forcing them to retreat a few steps. Before they could recover, Eliza opened her mouth wide and expelled a blast of dragon fire straight toward them.


    Pinocchio staggered under the intensity of the flames, the heat warping the surrounding air. But as the fire licked at their form, a bright light suddenly erupted from their chest¡ªPinocchio had activated their necklace. The blinding flash filled the room once more, burning through Eliza¡¯s vision and forcing her to stumble back, momentarily disoriented.


    Taking advantage of her disarray, Pinocchio''s hidden blades retracted, and they launched a rapid series of strikes, their mechanical limbs moving with impossible precision. They slashed at Eliza''s sides, tore at her defenses, and delivered bone-crushing punches, each one enhanced by the vibrations from their sound-based attacks.


    Eliza grunted in pain as the strikes connected, blood spraying from new wounds, but each hit only seemed to enrage her further. Her berserker aura flared brighter, and she roared as the madness overtook her completely. ¡°You can¡¯t stop me! I¡¯ll burn you to ash!¡±


    Despite her blinded state, Eliza¡¯s raw power surged, the flames within her throat igniting once more. She released another blast of dragon''s fire in every direction, the sheer force of the flames shaking the very foundations of the room.


    Pinocchio skidded back, narrowly avoiding the full brunt of the attack. But now, their once pristine suit was singed, their mechanical limbs showing signs of wear from the heat. Yet even in the face of Eliza¡¯s overwhelming power, they stood tall, their calm demeanor never faltering.


    The air grew thick with tension as Pinocchio¡¯s mechanical body hummed, their weapons primed for another round. But as Eliza stood there, a feral grin stretching across her blood-smeared face, something darker began to stir. The room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.


    ¡°This fight isn¡¯t over yet,¡± Pinocchio whispered, their cold voice carrying an eerie calm as their limbs clicked, and the hidden weapons shimmered under the faint light. Each of their movements was precise, and calculated, a testament to their mechanical perfection.


    Eliza chuckled, low and guttural. ¡°Good. Neither am I.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, but there was something more¡ªa sudden shift in the atmosphere, a storm gathering around her. She lifted her head, and her eyes, now glowing with crimson madness, locked onto Pinocchio¡¯s.


    ¡°Those artifacts of yours,¡± she growled, pacing slowly, her voice dripping with malevolent excitement, ¡°they¡¯re fun. But I can tell, neither of them are grade 0, are they?¡±


    Pinocchio remained silent, the red mask covering any expression they might have had. But beneath the mask, something flickered. A hint of wariness, perhaps?


    Eliza raised a hand to the blade at her waist, her fingers trembling with anticipation. The surrounding air began to swirl, dark and violent, as if reality itself bent to her will. Her voice, steady and deliberate, began to chant, each word carrying an ancient power that reverberated through the room.


    ¡°Oh, king of kings, I beckon your power.¡±


    Pinocchio¡¯s mechanical eyes widened ever so slightly, gears clicking as they instinctively shifted into a more defensive stance. They knew, something powerful was coming.


    ¡°Let your might pierce the heavens,¡± Eliza continued, her voice rising. ¡°Let your light blind the stars.¡±


    The ground beneath her began to tremble, faint at first, but growing stronger with each passing moment. The sheer force of the aura gathering around her was suffocating, oppressive. It was unlike anything Pinocchio had ever encountered.


    ¡°From the sacred stone to my hand, I call your name.¡±


    Pinocchio¡¯s gaze flickered to the blade at Eliza¡¯s side, their sensors picking up an immense energy radiating from it. They could feel it, something ancient, something beyond comprehension, stirring within.


    ¡°By your ancient oath, arise from slumber,¡± Eliza''s voice boomed, her eyes burning with a holy light as she gripped the hilt of the sword. ¡°And once more, cleave the skies with justice and light.¡±


    Pinocchio''s systems were now in overdrive, processing every possible outcome of the next few seconds, calculating the risks. But there was no data for what was about to unfold. This¡­ this was a power beyond logic.


    ¡°Grade 0 artifact,¡± Eliza declared, her voice filled with raw ecstasy. ¡°Excalibur, awaken!¡±


    In one swift motion, she unsheathed the blade from its scabbard, and the world itself seemed to shudder in response. The instant the sword was freed, an explosion of light filled the room, so bright and pure that it seemed to burn away everything in its path. The radiance wasn¡¯t just blinding, it was oppressive, as though the very essence of the weapon was pushing against reality itself.


    Pinocchio staggered, their sensors overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the light. Their mechanical frame, designed to withstand immense pressure and force, groaned under the weight of Excalibur¡¯s presence. The sound of twisting metal and straining gears echoed as Pinocchio¡¯s body struggled to maintain balance in the face of such raw, untamed power.


    The sword itself was breathtaking, a long, gleaming blade that seemed to hum with ancient energy. Its surface shimmered like molten gold, and flames of radiant light danced along its edges, casting shadows that flickered like living beings. The hilt was intricately designed, adorned with symbols of a forgotten age, each one pulsing with a heartbeat of its own.


    Eliza grinned, the berserker madness now fully intertwined with the power of Excalibur. Her body surged with renewed strength, the crimson aura around her blazing even brighter as the sword¡¯s power coursed through her veins. ¡°You feel that? This is the might of a true artifact¡ªa blade meant to cut down anything in its path!¡±


    With a sudden movement, she swung Excalibur downward. The force of the swing alone caused the air to ripple, and a wave of burning light exploded from the blade, tearing through the room like a storm of fire and lightning.


    Pinocchio barely had time to react. They dove to the side, but even their enhanced speed couldn¡¯t fully escape the wrath of Excalibur. The edge of the light wave clipped their shoulder, sending sparks flying as the metal of their arm was sheared away, exposing a mass of wires and circuitry.


    A sharp, distorted gasp escaped Pinocchio as they stumbled, clutching their damaged arm. For the first time in the fight, they felt vulnerable. ¡°This¡­ this is impossible¡­¡±


    Eliza didn¡¯t relent. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Pinocchio? Not so perfect now, are you?¡± She raised Excalibur once more, the light surrounding the blade crackling with destructive energy.


    Pinocchio¡¯s gaze flickered towards their cane, the artifact still gripped tightly in their hand. They had to act fast. Their mechanical voice, now tinged with desperation, whispered, ¡°I must counter¡­ now.¡±


    They slammed the tip of the cane against the ground, sending out a wave of sound, stronger than anything they had used before. The shockwave pulsed through the room, causing the walls to tremble and the air to vibrate with deadly intensity.


    But Eliza, now emboldened by Excalibur¡¯s power, merely grinned wider. ¡°Sound? You think sound is going to stop this?¡± She swung the blade, and the light from Excalibur tore through the soundwave as if it were nothing, dispersing it into harmless ripples.


    The battle raged on, Excalibur¡¯s light casting eerie shadows across the room, painting the walls with fierce streaks of radiant fire. Eliza¡¯s feral grin seemed to stretch impossibly wide as she prepared to swing the sword once more, its divine energy crackling with destructive potential.


    Suddenly, a voice, clear and commanding, shattered the chaos. ¡°Excalibur!¡±


    The room¡¯s oppressive heat and blinding light faltered as the words echoed through the air. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Time seemed to slow, and the very essence of reality quivered in anticipation.


    From above, as if summoned by divine will, a figure descended with a grace that defied the laws of physics. The man appeared amidst a crackle of energy, like a bolt of lightning descending from the clearest blue sky. His entrance was nothing short of otherworldly, a flash of brilliance cutting through the tumultuous scene.


    His long, golden hair flowed behind him, a shimmering cascade that danced with each movement. Crimson eyes, glowing with a malevolent intensity, scanned the battlefield with an air of cold authority. The sheer force of his presence was palpable, an oppressive aura that blanketed the room and twisted the air with an almost tangible dread.


    Eliza¡¯s sword halted mid-swing as she looked up, her eyes widening with a mix of awe and alarm. The oppressive power emanating from the newcomer was unlike anything she had ever encountered. The light from Excalibur dimmed in comparison to the overwhelming aura that surrounded the man.


    Pinocchio, already struggling under the relentless assault, looked up, their mechanical frame freezing in stunned silence. Every component of their body seemed to hum with anxious energy as they processed the intrusion.


    The man¡¯s descent was effortless, his feet touching the ground with a fluid, almost ethereal motion. He landed softly, yet the impact seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of the room, a subtle but undeniable force that bent the surrounding air.


    ¡°Be afraid, be very afraid,¡± The Boogeyman¡¯s voice echoed with chilling finality. ¡°For the only thing you should fear in this world is fear itself. And I am its embodiment.¡±

 Chapter 33-Mordred

    The air thickened with tension as both Eliza and Pinocchio froze, eyes wide with fear, watching the man descend from the sky. His presence was suffocating, casting a shadow over the flickering lights in the trembling hallway. The ground itself seemed to recoil at his arrival, cracks forming beneath their feet as the weight of his power pressed down on them.


    ¡°Sir¡­ w-why are you here?¡± Pinocchio¡¯s voice wavered, a rare crack in their usually calculated tone. ¡°There''s no need to concern yourself with this one¡ªI can handle it,¡± they added, desperation leaking into their plea.


    The Boogeyman¡¯s gaze snapped to Pinocchio with an icy intensity, and in an instant, he vanished from the air. A rush of wind was all the warning they received before he appeared before them. His movements were almost too fast to comprehend, and before Pinocchio could react, his hand wrapped around their damaged arm.


    Without a word, he tore it from their body. It came off with the ease of tearing a sheet of paper, wires, and circuits snapping like brittle twine. Sparks flew, casting a brief, chaotic light around the room, while the sound of metal screeching and cracking filled the air.


    ¡°While you''re still in a condition to be fixed¡­ retreat,¡± he ordered, his voice cold but laced with a smoldering anger. ¡°This one is mine.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, of course¡­ I''ll escape now,¡± Pinocchio stammered, before turning and running without hesitation, sparks from their severed arm trailing behind.


    The Boogeyman watched them disappear down the corridor, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Maybe I should kill them¡­ no, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ve got a good deal with that Russian bastard. No need to ruin things,¡± he muttered, almost as if weighing the pros and cons in his mind. His voice carried a casual cruelty, indifferent to the chaos he had just inflicted.


    His eyes shifted to Eliza, scanning her from head to toe. His gaze lingered on the sword at her waist and the horns protruding from her head. In an instant, he vanished from his spot and appeared directly in front of her, gripping one of her horns with unnatural strength, his fingers digging into the ridged surface.


    ¡°That¡¯s Excalibur, right? Right?¡± he demanded, his voice cracking with a sudden, uncharacteristic desperation.


    Eliza¡¯s breath hitched, her heart pounding as she fought to remain composed. ¡°Y-yes, it is. My signature artifact,¡± she managed, swallowing her fear, though it trembled at the edges of her voice.


    The Boogeyman leaned closer, his eyes narrowing with a gleam of obsession. ¡°Tell me¡­ are these horns from a dragon?¡±


    ¡°They are,¡± she spat, anger rising despite the terror gripping her chest. ¡°Why is a bastard like you so interested?¡±


    His grip tightened, a dark thrill evident in his tone. ¡°One last question, and answer me now, what type of dragon are you?¡±


    Eliza blinked, confusion briefly clouding her mind. ¡°What¡­ what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°When you use your breath attack,¡± he hissed, his voice rising with impatience, ¡°what element comes out?¡±


    Eliza hesitated, her throat dry. ¡°F-fire.¡±


    Without warning, his grip turned vicious, and with a sickening crunch, her horn shattered in his hand. Shards of bone and scale scattered to the floor, each one a piece of her power, her pride. Eliza gasped, her eyes widening in shock as the realization hit her.


    ¡°Good. That¡¯s good,¡± the Boogeyman murmured, more to himself than to her, his gaze distant as if piecing together some puzzle only he could see. ¡°If a light dragonoid wielding Excalibur had shown up, I might¡¯ve actually vomited.¡± His lips curled into a twisted smirk. ¡°You¡¯re close, very close, but you¡¯re not him. Good news for you, though¡­ you get to die painlessly.¡±


    He paused, his smile growing crueler. ¡°Well, to a degree.¡±


    In a split second, driven by raw desperation, Eliza swung Excalibur with all her might. The blade ignited with a brilliant, blinding light, its edge cutting through the air like a streak of lightning. The sword cleaved through the Boogeyman¡¯s neck effortlessly, his head severed in a flash of divine radiance. For a brief, suspended moment, the head flew upward, spiraling into the air, before the body crumpled to the ground with a lifeless thud.


    Eliza¡¯s chest heaved as she watched in disbelief, her fingers tightening around the hilt of Excalibur.  Her eyes flicked between the fallen body and the severed head, still airborne. Relief was just within reach when the grotesque reality set in.


    Before the head could land, it disintegrated¡ªturning into a writhing mass of maggots midair. The maggots slithered, crawling toward the body in a grotesque dance of rebirth. They converged on the neck, squirming and fusing together, reforming the Boogeyman¡¯s head in an unnatural, sickening display. His body twitched, and in moments, he was whole again.


    From the ground, he began to laugh, deep, vicious, and chilling. It was the sound of something inhuman, reveling in his own monstrosity.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s rich!¡± he cackled, his voice echoing through the trembling hallway. ¡°Hilarious, even!¡± His eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he rose to his feet, the smile on his face widening into something manic. ¡°Do you know what the first thing that bastard did to me was?¡± he growled, taking a step toward her, his tone growing darker. ¡°He cut my head off.¡±


    He chuckled again, the sound growing increasingly deranged. ¡°Funny how history repeats itself, isn¡¯t it?¡± His lips curled into a sneer as he wiped a hand across his newly reformed neck. ¡°Except, back then, he didn¡¯t have Excalibur. But you¡ªyou wield it, and yet¡­ you¡¯re still nothing like him.¡± His eyes flared with malice, his laughter growing more menacing with each passing second. ¡°I¡¯m growing to hate you more and more.¡±


    The ground seemed to shudder beneath Eliza¡¯s feet as the weight of his presence bore down on her once again. Any semblance of triumph she had felt evaporated, replaced by a cold, sinking dread. The Boogeyman¡¯s laughter echoed in her ears, mocking her futile attempt to resist him.


    ¡°Come on,¡± the Boogeyman taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic anticipation. ¡°I want to see you struggle. Show me if you possess any other traits like that damn bastard.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s blood boiled at his words, her body trembling not with fear, but with the rage she had kept at bay. She let out a low growl, feeling the familiar heat rise within her. In an instant, the crimson aura of her Berserker ability flared to life around her, wrapping her in an intense, burning light. The aura twisted and flickered like living flames, its energy surging through her muscles, amplifying her strength, her speed, and her very will to fight.


    Without hesitation, she lunged at the Boogeyman, Excalibur blazing in her hand. Her first strike was a blur of motion as the blade sliced through his chest, cleaving him in two from shoulder to hip. His body split apart, but no blood flowed¡ªonly writhing, twisting shadows that churned within him. Before his body even hit the ground, it began to stitch itself back together, the shadows pulling the torn flesh into place.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± the Boogeyman hissed, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight as his body reformed. ¡°But you''re going to have to try harder.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes burned with fury. She didn''t wait for him to fully regenerate¡ªbefore his limbs could reassemble, she swung again, this time aiming for his legs. The crimson energy around her surged, and Excalibur howled as it cleaved through his knees, severing them cleanly. His legs fell to the floor, twitching grotesquely, but before they were even still, they were already wriggling back toward his body, reforming with a sickening squelch.


    Her breath came out in ragged bursts, but she wasn¡¯t done. Flames began to gather in her chest, rising through her throat like a furnace. With a roar, she unleashed a torrent of fire from her mouth, the searing heat engulfing the Boogeyman. The flames consumed him, turning the hallway into an inferno, the walls buckling under the intensity of the heat. His skin blistered and peeled away, revealing charred bone beneath, but even as his flesh burned, he laughed.


    ¡°Yes¡­ that''s it!¡± he howled through the flames, his voice giddy with madness. ¡°Burn me! Tear me apart! It won''t stop me.¡±


    His body was nothing but ash and bones, but the remnants of his form writhed with life. Slowly, impossibly, the bones reassembled, muscle and sinew crawling back over them like worms. His skin stretched back into place, blackened and cracked, but whole once again.


    Eliza didn¡¯t hesitate, her aura flaring brighter as her rage fueled her movements. She dashed forward, swinging Excalibur again, cutting him in half at the waist. His torso collapsed to the ground, but his upper half began to drag itself forward, reforming with every pull. She gritted her teeth, slashing again, and again, cutting him apart over and over, but each time his body reformed, more grotesque, more monstrous.


    The hallway echoed with the sickening sounds of his regeneration, each attack feeding the Boogeyman¡¯s twisted amusement.


    ¡°Your fighting style is so¡­ inelegant,¡± the Boogeyman sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°It''s even more unrefined than when I first met that bastard. Shouldn¡¯t that damn blade of yours have taught you how to fight?¡± His gaze flicked toward Excalibur, his lips curling into a twisted smirk. ¡°What do you think, Mordred? This is a disappointment compared to him, right?¡±


    Eliza¡¯s brow furrowed as she steadied herself, trying to process his words. ¡°Mordred¡­ who are you talking to?¡± she questioned, but something in her gut warned her not to linger on the thought. There was no time to unravel his cryptic taunts. Her grip tightened on Excalibur, and with a fierce cry, she rushed at him once more, determined to break through his maddening regeneration. Even if it took hours, even if it took everything she had, he would eventually fall.


    But before she could close the distance, the Boogeyman¡¯s voice rose, booming with dark, ritualistic power, stopping her mid-stride.


    ¡°Oh slayer of kings,¡± he intoned, his voice like a death knell reverberating through the air. ¡°I beckon your power. Let your night consume the heavens. Let your darkness engulf the stars. From father¡¯s corpse to my hand, I call your name.¡±


    Eliza froze, her heart pounding as she watched a strange energy gather around him. His eyes blazed with a terrifying, dark light, and he reached out as though seizing something from the void itself.


    ¡°By your ancient oath, arise from slumber,¡± he roared, his voice shaking the very walls around them. His hand gripped the air, and from nothingness, a blade began to take shape¡ªno, not just a blade, but an abyss in the form of a weapon. ¡°And once more, cleave the skies with blood and darkness.¡±


    The Boogeyman¡¯s laughter rang out, his eyes glowing with the black light of malevolence as he whispered the final words.


    ¡°Awaken, Mordred.¡±


    A blade of pure darkness materialized, its form devouring all light that dared come near it. It was as though the sword was made of the night itself, swallowing the glow of Excalibur and everything else around them. The very air grew heavier, as if the world was holding its breath.


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    The sword was an inverse of Excalibur, where Eliza¡¯s weapon gleamed with brilliant, golden light, this new blade radiated only shadow and despair. It felt wrong, a distortion of everything Excalibur stood for.


    Eliza gritted her teeth, forcing herself to push forward, even as the blade¡¯s oppressive aura made her blood run cold. She couldn¡¯t let it intimidate her. Whatever this ¡°Mordred¡± was, whatever power the Boogeyman had called forth, she knew one thing: she had to keep fighting.


    Forcing the chill from her bones, she raised Excalibur once more, the light of her sword flickering defiantly against the encroaching darkness.


    ¡°Damn it, part of me actually misses that bastard,¡± The Boogeyman muttered, his grip tightening around Mordred, the sword¡¯s dark energy pulsating faintly. He turned the blade slightly, as though expecting it to respond. ¡°Right, Mordred? In this era, all we have are trashy disappointments.¡±


    Eliza watched in disgust as he hugged the blade to his chest like a long-lost lover. The sight was unnerving, the way he cradled the weapon as though it were alive, something he cherished above all else. His face twisted into a grotesque grin, his voice slipping into something disturbingly tender.


    ¡°I wish you had a real body,¡± The Boogeyman hummed, his fingers stroking the blade. ¡°It would be so much fun to be with you, Mordred. Think of all the things we could do¡­¡±


    Eliza gritted her teeth, a shiver running down her spine. *This man is batshit crazy¡­ Is he really the strongest known monster?*


    The Boogeyman¡¯s head suddenly snapped toward her, as if he¡¯d heard her thoughts. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge. ¡°You know, I really hate that stupid name you humans gave me¡ª¡®The Boogeyman.¡¯ How dull. My name is Faker.¡± His eyes narrowed with disdain. ¡°Honestly, I might just spare you so you can update your damn records.¡±


    Faker. Eliza held onto the name, the weight of it sinking in. But before she could react, she blurted out the question that had been gnawing at her since the fight began. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask¡ªyou¡¯ve been going on and on about some dragonoid who wielded Excalibur, someone you clearly despise. What kind of person could invoke so much wrath from you?¡±


    At the mention of the dragonoid, Faker''s smile faltered, darkening into something far more sinister. His eyes gleamed with malice as he glanced at Mordred. ¡°Oh, that bastard?¡± He chuckled, but it wasn¡¯t out of amusement, it was bitterness. ¡°Yeah, him. Hey, Mordred, how many times did he kill me, huh? Really chopped me up good, didn¡¯t he?¡± His fingers drummed on the hilt of the sword as though recalling some sick nostalgia. ¡°I regenerated so many times. He almost did it¡ªalmost. But not quite.¡±


    Faker turned away, talking to the sword like it was his only confidant. ¡°I wish I could have another swing at him¡­¡±


    Eliza saw her opening. As Faker¡¯s back was turned, she called forth her Berserker aura, crimson flames enveloping her form like a blood-soaked storm. Her body surged with energy, the very air around her vibrating with the intensity of her will. This was her moment.


    She lunged, Excalibur blazing with radiant light, the blade glowing so fiercely it was as though the sun itself had descended into her hands. All her strength, all her power, concentrated into one single, devastating blow. She would obliterate him. She had to.


    But just as she moved, a memory flashed in her mind.


    ¡°I want you to wield this artifact, 0-12 Excalibur. It feeds off the willpower of its user,¡± Alexander Jones, the leader of A.E.G.I.S, had said, standing before a younger Eliza. In his hands, he held the legendary blade, its golden scabbard shimmering in the dim light.


    The weight of his words had filled the room. ¡°The stronger the will, the stronger the energy. I know you can use it to its full power.¡±


    Eliza had hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. ¡°But, sir, I¡¯ve only been on one mission. Are you sure it¡¯s alright to give me something this powerful?¡±


    Alexander had smiled, a confident gleam in his eyes. ¡°On your first mission, you greatly assisted me in slaying a dragon. That is why I gave you the codename ¡®Slayer.¡¯ Even the strongest of monsters will fall at your hands. I knew it from the day I met you.¡± His voice had softened, but the belief in his tone was unshakable. ¡°I believe in your potential, Eliza.¡±


    The memory ignited her spirit. As her blade descended on Faker, she channeled every ounce of her willpower into the strike. The surrounding aura flared, red flames dancing with the brilliance of Excalibur¡¯s light. This wasn¡¯t just her fight, it was the culmination of everything she had been trained for.


    As Eliza rushed forward, Excalibur raised high for a strike, an eye¡ªa bloodshot, grotesque thing, suddenly opened on the back of Faker¡¯s neck. It swiveled toward her, unblinking, tracking her every movement. Before her blade could connect, Faker spun with unnatural speed, raising Mordred to meet her strike. The two blades clashed, light and darkness colliding with a force that sent sparks flying through the air.


    ¡°How rude,¡± Faker sneered, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯m trying to have a conversation with my dear Mordred, and you decide to interrupt.¡± His voice was laced with anger, but there was something deeper, a possessive, almost fanatical edge. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d mind your manners.¡±


    Eliza gritted her teeth, her anger boiling over. ¡°You¡¯re one crazy bastard, talking to a sword like it¡¯s a real person!¡± she spat, her voice filled with frustration. She shifted her stance, moving with lightning speed as she aimed another strike at his side, her body a blur of motion as her Berserker aura flared brighter.


    But Faker parried her attack with ease, Mordred''s dark blade absorbing the energy of each of her strikes. He barely moved, his form eerily still as he blocked every swing with maddening precision. The surrounding air seemed to ripple with his aura, like a shadow devouring the light.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know,¡± Faker said, his voice almost teasing, ¡°my lovely Mordred is real. You just can¡¯t hear her voice, but I can.¡± His eyes gleamed with obsession as he spoke, as though the sword was whispering secrets only he could understand. ¡°She and I are bound. She tells me everything.¡±


    With a sharp movement, Eliza finally landed a hit, her blade slicing clean through his legs. Faker crumpled to the ground, his severed limbs hitting the floor with a sickening thud. For a moment, she thought she had the upper hand. But just as she prepared to deliver the final blow, something shifted.


    As Faker¡¯s body hit the ground, it didn¡¯t stay. His form dissolved into the shadows, sinking into the darkness beneath him. Eliza¡¯s strike came down hard, but her sword met nothing but stone. The blade cracked the floor, sending shards of debris flying, but Faker was gone.


    She barely had a moment to react before the shadows slithered across the ground, creeping up the walls, snaking their way through the cracks in the floor. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for any sign of movement. Then, like a phantom, Faker reappeared, stepping out of the shadows at the far end of the room, whole again, standing tall with Mordred in hand.


    ¡°Did you really think it would be that easy?¡± Faker¡¯s voice was taunting, echoing through the chamber like a dark wind. ¡°I¡¯ve survived worse than this. Your little tricks won¡¯t be enough to kill me.¡±


    ¡°Use your breath attack next. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve faced one,¡± Faker taunted, a sinister gleam in his eyes as dark energy began to coalesce in his throat. The atmosphere shifted, the room growing colder, the shadows around him thickening and pulsing as if alive. His voice dripped with anticipation, eager for what was to come.


    Eliza''s heart pounded in her chest. She recognized the threat instantly, the unmistakable aura of a dragon''s power brewing within him. There was no time to hesitate. Flames gathered in her throat, burning hotter and hotter until the heat threatened to consume her from the inside. She let it out in a fierce roar, a torrent of searing fire blazing from her mouth, a stream of raw elemental fury.


    ¡°Shadow Dragon¡­ roar!¡± Faker''s voice boomed, his mouth opening wide as an abyss of pure darkness erupted from within him.


    The two forces collided, Eliza¡¯s fiery breath against Faker¡¯s shadowy torrent. The clash was deafening, the heat of her flames clashing violently with the icy void of his dark breath. For a moment, they were evenly matched, light and darkness battling for dominance in a storm of energy that shook the surrounding walls. Sparks and embers filled the air, the ground cracking beneath the pressure of their power.


    But then the balance shifted.


    Faker''s darkness surged forward, consuming her flames with terrifying speed. The fire that had once roared with life was snuffed out, swallowed by the black void like a candle in a storm. The wave of darkness crashed into Eliza, knocking her off her feet and sending her flying across the room. She hit the ground hard, her body skidding along the floor as the thick, malevolent miasma surrounded her, clinging to her like a deathly shroud.


    She gasped for air, coughing violently as the darkness seemed to sap the life from her very being. It felt as though her strength was being drained, her energy slipping away with each breath she took. The miasma was suffocating, thick, and poisonous as if it were trying to devour her soul. Her vision blurred, her body trembling under the weight of the attack.


    ¡°Oops,¡± Faker said, his tone mocking, his grin wide and malicious. ¡°Did I forget to mention? I¡¯m also part Shadow Dragon.¡± He chuckled, stepping forward, the surrounding shadows swirling like a living entity. ¡°Though, to be fair, I¡¯m part of all things. I can transform into most creatures.¡± His eyes gleamed with a sick sort of pride, his body shifting slightly, as if the shadows themselves were a part of him.


    ¡°But the Shadow Dragon? That one¡¯s my favorite.¡± His voice lowered, becoming almost reverent. ¡°It¡¯s the absolute opposite of the wretched bastard I¡¯ve been telling you about.¡±


    Eliza struggled to rise, the weight of his miasma still bearing down on her. Every muscle in her body screamed in pain, but her resolve burned brighter than ever. She couldn''t let him win. Not like this.


    Faker watched her struggle with a smug grin, his twisted amusement growing. ¡°Oh, come now, Slayer. Surely you can do better than that. After all, you¡¯re wielding Excalibur, aren¡¯t you? Let¡¯s see if that damn blade has any real bite left.¡±


    The room was a battlefield of light and darkness, the air thick with the remnants of their earlier clash. Eliza, her breathing labored, slowly pulled herself to her feet, her resolve hardening despite the darkness that clung to her. Faker¡¯s mocking laughter echoed around her, a chilling reminder of the twisted game he was playing.


    ¡°Come on, Slayer,¡± Faker taunted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. ¡°You¡¯re still standing? I¡¯m impressed. Most would have crumbled by now.¡±


    Eliza gritted her teeth, ignoring the pain and the lingering effects of the shadowy miasma. She raised Excalibur once more, its light flickering defiantly against the encroaching darkness. Her crimson aura flared around her, burning brighter with every ounce of her willpower. The fire in her eyes reflected the flames of her determination.


    Without warning, Faker lunged forward, Mordred sweeping through the air with a dark, sinuous grace. Eliza met his attack head-on, their blades clashing in a fierce exchange of light and shadow. Sparks flew as Excalibur met Mordred, each strike reverberating through the room with an almost tangible force.


    Faker¡¯s movements were fluid, almost unnatural, as he anticipated her every strike. His dark blade seemed to consume the very light of Excalibur, the shadows around him twisting and writhing with each parry. He grinned as he effortlessly blocked her blows, his voice a mocking melody in the chaos of their combat.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± he jeered. ¡°Come on, show me your true power! Or are you just another disappointment?¡±


    Eliza¡¯s heart pounded with each clash, her determination unwavering. She could feel the strain on her body, the fatigue setting in, but she pushed through, channeling every ounce of her strength into her attacks. Each swing of Excalibur was a testament to her will, every block and parry a fight for her survival.


    In a swift, brutal maneuver, Faker spun around, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. Eliza barely had time to react. His dark blade struck Excalibur with a force that resonated through her entire being. There was a shattering sound, a crack like thunder, as the once-unbreakable blade of Excalibur splintered under the force of Mordred¡¯s relentless assault.


    ¡°No!¡± Eliza cried out, her voice a mixture of shock and anguish as she saw the legendary blade crack and fragment. The pieces of Excalibur fell to the ground, a cascade of shattered light and metal. Her grip faltered, the loss of the blade¡¯s strength leaving her vulnerable.


    Faker¡¯s eyes gleamed with triumph. With a sudden, brutal swing, Mordred cleaved through the air, aiming directly at Eliza¡¯s right arm. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, slicing through flesh and bone with terrifying ease. Eliza gasped, a sharp cry of pain escaping her lips as her arm was severed from her body. The pain was blinding, a fiery, searing agony that left her disoriented.


    She fell to the ground, clutching the bloody stump where her arm had been, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Faker stood over her, his expression a mix of satisfaction and cruelty. The shattered remains of Excalibur lay scattered around them, the once-glorious blade now reduced to broken shards.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Faker said, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°Looks like I¡¯ve made my point. You fought bravely, but in the end, you¡¯re just another disappointment.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s vision blurred, the edges of her consciousness growing dark as the pain threatened to overwhelm her. But even in her agony, her spirit remained unbroken. She glared up at Faker, her eyes blazing with defiance, refusing to let him see her surrender.


    ¡°No, no, I won¡¯t let it end here,¡± Eliza gasped, her voice a strained whisper against the cacophony of her own pain. With trembling fingers, she clutched the jagged remnants of Excalibur''s hilt, as blood oozed from her severed arm. Her gaze, fierce and unyielding, locked onto Faker¡¯s figure, a fire of defiance igniting in her eyes despite the darkness closing in around her. ¡°I will see this fight through to the end¡­ no matter the cost.¡±

 Chapter 34-Playtime

    Maxwell sat alone upon the grand stage, bathed in the harsh glow of the overhead lights. The spotlight carved him out of the surrounding darkness, casting long, jagged shadows that stretched across the empty auditorium seats. Silence filled the room, an unsettling quiet that hung in the air like the calm before a storm. His wings were folded behind him, sleek and dark, their presence barely noticeable in the flickering light.


    Without warning, the seats began to fill. One by one, rows of crude, humanoid figures appeared in the dim light, their bodies stiff and mechanical. Mannequins. Each one moved with an eerie, jerking motion as if held together by invisible strings, their porcelain faces twisted into grotesque smiles.


    The soldiers'' expressions were disturbingly childish, their faces painted with crude, uneven strokes, as if hastily drawn by a child. Their eyes were wide and vacant, mismatched and lopsided, while jagged smiles stretched unnaturally across their porcelain faces, giving them an eerie, mocking appearance. Dressed in sleek black uniforms that mimicked military attire, they wore stiff, buttoned jackets with polished brass buttons gleaming under the stage lights. On their heads sat pristine military hats, their sharp brims casting shadowy lines over the grotesque faces beneath. Despite their rigid, puppet-like movements, there was an unsettling sense of precision in their march, as though some unseen force puppeteered them toward the stage.


    The mannequins, armed to the teeth with a bizarre assortment of guns and heavy artillery, marched toward the stage with mechanical precision. The sound of their clattering movements echoed throughout the vast space as they moved into formation, their blank eyes all fixed on Maxwell with an unnerving intensity. Without hesitation, they raised their weapons, fingers tightening on their triggers in unison.


    Maxwell remained seated, watching them with an air of calm indifference. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, his wings unfurled behind him. The sleek white feathers shimmered in the spotlight¡¯s glow, a cascade of sharp, pointed quills that bristled with hidden energy. In an instant, he scattered his feathers across the stage, sending them spiraling through the air like shrapnel.


    The first wave of bullets came, a barrage of metal cutting through the air, aimed directly at him.


    Each bullet was effortlessly deflected by the swirling feathers, ricocheting off in a shower of sparks. Those that slipped past his defenses were dodged with almost casual grace, Maxwell¡¯s body weaving through the chaos with an ease that bordered on supernatural. His movements were fluid, each step calculated, as if he were dancing through the storm of gunfire.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always been good at predicting my enemies¡¯ movements,¡± Maxwell commented, his voice calm and unwavering amidst the chaos. He dodged another spray of bullets, his feathers acting as a protective shield. ¡°But these things¡­¡± He glanced at the mannequins, their jerky, lifeless motions betraying their simplicity. ¡°They¡¯re even more predictable than I expected.¡±


    A slow, mechanical laugh echoed through the empty room. The sound was tinny, distorted, like a broken toy struggling to imitate laughter.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more,¡± said a small, scratchy voice.


    Maxwell¡¯s gaze shifted to the front row, where a small figure had appeared, perched awkwardly on the edge of a seat. A tattered teddy bear, its fur matted and patched, sat slumped over, its button eyes glinting in the dim light. The laugh came again, this time from within the bear itself. A voice box hidden inside it crackled to life, and the bear''s head jerked up with a sudden, puppet-like motion.


    The voice, disturbingly cheerful, rang out from the stuffed toy. ¡°Predictable, aren¡¯t they? But that¡¯s the beauty of them! They don¡¯t need to think, they just need to shoot!¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes narrowed, watching the bear with mild curiosity, though his focus remained sharp, his wings still scattering feathers like a shield. ¡°And who are you supposed to be?¡±


    The teddy bear¡¯s head tilted slightly, as if considering the question. Then, with a creaking, jerking motion, it waved a small paw in the air. ¡°Me? Oh, I¡¯m just the show¡¯s director,¡± it replied with a sinister giggle. ¡°And you, my dear Maxwell, are the star of this evening¡¯s performance. So, let¡¯s put on a good show, shall we?¡±


    Maxwell smirked, his wings twitching behind him in anticipation. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    The auditorium filled with the rattling noise of the mannequins reloading their weapons, preparing for another volley. The teddy bear, its head lolling awkwardly to one side, continued to giggle as if this were all a grand joke.


    Maxwell¡¯s wings unfurled to their full span, feathers sharp and gleaming like blades in the spotlight. He crouched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to unleash the next strike.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can keep up,¡± he murmured.


    Maxwell''s wings flared wide as he took to the air, his feathers glowing with an ethereal, radiant light. With a flick of his wings, the feathers launched forward like arrows, slicing through the air with deadly precision. As they flew, each feather transformed into a sword of pure light, sharp and blazing, aimed directly at the soldiers¡¯ crude, painted faces.


    The first wave of soldiers barely had time to raise their weapons before the swords struck, each one embedding itself perfectly in the center of a mannequin''s forehead. The distorted, childish smiles remained frozen as their porcelain heads cracked and shattered, collapsing to the ground with dull thuds.


    Maxwell moved with effortless grace, his hypercognition allowing him to predict every move before it happened. The soldiers¡¯ clumsy attempts to fire were met with nothing but air, their bullets missing wildly as Maxwell weaved through the storm of gunfire. His movements were swift, fluid, as if he were dancing between the bullets, a blur of light and shadow.


    Another sweep of his wings sent a new barrage of feathers hurtling toward the advancing soldiers. This time, the light swords pierced their torsos, slicing clean through their black uniforms. The mannequins crumpled under the assault, their rigid bodies falling apart like broken marionettes, limbs snapping and collapsing into pieces.


    Though each strike was devastating, the relentless wave of soldiers continued to press forward, their numbers overwhelming. Maxwell, even with his hypercognitive abilities predicting every movement, began to feel the strain. His breath grew heavier as the battle wore on, and the once effortless dodges became more calculated, the slightest shift in his expression betraying the fatigue creeping in.


    Yet, even as exhaustion threatened to slow him, Maxwell''s focus remained unshaken. With one last surge of energy, he unleashed a powerful flap of his wings, scattering a final cascade of glowing feathers. They spun through the air like a whirlwind of blades, cutting down the remaining soldiers in a brilliant explosion of light.


    As the last of the mannequins fell, their shattered remains littering the stage, Maxwell hovered in the air, wings outstretched, breathing heavily. The auditorium fell silent once more, save for the soft crackle of fading energy. His eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness beyond the stage, knowing that this battle was only the beginning.


    Maxwell hovered above the stage, his chest heaving as he surveyed the remains of the shattered mannequins scattered across the floor. For a brief moment, there was silence, but it was broken by the eerie, distorted voice of the teddy bear.


    ¡°Wow, for a kid, you¡¯re very strong. It¡¯s a shame you have to die¡ªI¡¯d love to play with you more,¡± the teddy bear chimed, its voice box crackling with twisted amusement. The button eyes glinted maliciously in the dim light, and a low, mechanical laugh echoed through the auditorium.


    Maxwell¡¯s gaze hardened as the fragments of the broken mannequins began to stir. With unnatural movements, the shattered pieces clattered together, twitching as they began to reform. Cracks spiderwebbed across their porcelain bodies, but they pulled themselves upright, their twisted limbs snapping back into place. However, something was wrong. Their once-jagged movements became smooth, and deliberate, as if they had learned from their prior failure.


    The teddy bear''s laughter grew louder, more unsettling. ¡°Let¡¯s try reforming them a bit.¡±


    Before Maxwell could react, the mannequins¡¯ bodies slammed together, fusing into grotesque abominations. Limbs melded into one another, their twisted forms growing larger and more monstrous. Guns, once separate, were now woven into their very bodies, embedded in arms, torsos, and faces. Seven towering figures stood before him, their faces even more distorted, the crude, childlike expressions now horrific mockeries of human emotion. Each one bore multiple arms, their jagged, stitched bodies crackling with dark energy.


    Their movements were no longer erratic. They were precise.


    Maxwell¡¯s wings fluttered in agitation as he assessed the new threat. His hypercognition kicked in, analyzing every twitch of their limbs, every shift in their stance. The monstrous mannequins were stronger, faster, and more unpredictable than before. But Maxwell wasn¡¯t about to back down.


    ¡°Let¡¯s begin act two of this play,¡± the teddy bear cackled from the front row, leaning forward in its seat with glee.


    Maxwell¡¯s wings flared out with a snap, his feathers shimmering with renewed energy. He shot upward, narrowly dodging a barrage of bullets that erupted from the mannequins¡¯ twisted forms. Their guns were now part of their bodies, firing in every direction with a terrifying efficiency. Maxwell swerved between the hail of bullets, moving like a phantom as he unleashed another volley of feathers, each one transforming into a blade of light.


    The light swords tore through the air, but this time, the mannequins responded faster. One of the towering figures swung its massive arm, deflecting the attack with a spray of bullets. Another mannequin charged at him, its limbs elongating unnaturally as it lashed out, forcing Maxwell to twist midair to avoid being struck. He felt the wind of the attack brush past his wings, close¡ªtoo close.


    ¡°Adaptive, huh?¡± Maxwell muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes tracking the monsters as they moved in unison, their attacks synchronized with deadly precision. He could feel the strain now, the weight of the battle beginning to press down on him. His feathers glowed brighter, but even he knew this fight was growing more dangerous by the second.


    One of the twisted mannequins lunged forward, its multiple arms reaching out like grasping claws. Maxwell spun in midair, sending a cluster of light blades toward its chest. The blades embedded themselves in the mannequin¡¯s body, but instead of falling, it simply absorbed the impact, its form contorting grotesquely as it reconfigured itself around the attack.


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    A second mannequin leapt into the air, faster than he expected. Maxwell''s hypercognition screamed at him¡ªtoo late. He flapped his wings hard, just in time to avoid a crushing blow, but the force sent him careening backward, slamming into the stage floor with a thud. The impact knocked the breath out of him for a split second, but that was all the mannequins needed.


    Two more advanced, their grotesque, gun-arm limbs raised and firing. Bullets whizzed past, and Maxwell barely managed to roll out of the way, his wings scattering defensive feathers to block the barrage. He gritted his teeth. This fight was spiraling out of control.


    ¡°I must admit, you¡¯re impressive,¡± the teddy bear mused from its seat, watching the chaos unfold. ¡°But no matter how clever you are, I¡¯ve rigged this play in my favor.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes flashed with determination as he staggered to his feet. ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡±


    With a mighty flap of his wings, Maxwell launched himself back into the air, his feathers igniting with intense light, brighter than before. His hypercognition fired on all cylinders, every calculation pushing his abilities to their limit. He was fast¡ªfaster than the mannequins, faster than their relentless gunfire. He zigzagged through the air, every movement precise as he closed the gap between him and the nearest abomination.


    With a battle cry, he slammed both hands down, sending a surge of energy through his wings. A blinding pulse of light erupted from his feathers, and the swords of light grew even larger, crashing down on the mannequin like a divine hammer. The light tore through its body, splitting it apart in a brilliant explosion of feathers and energy.


    One down.


    But the others were closing in fast, and Maxwell could feel his strength waning. He steadied himself midair, wings trembling under the strain. He couldn¡¯t let up¡ªnot yet. Not until every last one of these monstrosities was destroyed.


    Maxwell soared above the stage, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as the monstrous mannequins regrouped below him. Each of their warped forms twisted and crackled with dark energy, ready to lunge at him again. The weight of the battle was pressing down on him, but his mind raced faster than ever¡ªhis hypercognition scanning the environment for anything he could use.


    His gaze swept to the backstage area, where old play props and backdrops were haphazardly strewn about. Sets from long-forgotten productions were stored behind the curtains, wooden structures, faux chandeliers, towering castle walls, and broken furniture, all left to gather dust. Maxwell¡¯s mind clicked into overdrive, a plan forming in seconds.


    The mannequins advanced, their elongated limbs snapping as they reached up, desperate to bring him down. Maxwell dove toward the stage, his wings pulling him into a tight spiral as he weaved through the onslaught of gunfire. One of the grotesque creatures swung a massive, jagged limb at him, but he twisted midair, narrowly avoiding the blow as he shot toward the backstage area.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you handle this,¡± Maxwell muttered under his breath as he flapped his wings, sending another volley of glowing feathers to hold the mannequins at bay.


    The massive castle backdrop, an old set piece from a long-discarded play, loomed over the stage, its wooden walls standing tall and sturdy. Maxwell shot past it, his fingers brushing against the rope pulley system behind the scenes. With a swift yank, he released the tension, and the massive backdrop groaned as it swayed precariously above the mannequins.


    He flapped his wings hard, propelling himself to safety as the backdrop collapsed with a thunderous crash, the wooden structure smashing into the mannequins below. Dust and debris exploded into the air, and for a moment, the eerie glow of the mannequins was obscured by the wreckage.


    Maxwell hovered just above the chaos, catching his breath as the dust settled. His hypercognition told him it wasn¡¯t over yet¡ªand sure enough, the twisted mannequins began to stir beneath the rubble, their bodies contorting and reforming as they struggled to free themselves from the collapsed structure.


    ¡°Persistent,¡± Maxwell muttered, his mind already scanning for his next move. He noticed several large prop chandeliers hanging above the stage, each one rigged to a pulley system for dramatic scenes. Maxwell''s wings flared as he darted upward, soaring toward the hanging fixtures.


    With a sharp tug on the ropes, he released the chandeliers, sending them plummeting toward the mannequins. The first chandelier smashed into the lead abomination, crushing it beneath the weight of iron and crystal. The creature let out a distorted screech as its body was obliterated, limbs twitching and flailing before falling still.


    But the others adapted, twisting their bodies unnaturally to avoid the falling debris. Maxwell cursed under his breath as the remaining mannequins broke free of the wreckage, their speed, and coordination now unsettlingly precise.


    One of the towering abominations lunged at him from the side, its gun-limbs firing wildly as it rushed forward. Maxwell twisted through the air, but the creature was faster this time. Its clawed hand swiped at him, catching the edge of his wing and sending him spiraling backward. Maxwell grunted as he crashed into an old set piece, a wooden throne, and tumbled across the stage.


    The mannequins advanced, sensing his vulnerability. Maxwell''s wings twitched, feathers scattering defensively as he struggled to his feet. His eyes darted to the throne he had collided with, and an idea flickered in his mind.


    With a surge of energy, Maxwell grabbed the throne and flung it toward the nearest mannequin. The heavy prop smashed into the creature''s chest, sending it staggering back. Maxwell leaped into the air, using the distraction to regain altitude. He flapped his wings hard, and another barrage of feathers flew toward the advancing horde, this time aiming not just for their heads, but for their limbs, disabling them bit by bit.


    ¡°Your moves are growing sloppy, boy,¡± the teddy bear taunted from its seat, its voice still crackling with amusement. ¡°Are you tired? Can¡¯t keep up?¡±


    Maxwell''s mind raced. He needed something bigger, something that could overwhelm the mannequins before they adapted again. His eyes flicked toward the large wooden archways used as part of the stage set¡ªa perfect trap.


    Maxwell shot toward the rigging, his wings a blur as he untangled the ropes holding the archways in place. With a swift motion, he released the supports, and the massive arch came crashing down onto the stage. It slammed into the center of the mannequins, splintering as it struck, and this time, the force was enough to stop them in their tracks.


    Seizing the moment, Maxwell gathered his strength for one final move. His feathers glowed with an intense, radiant light as he unleashed everything he had left. The swords of light flew from his wings in a spiraling storm, cutting through the twisted bodies of the mannequins with ruthless precision. One by one, the grotesque creatures fell, their limbs severed, their faces shattered.


    Finally, as the last mannequin collapsed to the floor in a heap of broken porcelain and twisted metal, Maxwell landed softly on the stage. His wings drooped slightly, exhaustion was evident in his movements.


    The teddy bear clapped its tiny paws from the front row, the sound eerily hollow in the otherwise quiet auditorium. ¡°Bravo, bravo. What a marvelous performance,¡± it mocked, its small black eyes glinting with malicious amusement. The tattered little thing sat there, smug and seemingly unfazed, as though the destruction Maxwell had wrought upon the stage was nothing more than a passing spectacle.


    ¡°Let me check the script,¡± the teddy bear mused, its stitched mouth curving into a smile that sent a chill down Maxwell''s spine. ¡°Ah yes, act three: Maxwell''s death. My favorite part.¡±


    A soft, maniacal giggle escaped from the bear''s voice box. But Maxwell had no patience for this twisted show. With a flick of his hand, a single glowing feather shot from his wings, slicing through the air and embedding itself squarely in the teddy bear¡¯s forehead. The bear''s laughter cut off with an abrupt squeal as the light from its eyes dimmed. It slumped lifelessly in the front row, a grotesque rag doll once more.


    ¡°That thing was creepy,¡± Maxwell muttered, his wings lowering slightly as he surveyed the carnage. Dust still swirled from the ruined mannequins, the twisted abominations lay shattered on the ground. It seemed like it was over.


    Until it wasn¡¯t.


    From the shadows, the soft sound of footsteps echoed across the stage. Maxwell¡¯s eyes snapped toward the sound. Emerging from the darkness was another figure¡ªtaller, smoother, and eerily familiar. It moved with a grace the other dolls lacked, its movements precise, calculated. As it stepped into the light, Maxwell¡¯s eyes widened.


    The doll was a mirror image of himself.


    From the orange and jet-black streaks in its hair to the striking orange eyes that seemed to glimmer with life, it was a near-perfect replica. Every detail was meticulously crafted, except for a few glaring omissions. The replica lacked the keyhole in Maxwell¡¯s head, the one that marked his strange origin, and it had no sign of the six angelic wings that gave him his power. But it was unsettlingly close.


    ¡°How mean,¡± came a voice, not from the doll¡¯s mouth but from the surrounding air. It was the same voice that had animated the teddy bear. ¡°You ruined my favorite teddy bear. Do you know how long it took me to make it?¡±


    The doll Maxwell¡¯s mouth remained still, but its head tilted, observing the destruction with a calm, detached interest. ¡°Who could have done such a terrible thing to my precious toys?¡±


    Maxwell''s wings flared, tension running through his muscles. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    The voice chuckled darkly. ¡°Ah, yes. Introductions. My codename is Toymaker. I create, control, and love my little dolls. You¡¯ve met a few of them already.¡± The voice now came from all directions, reverberating through the auditorium like a disembodied puppeteer controlling the scene. ¡°But me? I prefer to stay hidden. Let my toys do the work. I don¡¯t believe your friends at A.E.G.I.S. even know I exist¡­ yet.¡±


    The replica doll stepped closer, picking up the severed head of one of the ruined mannequins. It gazed at the lifeless face, its own expression blank and impassive. ¡°You¡¯re truly cruel, you know. You damaged my precious toys so¡­ roughly.¡± The voice now came directly from the replica Maxwell, though its mouth still didn¡¯t move. ¡°I spent so long crafting each of them by hand. Sewing them special clothes, giving them character.¡±


    Maxwell''s brow furrowed. ¡°Well, maybe you shouldn¡¯t have sent them to kill me,¡± he snapped, his feathers bristling. His wings unfurled fully, ready for whatever twisted trick Toymaker had planned next.


    The air crackled with energy. In response to Toymaker''s silent command, the shattered remnants of the destroyed mannequins began to stir. Tiny fragments, no larger than shards of glass, floated upward as though gravity had reversed itself. Bits of wood, porcelain, and metal twisted and spiraled in the air, condensing into a single form. The doll that mirrored Maxwell stood in the center of it all, its expression still eerily calm as the broken pieces of its fallen comrades grafted themselves to its back.


    The transformation was grotesque. The fragments merged with the replica doll¡¯s body, becoming long, spiny wings of jagged metal and broken limbs. The limbs contorted and twisted grotesquely, forming macabre wings, and the guns once held by the ruined mannequins were now fused with the limbs, creating something far more deadly than before. Within the replica Maxwell¡¯s hands, two pistols formed from the wreckage, their barrels crackling with dark energy, far stronger than the weapons the previous dolls had used.


    Maxwell watched as the monstrosity finished its transformation. The six twisted wings extended, twitching and clicking as the doll raised its pistols, aiming directly at him.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how well you fight against yourself, Maxwell,¡± Toymaker''s voice purred. ¡°Shall we begin? Act three is always the most exciting.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s pulse quickened, his hypercognition kicking into overdrive. Every movement of the replica doll, every shift of its wings, every crackle of energy from its pistols¡ªit all fed into his mind, creating a perfect map of his enemy. But there was something deeper, something strange about this opponent. It wasn¡¯t just a puppet¡ªit felt alive, as if it shared Toymaker¡¯s will directly.


    Maxwell gritted his teeth, the air around him humming with the light of his wings. ¡°If this is how you want to play it, Toymaker,¡± he muttered, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯ll show you what the real Maxwell can do.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s play,¡± Toymaker''s voice echoed with chilling glee. ¡°I¡¯ll toy with you until you break.¡±


    As the words left the doll''s mouth, a twisted halo formed above its head¡ªa crown of spinning bullets, gleaming with malice. Each one hovered in place, ready to rain down death upon Maxwell, their metallic surfaces catching the dim light like a predator''s eyes in the dark.

 Chapter 35-Encore

    Maxwell stood on the creaking stage, his wings fanned out behind him, their soft glow casting an eerie light across the torn set pieces. The replica doll stood opposite him, a twisted reflection of himself, mimicking his every movement with cold precision. The resemblance was uncanny¡ªdown to the streaks of orange in the hair, the sharp angles of the face, and even the expressionless eyes. But where Maxwell¡¯s features held life, the dolls were hollow, its glassy eyes vacant, yet filled with malice.


    The doll¡¯s wings were a perverse imitation of his own, formed from broken fragments of the fallen mannequins, jagged and cruel, whereas Maxwell¡¯s were smooth and angelic. Its halo, crafted from spinning bullets, hovered mockingly above its head, a dark parody of divinity. Each bullet shimmered with deadly intent, ready to rain destruction at the Toymaker¡¯s whim.


    Maxwell could feel the weight of the moment, the strange sense of facing himself, but in a form twisted and corrupted. Every detail of the doll was designed to provoke, to reflect his image back at him in the most grotesque way possible. This thing was the embodiment of Toymaker¡¯s madness, an angelic figure perverted by cruelty and violence.


    For a moment, neither moved, as if the stage itself had frozen in anticipation. The contrast between them hung in the air, the line between light and dark blurring as Maxwell sized up his twisted counterpart. Something was unsettling about seeing yourself like this¡ªan emotionless killer, a machine bent on destruction, with no hint of the life that burned within Maxwell¡¯s own chest.


    But as Maxwell¡¯s wings pulsed with radiant energy, he knew that whatever this thing was, it was not him. It was a puppet. A mockery. And he would destroy it.


    The replica doll''s glassy eyes focused on Maxwell, its movements jerky but precise as it raised its twin pistols. With a swift motion, it leveled the guns directly at him, the barrels glowing with a dark energy that mirrored Maxwell¡¯s own radiant feathers. The doll¡¯s wings shifted, readying for battle, their twisted limbs creaking like a house made of bones.


    Maxwell¡¯s heart pounded, but his mind remained calm, his hypercognition kicking in. He could see it all, the trajectory of each bullet before it was fired, the way the doll¡¯s body moved with unnatural grace, and the tiny moments of weakness in its movements. He was about to face the darkest version of himself, and he knew only one of them would walk away from this stage.


    As Toymaker¡¯s voice cut through the silence, the stage lights flickered above them.


    ¡°Show me, Maxwell,¡± it purred through the doll''s lips. ¡°Show me what it means to be you.¡±


    And with that, the halo of bullets spun faster, and the final act began.


    The fight began with a crack of gunfire, a cacophony of sound as the replica Maxwell fired its pistols in unison, each bullet spinning from the halo above its head. In response, Maxwell¡¯s wings exploded with light as he launched his feathers like arrows, each one meeting the bullets midair. The stage lit up in bursts of radiant energy and dark shadow, the clash of their powers creating a spectacle of light and darkness intertwined.


    Every movement of the twisted doll seemed to mirror Maxwell¡¯s own. When Maxwell dodged, the doll dodged too, its wings shifting at the same angle, its bullets finding their mark with unsettling precision. The doll''s motions were fluid, yet mechanical¡ªan eerie parody of Maxwell¡¯s grace. Every strike, every counter, every step mirrored in perfect sync.


    Maxwell¡¯s feathers sliced through the air, transforming into blades of light as they homed in on the doll. The replica countered with bursts of gunfire from the various guns embedded in its wings, each projectile infused with dark energy that crackled ominously through the air. The bullets and feathers collided in mid-flight, creating brief flashes of light and shadow that illuminated the ruined auditorium.


    For a moment, it was like fighting his own reflection¡ªa deadly game of mimicry where every move he made was countered by the doll¡¯s perfect replication. Maxwell¡¯s mind raced, his hypercognition allowing him to see the paths of each bullet before they were even fired, to predict the exact angles of the doll¡¯s attacks. But no matter how many feathers he launched, no matter how swift his movements, the doll matched him blow for blow.


    Maxwell''s wings flared with an intense light as he darted to the side, avoiding a volley of bullets aimed at his chest. He retaliated by launching a flurry of feathers, each one slicing through the air with deadly precision. The doll¡¯s wings shifted, the dark metal grafted to them absorbing the impact of his feathers, while its guns fired relentlessly.


    Maxwell landed lightly on the stage, his breathing steady but his focus unrelenting. His feathers flew in rapid succession, aiming for the doll¡¯s wings, its joints, its head¡ªany weak point he could exploit. But the doll was faster than it had any right to be. It spun and twisted, dodging the feathers with an unnatural grace, returning fire with uncanny accuracy.


    ¡°This is getting annoying,¡± Maxwell muttered under his breath as he blocked another hail of bullets. ¡°It''s like it¡¯s reading me.¡±


    He leaped into the air, trying to gain the advantage, but the doll followed, wings propelling it upward as it fired from below. Maxwell spun mid-flight, his feathers deflecting the bullets as he shot toward the doll, intent on a direct strike. Their wings clashed, sending a shockwave through the air as they grappled for control, each trying to overpower the other.


    But then, Maxwell felt it¡ªa moment of hesitation, a tiny miscalculation. The doll twisted, faster than expected, and in an instant, a bullet shot out from its pistol, piercing through the air with impossible speed.


    Pain exploded in Maxwell''s arm, a searing lance of agony that cut through his focus like a jagged blade. The impact of the bullet drove him back, sending him crashing to the stage with a jarring thud. The once-vibrant energy of his wings flickered and waned, their celestial light dimming as a stream of crimson began to trickle from the wound in his bicep. His feathers, which had sliced through the air with such precision, now faltered and fell, unable to sustain their brilliance.


    He gritted his teeth, trying to steady himself against the rising tide of pain. Clutching his injured arm, Maxwell struggled to rise, but the effort only seemed to intensify the throbbing ache that radiated from his wound. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhalation drawing a fresh wave of agony. The twisted doll, its grotesque parody of Maxwell, descended with a sinister grace, its cold, glassy eyes locked onto him with unfeeling precision. Its pistols, gleaming with dark malice, remained trained on him, ready to unleash another round of deadly fire.


    ¡°Predict that,¡± Toymaker''s voice rang out, dripping with mockery as it echoed through the doll¡¯s dispassionate tone.


    Seizing the opportunity, the doll''s pistols roared to life once more, each bullet a merciless harbinger of pain. Maxwell¡¯s attempts to evade were futile. A shot exploded into his leg, the force of it buckling his knee and sending him sprawling. Another bullet punctured his other shoulder, the impact driving him further into the stage with a cry of pain. The relentless barrage overwhelmed him, his body slumping to the ground as the doll stood tall and indifferent above him.


    Maxwell¡¯s vision blurred at the edges, the stage around him spinning into a chaotic whirl of shadows and blinding light. His once-mighty wings lay crumpled and dim, their grandeur shattered like a broken dream. Each breath he took felt like a struggle, every beat of his heart sending a fresh jolt of agony through his battered form. The doll¡¯s cold metal boots pressed down on his stomach, the weight of it like a vice that crushed what little hope he had left.


    ¡°Let the curtain fall,¡± Toymaker''s voice echoed with a chilling finality, a cruel twist of fate as the doll¡¯s pistol leveled at Maxwell¡¯s head. The gun¡¯s barrel gleamed ominously in the dim light, the muzzle pointing directly at his temple.


    Maxwell''s mind raced, a flicker of desperation amidst the encroaching darkness. The pain was overwhelming, the physical assault relentless. The stage lights above seemed to dim as if in sympathy with his plight, casting long, eerie shadows that danced around him.


    Toymaker''s voice continued, a chilling monologue that seemed almost detached from the gravity of the moment. ¡°According to the dolls I¡¯ve hidden around this place, those other amateurs seemed to have died. What a shame. I wonder how Chickenhead is doing,¡± Toymaker mused, a tone of idle curiosity in its voice as the doll above Maxwell regarded the scene with a dispassionate air.


    The words felt like a taunt, a final insult to add to the physical pain. Maxwell''s world narrowed to the point of the gun, the cold metal pressing against his skin. The replica¡¯s face, a grotesque echo of his own, bore down on him with a sinister smile, its eyes void of empathy.


    The stage, once a battleground of light and shadow, now seemed like a pit of despair, a place where even the most radiant of beings could be snuffed out. Maxwell lay there, his body battered and broken, as the final act loomed large above him. The roar of the pistol¡¯s shot, when it came, would be the crescendo to this cruel performance, a punctuation mark to the dark, twisted tale that Toymaker had spun.


    As the bullet tore through Maxwell''s head, his body slumped to the stage with a final, brutality. Toymaker¡¯s laugh echoed through the auditorium, a cold, triumphant sound that seemed to relish in Maxwell¡¯s demise. The doll, a mockery of Maxwell, turned away with an unsettling grace, its pistols still smoking as it walked off the stage, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.


    Suddenly, the air shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and a woman materialized from the shadows. Her entrance was marked by a cascade of glowing green fireflies that danced around her, their soft light casting an eerie, almost celestial aura. She appeared ethereal and enigmatic, her long white hair flowing wildly around her, as though caught in an eternal breeze. Despite its disheveled appearance, her hair exuded a raw, untamed beauty that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. Her eyes, a mesmerizing, intense green, flickered with a calm yet unsettling intensity as she surveyed the carnage.


    The surrounding air seemed to shimmer as she moved, the ethereal glow of her flowing white sundress catching the faint light, each movement graceful and deliberate. Her long, disheveled white hair cascaded down her back like a wild waterfall, untamed yet captivating, adding to the mystique she carried with her. The fireflies that orbited her like tiny glowing sentinels cast an aura of serene, almost divine presence, contrasting starkly with the carnage of the battlefield.


    ¡°This is the second time you¡¯ve died,¡± she murmured, her voice carrying a haunting calm, as if she existed in a realm untouched by the surrounding violence. ¡°My siblings would be quite displeased to know I¡¯m about to cheat again.¡±


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    As she spoke, a single firefly descended, its glow intensifying as it landed delicately on Maxwell¡¯s broken body. Instantly, its light spread, weaving through his torn flesh and battered form like threads of life being sewn into him. The wounds that had marred his body began to close, the once-jagged gashes smoothing over, leaving no trace of the agony he had endured. Bloodstains evaporated from his skin and clothes, as though time itself had been reversed.


    She bent down, her fingers ghosting over the key that Maxwell always kept with him, her touch both gentle and purposeful. Her eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion as she grasped it and inserted it into the keyhole in his head. A soundless click reverberated through the air, and the world seemed to hold its breath.


    ¡°No! Stop it!¡± Toymaker¡¯s enraged voice tore through the silence. Bullets fired from the doll¡¯s guns in a rapid barrage, each one aimed with fury at the woman. But before they could touch her, they disappeared into the ether, dissolving as though reality itself refused to acknowledge the attack. She stood untouched, serene, unbothered by the futile assault.


    As she turned the key, the transformation began with a violent surge of power. The air crackled with energy, a wild storm of force erupting from Maxwell¡¯s body. His orange hair darkened, twisting and elongating into pitch-black locks that fell down his back in thick waves. His once kind and focused orange eyes shifted, turning a piercing blood-red, burning with raw intensity and rage. A single horn, now pristine and unbroken, jutted proudly from his forehead, symbolizing the return of a more ancient, more dangerous version of him.


    His wings, once radiant and white, became black as night, their feathers now sharp and intimidating like obsidian blades. The surrounding aura was no longer soft; it was overwhelming, and oppressive, as if gravity itself bowed to his newfound strength. Shadows clung to his frame, flickering around his body like tendrils of darkness, and yet his presence exuded a terrible, magnetic allure¡ªboth beautiful and deadly.


    His gaze, now filled with an unrelenting, predatory focus, locked onto the doll that had once mirrored his former self.  The twisted replica stood, a crude version of what it once was, but compared to the newly transformed Maxwell, it now appeared grotesque¡ªa hollow shell. The power that had animated it seemed small, insignificant in the face of this overwhelming force.


    Satisfied with her work, the woman smiled with an enigmatic grace. ¡°Now go ahead, rewrite this poorly written play,¡± she said softly, her voice a gentle breeze against the chaotic backdrop of the stage.


    With a final, almost imperceptible nod, she vanished, her form dissolving into the swarm of fireflies that drifted off into the darkness, leaving Maxwell standing alone. The auditorium, once a stage for Toymaker¡¯s cruel game, was now a scene of profound transformation, setting the stage for the next chapter in this twisted play.


    ¡°There wasn¡¯t supposed to be a fourth act,¡± Toymaker grumbled, there voice tinged with frustration. ¡°The play was supposed to end.¡±


    ¡°Prepare for an encore, you cheap, pathetic replica,¡± Avaritia''s voice reverberated through the air, cold and commanding. The warmth and light that had once defined Maxwell were now gone, replaced by a darker, far more dangerous presence.


    Maxwell''s transformation was a stunning display of raw power and malevolent grace.  Tiny droplets of water materialized from the aura, hovering in the air as if suspended in time. At first, they drifted lazily, almost deceptively harmless, but then, with a flick of Maxwell''s will, they shot out in every direction like daggers.


    The room erupted in chaos as the droplets found their targets with terrifying precision. Hidden dolls, previously undetected in the shadows, were instantly dismantled. Each impact was accompanied by a sharp crack, followed by the shattering of porcelain and wood. The onslaught was ruthless and unrelenting; limbs and faces twisted, breaking apart under the sheer force of the assault.


    Maxwell stood in the center of it all, untouched and composed, his expression unreadable. ¡°Any other cheap tricks?¡± he asked, his voice now a sinister blend of calm and malice.


    Toymaker¡¯s shock was evident, the smug arrogance gone. Their eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room as more of Their precious dolls were obliterated. ¡°Who are you? You¡¯re not the same as before, are you?¡± Their voice trembled slightly, struggling to mask the growing fear.


    ¡°No,¡± Maxwell responded with a dangerous sneer. ¡°I am Avaritia, the sin of Greed. It¡¯s a shame your real body isn¡¯t here, but I¡¯ll settle for your toys.¡±


    Avaritia''s memories surged within him, flashes of his father¡¯s betrayal, the brutal murder, and the torment of his own death. Fury bubbled up inside him, his once-clear purpose now sharpened into a singular desire for revenge. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how I¡¯m still alive, or why I feel so much stronger than before,¡± he growled, ¡°but I¡¯ll accept it. I¡¯ll claw my way back and kill those who betrayed my father.¡±


    Suddenly, Avaritia¡¯s hand shot forward, grabbing the replica by its wrist. Instantly, an intense heat radiated from his grasp, causing the doll¡¯s arm to bubble and melt. The once-perfect replica¡¯s limb disintegrated in mere seconds, reduced to a pool of molten material. The doll stumbled backward, its artificial face contorted in pain, though it could feel none.


    Desperately, the replica retaliated, its embedded guns firing relentlessly. Bullets whizzed toward Avaritia, but each one barely had time to graze his skin before his wounds closed up in a flash of emerald light. It was as though Avaritia¡¯s very body rejected the concept of injury¡ªno matter how fatal the shot, his skin knit itself back together, leaving him unscathed.


    ¡°You can¡¯t hurt me,¡± Avaritia taunted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. ¡°And now¡­ let me show you what true power looks like.¡±


    In the blink of an eye, more bullets of water formed around Avaritia, this time far more concentrated. With a snap of his fingers, they launched toward the replica¡¯s wings, tearing through them like paper. The wings, once imposing and deadly, crumbled as the water shredded them into pieces.


    ¡°No! Stop it! I won¡¯t let you destroy my toy!¡± Toymaker¡¯s voice screamed, the panic now undeniable.


    But it was too late. The replica, now wingless and crippled, stumbled to the ground, its guns sparking uselessly. Avaritia stepped forward, his cold gaze fixed on the fallen doll. Each step was deliberate, as if savoring the moment before delivering the final blow. Toymaker¡¯s voice echoed in desperation, but Avaritia no longer cared.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let you destroy my toy!¡± Toymaker¡¯s voice rang out, a desperate plea echoing through the room.


    But Avaritia didn¡¯t flinch. His eyes, now blood-red and devoid of any mercy, narrowed as he advanced on the replica. The twisted imitation of Maxwell, now broken and wingless, struggled to rise, its limbs twitching awkwardly as it attempted to obey Toymaker¡¯s commands.


    ¡°Your toy?¡± Avaritia scoffed, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°This is nothing more than a cheap imitation. You really thought this could defeat me?¡±


    The replica raised its remaining arm, grasping the gun in its hand, and fired another volley of bullets. The air filled with the deafening sound of gunfire, but it was futile. Avaritia barely moved. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the blue aura surrounding him shifted, and the bullets were met with droplets of water that acted as shields, dissolving the projectiles before they could even reach him.


    He grinned, savoring the moment as the replica''s attacks grew increasingly erratic. The once-precise shots were now wild and desperate, a final, futile effort to stop the inevitable.


    ¡°You¡¯re starting to bore me,¡± Avaritia growled, his voice low and dangerous.


    Suddenly, his wings flared out, their black feathers glistening with an eerie light. With a single powerful sweep, he launched a barrage of feathers, each one imbued with lethal energy. They shot toward the replica with terrifying speed, piercing through its body like spears.


    The replica let out a mechanical whirr, stumbling backward as its frame buckled under the assault. Sparks flew from the gaping holes in its chest and limbs, and its porcelain-like face began to crack, jagged lines spreading like a spiderweb across its distorted features. Still, it tried to fight, raising its pistols in one final, defiant motion.


    But Avaritia was already upon it.


    He grabbed the doll by its throat, lifting it off the ground effortlessly. His grip was like iron, and the replica¡¯s body convulsed as it dangled in the air, powerless. Avaritia leaned in close, his expression one of pure contempt.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± he hissed.


    With a surge of strength, he slammed the doll into the ground, cracking the floor beneath them. The replica writhed, its broken wings twitching uselessly as it tried to push itself up. But Avaritia wasn¡¯t finished. He raised his hand, and the room grew colder as the water droplets that floated in the air condensed into razor-sharp shards of ice.


    ¡°No, no!¡± Toymaker¡¯s voice cried out, frantic now. ¡°I won¡¯t let you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let? You¡¯re not in control here,¡± Avaritia interrupted, his voice deadly calm.


    With a sharp downward motion, the ice shards descended upon the replica, driving into its body and pinning it to the floor. The doll let out a pitiful whirring noise, its movements becoming slower, and weaker, as the life was drained from it. Sparks and wires protruded from its wounds, its glassy eyes now dimming.


    Toymaker''s panicked voice continued to scream through the replica, but Avaritia ignored it. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable as he watched the last flickers of movement from the fallen imitation. Slowly, methodically, he extended his hand, his fingers curling around the doll¡¯s head.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time we ended this little game.¡±


    With a sickening crunch, Avaritia crushed the replica¡¯s head in his grip. The porcelain-like material shattered, fragments raining down onto the ground as the once-proud doll collapsed, its body falling limp. The mechanical whirring stopped, and the light in its eyes vanished completely.


    Avaritia let the remnants of the head fall from his hand, standing over the wreckage of the doll. The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of broken machinery and Toymaker¡¯s fading, impotent cries.


    Avaritia''s form shimmered, and slowly, the dark, demonic features began to fade. The black wings retracted, the horn disappeared, and his blood-red eyes dulled to the familiar orange. His once-pristine hair, streaked with black, returned to its normal messy state. Maxwell had regained his human appearance, but his mind¡ªhis memories¡ªwere no longer locked away. He remembered everything. The betrayal, his father''s murder, his own death. And most of all, the dark, overwhelming hunger for power that had given rise to Avaritia.


    He stood silently on the stage, his breaths steady but heavy, processing the surge of memories. He had unlocked something deeper within himself, something dangerous, and though he had returned to normal, the transformation left a lingering weight on his soul.


    Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room. A figure appeared in the doorway. Frank.


    But this wasn¡¯t the Frank Maxwell had remembered. He was even more deranged now, covered in blood, his face serious and filled with malice. In his hand, he gripped a woman, dragging her by her hair, her limp body behind him.


    The girl had a strange elegance, her light blue hair cascading down like a river, and her eyes, a striking, unnatural red, stared vacantly ahead. She wore a pale blue dress that swayed as Frank jerked her along, the heels of her crimson shoes clicking with every drag.


    ¡°I believe this is the one who was controlling all those dolls,¡± Frank said casually, throwing her to the ground in front of Maxwell.


    ¡°I won''t let you get away with this!¡± Toymaker¡¯s voice shrieked from the girl''s mouth, panicked and desperate.


    Frank¡¯s face took on a twisted grin, as he stomped down on her head, a sickening crunch following. The body on the ground twitched violently, then fell still. Sparks and mechanical whirs echoed as the illusion shattered¡ªrevealing the woman to be nothing more than another doll, a far more lifelike creation than any before.


    ¡°Another fake,¡± Frank mused, wiping his bloodstained hands on his pants. ¡°I bet the real body isn''t even here.¡±


    Maxwell stared down at the broken doll, his mind whirling. The Toymaker was still out there, lurking somewhere, controlling these elaborate puppets. He clenched his fists, knowing this was far from over.


    Frank¡¯s unsettling laughter broke the silence. ¡°So,¡± he began, his tone dripping with mockery, ¡°care to tell me what that was about, Sin of Greed? Avaritia?¡±

 Chapter 36-Butterfly, Firefly and Moth

    The air in the room was thick with tension, so suffocating it felt as if even Excalibur itself couldn¡¯t cut through it. Maxwell and Frank stood in the center of the ruined stage, amidst shattered props and broken mannequins, the glow of the dimming stage lights casting long, eerie shadows.


    Frank''s blood-smeared form stood in stark contrast to Maxwell''s, his twisted smile never fading, eyes gleaming with manic delight. His unsettling presence filled the space, as though the world itself bent around him. Maxwell, on the other hand, still reeling from his transformation, kept his expression carefully neutral, though the weight of his unlocked memories pressed heavily on his shoulders. This wasn''t just a confrontation between allies¡ªit felt like the prelude to something far more dangerous.


    The silence broke as Frank let out a slow, malicious chuckle, the sound reverberating through the empty auditorium. ¡°So,¡± he said, his voice laced with condescension and mockery, ¡°care to tell me what that was about, Sin of Greed? Avaritia?¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s face didn¡¯t flinch, though his mind raced. Avaritia. The name still echoed within him, like a curse he couldn¡¯t shake. He straightened his posture, adopting a casual, dismissive tone. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to tell you, but I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Frank¡¯s grin widened into something truly grotesque, as if Maxwell¡¯s denial was exactly what he expected. ¡°You know,¡± Frank began, his voice almost playful, ¡°when you get older, we offer an optional class for agents¡ªlying, deception, all those good things. You should sign up, you¡¯re not very good at this. But let me inform you of something right now.¡± His grin faded into something darker, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a low growl. ¡°This blood isn¡¯t mine. So, you¡¯re going to answer my question.¡±


    Maxwell''s eyes darted over the bloodstains smeared across Frank¡¯s clothes, the sight gnawing at his unease. The metallic scent lingered in the air, mixing with the remnants of the shattered dolls and the warped stage. Frank stood there, wild and unpredictable, as if some unseen force had snapped a final tether inside him. The sight of him dragging that bloodied, doll-like figure had only made things worse, a grotesque symbol of his unhinged state.


    Maxwell¡¯s pulse quickened, but he held his silence. There was no way he could tell Frank the truth¡ªnot now, not ever.


    Frank''s grin widened as if he could sense Maxwell¡¯s hesitation, feeding off it like a predator toying with prey. ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Frank said with an unsettling casualness, his voice teetering on the edge of madness. ¡°Listen up, brat. I want to work with you. We¡¯ve got ourselves a common enemy.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes narrowed as Frank leaned in closer, the tension thickening between them.


    ¡°That bastard, the leader of A.E.G.I.S, he¡¯s hellbent on hunting down and slaughtering all seven of you sins,¡± Frank continued, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°And I want that man to die. So, how about this, I¡¯ll keep your dirty little secret¡ªAvaritia, and when the time comes, you''ll help me kill him.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s breath caught. Frank¡¯s grin was now twisted, his eyes gleaming with manic intensity. ¡°I¡¯ll gladly sell my soul to a demon if it means I can take my revenge,¡± Frank spat, his voice a chilling mixture of desperation and resolve.


    Maxwell felt a chill crawl down his spine. Frank wasn¡¯t just unstable¡ªhe was willing to cross any line, break any taboo, to achieve his goals. The proposition hung in the air, dark and treacherous, like an open wound.


    But before Maxwell could respond, a familiar voice cut through the suffocating tension.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I want Maxwell near someone as bad of an influence as you, Frank Stein,¡± the mysterious woman said, her voice soft yet commanding.


    The air shifted as she appeared behind Frank, her presence ethereal yet overwhelming. Glowing green fireflies trailed her as if heralding her arrival, casting an eerie glow across the stage.


    Frank reacted instantly, his arm shifting grotesquely into a writhing tendril, slashing toward her with brutal force. But she was faster. With a flicker, she vanished, reappearing effortlessly across the room, her movement graceful, untouchable.


    Frank¡¯s eyes narrowed in frustration, his patience wearing thin. Maxwell, recognizing the ethereal figure who had once again intervened, broke the silence first. ¡°It¡¯s you again,¡± he muttered, a mixture of relief and wariness in his voice.


    The woman¡¯s glowing green eyes met his, a deep, inscrutable warmth flickering within them. ¡°Yes,¡± she replied softly, her voice carrying an eerie calm that contrasted with the tension crackling in the room. ¡°And it seems I¡¯ve arrived just in time.¡±


    Frank¡¯s twisted smile resurfaced, though his gaze was now scrutinizing the woman with renewed interest. ¡°You¡¯re quite the enigma yourself,¡± he said, his tone probing. ¡°Your healing abilities seem¡­ beyond what even Wallace can manage, from what I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    Her eyes flickered coldly, cutting through his words with disdain. ¡°So you were the disgusting presence I sensed when I first arrived,¡± she said, her voice laced with contempt.


    Frank¡¯s grin didn¡¯t falter, even as her sharp retort landed. ¡°What intrigues me more, however,¡± Frank continued, unfazed by her insult, ¡°is your teleportation. It¡¯s seamless. You and objects vanish in an instant, and yet¡­¡± He gestured around the room with his bloody hands. ¡°None of the projectiles shot at you reappear. It¡¯s as if they just¡ª¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°¡ªvanish.¡±


    She remained still, her expression unreadable, as Frank¡¯s words hung in the air. Her silence was as much a statement as any answer she could give.


    ¡°Your deal,¡± she finally spoke, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. ¡°I dislike it. Especially when I don¡¯t fully trust you.¡±


    Frank''s smirk deepened. ¡°It¡¯s convenient for both of us. You¡¯ll come to see that in time,¡± he said, his voice dark and persuasive. ¡°You and I both want the same thing. To eliminate him.¡± The words dripped with venom. ¡°The leader of A.E.G.I.S won¡¯t stop until he has slain every single one of the Seven Sins. Eventually, he will find out about Maxwell¡ªwhat he truly is.¡±


    A shadow crossed Maxwell¡¯s face at those words, the weight of his truth hanging heavy between them.


    Frank¡¯s tone turned conspiratorial. ¡°Even if the Bookkeeper can¡¯t obtain knowledge about the Sins, he¡¯ll always find a way. The man is relentless, and obsessed. He will learn the truth, one way or another.¡±


    Eden''s gaze sharpened as she mulled over Frank¡¯s words, the weight of their conversation sinking in. ¡°You¡¯re right about that,¡± she admitted, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. ¡°That man is relentless. And dangerous.¡±


    Frank smirked, sensing the shift in the air. ¡°Since we''re playing nice, how about some proper introductions?¡± He leaned forward, his tone mockingly polite. ¡°Frank Stein, current manager of this facility. And you? Care to share?¡±


    Eden¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile as if debating whether to indulge him. After a moment¡¯s pause, she spoke with deliberate calmness. ¡°My name is Eden. I¡¯m the boy¡¯s guardian.¡± She glanced at Maxwell briefly before returning her piercing gaze to Frank. ¡°And I should mention, I¡¯m the Bookkeeper¡¯s younger sister. That alone should tell you I¡¯m not someone to trifle with.¡±


    Frank¡¯s eyebrows shot up, his surprise quickly masked by a widening grin. ¡°Really? The Bookkeeper has a little sister. Well, now I¡¯m really interested.¡± He chuckled darkly. ¡°I¡¯ve had my fair share of chats with him, you know. Funny, he never mentioned family, except for that one time he slipped about his dead brother. I guess the Bookkeeper¡¯s full of surprises.¡±


    Eden''s smile faltered, her expression cooling. ¡°Our family¡­ is not on the best of terms,¡± she said, her voice distant. ¡°Not since our brother¡¯s death. We have one more sibling, but while the Bookkeeper and I manage to remain in contact, our other brother¡ªhe resents us both.¡±


    Frank''s grin broadened, as if Eden had just handed him a priceless gift. ¡°Oh, this just keeps getting better,¡± he said, barely containing his excitement. ¡°Embarrassing family secrets and powerful allies? It¡¯s like Christmas came early.¡±


    Eden¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Before you get too comfortable,¡± she said, extending her hand, ¡°there¡¯s a condition.¡±


    Frank shrugged, grasping her hand in a firm handshake. ¡°Yeah, yeah, let¡¯s hear it.¡±


    As their hands met, a strange pulse of energy coursed through the air. Purple runes blossomed from Eden¡¯s arm, snaking their way across Frank¡¯s wrist and up his forearm. The runes twisted and coiled, forming a branding tattoo in the shape of a circle that pulsed faintly with energy.


    ¡°Under my Authority of Rules,¡± Eden said, her voice cold and steady, ¡°you will not speak of Maxwell¡¯s true nature. Break this pact, and you¡¯ll die instantly. Not even your healing abilities will save you.¡±


    Frank glanced down at the glowing tattoo on his forearm, the purple runes still pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. His grin remained, but there was something else beneath it now¡ªgenuine awe, mixed with a twisted kind of excitement. ¡°Oooh, scary,¡± he mocked lightly, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity. ¡°But fine by me. Now you¡¯ve got every reason to trust me.¡± His voice dropped in tone, sharpening with a raw intensity. ¡°I¡¯ll gladly stake my life on this.¡±


    He leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief. ¡°So, come on, Eden, just one little secret about your brother, the great Bookkeeper. A single juicy, embarrassing detail. You can¡¯t leave me hanging after all this,¡± he begged, his usual nonchalance shifting into a near-desperate plea.


    Maxwell, watching this exchange, had never seen Frank like this. The man who had always been a picture of unhinged control now resembled a curious child, giddy and ravenous for knowledge. Maxwell¡¯s thoughts drifted, his curiosity piqued. Who was this Bookkeeper, a figure so mysterious that even Frank seemed desperate to know more? And Eden¡ªwhat was her story? The questions swirled in his mind, and he found himself staring at the woman who claimed to be his guardian, trying to decipher the truth behind her serene exterior.


    Eden tilted her head, a playful smile dancing across her lips as she contemplated Frank¡¯s request. ¡°My brother would be quite upset if he found out I¡¯d shared any of his secrets,¡± she teased, her tone light, but there was a knowing glimmer in her eyes. ¡°But¡­ perhaps someday, if you''re well-behaved, I might let something slip.¡±


    Frank groaned, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. ¡°Tease,¡± he muttered, though the amusement in his voice betrayed that he was far from truly disappointed.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The three of them, an unlikely trio¡ªFrank, Eden, and Maxwell, sat together on the broken stage. Despite the violence and chaos that had just unfolded, the atmosphere between them had shifted into something almost warm. The tension from earlier melted away as they began discussing their plans and the grim future acts they were destined to perform. A strange camaraderie, forged in blood and secrets, took root amidst the wreckage.


    But far from their small moment of respite, in a distant castle veiled in shadow, a young girl burst from her room, tears filling her eyes. She was no older than twelve, her long black hair streaked with white, her green eyes shimmering with frustration as she clutched a small teddy bear to her chest. She wore a black dress, the fabric trailing behind her like a shadow as she ran, her sobs echoing down the stone corridors.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair!¡± the girl cried, her voice a mix of fury and heartbreak. ¡°It¡¯s not fair! They cheated! They cheated!¡±


    As she fled, she collided with a tall figure¡ªa man with long white hair and deep crimson eyes. He wore an outfit reminiscent of a bartender, sleek and unassuming, though a peculiar tattoo of a snake wrapped around his neck, the head of the serpent poised as if to consume his eye. His expression was calm, his presence unnervingly composed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about what happened, Miss Anya,¡± the man said, his voice smooth and soothing. ¡°But you truly performed exceptionally. There¡¯s no need to be upset.¡±


    Anya clung to her teddy bear, her lip trembling. ¡°I was so close,¡± she wailed. ¡°Then that woman came in and ruined everything! It¡¯s not fair, Uncle Pandora!¡±


    The man, Pandora, smiled indulgently, a soft chuckle escaping him. ¡°It¡¯s always endearing when you call me ¡®uncle,¡¯¡± he said, resting a gentle hand on her head. ¡°But you mustn¡¯t let this defeat weigh on you. I had no idea my sister would intervene like that. Despite her lawful nature, it seems she¡¯s willing to bend the rules when it suits her.¡± He sighed, almost amused by the irony.


    Anya¡¯s eyes brimmed with fresh tears. ¡°Is Dad going to be mad at me because I didn¡¯t win?¡±


    Pandora¡¯s expression softened, his tone growing more paternal. ¡°I promise you, Nikolai will be proud of what you¡¯ve done. You uncovered crucial information about our enemies. Without it, we might have faced even greater losses in the future.¡± His voice was filled with admiration. ¡°You¡¯re already a prodigy among the Awakened, Anya. There isn¡¯t a human your age who can match your talent.¡±


    Anya sniffed, still clutching her bear but comforted by Pandora¡¯s words. ¡°But I wanted to win¡­¡± she whispered.


    Pandora¡¯s chuckle reverberated softly through the dim hallway, but there was a gentleness in it¡ªa warmth reserved for the girl at his side. ¡°There will be other chances, my dear,¡± he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. ¡°This battle may be lost, but the war is far from over.¡±


    Anya, still clutching her teddy bear, wiped at her tear-streaked face, her green eyes now alight with renewed determination. ¡°I want to try again,¡± she insisted, her voice firm. ¡°Can you do that memory thing you do? Get me into the facility, make them think I¡¯m a student there?¡±


    Pandora raised a brow, considering the idea. ¡°It is possible,¡± he mused, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. ¡°But I¡¯ll need to ask your father first. If we proceed with this plan, you¡¯d need to be placed in the Alpha facility. That¡¯s the only option if you don¡¯t want to end up a mindless monster like the rest.¡±


    Anya nodded eagerly, her black and white hair bouncing with her excitement. ¡°That works! There¡¯ll still be plenty of chances for me to run into Maxwell. Please, Uncle Pandora,¡± she pleaded, her voice softening with desperation. ¡°If anyone can pull this off, it¡¯s you. Not even the Bookkeeper would know I wasn¡¯t supposed to be there.¡±


    Pandora smiled faintly at her persistence, but his expression remained calculating. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he said, his tone measured, as though he were mentally piecing together the moving parts of an elaborate scheme. ¡°But let¡¯s shift focus for now. How¡¯s the progress within the other facilities?¡±


    Anya¡¯s face fell slightly, her enthusiasm dimming as she spoke. ¡°It¡¯s not great. We lost Calum¡ªthe Bookkeeper got him. Hummingbird barely made it out, but the Boogeyman ripped her arm off¡­ for fun.¡± She shook her head, her voice tinged with frustration. ¡°And the Boogeyman¡¯s been tearing into the Slayer. He should be able to win.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s expression darkened at the news, though his calm exterior betrayed little emotion. ¡°At least some chaos is brewing, though it seems our forces are taking a hit. What about the Beta facility?¡±


    Anya sighed heavily, her small frame tensing. ¡°Not much better. The Lich and the Butcherer have torn through most of our forces there. The only one left standing is Crow, and he¡¯s busy hunting that tentacle-head guy.¡±


    Pandora nodded slowly, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his side as he thought. ¡°I see. Send word to Finch, just in case. I want her on standby¡ªif things start falling apart for Crow, she¡¯s to extract him immediately.¡±


    Anya gave a firm nod, her expression softening as she smiled. ¡°Got it. I hope Dad¡¯s doing well on his mission.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s crimson eyes softened at the mention of her father. ¡°Your father is the strongest we have. Well, besides ¡®her,¡± he added with a knowing look. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, Nikolai can handle himself. Whatever mission he¡¯s on, he¡¯ll complete it. He always does.¡±


    A grin spread across Anya¡¯s face, her earlier disappointment dissolving in the warmth of Pandora¡¯s reassurances. ¡°You¡¯re right. He¡¯s the best.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s smile seemed gentle as he reached out to ruffle her hair, his demeanor still one of doting affection. ¡°I have some business to attend to, but I''ll be around if you need anything,¡± he said, his voice calm, almost soothing.


    ¡°Okay, good luck, Uncle,¡± Anya chirped, waving as she skipped off, blissfully unaware.


    As soon as the door to Pandora¡¯s private quarters clicked shut behind him, the mask of warmth and cheerfulness evaporated like mist under a harsh sun. His expression twisted, sharp and cruel, as his eyes darkened with malice. The sinister nature that lurked just beneath the surface now bared its teeth. He sank into his chair with a heavy sigh, a wicked grin pulling at his lips.


    ¡°God, that brat¡¯s voice is grating,¡± Pandora muttered, his fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest. ¡°Maybe I should just snap her neck and erase Nikolai¡¯s memory of her existence. Hell, it¡¯d be easier than dealing with her incessant whining.¡±


    He paused, considering the idea. ¡°No, if I mess with his memories again, it''ll fry what''s left of his brain. The idiot''s barely holding on as it is. And, unfortunately, that worthless child is the only thing stopping him from swallowing a bullet. What a tedious little anchor she¡¯s become.¡±


    Pandora leaned back, a dark chuckle rumbling deep in his throat. ¡°Oh, what would he do if he knew she wasn¡¯t even his daughter? To watch that soul-crushing realization dawn on him¡­ the agony, the heartbreak¡­ now that would be a priceless sight.¡± His laughter grew, a perverse joy blooming from the imagined scenario, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.


    His revelry was interrupted by a knock at the door. Irritated, he flicked his hand, the air around him growing heavy with invisible malice. Slowly, Pandora stood and crossed the room, opening the door with a practiced, neutral expression.


    Standing there was a random member of Noir, fidgeting nervously as he met Pandora¡¯s eyes. ¡°Excuse me, sir, there¡¯s something we ne¡ª¡±


    Before the man could finish his sentence, his head exploded in a violent spray of blood, the walls instantly painted red with gore. The soft splat of brain matter hitting the floor barely registered with Pandora, whose eyes lazily surveyed the mess. His face twisted in mock exasperation.


    ¡°So many nuisances today,¡± he sighed, as if bored by the tediousness of it all. He gave a slight wave of his hand, and the man¡¯s head began to reassemble itself, chunks of bone and flesh flying back to their original place. The body convulsed, then jerked upright as the skull sealed itself with a grotesque squelch.


    The reanimated man blinked, trembling as the life returned to his body. ¡°I-I died. I died!¡± he gasped, horrified, clutching at his newly restored head as his mind struggled to process what had happened.


    Pandora looked on, entirely unimpressed. ¡°Forget,¡± he commanded, his voice cold and casual, laced with a force that burrowed into the man¡¯s consciousness.


    The moment Pandora spoke, the man¡¯s expression went blank, his memories of the ordeal vanishing instantly as if they had never occurred. The man gave a quick, dazed nod and stumbled out of the room without another word.


    Pandora sighed again, this time out of sheer boredom. ¡°What a bother. I should leave him in pieces next time.¡± His lips curled into a sinister smile, the twisted pleasure of cruelty now dancing in his eyes.


    The room fell silent again, save for the soft hum of Pandora¡¯s dark thoughts. He returned to his seat, leaning back with a sigh of contentment, and for a brief moment, all was still. His mind, however, continued to plot in the shadows, weaving intricate schemes with malice-laced precision.


    ¡°One day, all these pawns will fall into place,¡± he whispered to himself, the grin never leaving his face.


    Pandora¡¯s gaze drifted lazily around the room as a swarm of glowing red moths fluttered through the air, their eerie, blood-colored glow casting an ominous light against the walls. The soft flutter of their wings was almost hypnotic, like a dark lullaby that echoed through the stillness. They danced in erratic patterns, swirling around the room like shadows with wings, their very presence amplifying the sinister energy that hung thick in the air.


    The room itself was a reflection of Pandora¡¯s twisted nature¡ªan unsettling blend of the mundane and the grotesque. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and journals, each one harboring secrets too dangerous for the world to know. The air was heavy with the scent of old parchment and ink, the faintest hint of something metallic¡ªblood, perhaps¡ªlingering beneath it all.


    Pandora¡¯s favored chair sat in the center, a plush and deceptively welcoming piece of furniture, worn in by years of use. It was where he spent countless hours scheming, plotting, and weaving the webs of manipulation that ensnared so many unfortunate souls. Even now, he sat there, his fingers lightly tracing the edges of the chair¡¯s armrests, as if savoring the comfort it provided amidst his chaotic thoughts.


    Across from the chair was a small, unassuming bed, simple and unremarkable, as if it were an afterthought in the grand design of his lair. But it was the walls that drew the eye¡ªthe walls lined with cases, each containing the delicate forms of butterflies, pinned and preserved in pristine condition. They were all meticulously arranged, as though Pandora had curated a personal gallery of beauty and death. Their iridescent wings shimmered faintly in the dim light, creating a haunting contrast to the red moths that flitted about freely.


    Each butterfly was unique, its vibrant colors dulled only slightly by time. Yet, to Pandora, they were more than mere decorations; they were trophies, reminders of those he had broken, manipulated, and destroyed. Each butterfly had a name next to it, reminding Pandora of each person he broke. Every one of them had been alive once, fluttering freely¡ªuntil Pandora had decided they were better suited as ornaments for his collection. Now, they remained frozen in time, their beauty trapped in the stillness, much like the people he manipulated, caught in the intricate webs of his control.


    He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded, his smile faint but present, as if in quiet reverence of his surroundings. The moths continued to circle the room, their crimson glow reflecting off the glass cases that housed the butterflies, casting twisted shadows across the room.


    ¡°How fitting,¡± Pandora murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "So delicate, so easily broken."


    The moths responded as though they understood, their movements becoming more erratic, more frenetic, like the desperate final flutters of a creature caught in a web. His eyes flickered toward them briefly, an amused smile tugging at his lips.


    ¡°I suppose I could add more to the collection soon,¡± he mused, his thoughts already spiraling into the next game, the next victim. "I wonder who will be next.¡±


    He laughed softly to himself, the sound low and dangerous, reverberating through the quiet room. The moths seemed to pulse with energy at the sound of his voice, their eerie red light growing brighter for just a moment before returning to their dim glow.


    Pandora stood, walking over to the nearest display case. His fingers hovered just above the glass, tracing the outline of a particularly vibrant butterfly¡ªa deep violet with flecks of gold. Next to it was the name, Emma. He stared at it for a moment longer, eyes gleaming with the hunger of a predator.


    ¡°So many wings to clip,¡± he whispered, his smile growing wider, more menacing. "And so little time."


    He turned away from the wall, his mind already racing with new possibilities. There was always more to be done, more strings to pull, more lives to destroy. The moths swirled in his wake as he moved, their crimson glow casting a hellish light upon his figure as he settled back into his chair.


    The room, with its unsettling beauty and quiet menace, seemed to hum with dark energy. And Pandora, at the center of it all, was its maestro¡ªa twisted conductor orchestrating a symphony of suffering, his heart as cold and still as the butterflies pinned forever to his wall.

 Chapter 37-Determination

    Eliza stood there, bloodied and battered, but defiant. Her once majestic form was a shadow of itself¡ªone of her horns shattered, her right arm severed, and Excalibur, the legendary sword that had defined her strength, lay in ruins at her feet. Every breath was agony. Her attempt to regenerate her arm with her dragon meta-ability had failed, blocked by some curse from the dark blade her opponent wielded. The most she could do was staunch the bleeding. Yet, through the pain, her eyes still burned with the fierce determination of a warrior who refused to yield.


    ¡°I will see this fight through to the end¡­ no matter the cost,¡± she growled, voice hoarse but unwavering.


    Across from her, Faker sneered. He stood untouched, unscathed, his malevolent aura swirling like a storm ready to devour all light. In his hand, Mordred, the dark twin to Excalibur, pulsated with an eerie glow, the weapon itself seemingly alive, feeding off the despair and destruction in the air.


    ¡°Mordred, look at her,¡± Faker mused aloud, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°She wants to keep going. How¡­adorable. But let¡¯s be honest, it¡¯s far more beneficial to leave you alive. You can scurry back to your precious boss and tell him my name. And after A.E.G.I.S. sees the pathetic state you¡¯re in, the fear will only spread further. You were never anything like that man, not even close. You¡¯re just¡­ a disappointment.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s vision blurred for a moment, the pain clouding her mind, but his words struck something deep within her. Her body screamed at her to give up, to collapse, to succumb to the inevitability of defeat. But her soul¡ªthe fire within¡ªroared louder.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been going on and on about this ¡®swordsman¡¯ the entire fight,¡± she spat, her voice filled with venom despite her weakened state. ¡°But the way you talk about him¡­ it¡¯s clear. You never got to finish your fight with him, did you? You ran away. Not only that, but you ran like a coward, just before he could kill you.¡±


    Faker¡¯s mocking grin faltered for the briefest second, a flicker of something far darker flashing in his eyes. His grip tightened on Mordred, and a low, dangerous growl escaped his lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re pathetic,¡± Eliza continued, ignoring the searing pain coursing through her body. ¡°You think you can intimidate me by comparing me to someone I don¡¯t even know? Well, I¡¯m not him, Faker. And neither are you. You never stood your ground. You ran from him like a spineless coward, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Faker''s expression twisted, his eyes now filled with an unhinged fury. ¡°What did you just say?¡± His voice, once mocking, now dripped with barely contained malice.


    Eliza took a step forward, her right arm severed, blood trickling down her temple, but her resolve never wavering. ¡°You heard me. You¡¯ve been hiding behind your puppets, swords, and little tricks. You¡¯re too afraid to fight anyone with your real body. That man probably isn¡¯t even around anymore, but you''re still hiding from him, aren¡¯t you? Terrified he¡¯ll finish what he started.¡±


    The air seemed to crackle with tension, Faker¡¯s entire demeanor shifting. His composed arrogance shattered, replaced by something raw, something primal. His eyes, wide with fury, locked onto Eliza, and Mordred trembled in his grasp as if feeding off his rage.


    ¡°You dare¡­¡± Faker hissed through clenched teeth, his voice low and menacing. ¡°You dare call me a coward?¡±


    ¡°You know it¡¯s true,¡± Eliza shot back, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. ¡°I may be broken, bleeding, but I¡¯m still here. I¡¯m still fighting. Meanwhile, you¡¯ve never stopped running. You¡¯re more afraid of that swordsman than of death itself.¡±


    ¡°Mordred, I¡¯m going to kill her,¡± Faker said, his voice chillingly calm. ¡°Then I¡¯ll slaughter every single person in this facility. One by one.¡±


    The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and yet, amid the darkness and destruction, a faint light began to pulse from the shattered remains of Excalibur. Though broken, the legendary blade still resonated with Eliza¡¯s unyielding will. The fragment of blade still attached to the hilt, glowed with an intensity that surpassed any power Eliza had ever drawn from it before, as if the sword itself recognized her refusal to surrender and answered her call.


    Faker raised Mordred high, the twisted blade humming with malevolent energy, ready to bring it crashing down in a lethal strike. The force of his downward slash would have obliterated any ordinary opponent. But Eliza was no ordinary opponent.


    With a surge of strength, she raised Excalibur¡¯s broken remains, meeting Mordred¡¯s dark energy with a blinding flash of light. Sparks flew as the two legendary swords clashed, the ground beneath them cracking under the sheer force of their collision. Eliza gritted her teeth, her arm shaking from the impact, but she held her ground.


    Summoning every ounce of willpower left in her battered body, Eliza deflected the blow, her movements swift and precise despite her injuries. Mordred¡¯s arc was thrown off-course, and Eliza seized the moment. In a fluid motion, she spun and slashed at Faker with all her might, her blade cutting through him like paper.


    For a brief, glorious second, Faker was split in half, his upper body sliding apart from the lower as blackened blood sprayed across the floor. Eliza¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest, but she did not waver. She had no time for relief.


    Faker¡¯s sundered torso fell to the ground, and then¡ªlike something out of a nightmare¡ªhis body began to writhe. From his severed halves, maggots poured forth, slithering and crawling over the bloody remains, wriggling together in a grotesque dance of regeneration. They coiled around his body like living sinews, pulling his flesh back together, reforming his grotesque shape with sickening ease.


    Eliza''s lip curled in disgust as Faker''s body reassembled itself, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. He looked down at his now-restored form, stretching his limbs as though nothing had happened. ¡°How tiresome,¡± he muttered with a smirk. ¡°Is this the best you can do?¡±


    Eliza met his gaze, her own eyes burning with the same fire that had kept her standing this long. She raised her sword again, a smirk forming on her bloodied lips. ¡°I wonder how many times I¡¯ll have to kill you,¡± she taunted, her voice cold and unwavering. ¡°Because I can¡¯t wait to find out.¡±


    Faker¡¯s grin twisted into something more feral, more dangerous, as Mordred¡¯s dark energy crackled around him. The game was far from over, and he could see in her eyes that Eliza wasn¡¯t going to back down.


    ¡°Then let''s see who breaks first,¡± he said, his voice laced with malice. The battle between them, the clash of wills, had only just begun.


    Eliza''s breath came in short, ragged bursts, her mind racing as she calculated her next move. Without hesitation, she rushed in, her body a blur of motion. From deep within her, she summoned her dragon fire, unleashing it in a torrent directly in front of Faker¡¯s face.


    The flames erupted from her mouth in a fierce blast of crimson heat, engulfing Faker in an instant. His twisted grin flickered in the blaze, his body igniting as the flames roared around him. His skin sizzled, burning away in the inferno. But before Eliza could press her advantage, Faker''s leg shot up with a sickening speed, morphing mid-motion into a grotesque scythe.


    With a fraction of a second to react, Eliza twisted her body just out of the blade¡¯s reach. The scythe whooshed past her face, close enough for her to feel the deadly wind it left in its wake.


    Faker wasted no time, immediately bringing Mordred down in a brutal, downward slash. Dark flames spiraled from the blade, twisting in the air like malevolent serpents. The ground beneath their feet scorched, cracked, and Eliza could feel the weight of the sword¡¯s power threatening to crush her.


    But she was faster. Dodging to the side, she slipped just out of the sword''s range, and with the remnants of Excalibur in her grip, she thrust it forward with all her might. The blade, though broken, surged with light, brighter than ever before.


    The jagged tip of Excalibur pierced straight through Faker¡¯s chest. A radiant explosion of power followed, the light bursting from his body, sending cracks of brilliance through his form. A gaping hole appeared in his torso, light pouring through him as he staggered back, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and fury.


    Before he had a chance to regenerate, Eliza struck again. She slashed across his arms with relentless fury, Excalibur carving through flesh and bone, severing his limbs in a swift, brutal motion. Faker dropped Mordred, the dark sword clattering to the ground, its flames dimming as it slipped from his grip.


    Eliza didn¡¯t stop. Her Berserker ability surged through her veins, amplifying her strength with every strike. Her attacks became more violent, more ferocious. She hacked at Faker''s body with unrestrained rage, each blow pushing her further into the crimson aura of her power. Her bloodied body trembled with adrenaline, but her determination only grew fiercer.


    Faker¡¯s body, now little more than shredded pieces of flesh, began to convulse. His severed form disintegrated into writhing masses of maggots, the swarm crawling and diving into the shadows like a flood of nightmares.


    ¡°Coward,¡± Eliza spat, her voice filled with disgust as she watched the remnants of Faker retreat into the darkness. Her breath was ragged, her grip tight around the broken Excalibur. She didn¡¯t let her guard down for even a second, knowing this fight was far from over.


    The shadows beneath Eliza¡¯s feet seemed to pulse with malevolent life, dark tendrils stretching out from the ground, twisting and writhing as they formed numerous clawed hands, all grasping hungrily toward her. Eliza''s instincts kicked in, her body moving with blinding speed as she dodged each attempt to pull her into the black abyss.


    But the shadows didn''t relent. They split apart, crawling and contorting, and from their depths, dark wolves emerged. Their eyes gleamed with an eerie light, their bodies made of pure shadow, rippling and shifting with every step. The wolves snarled and charged, their forms low and fast, circling her like predators preparing for a kill.


    Eliza, undeterred, raised the broken Excalibur high. Each time a wolf lunged at her, she met it with a powerful slash, the radiant light of the sword carving through their shadowy forms. Every swing cleaved them in two, the light searing their darkness, but for every wolf that fell, another rose from the depths of the shadows.


    Just when it seemed like the onslaught of wolves would overwhelm her, they began to shift. Their bodies melted into dark, oily forms, twisting in the air and splitting into countless ravens. The birds cawed and screeched, their wings flapping chaotically as they took to the skies in a blackened swarm, blotting out the dim light above.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The ravens converged, merging midair into a grotesque mass that began to take shape. Eliza watched, her heart pounding, as Faker reformed above her, now with massive wings¡ªa monstrous blend of raven feathers and dragon scales. He hovered in the air, his eyes gleaming with madness. His left arm had transformed into a dragon''s head, its jaws snapping with hunger.


    A guttural growl emanated from the dragon head, and without warning, it opened its maw, unleashing a torrent of shadow breath. The dark miasma surged toward Eliza, the very air around it warping as it sought to consume her life force.


    Eliza leaped to the side, narrowly dodging the deadly attack. The miasma hissed as it passed her, dissolving the ground where it touched. She quickly gathered her strength, summoning her own dragon fire deep within. Flames erupted from her mouth once more, burning a brilliant red as she aimed them directly at Faker.


    Faker countered with his own shadow breath, the dark miasma clashing with her fiery blaze. The two forces met in midair, a violent explosion of light and darkness. For a moment, the power between them was equal, the struggle fierce. But Faker''s wings beat furiously, propelling him forward through the clash.


    He descended with terrifying speed, his dragon-head arm lunging toward her, jaws wide open to devour her whole. Eliza saw the attack coming and, in a swift motion, brought Excalibur up. She dodged to the side and slashed horizontally, the broken blade still gleaming with unparalleled power.


    Her strike was perfect. The sword cleaved through Faker¡¯s torso, cutting him cleanly in half. His body split, the top half spinning away, black blood spraying into the air.


    But Faker''s severed form didn¡¯t fall. The surrounding shadows swirled, pulling his dismembered body back into their depths. Once again, his laughter echoed through the room, eerie and haunting, as his form retreated into the darkness.


    ¡°You can carve me up as much as you like, Slayer. I¡¯ll always come back,¡± Faker¡¯s voice taunted from the shadows.


    Eliza gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on Excalibur. Her body was screaming in pain, her strength waning. But she wasn¡¯t done. Not yet. She wouldn''t stop until Faker was destroyed, no matter how many times he reformed.


    Faker''s frustration was palpable as he howled, ¡°Just die already!¡± His voice echoed, thick with rage. From the shadows beneath them, blades shot out in every direction, razor-sharp tendrils of darkness slicing through the air. A few caught Eliza across her side, leaving shallow cuts, but nothing that her regenerative abilities couldn¡¯t handle. Her draconic aura flared, the minor wounds already sealing themselves shut.


    With a determined snarl, Eliza drove the broken Excalibur deep into the ground, piercing through the heart of the shadow. The blade, despite its damaged state, pulsed with an intensity that belied its shattered form. In an instant, a brilliant light burst forth, shattering the darkness.


    The shadows exploded outward, disintegrating into a writhing mass of thousands of maggots that scattered into the air. The grotesque creatures crawled over one another, multiplying unnaturally as they began to spill across the battlefield. They replicated endlessly, a nightmarish cycle of bodies birthing new ones, a continuous tide of filth.


    ¡°Enough of this!¡± Eliza roared, her eyes narrowing in disgust. She swung Excalibur again, its radiant light sweeping through the air, disintegrating the maggots as they crawled closer. But no matter how many she cut down, they just kept coming, relentless and multiplying faster than she could slay them.


    The maggots didn''t stop there. They began cloning themselves at an alarming rate, one crawling out of the mouth of another, and then another, in an endless cycle of repulsive duplication. The air became thick with the squirming creatures as they floated upward, condensing into grotesque eyeballs that hovered in the air. Each eye gleamed with malice, their gaze locked on Eliza.


    Their lids flickered open, revealing malevolent, bloodshot irises. Without warning, they charged at her from all directions, exploding one by one in fiery bursts. Flames licked at her skin, but her dragon scales, thick and resilient, shielded her from the worst of it. The explosions only left a few scorched marks on her body, but the onslaught never seemed to end.


    In the chaos, Faker reappeared, lunging forward with inhuman speed. His fist collided with her face, the blow rattling her skull. He didn¡¯t stop, punching her again and again. Each impact was fast and brutal, yet Eliza¡¯s resolve was stronger than ever. She gritted her teeth, blood dripping from her nose, but the pain barely registered.


    With a growl of fury, she swung her sword in a deadly arc. Excalibur, though shattered, was still formidable in her grasp. It cleaved through Faker¡¯s neck effortlessly, his head flying from his body once again. His decapitated form stumbled back as his headless corpse began to dissolve into maggots once more.


    But Eliza, undeterred, wiped the blood from her face and scoffed. ¡°Is that all you''ve got? Those punches don''t even hurt,¡± she sneered, her eyes gleaming with savage confidence.


    Faker''s head reformed in the distance, his face twisting in maddened rage. ¡°You¡¯ll regret that,¡± he growled, his voice dripping with venom.


    But Eliza only grinned, flames crackling between her teeth. ¡°Come on then, coward,¡± she spat, preparing for the next round. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can make me feel anything.¡±


    Faker¡¯s patience was visibly unraveling. His once calm, mocking demeanor had been replaced by an unhinged, seething frustration. His eyes flared with dark energy, and his hands trembled as he clenched the hilt of Mordred. ¡°You¡­ insufferable wretch!¡± he spat, the shadows swirling more violently around him, warping and twisting like a living storm.


    The maggots that had scattered in the explosion reformed again, but this time with grotesque speed. Faker¡¯s body reassembled itself in a sickening display, his limbs jerking unnaturally as the creatures fused into his form. His wings, still a horrid mix of dragon and raven, stretched wide as he let out a furious roar, the sound shaking the very walls around them.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re strong? You¡¯re just a weak, broken imitation!¡± Faker shouted, his voice carrying a maddened edge. His form flickered in and out of the shadows, becoming harder to track, harder to hit. ¡°You don¡¯t even realize you¡¯re just a puppet, swinging a sword that doesn¡¯t belong to you!¡±


    Eliza, however, stood her ground, her eyes narrowing in determination. Her body was bruised and battered, but her spirit burned brighter than ever. The crimson aura of her Berserker ability flared once more, wrapping her in a fiery, chaotic blaze of power. The broken Excalibur in her hand pulsed with each beat of her heart, as if the sword itself refused to give in despite its damaged state.


    ¡°Your words mean nothing, Faker!¡± Eliza shot back, her voice unshaken. ¡°I don¡¯t care about your past, or your pathetic grudge with that swordsman. I am the Slayer, even the strongest monster, will be slain by me!¡±


    Without warning, Faker surged forward, his body morphing mid-flight into a whirlwind of darkness and claws. He swung Mordred down with reckless fury, the blade seething with dark flames. Eliza parried, the force of the blow sending a shockwave through the air. Their swords clashed again, sparks flying as the dark flames of Mordred battled against the radiant light of Excalibur.


    Faker snarled, his face twisted with anger. ¡°You talk too much!¡± His free hand morphed into a grotesque claw, and he slashed at her midsection, dark tendrils snaking out from his fingers to ensnare her.


    But Eliza was faster. She ducked under his swing, her footwork swift and precise, and in one fluid motion, drove the broken Excalibur into Faker¡¯s abdomen. The blade glowed fiercely as it pierced his flesh, releasing a blinding flash of light that illuminated the entire battlefield. Faker let out a howl of pain, staggering backward as his form momentarily destabilized.


    ¡°You think this will stop me?¡± he growled, his voice layered with malice.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll keep cutting until there¡¯s nothing left of you,¡± Eliza hissed through gritted teeth. She lunged again, slashing at his chest with ferocity, each strike more powerful than the last. Her Berserker ability heightened her senses, making every movement sharper, faster, deadlier. Each blow from Excalibur tore through Faker¡¯s form, sending chunks of shadow and flesh flying.


    As Eliza¡¯s blade carved through Faker, the seemingly endless stream of maggots that comprised his body writhed, spilling from every gash she inflicted. The broken fragments of Excalibur glowed with righteous fury, but it was not enough. Each strike, no matter how vicious, seemed futile against the sheer, grotesque power of Faker¡¯s regeneration. His flesh was reborn, again and again, from the swarm of maggots, and the madness in his eyes only deepened.


    ¡°Enough of this!¡± Faker screamed, his voice now laced with a dangerous edge, a crack in the calm veneer he had worn throughout their brutal duel. The ground trembled violently beneath them, the air thickening with the suffocating presence of malevolent power.


    With a deliberate and chilling motion, Faker lifted Mordred, the blade pulsating with a sinister energy. ¡°Mordred,¡± he murmured, almost lovingly, ¡°it¡¯s been a while, but let¡¯s use our full power. Soul Release.¡±


    Without hesitation, he plunged the blade into his own chest, and what followed was nothing short of a nightmare. The maggots that comprised his body began to squirm and writhe, not in regeneration but in agony. A guttural scream echoed through the room as each maggot twisted and contorted, their grotesque forms warping into something far more abominable. The air grew thick with a dark, oppressive energy, and a sickening crackle of dark lightning danced along the edges of Faker¡¯s form.


    Mordred began to dissolve into his body, merging with the flesh, as if blade and body became indistinguishable. His form twisted, elongated, and morphed, the once humanoid figure now becoming something else entirely. Black armor, ancient and jagged, materialized across his body, snapping into place like the carapace of a demon. The shadows themselves seemed to cling to him, warping into the shape of a living, breathing abomination. His once pale skin was now riddled with draconic scales, gleaming like onyx under the dim light, and where his face should have been, there was now only a gaping, monstrous maw filled with razor-sharp teeth.


    Wings sprouted from his back, enormous, twisted things¡ªa grotesque fusion of raven and dragon wings, the feathers and scales slick with dark, dripping ichor. His eyes glowed a hellish red.


    ¡°I¡¯m sick of this charade,¡± Faker growled, his voice no longer resembling anything human. It rumbled, low and guttural, dripping with venom and malice, reverberating through the room like the final toll of a death knell. ¡°No more games.¡±


    His very presence warped the surrounding space. Shadows bent to his will, crawling across the walls like a tide of pure darkness. The air turned cold, the light of Excalibur dimming in the face of such overwhelming evil.


    Eliza could feel the weight of his transformation pressing down on her, suffocating her, but she refused to yield. Her breath was ragged, and her body was battered, but her spirit remained unbroken. She steadied her grip on the broken Excalibur, its light flickering in response to her unyielding will. Even in its damaged state, the sword pulsed with defiance.


    Amid the suffocating darkness, as the grotesque form of Faker loomed over her, Eliza heard it¡ªa voice unlike any she had ever known. It cut through the chaos of battle like a blade through flesh, clear, calm, and brimming with an ancient power that surged through her very soul. It was a voice that thrummed with authority, commanding yet comforting, and it filled her veins with a fire she hadn¡¯t realized she possessed.


    ¡°Do you want to win?¡± the voice asked, its tone almost conversational, yet laced with an undeniable power. ¡°Are you willing to do whatever it takes to survive?¡±


    The question seemed to reverberate through every fiber of her being, shaking her to her core. The weight of it hung in the air, as if time itself had paused, waiting for her answer.


    Faker¡¯s monstrous form circled her, his grotesque wings casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the battlefield whole. Yet at that moment, Eliza felt detached from the world around her, as though nothing else existed except this voice, this presence.


    ¡°That man is right,¡± the voice continued, soft but unwavering. ¡°You¡¯re very similar to him, which means you can wield my true power.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, the realization dawning on her like a sudden burst of light amid darkness. She knew who was speaking to her. She had known all along, deep down, but had never dared to acknowledge it.


    The voice belonged to her sword¡ªExcalibur.


    Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of the revelation settled in. The blade, broken and shattered in her hands, had always been more than just a weapon. It was a conduit, a vessel for something far greater. And now, at this moment of absolute despair, it was speaking to her directly.


    ¡°You can call me Arthur,¡± the voice said.

 Chapter 38-King

    The hallway seemed to close around Eliza, darkness swallowing every inch as Faker¡¯s new form emerged. His armored body radiated an aura of pure malice, the air thick with it. Pitch-black feathers flowed off him like a living shroud, cascading to the floor in a river of shadow. Each feather seemed to pulse with energy, burning her skin and sapping her strength whenever she brushed against them, as though the very essence of death clung to them.


    Eyes¡ªcountless, glowing eyes¡ªblinked open within the abyss, each one fixating on her with a sinister, predatory hunger. They watched, unblinking, surrounding her, their gaze relentless. The weight of Faker¡¯s transformation was oppressive, his presence consuming everything in sight, drowning out even the faintest hope of escape.


    But Eliza stood firm. Though battered, though bleeding, though the suffocating darkness drained her energy, she refused to yield. Her grip tightened around the shattered hilt of Excalibur, the broken blade still glowing with defiant light, as if to remind her that hope still existed within the cracks.


    She took a deep breath, steeling herself as the oppressive atmosphere pressed down on her. Each breath felt heavier than the last, the weight of Faker¡¯s power threatening to suffocate her. But even with her body worn and ravaged by the battle, her spirit remained unbroken. The flame of her resolve burned as fiercely as ever.


    Arthur¡¯s voice echoed in her mind, regal and commanding, yet with an edge of disdain. ¡°I want you to win. Destroy this damn creature. Even my previous master couldn¡¯t. My ego has awakened for this purpose. He is one of the few enemies who still walks this era, and I will make you the one true king of this world, as I once made that man.¡±


    Time seemed to warp and stretch around Eliza, the battlefield fading into nothingness as reality shifted. The oppressive darkness of Faker¡¯s transformation melted away, and suddenly she found herself in a vast, ruined throne room. The air was thick with the smell of blood and decay, the stone walls cracked and crumbling under the weight of time. Scattered across the floor were the corpses of knights, their armor rusted, and their bodies long decomposed, painting a grim picture of the past.


    At the center of the room, slouched upon a throne drenched in blood, sat a young man. His long hair flowed in waves, and his piercing azure eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. A crimson fur coat draped over his shoulders, the remnants of regal attire clinging to him like faded memories of grandeur. His crown sat crooked atop his head, and beside him, leaning casually against the throne, was Excalibur, pristine and untouched by the surrounding decay.


    ¡°I truly have the worst luck with my champions,¡± Arthur muttered, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°First, there was a man whose powers constantly killed him, and now you¡ªbattered and broken.¡± He let out a bitter laugh.


    Eliza blinked, disoriented by the sudden change in scenery. ¡°Where am I?¡± she demanded, trying to steady her racing thoughts.


    Arthur sighed, gesturing lazily to the throne room. ¡°The world of my subconscious, or perhaps a memory¡ªone I¡¯m forever trapped in. This was the place of my greatest failure. The place I died.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes scanned the gruesome scene, taking in the fallen knights, the shattered remnants of a kingdom that once was. ¡°What a sad scene,¡± she said coldly.


    Arthur¡¯s eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and sorrow as he stared at the corpses. ¡°He told me the same thing.¡± His voice softened for a moment. ¡°Sad, indeed. That blade Faker wields? It¡¯s my daughter¡ªher ego crystallized. She was the one who killed me, but that story is from a time long past.¡±


    The revelation struck Eliza, but there was no time for shock or questions. ¡°Can I really win?¡± she asked, her voice quieter now, her determination wavering just slightly.


    Arthur¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°By shattering the blade, you¡¯ve unlocked my true power¡ªone even stronger than merely releasing the artifact. But there¡¯s a price. Our souls will be bound until the day of your death.¡±


    Eliza didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes. I accept the pact.¡±


    Arthur smiled darkly. ¡°Good. My test is simple. Survive.¡±


    With that, he rose from the throne, lazily grabbing Excalibur. His movements were slow, almost mocking, but there was a deadly grace to him. He raised the sword high above his head, and in an instant, brought it down in a devastating arc. A radiant light exploded from the blade, obliterating Eliza where she stood.


    For a moment, there was nothing. No pain, no sense of time¡ªjust a blinding void. Then, just as quickly as she had been destroyed, Eliza found herself whole again, standing exactly where she had been before.


    Arthur¡¯s laugh echoed through the room. ¡°I wonder how many times you¡¯ll die before I¡¯m satisfied.¡±


    Eliza barely had time to blink before Arthur lunged forward, moving with an elegance that belied his mocking demeanor. Excalibur glowed with an otherworldly light in his hand, a symbol of absolute destruction and power. His grip was firm but effortless, as though the sword was simply an extension of his body.


    The moment his blade descended, Eliza¡¯s world exploded into light and pain.


    She died again¡ªthis time, the sword cleaved through her chest with such precision that she was gone before she even felt the pain. Her vision faded to black for what felt like the briefest of moments, and then, just like before, she was back. The throne room reassembled itself in her vision, Arthur standing before her, calm and unfazed.


    ¡°Again,¡± Arthur said with a casual tone, his eyes gleaming. ¡°This is hardly worth the trouble.¡±


    Eliza clenched her jaw, summoning her strength, but it didn¡¯t matter. Before she could even take a step, Arthur was upon her once more. His movements were fluid, faster than any mortal sword fighter she had ever encountered. He stepped to the side with a graceful pivot, his sword slashing upward in a perfect arc, cutting through the air with a sound that resembled a whisper of death.


    Excalibur sliced cleanly through her neck, severing her head from her body. The world tilted, her vision spun, and in the span of a heartbeat, her consciousness blinked out again. Darkness consumed her.


    And then, she returned.


    Eliza gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for her throat, finding it intact¡ªwhole, as though the previous blow had never happened. She staggered slightly, but there was no time to gather her bearings. Arthur was already moving again.


    ¡°This is the extent of your will?¡± Arthur taunted, his voice echoing through the ruined hall. ¡°I expected more, but I suppose it takes time for a champion to be born.¡±


    He thrust Excalibur forward, its tip piercing through Eliza¡¯s heart. The burst of energy was instantaneous, obliterating her completely from existence. Her body disintegrated, the raw, pure energy from the blade vaporizing her in an instant.


    Again. She was dead.


    Again. She returned.


    Each time her body reformed, her breathing grew heavier, her heart pounding faster. Eliza¡¯s mind raced, trying to anticipate the next attack, but Arthur¡¯s swordsmanship was unparalleled. He was relentless, his strikes coming with such speed and precision that even her heightened reflexes couldn¡¯t keep up. His technique was flawless¡ªbeautiful, even. Every movement of his blade was like a carefully choreographed dance, and she was the unwilling partner, caught in an endless waltz of death and rebirth.


    Arthur¡¯s eyes glimmered with a cold amusement as he spun on his heel, Excalibur slicing through the air like a deadly ribbon of light. The edge of the sword cut across her midsection, splitting her body in two. Eliza didn¡¯t even have time to scream as her vision faded once more.


    And again¡­ she returned.


    ¡°I wonder,¡± Arthur mused as he twirled the sword lazily in his hand. ¡°How many times do I have to kill you before you start learning?  Perhaps you¡¯re just not cut out for this.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s breathing was ragged now, her body aching from the constant deaths, but her will refused to falter. Each time she came back, she felt her determination hardening. Her mind screamed at her to find a way¡ªany way¡ªto survive longer than a few moments.


    Arthur raised Excalibur again, this time moving in for a clean, diagonal cut aimed at her torso. Eliza gritted her teeth, barely managing to sidestep the attack, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The sheer force of his swing sent shockwaves through the air, and the edge of the blade still grazed her arm, severing it completely.


    Eliza''s vision blurred as she reformed again, her body whole but still aching with phantom pain from every death. She rose to her feet, breathing heavily, eyes locked on Arthur. He stood there, waiting, almost bored, Excalibur gleaming in his hand, ready to strike her down again.


    But this time was different. This time, Eliza wasn¡¯t just surviving¡ªshe was learning.


    Arthur moved in a blur, Excalibur cutting through the air as it aimed for her throat. Yet, for the first time since this brutal test had begun, Eliza saw the attack coming. She didn¡¯t think¡ªshe reacted. With a sudden burst of movement, she ducked, narrowly avoiding the lethal blow. The blade grazed her cheek, but she was still alive.


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    Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. ¡°Impressive. You''re adapting.¡±


    Before she could respond, Arthur swung again, faster this time, his sword arcing toward her torso. Eliza leaped back, her draconic reflexes kicking in. Her feet barely touched the ground before she had to dodge once more¡ªanother deadly strike aimed for her legs.


    She twisted, her body moving with instinctive precision. Each swing of Excalibur was met with a dodge, a sidestep, or a desperate roll. The once-perfect sword strikes that had killed her instantly now had to be repeated. He was faster, stronger, and immeasurably more skilled, but she was no longer helpless.


    Arthur''s strikes grew more aggressive, his attacks more unpredictable, but Eliza could sense the rhythm in his movements. Her draconic senses heightened with every dodge, each miss sharpening her reflexes, like a predator learning its prey¡¯s pattern. His form, once an impenetrable wall of perfection, now had subtle openings, minor gaps she could exploit¡ªif only she could find the strength.


    Excalibur came down in another deadly arc. This time, Eliza spun on her heel, barely avoiding the strike as the sword cleaved the stone floor beneath her. Without a weapon, without even a scrap of armor, she continued to fight back¡ªmoving, ducking, dodging, and enduring. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises, but the fire in her heart was stronger than the pain.


    ¡°Do you feel it?¡± Arthur called out, his voice echoing across the ruined throne room as he lashed out with another lightning-fast strike, which Eliza narrowly sidestepped. ¡°That primal fear of death? It drives you forward, and sharpens your every sense. It¡¯s exhilarating, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Eliza growled through her teeth, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. ¡°No matter how many times I¡¯m killed, I won''t give up, you can''t kill me in any way that will matter.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s smirk turned into a grin. ¡°Good. That¡¯s what makes a true king.¡±


    He lunged at her again, Excalibur aimed straight for her chest. Eliza moved to dodge, but this time, Arthur anticipated her. The tip of his blade caught her in the side, slicing deep into her ribs. She gasped in pain, her vision dimming as blood poured from the wound.


    For a moment, she thought it was over again¡ªbut then, something inside her flared.


    She twisted away, wrenching herself free from the sword before Arthur could finish the job. Her feet found solid ground as she stumbled back, clutching her side. The wound was deep, but it wasn¡¯t fatal. Not this time.


    Arthur frowned, clearly displeased. He moved in again, his attacks coming faster and faster now, each one meant to overwhelm her. He swung for her legs¡ªshe jumped. He slashed for her chest¡ªshe twisted aside. He aimed for her throat, but Eliza ducked, rolling out of the way before rising to her feet again, her breath heavy but determined.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going down like this,¡± Eliza growled, her voice low but full of fire.


    Arthur stopped, tilting his head in curiosity. ¡°You¡¯re surviving longer than I expected.¡±


    In a flash, he lunged at her again, Excalibur gleaming with lethal intent. Eliza braced herself, ready to dodge, but this time, Arthur¡¯s speed caught her off guard. His blade grazed her stomach, and she felt the searing pain as blood poured from the fresh wound. But instead of crumpling to the ground, she kept moving.


    Arthur¡¯s next strike came faster, aiming for her head. Eliza ducked low, the blade passing harmlessly over her. She pushed forward, rolling to the side, narrowly dodging another deadly slash. Each move she made now wasn¡¯t just survival¡ªit was instinct. Pure, unrefined battle instinct, honed by countless deaths and rebirths.


    Arthur swung again, this time with more force. The sword was a blur, but Eliza saw it¡ªjust for a moment¡ªa flicker of an opening. She dodged, her body reacting on its own, moving like water as the sword narrowly missed her by inches.


    And for the first time, Arthur faltered.


    Eliza grinned, blood dripping from her lips. She had pushed him. He wasn¡¯t invincible.


    Arthur snarled, his patience wearing thin. ¡°You¡¯re prolonging the inevitable. You cannot beat me like this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to beat you,¡± Eliza panted, her voice defiant. ¡°I just need to survive.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s face twisted with annoyance. He rushed forward again, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. But Eliza was ready this time. She dodged the first strike, then the second. His attacks, while still impossibly fast, were no longer as flawless. She could see the cracks in his form, the frustration building in his movements.


    With a furious roar, Arthur swung Excalibur downward, but Eliza leaped to the side, avoiding the blow entirely. His sword struck the ground with a deafening crash, sending debris flying in all directions. Eliza used the momentary distraction to roll forward, narrowly escaping another lethal strike aimed at her back.


    She was battered, bloodied, and on the brink of collapse, but each time Arthur tried to kill her, she grew faster. Stronger. More determined.


    Arthur¡¯s eyes burned with a furious light as he raised Excalibur high once more. ¡°Then let¡¯s see how long you can last!¡±


    Arthur swung Excalibur with blinding speed, the blade cutting through the air like lightning. Eliza, drenched in sweat and blood, dodged to the side with all the strength she could muster. Her body screamed in agony, each move pushing her beyond her limits. But her focus was razor-sharp. Every time she had been struck down, her resolve had only grown stronger.


    Arthur¡¯s attacks came faster, his frustration boiling over. ¡°I forgot how much fun this was, fighting someone else¡± he roared, Excalibur slicing downward in a powerful arc.


    Eliza ducked at the last moment, the sword narrowly missing her by inches. She felt the wind from the blade graze her skin, her heart pounding in her ears. She was running on pure instinct now, her body a blur of motion as she dodged, weaved, and evaded each strike. Arthur was relentless, his attacks unyielding¡ªbut they were no longer perfect. He was losing his composure, and Eliza could see it.


    And then, she saw her opening.


    Arthur swung wide, Excalibur arcing too far to his right. Eliza lunged forward, her body moving on pure adrenaline. She was weaponless, and exhausted, but she had one last ounce of strength left in her.


    Her fist clenched, muscles tensed, she thrust her arm forward.


    With every bit of force she could summon, Eliza''s fist connected with Arthur¡¯s face.


    The impact was staggering. Arthur''s head snapped to the side, his grip on Excalibur faltering for the briefest of moments. The look of shock in his eyes was unmistakable as he stumbled back, momentarily disoriented.


    Eliza stood there, panting heavily, her fist still raised, as if she couldn¡¯t believe she had landed the blow. Her body screamed in protest, but she stood firm, eyes locked on Arthur.


    Arthur straightened, rubbing his jaw, his expression a mix of rage and amusement. ¡°You¡­ actually hit me.¡± His voice was low, and dark, but there was a hint of something else beneath it¡ªrespect.


    Eliza¡¯s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, her body trembling from the exertion. Blood dripped from her lips, her muscles screaming in agony. And yet, she stood¡ªalive, defiant. ¡°I told you¡­¡± she gasped, voice raw but firm, ¡°I''m not going down¡­ without a fight.¡±


    Arthur stared at her, eyes narrowing for a moment. Then, he chuckled¡ªa low, deep sound that echoed through the ruined throne room. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, the faintest trace of a smirk forming. ¡°Perhaps¡­¡± he murmured, his azure eyes gleaming with a new light. ¡°Perhaps you''re not as hopeless as I thought.¡±


    Eliza blinked, still struggling to stay on her feet, confusion mixing with her exhaustion. Then, Arthur straightened, gripping Excalibur with both hands, a sense of finality in his gaze. ¡°Fine. You pass,¡± he declared. His voice was calm, almost regal. ¡°I will allow you to wield my full power.¡±


    Eliza''s legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor, utterly spent. Despite the ache in every fiber of her body, a small smile crept onto her face¡ªvictory. She had earned his respect. She had survived.


    Arthur looked down at her, the smirk fading as he raised Excalibur high above his head. ¡°Goodbye,¡± he said softly, almost tenderly.


    Her eyes widened as she watched, helpless, as an overwhelming light began to build at the tip of the blade. It wasn''t just light¡ªthis was something far beyond anything she''d witnessed before. It felt like the very essence of power, raw and pure, burning with the fury of an ancient king¡¯s might. It surged outward, filling the room with a radiant, almost holy energy.


    Eliza, weakened but still conscious, could only stare in awe. The light enveloped everything, erasing the darkness, the corpses, the ruined throne, and even Arthur himself. For a split second, as her vision blurred, she could see the world around her disintegrating in that blinding brilliance.


    ¡°Behold,¡± Arthur¡¯s voice echoed like a divine command. ¡°The true power I wield. The power to shatter worlds.  A light that burns the heavens, and purifies the hells.¡±


    And then the sword came down.


    The light consumed her completely. Every atom of her being felt as though it was burning, yet the pain was fleeting. She didn¡¯t have time to scream or resist. The obliteration was instant, total. And in that final moment, just before everything dissolved into nothingness, Eliza''s last thought was not of fear or despair.


    In that fleeting moment, Eliza had experienced awe¡ªpure, unfiltered awe. The brilliance of Excalibur''s true form was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. It wasn¡¯t just power. It was perfection, an ancient beauty that transcended mortal understanding. Arthur''s strength was limitless, a force that could reshape the world, and she had touched it, if only for an instant.


    And then, like a dream fading, she returned to the battlefield.


    No time had passed for Faker. He loomed in the oppressive darkness, his grotesque form still wrapped in shadow and feathers, eyes glaring at her from every angle. Eliza stood, battered and broken, her right arm still severed, the shattered remnants of Excalibur clutched in her remaining hand. Her body was at its limit¡ªone of her horns was shattered, and her energy was nearly depleted. Yet something had changed. Inside her, she felt Arthur¡¯s presence. His strength, his power, was now hers to call upon.


    But only once.


    She knew it. She could feel it in her bones¡ªcalling upon Arthur¡¯s full power would cost her everything. If she unleashed it, she would collapse. But it would be enough. Enough to end this fight, to obliterate Faker''s body. The trick was finding the right moment. She had to wait for him to expose all of his weaknesses, to catch him completely off-guard, and destroy every fragment of him in a single, devastating blow.


    Faker¡¯s voice broke the tense silence, his tone low and mocking. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± he mused, his twisted face curling into a cruel smile. ¡°You look familiar. I wonder¡­ have we met before?¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on the broken hilt of Excalibur. ¡°No,¡± she replied coldly. ¡°I¡¯ve never been on any missions that involved you.¡±


    But Faker¡¯s smile only widened, dark amusement flickering in his many eyes. ¡°Wait a minute,¡± he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°I remember now. You look just like your mother.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s heart froze.


    Faker leaned forward, his gaze predatory. ¡°It¡¯s a shame I didn¡¯t get to kill you that night.¡±

 Chapter 39-Puppet Show

    As Faker stood there, deep in thought, something grotesque began to happen. His skeleton slowly crawled out of his body, cracking and snapping as it separated from the amalgam of flesh and darkness. With each step, the bones clattered together, and, piece by piece, a new form began to take shape¡ªflesh re-knitting itself over the skeleton, clothing weaving back into existence around him.


    Meanwhile, his original body, left behind, twisted into something monstrous. A hulking mass of shadow and nightmares, its form oozed with malice. Draconic scales emerged from the mass, turning it into a grotesque hybrid¡ªa towering, armored beast with glowing red eyes burning through the darkness. The abomination crawled toward Eliza, its claws dragging across the floor, each movement sending a shiver through the atmosphere, as if the air recoiled from its presence.


    Now standing in his new form, Faker had a distracted air about him, his hand morphing into a grotesque array of miniature puppets. Each one took on the appearance of different faces¡ªdistorted, familiar, yet unrecognizable. He cycled through them one by one, his frustration growing.


    ¡°No, not this one¡­ no, not that one,¡± Faker muttered, his brows furrowed in concentration as his hand rapidly shifted through more faces, each a hollow representation of past victims. "Damn it. She looks so familiar, why can''t I remember? It''s just one face out of a couple million¡­ how hard could it be?¡±


    His puppets morphed quicker, his frustration palpable, like a boiling storm ready to unleash. Each face blurred into the next, flickering across time and memory. The remnants of his former self¡ªthis collection of fragmented lives¡ªmocked his inability to pinpoint the source of his unease.


    Eliza braced herself as the shadow monster lumbered toward her, its six limbs scuttling across the ground with a grotesque, unnatural speed. Its dragon-like head, adorned with a single, menacing red eye, locked onto her with predatory intent. The black feathers that covered its entire body seemed to writhe and ripple, emitting a chilling aura that sapped the very life from the air around it. She could feel it¡ªjust standing near this thing was draining her, each breath growing heavier.


    But Eliza stood firm, gripping the broken Excalibur in her remaining hand. She wasn¡¯t backing down. This monster, no matter how twisted or nightmarish, wouldn¡¯t break her spirit.


    With a low growl, the creature lunged, its claws raking the ground as it hurled itself at Eliza. She dodged, barely avoiding the swipe of its razor-sharp talons, but even the proximity to those feathers left her feeling drained, like her strength was being pulled from her bones.


    The monster roared, its voice a guttural mix of a dragon¡¯s fury and something far darker. It swung again, faster this time. Eliza dodged to the side, her broken Excalibur glowing faintly in her hand, but the blade¡¯s power seemed diminished in the presence of the monster¡¯s life-stealing aura.


    "You''re nothing but a shadow of yourself," Eliza spat, deflecting another strike with the remnants of Excalibur. She pressed forward, slashing at the creature''s flank, but the blade barely made contact before the feathers sapped the energy from her strike.


    The creature bellowed, furious now, and leaped into the air, bringing all six limbs down like a crashing wave of darkness. Eliza rolled out of the way just in time, but she felt her energy draining even faster with every moment spent near it. Her breathing became more labored, but she gritted her teeth and refused to give in.


    Meanwhile, Faker stood off to the side, his frustration mounting as he continued to cycle through faces with his puppet hand. His face twisted with irritation, his voice dripping with malice.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I remember you?!¡± he hissed, the puppet faces blurring faster, the memories slipping through his grasp. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t be this hard! You¡¯re just another worthless human!¡±


    Eliza seized the opening. While Faker was distracted by his growing frustration, she darted forward, driving the broken Excalibur into the creature¡¯s chest. Light erupted from the blade, momentarily burning through the feathers and striking deep into the shadowy mass. The creature howled in agony, its eye flaring with rage, and it swiped at her with a claw. Eliza stumbled back, barely avoiding the deadly blow, but the damage had been done.


    The monster staggered, black smoke billowing from the wound as its body shuddered. Faker¡¯s face twisted with fury as his creature faltered.


    ¡°Enough of this!¡± Faker roared, his eyes wild with frustration. He raised his arm, commanding the monster to attack with renewed ferocity. But as it lunged again, Eliza was ready.


    In a final burst of energy, she dodged to the side, driving her fist into the creature¡¯s eye, shattering it in an explosion of light and shadow. The beast let out a deafening screech, collapsing in on itself as the life force it had stolen was released all at once.


    ¡°Damn it, stop being annoying while I¡¯m trying to think,¡± Faker complained, snapping his fingers as the corpse of the shadow monster began to convulse.


    Eliza¡¯s breath was ragged as she stood amidst the dissipating remains of the shadow monster. She had barely any strength left, but her determination remained unbroken. The sudden convulsing of the creature¡¯s corpse made her tense, eyes narrowing as it shifted and twisted unnaturally.


    Before her, the grotesque amalgamation reformed, stretching into a new shape¡ªthis time, that of a woman clad in black armor. Long, flowing blonde hair cascaded down her back, but her face was a void, a swirling mass of darkness that sent a chill down Eliza¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Another failure,¡± Faker muttered with irritation, pacing behind the faceless woman. ¡°Why can¡¯t I ever get it right? Mordred deserves a proper body¡­ not this.¡± His voice dripped with impatience as he snapped his fingers again, as if the faceless warrior were merely a discarded thought. ¡°Come on, just one memory. Just one,¡± he growled, still cycling through the faces, seemingly unconcerned by the new danger he had created.


    Without warning, the faceless woman summoned a sword, forged from the same pitch-black substance as her body. In a fluid, deadly motion, she dashed toward Eliza, her blade gleaming ominously.


    Eliza barely had time to react. Her instincts kicked in, adrenaline surging as she threw herself to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike. The force of the faceless woman¡¯s sword crashing into the ground sent a shockwave through the floor, cracking the stone beneath her.


    ¡°She''s fast,¡± Eliza thought, gritting her teeth as she rolled to her feet. But she couldn¡¯t back down now. Not after everything.


    The faceless woman advanced again, faster this time. Her movements were eerily graceful, almost inhuman. Eliza ducked under the swing of the sword, feeling the air whistle above her head as she just barely escaped the lethal arc. She retaliated with a punch, aiming for the faceless woman¡¯s chest.


    Her fist connected, but it was like hitting a wall of shadows¡ªsolid yet intangible. The blow did little more than make the figure sway for a moment before she struck back with ruthless precision. The black blade lashed out, grazing Eliza¡¯s shoulder, and drawing blood. She winced but pressed forward, determined not to lose ground.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this!¡± Faker snapped from the sidelines, clearly growing more frustrated with each passing second. He waved his hand dismissively, as if the faceless woman was nothing more than an afterthought. ¡°Just kill her already!¡±


    As the next swing came down, Eliza didn¡¯t dodge. Instead, she caught the faceless woman¡¯s wrist, stopping the attack cold. The void-like figure struggled, her strength immense, but Eliza held firm. Her eyes locked on the darkness where the woman¡¯s face should¡¯ve been, and with a fierce battle cry, she drove her fist straight into it.


    The faceless woman shuddered violently as Eliza¡¯s punch connected. For a moment, the dark void of her face seemed to warp and contort, as if Eliza¡¯s strike had disrupted whatever dark energy held her together. The figure stumbled backward, her form flickering and distorting.


    ¡°Now!¡± Eliza thought, rushing in with everything she had. She slammed her knee into the faceless woman¡¯s midsection, and with a final, brutal punch to the head, the void-like figure shattered into a cloud of shadow and dissipated into the air.


    Eliza¡¯s knees buckled beneath her as she fought to stay upright, her chest heaving with labored breaths. Her vision blurred, the edges of the world closing in from sheer exhaustion. But even through the haze of pain and fatigue, she could hear Faker¡¯s mocking voice¡ªsharp, gleeful, as though he had finally uncovered some grand secret.


    ¡°Finally,¡± Faker purred, his voice dripping with sick satisfaction. ¡°I¡¯ve got it now¡­ How could I have forgotten this one? It was such a good memory.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s heart froze as she saw the puppet that had once been a grotesque amalgamation of figures slowly shifting. Its form contorted, skin stretching and bones cracking, until it settled into a shape that struck terror deep within her soul.


    It was her mother.


    The puppet now bore an uncanny resemblance to her¡ªdown to the last detail. The same long, hair, the same warm eyes, the gentle curve of her smile that had once brought Eliza so much comfort. But this wasn¡¯t her mother. The sight before her was twisted, wrong.


    The figure¡¯s expression twisted into something monstrous, its eyes gleaming with malice as Faker¡¯s voice oozed from the puppet¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°That annoying pain bumped into me while I was getting snacks at the store,¡± Faker drawled, his eyes glinting with wicked glee. ¡°So, I decided to have some fun and steal her body. Oh, the look on her husband¡¯s face¡ªyour father¡¯s face¡ªwhen I¡­ well, bit it off was priceless.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s vision narrowed into a tunnel, her mind reeling from the weight of his words. It felt like the ground was falling out from beneath her. The air left her lungs, cold dread settling in her gut as the puppet¡ªher mother¡ªsmiled that haunting smile. Faker had done more than just kill her parents¡ªhe had defiled their very existence.


    Faker grinned with twisted delight as the grotesque puppet show unfolded before Eliza''s eyes, his mocking voice narrating each cruel reenactment.


    ¡°And you know what¡¯s even better?¡± Faker''s voice dripped with sadistic glee. ¡°Let¡¯s recreate that moment, shall we?¡±


    His other hand transformed, twisting into another puppet¡ªthis one resembling Faker himself. The scene before Eliza began to play out like some sick, twisted theater.


    The puppet representing her mother moved in a clumsy, exaggerated motion, bumping into the Faker puppet. His bag of chips fell from his hand in slow motion, the chips scattering across the imaginary ground. Eliza¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, dread creeping up her spine as she watched the horrifying display.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Faker''s puppet voice chimed with mock innocence. ¡°Look what you¡¯ve done, bumping into me like that. How rude.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s breath caught in her throat as the macabre scene continued. The Faker puppet''s hand twisted grotesquely, morphing into a writhing maggot. It slithered toward the puppet of her mother, crawling inside its hollow body.


    For a moment, the mother puppet¡¯s form contorted, grotesquely morphing into Faker, before flickering back to her mother¡¯s image, as if mocking the stolen identity.


    ¡°That is act one,¡± Faker mused, his voice sickeningly jovial. ¡°Truly a fun story, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Eliza felt sick, her stomach churning as the realization washed over her like a tidal wave. The horror of what she was witnessing made her hands tremble, but it wasn¡¯t just disgust¡ªit was rage.


    ¡°That night¡­¡± her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with fury. ¡°It was you¡­ You¡¯re the reason that happened?¡±


    Faker¡¯s smile grew even wider, eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. ¡°Yes, it was,¡± he replied casually. ¡°But please, do sit still. We have an entire play to get through.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s mind snapped. The horror, the twisted mockery of her family, the nightmare she had lived through¡ªit all coalesced into a singular, burning need for vengeance.


    With a guttural roar, she charged at Faker, the broken remains of Excalibur clenched in her fist. The blade, though shattered, flared with light as she swung it at him, desperate to end this nightmare.


    But Faker was fast, too fast. He dodged each of her attacks with ease, slipping between the slashes with mocking agility, his twisted grin never fading.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Faker hummed thoughtfully, dodging another furious swing. ¡°Now, how did act two go again? Let¡¯s see, which characters do I need?¡±


    His voice was as casual as if he were recalling the lines to a children''s play, completely unbothered by Eliza¡¯s frenzied attempts to strike him down. Each time she swung, he danced out of the way, his voice humming in thought as if she were no threat at all.


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    Eliza¡¯s vision blurred with fury. Her mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest, but Faker was toying with her¡ªturning her suffering into some grotesque form of entertainment.


    Her breath ragged, Eliza swung again and again, her strikes becoming wilder and more desperate with every miss. Faker laughed, his voice ringing out, taunting her, pushing her further to the edge.


    ¡°Come on now, Slayer,¡± Faker sneered, his voice oozing with smug confidence. ¡°Surely, you¡¯re not going to tire out on me this soon? We¡¯ve barely begun! I still have so many memories to share. So many scenes to reenact!¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes burned with tears, but not of fear or sadness¡ªof pure, unadulterated rage. She wouldn¡¯t let this monster keep twisting her past, wouldn¡¯t allow him to keep desecrating the memory of her family. Her grip tightened around the hilt of Excalibur, the flickering light pulsing in response to her will.


    Faker¡¯s twisted puppetry continued, the grotesque theater unfolding before Eliza as if her worst nightmare was being performed live. The mother puppet, animated by Faker¡¯s cruel hand, walked around the room, its movements jerky and unnatural. Faker''s other hand morphed and twisted, creating grotesque imitations of random civilians¡ªpuppets representing innocent people who had crossed paths with her mother.


    The first puppet appeared¡ªa mother, standing protectively beside her child. Eliza¡¯s breath hitched in her throat as she saw the crude figures. Faker moved them closer to the puppet of her mother, and with a sickening smile, the mother puppet¡¯s hand morphed into a cartoonish monster¡¯s head. The mouth opened wide, jagged teeth gleaming as it lunged forward.


    Chomp.


    The puppet of the mother was beheaded, its head rolling to the ground. Eliza¡¯s heart raced, bile rising in her throat.


    ¡°No¡­ stop¡­ Stop it!¡± Eliza screamed, her voice shaking with fury and grief.


    But Faker didn¡¯t stop. He was grinning, his eyes gleaming with malice as he continued. Another bite. This time, it was the child puppet¡¯s head that rolled to the floor. Eliza¡¯s body trembled with rage, her knuckles white from how tightly she gripped the hilt of Excalibur. The light of the broken blade flickered, struggling to match the intensity of her emotions.


    Next came the policeman puppet, its head severed in an instant. Then a drunk man in a suit. Over and over, Faker puppeteered Eliza¡¯s mother, turning her into a grotesque executioner, reenacting the murders she was never responsible for. Each bite, each cruel motion, sent another wave of fury crashing through Eliza¡¯s veins.


    ¡°You bastard!¡± Eliza roared, her voice breaking with the weight of her anger. ¡°Stop it! Stop it!¡±


    In a flash, she unleashed a burst of fire breath, the flames shooting out from her mouth with deadly intensity. The inferno surged toward Faker, threatening to consume him, but he dodged with a laugh, sidestepping the flames as they licked the air where he once stood.


    ¡°Oh, Slayer,¡± Faker mocked, viciously smiling through it all. ¡°The fun has only just begun.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s chest heaved, her vision blurred with tears, but she wasn¡¯t done. She charged at Faker again, slashing wildly with the broken Excalibur, the blade¡¯s light flickering with her relentless fury. Her strikes were fierce but unfocused, driven by emotion rather than strategy, but she didn¡¯t care. She just wanted to end this¡ªend him.


    But Faker was too fast, slipping through the chaos with ease, dodging her every move as if it were nothing more than a game.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s see¡­¡± Faker mused, tapping his chin in mock thought as he sidestepped another furious slash. ¡°That¡¯s act two. Now, how did act three go¡­?¡±


    He paused for a moment, his twisted smile widening, as if he¡¯d just remembered something deliciously vile. ¡°Ah yes, I loved this part.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, her rage boiling over. She couldn¡¯t take it anymore. She couldn¡¯t watch this monster desecrate her mother¡¯s memory any longer. She slashed again, the blade glowing brighter, pulsing with her fury.


    But Faker just laughed. He dodged effortlessly, his puppet show continuing as if her attacks were nothing more than an amusing distraction. ¡°If I had the time, I¡¯d love to collect your tears into my cup, what a shame.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s vision went red. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, but she wouldn¡¯t give up. She couldn¡¯t. With each step she took, she felt the weight of Arthur¡¯s power just beyond her reach. The moment was coming. She could feel it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you handle the next act, shall we?¡±


    Faker¡¯s cruel laughter echoed through the air as his puppet theater of horrors continued. Eliza watched in stunned silence as the next act unfolded¡ªa mockery of her father¡¯s final moments.


    Faker¡¯s other hand twisted, transforming into a crude puppet version of her father. The two puppets, representing her parents, kissed for a brief moment, a sick parody of love, before the father puppet seemed to notice the blood dripping from the mother¡¯s hands. His puppet form jerked back, eyes wide with fear as the realization set in.


    Eliza¡¯s stomach churned. Her fingers clenched around Excalibur, her breath ragged with fury and disgust.


    ¡°Stop it¡­¡± she whispered, barely audible over Faker¡¯s twisted performance. But he didn¡¯t stop. He was far too caught up in his own cruel spectacle.


    A cartoonish tendril suddenly sprouted from the mother puppet¡¯s back, lashing out with impossible speed. It wrapped around the father puppet¡¯s arm, and with one quick motion, it sliced through it. The father puppet¡¯s arm fell to the ground, a ridiculous geyser of bright red, cartoonish blood spurting from the stump in exaggerated arcs, as if this was all some kind of sick joke.


    Eliza¡¯s heart raced. Her knuckles went white around Excalibur''s hilt.


    Faker continued, gleefully narrating his twisted recreation. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you just love this part?¡± he grinned, watching as the father puppet staggered back, cartoonish blood still spurting from his severed limb. ¡°It¡¯s just so¡­ poetic.¡±


    The mother puppet¡¯s face suddenly split open, vertically down the middle, jagged teeth emerging in a grotesque grin. Eliza¡¯s stomach turned. That wasn¡¯t her mother¡ªthat wasn¡¯t her at all. It was a sick, twisted thing that Faker had created. A mockery of the woman she loved.


    The father puppet tried to run, its tiny legs scrambling in place, but the mother puppet¡¯s tendril lashed out again, wrapping around his neck. With one swift yank, it dragged him back.


    ¡°No!¡± Eliza shouted, her voice cracking with the sheer force of her emotion, but she couldn¡¯t stop what was happening. Not yet.


    The mother puppet leaned in, its grotesque mouth opening wider. In one swift motion, it bit down, ripping off the father puppet¡¯s head. The body crumpled to the ground as more exaggerated, cartoonish blood sprayed from the severed neck.


    Eliza¡¯s entire body shook with rage, her vision blurred with tears of anger and pain.


    Faker glanced at her, his grin widening. ¡°Hmm, I could¡¯ve done that better, don¡¯t you think? Next time I¡¯ll really stretch it out. Make him beg, make him cry like he did that night.¡±


    His words cut deeper than any wound. Eliza¡¯s breath hitched, her hands trembling. The room seemed to close in on her, the weight of her memories and Faker¡¯s twisted performance crashing down all at once.


    But then, amid the storm of emotions, something shifted inside her. The heat of her rage coalesced into something sharp¡ªsomething focused. She could feel Arthur¡¯s power stirring beneath her skin, waiting, ready. Her time was coming. She could feel it in her bones.


    ¡°Keep laughing,¡± she thought to herself, her gaze locked on Faker¡¯s smug face. ¡°I¡¯ll end this play at the height of your amusement.¡±


    Her grip on Excalibur tightened, the flickering light from the blade growing stronger as her resolve solidified. She wasn¡¯t just going to destroy Faker¡ªshe was going to obliterate him. And when she did, there would be no curtain call. No encore. Just silence.


    Eliza¡¯s breath caught in her throat as the grotesque puppet turned into her mother¡¯s likeness once more. Its distorted, twisted version of her parent slowly walked toward the small puppet that resembled her younger self¡ªa crude, heartless mockery of the innocence she¡¯d lost that night.


    Faker¡¯s voice dripped with malicious delight, mimicking a mother¡¯s voice. ¡°Mom, I had a nightmare. What was that noise?¡± The child puppet asked, its voice a caricature of Eliza¡¯s childhood, one filled with innocence and fear.


    Eliza¡¯s stomach churned with rage and helplessness. The memory, the nightmare she had buried so deeply, was now playing out right before her eyes. Her fists clenched until her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. She didn¡¯t care. The sight before her was worse than any pain she could feel.


    Faker¡¯s smug voice broke through her thoughts, taunting her. ¡°Do you remember what happens next, hmm, Eliza?¡± he sneered, his face twisted in delight as he watched her struggle.


    The ¡°mom¡± puppet¡¯s face split vertically once more, revealing rows of jagged teeth that tore through what was once a familiar, comforting visage. The puppet began to grow, warping and distorting further as Faker¡¯s body dissolved into it, merging with the monstrosity.


    It transformed into a figure of pure nightmare¡ªa grotesque parody of the monster from that night. Its body was unnaturally tall and lanky, its rotting, gray skin hanging loosely over long, thin limbs that ended in jagged, claw-like fingers. A tendril-like tongue slithered from its gaping mouth, dripping with something vile. Its eyes were nothing but dark, empty voids, yet they bore into her with the intensity of a predator savoring its prey.


    Faker¡¯s mocking voice rang out again, filled with cruel glee. ¡°Do you remember this scene? Can you cry for me like you did that night?¡±


    The grotesque puppet lumbered forward, its long claws scraping the ground as it moved, an embodiment of every nightmare Eliza had ever had. It was too close, too real. Her heart raced, her pulse thundering in her ears, as the memories of that night crashed through her mind like an unstoppable wave.


    Her hands trembled, but not from fear. The emotions coursing through her now were something more potent¡ªsomething sharper. She could feel the rage bubbling up, fighting to take control. She couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t think¡ªonly feel. The pain, the loss, the horror¡ªit all came flooding back with such force that it nearly paralyzed her.


    But she wasn¡¯t a helpless child anymore.


    ¡°No,¡± she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. The twisted creature moved closer, its foul breath filling the air, but she stood her ground. ¡°No more.¡±


    Faker stumbled toward her, mimicking the monster that had haunted her dreams for years, feeding on her terror. But this time, Eliza¡¯s fear was giving way to something far more dangerous, rage. She could feel Arthur¡¯s power pulsing through her veins, begging to be unleashed.


    ¡°Do you feel it, Eliza?¡± Faker taunted, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. ¡°That helplessness, that fear? It¡¯s just like that night, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes narrowed, her vision sharpening with fury. Her muscles tensed as she raised the broken Excalibur, its faint light flickering in response to her mounting resolve. The tendrils of darkness from Faker¡¯s monstrous form reached for her, trying to drag her into despair, but she wouldn¡¯t allow it. Not again.


    ¡°That night¡­¡± Eliza¡¯s voice was a low growl, trembling with barely contained rage. ¡°That night doesn¡¯t define me.¡±


    She gripped Excalibur tighter, feeling the warmth of Arthur¡¯s power ready to ignite. Her eyes locked onto the twisted puppet that once wore her mother¡¯s face. ¡°You don¡¯t define me!¡±


    Eliza''s scream echoed through the shattered remnants of the battlefield, her voice filled with a fury that shook the very air around her. ¡°There¡¯s a scene you forgot, Faker! Come on, show me the ending of that play! Show me how that damn night ended!¡±


    Her voice cracked, not from weakness, but from the raw, unfiltered power of her emotion. Every muscle in her body tensed, her knuckles white around the hilt of Excalibur, as the weight of her memories poured into her words.


    She wasn¡¯t finished. "I remember it clearly," Eliza continued, her voice rising like a storm about to break. "Clearer than any nightmare you¡¯ve tried to create. I watched it in awe¡ªwatched as you were obliterated. That small, pitiful portion of your filth wiped off the face of the earth.¡±


    Her eyes locked onto his. "So play it out, right now, you bastard!" she roared, her words a command that reverberated through the very core of the room.


    Excalibur, broken and battered moments before, began to glow in her hand. Eliza raised it high above her head, the blade regenerating in a brilliant flash of light. It was as if the very essence of the sword had returned, stronger and purer than ever before. The light filled the room, illuminating every dark corner that Faker had tried to shroud in his grotesque illusions. The brilliance was almost too much to bear, a beauty so radiant that it outshone any darkness.


    Faker¡¯s smirk faltered. His ear fell off, transforming midair into a puppet¡ªa grotesque representation of Alexander Jones, the leader of A.E.G.I.S. The small, legless puppet squirmed and crawled with its tiny, useless arms, trying desperately to escape the blinding light.


    Eliza¡¯s lips curled into a grim smile. ¡°Here¡¯s the finale,¡± she said, her voice filled with the confidence of someone who had already won. "Here¡¯s what happened that night, Faker. I even have the same weapon.¡±


    The brilliance of Excalibur intensified, its light now blinding. She brought the sword down with a calm, steady motion. There was no need for rage anymore, no need for fury. The blade itself carried the weight of her justice, and as it descended, an immense light engulfed the room.


    Everything was obliterated. Faker¡¯s twisted form, his mockery of her family, the darkness he had conjured¡ªall of it was swallowed by the light. When the brilliance finally faded, all that remained was half of the pathetic Alexander puppet, still feebly trying to crawl away.


    Eliza walked over to it, her steps deliberate, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She stared down at the broken puppet with cold, hard eyes. Without a word, she lifted her foot and, with one final stomp, crushed it beneath her boot.


    Silence settled over the room, and the oppressive darkness finally lifted.


    But somewhere far away, under the warm Hawaiian sun, a man lounged lazily on the beach, sipping from a coconut. His face twisted into an amused grin, eyes hidden behind sunglasses as he watched the waves lazily lap at the shore.


    ¡°What a pain¡­ I lost,¡± Faker chuckled, taking another sip. "Oh well, there¡¯s always next time." He laughed, the sound carried away by the breeze, carefree and unbothered by the destruction of his twisted puppets.


    As Faker lounged in his chair, basking in the sunlight, his hands began to shift. Slowly, the fingers warped and twisted, transforming into small, grotesque puppets¡ªone a mocking caricature of himself, the other a representation of Alexander Jones.


    With a smirk on his lips, Faker orchestrated the scene. The Alexander Jones puppet raised a tiny version of Excalibur high into the air, and in a swift motion, it brought the blade down upon the Faker puppet. The fake Faker crumbled into pieces, a mockery of the battle that had just unfolded.


    Faker chuckled darkly, amused at his own twisted game. "Oh, the irony," he muttered to himself, letting the puppets fall lifeless in his hands. He settled back into his beach chair, sipping from his coconut. The nightmare was far from over¡ªit was just delayed.


    Meanwhile, back on the battlefield, Eliza could feel the last remnants of her strength slipping away. She fell to her knees, her chest heaving as the adrenaline that had fueled her began to fade. Excalibur, the mighty sword that had been reborn in her hands, shimmered briefly before returning to its broken, shattered state. Its light faded, leaving her in silence.


    But despite her exhaustion, a small smile crept onto her lips. She had done it. She had faced her past, faced the twisted embodiment of her nightmares, and emerged victorious. Even if she couldn¡¯t yet destroy Faker entirely, she had won this battle. And for the first time in a long time, she felt joy¡ªpure, unfiltered joy.


    Her vision blurred as the weight of fatigue finally overwhelmed her. She swayed, her body giving in to the exhaustion that had been threatening to pull her under. And then, with a final exhale, she collapsed, her consciousness fading into the void.


    When she woke up, her surroundings had completely changed. No longer was she on the battlefield, nor in the nightmarish remnants of her memories. Instead, she found herself in a grand, expansive library. Rows upon rows of towering shelves filled with ancient, weathered books surrounded her, their spines coated in dust and mystery.


    ¡°Good morning, you did quite well, Eliza,¡± The Bookkeeper''s calm voice echoed through the vast library.

 Chapter 40-Monsters

    As chaos engulfed the facility, Octavian sat at his desk, seemingly unfazed by the storm outside. Smoke curled lazily from his cigarette as he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the cluttered surface, flipping through the pages of a manga. It was one of those long-titled, mediocre series where the protagonist gets hit by a truck and is reincarnated into a fantasy world, becoming absurdly overpowered. His expression was one of mild amusement mixed with disdain, not for the surrounding chaos, but for the world itself.


    ¡°Sure, we¡¯ll experience plenty of deaths,¡± Octavian muttered to himself, exhaling a plume of smoke, ¡°but if I¡¯m lucky, Frank will die. And then I¡¯ll finally be in charge of this facility, like I should¡¯ve been all along.¡±


    His voice dripped with venom, the bitterness of years of being sidelined bubbling to the surface. He let out a dry chuckle, barely acknowledging the gravity of the situation.


    A voice interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Oh, poor you. What a shame that a horrid monster like you never got what you deserved.¡±


    Octavian glanced up without moving an inch, his eyes narrowing as a figure emerged from the shadows. The man standing before him had a menacing aura, his body a tapestry of red-inked tattoos that wrapped around his muscular limbs and torso like thorned vines. His left arm gleamed¡ªa sophisticated prosthetic seamlessly integrated with his flesh, giving him the appearance of both man and machine. His face, or what could be considered a face, was that of a black crow¡ªa mask, or perhaps something far worse. Beady, dark eyes peered through the dim light, locking onto Octavian.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ your codename is Crow,¡± Octavian drawled, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. His voice was laced with disinterest as he finally lowered the manga. ¡°One of the many deserters who chose to side with Nikolai, isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    Crow¡¯s voice carried a low growl, filled with restrained fury. ¡°I¡¯m so glad the man who helped turn me into a monster remembers me.¡±


    Octavian smirked, flicking ash from his cigarette without even looking at his former subordinate. ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself. I just happened to glance at your file yesterday while I was sorting through my records. You¡¯re not exactly memorable.¡±


    Crow clenched his fists, the mechanical joints of his prosthetic arm tightening audibly. ¡°Still as much of a prick as ever, huh?¡±


    ¡°Some things never change,¡± Octavian replied, his tone as disinterested as ever. His eyes finally met Crow¡¯s, cold and unyielding, as if the man before him was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He flicked the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor without a care. ¡°Now, what do you want? I¡¯m busy.¡±


    Crow¡¯s eyes narrowed, his voice laced with restrained fury. ¡°Looking for you was quite a pain. What are you doing in here, lounging around, while my forces have invaded your facility? Shouldn''t you be out there, fighting?¡±


    Octavian let out a low, lazy chuckle. ¡°I have no particular interest in the bore of battle. Ivan can handle all of you if he really puts his mind to it. Now, tell me, what exactly have you come looking for in my office?¡±


    As if in answer, the tattoos on Crow¡¯s body began to glow with a bloody red light. They moved, twisting and writhing like living thorns, detaching from his skin as if they had a mind of their own. The blood-red vines surged towards Octavian, intending to skewer him where he sat. But just as they made contact, they found nothing but empty space¡ªhis manga fluttering down to the floor in his place.


    Crow''s eyes darted around in confusion, only to feel a light pressure on his shoulder. Turning his head, he was greeted by a sight that sent a shiver down his spine: Octavian, casually perched on his left shoulder, his expression as calm and mocking as ever.


    ¡°Tattoo manipulation, hmm?¡± Octavian mused, as though he were observing a mildly interesting insect. His voice was calm, almost bored, as if Crow¡¯s powers were little more than a parlor trick. ¡°It¡¯s a fascinating ability, though it takes far too much preparation. Useful for assassination, I suppose. Maybe I should drug you and drag you to my lab¡ªplay with you for a bit.¡±


    Crow¡¯s body tensed, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He swung his hand toward his shoulder, trying to grab him, but in the blink of an eye, Octavian was gone. In a blur of motion, he reappeared¡ªnow lounging on his desk once again, as if the entire encounter had been a minor detour from his cigarette break.


    ¡°That speed¡­¡± Crow muttered, barely able to keep his voice steady.


    Octavian smirked, lighting another cigarette, his eyes half-lidded with boredom. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so shocked. Did you really think your little party trick would work on someone like me?¡±


    Crow clenched his fists, his anger boiling over. He had come here expecting to confront the man who had ruined his life, but Octavian treated him like a mere amusement. An afterthought.


    ¡°And here I thought you''d be more of a challenge,¡± Octavian said with a soft sigh, taking a long drag from his cigarette. ¡°But I suppose even monsters like you can be disappointing.¡±


    Octavian chuckled softly, his cigarette dangling lazily between his lips as Crow¡¯s tattoos began to shift again. ¡°I¡¯m sure you knew this beforehand, but my ability is super speed. Sure, I¡¯m no Flash-level hero from the comics, but it¡¯s more than enough to toy with a brute like you.¡± His voice oozed with smug confidence, and he flicked a bit of ash off the edge of his desk, as though Crow¡¯s attack was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.


    Crow snarled and sent his crimson tattoos hurtling toward Octavian once again. This time, Octavian moved with precision, his right arm transforming into a mass of writhing tentacles. They shot forward, meeting Crow¡¯s tattoos head-on and stopping the attack cold. The ink twisted and reformed in midair, condensing into a floating crimson orb, swirling ominously.


    Octavian stared at the orb with a blank expression, barely registering its threat. Suddenly, the orb exploded outward, spreading into dozens of ink bullets that shot toward him like a deadly rain. But as the bullets closed in, blue scales manifested across Octavian¡¯s body, covering him from head to toe. Each projectile struck the scales, ricocheting off harmlessly with a metallic ping.


    ¡°Come on, Crow,¡± Octavian said, his voice laced with disappointment. ¡°Is this really the best you can do? I was expecting at least some level of creativity.¡±


    Crow¡¯s eyes burned with fury as he charged forward, all of his tattoos retreating back to his body before flowing into his right arm. In an instant, they solidified into a large, wickedly sharp scythe made entirely of blood-red ink. With a primal roar, he swung the weapon at Octavian with all his strength. The blade slashed through the air, carving a path straight through Octavian¡¯s right arm, severing it cleanly at the elbow.


    But there was no blood.


    Crow¡¯s expression flickered with confusion as he saw the stump where Octavian¡¯s arm had once been. No blood spilled from the wound, and no cry of pain escaped Octavian¡¯s lips. Instead, he simply dodged the follow-up strike aimed at his head, moving with an unnatural grace as he crouched low, hovering near the discarded arm.


    Before Crow could even blink, something horrifying happened. From the stump of Octavian¡¯s arm, black tentacles sprouted like living vines, writhing and coiling around one another. They twisted and knotted together until they formed a new arm¡ªa replica of the one that had been severed, as if nothing had happened.


    Octavian straightened, flexing the new limb casually. The severed arm on the ground disintegrated into dust, leaving no trace behind.


    Octavian''s grin widened as he rolled his newly regenerated arm, the blue scales shimmering ominously in the dim light of the office. ¡°Nice try,¡± he remarked, testing the flexibility of his arm before cracking his knuckles. ¡°But you¡¯ll need a lot more than a fancy scythe to bring me down. Now, let¡¯s stop with these little games, shall we?¡±


    Crow, his hands trembling with barely contained fury, tightened his grip on the scythe. His body tensed, every muscle coiled and ready to strike, but there was something different in his posture now¡ªuncertainty. He glared at Octavian, sweat dripping from his brow. ¡°What the hell are you? How many innate abilities do you possess?¡± he snarled, his voice faltering with frustration.


    Octavian¡¯s lips curled into a smug smile, the blue scales gleaming brighter as they caught the faint light. His body emanated a cold, predatory aura. ¡°Me? I¡¯m someone far beyond your comprehension, Crow. But don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re about to find out just how terrifying I can really be.¡± His words were casual, but there was a darkness behind them¡ªa promise of something dreadful.


    Crow¡¯s eyes widened, a flash of fear crossing his face before he quickly masked it with bravado. ¡°You¡¯re a freak. A monster,¡± he spat, raising his scythe as though it could ward off the horror in front of him.


    Octavian laughed softly, a low, mocking sound that echoed through the room. ¡°Monster? No, I¡¯m just a scientist¡ªa curious one at that.¡± His crimson tentacle hair twirled around his fingers as he spoke, the movements strangely hypnotic. ¡°You see, after my little¡­ encounter with the Boogeyman, I decided I couldn¡¯t allow myself to be humiliated like that again. So I pushed the boundaries of what our bodies can handle. Fused myself with a few more creatures than the standard limit of three.¡±


    Crow¡¯s face twisted in disbelief. ¡°You¡­ broke the limit?¡±


    Octavian gave a mock bow, his voice dripping with arrogance. ¡°Indeed. You¡¯ve already met my octopus DNA, and it seems you¡¯ve gotten quite familiar with it. But let me introduce you to something far more elegant.¡±


    As he spoke, sea dragon horns sprouted from his head, curling wickedly as they gleamed under the fluorescent light. The blue scales that adorned his body crept up his neck and down his arms, forming a deadly, armored sheen. His tentacle hair slicked back as he adjusted his posture, standing taller and more menacing than before. ¡°Meet the sea dragon,¡± he said with a wicked grin, his voice as smooth as silk.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Is there nothing you won¡¯t do for power?¡± Crow muttered, his voice shaking with anger.


    Octavian chuckled. ¡°If anyone here is a monster, Crow, it¡¯s you. I know exactly what you are beneath that mask. You can¡¯t hide your true nature from me.¡±


    Crow¡¯s grip on the scythe tightened, his breathing heavy as anger and panic warred within him. ¡°Shut up! SHUT UP!¡± he roared, charging at Octavian with the scythe held high.


    But Octavian was faster. With a calm, almost bored expression, he inhaled deeply before unleashing a dragon¡¯s roar, a powerful blast of water erupting from his mouth. The torrent hit Crow like a freight train, hurling him backward and slamming him into the far wall. His body skidded across the floor.


    Octavian didn¡¯t let up. His right arm morphed into a mass of tentacles, now covered in those same glistening blue scales. They shot out toward Crow, each tendril writhing and lashing with deadly precision.


    Crow, barely able to stand, reformed his scythe into a large, blood-red shield just in time to block the incoming attack. The tentacles slammed into the shield with a thunderous crack, sending vibrations through Crow¡¯s body, but he managed to hold his ground.


    ¡°Still standing, are we?¡± Octavian mused, his tone laced with mock admiration. In a blur of motion, he used his super speed to appear right in front of Crow, his hand darting forward with blinding speed. Before Crow could react, Octavian grabbed his mask.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s really underneath, shall we?¡± Octavian hissed, ripping the mask away with a single tug.


    Crow stumbled back, his breath ragged and frantic. Where his face should have been, there was a grotesque, writhing mass. A massive centipede, its many legs wriggling and shifting, stretched across where his human features should have been. The creature¡¯s many legs twitched, and its segmented body pulsated with a sickening rhythm, as if it were still trying to hide itself behind the now-absent mask.


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± Octavian said, his voice filled with cruel amusement. ¡°Who was the monster here again?¡± He grinned, the sight of Crow¡¯s true form only fueling his twisted satisfaction.


    Crow let out a distorted, inhuman screech, his centipede face thrashing violently as he swung the scythe in desperation. But Octavian was already moving, dodging effortlessly out of the way with his super speed, leaving Crow to flail uselessly.


    The grotesque centipede head, shot forward with alarming speed, its mandibles wide and snapping toward Octavian¡¯s throat. Simultaneously, Crow¡¯s tattoos surged from his body, firing like bullets, each thorn aimed with deadly precision. But Octavian¡¯s smirk never wavered. His form blurred, slipping through the onslaught with effortless grace, his super-speed making the attacks seem almost laughable.


    ¡°Honestly, maybe you should have kept that mask on. You¡¯re hideous, what a sickening sight,¡± Octavian chuckled, the taunt rolling off his tongue with malicious glee as he sidestepped another of Crow¡¯s frenzied attacks.


    Crow snarled in frustration, his inhuman form quivering with rage. Without warning, his prosthetic arm extended, and a wickedly sharp needle shot out, slicing cleanly through Octavian¡¯s arm in one swift motion.


    Octavian barely blinked, watching his severed arm fall to the ground. ¡°Again with the arm,¡± he muttered nonchalantly. Even as the ink from Crow¡¯s needle began to seep into the wound, Octavian¡¯s flesh writhed and shifted, tentacles sprouting from the stump and reforming into a fully functioning arm within moments.


    Crow¡¯s eyes, though masked by the writhing centipede on his face, gleamed with vicious intent. The ink from his needle slithered around Octavian like living chains, twisting into jagged thorns that sought to crush and bind him. But Octavian¡¯s blue scales glimmered, the hard armor protecting him from the worst of the constricting force.


    Still, the binding held him in place for a moment longer than Crow needed. More ink poured from the prosthetic, forming a massive hammer in Crow¡¯s hands. With a roar, Crow swung the hammer down toward Octavian¡¯s head.


    The impact landed with a sickening crack, the scales protecting Octavian¡¯s skull but still leaving a dent in his defenses. Octavian gritted his teeth, feeling the force of the blow reverberate through his body. It had been a while since someone actually managed to hurt him, however slightly.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Octavian admitted, his eyes gleaming with a spark of amusement. ¡°But still not enough.¡±


    With a sharp inhale, he summoned the power of his sea dragon DNA. Water swirled around him, creating a churning vortex that tore through the ink bindings with ease. The vortex expanded outward, crashing into Crow with the force of a tidal wave, sending him hurtling backward across the room.


    Crow slammed into the far wall, his ink hammer disintegrating as he struggled to regain his footing. Octavian stood at the center of the vortex, his blue-scaled form surrounded by swirling water, tentacle hair whipping in the storm he had created.


    ¡°Let¡¯s be honest,¡± Octavian said, his tone light, almost playful. ¡°You were never really going to win, were you?¡±


    Crow growled, his centipede head twitching erratically, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his movements now. He was starting to understand just how outmatched he was.


    ¡°Still, I have to admit,¡± Octavian continued, cracking his neck as the vortex of water receded. ¡°You¡¯re a persistent little pest. But I¡¯ve dealt with worse.¡± His gaze narrowed, the playful gleam in his eyes replaced with a dangerous intensity. ¡°Now, it¡¯s time to put you out of your misery.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s smirk twisted into a snarl as his patience wore thin. With a flick of his wrists, multiple sickles of water shot from his hands, their edges gleaming with lethal intent. They sliced through the air with frightening speed, crashing against Crow¡¯s body like the relentless assault of a storm. Crow¡¯s tattoos surged to the surface, wrapping around his form like a defensive barrier, deflecting some attacks but not all.


    ¡°Just die already, you trash,¡± Octavian hissed, his voice laced with frustration as he delivered a powerful kick to Crow''s side, sending him sprawling further across the floor.


    The water sickles multiplied, striking Crow again and again. Blood spattered across the room as his tattoos struggled to keep up with the unyielding onslaught. Each impact left jagged cuts along Crow''s body, and yet he refused to fall. Octavian¡¯s annoyance grew with each passing second, his expression darkening as his attacks became more vicious.


    ¡°Die already!¡± Octavian growled, kneeling down next to Crow, his fists slamming into Crow¡¯s body with bone-crushing force. Each punch was accompanied by the sickening crack of breaking bones, the blue scales on his knuckles dripping with blood.


    Crow¡¯s body twitched beneath him, his defenses faltering but not breaking. Octavian¡¯s eyes flared with cold fury, his words dripping with venom. ¡°You worthless trash. Die.¡± His fists came down again, over and over, each blow more brutal than the last, until Crow¡¯s body seemed on the verge of collapse.


    But in an instant, Crow¡¯s body shifted, and a dozen black spikes erupted from his skin. Octavian¡¯s reflexes kicked in as he leaped backward, narrowly avoiding being impaled, though several of the spikes still tore through his side, puncturing his blue-scaled armor and drawing blood.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Octavian spat, clutching his bleeding side. His eyes flickered with a dangerous glint as he realized his mistake. ¡°I forgot about your other ability. That was sloppy of me.¡±


    Crow¡¯s tattoos reformed, the thorns still embedded in his skin, dripping with red ink. He staggered to his feet, his breath labored, but a twisted grin spread across his face. ¡°You¡¯re not invincible after all,¡± he rasped, blood trickling from his mouth.


    Octavian stood tall, wiping the blood from his lips. ¡°No¡­ I''m not invincible,¡± he admitted, his voice cold and measured. ¡°But I''m far from done. And I think it''s time I stop playing with my food.¡±


    With a wave of his hand, the sickles of water reformed, swirling around him like serpents, sharper and deadlier than before. His eyes narrowed, locked onto Crow with a predator¡¯s focus.


    As the serpents of water launched from Octavian¡¯s hands, they slammed into Crow, propelling him through the wall with a violent crash. Dust and debris filled the air as Crow¡¯s body disappeared into the wreckage, the serpents coiling back around Octavian¡¯s arm, ready to finish the job.


    Just as Octavian prepared to summon a powerful vortex, a sudden impact knocked the wind out of him. A large crystal, gleaming with an unnatural light, had embedded itself in his torso, sending him careening backward, crashing into the wall opposite the one Crow had been thrown through. Octavian winced, his body straining as he tried to pull the shard from his side.


    Out of the shadows stepped a figure. A woman with long, unkempt black hair and gray eyes, their lifeless gaze emphasized by the heavy bags under them. Freckles dotted her pale skin, and she wore a flowing white robe over gray clothing that gave her an almost spectral appearance. Despite the surrounding chaos, she looked weary, as if she¡¯d rather be anywhere else.


    ¡°What a mess you''ve gotten yourself into, my dear friend,¡± she sighed, almost disappointed. ¡°Honestly, this is why I told you to bring an artifact.¡±


    ¡°Diamond?¡± Crow''s voice crackled through the rubble, his body battered but still moving. He staggered to his feet, tattoos flickering back to life across his skin. ¡°What are you doing here? You¡¯re supposed to be following Nihil.¡±


    Diamond, barely acknowledging Crow¡¯s words, brushed some dirt off her robe. ¡°That bastard¡¯s here,¡± she replied, her voice devoid of emotion. ¡°I followed him. He arrived shortly after the invasion started. Though I don¡¯t know where he¡¯s gone now.¡± She glanced at the wreckage where Crow stood, then back to Octavian, who was still struggling to remove the crystal.


    ¡°Thank you for rescuing me,¡± Crow muttered, pulling himself free of the rubble.


    Suddenly, a chilling voice broke through the silence. ¡°Excuse me,¡± came the cold, calculated tone from behind Octavian, startling him. ¡°Would you like some assistance with these two?¡±


    Octavian whirled around to find another figure standing directly behind him. He hadn¡¯t even sensed his approach. The man wore a white mask, emotionless and blank, with no indication of who¡ªor what¡ªlay beneath it. His black cloak flowed eerily, adorned with twisting vines and pale white roses. A crown of the same roses rested atop his head. The long white hair that cascaded down his back was stark against his pitch-black clothing, a contrast that made him seem almost otherworldly.


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate the help, but who exactly are you?¡± Octavian asked, yanking the crystal from his side and tossing it aside.


    ¡°You may call me Nihil,¡± the man answered, his voice calm, controlled, and devoid of any warmth. He regarded Octavian with a chilling gaze from behind his mask, not a single emotion betraying his intent.


    Diamond sighed again, glancing from Nihil to Crow. ¡°This man has been such a pain to deal with,¡± she muttered, her gray eyes flicking between the two opposing forces. ¡°Crow, get ready. We¡¯re far from done here.¡±


    As Nihil stepped forward, a sense of cold emptiness filled the room, a void that seemed to swallow sound and light itself. ¡°Shall we?¡± he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the oppressive stillness he created.


    Octavian, feeling the weight of Nihil¡¯s presence, smirked despite himself. ¡°Well, this just got interesting.¡±


    Nihil extended his hand, and in an instant, a spear materialized¡ªan elegant yet ominous weapon. The spear gleamed a pristine white, its shaft wrapped in intertwining white roses, the thorns sharp and cruel. The roses seemed to pulse with life, their petals shimmering faintly in the dim light. It was as if the spear itself was not a weapon, but an extension of Nihil''s essence, something far more dangerous than it appeared. Its presence carried an unsettling weight, like the calm before a violent storm.


    ¡°En garde,¡± Nihil said, his voice chillingly calm, as if the ensuing battle was nothing more than a formal dance. His eyes, hidden behind the blank mask, radiated a terrifying certainty, as though he already knew the outcome.

 Chapter 41-Survivor

    The air crackled with tension as the three stood in the hallway, their breaths shallow, eyes locked on their enigmatic enemy, Nihil. A dark, oppressive energy hung in the air, thick, and suffocating. Without hesitation, Diamond acted first, her hands glowing with aura as countless razor-sharp pink crystals erupted from the ground, streaking toward Nihil like guided missiles. They embedded deep into his flesh, shimmering with lethal intensity.


    In the same heartbeat, Crow lunged forward. His arm morphed, jagged spikes twisting into form as if birthed from his very bones. With one fluid motion, he swung with monstrous force, his bladed arm cleaving cleanly through Nihil¡¯s neck. The head toppled from his shoulders, thudding against the ground in a spray of dark, viscous blood.


    For a split second, silence reigned. Diamond and Crow exchanged bewildered glances, the weight of their disbelief heavy. It had been too easy. This mysterious being, whose presence exuded untold power, had been felled like nothing more than a common adversary.


    The severed body crumpled to the ground with a dull thud, motionless.


    But then, an eerie, chilling whisper echoed behind them, sending a jolt of icy fear through their spines.


    ¡°I survived,¡± came the rasping voice.


    They whirled around, hearts pounding, to see Nihil standing mere paces away¡ªwhole, unscathed. His expression was one of serene detachment, as if his own decapitation had been nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience. His cold eyes glinted with an unnatural calm as the corpse at their feet remained still.


    Crow¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Impossible,¡± he muttered, eyes wide as the unsettling reality of Nihil¡¯s survival sank in.


    Nihil¡¯s lips twisted into a smile beneath his mask, his corpse on the ground already beginning to rot and decay. With a casual sigh, as though slightly inconvenienced, he shook his head. ¡°Once again, I¡¯m still alive. What a shame.¡± His voice was smooth, almost mocking, as though death itself had grown tired of chasing him.


    Octavian let out a deep, almost disbelieving laugh. ¡°What an insane ally I¡¯ve gained,¡± he said, a manic gleam in his eyes. The prospect of wielding such a being on his side filled him with twisted glee.


    Crow clenched his fists, trembling with anger. ¡°What the hell is he?¡± he spat, frustration boiling over.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been tracking him for days,¡± Diamond interjected, her voice low and filled with doubt. ¡°But I¡¯ve never seen him die fully¡ªat least not for long.¡± She frowned, her pink crystals pulsing with a faint glow as she prepared herself for another attempt.


    Nihil turned his head toward her, eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Your tracking abilities were rather¡­ lacking,¡± he said, almost playfully. ¡°It was painfully easy to notice you trailing me. I actually felt sorry for such a novice. So, I pretended not to notice.¡± His tone was calm, but the insult struck deep.


    Diamond¡¯s eyes flared with indignation, but before she could respond, Crow acted.


    With a sharp hiss, Crow activated his prosthetic arm. A long needle shot from its core, piercing straight into Nihil¡¯s chest with surgical precision. He heaved, using his immense strength to lift Nihil effortlessly into the air, the darkened figure writhing in his grip.


    With a guttural roar, Crow threw Nihil high into the sky, his mechanical arm gleaming under the darkened sky. His centipede head unfurled grotesquely, its massive mandibles snapping open with a sickening crunch as it clamped down on Nihil¡¯s head, crushing it completely. Nihil¡¯s body plummeted to the ground, limp, shattered, and motionless.


    For a brief moment, it seemed as though they had finally won. The ground trembled as Nihil¡¯s body hit the earth with a lifeless thud. Crow¡¯s breath was ragged, but his expression held a fleeting hope.


    But then, like clockwork, the decaying corpse on the ground dissolved into dust. And from the shadows, Nihil emerged once again. He stood, whole and unscathed, no blood, no injury. His pristine clothing swayed gently in the breeze, as if untouched by the carnage moments ago.


    ¡°I survived,¡± Nihil said softly, his tone serene, as though commenting on the weather.


    ¡°Damn you!¡± Diamond screamed, her anger palpable. Her hands moved in a blur, summoning another barrage of pink crystals from the earth. They shot forward, impaling Nihil¡¯s chest, legs, and arms. The spikes drove through him like nails into wood, pinning him to the ground. His body jerked and convulsed as blood spattered from his wounds.


    Crow roared again, his tattoos glowing with energy as they twisted and writhed, manifesting as inky tendrils that lashed across the hallway. The tattoos slithered from his skin, coiling around Nihil like living chains, tearing at his flesh, cutting him into pieces. Blood sprayed across the hallway, limbs severed, heads torn off¡ªyet no matter how they mutilated him, Nihil kept returning.


    Each time his body collapsed into a heap, it would decay, vanish, and then reappear¡ªwhole, alive, and undeterred. Even his clothing would reappear with him.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that,¡± Nihil said with a casual shrug, wiping nonexistent dust from his shoulder.


    Again and again, they tried. Diamond¡¯s crystals skewered him, and Crow¡¯s ink manipulation severed his limbs. Crow¡¯s centipede-head would crush him, and Diamond¡¯s sharp constructs would tear him apart. Yet each time, Nihil would rise anew¡ªcalm, indifferent, as though their efforts were nothing but an annoyance.


    Through it all, Octavian watched from a distance, eyes wide with awe. His grin only widened as the battle continued. ¡°Incredible¡­¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°No matter how many times they kill him, he just comes back.¡± His voice dripped with admiration, a twisted joy at the sight of such unyielding power.


    Crow¡¯s breathing grew ragged as exhaustion began to creep in. His arm was drenched in Nihil¡¯s blood, his body aching from the constant effort. ¡°This can¡¯t be real,¡± he rasped, shaking his head.


    Diamond¡¯s face was pale, sweat pouring down her forehead as she conjured more crystals, her energy dwindling. ¡°How¡­how do we kill something that refuses to die?¡± she whispered, her voice trembling with fatigue and despair.


    Nihil stood calmly, his gaze serene as he observed their frustration. ¡°Death is nothing to me,¡± he murmured. ¡°I¡¯ve been denied its embrace for so long that it¡¯s become little more than an inconvenience.¡±


    Nihil took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze unyielding. ¡°You can tear me apart a thousand times,¡± he said, his voice cold and steady, ¡°but you won¡¯t win.¡±


    Crow and Diamond¡¯s breaths came in ragged gasps, their bodies battered, muscles trembling from exhaustion. They stared in disbelief as Nihil, once again untouched, stood before them.


    But then, from behind, Octavian acted.


    Without warning, Octavian¡¯s arms twisted and morphed, transforming into thick, writhing tentacles. They lashed out like serpents, coiling around Crow and Diamond¡¯s legs with terrifying speed. In one fluid motion, he spun on his heel, yanking them off their feet, and flung them high into the air.


    Before they could react, Octavian opened his mouth wide, releasing a thunderous draconic roar. A violent torrent of water erupted from his throat, slamming into Diamond with the force of a battering ram. She was sent hurtling across the battlefield, crashing into the remnants of a shattered wall with a bone-jarring impact.


    Octavian smirked, his voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. ¡°We¡¯re allies now. It would be unfair if I were useless, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Nihil glanced at him, unimpressed. ¡°You are still useless,¡± he replied coldly. ¡°If you weren¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t have needed to come here to bail you out.¡± His tone was indifferent, yet cutting, as if Octavian¡¯s presence was nothing more than a burden. ¡°Sadly, I can¡¯t let you die¡­ at least, not yet.¡±


    Octavian narrowed his eyes, the surrounding air bristling with tension. ¡°Sadly? What is your problem with me?¡± His voice was laced with irritation, barely masking the growing anger behind his words.


    Nihil paused, his eyes locked onto Octavian¡¯s with a cold, unwavering gaze. ¡°You¡¯re a blight,¡± he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries-old contempt. ¡°The world deserves to be rid of you. Let¡¯s get this over with, so I no longer have to endure the sight of your wretched face.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Beneath the mask of arrogance, a flicker of fear crossed his face. ¡°Not until you tell me why you hate me so much,¡± he demanded, his voice lower now, tinged with desperation.


    Nihil¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but something dark and menacing flickered in his eyes. He took a slow, measured breath before speaking, his voice calm but laced with venom. ¡°I know about the secret basement,¡± he said, his words like a blade cutting through the tension. ¡°I know about Bjorn.¡±


    The mention of the name hit Octavian like a thunderbolt. His entire body stiffened, the color draining from his face. For a moment, his confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a flash of raw shock and panic. His mind raced, struggling to process what Nihil had just revealed. How did he know? How could he possibly know?


    ¡°Bastard,¡± Octavian hissed, the word escaping his lips with a venomous edge, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage.


    But Nihil had already turned away, his focus now shifting toward Crow and Diamond, who lay battered on the ground. To him, Octavian was nothing more than a nuisance, a distraction to be dealt with later.


    Diamond and Crow staggered to their feet, their breaths ragged, hearts pounding with exhaustion and fear. Their minds whirled with uncertainty, a growing dread gnawing at their resolve. Nihil, seemingly invincible, loomed ever closer, his eerie calm unsettling.


    With a mere flick of his wrist, Nihil manifested his white spear once more. Its blade shimmered with a cold, deathly light, and with the gentlest of movements, he released a powerful shockwave. The air trembled, and the force hit Diamond and Crow like a tidal wave, sending them both flying backward, crashing against the ground with heavy thuds.


    ¡°Goddamn it,¡± Diamond gasped, pushing herself up, her body aching from the repeated assaults. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do against this bastard. He¡¯s too strong.¡± Her voice cracked under the weight of despair.


    Crow grimaced, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to his feet. ¡°We need to escape,¡± he muttered, glancing around desperately. ¡°Damn it, I hope Finch comes to retrieve us soon.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    But there was no time to dwell on that hope. Nihil was already advancing again, his steps measured, deliberate, and unhurried¡ªlike the slow march of death itself. Diamond, unwilling to give up, raised her hand and summoned another volley of sharp, pink crystals. They shot through the air like bullets, slicing through Nihil¡¯s flesh with vicious precision. His body tore apart under the assault, crystals embedding themselves deep into his limbs, his torso¡ªshredding him.


    Yet, despite the damage, Nihil did not waver. His pace never quickened, and his expression never changed. Even as his body was torn asunder, he continued walking toward them, calmly, with an air of inevitability.


    Crow snarled in frustration, adrenaline coursing through his veins. ¡°Then let¡¯s see how you handle this,¡± he growled, charging forward, his prosthetic arm crackling with energy. In a blur of motion, Crow summoned the inky black tendrils from his tattoos, forming thorned whips that lashed out violently, slashing across Nihil¡¯s chest, tearing into his flesh, and shredding his form apart again.


    For a moment, the hallway was filled with the sound of ripping flesh and the crash of falling bodies as Nihil was reduced to a heap of blood and gore.


    But just as they had seen before, Nihil¡¯s form began to shift, the mangled pieces of his body reassembling themselves like a grotesque puzzle coming back together. His voice echoed through the air, as chilling and detached as ever: ¡°I survived.¡±


    Diamond¡¯s eyes widened with terror, but she acted quickly, summoning all her remaining strength. With a powerful thrust of her arms, she summoned a massive crystal, larger than any before, and slammed it down over Nihil¡¯s form. The crystal encased him completely, trapping him within its gleaming, impenetrable structure. He was frozen, motionless, like a bug sealed in amber.


    ¡°If we can¡¯t kill him,¡± Diamond panted, ¡°this should work. We¡¯ll trap him and get out of here.¡±


    For a fleeting moment, there was silence. The crystal shimmered in the dim light, an almost comforting barrier between them and the unstoppable force that had tormented them so.


    But that moment of relief was short-lived.


    Without warning, Nihil¡¯s voice echoed from behind them, calm and dripping with cold amusement. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to tell you this,¡± he whispered, ¡°but even if you restrain my entire body, I can just stop my heart¡­ easily.¡±


    Diamond¡¯s heart skipped a beat, her blood turning to ice. Slowly, she turned, her worst fear realized. Nihil stood behind her, perfectly whole, his cold gaze fixed on her with that eerie, unshakable calm.


    A tear rolled down Diamond¡¯s face as her legs gave out beneath her, her body trembling with fear. She could barely breathe, the weight of Nihil¡¯s unstoppable approach crushing her spirit.


    Crow stepped in front of her, arms outstretched, his body battered but resolute. His breathing was labored, but his eyes were fierce, and determined. ¡°I won¡¯t let him touch you,¡± he said, voice hoarse from the pain and exhaustion.


    Diamond¡¯s voice was shaky, her heart pounding. ¡°Crow¡­ you can¡¯t do this. Don¡¯t throw your life away. You¡­ you wanted to propose to Angel, right? I bet she survived this entire mess. She¡¯s waiting for you¡­ so you can¡¯t die here. Not for me.¡±


    Crow looked back at her, his gaze softening for a moment, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, forcing a weak smile. ¡°I could never let a companion suffer in front of me. Not while I still have the strength to stand.¡±


    ¡°How touching,¡± Nihil¡¯s voice cut through the tension, cold and dispassionate. He raised his spear high, the air around him crackling with energy as he prepared to bring it down on them.


    Just as Nihil¡¯s spear descended, there was a sudden blur of motion¡ªa flash of steel¡ªand the sound of tearing flesh. Nihil¡¯s arm was severed cleanly, falling to the ground with a dull thud.


    A figure appeared behind Nihil, his presence sharp and commanding. ¡°It¡¯s you again,¡± Nihil said, his voice laced with faint irritation as he turned to face the new arrival. His severed arm began to regenerate immediately, the flesh knitting back together like nothing had happened. ¡°What a pain.¡±


    ¡°I could say the same thing,¡± Nikolai replied, his eyes narrowing as he watched Nihil warily, his blade still drawn and ready. His voice carried the weight of countless battles, his posture that of a man who knew the monster he was facing all too well.


    Crow¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, relief flooding through him at the sight of Nikolai. But before he could speak, Nikolai glanced at him, his expression grim. ¡°Crow, I¡¯m sorry to inform you¡­ you and Diamond are the only survivors of from this raid. Now, keep it that way. Retreat.¡±


    Crow¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The weight of the news was almost unbearable, but he nodded, his resolve hardening. ¡°Understood,¡± he whispered. He turned and scooped Diamond into his arms, her body limp from exhaustion.


    Behind them, Finch had already conjured a shimmering portal, her ability creating a gateway back to their base. ¡°Hurry, Crow,¡± she urged, her voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯ll hold it as long as I can.¡±


    Crow took one last look at Nikolai, who stood firmly between them and Nihil, a lone defender against an unkillable force. ¡°Thank you,¡± Crow whispered, before turning and running through the portal, carrying Diamond with him.


    As they passed through the gate, the world shifted, and they found themselves back at the base, the remnants of the battlefield fading behind them. The sounds of war still echoed in their ears, but they were safe¡ªfor now.


    Back in the hallway, Nikolai squared off with Nihil, his grip tightening on his blade. ¡°What are you?¡± Nikolai asked, his voice low and steady. ¡°How are you always there¡ªalways at the right time to ruin my plans?¡±


    Nihil¡¯s cold eyes remained fixed on him, offering no answer. Instead, a blade of pure darkness manifested in Nihil¡¯s hand, swirling with malevolent energy. With a swift motion, Nihil slashed at Nikolai, the blade cutting through the air with deadly precision.


    Nikolai reacted instantly, dodging with practiced ease. But even with his skill, he knew this fight wasn¡¯t one he could win¡ªnot here, not now. He began to retreat, his movements careful and deliberate, eyes never leaving Nihil.


    ¡°H-hurry, sir,¡± Finch stammered, her voice quivering as she maintained the portal. ¡°I don¡¯t want to stick around here any longer than we have to.¡±


    Nikolai¡¯s eyes flicked toward the portal, and with one last glance at Nihil, he nodded and dashed toward the gate. Just as he stepped through the shimmering barrier, Nihil moved with lightning speed. His sword flew from his hand, spinning through the air with terrifying force.


    The blade struck just as Finch was entering the gate, slicing clean through her leg with a sickening sound. She screamed in agony as she fell backward, her body tumbling through the gate just in time, but her severed leg was left behind.


    The gate closed with a final flicker, leaving Nihil standing alone on the now-silent battlefield.


    ¡°Killing her would¡¯ve made my life much easier,¡± Nihil muttered to himself, his gaze lingering where the gate had been. He sighed, his cold indifference returning. ¡°What a pain.¡±


    Nihil stood over Octavian, his presence casting a suffocating shadow. With a fluid motion, Nihil manifested another blade of pure darkness, its edge shimmering with malevolent energy. He raised the weapon with deliberate precision, the blade hovering menacingly close to Octavian¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Let me give you a piece of advice, you trash,¡± Nihil said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. ¡°Four other members of A.E.G.I.S are already aware of your little basement project. It won¡¯t be long before someone decides to act on what they know.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s breath hitched, but he forced his fear down, narrowing his eyes as he glared up at Nihil. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just kill me now?¡± he growled, anger and desperation lacing his words. ¡°You clearly want to, you masked bastard.¡±


    Nihil tilted his head slightly, as though considering the notion, but his voice remained chillingly detached. ¡°For things to proceed as they must,¡± he began, ¡°even your worthless life can contribute to the course of events that are to come.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, a sickening realization settling over him. ¡°So,¡± he spat, his voice seething with bitter frustration, ¡°you¡¯re an immortal who knows the future, is that it?¡±


    Nihil paused for a brief moment, as though contemplating the question. ¡°To a degree, yes,¡± he replied, his tone as calm as ever. Without another word, he turned away, the blade of darkness dissolving into nothingness as he began to walk off.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Octavian called after him, panic and fury mixing in his voice. He wasn¡¯t done with Nihil, not yet. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going? You have a lot of questions you need to answer!¡±


    Desperation overtaking him, Octavian lunged forward and grabbed Nihil by the shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of Nihil¡¯s cloak. His grip tightened as he pulled Nihil back, refusing to let him go.


    Nihil didn¡¯t even flinch. His voice was steady, almost indifferent, as he spoke. ¡°Remove your arm¡­ or I will.¡±


    Octavian¡¯s grip only intensified, his pride preventing him from backing down. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you walk away,¡± he snarled, his defiance hanging heavy in the air.


    A split second later, before Octavian could even react, a searing pain shot through his body. He looked down in horror as his arm, once clenched tightly around Nihil¡¯s shoulder, fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Blood spattered across the floor as the severed limb twitched once before lying still.


    Nihil continued walking, unbothered, as if nothing had happened. His cold, methodical steps echoed through the silence, each one carrying with it a weight that suffocated the surrounding space.


    Octavian¡¯s eyes widened, shock momentarily paralyzing him. But then, with a deep, primal growl, his body responded. His regenerative abilities kicked in, and within moments, a new arm began to form, flesh and bone knitting together as if it had never been severed. The pain subsided, but his mind was now a storm of thoughts.


    Who was this masked figure, truly? How did he know so much¡ªtoo much? And why was his life, his wretched existence, necessary for what was to come?


    Octavian clenched his newly formed fist, his eyes narrowing as Nihil¡¯s figure disappeared into the distance. The questions burned in his mind, each one more tormenting than the last. But for now, he had no answers. Only the chilling certainty that Nihil, this being beyond comprehension, knew more than he let on¡ªand that Octavian¡¯s future, whether he liked it or not, was tangled in the same web of fate Nihil was weaving.


    Octavian slumped against the cold, cracked wall, the weight of Nihil¡¯s parting words pressing heavily on his chest. His hand shook slightly as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, the familiar act bringing him a semblance of control. He lit the cigarette with a flick of his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating his face, before taking a long drag. The smoke curled lazily in the air, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts battering his mind.


    ¡°That man said four individuals know about my project,¡± he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with frustration. His brow furrowed, and he exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the dark. ¡°The boss is definitely one of them¡­ but as for the other three? I have no damn clue.¡±


    He sighed deeply, letting his back rest fully against the wall. The tension in his muscles eased for a moment, but his mind continued to churn. Every piece of the puzzle seemed just out of reach, mocking him with their obscurity. ¡°The Bookkeeper,¡± he said, dragging out the name like a curse. ¡°That bastard knows everything. He¡¯s probably one of them. Always watching, always scheming.¡±


    Another drag. Another cloud of smoke. The edge of the cigarette burned in the dim light, a flicker of red in the darkness.


    ¡°That bag-faced freak¡­ He¡¯s always been perceptive. Too damn perceptive,¡± Octavian mused, recalling countless encounters with the silent, enigmatic figure. He shivered involuntarily, remembering the cold gaze from behind the mask that always seemed to know more than it should.


    ¡°And then¡­ Sabrina,¡± he continued, the thought creeping into his mind. ¡°She might¡¯ve read my mind at some point. Maybe when I was thinking about it. She¡¯s always been tricky like that.¡±


    The cigarette hung loosely between his fingers now, the ash growing longer with each passing second. Octavian¡¯s gaze drifted to the ground, his mind struggling to make sense of it all. He was no stranger to playing games in the shadows, but this? This felt different. Bigger.


    ¡°If my guesses are right,¡± he muttered to himself, ¡°I¡¯m up against four of A.E.G.I.S.¡¯s higher-ups. No way in hell I can take them all on. Not with the kind of power they wield.¡±


    His voice faltered, the realization settling deep within him. The odds were impossibly stacked, the weight of it pressing down on him like a noose tightening around his neck. He took another drag of the cigarette, but this time the smoke didn¡¯t calm him. Instead, it felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in around him.


    Still, a grim smile crept onto his face. ¡°None of those four are the type to act on this information. They¡¯ve always got their own plans, their own secrets. The boss might even reward me if things go well,¡± he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.


    But even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Nihil''s words replayed in his mind, over and over: ¡°It won¡¯t be long before someone decides to act.¡± There was no telling what the future held, not with that masked monster lurking in the shadows.


    ¡°What a pain,¡± he muttered under his breath, his mind still racing. ¡°Always someone pulling the strings from behind the curtain.¡±

 Chapter 42-Inferiority and Superiority

    Octavian crushed the remnants of his cigarette under his heel, the ember snuffed out in an instant. The weight of the recent confrontation still clung to him, a suffocating presence that gnawed at his already frayed nerves. His body ached, exhaustion tugging at his limbs, but there was no time for rest. With a weary sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he made his way back toward his office.


    The dimly lit hallways stretched out before him, the silence heavy, broken only by the soft echo of his footsteps. As he approached the familiar wooden bookcase, he barely hesitated, his fingers moving with the precision of routine. A subtle pull on the shelf, and the hidden mechanism clicked. The entire bookcase shifted, revealing the secret elevator behind it.


    Stepping inside the cold, sterile confines of the elevator, Octavian¡¯s calm facade cracked for just a moment, his hand tightening into a fist as the doors slid shut. His descent was slow, agonizingly so, and with every second that passed, a sense of panic crept into his chest. His mind raced, replaying Nihil¡¯s words. Four people knew. Four. He wasn¡¯t safe. Not yet.


    The doors opened with a soft hiss, and Octavian stepped out into a long corridor bathed in harsh fluorescent light. He hurried forward, moving past rows of failed experiments¡ªgrotesque, half-formed beings suspended in tanks, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void. Their silent presence felt like a reminder of his own failures, mocking him as he passed. He quickened his pace, the air around him thick with tension.


    At last, he entered the main area, a sprawling underground laboratory filled with the hum of machinery and the frantic movements of scientists. They barely looked up from their work as he stormed in, but the atmosphere shifted immediately, the air charged with unease.


    One scientist, a young man with wide, anxious eyes, dared to step forward. ¡°Sir, what¡¯s happening?¡± he asked, his voice trembling. ¡°We¡¯ve been hearing loud noises from the facility above. Is everything¡ª¡±


    The words never finished. In a blur of motion, Octavian¡¯s fist slammed into the scientist''s jaw with terrifying force, the crack of bone breaking the stillness. The man''s body crumpled to the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The room fell deathly silent, every eye now locked on the lifeless body at Octavian¡¯s feet.


    Octavian exhaled sharply, his gaze sweeping over the rest of the scientists, who stood frozen in place, terror etched across their faces. His voice was low, but each word cut through the silence like a knife. ¡°Listen up. I need this project finished. If it¡¯s not completed by the end of the year, I will personally kill each and every one of you.¡±


    He stepped forward, his shadow looming over them like a specter of death. ¡°We¡¯re close¡ªtoo close, to fail now. So stop wasting my time and hurry the hell up.¡±


    The scientists scrambled back to their workstations, fear driving their every movement. Octavian watched them for a moment, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. The weight of everything¡ªthe project, the threats, the looming shadow of the higher-ups, pressed down on him, threatening to crush him if he didn¡¯t maintain control.


    Octavian¡¯s gaze locked onto the center tank, the one that held the centerpiece of his twisted obsession. The green liquid within bubbled softly, casting an eerie glow across the room. Suspended in the fluid was the unconscious form of Bjorn, the man who had haunted Octavian even in death. His massive frame floated lifelessly, yet the mere sight of him sent waves of fury crashing through Octavian¡¯s chest.


    With a sudden roar, Octavian slammed his fist against the thick glass of the tank, the force causing a ripple in the liquid. But the tank held firm. Bjorn''s serene, unseeing face remained unmoved, still looking down on him¡ªor at least, that¡¯s how it felt.


    ¡°You damn bastard!¡± Octavian''s voice cracked, thick with rage and bitterness. ¡°I bet you think you could¡¯ve finished this project by now, don¡¯t you?¡± His fist trembled against the glass, his knuckles white. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll prove it! I¡¯ll prove I¡¯m better than you! I hate you¡­ I hate you so much!¡± His voice rose, echoing off the cold, sterile walls. ¡°Even after I finally killed you, why the hell are you still looking down on me?!¡±


    The room fell into a tense silence, the only sound the quiet hum of machinery. The scientists stationed around the lab stood frozen, exchanging nervous glances, their fear palpable. They knew better than to interrupt Octavian¡¯s tirade. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and he might turn his wrath on them next.


    Octavian¡¯s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as his eyes bore into the floating figure of Bjorn, as if waiting for some acknowledgment, some sign of defeat from his dead rival. But the man remained unmoving, untouched by Octavian''s fury. The silence felt like mockery.


    He whirled around, his eyes burning with the need to vent his frustration. ¡°Hey, you!¡± he barked, pointing at a nearby scientist, who flinched under his gaze. ¡°Release one of the freaks. I need to break something.¡±


    The scientist scrambled to obey, his hands shaking as he rushed to the nearest tank. With a press of a button, the green liquid within began to drain, revealing a grotesque figure curled up inside. The glass door slid open with a hiss, and the creature spilled out, its long, skeletal limbs stretching unnaturally.


    It was a humanoid abomination, its gray skin clinging tightly to its bones, as if stretched too thin. Black, jagged claws tipped its elongated fingers, and its head, disturbingly feminine, tilted upward, locking its blank, black eyes on Octavian. The creature''s face was a twisted reminder of the human it once was, a cruel parody of beauty now distorted into something monstrous.


    It moved with unsettling agility, loping across the floor on all fours, its grotesque limbs bending at impossible angles. With a low, guttural roar, it launched itself toward Octavian, its mouth opening wide to reveal rows of sharp, uneven teeth.


    The creature¡¯s teeth clamped down on Octavian''s arm, but instead of the satisfying crunch of flesh, it met an unyielding surface. In an instant, shimmering sea dragon scales manifested along his skin, shielding him from the attack. The abomination¡¯s jagged teeth shattered, blood spraying from its broken mouth.


    Octavian sneered, gripping the creature by its throat with one powerful hand. He slammed it to the ground with a sickening thud, pinning it beneath his weight. ¡°I¡¯m better than you, I''m better than all of you!¡± he yelled, his voice filled with hatred. Without hesitation, he began pounding his fist into its head, each blow landing with brutal force.


    The creature''s grayish blood splattered across Octavian''s face as he continued, his punches relentless. The sound of cracking bone and splintering flesh filled the room, but he didn¡¯t stop¡ªnot until the thing¡¯s head was nothing more than a crushed, pulpy mass on the cold floor.


    Breathing heavily, Octavian finally stood, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. He glanced down at the lifeless corpse beneath him, the twisted form now unrecognizable. His rage had subsided, replaced by a cold emptiness.


    ¡°That feels better,¡± he muttered, his voice calm once more. His eyes scanned the room, settling on a nearby scientist. ¡°Clean that up.¡±


    The scientist nodded frantically, too afraid to speak, and rushed to comply.


    Octavian turned to leave, but his eyes lingered on the tank holding Bjorn. For a brief moment, a flicker of something darker passed through his gaze¡ªhatred, yes, but also something more insidious, inferiority. No matter how much power he amassed, no matter how many monsters he crushed beneath his heel, Bjorn¡¯s presence was always there, looming over him, even in death.


    Octavian strode through the ruined halls of the facility, his eyes scanning the carnage with a detached calm. Bodies of both enemies and agents littered the floor, blood pooling around them in a grotesque display of violence. The air was thick with the metallic scent of death, but Octavian barely noticed. His focus was elsewhere, calculating, and assessing the damage.


    ¡°I see Ivan had some fun,¡± he muttered under his breath. The sight of enemies torn apart in precise, brutal ways confirmed it. ¡°Good. He is this place''s main protector, after all.¡±


    As he continued down the corridor, his steps slowed when he encountered Ivan. The towering figure was flanked by his students, who looked both impressed and slightly shaken. Ivan¡¯s presence was commanding, his skeletal form even more intimidating after the battle.


    ¡°It seems the majority of the enemies have been neutralized," Octavian commented, his voice low but steady. ¡°I crossed paths with two of their more formidable members, but Nikolai appeared to save them before I could finish the job.¡±


    Ivan nodded, his hollow eyes flickering with an eerie light. ¡°I¡¯ve taken care of most of the threats on my end. However, I did uncover a spy from another organization. But¡­ one of my students didn¡¯t show up to class today. I fear something might¡¯ve happened.¡± His voice, usually unshaken, carried a hint of concern.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Before Octavian could respond, Frank appeared as Maxwell trailed behind him, looking exhausted but unharmed. Frank¡¯s usual jovial expression was gone, replaced by a cold, unsettling calm. What immediately drew their attention, however, was the absence of the nail embedded in Frank¡¯s head¡ªthe nail that regulated his wild emotions.


    Without hesitation, both Octavian and Ivan reacted. Ivan¡¯s bones shifted, forming a sword of jagged ivory that hovered dangerously close to Frank¡¯s throat. Octavian¡¯s arm transformed instantly, the familiar scales of his sea dragon form rippling across his skin as razor-sharp claws pressed against the other side of Frank¡¯s neck. The tension was palpable, as both men prepared for a possible lethal encounter.


    Frank, however, didn¡¯t flinch. His eyes, devoid of their usual warmth, stared back at them with unnerving calm. ¡°Stop it,¡± he said, his voice cold, almost mechanical. ¡°I could kill both of you with ease. Be grateful, I have no reason to.¡±


    His words hung in the air like a threat left unspoken. Ivan and Octavian exchanged a quick glance but didn¡¯t lower their weapons. Frank continued, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°I dealt with three major enemies. Though I must give credit to Maxwell here¡ªhe was crucial in handling one of them.¡±


    Ivan¡¯s sword remained poised, though his posture relaxed slightly. ¡°And where exactly were you? Things became dangerous, especially when we had to search for you.¡± There was no accusation in his voice, only a teacher¡¯s genuine concern.


    Frank¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change as he calmly replied, ¡°I invited Maxwell into my office. He¡¯s fond of Bjorn Jr., and I didn¡¯t realize how much time had passed. By the time I noticed, the facility was under attack, and three assassins had already come for us.¡±


    Ivan¡¯s hollow eyes flickered again. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, lowering his bone sword at last. ¡°But next time, inform me if you¡¯re going to take one of my students. Especially when things are tense.¡±


    Before the conversation could continue, Maxwell was surrounded by the twins, Sarah and Emily, their bright eyes full of excitement. ¡°Maxwell! Maxwell! You should¡¯ve seen it¡ªIvan was amazing! He exploded one of the bad guys!¡± they chimed in unison, their voices full of admiration.


    Maxwell gave them a tired smile, but before he could respond, Ashe stepped in, her voice cutting through the excitement. ¡°Knock it off, you two. He¡¯s clearly exhausted. Let him rest.¡±


    Sarah and Emily pouted in unison, folding their arms. ¡°Come on, big brother, you¡¯re always such a stick in the mud,¡± they complained.


    Octavian, watching the interaction from the sidelines, couldn¡¯t help but feel a strange sense of detachment from their lightheartedness. His mind was elsewhere¡ªon the battle, on Bjorn, on the looming threat of A.E.G.I.S.


    Rook, however, wasn¡¯t as easily distracted. He turned to Maxwell, his curiosity piqued. ¡°What was Frank like in combat? Ivan was really strong, but I¡¯ve always wondered about Frank.¡±


    Maxwell blinked, still catching his breath from everything that had happened. ¡°I¡ª¡± he started, but then he paused, his eyes widening slightly. ¡°Wait, I just noticed that Ivan is a skeleton?¡±


    Jack couldn¡¯t help but laugh, clapping Maxwell on the shoulder. ¡°Yeah, yeah, ignore that for now. Come on, I¡¯m curious¡ªwhat was Frank like in a fight?¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s mind flashed back to the battle, to Frank¡¯s eerie calm and the cold efficiency with which he dispatched their enemies. ¡°His fighting style was¡­ terrifying. But strong,¡± he admitted quietly. ¡°Very strong.¡±


    Cynthia, leaning casually against the wall, chimed in with a smirk. ¡°All the teachers here are monsters in one way or another. You¡¯ll get used to it eventually.¡±


    The group shared a brief, uneasy laugh, but there was an underlying truth to Cynthia¡¯s words. These teachers, these protectors, were far from ordinary. They were forces of nature, each more dangerous than the last.


    As the conversation continued, Octavian¡¯s gaze drifted once again to Frank, whose blank expression hadn¡¯t changed. The absence of the nail, the cold, detached demeanor¡ªit didn¡¯t sit right with him. Something had shifted, and Octavian couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before Frank¡¯s true nature revealed itself once more.


    ¡°Octavian, I have a request for you,¡± Frank said, his voice calm but carrying an undertone that hinted at something darker, more dangerous.


    Octavian raised an eyebrow, his draconic gaze locking onto Frank¡¯s emotionless face. ¡°What is it? If it¡¯s within reason, I might consider it.¡±


    Frank moved closer, his footsteps eerily quiet in the dimly lit hallway. He leaned in, his breath cold against Octavian''s ear as he whispered, ¡°I¡¯m done dealing with the trash here. Anymore disrespect from these agents, and I¡¯ll kill them on the spot. Have my office properly prepared, and let it be known, any acts of vandalism, or any slight, will be met with immediate execution.¡±


    Octavian''s eyes flickered, the words hanging in the air like a palpable threat. He tilted his head slightly, studying Frank¡¯s new demeanor. This was a side of him that hadn¡¯t surfaced before¡ªan unfiltered, brutal authority that gave no room for argument.


    ¡°I understand,¡± Octavian said, though his tone was laced with sarcasm. ¡°Then you¡¯d better start acting like a proper facility manager. Or better yet, why not just go ahead and give me the position? You¡¯re clearly struggling to keep it together.¡±


    Frank smiled, a thin, humorless grin spreading across his face as he stepped back. ¡°Over your dead body,¡± he replied, his voice cold yet tinged with amusement.


    Octavian¡¯s gaze narrowed, watching Frank retreat. He muttered under his breath, ¡°What a pain. The punching bag finally found a spine.¡±


    The tension lingered as Frank disappeared into the shadows, leaving Octavian to reflect on the shift in power dynamics. The agents continued their conversations nearby, unaware of the change that had just occurred.


    Far away, in a distant castle shrouded in darkness, Pandora sat in his room, the air thick with the weight of his thoughts. A green door materialized in the corner, its surface rippling like liquid glass. Moments later, Eden stepped through, her expression smug as she surveyed her brother.


    ¡°Hello, sister,¡± Pandora greeted, his voice smooth and measured. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?¡±


    Eden¡¯s eyes gleamed with amusement. ¡°What a bold move, brother. Trying to kill both our apostles at once, and yet¡­ you failed miserably on both accounts.¡± Her words dripped with mockery, each syllable a dagger aimed at his pride.


    Pandora smirked, unbothered by her taunts. ¡°On the bright side, I¡¯ve gained a new pawn. Quite a useful one, at that.¡±


    Eden''s laugh was soft but sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. ¡°A pawn? That man is only half an apostle, brother. We¡¯ve gained the other half. You¡¯re still playing with scraps.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Then it¡¯s only our dear brother who remains without any allies worth mentioning.¡± His tone was light, almost playful, as if the stakes of their deadly game were nothing more than entertainment to him.


    Eden¡¯s smile faded, her gaze sharpening. ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure about that. Your little stunt has angered the Reaper. He¡¯s a threat far more dangerous than any you¡¯ve faced.¡±


    Pandora waved her words away with a dismissive hand. ¡°The Reaper? Perhaps. But the man who controls his leash holds it tightly. He¡¯ll never let it go.¡±


    Eden took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. ¡°You underestimate him, brother. You¡¯ve greatly offended a powerful enemy. I wonder¡­ how long will your little organization last before it crumbles?¡±


    Pandora¡¯s face darkened at the mention of the Reaper, but he quickly masked his irritation with a cold smile. ¡°I¡¯m more offended by your audacity. Reviving your apostle just as he was about to meet his end? That¡¯s a new low, even for you.¡±


    Eden laughed again, the sound hollow and mocking. ¡°Oh, please. You cheated first, brother. I thought we agreed to choose children as our apostles, yet you picked an already established awakened.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lecture me on fairness,¡± Pandora snapped, his patience wearing thin. ¡°My choice is far more balanced than the ones you and our other brother have made. At least my apostle is still human. If you want to whine, direct your anger toward Fate. That bastard is the real cheater. He picked the one person he never should have.¡±


    Eden''s smile twisted into something more sinister. ¡°You left him with no choice. This game of yours is nothing but a thinly veiled attempt at revenge.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s gaze hardened, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. ¡°Can you blame me? After what that monster did to our brother¡­ we were too weak to stop him then. But now? Now I have the chance to avenge him, to right the wrongs of the past.¡±


    Eden¡¯s eyes softened, if only for a moment, as she studied her brother¡¯s face. ¡°Goodbye, brother,¡± she said quietly, before stepping back through the green door.


    Pandora stood at the edge of his darkened chamber, the flickering light of a solitary candle casting long shadows across his face. His eyes glowed with a cold, calculating fury as he gazed out the window into the stormy night beyond. The sound of distant thunder rumbled through the castle walls, but it was the storm brewing inside him that roared the loudest.


    ¡°How annoying,¡± he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. His hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm as he fought to suppress the rising tide of anger. ¡°Players who were never meant to be part of this game¡­ have entered it.¡±


    His gaze darkened further, each name falling from his lips like a curse, laden with contempt. ¡°The demon, that human-loving bastard.¡± His voice dripped with venom. ¡°The snake, slithering through the shadows¡ªalways lurking, always watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And the angel, so righteous, so pure on the surface¡­ yet rotting with madness beneath his wings.¡±


    He turned away from the window, his mind swirling with dark thoughts of the newcomers. ¡°All of them¡­ intruders. Interlopers. Meddling in what they cannot comprehend. They aren''t bound by the rules, yet they dare challenge me?¡±


    Pandora¡¯s eyes ignited with a cold, calculated resolve as he gazed at the empty frames mounted on the wall. Each frame, marked with a name, a promise. Soon, a butterfly would be added to each, Aether, Ophiuchus, and Helios. His lips twisted into a sneer, his voice a low whisper, thick with venom. ¡°I alone must win this game. It was always meant for me¡ªmy vengeance, my triumph.¡±


    Thunder crashed outside, as if the storm itself raged in agreement with his dark oath. His eyes flickered with a sinister gleam, and a cruel smile danced on his lips, a twisted mockery of joy.


    ¡°This game¡­ is mine. And I will end them all.¡±

 Chapter 43-Clockwork Council

    The morning after the invasion, Wallace sat slouched in his office, nursing a cup of coffee that, for once, wasn¡¯t laced with poison. His exhaustion was palpable¡ªthe dark bags under his eyes were evidence of yet another sleepless night. Piles of paperwork towered on his desk, a mountain he had chipped away at for hours, yet had barely made a dent. No matter how much coffee he downed, his focus blurred, and the work ahead of him seemed endless.


    With a groan, Wallace stood, stretching his stiff limbs. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn¡¯t eaten. He reached for the door, intent on grabbing some food. But as he twisted the handle and stepped through, the familiar surroundings of his office vanished. In an instant, he found himself not in the hallway but within the towering shelves of the Bookkeeper¡¯s library.


    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Valentine,¡± a warm, velvety voice greeted him. The Bookkeeper sat at a grand desk amidst towering bookshelves, his calm, ever-knowing eyes focused on Wallace. ¡°Apologies for the abrupt invitation, but we¡¯ve called an emergency meeting to discuss yesterday¡¯s events.¡±


    Wallace blinked, still adjusting to the sudden shift in scenery. He rubbed his temples, the fog of his sleepless night clouding his thoughts. Reluctantly, he slipped off his glove, revealing the intricate tattoo on his hand¡ªa clock frozen at the ten o¡¯clock position. The faint glow pulsed as the Bookkeeper nodded approvingly.


    A door materialized behind the Bookkeeper, glowing faintly with the same ethereal light. The Bookkeeper gestured toward it. ¡°After you.¡±


    Sighing, Wallace stepped through the door and into the council¡¯s meeting chamber. It was an imposing room, dominated by a long, elegant table with thirteen distinct chairs, each marking a different hour.


    Wallace slid into his seat¡ªthe one marked for ten o¡¯clock¡ªand scanned the room.


    At the nine o¡¯clock position sat a small woman, no bigger than a doll. Perched on a miniature chair atop the table, Celeste Lovegood looked utterly bored. Her long cyan hair was styled into twin ponytails, each tied with delicate purple bows that matched the frilly dress she wore. Her green eyes flickered briefly toward Wallace before she went back to fidgeting, her tiny legs swinging idly over the edge of her chair. Her codename was The Doll.


    The eight o¡¯clock chair remained conspicuously empty. A few members exchanged curious glances, unsure of why its usual occupant hadn¡¯t appeared, though no one dared to speak the question aloud.


    At the seven o¡¯clock chair sat Jonathan Brooke, a serene smile playing on his lips. His fingers twirled a small mushroom, its form constantly shifting¡ªchanging colors, sprouting new shapes, only to revert to its original form. He seemed lost in his own world, amused by the simple game he played. His codename, fittingly, was The Gardener.


    The six o¡¯clock chair belonged to Sabrina Washington. Her lavender hair cascaded over her shoulders, and a small black cat-shaped hair clip gleamed beneath the soft light of the chamber. Her sharp red eyes peered over the rim of her red glasses as she surveyed the room. Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt and a red sweater, she looked both scholarly and unsettling, especially when her gaze lingered a bit too long on the male members of the council. Her codename was The Radio, a title that hinted at her uncanny ability to gather and transmit information.


    At the five o¡¯clock seat sat a young boy, Lazarus Grimwood. His medium-length, messy blue hair fell in uneven tufts around his face, contrasting starkly with his ghostly pale skin. His red eyes, half-lidded with drowsiness, gave him an otherworldly presence, a quiet reminder that there was something not quite human about him. He wore a black sweater that seemed to swallow him whole and a white coat far too large for his small frame. As he absentmindedly clutched a plush shark, its fin peeking out from under his arm, a small, sharp fang caught the light whenever he smiled. His codename is, The Director. It was clear he was on the verge of drifting off, his body gently swaying in his chair, as if the weight of his role was too much for him to stay awake.


    Next to him, occupying the four o¡¯clock seat, was Eliza Levine, her presence starkly contrasted with the boy''s. Bandages were tightly wrapped around her body, remnants of the brutal battle she had faced just a day prior. Her horn, a symbol of her dragonoid nature, had healed, but the absence of her severed arm was still painfully apparent. Her face was drawn with fatigue, her body battered, but her eyes blazed with the same fiery resolve that had earned her the codename, The Slayer. She sat stiffly, eager for the meeting to begin, eager to take action. Yesterday¡¯s ordeal had clearly taken its toll, but there was no room for rest in her mind.


    The three o¡¯clock chair was empty, a silent testament to the one who presided over these gatherings¡ªthe enigmatic Bookkeeper. Everyone knew that this seat belonged to him, though he rarely needed to occupy it. He was the invisible force that controlled this space, his influence felt rather than seen, a constant presence in the room, despite his absence.


    At the two o¡¯clock seat sat a strange and unsettling figure. His attire was immaculate¡ªa black suit and tie, the very picture of formal elegance. But the little that could be seen of his skin was deathly pale, almost like a corpse preserved too long. His most defining feature was the crude paper bag he wore over his head. The face drawn on it was grotesque in its simplicity¡ªa pair of circular scribbles for eyes, and a blank expression that gave him an eerie, childlike aura. His name was unknown, but his codename was whispered with both curiosity and dread, The Harvester. His movements were subtle, almost mechanical, as if the person beneath the bag was as lifeless as his outward appearance suggested.


    The one o¡¯clock seat was occupied by a woman who, despite the heaviness of the room, exuded an air of calm. Her eyes were a brilliant, soothing blue, like a serene sky after a storm. A crown of flowers adorned her head, each blossom a different species, vibrant with color and life. Her face, however, bore a long, jagged scar that cut diagonally across it, a testament to battles fought and survived. She wore a black, frilly dress, an odd contrast to the natural beauty of her floral crown, and as she casually ate an apple, she seemed utterly unbothered by the tense atmosphere. Her name was Eve, and her codename is The Origin.


    At the head of the table sat the most commanding figure of them all¡ªAlexander Jones. His mere presence dominated the room, every other occupant either revering or fearing him. His blue eyes were sharp, almost predatory, scanning the door as if he could will the meeting, to begin with a glance. Around him was an oppressive aura, a barrier that caused his body to hover slightly above his chair. To accommodate this unnatural levitation, his chair had been lowered, though it did nothing to diminish his overwhelming presence. On his hand was a tattoo of a clock, but unlike the others, this one was without hands¡ªa symbol of his unmatched authority. His codename is, The Monarch. Even in a room filled with powerful individuals, he alone held the weight of a king. The council was waiting for him to speak, and when he did, they knew the real discussion would begin.


    Moments after, Frank walked through the door, the tattoo on his hand pointing to eleven o¡¯clock. The room went deathly quiet as every council member noticed something alarming¡ªthe nail that was usually embedded in Frank¡¯s forehead was gone. Instantly, the tension in the air thickened, and several of the members reacted with lethal intent.


    Celeste, who had been resting in her tiny form, suddenly expanded, her body growing until she towered over Frank like a giantess. With one swift motion, her massive hand gripped his head, her eyes narrowing with caution. Simultaneously, Jonathan conjured a sword of thorns, the barbed weapon pulsing with green energy as he rushed toward Frank, aiming for his heart. Lazarus, who had barely been conscious moments ago, had already conjured a spear made from his own blood, its crimson point poised to pierce Frank at any moment.


    ¡°Enough already!¡± Alexander''s voice cut through the chaos like a thunderclap. His authority was absolute, leaving no room for defiance. ¡°I don¡¯t need any more casualties in my ranks. Sit down, you fools.¡±


    The room fell silent. Each of the council members lowered their weapons, grumbling apologies as they took their seats. Frank stood unfazed by the threat, a wry smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.


    ¡°You must have expected this, given your¡­ reputation, Frank,¡± Alexander said, his tone carrying both amusement and danger.


    Frank met his gaze with cold disdain. ¡°I would have only killed them if they actually attacked me. You, on the other hand, I might just kill now¡­ for what you did.¡± His voice was venomous, the hatred unmistakable.


    Alexander leaned back in his chair, unfazed by the threat. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Calm down, Frank. You know you can¡¯t beat me. Now, why don¡¯t you tell me¡ªwhy drop the act? Why reveal that the nail in your head was never real?¡±


    Frank sighed, rubbing the spot where the fake nail had once been. ¡°So you knew all along? Of course, you did.¡±


    ¡°I know everything that happens within my facilities,¡± Alexander replied, his voice cool and unbothered. ¡°Now, sit down.¡±


    Frank glanced around the room, his eyes meeting the glares of the other council members. Some were barely concealing their contempt, others were waiting for any excuse to attack him again. But he simply shrugged and found his seat. The tension remained palpable, the unease shared by all except Alexander, who watched Frank like a predator eyeing prey.


    Suddenly, Harvester¡¯s dull, monotone voice broke the silence. ¡°A danger is coming¡­ Jonathan, brace yourself.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s eyes widened, his relaxed posture stiffening. ¡°W-what are you talking about?¡±


    Before anyone could react further, the door slammed open again, and Markus Valentine stormed in, his eyes ablaze with fury. The air in the room grew thick with murderous intent as he set his gaze on Jonathan.


    ¡°Spatial Sever,¡± Markus growled, his voice trembling with raw power as he slashed his hand through the air.


    Reality itself buckled. The space around the desk warped and shattered, a rift opening with an explosive crack that sent shards of the desk flying in all directions. The table, once sturdy and grand, splintered apart as if it were made of glass, scattering debris across the room.


    ¡°The danger¡­ is here,¡± Harvester intoned, his monotone voice unwavering amid the chaos.


    Jonathan barely had time to react as he stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the full brunt of Markus¡¯ attack. The rest of the council members immediately moved, some preparing to intervene, others watching with interest. The room, once filled with tension, now crackled with the energy of imminent battle.


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    Markus stood at the head of the room, his voice a low growl that carried the weight of absolute certainty. ¡°Sit down, or I will kill each and every one of you¡­ except for my brother.¡± His eyes swept over the council members, daring anyone to defy him.


    No one did. They all knew he wasn¡¯t bluffing. Markus, codename, The Reaper, had earned that title for a reason¡ªhe was a force of nature, a walking death sentence if he chose to be.


    Without a word, the other council members obeyed, though tension lingered like a storm cloud ready to burst. Markus strode over to Jonathan, his every step filled with barely contained fury. Without warning, he slammed his boot onto Jonathan''s chair, stopping just inches from the man¡¯s crotch. The threat was clear, primal, and brutally effective.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a few questions for you,¡± Markus said, his voice low and venomous. ¡°If I don¡¯t like your answers, or if you refuse to answer, I¡¯m going to pulverize your testicles, then chop off your head.¡± His eyes burned with a wrath that promised pain, no hesitation in the threat.


    Jonathan shifted slightly but remained composed, though his face paled under the weight of Markus¡¯ glare.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you. Not after what happened yesterday,¡± Markus continued, the edge of suspicion sharpening his tone. ¡°How is it that the day the Alpha Facility¡¯s two strongest members are out is the day we get attacked? Explain that to me.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s calm demeanor never wavered. ¡°It wasn¡¯t just our facility. Multiple facilities were attacked that same day. How could I have known it would be the worst possible timing for an invasion?¡± he countered, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.


    Markus leaned in, his face inches from Jonathan¡¯s. ¡°You made the schedule. You were at a meeting with the boss. I was at a meeting with Lazarus when normally my brother would be dealing with that vampiric little shit,¡± he said, pointing at Lazarus, who glared but remained silent. ¡°So why send me? Why cripple the facility like that?¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s eyes flickered with frustration. ¡°I¡¯ve been working with Wallace on analyzing something... a blood test that¡¯s been taking longer than expected. I even made sure Eliza would be there to compensate for our absence.¡±


    Markus scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°And they just so happened to send someone with pure hatred for Eliza. Too many coincidences, Jonathan.¡±


    Jonathan sighed, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his voice. ¡°Seeing as Ivan discovered a spy, I¡¯m inclined to agree that there¡¯s more going on here. But it¡¯s not me. So quit your damn paranoia.¡±


    Before Markus could respond, Alexander¡¯s voice cut through the rising tension. ¡°Markus, sit down. And the rest of you¡ªstop trying to kill each other.¡±


    Reluctantly, Markus removed his foot from Jonathan¡¯s chair, the threat hanging in the air like a guillotine yet to drop. He returned to his seat, though his eyes never left Jonathan, suspicion still simmering beneath the surface.


    Then, in a move that took everyone by surprise, the Bookkeeper entered the room. His presence was as sudden as it was unexpected. With a casual snap of his fingers, the shattered table reassembled itself, the splintered wood knitting back together as if the damage had never occurred. He took his seat, not explaining his appearance, though his mere presence spoke volumes.


    The room fell silent, an unspoken tension now laced with intrigue. It was rare for the Bookkeeper to attend these meetings¡ªhis involvement meant something significant was at play. Everyone¡¯s eyes turned toward him, but no one dared speak first. The game, whatever it was, had just shifted in a way none of them had anticipated.


    ¡°Now that everyone is here, and hopefully, you¡¯ve all gotten your energy out,¡± Alexander began, his tone cold and authoritative, ¡°I have some unfortunate news. The eight o¡¯clock chair is now vacant. Jeremiah Oswald was slain by Nikolai yesterday. With both his death and Eliza¡¯s injuries, we now have two open seats on the Council.¡±


    The air in the room seemed to freeze. Shock rippled across their faces, but no one dared voice it. The weight of Alexander¡¯s calm declaration hung over them like a guillotine. Jeremiah¡¯s death was not just a loss¡ªit was a seismic shift in the Council¡¯s power.


    Breaking the silence, Eliza slowly stood, her body stiff from the pain of her recent battles. ¡°Until I can remove the curse preventing my arm from healing, I will step down from the Council,¡± she announced, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed the exhaustion she was trying to hide. The revelation added another layer of tension to the room.


    Alexander¡¯s expression remained unreadable as he continued, ¡°That brings us to our first priority, filling these vacant seats. I would like each of you to propose a candidate for the Council.¡±


    Jonathan was the first to speak. ¡°I would like to request Mia Stone, codename, The Swan,¡± he said, his voice confident. ¡°She assisted in the battle yesterday, holding her own against two powerful Awakened. She even slew one of them. Mia has demonstrated remarkable resistance to madness¡ªsomething invaluable for our ranks.¡±


    Frank leaned back in his chair, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°I would like to propose Ivan Osborne, codename The Lich. His destructive potential¡ªboth in ability and artifact use¡ªfar surpasses even Eliza¡¯s. Unleash his artifact, and he¡¯s on par with an unsealed Markus,¡± Frank stated, his eyes gleaming with ambition.


    Markus, sitting silently until now, let out a small huff of laughter. ¡°Unsealed Markus,¡± he muttered under his breath, clearly amused by the comparison.


    Wallace cleared his throat. ¡°I suggest we keep the seats open for now. We¡¯ve had numerous promising Awakened come through our facilities. Some could be future Council members. Personally, I would like to endorse Iris Blackwell,¡± he said, his voice filled with conviction.


    The Bookkeeper, who had been observing the conversation with his usual calm detachment, spoke up in agreement. ¡°I will second Wallace¡¯s endorsement of Iris Blackwell,¡± he said in a soothing tone that rippled through the room.


    A murmur of surprise passed through the Council. It was rare for the Bookkeeper to align himself so publicly with anyone, and it added an unexpected weight to Wallace¡¯s proposal. Eyes darted from one member to another as they processed the implications.


    Markus leaned forward, his voice a low growl. ¡°If we¡¯re doing that, then I¡¯d like to throw in a student as well¡ªCharles Wells,¡± he said.


    Jonathan raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. ¡°Makes sense. He¡¯s unlikable and aggressive, just like you,¡± he quipped, earning a glare from Markus.


    ¡°I can still make good on that threat,¡± Markus snapped, his eyes narrowing.


    ¡°Then I¡¯d like to change my answer,¡± Frank interjected, his grin widening. ¡°I will endorse Maxwell Lumiar.¡±


    As the Council continued their heated discussions and deliberations, the room¡¯s atmosphere shifted when Harvester, typically reserved and eerily calm, spoke again in his low, monotonous voice, ¡°A danger is coming.¡±


    Before anyone could react, the door to the chamber exploded inward, sending a shockwave through the air. In the entryway stood a figure that commanded immediate attention: Baal Zebub. His twisted grin and confident swagger filled the room with a sense of impending chaos.


    ¡°What a tricky little space this is," Baal began, his voice oozing with amusement. "But once you''ve been here before, it''s surprisingly easy to find your way back.¡± His laugh was chilling, reverberating through the Council''s hall.


    The Bookkeeper, usually composed, furrowed his brow. ¡°How did you breach my library?¡± His voice, though calm, carried a sharpened edge.


    ¡°Oh, it''s quite simple,¡± Baal responded, almost mockingly. ¡°I found a door¡ªany door will do¡ªand devoured the space between it and the connection to your little sanctuary,¡± he explained, his smile widening in delight. ¡°Really, you should lock your doors better.¡±


    Markus raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping across his face. ¡°Not a bad idea, breaking down the space between realities like that.¡±


    The Bookkeeper shot a cold glare in his direction. ¡°Don¡¯t get any ideas,¡± he warned, the icy tone unmistakable.


    Baal, unfazed, strolled casually into the room, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he surveyed the Council members seated around the table. ¡°Quite an intriguing assembly you¡¯ve got here,¡± he mused. ¡°Monsters, gods, demons, immortals, cosmic horrors, living artifacts¡­ and of course a few humans. Truly fascinating.¡±


    The room fell eerily silent, each member exchanging wary glances. Baal''s words pierced deeper than simple observation¡ªhe had exposed the hidden truths that some had worked hard to conceal. Secrets that could unravel trust in this already delicate gathering.


    Baal¡¯s grin widened, relishing the tension. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯d like to make a proposition.¡± He stepped forward, every movement brimming with dark intent. ¡°Help me retrieve my remaining fragments¡ªmy eyes, my fang¡ªand maybe a few of the Sins'' hearts. In return, I¡¯ll join you. Surely the old King of Demons, an ex-god, is worthy of a place on this Council?¡± His tone was dripping with confidence, as if the deal was already sealed.


    Harvester, as always, remained still, his voice cutting through the tension like a whispering blade. ¡°I would like to endorse Baal,¡± he said slowly. ¡°The man I seek to kill has one of your eyes.¡±


    Baal paused, intrigued. His gaze shifted toward Harvester. ¡°I like you,¡± Baal said, his voice tinged with a sinister admiration. But then, without hesitation, he stepped onto the table, looming over Harvester with unsettling ease. ¡°However, I don¡¯t trust anyone who hides their face.¡±


    The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as Baal and Harvester locked eyes, their standoff holding the entire Council captive. It felt as if the very fabric of reality trembled under the weight of their power.


    ¡°Fine, is this better?¡± Harvester said in a low, almost dismissive tone. With a snap of his fingers, the paper bag covering his face vanished.


    The room collectively held its breath. Before them stood a strikingly handsome man, his features sharp and elegant. His long white hair framed a face marred only by the dark bags under his dull, tired azure eyes. His gaze remained fixed on Baal, unwavering.


    A quiet gasp came from Sabrina, her excitement barely contained. ¡°That''s him!¡± she whispered, leaning over to Eliza, her eyes sparkling with recognition. ¡°That''s the handsome man who saved me from my stalker! Oh, how I¡¯ve waited for this day!¡± she added, her voice trembling with joy.


    Eliza, raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡±


    But Baal was less impressed. His eyes narrowed, the playful smirk never leaving his face. ¡°Do you think that cheap, false look would fool me? I can see right through that fa?ade.¡±


    Harvester didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°If you don¡¯t believe me,¡± he said calmly, ¡°then devour my memories.¡± With a simple gesture, a small purple orb of energy materialized in his hand, floating toward Baal.


    Baal¡¯s grin widened, eager to accept the challenge. Without hesitation, he opened his mouth and consumed the orb. A split second later, his head violently exploded, spraying blood and fragments of brain matter across the walls. The shock was palpable. Gasps echoed throughout the chamber as Baal¡¯s lifeless body slumped forward.


    But only for a moment.


    Before anyone could even process what had happened, Baal''s head began to reform. Skin, muscle, and bone knitted themselves back together in a grotesque yet mesmerizing display of regeneration. Moments later, Baal sat upright, entirely whole once more, looking more amused than ever.


    ¡°Woah,¡± Baal chuckled, wiping the blood from his hands. ¡°I devoured so many memories that I died instantly. I had to devour the very concept of death just to survive that. It¡¯s been a while since someone managed to kill me, even for a moment. I couldn¡¯t even begin to process those memories of yours, Harvester. Fine, I¡¯ll side with you, you bastard.¡±


    With a casual flourish, Baal plopped down into Jeremiah Oswald¡¯s old chair, propping his feet up on the table without a care in the world. The room was deathly silent, the sheer audacity of his action sending ripples of shock through the remaining members.


    Alexander¡¯s cold, authoritative voice cut through the silence. ¡°I¡¯ll allow it,¡± he said, his blue eyes narrowing as he took in Baal¡¯s defiant posture. ¡°We¡¯ll keep one slot open, and Baal will take Jeremiah¡¯s old seat. Now that this matter is resolved, we must focus on our next issue¡ªthe coordinated attacks on the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma facilities that occurred yesterday.¡±

 Chapter 44-Debt

    ¡°Since the only survivor from the Gamma facility is now dead, Bookkeeper, please explain what occurred there,¡± Alexander requested, his icy blue eyes locking on the enigmatic figure at the far end of the table.


    The Bookkeeper leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye as he stroked the edge of his cloak. ¡°Will I be compensated for this? I don¡¯t recall attending meetings or giving status reports being part of our agreement,¡± he replied, his tone light, but his intention clear.


    Alexander sighed, already anticipating the negotiation to follow. ¡°What do you want, you greedy bastard?¡±


    The Bookkeeper''s smile widened. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know¡­ how about we keep it simple¡ªan ¡®I owe you¡¯ from you, Alexander.¡± His voice carried an eerie, almost playful undercurrent, like a cat toying with a mouse. The room shifted uneasily at the proposal.


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Alexander shot back. ¡°That¡¯s an incredibly dangerous deal to make.¡± He rubbed his temples, his patience visibly thinning.


    The Bookkeeper chuckled, evidently enjoying the tension. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll settle for something less dramatic. How about you restock the manga section in my library? I¡¯ve run out of new volumes to read. The nonfiction may be infinite, but the fiction section¡ªnow that, is a bit lacking.¡±


    Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable. Fine. Just get on with it.¡±


    The room exhaled as the Bookkeeper began, his usual flair giving way to a more somber tone.


    ¡°The Gamma facility, as many of you know, was a prison housing death row inmates,¡± he explained, his fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air as he spoke, almost as if he were recounting a bedtime story. ¡°It was more than just a prison, though. It served as an experimentation site, where we fused their bodies with alien parasites, augmenting their abilities¡ªcreating monsters that skirt the line between human and something far worse.¡±


    Eyes widened across the table. Even the seasoned members of the Council knew little about what truly happened in Gamma¡¯s deepest chambers.


    ¡°Only two survivors fully mastered their symbiosis with the parasites,¡± the Bookkeeper continued. ¡°The first, as you¡¯re well aware, is Frank.¡± He gestured toward Frank, who grunted but said nothing, his eyes smoldering with a quiet rage. ¡°The second,¡± the Bookkeeper said, his voice lowering, ¡°is an arsonist by the codename Lovecraft. Before the experiments, he had the gift of pyrokinesis. Now, combined with the parasites he controls, he is a walking inferno¡ªa force of pure destruction. And as of yesterday, he is Nikolai¡¯s new ally.¡±


    Alexander¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Nikolai¡¯s new ally?¡± The tension in his voice was palpable. ¡°How much of a threat are we talking about here?¡±


    ¡°Enough to rival Eliza on a good day,¡± the Bookkeeper replied smoothly. ¡°Combine fire manipulation with parasitic control, and you¡¯ve got a man capable of turning entire facilities into smoldering ruins, all while commanding an army of mutated parasites.¡±


    ¡°And the other inmates?¡± Eliza asked, leaning forward despite her weariness.


    The Bookkeeper nodded. ¡°The rest of the prisoners housed there were released. While most of them are mentally unstable, they are still dangerous. Fused with parasites but lacking full control, they are unpredictable and deadly, especially when cornered.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s eyes darkened as she processed the gravity of the situation. She was already nursing the wounds from the previous battle, and now, there was a new threat on the horizon¡ªone they hadn¡¯t prepared for. Her severed arm pulsed in phantom pain, reminding her of her own limits.


    ¡°I see,¡± Alexander said, his voice returning to its cold, calculating tone. ¡°Nikolai¡¯s gathered a new force to replace his losses. And now, we¡¯re dealing with a rogue arsonist with parasites and a pack of deranged prisoners on the loose. This complicates things.¡±


    Baal lounged lazily in Jeremiah¡¯s old seat, an air of smug satisfaction radiating from him as he chuckled under his breath. ¡°This is getting interesting. What a colorful little group we¡¯re up against,¡± he drawled, resting his head on his hand with a gleam of excitement in his sharp, predatory eyes.


    The Council remained tense, their attention focused on The Bookkeeper, who had been providing crucial insights. ¡°While they''ve suffered greater losses than we have, their gains far outweigh ours,¡± The Bookkeeper explained, his tone as measured and enigmatic as ever. ¡°Their recent acquisitions may very well tip the scales in their favor.¡±


    Celeste¡¯s voice cut through the uneasy murmur. ¡°We need to find their base. We can¡¯t keep letting them ambush us.¡±


    The Bookkeeper sighed, adjusting his glasses with a deliberate slowness that set everyone on edge. ¡°Unfortunately, the location of their base is something I am¡­ not allowed to give you.¡±


    The room fell silent, the tension ratcheting up as they processed his words. Markus leaned forward, scowling. ¡°How is that? Before, you were more than willing to feed us information. Now you''re holding back. I¡¯m still pissed about that whole Applecrest debacle. A warning that we¡¯d face Nikolai would¡¯ve been nice.¡± His voice was a low growl, barely containing his fury.


    The Bookkeeper remained unfazed, his expression unreadable. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but going forward, there will be restrictions.¡±


    Eve narrowed her eyes. ¡°Care to explain why? If our one advantage is being choked off, it¡¯s going to make things difficult for us.¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. ¡°That explanation will require payment. If Wallace agrees, I¡¯ll charge you a second ¡®I owe you¡¯¡±


    Wallace groaned, rolling his eyes in frustration. ¡°Yeah, fine. I¡¯m already stuck with you anyway,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Good,¡± the Bookkeeper said, his smile deepening. ¡°You see, anything related to the gods, I am forbidden to reveal. The same goes for any warnings about when the Seven Sins will appear.¡±


    Baal perked up at this, a dark glint in his eyes. ¡°For those curious about the Sins,¡± he began, stretching lazily, ¡°they¡¯re fragments of the original Demon King. If someone manages to combine all seven, the King is revived¡ªor the collector becomes the new Demon King, depending on the circumstances.¡± He grinned, sharp and menacing, enjoying the look of unease that passed over the Council.


    Lazarus, always one to prod deeper, raised a brow. ¡°Is that how you lost your throne as Demon King?¡±


    Baal¡¯s grin widened, though it was tinged with bitterness. ¡°No, no. My successor trapped me in an infinite death loop until I simply gave up. It was¡­ creative.¡± His tone, though light, carried a shadow of old grudges.


    Markus, impatient and clearly still suspicious, pressed on. ¡°So what about the gods is related to Nikolai¡­ and Iris?¡±


    The Bookkeeper tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°Ah, for that, Wallace will owe me two more ¡®I owe you¡¯s.¡¯¡±


    Wallace¡¯s eyes widened in outrage. ¡°What the hell, why me?!¡±


    The Bookkeeper shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. ¡°You agreed to the first. Will you agree to this?¡±


    Wallace clenched his fists, biting back a string of curses. ¡°Fine¡­ asshole,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    The Bookkeeper chuckled softly before continuing. ¡°Well, I refuse to tell you anything about Iris, so you''ll only owe me a third favor. But as for Nikolai¡­¡± He paused dramatically, savoring the tension in the air. ¡°Nikolai has a connection with the God of Death and Disorder¡ªPandora.¡±


    A collective gasp filled the room. The Council had suspected that dark forces were at play, but even they hadn¡¯t anticipated a direct tie to one of the gods.


    Eliza¡¯s brow furrowed as she absorbed the revelation. ¡°Pandora¡­ the God of Death and Disorder,¡± she muttered under her breath. The words felt heavy, like they carried a history she wasn¡¯t ready to confront.


    Baal leaned back in his chair, his dark chuckle reverberating through the room as the tension mounted. ¡°Oh, for those curious, the title of Demon King also comes with the lovely bonus of being the God of the Moon and Madness,¡± he announced, his voice dripping with twisted amusement. His laughter, low and rumbling, sent a palpable shiver through the Council, as if the room itself recoiled at the weight of his words.


    Sabrina, her voice hesitant but filled with curiosity, asked the question on everyone''s mind. ¡°Why would a god be interested in Nikolai?¡±


    Before anyone else could speak, The Bookkeeper, ever opportunistic, chimed in smoothly, ¡°Wallace, that will cost another ¡®I owe you.¡¯¡±


    Wallace groaned, slumping in his chair, his face pale with exasperation. ¡°Please, for the love of all that is sacred, stop asking him questions! I¡¯m drowning in debt here. Fine¡­ I agree, just no more.¡± His tone was defeated, a man worn down by the relentless toll of The Bookkeeper''s deals.


    But instead of an answer, The Bookkeeper smiled mischievously, tilting his head. ¡°Kidding. I refuse to answer that one¡ªnot because I can¡¯t, but because I choose not to.¡±


    Wallace, now thoroughly broken, slammed his forehead onto the table with a resounding thud. He left it there, defeated, muttering something under his breath as the room erupted into a mix of chuckles and awkward silence.


    Jonathan, always pragmatic, turned to Sabrina with a raised brow. ¡°Hey, Sabrina, can¡¯t you just read his mind? That would save us a world of trouble.¡±


    Sabrina, however, merely sighed, a faint, wistful smile on her lips. ¡°I¡¯d love to fulfill your request, but if I tried, I¡¯d cry blood and be driven to the edge of madness,¡± she replied, staring at Jonathan with an unnerving intensity that made him shift uncomfortably.


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    Jonathan recoiled slightly, unnerved by her affectionate gaze. ¡°Please don¡¯t look at me like that. And care to explain why reading his mind would do that?¡±


    Sabrina, looking momentarily serious, nodded. ¡°It¡¯s happened before. When I tried looking into the minds of certain members here, like Harvester, the experience physically hurt me. There¡¯s something in their minds¡ªan incomprehensible depth¡ªthat nearly broke me.¡± Her eyes flicked toward Harvester, who remained silent and still.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve been peeking into our minds, then?¡± Jonathan asked, his tone cold and accusatory.


    ¡°No! No, no, I swear I haven¡¯t!¡± Sabrina protested, her voice pleading as she waved her hands in a panic. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare! I promise!¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s eyes darkened, his expression becoming dangerously cold. ¡°Good. Because if you had, I¡¯d have to kill you.¡±


    Sabrina shivered with excitement, her breath quickening as she whispered to Eliza, ¡°Oh, I love that cold look in his eyes. It¡¯s so¡­ thrilling.¡±


    Eliza, leaning back and rolling her eyes, muttered under her breath, ¡°You have issues. Major, major issues.¡±


    Sabrina just giggled, clearly unfazed by the judgment.


    ¡°I''ve been thinking,¡± Alexander began, his voice calm yet authoritative, ¡°both facilities need greater protection. So, I¡¯m authorizing Markus to have his seals temporarily removed.¡±


    A wave of shock rippled through the Council, eyes widening in disbelief.


    ¡°Wait, sir, you can''t be serious!¡± Lazarus blurted out, his usual composure breaking as the tension surged.


    ¡°He¡¯s right, that¡¯s insane, sir,¡± Celeste added, her tone laced with worry, glancing at Markus, who remained stone-faced but visibly tensed at the mention of his seals.


    Alexander¡¯s gaze swept the room, unyielding in the face of their protests. ¡°You¡¯re right. It would be insane. That¡¯s why only Wallace will be allowed to unseal him. I¡¯ll provide him the key.¡± His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, as if daring anyone to challenge him further.


    A collective sigh of relief escaped the room as the Council exchanged nervous glances. Wallace was known for his restraint, and if anyone could be trusted with such power, it was him. Yet the mere thought of Markus unleashed was enough to unsettle even the most hardened members.


    But before the tension could dissipate, Alexander dropped his second bombshell.


    ¡°However, my other suggestion might scare you all,¡± Alexander continued, leaning back in his chair with unnerving calm. ¡°Frank, I will be providing you with a grade-1 artifact of your choice.¡±


    The room erupted in panic. Fear flashed across the faces of the Council members as their gazes darted between Alexander and Frank, who, for the first time, looked genuinely intrigued.


    ¡°Sir, while my brother is one thing¡ªat least his reckless behavior I can manage¡ªbut this is too much,¡± Wallace protested, his voice tight with concern. Even as the council''s most level-headed member, he couldn¡¯t hide his alarm at the idea of Frank wielding such a powerful artifact.


    ¡°I have to agree,¡± Frank said casually, but with a twisted grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°I fully plan to kill you with it.¡±


    His words sent a chill through the room, the dangerous glint in his eyes making it clear he wasn¡¯t entirely joking. Frank, a volatile force in his own right, being handed something as dangerous as a grade-1 artifact was like giving a match to a pyromaniac in a room full of gasoline.


    Alexander, however, remained unfazed. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s fine. I suggest you choose Mj?lnir¡ªit will work well with your abilities, and with the lightning rods you¡¯ve already constructed.¡±


    The mention of Mj?lnir was enough to send another wave of shock through the room. The legendary hammer, imbued with the power of immense thunder, was an incredibly powerful artifact. And now it would be in Frank¡¯s hands.


    The Council exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to trust their leader¡¯s judgment or fear the chaos that might unfold. Frank simply chuckled, clearly pleased with the suggestion, his fingers twitching as if already feeling the crackle of lightning at his command.


    ¡°Sir,¡± Wallace began again, his voice softer but no less urgent, ¡°are you certain this is the right course of action?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Alexander said firmly, his eyes locking with Wallace¡¯s, as if daring him to object further.


    The room fell silent once more, the tension thick as fog. There was no more room for debate. They all had their orders, and despite their fears, the Council chose to trust their leader. But the unspoken question hung heavy in the air, had Alexander just set something unstoppable in motion?


    The conversation shifted, as Celeste, her brow furrowed, finally voiced the question that had been lingering in the background. ¡°Speaking of Nikolai, I¡¯ve been wondering¡­ why did he ever leave A.E.G.I.S? He was a guaranteed council member¡ªa brilliant agent. With all the empty seats we¡¯ve had, he was an obvious choice.¡±


    The room fell quiet, all eyes turning to Jonathan, who exhaled deeply before responding. ¡°I can answer that. He didn¡¯t trust our bosses¡¯ motives during the Invidia raid. His fianc¨¦e was killed then, and it left him with a lot of unresolved anger and suspicion. I don¡¯t trust our superiors¡¯ motivations from that time either.


    Jonathan¡¯s gaze then turned sharp, locking onto Alexander.


    Alexander met his glare without flinching, his expression calm but cold. ¡°Is there something you wish to say, Jonathan? Or is that why you''ve been going through my files recently?¡±


    The accusation hung in the air like a bomb waiting to detonate. Jonathan¡¯s lips curled into a sneer, his composure fracturing as he leaped onto the table, drawing a of thorn, and rose from the air. The blade pulsed with a dark, crimson energy as he aimed it directly at Alexander, his voice filled with venom.


    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s stop dancing around the issue. How about you explain yourself? You¡¯ve known for a while that I¡¯ve been digging. You¡¯ve had time to come up with excuses. So let¡¯s hear it¡ªstart with Project: Dark Sun. Or should I call it by its other name?¡±


    A ripple of shock passed through the room at the mention of Dark Sun, the tension thickening as every member of the Council shifted uncomfortably. Even Baal, usually detached and amused, sat up slightly, his interest piqued.


    Alexander¡¯s eyes narrowed, his calm facade cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. The room felt like it was teetering on the edge of violence, the weight of Jonathan¡¯s accusation threatening to shatter the fragile equilibrium the Council maintained.


    The room felt like it was holding its breath, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness as Jonathan''s accusation hung heavy in the air. Everyone waited for Alexander''s response, but none expected the cold, measured threat that followed.


    ¡°Would you believe the lie that I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about, and end it here before things get dangerous for you?¡± Alexander¡¯s voice was calm, almost too calm, as if daring Jonathan to push him further.


    Jonathan smirked, unfazed. ¡°Let me jog your memory. It¡¯s the Reaper replacement project.¡±


    Markus shot up from his seat at the mention of this, his eyes wide with shock. ¡°Sir, what is this about?¡± His voice was strained, filled with a mix of confusion and growing alarm.


    But before anyone could react further, a blur of light sliced through the room, cutting clean across Jonathan¡¯s cheek. Blood flowed freely down his face as he staggered back, barely registering the speed of the attack. Alexander hadn¡¯t even moved from his seat, but the message was clear¡ªhe was not to be trifled with.


    ¡°I believe I ordered you to stop this,¡± Alexander''s voice sharpened with authority, his gaze fixed on Jonathan. ¡°So stop it. Now.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s response was immediate. With a defiant roar, he brought his sword of thorn and rose down in a swift, deadly arc aimed straight at Alexander. But the blade shattered on impact as it collided with a shimmering barrier¡ªAlexander¡¯s impenetrable defense. Sparks flew as the force of the strike reverberated through the chamber, the energy between them crackling like a storm ready to break.


    A blinding light began to coalesce in Alexander¡¯s hand, the intensity of it enough to make the others shield their eyes. The air grew thick with the oppressive weight of his power, threatening to tear the room apart. But just as the situation reached its breaking point, The Bookkeeper intervened. With a snap of his fingers, a translucent barrier appeared between the two men, halting the clash.


    ¡°I believe it was your order for them to stop killing each other, sir,¡± The Bookkeeper remarked with a hint of dry amusement, his eyes glinting behind his spectacles.


    Alexander¡¯s light flickered for a moment before dissipating, though the tension in his posture remained. ¡°Fine,¡± he said through gritted teeth, still staring Jonathan down. ¡°If you must know, it¡¯s simply a plan to create someone stronger than Markus. That¡¯s all you need to concern yourself with.¡±


    Markus stiffened at the revelation, the weight of those words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Stronger than him? The thought churned in his mind, but he remained silent, eyes locked on Alexander, searching for answers.


    Jonathan, however, wasn¡¯t finished. His voice, though measured, carried a seething fury as he pressed on. ¡°Fine then, tell me this¡ªwhat is your goal for hunting the sins? What¡¯s the real reason you''ve been hiding from us? What¡¯s the goal you''ve been sending us to die for?¡±


    The question reverberated through the room, the accusation slicing through the Council¡¯s lingering uncertainty. Even Baal, who had been lounging lazily in his chair, sat up slightly, intrigued by the sudden shift in conversation.


    Alexander¡¯s eyes flicked toward Jonathan, a flash of irritation crossing his face. But his voice remained steady as he answered, ¡°The Sins are the cause of the corruption in our world. Slay them all, and the corruption ends. It¡¯s as simple as that. With each Blood Moon, the corruption spreads further, and soon, there won¡¯t be anything left to save.¡±


    Jonathan stared at him, disbelief flashing in his eyes. ¡°You expect us to keep risking our lives, chasing shadows for some vague promise that slaying the Sins will magically fix everything?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way,¡± Alexander replied, his tone cold and resolute. ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of doubt anymore.¡±


    Jonathan clenched his jaw, fists tightening around the remnants of his shattered sword. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, at last, turning on his heel. ¡°Wallace, Markus, let¡¯s go. We have work to do.¡±


    Markus hesitated for a moment, glancing between Jonathan and Alexander before silently following Jonathan out the door. Wallace, however, paused, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he looked back.


    ¡°It seems our meeting is over,¡± The Bookkeeper said smoothly, cutting through the tension. His gaze shifted to Wallace, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. ¡°However, Wallace, I will need you to cash in that favor now. Stay here.¡±


    Wallace groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°Of course you do,¡± he muttered, slumping back into his chair as the others left the room. ¡°I should¡¯ve seen this coming¡­¡±


    The room settled into a thick, oppressive quiet as the other council members filed out, leaving Wallace alone with the weight of the tension that had simmered throughout the meeting. His mind churned with lingering doubts, questions gnawing at the edges of his composure. He let out a breath as the door clicked shut behind the last of them.


    The Bookkeeper moved with a graceful fluidity, gesturing for Wallace to follow him out into the vast, maze-like library. The ancient smell of parchment and ink hung in the air, the towering shelves of books casting long shadows. The library was an endless labyrinth of knowledge, both mundane and forbidden, but tonight it felt more like a cage¡ªone that Wallace was slowly being drawn deeper into.


    The Bookkeeper, ever the cryptic figure, wore a faint smile as he took his usual seat behind an ornately carved desk that seemed as ancient as time itself. Wallace stood before him, his arms crossed, his gaze sharp.


    ¡°So,¡± Wallace began, voice low but with a hint of weariness creeping in, ¡°what is it you want?¡± His tone was measured, but the underlying frustration from the night''s revelations was palpable.


    The Bookkeeper didn¡¯t respond immediately, instead leafing through a small stack of papers, seemingly in no rush. Wallace¡¯s patience was thin, and the pause only heightened his sense of unease. Finally, the Bookkeeper looked up, his eyes twinkling with something unspoken.


    ¡°I want you to bring Iris Blackwell and Alice West here,¡± the Bookkeeper requested, his voice calm but filled with a gravity that set Wallace on edge.


    ¡°Why them?¡± Wallace''s voice was cool, calculated. He wasn''t one to be easily manipulated, especially not by the Bookkeeper, whose motives were always shrouded in layers of riddles.


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s smile widened, a glint of something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. ¡°I have a book for them,¡± he said softly, his voice laced with a sinister undertone that sent a shiver through Wallace. ¡°Don''t worry,¡± he added, almost as an afterthought, ¡°the debt has already been paid.¡±

 Chapter 45-Gods Game

    Wallace¡¯s temper flared, his grip tightening on The Bookkeeper¡¯s collar as he spat, ¡°What the hell do you mean by that? Who the hell would buy a book from you, for two kids?¡±


    The Bookkeeper, unfazed by the sudden aggression, merely smiled with his usual unnerving calm. ¡°I refuse to tell you who paid for Iris. As for Alice¡­ it was her father¡ªher real father.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s face darkened with disbelief. ¡°Her real father? No one knows who that is. She was abandoned on the steps of an orphanage! What kind of man is her real father?¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s eyes glinted with withheld knowledge. ¡°I know who he is, but I refuse to say. Some things, Wallace, are better left secret.¡±


    Wallace seethed, his voice low with frustration. ¡°I''m getting sick of your secrets.¡±


    ¡°And why should I be the only one with secrets?¡± The Bookkeeper''s smile widened, but his tone sharpened like a knife. ¡°You never told Nikolai you were the one who killed his wife.¡±


    The accusation landed like a punch to the gut. Wallace flinched, his grip faltering. ¡°I¡ªI had no choice,¡± he stammered, the old guilt flaring up within him. ¡°She was consumed by madness¡­ there was nothing I could do.¡±


    The Bookkeeper''s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I know. And yet, you chose to hide it. Now, be a good dog and fetch those two girls. I''ll be waiting.¡±


    ¡°Bastard,¡± Wallace muttered as he stormed out, fists clenched.


    The moment he stepped out of the library, he found himself in the lounge, where Iris and Alice were watching cartoons. Some nonsensical show with a talking sea sponge flipping burgers played in the background, a stark contrast to the weight of the moment.


    ¡°I hate that man so much,¡± Wallace mumbled under his breath.


    Iris looked up, her usual bright smile, unbothered by his clear frustration. ¡°Oh, Wallace! How are you feeling after yesterday?¡±


    Wallace let out a weary sigh. ¡°My day¡¯s only getting worse. Come on, I need the two of you. Follow me.¡±


    Alice, ever shy, glanced up from the screen. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°The library,¡± Wallace replied with a hint of reluctance. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s fine as long as you¡¯re with me.¡±


    The door creaked open, revealing the vast, seemingly infinite expanse of The Bookkeeper''s library. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched beyond comprehension, each crammed with books, scrolls, and artifacts, the sheer magnitude of knowledge stored here threatening to overwhelm any visitor. The atmosphere inside was thick, almost alive, as if the library itself was sentient, observing every move they made.


    Wallace stepped in first, followed closely by Iris and Alice. He exhaled, exasperation evident on his face, but the enormity of the place kept him silent. The vastness behind the Bookkeeper¡¯s desk seemed to stretch endlessly, as though time and space were meaningless in this strange domain.


    ¡°Welcome to my library,¡± The Bookkeeper said warmly, his voice rich with a strange sense of foreboding. ¡°I welcome you both.¡±


    Iris¡¯s gaze lingered on him. There was something about The Bookkeeper¡ªhis calmness, his air of control¡ªthat unsettled her. She had long suspected he knew more about her than he let on, secrets she herself hadn¡¯t yet uncovered. But what unnerved her the most was how at ease he was in the face of her uncertainty, as if everything had already been written, and he was simply waiting for her to catch up.


    Suddenly, a flash of movement caught her attention. A purple butterfly, shimmering in the dim light, fluttered into view. Alice''s eyes glazed over, her expression blank as she became entranced by the insect. Without a word, she followed it, her movements slow and dreamlike, as if compelled by an invisible force. She wandered deeper into the recesses of the library, vanishing between towering shelves that seemed to shift and close around her, swallowing her whole.


    Wallace''s alarm was immediate. ¡°Alice!¡± he shouted, but the girl had already disappeared from sight. He turned to The Bookkeeper, his voice laced with frustration. ¡°What are you planning?¡±


    The Bookkeeper chuckled softly, the sound unnervingly calm given the circumstances. ¡°Oh, Wallace, you better go find her. Who knows what dangers lurk within this library? The deeper you go, the more unpredictable it becomes.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s jaw clenched in anger. ¡°You¡¯re the worst,¡± he spat, before sprinting after Alice. The rows of shelves seemed to warp as he ran, bending and twisting like a maze designed to confuse and disorient him.


    With a casual snap of his fingers, The Bookkeeper closed off the back of the library, sealing Wallace¡¯s chase in the distance. The room fell silent once more as he shifted his attention to Iris, his expression one of deep, almost paternal interest.


    ¡°Please,¡± he said, his voice soft yet commanding, ¡°take a seat.¡±


    A plush chair appeared behind Iris, seemingly out of nowhere, its leather soft and inviting. But something about it felt wrong¡ªlike a trap laid in plain sight. Her instincts screamed at her to be cautious, yet there was an undeniable pull. She could feel the weight of destiny closing in, as if sitting in that chair would somehow unravel the very secrets she sought.


    As Iris sat down, her body tensed, and she could feel the weight of the chair beneath her¡ªluxurious, yet somehow suffocating, as though the very fabric of the seat was woven with the threads of her fate. The Bookkeeper¡¯s smile remained ever so enigmatic, his gaze sharp and knowing. The air in the library seemed to thicken, pressing down on her, as if the walls of ancient knowledge were silently watching, waiting for what was to come.


    The Bookkeeper leaned forward, fingers steepled, eyes gleaming with a mysterious light. ¡°Would you like to know why your parents were killed that night?¡± His voice was almost a whisper, yet it echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the countless shelves like the whisper of the universe itself. ¡°All my information will be given free of charge. This is a right only you possess.¡±


    Iris felt a jolt run through her. Her breath caught in her throat as the question she''d been running from her whole life now stood before her, like a monster waiting to be faced. ¡°Tell me,¡± she demanded, her voice shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation. ¡°Tell me what happened that night.¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s expression softened, almost sympathetically, yet his words were as sharp as a knife. ¡°His goal was to kill you,¡± he began, eyes never leaving hers. ¡°That night, and again during the attack on the facility yesterday¡ªhis sole purpose was to end your life.¡±


    Iris''s heart pounded in her chest, the tears welling in her eyes as the enormity of his words hit her like a crashing wave. ¡°Why?¡± she choked, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. ¡°Why me, Fate? Tell me, why?¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s expression never wavered, as though the tears meant nothing to him. His voice remained calm, almost detached. ¡°The three gods of this earth are playing a game, Iris,¡± he explained slowly, like a father revealing a painful truth to his child. ¡°The last apostle left standing will become the true god of this world. And you, Iris, are the champion of Fate¡ªmy champion, the chosen apostle of The Bookkeeper, God of Knowledge and Wealth.¡±


    Her mind reeled, unable to grasp the enormity of what was being said. ¡°W-what?¡± she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°Why me? Why did you choose me? And what do you mean you''re a god? Please, tell me!¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s smile deepened, though it was not warm. It was the smile of someone who knew all too well the cruelty of the truth. ¡°I selected you,¡± he said, voice steady, ¡°because I know you will win. Your task is to eliminate the other apostles. There are two others in this game, and gods from beyond our world, who have each chosen to back a different apostle.¡±


    Iris blinked, struggling to process the information, her head spinning. ¡°Other gods?¡± she asked, her voice trembling. ¡°Who¡­ who are they?¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s eyes darkened as he recited the names with a gravity that chilled her to the bone. ¡°The gods of this earth are as follows, Eden, the Traveler, God of Law and Order; and Pandora, the Avenger, God of Death and Disorder.¡± He paused before continuing. ¡°But there are others¡ªgods not of this world. Aether, the Demon King, God of the Moon and Madness; Helios, the Light, God of the Sun and Rationality; and finally, Ophiuchus, the Cosmos, God of Revolution and Evolution.¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The mere mention of so many divine beings made Iris¡¯s head throb. The weight of it all, the stakes, the roles each of these gods played¡ªit was too much. She felt dizzy, the enormity of the universe bearing down on her like never before.


    ¡°This¡­ this is too much,¡± she muttered, burying her face in her hands, overwhelmed. ¡°How am I supposed to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± the Bookkeeper cut her off, his tone gentle for once. ¡°But you must be prepared. Your enemy already knows who you are. He¡¯s hunting you. I suggest you ally with the apostle of Eden. He¡¯ll make a strong ally, and you¡¯ll meet him soon.¡±


    Iris hesitated, her heart pounding even harder now. ¡°Tell me about the apostles,¡± she said softly, almost afraid of the answer.


    ¡°Pandora¡¯s apostle,¡± the Bookkeeper began, ¡°is Nikolai Dostoevsky. A formidable and seasoned Awakened, dangerous and experienced beyond most.¡± His voice held a grim respect for Nikolai. ¡°Eden¡¯s apostle is Maxwell Lumiar. He is currently in the Beta Facility, and you will meet him soon.¡±


    At the mention of Maxwell¡¯s name, Iris''s cheeks flushed slightly. She remembered the letters from her future self, the cryptic promises of a connection between her and him. She felt a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, but she pushed those feelings down for now. Furthermore, she needed to stay focused.


    ¡°And the others?¡± she asked, her voice trembling again.


    The Bookkeeper''s smile returned, this time more ominous. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t tell you,¡± he said, his voice low and cryptic. ¡°Some things are better left unknown. If you knew who the other apostles were, it would complicate things beyond repair.¡±


    Iris clenched her fists, frustration bubbling within her. ¡°You always keep secrets,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°How am I supposed to win this game when I don¡¯t even know all my enemies?¡±


    The Bookkeeper leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming. ¡°You¡¯ll learn in time, Iris. You have to trust that the truth will reveal itself when it¡¯s needed most. But remember,¡± his voice darkened, ¡°this is a game of survival. Only one apostle will remain in the end. And that must be you.¡±


    The weight of the Bookkeeper¡¯s revelation pressed down on Iris, filling her chest with a suffocating mixture of fear and uncertainty. The enormity of the situation felt like an insurmountable wave, crashing over her¡ªthis cosmic game, with gods, apostles, and worlds in the balance. Her life, and the lives of everyone she cared for, hung on a thread far finer than she had ever imagined.


    Her voice trembled as she broke the silence, yet there was a sharpness in her eyes as she focused on Fate. ¡°Tell me more about the red book,¡± she demanded. ¡°What exactly is it?¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s ever-knowing smile deepened, his tone soothing yet condescending. ¡°It is a book that allows you to call upon the power of your future self,¡± he explained, his words flowing like silk, hiding barbs beneath.


    Iris''s glare intensified, suspicion building in her mind. ¡°What is the cost of the book?¡± she asked, her voice harder now, more insistent. ¡°What must be sacrificed to use that power?¡±


    The Bookkeeper¡¯s smile never faltered. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°If you knew, you wouldn¡¯t use the book. And, my dear, you must use it if you hope to survive. I promise you this¡ªthe book won¡¯t cause you any harm.¡±


    Iris leaned forward, fists clenched, eyes blazing with defiance. ¡°If not me,¡± she pressed, ¡°then who has to pay for it? Tell me! You said it¡¯s my right to obtain any knowledge for free, so give me the truth!¡±


    For a moment, the library seemed to hum with tension, as if the very air was vibrating in response to her demand. Before the Bookkeeper could respond, the heavy silence was broken by the soft creak of a door. The towering bookshelves shifted and parted as Wallace emerged, carrying Alice in his arms. The young girl was asleep, her delicate hands clutching a purple book tightly to her chest.


    Iris¡¯s breath caught in her throat at the sight of Alice, and before she could ask anything, Fate¡¯s voice cut through the moment, calm and detached as ever. ¡°Ah, she found the book that was bought for her,¡± he said, his tone casual, almost amused. ¡°I do hope she likes it.¡±


    Wallace shot the Bookkeeper a withering look, his voice low with restrained anger. ¡°You¡¯re the worst, Bookkeeper.¡±


    Fate merely shrugged, his smile unfazed by the insult. ¡°Well, it looks like we¡¯re done here,¡± he said, standing up and brushing the dust from his robes. ¡°Before you go, I have one more present for you, Iris. Something¡­ for when the time comes.¡±


    As if summoned by his words, a shimmering butterfly, orange and glowing, fluttered down from the endless heights of the library. It landed gently on Iris¡¯s head, transforming into a delicate hair clip¡ªits shape ethereal, yet solid, as though it held a strange, unearthly power.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Iris called out, her frustration boiling over. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question!¡±


    But the Bookkeeper simply smiled, his gaze distant, as though he was already seeing something far beyond the present. ¡°There is no more time, it seems,¡± he said, his voice filled with finality. ¡°Until next time, Iris. Goodbye.¡±


    Iris''s fists clenched in frustration as Fate¡¯s words hung in the air, teasing her with their unfinished answers. The smirk on his face was infuriating, as if he reveled in the power of withholding the truth. She opened her mouth to argue, to demand more, but Wallace placed a firm hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother with him,¡± Wallace muttered, his voice a low grumble. ¡°He¡¯s always impossible.¡±


    As they left the library, Iris couldn''t shake the feeling that Fate''s smile was still watching her, following them even as they walked away. The butterfly hair clip felt heavy on her head, a reminder of the burdens she still didn¡¯t fully understand.


    Behind them, the Bookkeeper remained seated, his smile never fading, the library stretching out infinitely around him. His fingers tapped lightly on his desk, a rhythm only he seemed to understand. ¡°Such an interesting game we¡¯re playing,¡± he whispered to himself as the door closed behind them.


    The Bookkeeper''s library returned to its eerie stillness, but the tension hung in the air, thick and oppressive. The soft, rhythmic tapping of Fate''s fingers on his desk was the only sound that dared disturb the silence¡ªuntil a green door shimmered into existence in the middle of the library. It was a doorway that seemed to come from nowhere, materializing with a soft hum of energy. The door swung open, revealing a figure whose presence was as graceful as it was commanding.


    Eden stepped out, her expression a mixture of irritation and concern as she approached her brother. ¡°You really shouldn''t be so mean to her, brother,¡± she chided softly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of frustration.


    Fate¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver, but there was a sadness behind his eyes that his sister knew all too well. ¡°If she knew the book burns away my memories of those I care for the most, with every use,¡± he began quietly, ¡°she would never use it. She¡¯s kind¡­ too kind to ever let that happen. That¡¯s why she has to be kept in the dark. She¡¯d never sacrifice me otherwise.¡±


    Eden¡¯s eyes darkened as she stood before him, arms crossed. ¡°Why are you so desperate, Fate? Why can''t you ever care about yourself?¡± Her voice was sharper now, tinged with a pleading she couldn''t suppress. ¡°You¡¯re a stupid idiot for always putting others first.¡±


    Fate chuckled, a sound devoid of any real amusement. ¡°I''ll only lose myself,¡± he said with a shrug, ¡°a small price to keep her alive.¡±


    Eden¡¯s face twisted in confusion and anger. She couldn''t understand his obsession, the self-destructive lengths he would go to for this girl. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± she muttered bitterly, her brow furrowed. ¡°What is it about her that makes you throw away everything?¡±


    Fate¡¯s gaze grew distant, his voice soft but sharp as he turned the question back on her. ¡°And what about your candidate, Eden?¡± His words were calm, yet they cut deep. ¡°You¡¯ve spent years watching over the child of a man who didn¡¯t love you back. A man who used you just to meet the woman he truly loved. Why go so far to protect the child born of that betrayal?¡±


    Eden¡¯s breath hitched. Her hand clenched into a fist, shaking as hot tears welled up in her eyes. ¡°Sh-shut up! You don¡¯t know a thing!¡± she yelled, her voice trembling with raw emotion. Fate had struck a nerve, and they both knew it.


    Fate leaned back, his expression softening just enough to show he regretted the harshness of his words. But there was no apology. ¡°You have no right to judge me, sister,¡± he said coldly, his gaze steady as he locked eyes with her.


    Eden¡¯s fury burned hotter, her body trembling with anger and pain. ¡°Maybe I should just ask my apostle to kill yours in an¡­ ¡®accident,¡¯¡± she spat, venom dripping from every word. ¡°They¡¯ll be meeting soon, right? It wouldn¡¯t be too difficult.¡±


    Fate didn¡¯t flinch. He sighed, his voice weary yet composed. ¡°Sure,¡± he said calmly, ¡°but you and I both know that your apostle can¡¯t defeat Pandora¡¯s champion without forming an alliance with mine. They need each other.¡±


    Eden¡¯s anger faltered, but her hatred remained. She bit her lip, knowing her brother was right. ¡°Fine,¡± she hissed, her voice filled with barely controlled rage. ¡°I¡¯ll side with you for now, Fate. But mark my words, when the time comes, I¡¯ll personally enjoy watching your apostle die.¡± Her eyes gleamed with cruel fury as she turned away, stepping back toward the green door that had reappeared as if summoned by her fury.


    As she disappeared through the door, it dissolved into nothingness behind her, leaving Fate alone once more in his infinite library. The silence returned, but it wasn¡¯t peaceful. Fate''s eyes lingered on the spot where Eden had stood, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of his sacrifice pressed down on him more heavily than ever. His fingers stilled their tapping.


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s right,¡± he whispered to himself, a rare moment of doubt creeping into his voice. But then the smile returned, faint but present, as he leaned back in his chair and resumed his silent vigil. ¡°But I¡¯ll lose everything if I let her die.¡±


    Fate''s smile faded, replaced by an icy determination that chilled the air of the library. His eyes, normally distant and calculating, hardened with lethal intent.


    ¡°No matter what,¡± he murmured, his voice like a blade cutting through the stillness, ¡°I can''t let any harm come to her. I''ll kill anyone that gets in my way.¡± He rose from his chair, the faint glow of power rippling beneath his composed exterior. ¡°Whether I must burn the heavens, or slay my own family, they all must die.¡±

 Chapter 46-Liars

    Iris sat in her room, the weight of her recent encounter with Fate still heavy on her mind. Her thoughts spun in a whirl of questions and dread, each one more unsettling than the last. Just as she let out a shaky breath, her attention was pulled to a faint golden glow.


    From the red book on her desk, a flurry of golden butterflies burst into the air, fluttering around her like small fragments of light. Their shimmering wings illuminated the dim room, casting an otherworldly glow. The sight made her heart race¡ªshe knew what this meant. A new letter had appeared, a message from her future self.


    Iris¡¯s hands trembled as she rose from the bed, walking slowly towards the desk where the book lay open. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the pages as the golden butterflies danced and faded into the air.


    The room felt heavier, like the world was holding its breath with her. Steeling herself, she picked up the letter and began to read, her future self¡¯s words inked in a flowing script.


    The familiar tension gripped Iris¡¯s heart as she unfolded the letter, her breath catching in her throat. She read carefully, the weight of her future self''s words pressing into her like a cold hand.


    ¡°If things have unfolded as they did for me, you¡¯ve just spoken with Fate again. By now, you¡¯ve likely heard of the gods'' twisted game. But let me guess¡ªhe didn¡¯t tell you why he¡¯s truly playing. Fate never answers until it¡¯s too late, and even then, his answers are riddles hidden in half-truths. But know this, Iris: you are more important to him than you realize. His silence is not indifference¡ªhe¡¯s protecting you in his own way.¡±


    Iris felt a shiver run down her spine as her eyes scanned the next lines, dreading what came next.


    ¡°Within the coming days, you¡¯ll meet another apostle, Maxwell. Yes, it¡¯s that Maxwell¡ªthe one I mentioned before. I¡¯d like to prepare you for him, but it¡¯s best if you meet him without any preconceived notions. Let your first reaction be genuine, as mine was. But¡­ there¡¯s one thing I must warn you about. In the game, the classes will play. Try your best to win, Iris. I failed, and he would always taunt me for it. He never let me forget that small defeat, and trust me, it¡¯s a game you¡¯ll want to win.¡±


    The butterflies that had illuminated her room just moments ago now felt like faint, fading echoes of hope as her future self¡¯s tone darkened.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else¡ªsomething I couldn¡¯t tell you before. It¡¯s about your classmates. I had hoped to continue my letters to you sooner, but time is cruel, as you know. There¡¯s no easy way to say this, so I won¡¯t soften it, you cannot save Alice.¡±


    Iris¡¯s heart clenched at the words, and her hands tightened around the paper.


    ¡°Her fate is sealed. A few months from now, no matter what you do, she will die. Alice is the one classmate you won¡¯t be able to save. So, please, make her remaining days as joyful as you can. Cherish her. Make her smile while she still can. But when the time comes, you must let her go.¡±


    The final words burned into Iris¡¯s mind, lingering like the echo of a distant storm.


    ¡°¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell.¡±


    Tears blurred her vision, her mind racing. The heaviness of inevitability wrapped itself around her like chains, but one thing was clear, the stakes were higher than ever, and the time she had left to protect those she loved was slipping through her fingers like sand.


    The weight of her future self¡¯s letter still hung heavily in Iris¡¯s mind. Every word echoed in her heart like a cruel verdict, an inevitability she couldn¡¯t accept.


    ¡°W-what, what does she mean by all of this? How is it impossible for me to save her¡­ that¡¯s not fair,¡± Iris whispered, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. The image of Alice¡¯s smiling face flashed in her mind¡ªhow could she be told to let go, to accept that one of her closest friends would die no matter what? It felt wrong, cruel.


    She buried her face in her hands, muffling her sobs as she struggled to come to terms with the words on the page. The room around her felt smaller, the walls closing in as grief wrapped around her like a vice. The golden butterflies from the red book fluttered weakly in the dim light, as if even they couldn¡¯t lift the heaviness of the moment.


    A sudden knock broke through her crying. ¡°Hey, Iris. It¡¯s Charles. Jacob¡¯s dragging us to get ice cream. Wanna come?¡± Charles¡¯s voice was casual, but there was a softness to it, a hint of concern he was trying to mask.


    Iris hastily wiped at her tears, forcing her voice to steady. ¡°N-no, I¡¯m fine. You guys go on without me.¡±


    There was a pause on the other side of the door. Charles, perceptive as always, wasn¡¯t buying it. ¡°Iris... what¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked, his tone more serious now.


    Iris squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her composure. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m fine, really. I¡¯m perfectly fine,¡± she lied, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound normal.


    Another pause. Then, Charles¡¯s voice came, firmer this time. ¡°I¡¯m coming in. Either you open the door, or I¡¯ll use my telekinesis to break it down.¡±


    Iris felt her heart skip a beat. She knew Charles was serious¡ªhe wasn¡¯t one to bluff when he was concerned. Panic rose in her chest as she scrambled to wipe away the remaining tears, taking a deep breath before opening the door.


    ¡°S-see? I¡¯m fine,¡± she said with a forced smile, though her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks betrayed her.


    Charles stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing as he examined her face with the sharpness of someone who saw straight through lies. He didn¡¯t say anything at first, just stared at her, waiting for her to break under his gaze.


    Finally, he sighed. ¡°Iris¡­ tell me the truth. Please.¡±


    ¡°I told you, nothing¡¯s wrong,¡± Iris insisted, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. ¡°You know what, I¡¯ve changed my mind. I¡¯m suddenly in the mood for ice cream. Let¡¯s go.¡± She tried to push past him, eager to leave the suffocating conversation behind.


    Charles muttered under his breath, shaking his head. ¡°What a horrible liar.¡±


    Iris ignored him, walking out of her room and into the hallway, where the others were gathered. She tried her best to act normal, but her mind was still reeling from the letter. The moment she joined them, though, her attention was pulled to a figure she didn¡¯t recognize.


    Standing in the center of the group was a young girl¡ªno older than twelve. Her long black hair was streaked with white, and her green eyes shimmered with an otherworldly brightness. Clutched tightly in her arms was a small teddy bear, worn and faded as if it had been loved for years. Yet, the others were acting like she was just¡­ part of the group.


    Iris frowned, confused. ¡°Um, sorry, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met. Who are you?¡± she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.


    Jacob glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean, Iris? Anya¡¯s been in our class all year. Are you feeling alright?¡±


    Charles looked over too, his brow furrowed. ¡°Yeah, Iris, are you sure nothing¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Iris blinked, her heart skipping a beat. Anya? She stared at the girl, her mind racing. She knew for a fact that this girl had not been in their class yesterday. This girl¡ªAnya, wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. Something was wrong, very wrong.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Iris muttered, forcing a smile. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just still tired from everything that happened yesterday.¡±


    As Iris stole another glance at Anya, her suspicions grew deeper. The girl moved effortlessly within the group, laughing along with jokes and chiming in on conversations as if she¡¯d been part of their circle forever. But Iris¡¯s gut told her otherwise. Anya hadn¡¯t been there the day before, and yet, everyone else acted as though she had¡ªlike a thread woven into the fabric of their lives, invisible until now.


    A chill ran down Iris¡¯s spine. What kind of power could make people forget someone wasn¡¯t real? Or worse¡ªmake them believe she was always here?


    As they walked to the cafeteria for ice cream, Iris paid close attention to the little details. The others laughed and joked, reminiscing about past events. Every story seemed ordinary, but every time Anya was mentioned, Iris¡¯s skin crawled. She knew these stories were real, but Anya wasn¡¯t. She hadn¡¯t been part of them. It was like a script had been rewritten to include her, altering reality itself.


    ¡°What a faker,¡± Iris muttered under her breath, eyes narrowed at Anya.


    Charles, ever the observant one, caught her words. He glanced over at Iris, his face a mixture of curiosity and concern, but he said nothing. His silence spoke volumes¡ªhe knew something was off too, but perhaps he was waiting for more clues before acting.


    As the group gathered around for ice cream, each person selected their favorite flavor: Iris chose strawberry, Alice grabbed vanilla, Jacob went for chocolate, and Charles indulged in cookies and cream. Celia and Theo both opted for cookie dough, and Xavier, with his typical flair, piled on toppings over a simple vanilla scoop. Anya, however, picked mint chocolate chip, a flavor choice that made Iris¡¯s stomach twist for reasons she couldn¡¯t explain. It was as if the choice itself was designed to further cement Anya¡¯s normalcy¡ªand yet, to Iris, it felt like the final stroke in an elaborate, false painting.


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    Iris couldn''t take her eyes off the girl. Anya seemed¡­ perfect. Too perfect. She smiled, laughed, and even fumbled slightly with her ice cream in a way that seemed so natural it felt rehearsed. The surrounding air carried an unsettling quiet, a void that only Iris could feel. It gnawed at her, urging her to dig deeper.


    Who are you really? Iris thought, staring at Anya as the others were distracted by their conversation. What do you want?


    Just then, Wallace appeared, his weary eyes giving away the long day he¡¯d had. He licked at his coffee-flavored ice cream, barely keeping his exhaustion hidden behind a yawn.


    ¡°Oh, hello everyone. Ice cream nights are always fun, huh?¡± Wallace yawned, rubbing the back of his neck.


    Iris stiffened. Even Wallace acted as if Anya was familiar. She stared at him, hoping for any sign of recognition, any hint that he could see the truth. But he, like the others, addressed Anya as though she belonged there. It made no sense. Wallace should¡¯ve been able to see through any deception, but instead, he regarded her with the same casual warmth as the rest of the group.


    Iris felt her heartbeat quicken. If Wallace doesn¡¯t notice anything, then this is deeper than I thought. This isn¡¯t just some trick¡ªit¡¯s like reality itself has been altered.


    She gripped her spoon tightly, staring down at her half-melted strawberry ice cream, her thoughts racing. Someone or something powerful was at play. The more she tried to figure it out, the more questions piled up. Was Anya a spy, some kind of illusion? A weapon sent to infiltrate their group, or worse, an apostle of one of the other gods?


    But why was she the only one who remembered the truth?


    As Anya laughed at something Jacob said, Iris couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she was being watched¡ªno, studied. Anya¡¯s gaze briefly flicked toward her, a cold, fleeting glance that made Iris¡¯s stomach turn.


    Whatever Anya was, she was dangerous. And Iris was determined to find out how deep this deception ran. But one thing was clear, this wasn¡¯t a coincidence. This was part of the cosmic game Fate had warned her about, and somehow, Anya had become a player.


    Iris couldn¡¯t trust her classmates¡¯ memories¡ªor even their perceptions. Anya had woven herself into their lives effortlessly, but Iris knew better. The truth was there, hidden beneath layers of false reality.


    As the conversation flowed around her, Iris¡¯s resolve solidified. She had to uncover the truth about Anya. Something was terribly wrong, and the eerie feeling in her gut only grew stronger. She was going to find out who¡ªor what¡ªAnya was before it was too late.


    Moments later, Markus joined the group, his presence immediately lightening the atmosphere as he approached his brother.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m sorry, what was your name again?¡± Markus asked, his voice casual but laced with an undercurrent of confusion. ¡°I must¡¯ve had too much to drink last night¡­ I can¡¯t even remember their names.¡± He gestured toward Anya, scratching the back of his head.


    Iris''s eyes widened. So, it wasn¡¯t just me, she thought, her heart racing. Markus didn¡¯t remember Anya either. This was her first solid clue that something was deeply amiss, and not just her paranoia playing tricks on her.


    ¡°It¡¯s Anya,¡± Anya replied with a bright, disarming smile. ¡°Everyone¡¯s so forgetful today.¡±


    Iris barely heard Anya¡¯s words; her mind was racing. Markus didn¡¯t know who Anya was, just like her. He had chalked it up to his memory, but there was no way this was a coincidence. Something about Anya¡¯s presence, her very existence, was warping reality.


    What¡¯s the common link between us? Iris thought, her mind scanning every interaction, every clue.


    Before she could delve deeper into her thoughts, Alice approached, her usual timid demeanor amplified by the uncertainty on her face.


    ¡°Um, Iris, Markus¡­ if you don¡¯t mind, can I speak with you two alone?¡± Alice asked, her voice a nervous whisper, glancing at Anya as if she feared being overheard. ¡°There¡¯s something I need to ask you both.¡±


    Intrigued, Iris and Markus exchanged glances before nodding. Alice quietly led them away from the rest of the group, her anxiety palpable as she glanced back at the others¡ªparticularly at Anya¡ªbefore they were out of earshot.


    Once they were alone, Alice finally spoke, her voice low but urgent. ¡°Y-you two don¡¯t remember Anya either, right? Everyone else thinks of her as a friend, but I¡­ I have no idea who she is.¡±


    The words hit Iris like a bolt of lightning. She wasn¡¯t alone in this after all.


    ¡°I knew it! I knew she was suspicious!¡± Iris burst out, her excitement bubbling over. Finally, she had confirmation that Anya¡¯s presence wasn¡¯t just a figment of her imagination. Something¡ªor someone¡ªhad placed this girl in their midst, and only a select few could see through the deception.


    ¡°I see,¡± Markus muttered, rubbing his chin as he pieced the puzzle together. ¡°So we¡¯re dealing with an authority-type ability, aren¡¯t we? It explains why only the three of us can¡¯t remember her.¡±


    Iris turned to Markus, her curiosity piqued. ¡°Authority? You think that¡¯s what this is?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Markus nodded. ¡°Authority-type abilities are rare, but they usually can¡¯t affect other authority users. All three of us possess an authority, which is why we¡¯re unaffected by whatever¡¯s happening to everyone else.¡±


    Alice looked between the two of them, relief mixed with fear. ¡°You really think that¡¯s what¡¯s going on? But how could someone just¡­implant memories like that?¡±


    Markus¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°There''s an authority for most aspects of the world, memories would be no different¡­ I guess that Anya¡ªor whoever¡¯s pulling the strings, has access to this ability. That would explain why everyone else believes she¡¯s always been here, but we don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Authority users of Space, Reality, and Nothing,¡± Markus repeated thoughtfully. ¡°The three of us are the only ones with those abilities within the facility¡­ except maybe the Bookkeeper. If he truly has an authority, that is.¡±


    Markus crossed his arms, thinking aloud. ¡°The Bookkeeper is rumored to have an authority, but we don¡¯t have proof. If he does, it could be possible that he already knows exactly what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Iris bit her lip, her mind racing. ¡°So it¡¯s just us three against¡­ whoever or whatever Anya really is?¡±


    Alice looked nervous, her hands clutching each other as she fidgeted. ¡°What¡­ what should we do? We can¡¯t just confront her. What if she¡¯s dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Eliminating her would be simple enough,¡± Markus continued, his voice cold with calculation, ¡°but it''s smarter to let her be for now. We¡¯ll play the long game¡ªbefriend her, act like nothing¡¯s changed. Observe her, and watch for slip-ups. I¡¯ll let my brother know about this, but under no circumstances do you tell your classmates. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Iris said. ¡°We¡¯ll keep our eyes on her.¡±


    Markus leaned back against the wall, his tone suddenly shifting to something lighter but still sharp with meaning. ¡°If Anya¡¯s going to make a move, she¡¯ll probably do it during the upcoming joint training event. It¡¯s a prime opportunity.¡±


    Alice, who had been listening intently, furrowed her brow. ¡°Joint training event? What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°The Beta facility kids are coming here,¡± Markus explained, a grin creeping onto his face. ¡°Your class will probably be pitted against them in a game of dodgeball, which is usually a spectacle. Charles can manipulate the game with ease thanks to his telekinesis. It¡¯s always amusing to see who comes out on top, though Wallace gets pretty angry when I start placing bets.¡±


    Iris raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wallace seems to get angry at you quite often.¡±


    Markus chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°It¡¯s a gift. People here tend to get riled up around me for some reason. Truly, I¡¯m a misunderstood genius.¡±


    Iris¡¯s mind flashed back to the letter from her future self. She¡¯d warned her that she would be meeting another apostle soon. Could this event be the stage for that meeting? She wondered. Were the Beta facility students involved somehow? If so, who among them could possibly be Maxwell?


    ¡°Can you tell us more about this joint training event?¡± Alice asked, her voice still tinged with apprehension.


    Markus¡¯s grin widened. ¡°You¡¯ll be allowed to use your abilities freely during the competition, which means things can get pretty wild. The Beta facility has a few prodigies, some real powerhouses, but I doubt they¡¯ll be able to stand up to your class. Between Charles¡¯s ability to rig the game and two authority users, I¡¯d say the odds are in your favor.¡±


    Iris¡¯s gaze sharpened, determination burning behind her eyes. ¡°I look forward to it,¡± she said. This event would be her chance¡ªher chance to uncover Anya¡¯s true nature, and perhaps even face the enigmatic Maxwell.


    Markus gave a casual nod, but there was something unreadable in his expression, something more calculating than his easy smile suggested. ¡°Just stay sharp,¡± he added. ¡°Things are about to get¡­ interesting.¡±


    Later that night, as Iris lay in bed, still mulling over everything Markus had said, the surrounding air stirred with a sudden, intense heat. Without warning, a burst of orange flames erupted from the red book on her desk. From within the blaze, a swarm of butterflies made entirely of fire materialized, fluttering toward her before disintegrating into embers.


    Her heart raced. Another letter from her future self. She quickly sat up and snatched the letter from the ashes, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the paper, bracing herself for what it might reveal.


    The words stared back at her, as if daring her to read them.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming by now you¡¯ve encountered the snake who goes by the name Anya. You were right to be suspicious. She is the daughter of the man responsible for our parents¡¯ deaths¡ªNikolai Dostoevsky, Pandora¡¯s apostle. But don¡¯t lose focus. Anya isn¡¯t here for you,her target is Maxwell. Her vendetta against him runs deep, though I never uncovered why. In my timeline, her efforts amounted to little. She¡¯s dangerous, yes, but she won¡¯t be your downfall¡ªkeep her in your sights, but don¡¯t lose sleep over her.¡±


    ¡°As for your classmates, it¡¯s time I tell you about the siblings. They survived longer than any of the others, all the way to the final battle. Their loyalty to one another is ironclad, but there is a darkness between them and Charles, a bitterness that grew into something more deadly. In my time, I believe they were responsible for his death.¡±


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. Why? While I have my theories, I never found out why. It happened during a raid, it was a horrible raid against a certain cult within Japan. That event is years away for you¡ªtoo far to worry about now, but when the time comes, be ready. If you can, try to prevent the same tragedy from unfolding. Charles¡¯s fate shouldn¡¯t be written in stone.¡±


    ¡°I wish I had known then what I know now, but you still have a chance to change things.¡±


    ¡°¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell.¡±


    Iris clenched the letter tightly, her knuckles turning white as tears welled up in her eyes. ¡°Why¡­ why did so many terrible things happen to everyone around me in the future? It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s too unfair,¡± she whispered, her voice trembling, as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to break free, but the pain of knowing what lay ahead was overwhelming. For the first time, she felt utterly powerless against the cruel hand of fate.

 Chapter 47-Charles Resolve

    Iris sat in her room, tears silently streaming down her face. The weight of the future pressed on her chest, a suffocating burden she could never share. She couldn¡¯t confide in anyone about the horrors her future self had revealed, couldn¡¯t let anyone see her cry. The isolation gnawed at her, deepening the sense of helplessness that clung to her every thought. She was trapped in a cage of fate, forced to carry the knowledge of what was to come¡ªalone.


    Each day at school blurred into the next, a haunting monotony that mirrored the growing darkness within her. Anya had seamlessly integrated into the class, like a shadow that had always been there. To everyone else, she was just another friend, a familiar face woven into their lives. But to Iris, she was a constant reminder of something sinister, an invader in their midst. The more Iris tried to ignore it, the heavier the weight became, suffocating her spirit, and draining her of joy.


    In the gym, Iris channeled her frustration into training. Her flames manifested as a bow, an arrow of fire drawn taut as she aimed at the distant targets. Each shot flew with precision, striking its mark, but the motion was mechanical, lifeless. Her eyes, normally fierce with determination, were dull¡ªhollow. She fired again, the crackle of her flames filling the empty space around her, but no matter how many arrows she loosed, it did nothing to lighten the oppressive weight crushing her soul.


    She felt numb, the exhaustion from carrying the knowledge of her future leaving her almost empty inside. The gym echoed with the steady rhythm of her practice, her mind far away, lost in thoughts of what was coming¡ªof the deaths she couldn¡¯t prevent.


    Unbeknownst to her, Charles had quietly entered the gym. He leaned against the door frame, watching her with a growing sense of concern. He could see it¡ªthe way her shoulders sagged, the vacant look in her eyes, the way her usually vibrant flames lacked their usual intensity. Something was wrong, deeply wrong, and it wasn¡¯t something she was willing to share.


    He had hoped that, eventually, she would open up to him. But as he stood there, watching her fire arrow after arrow into the targets without so much as a flicker of emotion, he realized that Iris was slipping further and further away.


    Charles'' voice cut through the steady rhythm of Iris'' arrows, but she ignored him, her focus numb and detached, not even realizing that she was hitting the blank wall where the targets once stood.


    ¡°Iris, tell me what''s wrong¡ªno dodging the question this time. Just tell me,¡± Charles urged, stepping closer, his concern rising with every second of her silence.


    Iris, her gaze distant, continued to shoot her fiery arrows, the flicker of flames striking against the destroyed targets as if on autopilot. She hadn¡¯t even noticed the damage she''d already done, the targets obliterated, nothing left to aim for. Yet she kept going, her body moving through the motions like a broken machine.


    ¡°Iris!¡± Charles shouted, louder this time, his voice cracking with frustration as he stormed over, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. ¡°Please, just tell me what''s wrong.¡±


    Iris blinked, startled, but her expression remained hollow. ¡°I¡¯m fine. There¡¯s no¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say it,¡± Charles interrupted, his voice laced with anger. ¡°I hate that stupid lie. Stop pretending everything¡¯s alright!¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m fine. Stop asking,¡± Iris repeated, her voice flat, her eyes avoiding his.


    Charles'' patience snapped. ¡°Telekinesis!¡± he shouted, his aura igniting in response, enveloping objects around the gym. Balls, shattered pieces of targets, gym equipment¡ªeverything in reach suddenly hovered around him.


    ¡°W-what are you doing?¡± Iris asked, her voice wavering as she backed away, startled by his sudden outburst.


    ¡°Either knock me out or answer my questions!¡± Charles demanded, his eyes fierce with determination as he began flinging objects at her. She dodged, reflexively igniting her flames to deflect the debris, but she still wouldn¡¯t fight back.


    The surrounding air crackled with energy as Charles continued to hurl objects her way¡ªfootballs, basketballs, shattered wood, anything he could control. Yet despite the chaos, Iris stayed on the defensive, refusing to retaliate, her flames lashing out only to protect herself.


    ¡°You told me I couldn¡¯t hold onto my anger, so why?¡± Charles shouted, his voice straining with emotion as more objects hurtled toward her. ¡°Why are you holding onto your sadness?!¡±


    Iris faltered, his words hitting her harder than any of the objects flying at her. The surrounding flames weakened for a brief moment as her heart twisted painfully inside her chest. Charles wasn¡¯t angry just for the sake of it¡ªhe was angry because he cared. He could see through the mask she wore, and he wasn¡¯t going to let her keep lying to herself.


    ¡°Stop pushing me away, Iris! You don''t have to do this alone!¡± Charles yelled, his aura intensifying as more objects began to spin wildly around them.


    Iris clenched her fists, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to scream, to shout, to let it all out¡ªbut the fear, the weight of knowing the future, and the terror of being helpless made her bite down the words. Tears stung her eyes, and for a moment, her flames flickered like they were about to go out.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± she whispered, barely audible. ¡°I can''t tell you¡­ It''s too much¡­¡±


    Iris clenched her fists, her eyes narrowing as the flicker in them ignited into something much fiercer. Charles¡¯ words hung in the air, and for a moment, her breath hitched. She had kept everything bottled up, pretending it didn¡¯t hurt¡ªpretending she could handle it alone. But now, her emotions swirled like a raging inferno, and she could no longer hold it back.


    ¡°Then fight back, Iris,¡± Charles challenged, his telekinetic aura flaring around him, objects trembling as they floated back into position. ¡°This won¡¯t end until either you tell me what¡¯s wrong, or one of us is in Wallace¡¯s office.¡±


    Iris snapped. Her flames burst to life around her, bright and furious, licking the edges of her skin with an intensity that matched her emotions. Without thinking, she summoned her power, condensing flames into her hands. ¡°Fine! You want me to fight?!¡±


    Her fiery aura surged, hotter and more dangerous than before, and with a swift motion, she hurled a blazing arrow straight at Charles. He barely had time to react, raising his telekinetic shield to block the attack. But instead of dissipating, the flames clung to his aura, burning through it.


    Charles grunted in surprise, stumbling back as her fire scorched through his protective barrier. ¡°What the¡ª? Your flames are¡ª¡±


    ¡°Burning through your ability?!¡± Iris finished, her voice rising with her fury. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not holding back anymore!¡±


    She launched another flame, this time a concentrated burst of fire, crackling with a searing intensity. Charles raised his hands, telekinesis flickering, trying to hold it off. But her fire wasn¡¯t just heat¡ªit was emotion, the weight of everything Iris had been bottling up, her sadness, her anger, her helplessness. It crashed into his aura like a tidal wave, and he felt his telekinesis falter under the sheer force of it.


    ¡°Iris, calm down!¡± he shouted, but there was no stopping her now.


    ¡°I won''t stop!¡± she screamed, flames erupting around her as she advanced on him. ¡°You don¡¯t understand! You have no idea what it¡¯s like to know all this¡ª¡± Another fiery arrow flew from her hand, piercing through Charles¡¯ defenses and forcing him to dodge. ¡°¡ªand not be able to tell anyone! To carry it all alone!¡±


    Charles stumbled back, panting as he struggled to maintain his telekinetic barrier. ¡°Then tell me, Iris! You don¡¯t have to fight this alone¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am alone!¡± Iris shouted, her flames flaring even hotter, burning through the objects he tried to throw her way. With each flame that tore through his telekinesis, her power grew more intense, her control slipping further into raw emotion. ¡°I have to be! If you knew the fu¡ª¡± Her voice cracked, but her flames didn¡¯t falter. ¡°You wouldn''t understand¡­¡±


    Charles, breathing heavily, realized that this wasn¡¯t just a fight. Iris wasn¡¯t battling him¡ªshe was battling herself. Her flames weren¡¯t just power; they were her way of trying to burn away the pain, the helplessness that had consumed her.


    ¡°Iris, you¡¯re not alone,¡± he said, softer now, but still firm. ¡°You¡¯ve never been alone. We¡¯re all here for you. I¡¯m here for you.¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± she screamed, her voice raw with emotion as her flames surged, erupting from her hands in an uncontrollable burst. The surrounding air crackled with heat, the flames licking the gym walls, spreading like wildfire. Charles braced himself, his telekinetic aura barely holding as the sheer force of her power slammed into him.


    ¡°Iris! Stop!¡± Charles shouted, but the roaring inferno drowned out his voice. His telekinesis flickered, strained under the pressure, as he tried to hold back the wall of fire that now threatened to engulf the entire gym.


    Iris stood in the center of the flames, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions. Her eyes glowed brighter, the fire reflecting her inner turmoil. She had lost control, and now the flames had a will of their own, fueled by her anguish.


    The flames danced wildly, spreading across the floor, scorching everything in their path. The gym equipment caught fire, the walls blackening as the heat intensified. Iris¡¯s flames weren¡¯t just destructive¡ªthey were alive, reacting to her pain, growing stronger as her emotions spiraled further out of control.


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    Charles struggled to maintain his telekinetic barrier, sweat pouring down his face as the flames pressed against him. ¡°Iris, you have to stop! You¡¯re going to burn everything!¡± he yelled, his voice desperate. But Iris couldn¡¯t hear him. The flames roared louder, drowning out everything else.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡± she gasped, her voice breaking as the fire swirled around her like a living entity. ¡°I can¡¯t stop it!¡±


    The flames shot upward, scorching the ceiling, the heat warping the surrounding air. Charles knew if he didn¡¯t act fast, the entire gym could go up in flames. He pushed his telekinesis harder, trying to create a protective dome around the two of them, but the fire kept eating away at it, inch by inch.


    ¡°Iris, focus!¡± Charles shouted, stepping closer to her despite the intense heat. ¡°You¡¯re stronger than this! You can control it!¡±


    But Iris¡¯s mind was fractured, overwhelmed by everything she had been holding back. The pain, the fear, the helplessness¡ªit was all too much. Her flames reflected that chaos, growing wilder, fiercer. The gym was a sea of fire now, the smoke thick in the air as her power consumed everything around her.


    Charles, struggling to maintain his focus, felt his barrier weaken further. The flames were too strong, too intense, and he was running out of time. He had no choice. He had to get through to her before it was too late.


    Using the last of his strength, Charles flung himself toward Iris, breaking through the flames that surrounded her. He grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm despite the burning heat. ¡°Iris! Listen to me!¡± he yelled, his voice cutting through the roar of the fire.


    She blinked, her glowing eyes meeting his for the briefest moment.


    ¡°You are stronger than your power! You control it¡ªnot the other way around!¡± Charles yelled, shaking her as the flames swirled around them, threatening to close in. ¡°I know it hurts, I know you''re scared¡ªbut you can''t let this destroy you!¡±


    Iris¡¯s body trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to wrestle control of her power. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the fire slipping further from her grasp. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    ¡°Yes, you can!¡± Charles insisted, his voice fierce. ¡°I¡¯m right here, Iris! I believe in you!¡±


    For a moment, something inside Iris shifted. The flames flickered, hesitating for just a second, as if responding to Charles¡¯s words. She took a shaky breath, focusing on that glimmer of control. Slowly, she pulled her flames back, drawing them toward her, containing the chaos.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough. The fire was too strong, and it resisted her efforts, fighting to break free. The walls were starting to crumble, the ceiling cracking from the heat.


    ¡°Iris, please! You have to stop this before it¡¯s too late!¡± Charles shouted, desperation lacing his voice as he tightened his grip on her shoulders.


    Iris squeezed her eyes shut, her body shaking as she fought against the flames. ¡°D-do you really think I can do it?¡± she cried, tears mixing with the sweat on her face.


    ¡°Of course I do, you dummy,¡± Charles replied, a reassuring smile spreading across her face.


    Her breathing slowed, and for the first time, Iris felt something shift inside her. The flames responded to her will, their intensity lessening ever so slightly. She focused harder, pouring every bit of herself into regaining control.


    The flames shrank, pulling back from the walls and floor, receding toward her like a tide retreating from the shore. It was slow, agonizingly slow, but they were obeying her.


    ¡°Iris, you¡¯re doing it!¡± Charles encouraged, his voice steady now.


    With a final surge of effort, Iris pulled the flames into herself, condensing the fire until it was nothing more than a faint glow around her body. The heat in the gym faded, the air cooling as the last of the fire disappeared.


    Iris collapsed to her knees, panting, her body trembling from the exertion of controlling the flames. Charles knelt beside her, his chest heaving from the struggle but filled with relief. He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.


    ¡°You did it, Iris,¡± he said softly, his voice full of warmth and understanding.


    Iris didn¡¯t answer at first, still trying to catch her breath, her mind swirling with exhaustion and lingering fear. The echoes of her fire seemed to burn in her veins, reminding her how close she had come to losing control entirely.


    Charles¡¯s grip tightened slightly. ¡°Whatever¡¯s going on, Iris¡­ I¡¯ll be here for you. No matter what. You don¡¯t have to carry this alone. Just like I know I can count on you when I need help.¡±


    Iris felt the sincerity in his words, but the weight of everything still pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. ¡°Let¡¯s just get out of here,¡± she whispered, her voice hoarse. ¡°Before someone comes.¡±


    Charles nodded, pulling her to her feet. ¡°Yeah, we should probably leave before anyone notices the inferno,¡± he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Hand in hand, they hurried out of the gym, leaving the charred remains of their training session behind them.


    They made their way to the lounge¡ªthe same one they had trashed a week or two ago and somehow managed to avoid getting caught for. Iris couldn¡¯t help but laugh as the memory surfaced.


    ¡°We really need to stop destroying rooms here,¡± Iris said, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness inside her.


    ¡°Nah, where¡¯s the fun in that?¡± Charles grinned, dropping onto the couch. ¡°But seriously, Iris¡­ stop being a dummy and talk to me.¡±


    Iris sighed, her smile fading as reality came crashing back. ¡°Fine¡­ but you might want to sit down for this.¡±


    Charles raised an eyebrow, still trying to keep things light. ¡°How bad could it be?¡±


    Iris met his eyes, her face serious. ¡°I know the future,¡± she said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°And in that future¡­ everyone in our class dies.¡±


    Charles blinked, his grin fading instantly. He stared at her, his mind struggling to process the weight of her words. ¡°What?¡± he asked, his voice barely audible. He swallowed hard, forcing a laugh, though it sounded hollow. ¡°You were right¡­ I should sit down for this.¡±


    He sank into a nearby chair, his legs weak as the magnitude of what she said hit him. Iris sat across from him, her hands trembling in her lap, the room falling into a heavy silence.


    ¡°Charles¡­ I¡¯ve been getting these letters from my future self. Letters that¡­ explain everything. Everything that¡¯s going to happen. And it¡¯s bad. It¡¯s awful,¡± Iris continued, her voice shaking.


    Charles stared at her, his expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and shock. ¡°Letters? From the future?¡± he repeated, trying to wrap his mind around it.


    Iris nodded. ¡°Yeah¡­ letters warning me about what¡¯s coming. And in that future, everyone in our class dies. Everyone, Charles. And I¡¯ve been trying to find a way to change it, but I¡ªI don¡¯t know if I can.¡±


    Charles leaned forward, his face pale. ¡°That can¡¯t be true¡­ there¡¯s no way. There has to be something we can do to stop it, right?¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± Iris whispered. ¡°But it¡¯s not just the deaths. It¡¯s everything leading up to it. The lies, the betrayals¡­ the things that are going to happen to us. To all of us.¡±


    Charles ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me earlier? Why have you been carrying this all on your own?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t, Charles. I can¡¯t just tell people about the future like that. It would change everything. And honestly, I didn¡¯t know how to handle it. I still don¡¯t,¡± Iris admitted, her voice cracking.


    Charles¡¯s eyes softened, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. ¡°Iris, you don¡¯t have to figure this out alone. We¡¯ll find a way to change it. Whatever happens¡­ we¡¯ll face it together. I swear it.¡±


    Iris looked at him, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. ¡°But what if we can¡¯t change it? What if everything I do just leads to the same ending?"


    Charles squeezed her hand tighter, his gaze unwavering. ¡°Then we¡¯ll fight to the very end. We¡¯re not going down without a fight. I don¡¯t care what the future says. We make our own fate.¡±


    Iris wanted to believe him, to hold on to the hope in his words, but the future she had seen was filled with nothing but loss and pain. Still, the warmth of Charles¡¯s hand in hers gave her a sliver of strength.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she whispered. ¡°We¡¯ll fight. Together.¡±


    For the first time in days, Iris felt like there was a glimmer of hope, a chance they might defy the future looming over them. But deep down, she understood that the battles ahead wouldn¡¯t just test their strength¡ªthey would test their hearts, their loyalty, and their very souls.


    ¡°Tell me what your future self has told you,¡± Charles asked, his voice steady, though there was an intensity in his eyes that betrayed his concern.


    Iris hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. But after everything they¡¯d just been through, she knew Charles deserved to know as much as she could tell him. So she began to recount the details¡ªthe warnings from her future self, the fates of their classmates, the looming dangers, though she carefully omitted the parts about the romantic things her future self had said, as well as the exact details of Charles¡¯s eventual death. Instead, she focused on the key wishes of their classmates and the broader threats ahead.


    Charles listened intently, his expression growing darker with every word.


    ¡°So Alice is the first we need to worry about,¡± he said once she finished. ¡°While it sounds like the rest of us aren¡¯t in immediate danger until we¡¯re official agents, the clock is ticking for her. We need to keep her safe.¡± He paused, then added with a teasing smirk, ¡°No offense, but your future self isn¡¯t exactly helpful. They¡¯re hiding a lot of details. Guess some things never change.¡±


    Iris managed a small laugh, though the weight of it all still pressed on her. ¡°The first letter said they made a deal with a devil. Maybe the devil is only allowing them to reveal things in small pieces. It feels like a game to that devil¡ªlike they¡¯re just toying with me.¡±


    Charles leaned back, frowning in thought. ¡°I can believe that. Devils are known for toying with humans. But we¡¯ll beat them at their game. Is there anything else that stands out? Anything more suspicious?¡±


    Iris¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Anya. She¡¯s not a real member of our class. Everyone¡¯s memories were altered to think she was. The only ones who weren¡¯t affected are Markus, Alice, and me.¡±


    Charles¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°I see. That explains why Markus didn¡¯t remember her at first. I¡¯ll help keep an eye on her. While it¡¯s hard to argue with my own memories¡­ I trust you fully.¡±


    His words hit Iris with a warmth she hadn¡¯t expected. Despite everything¡ªthe chaos, the fear, the uncertainty¡ªCharles¡¯s unwavering trust made her feel lighter, as if she wasn¡¯t carrying this burden entirely on her own anymore.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Iris said, her voice soft as a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips.


    Charles grinned, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he looked at her. ¡°We¡¯re in this together, Iris. No more going through this alone.¡±


    Iris nodded, feeling the flicker of something she hadn¡¯t felt in a long time¡ªhope. But as they sat there in the quiet of the lounge, the weight of what was coming loomed over them both. They had a fragile future to rewrite, enemies lurking in the shadows, and memories that could betray them at any moment.


    And though they were ready to face it together, Iris knew in her heart that the worst was yet to come.

 Chapter 48-Preparations

    A few days later, Ivan gathered his students in the gymnasium, the hollow sound of his skeletal feet tapping the floor as he moved. He sat upon his familiar coffin, its dark, imposing presence matching the unsettling calmness of his bare bones, no longer concealed by his usual false skin. The attack on the facility had thrown everything into chaos, and classes had been canceled for a brief time, but now they were back, and the weight of upcoming events hung heavy in the air.


    He let his empty gaze fall over each of them, his hollow eye sockets giving the impression that he could see far beyond the physical, as though he were staring into their very souls. When he spoke, his voice was unnervingly calm, the rattle of death behind every word.


    ¡°While our schedule has been thrown off, in a few days, we will resume with the joint training event alongside the students from the Alpha Facility,¡± Ivan said, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet gym. ¡°There will be a small competition between your class and theirs. To be frank, the first-year Beta Facility students never win.¡±


    Maxwell, sitting near the back with his arms crossed, scowled. ¡°Why''s that?¡± he asked, his tone sharp with irritation.


    Ivan''s skeletal face tilted slightly, as though amused by the question. ¡°It¡¯s because the game typically favors long-range abilities. The Alpha Facility students tend to excel in that area. Your class, however, is more specialized in close-range combat. That, coupled with the fact that Alpha students begin at a higher power level, makes it¡­ difficult for you to win.¡±


    As the weight of his words settled over the room, a ripple of frustration passed through the students. Their pride stung at the implication that they were somehow lesser.


    ¡°That''s annoying,¡± Ashe muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I want to win.¡±


    Ivan''s bony fingers tapped against the side of his coffin, a faint, hollow sound. ¡°I said difficult,¡± he corrected with a sinister chuckle, ¡°not impossible. This class is¡­ different. Interesting. I fully expect you all to surprise them.¡±


    Despite Ivan''s grim tone, a quiet confidence grew in the room. His words carried an air of dark encouragement, a twisted belief that, against all odds, they could rise to the challenge. They weren¡¯t just ordinary students¡ªthey were Ivan''s students, and that made all the difference.


    The atmosphere in the gym shifted. There was a shared understanding now, an unspoken resolve. Winning wouldn¡¯t be easy, but the way Ivan spoke made them believe it could be done.


    Ivan¡¯s hollow, echoing laughter filled the gym as he announced the day¡¯s task. ¡°Today¡¯s training will be simple,¡± he said, a hint of dark amusement in his voice. ¡°Dodge. Avoid getting hit for at least an hour.¡± His skeletal fingers twitched, and suddenly, countless spectral hands erupted from the surrounding ground, each one clutching a dodgeball.


    The class exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes widening in disbelief as the hands multiplied, lining the gymnasium like an army ready to strike.


    ¡°Anyone who manages to hit me with a ball gets to go home early,¡± Ivan continued, a wicked grin seemingly forming in the tone of his voice. ¡°However, anyone who gets hit¡­ well, let''s just say you''ll definitely feel it. Oh, and don¡¯t worry¡ªdestroying the balls is permitted. I encourage creativity.¡±


    Without warning, the dodgeballs were launched at breakneck speed. The air howled with the force of each throw, the balls moving faster than anyone had expected.


    Ashe was the first to react, his blood manipulation swirling around him in an instant. Crimson blades materialized in his hands, slicing through the oncoming balls with precision. Each ball he cut through disintegrated midair, but the speed and frequency of the attacks pushed him to his limits.


    Maxwell smirked, his hypercognition kicking in. To him, the balls moved in slow motion. He sidestepped each one effortlessly, his movements fluid and almost lazy, as if the entire ordeal was beneath him.


    Noah, blind but far from helpless, danced through the barrage of dodgeballs. His body moved with an eerie grace, his other senses heightened to the point that he seemed to anticipate each throw before it even happened. Not a single ball touched him as he glided across the gym, a ghost within the storm.


    Cynthia, weaving her fingers through the air, spun webs of sticky silk, trying to catch and redirect the balls back at Ivan. But Ivan was no ordinary opponent. He dodged each return throw with ease, his skeletal form bending and twisting in unnatural ways, making it impossible for her to land a hit.


    Rook growled in frustration, his arms morphing into writhing tentacles. He snatched dodgeballs from the air, catching several at once. But as his confidence grew, so did the assault. Too many dodgeballs came at him at once. He was overwhelmed, and just as he caught one, another smashed into his leg, sending him stumbling to the ground.


    On the other side of the gym, Sarah was hit squarely in the shoulder, the impact bouncing the ball straight into her twin sister Emily''s head. The twins yelped in unison, falling back as another ball hurtled their way. Ivan¡¯s laughter rang through the gym once more, his skeletal hands merciless as they continued their onslaught.


    ¡°Come on, children,¡± Ivan taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "I expected more from you. Surely, one of you can hit me. Or are you all content with simply surviving?"


    The class, battered but determined, began to regroup. This wasn¡¯t just a test of their reflexes¡ªit was a test of their strategy, their willpower. Ivan was pushing them, testing their limits, and somewhere beneath the playful cruelty of his voice, there was a lesson.


    But the dodgeballs kept coming. Faster. Harder. Unrelenting.


    ¡°Show me something new,¡± Ivan said, his skeletal grin widening as the class scrambled under the pressure, their powers pushed to the brink. The gym had become a battlefield, each student fighting to prove that they wouldn¡¯t be so easily broken.


    Ashe sprinted toward Ivan, the hammer of blood in his hands gleaming with dark crimson energy. His intent was clear: brute force. With a powerful swing, he aimed for Ivan''s skeletal frame.


    But Ivan, ever calm, raised his own weapon¡ªthis one a hammer made entirely of bone. The two weapons clashed with a resounding crack, blood and bone reverberating against each other. Sparks of energy flickered from the impact.


    ¡°To win, you need to hit me with a dodgeball, not an attack,¡± Ivan reminded him, his voice smooth, as if they were discussing the weather.


    Ashe smirked, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Maybe, but this isn¡¯t against the rules, is it?¡± he shot back.


    Ivan tilted his head, considering it. ¡°No, it is not. I encourage the creativity. Just be careful.¡±


    Suddenly, the ground beneath Ashe rumbled as dozens of dodgeballs, carried by Ivan''s spectral hands, flew at him with insane speed. For anyone else, the barrage would have been impossible to counter. But Ashe''s eyes glowed an eerie, vibrant blue. In an instant, he vanished, disappearing from the fabric of time itself. The dodgeballs sailed harmlessly through empty air where he had been just a heartbeat before.


    When Ashe reappeared fifteen seconds later, all the dodgeballs that had been aimed at him were obliterated, and reduced to shreds. His presence rippled through the gymnasium, as if time had folded around him, his brief absence warping reality itself.


    Ivan¡¯s sockets flared with an unsettling light. ¡°His use of the worm of time¡­ it¡¯s almost like an authority-type ability,¡± he mused to himself, watching Ashe with interest. ¡°He¡¯s both paused time for others and separated himself from it. Impressive.¡±


    Meanwhile, Maxwell had been biding his time. Watching Ashe, an idea formed in his mind. With a flick of his wrist, countless white feathers detached from his wings, sharp and deadly. They spiraled through the air like missiles, aimed straight at Ivan.


    Ivan dodged with ease, his skeletal frame bending unnaturally to avoid Maxwell¡¯s feathers, but in the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Rook, taking advantage of the distraction, hurled a volley of dodgeballs. They arced through the air, homing in on Ivan''s exposed position.


    But Ivan was far from defenseless. With a twist of his hand, spears of bone erupted from his arm, whirling through the air and intercepting the dodgeballs. Each ball was pierced and destroyed mid-flight.


    ¡°So violent,¡± Ivan remarked with an amused grin, his bony form twisting back into a defensive stance. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    But the class wasn¡¯t done yet. Cynthia moved next, her fingers weaving through the air as she spun webs of sticky silk. With a precise flick, she ensnared Ivan¡¯s legs, the webbing tightening around him like a trap. She pulled hard, trying to trip him.


    For a moment, it seemed like she might succeed, but Ivan¡¯s bone-arm morphed into a blade, sharp and lethal. With a single slice, he severed the webs, freeing himself. ¡°Clever,¡± he said with a nod of approval, but Cynthia wasn¡¯t fast enough to ensnare him again.


    Suddenly, from behind, a ball flew straight at Ivan''s head. He hadn¡¯t noticed Sarah sneaking up on him, and it hit him with a solid *thwack*. His hollow eyes widened in shock. But before he could react, Emily appeared like a blur, leaping into the air and spiking the ball down on him with force. The ball slammed into his skull once more.


    Ivan staggered back, his bony form momentarily frozen. For the first time, the class had managed to land not just one, but two hits on him.


    ¡°Well now, that was unexpected,¡± Ivan said, clearly impressed. ¡°Good job, both of you.¡±


    Sarah and Emily beamed with pride, giggling as they exchanged high-fives.


    ¡°Hey, do we have to leave early? This game is fun!¡± the twins said in unison, grinning mischievously.


    Ivan¡¯s skeletal face twisted into a smirk. ¡°Of course not, stay as long as you desire.¡±


    The rest of the class looked on, eyes wide with awe and determination. They had actually landed a hit on Ivan, something none of them had thought possible. And now, the game felt less like a brutal test and more like a battle they might actually win.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    But Ivan wasn¡¯t done. He raised his bony arms, and more spectral hands appeared from the shadows, each holding new dodgeballs. The gym crackled with tension as they floated ominously above them.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s see how long you can keep this up,¡± Ivan said, his voice cold yet playful, as the next wave of attacks surged forward.


    Maxwell surged forward, his angelic wings flaring out behind him, casting long shadows across the gym. A dodgeball gripped tightly in his hand, his expression was calm, calculating. Every step he took felt precise, as if a thousand possibilities played out in his mind before he even moved. His hypercognition, analyzed every angle, every possible move Ivan might make.


    As Maxwell closed in, Ivan met his gaze with those hollow, glowing eyes. With a wave of his hand, more spectral arms rose from the ground, each holding a dodgeball. They launched at Maxwell with terrifying speed, but he was ready. With a sharp flick of his wings, Maxwell dodged left, spinning through the air as the balls narrowly missed him, whizzing by like bullets. His movements were almost too fast to follow, a blur of gold and white streaking across the battlefield.


    ¡°Your speed is very impressive,¡± Ivan remarked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as Maxwell twisted through the air. ¡°But tell me, how do you handle¡ªthis?¡±


    Without warning, the spectral hands didn''t just throw dodgeballs anymore¡ªthey launched them in unpredictable patterns, zigzagging and curving mid-air as if they had minds of their own. It was an overwhelming barrage, seemingly impossible to dodge.


    But Maxwell didn''t falter. His eyes flashed, hypercognition in overdrive, as he calculated every curve, every angle, every trick the balls would take. He weaved through the air, his wings propelling him at breakneck speed, dodging each ball with near-perfect precision. But as he flew, his grip on the dodgeball tightened.


    With a final push, Maxwell closed the distance between himself and Ivan. His wings flared out as he launched the dodgeball with incredible force, aiming straight for Ivan''s skull.


    But Ivan was fast too¡ªfaster than Maxwell had expected. A skeletal hand shot up, catching the ball mere inches from his face. The force of the throw sent a ripple through the air, but Ivan stood his ground, a satisfied grin spreading across his skeletal features.


    ¡°Close,¡± Ivan said, his voice cold and smug. ¡°But not close enough.¡±


    Maxwell landed lightly, breathing hard. He wasn¡¯t finished, though. His wings shifted behind him, ready to make another move, but before he could act¡ª


    Thwack!


    A dodgeball slammed into the back of Ivan¡¯s head, throwing him off balance. He stumbled forward, completely taken by surprise. He turned around to see Cynthia standing at a distance, her arm still outstretched from the throw.


    Her spider-like webs glistened on the gym floor where she''d anchored herself, giving her the stability to launch the perfect shot.


    Ivan blinked, his hollow eyes glowing brighter. ¡°Cynthia,¡± he said, clearly surprised. ¡°Very clever. I didn¡¯t see that one coming.¡±


    Cynthia gave a small smile, her usual calm demeanor unshaken. ¡°Guess I finally got you.¡±


    Maxwell grinned, genuinely impressed, but before he could say anything, Cynthia dropped her arms and turned to leave. ¡°I think that''s enough for today,¡± she said quietly, heading for the exit.


    Ivan tilted his head slightly. ¡°Leaving already?¡±


    Cynthia paused, glancing over her shoulder. ¡°Yeah. I just¡­ need a break. I¡¯ll see you all later.¡±


    Maxwell watched her go, brow furrowing. He knew something was off, but now wasn¡¯t the time to press her.


    As the door swung shut behind Cynthia, Ivan¡¯s voice echoed in the gym, ¡°Well then, looks like some of you are catching on. Who¡¯s next?¡±


    Maxwell stood still, his eyes following Cynthia¡¯s swift exit. Something about her departure gnawed at him¡ªan uneasiness he couldn¡¯t shake. Her throw had been calculated, and efficient, but the way she had left¡­ something wasn¡¯t right. He wanted to brush it off, but his hypercognition wouldn¡¯t let him.


    Outside the gym, Cynthia¡¯s footsteps quickened. Her heart pounded in her chest as she rushed toward the bathroom, her stomach twisting with nausea. By the time she reached the sink, she collapsed against the counter, gasping for breath. Her reflection in the mirror looked pale, a haunted shadow of herself.


    Then, without warning, blood-red tears streamed from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks. Her vision blurred as pain seared through her skull, the throbbing so intense it felt like her head might split open. Cynthia clutched the edges of the sink, trying to steady herself.


    ¡°Not again¡­ why is this happening again?¡± she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Her trembling gaze fixed on the mirror, and that¡¯s when she saw it¡ªa figure behind her, lurking like a nightmare brought to life. A young boy, about her age, with short purple hair and hollow purple eyes. His severed head hung grotesquely in his hand, and a twisted grin spread across his lifeless lips. He wore a black button-up shirt and matching pants, levitating a few inches above the ground as if he didn¡¯t belong to this world.


    The boy¡¯s voice echoed in the small, sterile bathroom, filled with malice and venom. ¡°This is your curse, monster. I¡¯ll torment you, slowly¡­ until you break, until you die,¡± he laughed, his tone as cold as death itself.


    Cynthia¡¯s breath caught in her throat. Her knees buckled, and she gripped the sink harder, her knuckles turning white. ¡°Why, Caleb? Why are you doing this to me?¡± Her voice cracked with desperation, pleading for an answer that would never bring her peace.


    The boy¡¯s severed head rose into the air, levitating on its own as his body closed the distance between them. His hands, pale and cold, reached out and wrapped themselves around her throat. His grip was unrelenting, squeezing tighter with every passing second.


    ¡°You know why, you *monster*,¡± Caleb sneered, his fingers digging into her skin as if to erase her existence, to choke the life out of her. His words were a dagger, twisting deeper into her guilt, her fear.


    Cynthia¡¯s legs gave out, and she collapsed to the cold tile floor, gasping for air, tears of blood still streaming down her face. But then, as suddenly as he had appeared, Caleb vanished. His hands, his voice¡ªgone, leaving only the suffocating silence of the empty bathroom.


    She lay there, trembling, her head still throbbing with pain, but the blood-tears had faded, replaced by normal tears of helplessness and terror. Curling up into a ball, she pressed her face against her knees, sobbing quietly into her arms.


    ¡°Why¡­ why won¡¯t this end?¡± she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse, broken.


    For what felt like an eternity, she stayed there, too afraid to move, praying no one would come in and see her like this.


    Amid the flurry of chaos, the gym was alive with rapid movements, dodging, and the rhythmic sound of dodgeballs ricocheting off walls and Ivan¡¯s bone-crafted defenses. The twins darted around, giggling, as they tried to get another lucky hit on Ivan, but each ball either missed or was effortlessly destroyed by the bone spears Ivan summoned.


    Ashe and Maxwell worked in tandem, using their abilities to enhance their attacks. Maxwell''s feathers sliced through the air while Ashe¡¯s blood-forged weapons smashed dodgeballs with pinpoint precision, yet Ivan parried each attempt with an eerie calm, his skeletal hands weaving through the assault like a ghost.


    Rook, never one to back down, transformed his arms into a mass of tentacles, launching multiple dodgeballs at once, but Ivan''s spears of bone obliterated them before they could get close. His smirk was unflinching, his aura of control undeniable.


    And yet, Noah simply stood in the corner, his posture relaxed, holding onto a single ball. Despite his blindness, he could sense the surrounding chaos¡ªthe rapid movements, the balls whizzing through the air, and the concentration of his classmates as they each tried to score a hit. But Noah knew better than to rush. He was patient, waiting for the moment when everything would fall into place.


    Ivan¡¯s gaze briefly flickered toward Noah, noticing how he hadn¡¯t yet made a move. ¡°Waiting for the perfect moment, Noah? It won¡¯t come if you stay idle,¡± Ivan teased, but there was an edge of respect in his voice.


    Noah¡¯s blank eyes remained calm, unshaken. His senses were heightened beyond what most could comprehend, and he didn¡¯t need sight to know when to act. His grip tightened on the dodgeball, feeling the exact weight of it in his hand, calculating the trajectory with precision. Every vibration in the room, every breath his classmates took, every shift in Ivan¡¯s stance¡ªit all painted a picture in his mind.


    Then, in the middle of another flurry of attacks, Noah felt it¡ªthe moment when Ivan had overextended, just slightly, a gap in his defense. With perfect timing, Noah reared back and threw the dodgeball with a smooth, deliberate motion. The ball cut through the air silently, unnoticed by everyone else in the chaos.


    Ivan, caught mid-defense, didn¡¯t see it coming until it was too late.


    THWACK!


    The dodgeball slammed into Ivan¡¯s chest, the impact resonating across the gym as a stunned silence fell over the class. Ivan stumbled back, blinking in genuine surprise. He glanced down at the ball, now lying at his feet, and then up at Noah.


    For a moment, no one moved.


    Then Ivan broke into a chuckle. ¡°Well played, Noah. Well played.¡±


    The rest of the class erupted into laughter and cheers, surprised and impressed that Noah, without even moving from his spot, had managed to land a hit on their formidable instructor.


    Noah simply smiled, his face calm and collected. ¡°Timing is everything,¡± he said softly, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.


    Ivan shook his head, still chuckling as he retrieved the ball. ¡°Seems I underestimated you, Noah. But you¡¯ve earned your early dismissal.¡± He glanced at the rest of the class. ¡°You can stay if you want, but you don''t have to.¡±


    Noah gave a small, respectful nod and, without saying another word, made his way toward the exit. The door closed softly behind him, leaving the others to continue their futile attacks against the undefeated instructor.


    Noah walked through the halls, his steps quiet but purposeful. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The scent of blood was faint but unmistakable, and his heightened senses had picked it up immediately. It led him directly to the bathroom. Without hesitation, he pushed the door open.


    Inside, Cynthia was hunched over the sink, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly. Her eyes shot up in alarm as Noah entered.


    ¡°Hey! What are you doing here? Get out!¡± she snapped, trying to sound strong, but her voice wavered, betraying her exhaustion.


    Noah stood still, his expression calm but focused. ¡°Why do I smell blood on you?¡± he asked, his voice soft, yet firm.


    Cynthia flinched, wiping at her face hastily, her eyes darting away. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m fine. Just¡­ go away, Noah,¡± she muttered, her tone uneven.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of blood,¡± Noah said gently, not moving. ¡°I can smell it. Is it your blood?¡±


    She hesitated, her shoulders stiffening. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Yes¡­ it¡¯s mine. But I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m just¡­ not feeling well.¡±


    Noah¡¯s brows furrowed in concern, but his voice remained calm. ¡°I¡¯ll stay with you, at least for a little bit. You don¡¯t have to talk, but¡­ if you want to, I¡¯ll listen.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s eyes flickered with frustration. ¡°This is the girls¡¯ room, idiot,¡± she said, her voice sharper now, trying to regain some control over the situation. ¡°Just get out.¡±


    Realizing his mistake, Noah¡¯s eyes widened slightly, his face flushing. ¡°Oh¡­ sorry,¡± he mumbled, awkwardly turning around. ¡°I¡¯ll, uh¡­ wait outside.¡±


    He stepped out, closing the door behind him, his thoughts racing. He could still sense something was deeply wrong, but he respected her boundaries. Standing just outside, he leaned against the wall, his head tilted slightly, listening for any sign that she might need him.


    A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Cynthia stepped out. Her face was still pale, but she had composed herself. She glanced up at Noah, her expression guarded, yet a hint of vulnerability lingered in her eyes.


    ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t tell anyone about this, okay?¡± she said quietly, her voice lacking its usual edge. ¡°I¡¯m going back to my dorm. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    Noah nodded, his face soft with understanding. ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone. But¡­ if you need anything, I¡¯ll be around.¡±


    Cynthia hesitated for a moment, her eyes meeting his. Something unspoken passed between them¡ªa silent recognition of shared pain. Then, without another word, she turned and walked down the hall, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space.


    As Noah watched her go, his senses still tingling with unease, he knew this wasn¡¯t over. Whatever was happening to Cynthia, it was something dark, something that had its claws in her. And he wasn¡¯t going to let her face it alone, no matter how hard she tried to push him away.


    The weight of their unspoken secrets hung heavy in the air as Noah stood there, wondering just how much more his classmates were hiding beneath the surface.

 Chapter 49-Triple Attack

    The gymnasium was filled with tension as Ivan continued his relentless barrage of dodgeballs. The skeletal hands he conjured moved with unnerving precision, launching each ball with deadly accuracy. The floor was littered with destroyed equipment, and the walls were scorched from near misses. But despite the chaos, only three students remained standing: Maxwell, Ashe, and Rook.


    Ivan¡¯s hollow gaze swept over them, his skull gleaming under the fluorescent lights. ¡°Impressive,¡± he said, his voice carrying a faint echo that made it sound like it came from the depths of a crypt. ¡°I expected one of you to land a hit by now. Perhaps you''re holding back?¡±


    Maxwell, wings unfurled and a determined glint in his eyes, clenched his fists. ¡°This is getting old, fast. If we don¡¯t change our strategy, none of us are walking out of here early.¡± His mind raced with calculations, every possible outcome flashing before his eyes in an instant. Then he turned to the others. ¡°Listen up. We need to work together. If one of us gets a hit, stay and help the others finish this. No one goes down alone. Deal?¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± Ashe and Rook responded in unison, the seriousness of the moment sharpening their focus.


    Ashe, his eyes glowing with an eerie blue light, readied himself. His hands crackled with the energy of his ability, blood coalescing into jagged, shifting weapons. He had already tested Ivan¡¯s reflexes and knew the old skeleton was fast¡ªtoo fast for a head-on assault. But if they worked together, they might finally break through his defenses.


    Rook, his arms morphed into thick, writhing tentacles, was breathing heavily but remained determined. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his focus was sharp. He wasn¡¯t as fast as Maxwell or as tricky as Ashe, but his raw strength and ability to adapt his form had kept him in the game this long. Now, he was ready to use that strength to support his teammates.


    Ivan chuckled, sensing the shift in their resolve. ¡°Ah, so you finally decide to stop playing around. Good. Show me what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s wings flared, and he was in motion in an instant, a blur of feathers and energy. Ashe followed right behind him, his blood-forged weapons gleaming like molten steel, while Rook transformed his arms into massive, shield-like tentacles, ready to defend against Ivan''s counterattacks.


    The skeletal hands began to move faster, throwing dodgeballs at lightning speed, each one a blur of motion. But now, they had a plan. Maxwell darted forward, weaving through the barrage with his hypercognition guiding every step. Ashe, in sync with Maxwell, vanished and reappeared in flashes of blue light, slashing the incoming dodgeballs to pieces before they could land a hit. Rook, standing as a shield, deflected the balls that came too close, his tentacles absorbing the impact.


    Ivan¡¯s bony fingers tapped on the side of his coffin in thought. ¡°Ah, I see. A pincer formation. One to distract, one to break my defenses, and one to counter. Clever.¡±


    But Ivan was no ordinary opponent. With a flick of his wrist, the skeletal hands doubled in number, and now the gym was filled with a swarm of projectiles. It was as if the room itself had come alive, every dodgeball moving with a mind of its own.


    Maxwell gritted his teeth, narrowly dodging a ball that whizzed past his face. ¡°We can do this! Just keep pushing!¡±


    Ashe¡¯s eyes narrowed, sweat dripping down his brow. His powers thrummed with dangerous energy, each second pushing him closer to his limits. But he wouldn¡¯t let up. Not yet. ¡°Now, Rook!¡±


    Rook roared, slamming the ground with his tentacles, sending a shockwave that disrupted the trajectory of several incoming balls. Maxwell seized the opportunity, rushing forward as fast as his wings could carry him.


    Ivan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Bold. But not enough.¡± He summoned a wall of bone to block Maxwell¡¯s approach.


    Maxwell grinned, throwing the ball at the ground in front of Ivan instead of directly at him. The ball bounced off the floor, its speed and angle perfectly calculated. It ricocheted up, flying toward Ivan¡¯s head.


    For the first time in the exercise, Ivan¡¯s skull tilted in surprise. But just as the ball was about to connect, he flicked his bony fingers, and a last-second skeletal hand snatched it out of the air.


    Maxwell growled in frustration. ¡°Dang it!¡±


    ¡°Close. Very close,¡± Ivan said with a smug chuckle. ¡°But not quite.¡±


    Ashe¡¯s eyes flashed, and for a split second, the gym seemed to be still. He vanished, using his ability to momentarily slip out of time. When he reappeared, he was directly behind Ivan, a dodgeball already in his hands, glowing with his own energy.


    As Ivan spun around to summon his bone shield, Ashe''s throw collided with the barrier, the sound of the impact reverberating through the gym. It was an impressive display of power, but not quite enough. The bone shield held strong, deflecting the ball with a sharp crack. Ivan¡¯s skeletal grin widened. ¡°Nice try, but you¡¯ll need more than that.¡±


    But before he could gloat further, Maxwell was already in motion. His wings flared with radiant energy, and with a swift flick of his wrist, he fired a single feather. The moment it left his grasp, the feather elongated and morphed midair, transforming into a glowing sword of light that streaked toward Ivan like a meteor.


    The sword of light crashed into Ivan''s bone shield, shattering it in a dazzling explosion of light and fragments. The force sent a shockwave through the gym, causing everyone to shield their eyes. The energy was enough to break through the barrier¡ªbarely¡ªbut the blast was so powerful that it caught Ashe off guard. The edge of the glowing sword grazed his face, leaving a thin, sizzling cut across his cheek.


    Ashe winced but didn¡¯t falter. His grip tightened around the dodgeball in his hand, and for a split second, he locked eyes with Maxwell. There was no need for words¡ªthis was their chance.


    Ivan, still reeling from the unexpected blow, barely had time to react as Ashe, despite the injury, pivoted with lightning speed and hurled the ball directly at him. The ball sailed through the air with deadly precision, slipping past Ivan¡¯s weakened defenses.


    THWACK!


    The ball struck Ivan squarely in the back, the impact loud and satisfying. Ivan froze, his skeletal form stiffening in surprise. For the first time during the entire exercise, the smirk on his face faltered. The class, watching from the sidelines, collectively held their breath.


    Ivan slowly turned his head, his bony neck creaking. His hollow eye sockets locked onto Ashe, then flickered toward Maxwell. There was a long, tense silence.


    Then, Ivan chuckled¡ªa deep, echoing laugh that filled the gym. ¡°Well played,¡± he said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. ¡°Very well played.¡±


    He turned to Ashe, his grin returning. ¡°You hit me fair and square. Impressive teamwork, even if you had to take a hit to do it.¡±


    Ashe wiped the blood from his cheek, smirking through the pain. ¡°I¡¯ll take it. A win¡¯s a win.¡±


    Maxwell, still glowing with the remnants of his power, nodded. ¡°We finally got you.¡±


    Ivan tapped his bony chin thoughtfully, as if reflecting on the battle. ¡°Indeed, you did. I¡¯ll admit, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d pull it off. You¡¯re a lot more resourceful than I gave you credit for.¡±


    The room, once filled with relentless tension, now buzzed with newfound energy after their small victory. The air was charged with a mix of adrenaline and focus. Even Rook, who had been standing cautiously at the sidelines, exhaled in relief. The weight of the battle was momentarily lifted, but they knew this wasn¡¯t the time to celebrate yet. They had only chipped away at Ivan¡¯s defenses, and the real fight was far from over.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s one down! Let¡¯s keep pushing!¡± Rook shouted, his voice filled with determination.


    Without hesitation, Rook charged forward, his tentacles surging from his arms like a mass of living, writhing limbs. They lashed out in every direction, each tentacle extending wide and fast, creating a chaotic net of attacks that forced Ivan onto the defensive. The movements were wild, overwhelming, and purposeful, meant to disorient Ivan and obscure his sight. The bony teacher barely had a moment to react as Rook pressed in, slashing and striking with relentless precision.


    From behind, Ashe moved with lethal grace, his eyes locking on Ivan''s exposed back. Blood swirled around his hands, taking the form of a jagged sword. The crimson blade gleamed as Ashe darted forward, aiming for a critical strike. The blade slashed through the air, seeking Ivan''s spine with deadly intent.


    But Ashe¡¯s attack was a distraction, and it worked. Ivan spun to parry the blood sword with a bony arm, leaving himself momentarily exposed.


    Above them, Maxwell descended like a hawk, his wings beating the air with a force that sent a gust rippling through the gym. He clutched a dodgeball, his eyes fixed on Ivan¡¯s head. Timing his dive perfectly, Maxwell¡¯s body soared through the space between Rook¡¯s slashing tentacles and Ashe¡¯s strike. His ball-wielding arm was raised high, poised to deliver a devastating spike.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    At that moment, Ashe¡¯s eyes flared with a brilliant blue light, freezing time itself for a few seconds. Ivan, despite his reflexes, found himself immobilized, caught in Ashe''s time-altering grasp. His skeletal form stood frozen in place, unable to move as Maxwell closed in from above.


    But Ivan was no ordinary opponent.


    Even in the frozen state, a single spectral hand that had been previously summoned moved with ghostly precision. The hand rushed towards Ivan¡¯s head, its ethereal form translucent and eerie as it reached up to block Maxwell¡¯s incoming strike. The dodgeball slammed into the spectral palm with a sharp thwack, the force of the impact reverberating through the air as the hand absorbed the blow.


    Yet, while the spectral hand had thwarted Maxwell, the others seized the fleeting opportunity. Rook, whose tentacles still flanked Ivan from all sides, took advantage of the brief paralysis. One of his appendages snatched up a dodgeball, its tendrils curling around the sphere as if it were a natural extension of his body. With a sharp flick, Rook hurled the ball at Ivan''s back, aiming for the perfect moment just before Ashe¡¯s time freeze lifted.


    CRACK!


    The ball slammed into Ivan''s ribs, and this time, there was no spectral hand to intercept it. Ivan was unfrozen just in time to feel the full impact, his bony form rattling from the hit.


    The class collectively held its breath for a split second, waiting to see Ivan¡¯s reaction. But instead of anger, Ivan chuckled, his skeletal jaw clattering slightly as he regained his composure.


    ¡°Now that was clever,¡± Ivan admitted, his hollow eyes flicking between Rook, Ashe, and Maxwell. ¡°Freezing time and overwhelming me with a coordinated strike? You¡¯ve learned something after all.¡±


    Maxwell landed softly, wings folding behind him as he grinned. ¡°We¡¯re just getting started.¡±


    Rook flexed his tentacles with a smirk, while Ashe wiped a bit of blood from his lip, eyes still faintly glowing. They had managed to land another hit, but Ivan wasn¡¯t done, and neither were they. The teamwork was evolving, their strategies sharpening with every exchange.


    Ivan, amused but far from defeated, raised his arms as spectral hands began to form once again around him. ¡°Very well, then,¡± he said, his voice laced with anticipation. ¡°Let¡¯s see how far you can take this.¡±


    Maxwell stood tall, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he took a deep breath. ¡°I have a request,¡± he said, his voice steady but laced with excitement. ¡°Let me get this final hit by myself. I''ve had too many hits fail already¡­ Just watch me. I got this.¡±


    Rook raised an eyebrow but gave a nod, stepping back. ¡°Good luck, man. We¡¯ll be watching from the sidelines.¡±


    As Ashe turned to leave, Maxwell leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°On my signal¡­ freeze him.¡±


    Ashe¡¯s eyes narrowed in understanding, and he gave the faintest nod before stepping back to join Rook.


    Maxwell¡¯s wings spread wide, shimmering in the light, each feather glowing with ethereal energy. With a sharp movement, he ripped two feathers from each wing, and in an instant, they transformed¡ªelongating, hardening, until they became twin blades of pure, radiant light. The energy pulsed through the air, humming with power. His smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with fierce determination.


    ¡°How bold,¡± Ivan said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched Maxwell prepare for the solo strike. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m disappointed. I was so impressed by your earlier teamwork. You were beginning to think like a unit.¡±


    Maxwell chuckled, his gaze never wavering from Ivan¡¯s skeletal form. ¡°We may find ourselves in situations where only one of us is left standing. If that¡¯s the case, I wouldn¡¯t want to be helpless.¡± His voice was cool, almost casual, but his wings fluttered slightly, betraying the tension in his body. He was ready to strike, ready to prove something.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Ivan replied, his bony fingers flexing. He conjured a spectral hand that hovered above him, an ethereal weapon at the ready. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can impress me by yourself, then.¡±


    Maxwell didn¡¯t waste any more time. With a powerful beat of his wings, he shot forward like a lightning bolt, his blades of light slicing through the air as he closed the distance between him and Ivan. The speed of his approach was blinding, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might catch Ivan off guard.


    But Ivan was no novice.


    With a flick of his wrist, a massive wall of bones erupted from the ground between them. Maxwell¡¯s first blade clashed with the bony barricade, sending sparks of light and bone flying in all directions. He pivoted in midair, using the momentum to slash downward with his second blade, aiming to cleave through the barrier.


    Before his attack could land, Ivan¡¯s spectral hand shot out, gripping Maxwell''s wrist with an iron-like grasp. The bone wall dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, and Ivan spun, hurling Maxwell through the air like a rag doll. Maxwell¡¯s wings flared, catching himself mid-throw, his expression unflinching. He whipped his hand out, summoning a flurry of glowing feathers that exploded toward Ivan in a dazzling display of light.


    Ivan barely flinched as Maxwell''s light-blades hurtled toward him. With a casual wave, a shimmering wall of spectral energy materialized, absorbing the radiant feathers effortlessly. The light flickered, dispersing harmlessly into the air. Ivan chuckled, his deep, hollow laugh reverberating throughout the room. ¡°Is that it, Maxwell? You¡¯re better than this.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. ¡°Am I?¡± He paused for a heartbeat, then shouted, ¡°Ashe, now!¡±


    In an instant, Ashe¡¯s eyes flashed a brilliant blue from the sidelines. The world around Ivan seemed to slow to a crawl, the very air around him thickening as time itself bent to Ashe''s will. Ivan''s movements, so graceful and fluid moments before, halted as if the weight of the universe pressed down on him.


    Maxwell seized the moment. In a streak of blinding speed, he darted forward, blades shimmering at his sides. But instead of finishing with his weapons, he tossed them aside. With a sharp crack, his fist connected squarely with Ivan¡¯s jaw, a blow that resonated through the skeleton''s frame as the time freeze lifted.


    Ivan¡¯s head tilted slightly from the impact, but his expression was more curious than pained. ¡°You know, you could¡¯ve ended this right there,¡± Ivan remarked, his voice calm, almost amused.


    Maxwell wiped the sweat from his brow, still grinning. ¡°Yeah, I could have, but I really wanted to punch you.¡± He laughed, the sound light but tinged with a fierce edge. ¡°Besides,¡± he added, stepping back, ¡°there¡¯s something I¡¯ve been meaning to try.¡±


    The room tensed as Ivan¡¯s eyes narrowed. Sensing Maxwell¡¯s intent, he quickly summoned layers of bone walls, fortifying his defenses. Thick, jagged barriers of bone erupted from the floor, forming an imposing barricade. But Maxwell was already in motion, weaving and darting past each one with practiced ease, his speed unmatched. He grabbed a dodgeball, his eyes never leaving Ivan.


    With a grin, Maxwell vanished behind Ivan, reappearing in a blur of movement. ¡°Under the Authority of Rules,¡± he yelled, his voice sharp and commanding, ¡°thou shall not move!¡±


    In that instant, glowing runes spiraled across Ivan¡¯s body, ancient symbols shimmering with a fierce light. Ivan¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, his skeletal frame frozen mid-movement. The sheer force of the spell stunned him, Maxwell wielding an authority-type ability was the last thing he¡¯d expected.


    For a moment, silence enveloped the room, the air thick with tension. Maxwell, a grin of satisfaction plastered on his face, casually tossed the dodgeball. It soared through the air with an almost poetic grace, arcing beautifully before landing squarely on Ivan¡¯s back with a soft thud. The sound echoed in the stillness, amplifying the impact far beyond its light touch, as if the world paused to acknowledge the moment.


    Ivan let out a low, rumbling chuckle as the paralysis wore off. He shook his head, his skeletal features betraying a mix of amusement and incredulity. ¡°What was that? I didn¡¯t hear any reports of you having an ability. The most I heard was a rumor from Frank that you possessed hypercognition, which was at least believable. But this?¡± He gestured dismissively, clearly bewildered. ¡°It¡¯s utterly unthinkable.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s smirk deepened, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes. ¡°I fully plan to make our class win the joint training event,¡± he declared confidently.


    ¡°Good job, you¡¯ve still got fifteen minutes to spare,¡± Ivan replied, his tone lightening. He sighed, the weight of the day settling onto his bony shoulders. ¡°Now, I need to go have a long meeting with Frank. So, I¡¯ll take my leave.¡±


    As Ivan exited the classroom, his mind turned toward Frank¡¯s office. The space had recently undergone a renovation, transforming it from a chaotic mess of damage and vandalism into a serene haven. The calming colors and tidy decor contrasted sharply with the fearsome reputation Frank had earned among the facility staff. In the corner, Bjorn Jr.''s dog bed had been significantly upgraded, plush and inviting, serving as a stark reminder of the peculiar hierarchy within the facility. Despite the dread, Frank instilled in the members of A.E.G.I.S, there was an unspoken consensus, none could bear the thought of Frank enjoying a nicer space than the beloved dog.


    With a shake of his head, Ivan strode down the corridor, his thoughts swirling with the anticipation of the impending meeting and a flicker of curiosity about what Maxwell¡¯s newfound ability might mean for their class.


    Inside Frank''s office, the atmosphere was a bizarre blend of order and chaos. Frank sat at his desk, scribbling away at paperwork, his arms transformed into eldritch tentacles that moved with uncanny dexterity. Multiple eyes sprouted across his body, each one flickering with unnatural energy as they scanned and processed information simultaneously, allowing him to tackle the mountain of files before him with remarkable speed.


    The moment Ivan barged into the office, Frank¡¯s form shifted back to his more human guise, the tentacles retreating and the extra eyes disappearing as if they were merely figments of the imagination.


    ¡°Everyone here is a freak,¡± Ivan sighed, the familiar frustration spilling from his lips.


    ¡°Speak for yourself, you bony bastard,¡± Frank replied with a smirk, his tone teasing. ¡°Now, what do you want?¡±


    ¡°One of my students, Maxwell, activated an Authority-type ability in class. He possesses the Authority of Rules,¡± Ivan explained, the weight of his words hanging in the air.


    Frank¡¯s expression shifted, intrigue sparking in his eyes. ¡°I see. Well, do me a favor and don¡¯t mention this to anyone,¡± he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone.


    ¡°Why should I do that?¡± Ivan questioned, crossing his arms defensively.


    ¡°Well, for starters, I could easily kill you and turn you into fertilizer,¡± Frank retorted with a grin that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°However, should the boss sink his teeth into Maxwell, his growth will be significantly stunted. I doubt you want that.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± Ivan admitted, his curiosity piqued. ¡°But answer me this, what¡¯s your interest in that child? There¡¯s more you¡¯re not letting on.¡±


    ¡°My intuition tells me he has even more hidden potential,¡± Frank replied cryptically, a glint of mischief in his gaze. ¡°Trust me, you¡¯re in for a treat.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll keep my mouth shut. On one condition, I get to play with Bjorn Jr.,¡± Ivan requested, his voice lightening at the thought of the dog.


    ¡°I actively encourage it. Besides, he definitely enjoys your company the most¡­well besides me of course,¡± Frank replied, his smirk softening into a rare smile.


    Ivan walked over to where Bjorn Jr. lay on the bed, his tail thumping against the soft fabric, eager for attention. Ivan materialized a bone from thin air, the spectral energy shimmering around it before solidifying into a tangible form.


    With a joyful bark, Bjorn Jr. snatched the bone from Ivan¡¯s hand, his eyes gleaming with delight. As Ivan knelt down to pet him, the warmth of their bond enveloped the room, offering a moment of solace amid the chaos of their lives.

 Chapter 50-Cursed

    Maxwell stumbled back to his room, his body aching from the intensity of the class. His wings still buzzed faintly with residual energy, but the exhaustion hit him like a wave. The adrenaline from the fight with Ivan was wearing off, and all he wanted was to collapse onto his bed and drift into unconsciousness.


    But as he entered his room, something caught his eye¡ªa familiar, unsettling sight.


    On his desk sat a single white rose, its petals impossibly pristine, almost glowing in the dim light of his room. Next to it was a letter, the envelope as pale as the flower beside it. Maxwell''s heart skipped a beat. He didn¡¯t need to open it to know who it was from.


    ¡°Nihil,¡± he whispered under his breath, feeling an odd mixture of dread and intrigue tighten in his chest.


    He''d once again received one of these cryptic letters, always accompanied by a white rose. Each time, the message was brief but laced with meaning, hinting at things only Nihil could know¡ªthings about Maxwell, his powers, and the hidden depths of the world they lived in.


    He hesitated before stepping closer to the desk. For a moment, he considered leaving the letter unopened, pretending it wasn¡¯t there. But he knew that wasn¡¯t an option. Nihil wouldn¡¯t be ignored, and besides, his curiosity was too strong.


    Maxwell carefully picked up the letter, feeling the weight of the message even before he tore it open. He unfolded the delicate paper and began to read.


    The letter felt cold in his hands, as if the paper itself carried the icy disdain of its sender. Maxwell unfolded it carefully, his eyes narrowing as he began to read.


    ¡°Hello, corpse of future damnation,¡±


    It began, as always, with Nihil''s biting tone, laced with venom.


    ¡°Has it really been that long since we last exchanged pleasantries? It''s amusing, and yet tragic, that the stain of your existence persists. I find myself caught between pity and disgust at the fact that you, of all things, still crawl through this world.¡±


    Maxwell''s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to keep reading.


    ¡°Though I suppose your recent death was inevitable. After all, what more could be expected from a creature as worthless as you? A demon incapable of fulfilling even its own meager destiny. But take solace, dear Maxwell, for death suits you¡ªif only you''d had the decency to stay dead.¡±


    The words slashed through him, each one calculated to wound. Nihil had always enjoyed twisting the knife, relishing in the torment she could cause. Maxwell could practically hear her voice¡ªcold, mocking.


    ¡°Soon, however, you''ll meet another. Another player in this twisted little game you¡¯ve found yourself entangled in. Unlike you, she is far more deserving of survival. Where you falter, she thrives. Where you cower, she rises. You¡¯d do well to form an alliance with her if you wish to delay the inevitable ruin you¡¯re destined for.¡±


    Maxwell felt a chill creep up his spine. Who was this other player? And why did Nihil seem so certain that they would meet? The letter felt less like a warning and more like a taunt, a challenge he wasn¡¯t sure he could refuse.


    ¡°I suggest you heed this advice, wretch. Align yourself with her. Maybe, just maybe, trash like you can survive a little longer. Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things. You are, after all, a corpse waiting to rot. Try not to embarrass yourself too much before your inevitable end, you miserable failure.¡±


    The letter ended with a flourish, as it always did:


    ¡ªNihil.


    Maxwell crumpled the letter in his hand, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. Nihil¡¯s words echoed in his mind, each one a deliberate blow to his pride, his sense of self.


    But there was something else there too¡ªsomething deeper. A threat? A clue? He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this wasn¡¯t just Nihil mocking him for sport. There was a message hidden beneath the cruelty, a hint that something far more dangerous was on the horizon.


    His eyes flickered to the white rose once more, its presence as unsettling as the letter itself. Nihil¡¯s game had never been simple. And now, with the mention of another player, it seemed to be getting even more complicated.


    ¡°I really hate him,¡± Maxwell muttered under his breath, the crumpled letter still clutched in his hand. His frustration hung in the air like a storm cloud.


    A soft voice suddenly chimed in from behind him, startling him. ¡°I agree, that man is the worst,¡± said Eden, who appeared out of thin air, sitting cross-legged on his bed. She kicked her legs lazily, as if she had been there all along.


    Maxwell jumped, his heart skipping a beat. ¡°What the¡ªEden?! What are you doing here?¡± he stammered, clearly shaken by her sudden appearance.


    Eden smirked, unfazed by his shock. ¡°Oh, you know, the usual. Same reason as that letter over there.¡± She flicked her gaze toward the desk, where the white rose and Nihil''s letter still lay. ¡°I came to tell you about the upcoming fun.¡± Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°Much like how I chose you, my idiotic brother picked a champion of his own. You¡¯ll meet her at the joint training event.  I want you to utterly crush her.¡±


    Maxwell blinked, still processing. ¡°Wait¡­what? Nihil¡¯s letter said I should ally with her¡ª¡± he started, but Eden waved him off, interrupting him mid-sentence.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, sure. Ally, schmalley. Do that if you want. But do me a favor, would you?¡± Her eyes narrowed, a mischievous glint flashing behind them. ¡°Throw the ball really, really hard at her.¡±


    Maxwell blinked in disbelief. ¡°Why would I do that? Why do you want me to hurt her?¡±


    Eden let out an exaggerated huff, pouting like a child denied a treat. ¡°Because I¡¯m annoyed, obviously. My stupid brother is so smug with his little ¡®precious champion.¡¯ I just want to see her squirm a little. You know, shake things up.¡±


    Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, bewildered. ¡°So¡­ you want me to throw a ball at her because you¡¯re annoyed with your brother?¡± He sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°I¡¯ll try to win and beat her, but I¡¯m not going out of my way to hurt her.¡±


    Eden¡¯s pout deepened as she folded her arms across her chest. ¡°Fine, be boring about it. But you better win. No slacking off, Maxwell. Or else¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, leaving the threat hanging ominously in the air.


    Maxwell exhaled, already feeling exhausted. ¡°What does ¡®or else¡¯ even mean with you?¡± he muttered under his breath, but Eden only grinned, vanishing as abruptly as she had appeared.


    The room felt heavier now, Maxwell¡¯s mind spinning with the weight of the letter, the upcoming challenge, and now Eden¡¯s strange demands. He glanced back at the white rose, feeling more caught in the middle of something dangerous than ever.


    ¡°Can you tell me about her?¡± Maxwell asked, trying to push past the shock of Eden¡¯s sudden appearance and refocus on the upcoming game.


    Eden lazily twirled a strand of her silver hair, eyes half-lidded with boredom. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ like you, she¡¯s not fully human,¡± she began, her tone casual. ¡°She¡¯s got pyrokinesis and the Authority of Nothing. Charismatic too. She¡¯ll be a decent contender in the game¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, as if she was already losing interest.


    Maxwell¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What do you mean? I know this vessel is human, but I¡¯m still a demon at my core.¡±


    Eden¡¯s smirk faded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she muttered under her breath, ¡°Sure, but you¡¯re only half-demon. Your mother was human¡­ that stupid wretch.¡± The last part was almost inaudible, meant to stay hidden from him.


    Maxwell¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Tell me about her,¡± he pressed, his voice quieter now. ¡°I never met my mom¡­ and my dad¡¯s dead. I want to know what she was like.¡±


    Eden yawned, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t bother. She¡¯s six feet under, just like your dad. You do have a sister though¡­¡± She trailed off, stretching her arms and letting out another dramatic yawn. ¡°But I¡¯m too tired to discuss this with you right now.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Maxwell¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Wait, what? A sister? You can¡¯t just drop that and¡ª¡± Before he could finish, Eden collapsed back onto the bed, eyes closed as she pretended to fall into an instant slumber.


    ¡°Hey! Hey, wake up!¡± Maxwell said, moving toward her and shaking her shoulder lightly. ¡°You can¡¯t just say that and then fall asleep.¡±


    But Eden had fully committed to her performance, letting out exaggerated snores as if she were deep in dreamland. Occasionally, between breaths, she mumbled in her sleep, ¡°Stupid brother¡­ my Maxwell is so much better than your champion¡­¡±


    Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, a wave of frustration washing over him. The room felt more suffocating than before, a whirlwind of half-revealed secrets swirling around him. A mother he never knew, a sister out there somewhere¡ªyet all he had now was a snoring entity and more questions than answers.


    ¡°Why is my life like this?¡± Maxwell muttered, his voice heavy with frustration as he slumped onto the edge of the bed. His mind churned with too many unanswered questions.


    ¡°You¡¯re all so irritating,¡± Maxwell sighed, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He stood up abruptly, pushing away the confusing thoughts clouding his mind, and left the room.


    As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Eden¡¯s eyes fluttered open. She grinned to herself, no longer pretending to sleep. ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± she mused, stretching languidly. ¡°I just had to let all that slip. Not that it matters¡­ He¡¯ll meet his sister soon enough. What are the odds that both my brother¡¯s apostle and his sister would end up in the same place, at the same time?¡±


    She let out a small, mischievous chuckle, reclining lazily on the bed. ¡°What was her name again¡­? Something from that book about Wonderland, wasn¡¯t it?¡± She paused, tapping her chin. ¡°Ah, I''ll remember it eventually. It¡¯s bound to come up soon, anyway.¡±


    Meanwhile, across the campus, Cynthia sat alone in her dorm room, her body trembling as silent sobs wracked her chest. Things were spiraling out of control. Tears of blood trickled from her eyes, staining her cheeks, the warm droplets falling onto her hands as her head pounded with an unbearable, pulsing pain.


    In her mind, the voice of her brother screamed relentlessly, like nails on a chalkboard, his words cutting deeper than any physical wound.


    ¡°You¡¯re a monster, Cynthia! You should never have been born!¡±


    The venom in his voice filled her ears, overwhelming her senses until the world outside disappeared into nothingness. Her vision blurred, and her reflection in the nearby mirror warped, her skin beginning to turn pitch-black in patches, spreading like an otherworldly curse across her body.


    She gripped her arms tightly, as though trying to hold herself together, fighting against the creeping darkness within. It felt like she was unraveling, both physically and mentally. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps.


    ¡°Why is this happening to me?¡± she whispered, her voice breaking as the tears kept flowing.


    At that moment, Cynthia felt utterly trapped¡ªcaught in a nightmare she couldn''t escape, her brother¡¯s hatred poisoning her thoughts, the curse on her body twisting her form. She curled up on the bed, clutching her knees, desperately trying to drown out the pain, hoping against hope for someone, anyone, to save her from herself. But deep down, she feared there might be no salvation left for someone like her.


    The black spots crept across Cynthia¡¯s arm like an unstoppable plague, spreading with a grotesque urgency. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that felt like her skin was being torn apart and reformed all at once. Her once-smooth flesh warped, the texture hardening and darkening until it resembled burnt meat¡ªtwisted, leathery, and ruined. From within the blackened mass, distorted faces began to emerge, their mouths stretching wide in silent screams. One by one, they hissed her name.


    ¡°Monster,¡± they whispered, their voices dripping with malice. ¡°Freak. Abomination.¡±


    Panic surged through her. Gasping for breath, Cynthia stumbled into the bathroom, clutching her deformed arm as though trying to hold the darkness back. Her reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable. The sclera of her right eye had turned an unnatural crimson, glowing like a cursed ember. Pain shot through her skull as if her eye were on fire.


    Tears of blood streamed down her cheeks, thickening and darkening with each drop, until they turned into an oily, black substance that dripped into the sink, staining the porcelain-like ink. She watched in horror as the tears left streaks of darkness on her skin, unable to comprehend what was happening to her.


    And then, behind her in the mirror, her brother¡¯s ghostly form materialized. His face was twisted in rage, his eyes burning with hatred. His mouth opened, unleashing a torrent of vicious screams that reverberated through her mind.


    ¡°You should have never been born!¡± he bellowed, his voice an echo of the torment that had haunted her for so long.


    ¡°Monster. You¡¯re nothing but a curse!¡±


    In a burst of uncontrollable fury and despair, Cynthia lashed out. Her corrupted arm, now a thing of twisted faces and demonic flesh, slammed into the mirror with terrifying force. The glass shattered, shards flying in all directions, cutting into her hand and spraying the sink with droplets of blood.


    The voice from the mirror only grew louder, more insistent. Each shard of glass seemed to warp, the fractured pieces reflecting distorted versions of her brother¡¯s face. It was as if the very room was mocking her, each crack in the glass whispering her doom.


    Each jagged shard on the floor seemed to taunt her, their sharp edges reflecting tiny, sneering faces. ¡°I will never leave,¡± he whispered, his voice soft but cruel. ¡°I will watch you fall. I will see you die.¡±


    ¡°Leave me alone!¡± Cynthia sobbed, her voice breaking as she stumbled backward, clutching her bleeding hand. But the voices didn¡¯t stop. They echoed in her head, multiplying, growing louder until it felt like they were splitting her skull in two.


    ¡°Never,¡± the shards replied in unison, their mocking tones stabbing at her psyche. ¡°Not until we see you break. Not until we watch you die.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, blood staining her clothes and pooling beneath her. The exhaustion hit her all at once, an overwhelming sense of weakness and despair. Her head throbbed with such intensity it felt like it might explode, and her vision blurred, the world around her swimming in darkness.


    Her cursed arm twitched, still seething with the dark energy that had corrupted it. The faces embedded in her flesh grinned, their eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. The energy drain was unbearable, like her life force was being siphoned away with every passing second.


    Her breath came in ragged gasps as she lay there, surrounded by shards of her broken reflection, haunted by the voices that tormented her. Alone in her despair, she felt her grip on reality slipping. She wasn¡¯t sure how much longer she could hold on.


    As Cynthia slipped into unconsciousness, the grotesque disfigurements that had ravaged her body began to retreat. The twisted faces melted back into her skin, their cruel grins vanishing, as if the darkness itself lost interest in tormenting her when she could no longer feel the pain. Her arm, which had moments ago been a nightmarish mass of corruption, returned to its normal state, pale and vulnerable. For now, the curse slept along with her.


    In the dimly lit room, a soft green glow flickered, heralding the quiet arrival of Eden. She materialized out of the shadows, her eyes glowing with an eerie yet serene light. Her usual playful demeanor was absent; instead, her expression was one of pity, a rare softness that she hardly ever showed. She stood over Cynthia¡¯s fragile form, her gaze thoughtful, almost melancholic.


    With a gentle wave of her hand, Eden whispered, ¡°Authority of Life.¡± A soothing wave of green energy flowed from her fingers, wrapping around Cynthia¡¯s body like a protective cocoon. The dark mist that had clung to Cynthia¡¯s arm dissipated, retreating before Eden¡¯s power as if it feared the life-giving force. Cynthia¡¯s strained breathing eased, and the tension in her muscles began to relax as the curse momentarily lost its grip.


    ¡°This should fix you¡­ for now,¡± Eden murmured, her voice soft but edged with concern. She carefully lifted Cynthia, her movements unexpectedly tender, and laid her down on the bed. ¡°But this curse, it''s not gone. It will come back, probably when you''re at your weakest.¡±


    Eden sighed, standing over Cynthia as she studied her face. She could sense the swirling remnants of the curse lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to strike again. ¡°How did you come to be burdened with something so vile?¡± she wondered aloud, her voice tinged with curiosity and frustration. ¡°If this keeps going, you could become a threat to Maxwell¡­¡±


    She hesitated, her emerald eyes narrowing as she considered her next words. ¡°Maybe I should just end you now,¡± she said quietly, her tone cold, though her hand hovered indecisively above Cynthia''s chest. ¡°It would be easier. He¡¯d probably be sad, but¡­¡±


    For a brief moment, Eden¡¯s hand flickered with energy, the green light intensifying, but then it faded as she sighed deeply. She glanced around the room, her sharp gaze analyzing every inch of Cynthia¡¯s form, searching for the source of the curse that had embedded itself so deeply within her. She extended her hand once more, and tiny green fireflies appeared, fluttering through the air and weaving around Cynthia¡¯s body like living threads of light.


    Eden frowned. The exact cause was elusive, the curse deeply hidden within layers of spiritual and physical corruption. But something nagged at her, a familiar darkness that sent a chill through her bones.


    ¡°This¡­this feels like Pandora''s work,¡± Eden muttered, her lips curling in distaste. ¡°How utterly annoying.¡±


    The fireflies pulsed as they continued their investigation, but Eden already knew the cause.  It explained the faces, the creeping darkness, and the overwhelming despair that gripped Cynthia like a vice. Eden¡¯s fingers twitched in irritation at the thought of her brother¡¯s meddling.


    She paced the room, glancing back at Cynthia¡¯s sleeping form. ¡°How could something so precious to him end up entangled in this mess?¡± she wondered aloud. ¡°And yet¡­ there¡¯s no easy fix. Maxwell wouldn¡¯t want her dead.  But what happens when she can¡¯t control this any longer?¡±


    The fireflies began to dissipate, their faint light scattering as they returned to Eden. She stood at the edge of the bed, a frown etched on her face as she stared down at the sleeping girl, whose fate seemed more twisted with each passing moment.


    ¡°Well, Maxwell,¡± she whispered into the dim light, ¡°I hope you¡¯re ready for the storm that¡¯s coming. Because this girl¡­she¡¯s not just cursed. She¡¯s a time bomb. And when she goes off¡­ even you might not be able to save her.¡±


    Eden turned and vanished as silently as she had come, leaving Cynthia in the flickering shadows of her room, where the curse still lurked, waiting patiently for its next opportunity to strike.

 Chapter 51-Chainsaw and Shotgun

    The days passed quickly; before they knew it, October 2nd had arrived¡ªthe eve of the highly anticipated joint training event. The air in the classroom was thick with a mixture of excitement and tension as Mrs. Stone stood at the front, marking attendance.


    A subtle but unmistakable chill ran down Iris''s spine when she called out for Anya. The sound of that name grated on her, a reminder of the strange tension between them. Anya, with her calm demeanor and seamless integration into the class, made Iris''s skin crawl. How does she blend in so perfectly? Iris thought, her irritation simmering beneath the surface. Anya, the pretender, had wormed her way into the fabric of their group, and it gnawed at Iris¡¯s nerves.


    ¡°Now, as you all know,¡± Mrs. Stone began, her voice commanding attention, ¡°tomorrow is the joint training event. However, we do have one more student than the class you''ll be competing against. As such, one of you will need to sit out.¡±


    Before anyone could respond, Iris leaned back in her chair, muttering under her breath, ¡°Probably because of Anya.¡± Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced toward the girl, her discontent thinly veiled.


    Across the room, Xavier, who had been slumped over his desk for most of the morning, groaned softly and lifted his head just enough to speak. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯d like to sit out,¡± he mumbled, barely audible, as he let his forehead fall back onto the desk with a quiet thud.


    Mrs. Stone''s sigh carried the weight of inevitability. ¡°I had a feeling you''d volunteer, Xavier.¡± Her voice was laced with exasperation as if she had already gone through this routine countless times. She rubbed her temple as though soothing a headache. ¡°However,¡± she added, her tone firmer now, ¡°I¡¯d like you to participate in this event. You need the experience.¡±


    Xavier mumbled an indistinct ¡°Okay¡­¡± before letting his head droop back onto the desk, as if the conversation had drained him of what little energy he had.


    Mrs. Stone''s gaze swept across the room, landing on two particular students. ¡°Since Anya and Jacob possess similar abilities, one of you should sit out for this event,¡± she suggested, her eyes flicking between them.


    Iris couldn¡¯t help but mutter under her breath, her voice laced with sarcasm. ¡°On one hand, I don¡¯t want Anya to participate. On the other, I¡¯d really enjoy watching her get hit with a dodgeball.¡± Her glare shot towards Anya, the disdain in her eyes sharp enough to cut glass.


    Jacob raised his hand in a gesture of casual surrender. ¡°It''s fine. I can sit out,¡± he said with a cheerful tone, unfazed by the tense atmosphere. ¡°Anya¡¯s better at using her ability anyway.¡± He flashed a quick smile at Anya, who returned it gratefully.


    ¡°Thank you, Jacob,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, a hint of relief in her voice. ¡°Well, I hope you¡¯re all excited for tomorrow¡¯s event.¡±


    Anya¡¯s hand shot up as she spoke up. ¡°Since my ability requires certain equipment, am I allowed to bring any?¡± she asked with polite optimism.


    ¡°Unfortunately, that won¡¯t be permitted,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯ll have to make do without it. I¡¯m sorry if that makes things difficult for you.¡±


    Anya¡¯s expression didn¡¯t falter. ¡°I¡¯ll make it work,¡± she said with a bright smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    As the class dispersed, Iris was packing her things quickly, eager to get away. But before she could make her exit, she felt a gentle tug on her arm. She turned to see Anya standing there, her usual cheery demeanor tinged with something else¡ªdetermination.


    ¡°Excuse me, Iris. Do you think we could talk, alone?¡± Anya requested, her tone sweet but firm.


    Iris plastered a fake smile on her face. ¡°I¡¯m a bit busy. I don¡¯t think I can,¡± she replied, already inching toward the door.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it will be quick,¡± Anya insisted, her grip tightening as she pulled Iris along.


    ¡°Wait¡ªwhat are you¡ª¡± Iris protested, but her words were cut short as Anya dragged her into an empty classroom. The door slammed shut behind them, and a faint purple glow emanated from a ring on Anya¡¯s finger, expanding into a shimmering barrier that encased the room.


    Anya¡¯s expression shifted, her cheerful demeanor hardening into something more calculating. ¡°Good. Now we won¡¯t be disturbed,¡± she said, her voice calm and steady. Her eyes gleamed with a hidden edge as she met Iris¡¯s gaze. ¡°You know, don¡¯t you? That I¡¯m not supposed to be here.¡±


    Iris¡¯s fists clenched, flames flickering around her fingers like serpents ready to strike. ¡°Of course I do, you liar.¡±


    Anya didn¡¯t flinch at the accusation; in fact, she seemed almost amused. ¡°I just want you to know that I have no ill will toward you,¡± she said, a smile curling at the corner of her lips. ¡°So let¡¯s keep things civil, shall we?¡±


    But Iris¡¯s glare burned hotter than the flames that now licked up her arms. ¡°Civil?¡± she spat, her voice trembling with rage. ¡°There¡¯s nothing civil about this! I have nothing but hatred for you¡ªespecially for your father. That murderer killed my parents.¡± Her flames roared to life, casting the room in an ominous glow.


    For a moment, Anya''s expression remained serene, but then her smile turned sharp, her eyes glittering with something darker. ¡°Oh, wow,¡± she said, her tone dripping with mock admiration. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you found that out, but I¡¯m impressed.¡± There was a malicious glint in her eye as she took a step closer, unbothered by the heat radiating from Iris¡¯s body. ¡°Though, I suppose you always did have a knack for uncovering secrets you shouldn''t.¡±


    Anya¡¯s laughter was laced with an unsettling mix of amusement and condescension. ¡°You¡¯re as clever as your father was,¡± she chuckled, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief.


    Iris''s flames flared brighter, the heat in the room rising noticeably. ¡°What do you mean? He died when I was a child.¡± Her voice trembled with barely restrained fury.


    ¡°Oh, oops,¡± Anya said, her smile widening as if savoring the slip. ¡°Looks like I let something slip that I shouldn¡¯t have.¡± There was a glint of cruelty in her gaze, taunting Iris to push further.


    Iris¡¯s anger burned hotter, the flames roaring like an inferno around her. ¡°Tell me what you know,¡± she demanded, her voice trembling with rage.


    Anya''s grin only grew more sinister. ¡°So violent, Iris. How about this? If you beat me in a fight, I might just tell you everything.¡± Her earring pulsed with an azure light, casting the room in an ethereal glow as reality seemed to twist around her.


    In an instant, mechanical creations and a chainsaw materialized around Anya, hovering ominously in the air. There were six in total, twisting mechanical limbs, floating hands with sharpened fingers, and a gleaming chainsaw gripped tightly in her hands. The disembodied hands pointed toward Iris, fingers poised as if ready to snap.


    ¡°Care to take your chances?¡± Anya taunted, revving the chainsaw. Its metallic whine filled the air, blending with the hum of the floating hands as they began to charge up with energy.


    Without waiting for a response, the fingers of the mechanical hands snapped into position, unleashing a volley of laser beams that streaked toward Iris, burning with deadly precision.


    Iris reacted instinctively, conjuring a bow of living flame in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she drew back on the fiery string, releasing a barrage of blazing arrows. The arrows met the laser blasts midair, erupting into a series of miniature explosions that rocked the room. The shockwaves rattled the walls, the lights flickering overhead as heat and energy collided in a dazzling display of power.


    The force of the blast pushed Iris back a step, but she held her ground, her eyes locked on Anya¡¯s smug expression. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± Iris spat, her voice steady despite the firestorm raging around her.


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    Anya''s chainsaw roared louder as she lunged forward, her movements swift and precise. She slashed downward with a vicious arc, aiming for Iris''s shoulder. But Iris was quicker, sidestepping the attack and sending a torrent of flame toward Anya''s side. The searing heat licked at Anya''s skin, but she twirled away with a dancer''s grace, barely sang.


    The mechanical hands circled Iris like vultures, preparing to unleash another assault. Their fingers morphed into blades this time, slicing through the air toward her. Iris twirled her bow, transforming it into a blazing shield. Sparks flew as the blades clashed against the barrier of fire, but they kept coming, relentless in their assault.


    ¡°Come on, Iris!¡± Anya shouted over the chaos. ¡°Show me what that anger is really worth!¡± Her taunt echoed in the room, carried by the sizzling heat of their battle.


    Iris¡¯s eyes narrowed as she focused on the malicious glint in Anya¡¯s gaze. She summoned all her strength, the surrounding flames intensifying into a fiery maelstrom. With a roar, she lashed out, sending a shockwave of fire spiraling toward her opponent.


    The room crackled with volatile energy as the two combatants pushed their abilities to the limit. The mechanical hands darted back and forth, firing off precise beams of light to intercept the streams of fire that Iris launched, creating a chaotic dance of burning embers and flashing lasers that lit up the classroom.


    Anya¡¯s chainsaw shrieked through the air, its blades tearing a path downward in a vicious arc. Iris twisted her body just in time, the serrated teeth of the weapon grazing past her shoulder as she dodged to the side. She retaliated instantly, conjuring another set of flaming arrows that flew toward Anya¡¯s chest with deadly accuracy.


    Anya deflected them with the spinning chainsaw, the arrows dissolving into sparks as they collided with the rotating blade. ¡°Nice try,¡± she sneered, her eyes glinting with excitement. ¡°But you¡¯ll need to do better than that!¡±


    The mechanical hands reconfigured, their laser-emitting fingers folding back to reveal claws that extended like talons. They darted toward Iris, their movements erratic and unpredictable, seeking any opening to pierce through her defenses. Iris spun, conjuring a fiery vortex around herself, incinerating two of the claws before they could reach her. The remaining hands pulled back, hovering ominously as they began charging up for another attack.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll just have to burn through all your tricks,¡± Iris shouted, her voice steady and defiant. She gripped her flaming bow tighter, the fire intensifying as she drew back the string. As she formed a large, spiraling bolt of fire, one that crackled with a searing heat that threatened to melt the very air around it.


    ¡°Try it!¡± Anya yelled, her chainsaw revving even louder in response. She extended her free hand, and a glowing barrier sprang up around her, translucent and shimmering with a faint azure light. She thrust the chainsaw forward, aiming to disrupt the fiery bolt¡¯s trajectory before it could hit.


    Iris released the bolt, and it streaked toward Anya like a comet, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Anya braced herself behind the barrier, but the impact was far more forceful than she expected. The fiery bolt shattered the protective field on contact, sending cracks spider-webbing outward as it pushed against Anya¡¯s defenses. The force sent Anya stumbling back, her chainsaw flaring and sputtering as it absorbed the excess heat.


    Seizing the opportunity, Iris surged forward with a burst of speed, flames coiling around her arms like serpents. She aimed a burning fist at Anya¡¯s midsection, intending to drive the air from her lungs with a single blow. But as she closed the distance, one of the floating mechanical hands intervened, wrapping its claws around Iris¡¯s arm and yanking her off-balance.


    Iris snarled as the hand tightened its grip, heat pulsing from her skin as she attempted to burn her way free. The metal of the hand began to glow red-hot, but Anya was already moving, swinging the chainsaw down in a deadly arc toward Iris¡¯s exposed back.


    Iris twisted her body at the last moment, thrusting a wave of flame between herself and the chainsaw. The intense heat forced Anya to pull back, her chainsaw hissing as the metal steamed from the sudden temperature change.


    Iris barely managed to twist her body away as Anya''s chainsaw buzzed dangerously close, but the sudden appearance of thick vines bursting through the walls shattered the tension. The greenery tore through the room with startling force, shattering the barrier Anya had set up and sending cracks spider-webbing across the floor. Vibrant flowers bloomed along the snaking vines, their petals contrasting with the charred, smoky atmosphere left behind by Iris''s flames.


    The vines moved with startling speed, wrapping tightly around both Iris and Anya before they could react. Iris struggled against the rough coils that squeezed her arms and torso, while Anya¡¯s chainsaw was wrenched from her grasp, the weapon clattering uselessly to the ground as it was enveloped by the creeping vegetation. The floating hands fared no better, as the vines coiled around them, crushing the mechanical limbs to scrap.


    A figure stepped through the now-ruined wall, his silhouette framed by the swaying vines. Jonathan emerged, his expression one of stern disapproval as he regarded the chaotic scene before him.


    ¡°What in the world is happening here?¡± Jonathan''s voice was low, yet it carried a weight that silenced both combatants instantly.


    ¡°Oh, you know, just playing around,¡± Anya replied with a mischievous smirk, her tone far too casual for someone who had been wielding a chainsaw moments ago. She shot a wink in Iris''s direction. ¡°Right, Iris?¡±


    Iris hesitated, her breath still coming in short bursts from the intensity of the fight. ¡°Yeah¡­ just¡­ a little sparring,¡± she said, though her voice lacked conviction.


    Jonathan''s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting between the two. ¡°Really? Is that so?¡± he said dryly. ¡°I must have missed the memo about children playing with chainsaws and setting the room on fire.¡±


    Iris tensed, glancing down at the vines still wrapped around her. ¡°Should I just burn my way out of these?¡± she asked, her voice sharp with impatience.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± Anya cut in quickly, her tone shifting to one of caution. ¡°Trust me, Jonathan¡¯s way stronger than either of us. You¡¯d only make things worse.¡±


    Jonathan''s eyes narrowed. ¡°I¡¯ve let your previous¡­ incidents slide, Iris,¡± he said, his voice cold and commanding. ¡°But this is the last time, countless reckless use of abilities, and Anya, trying to slice someone up with a chainsaw¡ªis where I draw the line.¡±


    Iris''s expression fell, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. ¡°You knew about the other times?¡± she muttered, her shoulders slumping slightly.


    ¡°Of course, I knew,¡± Jonathan replied, a hint of disappointment coloring his words. ¡°You¡¯re not as subtle as you think. And now, both of you are coming with me. To detention.¡±


    The vines tightened their grip, pulling Iris and Anya toward the door as Jonathan turned on his heel to lead them away. Iris twisted in the vines¡¯ hold, her temper flaring as she glared at Anya.


    ¡°Next time I get a chance,¡± she hissed, ¡°I¡¯m blasting you with my flames.¡±


    Anya¡¯s eyes glinted with a dangerous amusement. ¡°Oh, please do,¡± she shot back. ¡°Because when you do, I''ll be ready to slice you apart.¡±


    Jonathan stopped in his tracks and turned back to them, rubbing his temples in exasperation. ¡°Enough,¡± he snapped. ¡°Could you stop trying to kill each other? You¡¯re already in enough trouble as it is.¡±


    The vines continued to drag them along, their grip unyielding, as the two girls exchanged heated glares. The flowers on the vines seemed to sway gently, almost mocking in their calmness amidst the tension.


    Iris fumed silently, her thoughts racing. She hadn¡¯t expected Jonathan to show up, and now her frustration was compounded by the fact that she¡¯d been caught. Anya, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, even humming softly as if the whole ordeal was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.


    The detention room felt stifling, a stark contrast to the chaos of the fight earlier. It looked like an ordinary classroom on the surface, desks lined in neat rows, fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow¡ªbut the atmosphere was far from normal. Jonathan had practically tossed Iris and Anya inside before slamming the door shut behind them, the lock clicking with a note of finality.


    ¡°Anastasia, keep an eye on them,¡± Jonathan said with a hint of irritation as he turned to leave. ¡°They¡¯re not going anywhere for the next few hours.¡±


    At the front of the room sat Anastasia, her presence immediately commanding the attention of the two girls. She had long purple hair styled into twin pigtails, each adorned with bright ribbons that seemed out of place against the streak of blonde running through her hair. Her cyan eyes glinted with detached amusement, though the spider tattoo on her neck suggested something far more dangerous beneath the surface. She wore a tight-fitting red dress, her feet kicked up onto the teacher¡¯s desk with a casualness that bordered on menacing. Scattered across the desk and floor were a small arsenal of weapons¡ªpistols, rifles, and even a sawed-off shotgun, all within easy reach.


    Anastasia glanced up from the magazine she was reading and scowled. ¡°Just when I was about to take a smoke break,¡± she grumbled. Her voice was rough around the edges, like someone who had seen too much. ¡°Take a seat, brats. Don¡¯t make me repeat myself.¡±


    The threat was clear, and Iris and Anya complied without hesitation, sliding into two chairs near the front. They exchanged a wary glance, any thoughts of causing more trouble quickly evaporating under Anastasia''s watchful gaze.


    The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of pages as Anastasia continued to flip through her magazine. Then Anya, ever the risk-taker, tentatively raised her hand. ¡°Uh, excuse me, can I¡ª¡±


    Before she could even finish the question, Anastasia''s hand moved like lightning, drawing a pistol and firing a shot. The bullet whizzed past Anya''s ear, embedding itself in the wall with a dull thud. Anya froze, her face pale as she stared at the tiny hole in the plaster.


    ¡°No talking,¡± Anastasia said coldly, still holding the smoking gun steady. Her eyes never left her magazine as she added, ¡°Unless you want me to start aiming a little closer. Sit down, shut up, and wait for Jonathan to come back. Understood?¡±


    Iris and Anya exchanged a quick, tense glance before nodding, their faces pale. As they sank back into their chairs, a single thought echoed between them¡ªescape. Somehow, someway, they needed to find a way out of this place before it swallowed them whole.

 Chapter 52-Detention

    Jonathan sat in his office, shuffling through a stack of paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. The steady hum of the building provided a muted backdrop, the peace abruptly shattered as the door flew open. Mrs. Stone burst in, her expression a storm of barely restrained fury.


    ¡°Oh, Mia, what a pleasant surprise,¡± Jonathan greeted her with a warm smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes. He didn''t flinch as she marched forward, conjuring a blade of water that hovered threateningly near his neck.


    ¡°Why the hell did you send two of my students to detention with that lunatic?¡± Mia snapped, her voice seething with outrage. ¡°Anastasia is unstable! You know what she''s capable of.¡±


    Jonathan leaned back in his chair, his smile never wavering. ¡°They were caught engaging in destructive behavior,¡± he explained calmly. ¡°This is the third time Iris has decided to redecorate a room with fire. And as for Anya¡ªwell, she had a chainsaw. Still trying to figure out where she got it.¡±


    Mia¡¯s grip on the water blade tightened, her gaze boring into Jonathan. ¡°You don''t pay me enough for this nonsense,¡± she muttered.


    In response, the various venus flytraps dotting the room began to stir, their thick stems shifting as the large, toothed mouths opened wide, an unspoken threat in their silent movements.


    ¡°Careful, Mia,¡± Jonathan said, a hint of a taunt creeping into his tone. ¡°You know how my plants feel when you start talking about pay raises.¡±


    Mia gritted her teeth, her water blade flickering. ¡°Just let them out, Jonathan. A couple of hours in a room with that psycho isn''t something kids should go through. Not even Iris and Anya deserve that.¡±


    He chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°I''ll let them out¡­ in an hour or two. After they''ve had some time to cool off.¡±


    Mia''s jaw tightened, and she lowered her weapon, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. ¡°Fine. If you won¡¯t listen to me, then I''ll find someone you will listen to,¡± she spat, turning on her heel and storming out of the office.


    Jonathan¡¯s smile faded slightly as the door slammed behind her, his eyes drifting back to the paperwork scattered across his desk.


    Mia stormed into Wallace¡¯s office with a force that nearly took the door off its hinges. The loud bang echoed through the room, startling Wallace awake from his nap at his cluttered desk. Papers fluttered to the ground as he jolted up, bleary-eyed, while Markus, who was lounging on the other side of the room, engrossed in his portable game console, chuckled at the sudden chaos.


    ¡°Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,¡± Mia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she conjured a swirling ball of water and hurled it at Wallace¡¯s face. The splash snapped him fully awake, soaking his shirt and drenching the stack of paperwork on his desk.


    ¡°What the hell was that for?¡± Wallace groaned, shaking water from his hair as he glared at her.


    Mia didn¡¯t waste a second. ¡°I need your help. Jonathan''s being a complete ass,¡± she said bluntly, folding her arms in frustration.


    Markus paused his game and hopped down from his perch, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°Finally! I¡¯d love an excuse to punch that tree-hugging bastard,¡± he said, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.


    ¡°You¡¯re way too eager for this kind of thing,¡± Wallace sighed, grabbing a towel from a nearby chair to dry his face. ¡°What did Jonathan do this time?¡±


    ¡°He threw two of my students in detention,¡± Mia began, pacing the length of the room. ¡°And you can probably guess who¡¯s watching them.¡±


    Wallace rubbed his temples, a weary groan escaping him. ¡°Anastasia. Of course. That trigger-happy psycho is still working here?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s more unhinged than ever, and Jonathan says he¡¯s keeping the kids locked up for at least an hour,¡± Mia continued, the tension in her voice climbing with every word.


    Wallace dropped the towel, a frown deepening on his face. ¡°Those kids shouldn''t have to deal with an hour with her; they¡¯ll need therapy after five minutes.¡±


    ¡°Enough talking,¡± Markus interjected, already halfway out the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go punch some sense into that smug plant freak.¡±


    With a resigned sigh, Wallace pushed himself up from his chair and followed after him. ¡°At the very least, we¡¯re going to get an explanation out of him. And if that means knocking some sense into Jonathan along the way¡­ well, so be it.¡±


    Mia smirked and strode after them. ¡°Finally, some teamwork around here.¡±


    The tension in the detention room crackled like static electricity as Iris and Anya exchanged a glance. Despite the mutual animosity that burned between them, an unspoken understanding passed through the air, they had to work together if they were going to escape.


    Anastasia sat at the front, engrossed in her magazine, her eyes flickering up occasionally to watch them. Iris conjured a small, flickering flame at the tip of her finger, and with a subtle nod toward Anastasia, she gestured, silently asking if she should make a move.


    Anya gave a quick, approving nod, and reached into her earring, pulling out a tiny grenade. The metallic object glinted ominously in her palm as she pulled the pin, her eyes locked on their captor.


    In perfect unison, Iris flung the rapidly expanding fireball, while Anya hurled the grenade. The two projectiles arced through the air, their combined force aimed straight at Anastasia. But just as the attacks closed in, Anastasia¡¯s head tilted ever so slightly, her eyes glowing with a sharp, vivid light.


    The room erupted in a chaotic blast of fire and smoke as Anastasia''s pistols appeared in her hands, seemingly from nowhere. Her fingers moved like lightning, firing two perfectly placed shots that detonated the fireball and grenade midair, filling the room with a blinding flash and a deafening roar. The smell of gunpowder and smoke filled the air as shards of metal and embers rained down harmlessly around her.


    When the haze cleared, Anastasia¡¯s glowing eyes pierced through the dissipating smoke, her gaze fixed on the two troublemakers. ¡°My ability lets me see a few seconds into the future anytime an attack is directed at me,¡± she said, her voice calm and unsettlingly cheerful, as if she were discussing the weather. ¡°So if you two think you can surprise me, you¡¯ve got another thing coming.¡±


    She slowly leveled her pistols at the girls, her fingers resting on the triggers. ¡°Now, listen up. Not another word, and definitely no more escape attempts,¡± she warned, her tone hardening. ¡°Otherwise, we¡¯re going to have a much less pleasant conversation.¡±


    For a moment, the room was silent as Iris and Anya seemed to weigh their options. But instead of backing down, they steeled their resolve. Iris¡¯s fiery bow materialized in her hands, flames licking up its length, while Anya¡¯s earring shimmered again, releasing another weapon¡ªa sleek, silver chainsaw that roared to life as she gripped its handle.


    Anastasia''s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a wicked grin. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re bold,¡± she murmured, setting aside her magazine with a casual flick of her wrist. ¡°Fine then. If it¡¯s a fight you want, let¡¯s make this interesting.¡±


    The room was alive with tension and the echo of clashing wills. Anya lunged forward, the roar of her chainsaw filling the air as she aimed for Anastasia¡¯s midsection. The weapon¡¯s metallic teeth glinted hungrily as they spun, but Anastasia sidestepped the attack with a fluid grace, her smirk never fading.


    "Too slow," Anastasia teased, her voice dripping with amusement. Without missing a beat, she whirled around, her pistols already trained on Iris, who was taking aim with her flaming bow.


    Iris unleashed a barrage of fiery arrows, each one leaving a blazing trail in the air. Anastasia darted and weaved through the onslaught, her movements so quick and precise that it seemed like she was one step ahead of each shot. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since someone tried to escape from detention,¡± Anastasia laughed, her voice a blend of thrill and condescension.


    She landed on her feet and raised both pistols, aiming directly at Iris and Anya. The twin barrels gleamed as she squeezed the triggers.


    Iris summoned a shield of flames just in time, the bullets sizzling and evaporating against the intense heat. But Anya wasn''t as fortunate; one shot struck her square in the forehead. The impact sent a jolt of pain radiating through her skull, making her stagger back momentarily.


    A red mark appeared where the bullet had struck, but there was no blood, no break in the skin. The pain was searing, as if she''d been branded.


    ¡°Did you really think I¡¯d kill a child?¡± Anastasia taunted, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. ¡°These guns are designed to cause only immense pain¡ªno bleeding, no wounds, just agony. I like to keep things clean.¡± Her voice dripped with mock concern, as if chastising them for expecting anything less.


    Anya¡¯s expression didn¡¯t falter. Ignoring the stinging sensation in her head, she gripped the chainsaw tighter, revving it up again. "I don¡¯t care what kind of tricks your guns have," she spat, rushing forward with renewed ferocity.


    At the same time, Iris let loose another barrage of arrows, this time spreading them out to create a wide, fiery net. The heat intensified, warping the air around them. Anya zigzagged toward Anastasia, closing the distance while using Iris''s arrows as cover.


    Anastasia''s eyes flickered, her ability kicking in as she foresaw the trajectory of each arrow. She flipped over one, sidestepped another, then fired a shot at Anya¡¯s leg to disrupt her approach. The bullet hit, sending a jolt of pain through Anya¡¯s thigh, but it didn¡¯t stop her. She pressed on, gritting her teeth as she swung the chainsaw in a sweeping arc aimed at Anastasia''s midsection.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    With a quick twist, Anastasia used the barrel of one pistol to parry the chainsaw, the screech of metal-on-metal ringing out as sparks flew. At the same time, she aimed her other pistol at Iris, who was preparing to unleash another fiery assault. The two were relentless, and Anastasia couldn¡¯t help but grin at their determination.


    As Anya pushed forward with her chainsaw, Anastasia gave a powerful kick, sending her stumbling back just enough for Iris to line up another shot. Flaming arrows whistled through the air, forcing Anastasia to shift her focus and dodge once more, but it was clear that they were pushing her further on the defensive.


    The fight pressed on as the air thickened with tension, the smoke from Anastasia¡¯s earlier bomb still hanging in the room, dissipating slowly. Anastasia twirled her pistols, laughing as she kept her eyes locked on the two girls.


    ¡°You two are fun, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± she said with a sneer. ¡°I¡¯ve heard Markus has been subbing in for your combat teacher, poor things. Maybe I should take the job, Johnny might agree if I ask nicely.¡±


    Iris and Anya exchanged a brief, tense glance. They weren¡¯t just outmatched in strength¡ªthey were dealing with someone who had clearly seen more combat than either of them. As if to emphasize the point, Anastasia pulled out a smoke bomb from her pocket, hurling it in their direction. In the blink of an eye, she shot it midair, causing the bomb to explode prematurely, filling the room with thick, choking smoke.


    Blinded, Iris barely had time to react before she felt a sudden, brutal impact in her gut. Anastasia¡¯s fist connected with a force that knocked the wind out of her lungs, sending her crumpling to the ground, gasping for air. Before she could even try to recover, Anastasia stood over her, the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against her temple.


    But Anastasia wasn¡¯t content just with Iris. Her eyes glowed faintly as her ability activated, scanning the room in third-person vision. She could see exactly where Anya was lurking through the fog, trying to remain hidden. In an instant, Anastasia was on the move again, firing rapid shots into Anya''s legs. The stinging pain forced Anya to collapse, her legs too weak to support her.


    As the smoke finally began to clear, Anastasia stood tall over both girls, laughing maniacally.


    Iris, still on the ground, managed a pained grunt, ¡°Where was this psycho when the facility got attacked?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I may have faked being sick to go to a concert,¡± Anastasia responded, flashing a thumbs-up as if this were the most normal excuse in the world.


    Iris and Anya groaned in unison, ¡°Unbelievable.¡±


    But the fight wasn¡¯t over. Both girls forced themselves back to their feet. Anya, undeterred by the pain in her legs, stashed the chainsaw back into her earring and withdrew a new weapon: a pair of gauntlets, sleeker and smaller than the floating hands she had been using earlier.


    ¡°I wonder where a brat like you gets such a handy subspace artifact,¡± Anastasia remarked, eyeing the earring warily. Without hesitation, she aimed her pistol and shot at Anya¡¯s ear, knocking the earring clean off.


    Before Anya could react, Anastasia dashed forward and crushed the earring beneath her boot, twisting her foot into the ground. ¡°No more items for you.¡±


    Anya cursed under her breath as she quickly backed away, her gauntlets crackling with energy. Meanwhile, Iris conjured her flame bow again, reigniting her arrows, and preparing for the next strike.


    Anastasia, unbothered, continued firing her pistols. The shots echoed through the room, each bullet forcing Anya and Iris on the defensive. The girls tried to dodge, but Anastasia¡¯s shots seemed endless.


    ¡°Does she ever run out of ammo?¡± Anya groaned as she deflected a bullet with one of her gauntlets.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Anastasia said with a gleeful laugh, twirling both pistols again. ¡°These beauties? Subspace artifacts in all of them. Infinite ammo. I could keep shooting until you two finally pass out from exhaustion.¡±


    Iris gritted her teeth, unleashing a volley of flaming arrows. ¡°We¡¯re not giving up that easily!¡±


    The arrows streaked through the air, creating a fiery wall between Anastasia and them. Anya, seizing the opportunity, launched herself forward, her gauntlets sparking with energy. She aimed a powerful punch at Anastasia¡¯s midsection, trying to land a hit that could turn the tide.


    But Anastasia, anticipating the move, sidestepped with ease. ¡°Nice try, but it''s going to take more than that.¡± She fired off another round of bullets, each one sending ripples of pain through the girls, but they pressed on.


    Mia, Markus, and Wallace stormed down the hall toward Jonathan''s office, their footsteps echoing with purpose. As they barged in, they found Jonathan deep in conversation with Baal, who sat on the edge of the desk, his expression unusually warm and affectionate.


    ¡°My beloved, it¡¯s truly a blessing to see you,¡± Baal said, his voice dripping with adoration as he gazed at Mia.


    Mia rolled her eyes, but quickly adjusted her tone, putting on an air of distressed helplessness. ¡°Baal, my dear, could you please help us? Jonathan has thrown two of my students into detention, and I''m just so worried about them.¡± She conjured a watery tear at the corner of her eye for extra effect. ¡°The one supervising that room is a complete psycho.¡±


    Baal¡¯s affectionate expression disappeared, replaced by a cold, seething rage. ¡°Authority of gravity, activate,¡± he commanded. Instantly, the gravity around Jonathan increased tenfold, crushing him down to the floor. The chair he had been sitting on crumpled beneath him, collapsing under the immense weight.


    ¡°How dare you make my future wife cry?¡± Baal snarled, fury blazing in his eyes.


    ¡°We¡¯re not getting mar¡ªactually, you know what? Keep going, I¡¯m so proud of you, my dear fianc¨¦,¡± Mia said with a sly smile.


    Markus, standing off to the side, chuckled quietly. ¡°I wanted to punch him in the face, but watching a Demon King crush him like a tin can is pretty satisfying, too. Nice manipulation skills there, Mia.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t deny,¡± Mia said with a sly wink, ¡°his devotion is kind of cute.¡±


    Jonathan gritted his teeth as the gravitational force increased even more, pinning him against the floor. ¡°Damn demon¡­ Always so dramatic,¡± he spat, his voice strained from the pressure.


    Baal glanced over at Mia, his tone softening as he said, ¡°Don''t worry, my beloved. I¡¯ll make sure he never disrespects you again.¡±


    ¡°Now, listen up, Jonathan,¡± Mia said, her voice turning icy as she stepped forward. ¡°You have three council members against you. Release my students immediately.¡±


    Groaning under the weight, Jonathan struggled to lift his head. ¡°Fine,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll release them. But I¡¯m taking the damages they caused out of your paycheck.¡±


    Baal¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously, and the gravitational force doubled again. Jonathan felt as though the floor itself was swallowing him. ¡°You dare bargain with her?¡± Baal hissed.


    ¡°Okay, okay, I won¡¯t touch the damn paycheck!¡± Jonathan snapped. ¡°Just let me go.¡±


    Baal relented, and the intense gravity dissipated. Jonathan gasped for air as he struggled to his feet, glaring at Mia and Baal. ¡°You two are a real pain,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Keep talking, and I might reconsider letting Baal have some real fun,¡± Mia said with a playful smirk, turning to lead the way. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go get my students out of that detention room.¡±


    The classroom was in utter chaos, scorching marks and debris everywhere, as Iris¡¯s flaming arrows and Anya¡¯s laser blasts scorched and shattered what remained. Despite the relentless barrage, Anastasia moved with effortless grace, evading every attack, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of combat.


    Anya gritted her teeth and lunged forward, swinging a laser-coated fist at Anastasia. With a deft sidestep, Anastasia dodged the blow and fired a quick shot into Anya''s calf, causing her to stumble. Without losing momentum, she spun to face Iris, who was charging in with her bow of flames fully drawn.


    Iris released a fiery arrow aimed straight at Anastasia''s chest. At the last second, Anastasia dropped low, avoiding the flaming projectile by inches, and launched herself up, driving a punch into Iris¡¯s midsection. The impact forced Iris to stagger back, but she quickly shook it off, drawing another arrow as the fire intensified in her hands.


    Anastasia tossed one of her pistols high into the air, her eyes tracking its path as she seamlessly drew another from her arsenal. She pressed the barrel of the second gun against her own temple, triggering her ability to foresee the next few seconds. The future unfolded in rapid flashes, Anya charging, Iris preparing another shot, and the trajectory of the falling pistol.


    With perfect timing, she fired at the airborne gun¡¯s trigger, and the weapon discharged in midair, sending a bullet flying into Anya''s back. Anya gasped in pain, dropping to one knee as the impact coursed through her.


    ¡°I¡¯m just showing off at this point,¡± Anastasia laughed, catching the falling gun mid-drop. She twirled it effortlessly, sending another shot ricocheting off the wall to clip Iris in the leg, causing her to collapse onto one knee.


    Anya struggled to her feet, gritting her teeth. ¡°She¡¯s always one step ahead.¡±


    Iris''s flames flared dangerously, casting a searing glow throughout the wrecked room. ¡°Enough games!¡± she shouted, her voice carrying a note of desperation as she drew upon every ounce of power she had left.


    The temperature skyrocketed, and the walls began to buckle under the intense heat. The air crackled as Iris summoned a massive fireball above her head, while Anya¡¯s gauntlets hummed with fierce energy, preparing to unleash a concentrated laser blast.


    The door burst open, sending splintered wood flying as thick, flower-covered vines surged into the room, wrapping around Anya and Iris before they could react. Anastasia expertly dodged the writhing tendrils, watching with a mix of amusement and curiosity as they restrained the exhausted students.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Jonathan declared as he stepped inside, surveying the wreckage. The classroom was nearly unrecognizable, scorched walls, shattered desks, and the lingering heat of Iris''s flames gave the room a chaotic, war-torn appearance. ¡°You¡¯re both free to go¡­ but what in the world happened here?¡±


    Anastasia smirked, holstering her pistols with a casual flourish. ¡°We had some fun, Johnny,¡± she chuckled. ¡°Maybe just a little too much fun.¡±


    ¡°She tried to kill us!¡± Iris snapped, still catching her breath as the vines slowly loosened their grip.


    ¡°Aw, come on,¡± Anastasia said with a dismissive wave. ¡°You¡¯re still standing, aren¡¯t you?¡± Her smile grew wider as she turned back to Jonathan. ¡°Speaking of which, Johnny, I¡¯ve got a little request. I¡¯ve been thinking about a career change. How about making me their permanent combat instructor? It¡¯d be a blast, don¡¯t you think? My combat skills speak for themselves.¡±


    ¡°Don''t do this, she¡¯s insane!¡± Anya interjected, wincing as she rubbed the bruises forming on her legs.


    Jonathan gave the room one last look, weighing the decision for a moment. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll allow it,¡± he finally said, giving a small nod. ¡°But as for you two, head back and get some rest. The joint training exercise is tomorrow, and you¡¯ll need to be in top form.¡±


    He released the vines'' hold on the two girls, who exchanged a wary glance as they stumbled toward the exit, grateful to be leaving.


    ¡°And Anastasia,¡± Jonathan added, his tone sharpening, ¡°consider your pay docked for the damages. This place is a mess.¡±


    Anastasia burst into laughter, tossing her hair back as she shrugged. ¡°Worth every penny,¡± she grinned. ¡°These kids have potential, that much is clear. Prodigies, both of them. Though they could stand to work on their teamwork a little more,¡± she mused. ¡°But overall, they show serious promise.¡±


    Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ¡°High praise coming from you.¡± He gestured toward the door. ¡°Go take your smoke break. There¡¯s plenty of residual fire in the room if you need a light.¡±


    ¡°Don''t mind if I do,¡± Anastasia said with a wink, her laughter echoing as she strolled out of the ravaged classroom, leaving behind the lingering scent of gunpowder and smoke.

 Chapter 53-Queens Garden

    As Iris stepped into her dorm room, the atmosphere felt charged, heavy with a heat that pulsed from the air itself. Her gaze immediately fell on the red book resting on her desk. Around it, orange flaming butterflies fluttered in an erratic dance, their wings crackling like miniature bonfires. The familiar sight signaled another letter from her future self, but something was distinctly different this time. The butterflies burned with an intensity that went beyond the norm, their fiery glow flaring up in harsh bursts, as if each flutter of their wings carried a suppressed rage. The heat they radiated was palpable, almost stifling, prickling her skin even from across the room.


    Iris approached cautiously, her fingers twitching with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Her instincts screamed at her to be careful, to prepare for something far more urgent than the usual cryptic warnings. As she reached the book, she noticed that the butterflies¡¯ paths were less graceful than before; they darted sharply, as though agitated by an unseen force.


    With a steadying breath, Iris reached out and flipped open the red book, bracing herself for whatever message awaited inside. The page didn¡¯t just glow¡ªit flared, an eruption of light spilling from the ink as if it, too, shared in the butterflies'' fury. Her eyes scanned the page, absorbing the hastily scrawled words that seemed to seethe off the paper.


    The flames danced across the page, flickering angrily as Iris read the letter from her future self. Each word seemed to smolder, dripping with frustration and a touch of disbelief.


    ¡°You absolute idiot. Never, in any version of my life, was I ever sent to detention. I can''t believe this. How could you let this happen? If I could reach back through time, I¡¯d strangle some sense into you! I¡¯ve heard horror stories about that place¡ªmostly from Charles, but to actually end up there? It¡¯s almost embarrassing. When I had that same confrontation, I didn¡¯t get into a fight like some reckless hothead!¡±


    The next lines were written with a more measured hand, as though her future self had taken a moment to calm down.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I got a bit carried away. It¡¯s not entirely your fault. If I hadn¡¯t told you about Anya¡¯s true identity, you probably wouldn¡¯t have been so on edge around her. Though I have to admit, I¡¯m a bit worried now that you''ve ended up with that psycho as your new teacher. Anastasia¡¯s combat skills are legendary, and you¡¯ll learn a lot, there¡¯s no denying that, but just watch your back. She doesn¡¯t know the meaning of holding back.¡±


    The flames on the edge of the page flared up momentarily before settling back down, leaving a slight scorch mark along the bottom of the letter.


    ¡°Now, about tomorrow¡¯s Joint Training Event. Just go into it with an open mind and try to have some fun. When I went through it, there were no incidents, aside from our class getting crushed. But more importantly, try to make a good impression on Maxwell. Trust me when I say, that might be more important than you realize.¡±


    The final lines were written in an elegant, looping script, as if her future self was putting extra emphasis on the closing words.


    ¡°Good luck, my past self. Remember, every decision you make shapes us both.¡±


    ¡°¡ªYour future self, Iris Blackwell.¡±


    The flickering flames that had danced so vividly around the letter died down, leaving behind a faint, smoky heat. Iris could feel an unsettling sense of urgency radiating from the final words of her future self. It was as if the letter wasn''t just a warning but a desperate attempt to reach out through time.


    Meanwhile, far in the future, the air was thick with tension. Future Iris sat within the confines of her gilded birdcage, her eyes burning with both defiance and exhaustion. She had just finished the letter to her past self. The moment her task was complete, she could feel his eyes upon her, hungry, amused, and maddeningly calm.


    The red-haired demon, lounged against the bars of her cage, his expression a mockery of delight. His fanged grin stretched wide as he watched her closely, a vicious gleam flickering behind his eyes.


    ¡°Do you really believe that, Iris? That there will be no incidents at the Joint Training tomorrow?¡± he asked, his voice dripping with twisted amusement.


    Her fiery gaze snapped up to meet his. ¡°What do you mean by that, you damned devil?¡± she growled, her voice laced with suspicion.


    Devil''s smile widened, a malicious glint flashing across his face. ¡°Tell me, what do you remember about the Queen''s Garden?¡±


    Future Iris narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why are you asking about them now?¡± she spat. ¡°They were a band of villains who went on a bloody rampage when the cataclysm began. Every single one of them became Awakened after the Tokyo Incident. They left a trail of corpses everywhere they went.¡± Her voice dripped with venom as she continued, the memories surging back like a dark tide.


    Devil leaned in closer, his voice a smooth, poisonous whisper. ¡°Good. Now, list them off for me, each member. Your memory is quite impeccable, after all.¡±


    She rolled her eyes, but a deep-seated unease quickly overshadowed the irritation. ¡°Fine,¡± she began. ¡°First, there was Noah, the Poisoner. That wretch spread pestilence and death like wildfire, wiping out entire cities. Then there was Rook, the face-changer. A spy who could slip into any organization and vanish without a trace. He wasn¡¯t as dangerous as the Boogeyman, but he caused enough chaos. Split-Face Sarah was a real challenge¡ªa regenerating menace who could make clones of herself no matter how many times I killed her. Her brother, the vampire Ashe, was even worse, controlling hordes of ghouls that seemed endless.¡±


    She paused, the memories stinging like an old wound reopened. ¡°But the worst was their leader, Cynthia. Dead-Face Cynthia, a walking nightmare. She wasn''t even Awakened, but the curse she carried¡­ it was like death incarnate. Her massacres left behind countless bodies.¡±


    Devil¡¯s grin twisted further into a smirk. ¡°Good, very good,¡± he said, producing a slip of paper seemingly out of thin air. ¡°Now, read the class roster for Maxwell¡¯s class.¡± He handed it to her with a flourish.


    Iris took the paper with a frown, her eyes darting over the names. As she read each one, her blood ran cold, and a terrible realization gripped her. Her hands trembled, igniting the paper in a flare of anger. She leaped to her feet, summoning a blazing sword into her grip, and lunged at the Devil. ¡°What did you do, you bastard?¡± she shouted, slashing at him wildly.


    He dodged with infuriating ease, his movements flowing like water. ¡°I merely made some adjustments to the timeline, Iris,¡± he taunted, his voice a venomous purr. ¡°Maxwell¡¯s class was filled with nobodies, a bunch of background characters that weren¡¯t worth a second glance. I thought I¡¯d spice things up a bit.¡±


    Iris¡¯s eyes blazed as she sent a volley of flaming arrows in his direction. ¡°You¡¯ve turned those future villains into Maxwell''s classmates! Those names¡ªthose are members of the Queen''s Garden! What have you done?¡± she cried, desperation bleeding into her voice.


    Devil laughed, the sound echoing with pure malevolence. ¡°You claimed your wish was to save everyone, Iris. You wanted to be a hero, to change the future, and prevent the tragedies to come. But why limit yourself to just saving your classmates? Why not save the villains, too?¡± His eyes gleamed with wicked delight. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can save the future monsters before they become monsters.¡±


    The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. He had set her on a path where she would face not just the enemies of tomorrow, but the classmates of today, the same friends and allies she would need to protect. Her hands tightened around her fiery blade as she gritted her teeth.


    ¡°You¡¯ve twisted the future into your own sick game,¡± Iris growled, her voice trembling with fury. ¡°But I swear, I will stop you. I will save them all.¡±


    Devil¡¯s laughter reverberated throughout the gilded cage, a haunting symphony of mockery. It echoed long after his voice faded, clinging to the air like a cursed fog. ¡°Then let the game begin, Iris. Let¡¯s see if your resolve burns brighter than fate itself. Oh, and I¡¯d appreciate it if you could call me by my actual name. I¡¯d love to hear it roll off your tongue.¡± His eyes gleamed with a draconic intensity, challenging her to say it.


    ¡°You prideful bastard,¡± she spat, hatred and defiance lacing every syllable.


    He grinned wider, the corners of his lips curling into something almost feral. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Now say it,¡± he coaxed, his voice a low, taunting purr, his crimson eyes boring into her with a sick amusement.


    She gritted her teeth, a venomous glare in her eyes. ¡°Superbia, the Sin of Pride.¡±


    ¡°Good girl,¡± Superbia murmured, a wicked smile spreading across his face. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to pet her head, as if she were nothing more than a caged animal. ¡°Look forward to tomorrow¡¯s festivities. I bet your past self will find it quite¡­ exhilarating,¡± he whispered, his fingers lingering in her hair with a patronizing gentleness. It sent a shiver of disgust down her spine.


    His laughter grew louder, the sound warping into a sinister melody. His crimson hair flowed like wildfire as he spun on his heel, his draconic horns gleaming sharply in the moonlight that seeped through the bars. Scales the color of dried blood rippled across his arm, and his tail, long and coiled, swayed like a serpent. He danced across the confines of the cage, his steps graceful and deliberate, as though mocking her helplessness.


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    ¡°Care to join me for a dance?¡± he asked, extending a clawed hand towards her with a flourish. ¡°Who knows? Tomorrow may be the day your past self meets her end.¡±


    ¡°Go to hell,¡± Iris shot back, her voice a venomous hiss.


    Superbia chuckled, the sound dark and low. ¡°Suit yourself,¡± he said with a casual shrug, his tail flicking idly behind him. ¡°But I wonder¡­ how will you react when your past self dies? When you have to watch everything unravel, helpless to change it?¡± His smile twisted into a smirk, fangs glinting wickedly. ¡°I should warn you, Cynthia will awaken much sooner than last time. I¡¯ve ensured she¡¯ll be quite the early riser.¡±


    The words sent a jolt of alarm through Iris. ¡°You¡¯re lying!¡± she snapped, desperation flickering in her voice despite her defiance.


    ¡°Am I?¡± Superbia¡¯s eyes glowed with sadistic delight as he turned his back to her, waving off her concern as if it were nothing more than a passing breeze. ¡°Sleep well, Iris. You¡¯ll need your strength,¡± he added, his voice echoing like the fading hum of a distant storm. He strutted out of the chamber with an insufferable air of superiority, leaving behind the unsettling stillness and a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity.


    Iris collapsed to her knees, her fists clenched tight enough for her nails to draw blood. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath ragged. She could still feel the weight of his hand on her head, the casual touch of a demon who saw her struggle as mere entertainment.


    But she wouldn¡¯t let him win. No matter what twists and turns lay ahead, she would shatter his cruel game, tear apart the fate he sought to impose upon her.


    The morning began as the students buzzed with anticipation. Iris slipped into her seat, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy in the air. The surrounding chatter was a constant hum, as her classmates eagerly awaited the arrival of the Beta Facility students for the joint training event.


    Mrs. Stone entered the room, her footsteps were soft yet commanding. She glanced around at her lively class and raised a hand to quiet them. ¡°Alright, everyone, settle down,¡± she began, her voice firm but laced with a hint of humor. ¡°In about an hour, our guests from the Beta Facility will be joining us. I hope you¡¯re all prepared.¡±


    She paused, her eyes drifting over to Iris, Anya, and Charles. ¡°Before we continue, Jonathan has asked me to deliver a special message to you three, please stop destroying rooms in the facility.¡± Her gaze lingered on Anya, her brow arched in question. ¡°And Anya¡­ I need to know. Where exactly did you get not one, but two chainsaws?¡±


    Anya¡¯s eyes darted away as she gave a nonchalant whistle, her lips curling into a sly grin. ¡°I, uh, found them?¡± she said, her voice dripping with mischief.


    Mrs. Stone sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. ¡°Of course you did. Well, let me make this perfectly clear, if you must fight each other, do it under teacher supervision. We¡¯re trying to maintain some semblance of order here.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Mrs. Stone. I won¡¯t do it again,¡± Iris offered, sounding sincere.


    ¡°I definitely will,¡± Charles added with a shrug, a mischievous spark in his eye.


    ¡°Yeah, same,¡± Anya chimed in, her tone unapologetic.


    Mrs. Stone shook her head with a sigh. ¡°I suppose one out of three is better than none. You all are a handful, you know that?¡±


    A hand shot up from the back of the room. ¡°Uh, Mrs. Stone, what about me?¡± Jacob asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. ¡°What am I supposed to do while the event¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be on the sidelines, cheering for your classmates,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, giving him an apologetic smile. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s the best I can offer.¡±


    Jacob grinned. ¡°It¡¯s fine! I¡¯m sure our class will win. No contest.¡±


    Across the room, Theo¡¯s voice rumbled with quiet intensity. ¡°If anyone tries to hurt my sister, I¡¯ll crush them,¡± he declared, his gaze unwavering.


    Celia reached over to pat his arm. ¡°Brother, you¡¯re being scary again. Let¡¯s not threaten people before the event even starts,¡± she said, her tone lighthearted but with a hint of concern.


    Amid the exchange, Xavier was slumped over his desk, completely oblivious to the excitement. Mrs. Stone snapped her fingers, conjuring a ball of water that flew across the room, splashing him square in the face.


    Xavier jolted upright, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯m awake,¡± he grumbled, shooting his teacher an annoyed glance.


    Mrs. Stone¡¯s lips curled into a smile as she surveyed the room. ¡°Good, because this event is going to be a lot of fun. But don¡¯t forget to keep your head on straight. There¡¯s more to this than just winning.¡± Her gaze grew thoughtful, as though considering something far beyond the classroom walls. ¡°Today¡¯s going to be¡­ interesting, to say the least.¡±


    A ripple of anticipation spread through the students, the energy in the room intensifying as the clock ticked down to the event. Iris clenched her fist under the desk, the words from her future self¡¯s letter ringing in her ears. She wasn¡¯t sure what to expect, but one thing was certain, whatever happened today, she¡¯d be ready.


    The classroom door burst open with a resounding crash, and Anastasia strutted in, dragging a bulging suitcase behind her. Guns of various sizes jutted out from the hastily packed case, some almost falling to the floor with each step. She wore a pair of sleek black sunglasses, her lips curled into a cocky grin as she waved to the startled students. Without hesitation, she pushed Mrs. Stone aside with a casual shove, eliciting a sharp glare from the older woman.


    "Hello, everyone! I¡¯m your new combat teacher," Anastasia declared cheerfully, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "I¡¯m looking forward to seeing what you all are made of today."


    Mrs. Stone''s expression tightened as she stepped forward, reclaiming her space with a stern look. "Anastasia, leave my classroom. You were supposed to wait in the gym for the event to start," she commanded, her voice cool and unwavering.


    Anastasia chuckled, her grin widening. "Make me. I¡¯d love to see you try," she taunted, raising an eyebrow as if daring Mrs. Stone to act.


    Without missing a beat, Mrs. Stone conjured a slender rapier of swirling water, its liquid form glinting dangerously in the light. "In combat, a quick strike to the neck will end things swiftly," she said, lunging at Anastasia with fluid grace. The watery blade sliced through the air, aimed directly at her throat.


    Anastasia¡¯s eyes flashed as she activated her ability, slipping into a state where the future played out like a vivid picture before her. She sidestepped the rapier with ease, snatching a pistol from her suitcase as she vaulted back. In a split second, she fired at Mrs. Stone, only for the bullets to thud harmlessly into a watery barrier that sprang up between them.


    "Not bad," Anastasia murmured, pulling a second pistol from her hip and aiming it at her own temple, reading the movements yet to come. With a grin, she squeezed the trigger, and the bullets found their mark, striking Mrs. Stone''s leg with pinpoint accuracy.


    Mrs. Stone winced, her leg buckling slightly as she glared at Anastasia. "You¡¯re the worst," she grumbled, her voice strained.


    Anastasia''s laughter echoed through the classroom. "Oh, come on, Mia. Lighten up¡ªwe''re just having a bit of fun," she teased, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and challenge.


    Before Mrs. Stone could respond, Baal strode into the room, his presence instantly filling the space with a suffocating tension. His gaze landed on Mrs. Stone, who was struggling to rise, and his expression darkened. A deadly gleam flickered in his eyes, a warning that made the air grow cold.


    Anastasia''s vision flared as she glimpsed a potential future: Baal¡¯s hand tearing her arm from its socket in a brutal display of rage. The sight was enough to make her blood run cold. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees, the smugness draining from her face as quickly as it had appeared.


    ¡°Please, I was just messing around. Don¡¯t¡ª¡± Her voice trembled as she bowed her head, practically begging.


    Baal¡¯s eyes never left Mrs. Stone as he approached, the intensity in his gaze softening just slightly as he reached out a hand. "Here, let me help you up," he said, his tone gentle and completely at odds with the lethal aura that had filled the room only moments before.


    Mrs. Stone took his hand, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Thank you, Baal," she murmured, a hint of relief seeping into her voice as she steadied herself.


    Meanwhile, in the back of the classroom, Anya whispered to Iris, her eyes wide with awe. "That lady is terrifying, but that guy is even scarier."


    Iris nodded, her breath catching as she exhaled slowly. "Agreed," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She''s a nightmare¡­ but he''s the kind you don''t wake up from."


    The room remained silent for a heartbeat longer, the students acutely aware that they had just witnessed something far more dangerous than a sparring match. As the tension finally began to ease, Anastasia stood up slowly, a forced smile creeping back onto her face, though the glint in her eyes had dulled.


    "Well, class," Anastasia said, dusting herself off and attempting to reclaim her cocky demeanor. "Looks like things just got a little more interesting."


    Mrs. Stone''s gaze remained cool as she addressed the students. "Baal will be staying within the facility until we can find a more suitable arrangement," she announced.


    Baal grinned and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I''m staying right here. There''s no way I''d ever leave my future wife," he declared, his voice brimming with affection.


    Mrs. Stone¡¯s face flushed slightly as she elbowed him in the ribs, her stern expression betraying a hint of embarrassment. "Knock it off. I¡¯m at work," she chided, giving him a light smack on the head.


    "Fine, fine, I''m sorry," Baal said, rubbing the spot where she¡¯d hit him. His smile remained, undeterred.


    Their banter was interrupted as Jonathan entered the room, his presence commanding the attention of the class. "Alright, everyone," he said, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. "Follow me to the gym¡ªthe students from the Beta Facility have arrived."


    Anastasia tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here, Johnny? I figured you''d be too busy to chaperone."


    Jonathan¡¯s eyes flickered with a rare hint of amusement. "I have a special interest in this class," he replied cryptically, motioning for the students to follow him.


    As they entered the gymnasium, the sight before them was almost surreal. At the center of the chaos was a skeleton-like figure seated atop a coffin, casually scrolling through his phone as if the surrounding pandemonium was of no consequence. A boy with pink hair stood nearby, his face twisted into an expression of mild irritation as twin girls darted around him, giggling and teasing each other. Off to the side, a red-haired boy sat with his nose buried in a book, seemingly indifferent to the commotion unfolding around him.


    There was also a blind boy who beamed with a cheerful expression, his eyes unseeing but filled with a strange sense of delight, as if he could feel the energy in the room. A purple-haired girl leaned against the wall, her posture slouched as she looked down, a dark and sickly aura clinging to her like a shadow.


    Finally, Iris''s eyes landed on the last student¡ªa boy with striking orange hair. The moment she saw him, she felt an undeniable pull, a sense that went beyond mere curiosity. It was as if some invisible thread connected the two of them, binding their fates together in a way that transcended the present moment. His gaze met hers, and in that instant, Iris knew that this boy¡ªMaxwell Lumiar, was not just another face in the crowd. He was the other player in the cruel game that fate had cast her into.

 Chapter 54-Crossover

    Maxwell¡¯s gaze found Iris the moment he stepped into the gym. It was as if his instincts screamed that she was the one¡ªhis answer, his ally. There was a strange magnetism about her, a silent pull that gnawed at him from within, urging him to make his move. But another presence demanded his attention. His eyes flicked to Cynthia, standing off to the side. Her normally vibrant demeanor was dulled, a sickly paleness clinging to her as she trembled ever so slightly.


    Something was wrong.


    With deliberate steps, Maxwell approached her, concern tightening his features. ¡°Cynthia, are you sure you''re up for this?¡± he asked, his voice low and steady. ¡°You don¡¯t look well.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s fine,¡± Cynthia stammered, her voice wavering as she struggled to form the words. ¡°I¡¯m fine, really, there¡¯s no need to worry.¡± She clutched her arm tightly to her chest, trying to conceal it.


    But Maxwell had already noticed. He reached out, gently pulling her arm into view. The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. A portion of her skin had darkened and shriveled, taking on a texture like withered leather or dried meat. It was blackened and cracked, as though some corrosive energy was slowly eating away at her. Worse still, the surrounding air seemed to thrum with a malevolent aura, a wrongness that prickled at the edges of his senses.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Maxwell demanded, his eyes narrowing as he examined the afflicted area. ¡°You¡¯re not fine. This isn¡¯t normal.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. She pulled her arm back, almost recoiling from his touch. ¡°Please, don¡¯t say anything,¡± she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m already dragging the class down as it is. Just¡­ don¡¯t tell anyone. Please.¡±


    Maxwell hesitated, his instincts urging him to alert the teachers. Yet, the desperation in her voice struck a chord within him. ¡°Fine,¡± he relented, his tone softening, ¡°I won¡¯t say anything. But I¡¯m telling the teachers after the event.¡±


    Her tense expression loosened, a tear slipping down her cheek as she forced a grateful smile. ¡°Thank you. I promise I won¡¯t be a burden. I won¡¯t hold you all back.¡±


    But even as she spoke, a cold whisper slithered through her mind like a serpent. ¡°Yes, you will. You can¡¯t accomplish anything, you''re a failure.¡± The voice was taunting, malevolent. It echoed in her ears as if the very shadows around her had come alive to mock her. She spun around, expecting to see someone there, but the space behind her was empty¡ªnothing but air.


    Maxwell''s frown deepened as he caught the flicker of unease in her expression. ¡°Are you sure you''re feeling alright?¡± he pressed, his tone a mix of worry and skepticism.


    Cynthia quickly regained her composure, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of fear. ¡°Of course. I''m just tired, that¡¯s all. Don¡¯t worry about me¡ªjust focus on the event.¡±


    Maxwell nodded slowly, though the knot in his stomach tightened. He knew there was more to Cynthia''s condition than she was letting on, but now wasn¡¯t the time to push further. His attention drifted back to Iris, the inexplicable connection between them still burning in the back of his mind.


    Something was coming. He could feel it, like a storm gathering on the horizon. And as he looked at Cynthia''s darkened arm, he knew that whatever it was, it had already begun to touch their lives.


    Minutes later, Wallace walked into the gym, his familiar tired expression as ever-present as the bags under his eyes. He pushed up his glasses with a sigh, looking as though he would much rather be anywhere else.


    ¡°I''ve been requested to be here in case any of you sustain injuries worth healing,¡± he announced dryly. ¡°Also, Jonathan, I''ve left Markus in my office with enough distractions to keep him busy. With Ivan around, I know he''ll be trying to bet on which student wins.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Wallace,¡± Ivan grinned, leaning back in his seat. ¡°He¡¯s my gambling buddy. It''s tradition.¡±


    ¡°The only reason you say that is because my brother is a horrendous gambler,¡± Wallace replied, shaking his head. ¡°He couldn''t win a coin toss even if it were weighted in his favor.¡±


    Jonathan folded his arms, giving Ivan a pointed look. ¡°Stop betting on children, or I''ll dock your pay,¡± he warned.


    Ivan snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t even work for you, Jonathan. If you have an issue, take it up with Octavian or Frank. They sign my checks, not you, you annoying cheapskate.¡±


    As the teachers found their seats in the bleachers, the atmosphere in the gym shifted. The actual event was still a short while away, but the anticipation in the air was palpable. Students from both classes took this time to huddle together, whispering strategies and sizing up their opponents from across the room.


    Mrs. Stone approached her students with a confident smile, Anastasia trailing behind her with a mischievous glint in her eye. ¡°Alright, my little troublemakers,¡± Mrs. Stone began, her tone both warm and firm. ¡°I know each of you has your own strengths. Trust in those, and trust in each other. You¡¯ve got this.¡±


    Anastasia laughed, patting Mrs. Stone on the shoulder. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen all of you in action, but if the rest of you are as tough as Iris and Anya, there¡¯s no way you¡¯ll lose.¡± She grinned a glint of competitive fire in her eyes. ¡°Show those Beta Facility kids what you''re made of.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a skilled bunch, my students this year,¡± Mrs. Stone said proudly. Her gaze swept over them, and even with her composed demeanor, there was no hiding the pride gleaming in her eyes.


    As the group talked, Xavier, standing a little ways back, was beginning to nod off. His eyelids fluttered shut, and his head bobbed forward. Mrs. Stone, noticing him drifting off, sighed and conjured a ball of water, hurling it at him. The water splashed across his face, jolting him back to consciousness.


    ¡°Wake up, Xavier,¡± she said, her voice laced with mock sternness. ¡°If you manage to eliminate even one of their students, I¡¯ll personally reward you with an entire bag of candy. I know how much you love your sweets. So, what do you say?¡±


    Xavier¡¯s eyes snapped open at the mention of candy, his drowsiness fading away. The surrounding air chilled, frost forming on the gym floor as his ability flared to life. ¡°I¡¯ll eliminate all of them if that¡¯s what it takes,¡± he said, his voice icy with determination.


    ¡°Good,¡± Mrs. Stone said with a nod. ¡°That¡¯ll keep you from trying to get yourself disqualified on purpose.¡±


    Anastasia watched the interaction with an amused expression. ¡°So, just to clarify,¡± she began, glancing at Mrs. Stone. ¡°Betting which class will win is a no, but bribing students is perfectly acceptable? Got it.¡±


    Mrs. Stone shrugged with a sly smile. ¡°Bribing students isn¡¯t wrong¡ªit¡¯s just strategic motivation.¡±


    Ivan strode over to his students, the rhythmic clacking of his skeletal joints drawing their attention as he approached. The sight of a skeleton casually discussing strategy still unnerved some Alpha Facility students, but they were learning to mask their curiosity behind composed expressions. He cast his hollow gaze over them, his voice dry and steady.


    ¡°So, tell me,¡± Ivan began, crossing his bony arms, ¡°are you confident you can win?¡±


    Maxwell glanced at his teammates before speaking up, his tone thoughtful yet resolute. ¡°Several of them are dangerous¡ªespecially the pink-haired girl. We need to prioritize her and take her out first.¡±


    Ivan nodded approvingly, a faint clatter as his jaw shifted. ¡°I¡¯ll trust your judgment. Your instincts are incredibly good. From what I¡¯ve seen, at least four of their six students are monsters in their own right. As for the other two, those twins may not be as overwhelming, but their teamwork is likely top-notch.¡±


    Sarah and Emily, the Beta Facility¡¯s own twin duo, exchanged a confident glance. ¡°We¡¯re not worried,¡± they said in unison, smirking. ¡°Those siblings won¡¯t be better than us.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s gaze hardened as he assessed the opposing class. ¡°There¡¯s one who¡¯s ice-cold¡­ literally. His power feels dangerous,¡± Noah remarked, rubbing his arms as if warding off a chill. ¡°The surrounding temperature dropped in an instant. It¡¯s like he¡¯s channeling a glacier.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t he falling asleep just a moment ago?¡± Ashe chimed in, her brow furrowed in disbelief. ¡°He looked ready to doze off, but now it¡¯s like a froststorm is swirling around him.¡±


    Rook shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to another figure. ¡°I¡¯m more concerned about the girl with the hair that reminds me of a half-moon cookie. Something about her feels¡­ unnatural.¡± His voice was hushed, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Iris. ¡°It¡¯s like she¡¯s hiding something.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s voice was soft as she spoke up, her tone carrying a hint of dread. ¡°No matter what, this game won¡¯t be easy.¡± Her complexion was still unnaturally pale, and she clutched her sleeve to conceal the discolored patches creeping up her arm.


    Ivan¡¯s empty eye sockets fixed on her, a semblance of concern somehow radiating from his hollow expression. ¡°Cynthia, you look paler than me, and I¡¯m literally made of bones. That¡¯s not a good sign.¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she replied quickly, her voice strained. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m coming down with something, but I¡¯ll rest tomorrow. Today¡¯s too important for us to be a person down.¡±


    Maxwell glanced at her from the corner of his eye, lowering his voice so only she could hear. ¡°Terrible liar,¡± he muttered, noting the way she avoided eye contact.


    Ivan¡¯s gaze lingered on Cynthia, his voice taking on a rare note of seriousness. ¡°If things get too much for you, I¡¯ll pull you from the match myself. No arguments.¡±


    The tension in the air thickened as the Beta Facility students steeled themselves, their nerves settling into a tense anticipation. Ivan¡¯s bony fingers drummed against his arm, as if tapping out the countdown to the coming clash. ¡°You¡¯ve got your plan,¡± he said, his voice almost a whisper. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see if you can execute it.¡±


    On the side of the Alpha Facility, the students stared at their opponents, a jumble of thoughts racing through their minds as they tried to size up the competition. Whispers and murmurs broke out as they took in the strange, almost otherworldly appearances of the Beta Facility students.


    ¡°That boy has cat ears¡­ it¡¯s actually really adorable,¡± Alice commented, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and fascination.


    Charles shook his head, his expression twisting into mild disgust as he pointed across the gym. ¡°Forget the cat ears¡ªlook at that guy with the horns. I¡¯m pretty sure his arms turned into tentacles a minute ago¡­ that¡¯s seriously creepy.¡±


    Iris narrowed her eyes, her focus locked on one figure among the crowd. ¡°Forget the tentacles,¡± she said, her tone steady. ¡°The real threat is the boy with the angelic wings. He¡¯s the strongest one here.¡±


    Anya grinned, crossing her arms as she glanced sideways at Iris. ¡°I agree. Your instincts are sharp as always, my dear friend.¡±


    Iris turned and shot Anya a cold glare, flames beginning to flicker faintly around her fingertips. ¡°We¡¯re not friends. And if you keep talking like that, I might just ¡®accidentally¡¯ hit you in the back with a fireball.¡±


    ¡°Such hostility,¡± Anya said with a mocking pout. ¡°Though I suppose I could use one of my dolls to pin you down while our enemies pelt you with dodgeballs. It¡¯d be entertaining.¡±


    ¡°Will you two knock it off?¡± Theo interjected, his voice stern but laced with concern. ¡°You¡¯re scaring Celia.¡±


    Celia giggled softly, shaking her head at her brother¡¯s worry. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Theo. It¡¯s actually pretty funny watching them argue.¡±


    The playful banter was cut short as Jacob came sprinting over from the bleachers, practically bouncing with excitement. ¡°Come on, guys! We¡¯ve got this!¡± he shouted, beaming at his classmates. ¡°Our class is definitely going to win!¡±


    Charles remained unconvinced, casting a skeptical glance at the Beta Facility team. ¡°I still can¡¯t get over how weird they all look. Why do they look like that?¡±


    Mrs. Stone stepped forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. ¡°That¡¯s a trade secret,¡± she said with a smirk. ¡°Become an official member and maybe you¡¯ll find out.¡±


    Charles huffed, folding his arms across his chest. ¡°You know, if you keep dodging the question, I might just throw this game,¡± he threatened, raising an eyebrow. ¡°With my ability, it¡¯d be easy to make the balls miss on purpose.¡±


    Before Mrs. Stone could respond, Iris stepped up beside him, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°Try that, and I¡¯ll hit you so hard you¡¯ll wish I had just set you on fire.¡± A small flame danced around her clenched fist, casting a fiery glow over her stern expression.


    Charles flinched, backing away slightly. ¡°Okay, okay! I was just kidding. Don¡¯t be mad.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for stepping in, Iris,¡± Mrs. Stone said, letting out a deep sigh. ¡°But please, no more fighting amongst yourselves. We¡¯re here to take on the other team, not each other.¡±


    The tension in the group slowly dissipated as they turned their attention back to the Beta Facility students. The atmosphere in the gym was electric, charged with anticipation as the clock ticked down to the start of the event.


    Iris clenched her fists, her gaze returning to the Maxwell.


    Up in the bleachers, the conversation between Baal, Wallace, and Jonathan took on a casual air, despite the weight of the topic.


    ¡°So, which team do you think has the upper hand?¡± Baal asked with a playful glint in his eye.


    ¡°Naturally, I¡¯m rooting for my students,¡± Jonathan replied, crossing his arms as he surveyed the gym. ¡°The Alpha Facility has always been a cut above the rest.¡±


    Baal smirked. ¡°Care to bet on it? I¡¯m confident the Beta Facility students will take the victory. What about you, Sleepy Eyes?¡± he asked, glancing at Wallace.


    Wallace let out a long, tired sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve already had to deal with one gambling addict today. Why do I have to put up with a second one? I thought you were supposed to be the Gluttonous Monarch, not the Greedful one.¡±


    ¡°No, no, the Greedful one was the bastard who killed me,¡± Baal chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of admiration and resentment. ¡°That clever fiend trapped me in an infinite death loop. I devoured the concept of death repeatedly, but eventually, it just became too much for me to handle.¡±


    Jonathan''s gaze shifted toward Baal, his curiosity piqued. ¡°It¡¯s interesting to hear you reminisce about such things. You¡¯re quite nostalgic for a demon.¡±


    Baal''s expression softened, a wistful look crossing his face. ¡°It¡¯s a shame, really. Things took a drastic turn for the Abyss. The balance is unraveling, and with each Blood Moon, the worlds of Gaia and the Abyss are merging. The fusion will progress further and faster with every cycle.¡±


    ¡°Wait, merging?¡± Jonathan''s brows furrowed as he processed the implications. ¡°We knew the Blood Moon was causing things to get worse. But you¡¯re saying it''s a full-scale convergence?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Baal nodded gravely. ¡°Every time the Blood Moon rises, the barriers weaken and the two realms overlap a little more. Soon, they may become inseparable.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s truly troubling,¡± Wallace remarked, rubbing his chin in thought. ¡°The chaos could become unimaginable if we don''t do something.¡±


    ¡°If I were to reclaim my throne as Demon King, at the very least, I could create a world where our species could coexist,¡± Baal continued, his tone surprisingly sincere. ¡°I like this world, you know. There¡¯s a certain¡­ vibrancy here.¡±


    Jonathan tilted his head, the hint of a smirk forming on his lips. ¡°You seem rather taken with the human realm. But why, of all people, are you so infatuated with Mia? You''d think a demon would prefer another demon.¡±


    Wallace chuckled dryly. ¡°Yeah, someone like that psycho Anastasia.¡±


    Baal''s eyes gleamed with amusement. ¡°So you humans could actually tell? That woman¡¯s demonic aura is thick, even for me to ignore.¡±


    Wallace blinked in surprise. ¡°Wait, what? That was a joke!¡±


    Baal grinned wider, savoring their bewilderment. ¡°Oh, she¡¯s a demon, alright. And not just any demon. She has the scent of a high-ranking one. I doubt she¡¯s a Sin or one of the seventy-two Lords, but she¡¯s definitely up there¡ªlikely a four-star demon. If she¡¯s taken an Awakened¡¯s body, she could possess up to five abilities in total.¡±


    Jonathan and Wallace exchanged a glance, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. ¡°This¡­ changes things,¡± Jonathan said slowly. ¡°We might need to report this to the boss.¡±


    ¡°Why bother?¡± Baal waved dismissively. ¡°She¡¯s no threat. If anything, I can only sense regret from her. Besides, your council¡¯s filled with creatures far worse than demons. Let the woman be.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Wallace grumbled. ¡°It¡¯s not like Jonathan¡¯s eager to lose another combat teacher anyway.¡±


    Jonathan shot him a look before turning his attention back to Baal. ¡°You sidestepped the question earlier. Why Mia? What makes you so fixated on her? Surely there¡¯s more to it than just a taste for corruption.¡±


    Baal''s lips curled into a mischievous grin. ¡°Who''s to say?¡± he replied, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.


    ¡°Answer the question, you insufferable demon,¡± Jonathan insisted, a note of irritation creeping into his tone.


    Baal''s grin faded slightly as he rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. ¡°Truth be told, I¡¯m not entirely sure myself,¡± he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically pensive. ¡°When I kissed her, I was only looking to savor the corruption festering inside her¡ªa treat for my palate, you could say. But then¡­ something happened. It wasn¡¯t just a fleeting hunger. I found myself drawn to her in a way I hadn¡¯t felt before. I¡¯ve kissed plenty of women, seduced them, devoured their despair. Yet for some reason, she¡¯s the only one who lingers in my mind.¡±


    Wallace raised an eyebrow. ¡°A demon experiencing love at first sight. This world just keeps throwing surprises at us.¡±


    Baal chuckled, the sound low and almost wistful. ¡°Love? Perhaps. Or maybe it¡¯s just a maddening obsession. Whatever it is, it¡¯s strong enough that I want to understand it. I want to understand her. Tell me, what would it take to get her to fall in love with me?¡±


    Jonathan leaned back, folding his arms. ¡°Honestly? I think you¡¯re already partway there, though it¡¯s just a spark for now. She¡¯s not going to admit it anytime soon, though¡ªespecially not to herself.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me,¡± Wallace interjected, raising his hands. ¡°I¡¯m terrible with this kind of thing. Any girlfriend I¡¯ve ever had ended up¡­ well, not making it back from missions. You¡¯d be better off asking Markus if you want advice on how not to do it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like Markus is any better,¡± Jonathan snorted. ¡°One of his ex-girlfriends is on top of our most-wanted list.¡±


    Wallace let out a long sigh. ¡°Scarlet¡­ I wonder how she¡¯s doing these days. Hopefully not causing too much chaos.¡±


    Before the conversation could delve any deeper into old flames and regrets, Jonathan stood up and walked to the center of the gymnasium. His voice cut through the hum of chatter, grabbing the attention of the students and teachers alike.


    ¡°Alright, everyone! Teachers, back to your seats,¡± he called out. ¡°The event is about to start. I¡¯ll explain the rules first.¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s voice echoed from the bleachers. ¡°Pretty sure the kids know how to play dodgeball, Johnny,¡± she said with a smirk.


    Jonathan shot her an annoyed glance. ¡°Obviously. But we''ve made some changes to accommodate for, you know, their abilities. Also, Anastasia, do me a favor and shut up.¡±


    She snickered but didn''t interrupt again, for now.


    Jonathan continued, his voice carrying over the gym. ¡°The rules are simple. You''re allowed to use your abilities to attack other students. If we determine that your attacks are too dangerous, the teachers will step in and stop you. As with standard dodgeball, if a ball hits you, you¡¯re out. But to keep things interesting, catching a ball won''t eliminate the person who threw it. If you manage to catch one, you stay in the game, even if it hits you first.¡±


    He paused for a moment, letting the students absorb the new rules before finishing. ¡°And finally, you''re allowed to cross over to the other side of the court, but if you do, you won¡¯t be allowed to throw any dodgeballs.¡±


    ¡°Can we just get started already?¡± Anastasia called out, her voice brimming with impatience. ¡°You''re taking forever!¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°If you interrupt me one more time, I swear¡ª¡± He stopped himself, exhaling slowly to regain his composure. ¡°Anyway, that''s enough of that. The rules are set. Begin whenever you''re ready!¡±

 Chapter 55-Freeze

    Jonathan snapped his fingers, and thick green vines sprouted from the gym floor, curling around the rim of the court. As they retracted, they revealed numerous dodgeballs nestled within their coils. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the vines released the balls, sending them scattering across the gym floor.


    Before anyone else could react, Charles activated his ability. His eyes glowed faintly as every ball on the court levitated into the air, drawn toward him as if pulled by invisible strings. The dodgeballs hovered around him in a perfect formation, orbiting his head like a miniature solar system.


    ¡°Nice work, Charles. I''ve got the last one,¡± Iris said, her tone calm but her eyes gleaming with a fiery determination. With a swift motion, she conjured a bow and arrow made entirely of flames. The fiery arrow crackled in the air as she nocked it and took aim at Rook.


    Rook, whose right arm had morphed into a thick, writhing tentacle, managed to grab one of the balls just in time to raise it in defense. But Iris''s arrow shot forward with a blazing streak, piercing straight through the dodgeball and bursting it into a shower of singed rubber fragments.


    ¡°Hey! Is that even allowed?¡± Rook shouted, stumbling back in alarm as the ashes of the destroyed ball rained down.


    Jonathan¡¯s voice echoed through the gymnasium, calm but firm. ¡°Absolutely fair. I did say you could use your abilities, didn''t I? You''re more than welcome to destroy each other''s dodgeballs. We¡¯ve got plenty more where those came from, and if necessary, I¡¯ll just summon a fresh batch.¡±


    ¡°Incoming!¡± Maxwell called out, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. ¡°Brace yourselves!¡±


    Iris¡¯s eyes narrowed as she began issuing orders, her voice steady and commanding. ¡°Theo, blind the tentacle boy. Now.¡±


    Without hesitation, Theo activated his ability. His own eyes flared with a surge of shimmering aura, and Rook''s sclera suddenly turned jet black. It was as if a curtain of darkness had been pulled over his vision, leaving him stumbling and disoriented.


    ¡°One of them can mess with your vision!¡± Rook shouted, stumbling backward and swinging his tentacle blindly. ¡°Cover me!¡±


    With a burst of telekinetic force, Charles launched the seven dodgeballs he had been holding, sending them hurtling through the air toward the disoriented Rook. The dodgeballs split off in various directions, forming a barrage aimed to overwhelm the Beta students.


    Maxwell sprang into action, ripping one of his gleaming angelic feathers from his wings. It glowed with a bright intensity, morphing in his grip into a long sword made of solid light. He swung it in a wide arc, cleaving through the oncoming balls in quick succession. Each dodgeball split cleanly in two, bursting apart as if they were made of nothing more than paper.


    ¡°These abilities¡­ they¡¯re a lot more dangerous than I expected,¡± Maxwell muttered, his grip tightening on the sword of light.


    The air was alive with tension as both teams braced for the next move. The clash of abilities and quick reflexes had only just begun, and the true test of skill and strategy was still ahead. Iris''s gaze flickered toward Maxwell, who stood defiantly on the other side of the court, the faint light of his weapon still glinting in his eyes.


    The silent acknowledgment between Iris and Maxwell was like a spark igniting a powder keg. Neither could afford to underestimate the other. This wasn''t just a test of skill; it was a struggle for dominance, where the lines between game and battle blurred beyond recognition.


    Iris let out a quiet chuckle, her gaze never leaving Maxwell. "He''s both my enemy and the one who must become my ally. I can see now why my future self lost to him," she murmured, almost as if savoring the challenge.


    The tension in the air seemed to thicken as Jonathan''s vines snaked out from the edges of the court, dragging a new batch of dodgeballs into the center. The students barely had a moment to react before Maxwell sprang into action. With a rapid motion, he fired a volley of feathers, each one transforming into a radiant blade of light mid-flight. The glowing swords streaked toward Charles like a shower of meteors.


    Charles'' telekinetic power surged, deflecting the incoming blades with swift, calculated movements, while Rook took advantage of the distraction. His arms morphed into thick, writhing tentacles, each one snatching up a handful of newly arrived dodgeballs. But then, the unexpected happened.


    Xavier, who had been oddly quiet until now, began striding across the court with a casual ease. The temperature dropped precipitously as he moved, the surrounding air so cold it seemed to shimmer. His eyes, usually half-lidded and sleepy, were now wide open, revealing an intensity that sent a chill down his teammates'' spines. He raised his arms in a seemingly open invitation for anyone to take their shot at him.


    ¡°Xavier, what are you doing?¡± Iris demanded, her voice edged with a mix of concern and irritation.


    Rook didn¡¯t hesitate. Seizing the opportunity, he hurled all eight dodgeballs at Xavier in rapid succession, each one aimed to knock him out before he could enact whatever plan was forming in his mind. But just inches from striking him, the balls froze in midair, suspended as if caught in an invisible grip. Frost spread across their surfaces, crackling like a glass spider web.


    Xavier walked forward, past the immobilized dodgeballs that hovered around him, their surfaces coated in a thick rime. His movements were calm and unhurried, and each step seemed to radiate a coldness that seeped into the ground itself. When he reached the center of the court, he stomped his foot down, and a jagged layer of ice burst forth, spreading outward and locking itself around the feet of every Beta student, binding them in place.


    He turned his back to Maxwell, showing nothing but quiet confidence as he retreated to his team''s side of the court. The frozen dodgeballs dropped to the ground with dull thuds, the frost shattering off in glinting shards. Xavier nodded at Charles, signaling him to take control of the balls once more.


    With a flash of concentration, Charles¡¯s telekinesis activated, pulling all eight dodgeballs toward him, ready for the next assault.


    Up in the bleachers, Baal¡¯s eyes narrowed as he watched Xavier¡¯s performance. ¡°How curious. That wasn''t just simple cryokinesis,¡± he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine intrigue.


    Wallace raised an eyebrow, glancing at Baal. ¡°What do you mean? He can control ice; seems straightforward enough.¡±


    Baal shook his head, his gaze never wavering from the boy on the court. ¡°No, it¡¯s more than that. Did you see how the dodgeballs didn''t just freeze¡ªthey froze in time. Their movement stopped entirely. It wasn¡¯t just the temperature, it was the very concept of motion itself that was frozen. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say his power allows him to freeze concepts rather than mere matter,¡± Baal mused, the smile on his face deepening.


    ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be impossible, isn''t it?¡± Wallace asked, his tone edged with skepticism.


    ¡°Indeed, it is. The ability to manipulate concepts is a power typically reserved for a Demon King,¡± Baal explained, his voice lowering. ¡°My predecessor could embody any concept. I can devour any concept. And my successor¡­ well, he could steal any concept. But as long as the Seven Sins are still present, there should be no new Demon King. So how does that boy possess such a power?¡±


    Wallace''s expression hardened as he considered the implications. ¡°This is the first I¡¯ve heard of anything like this. What does it mean for us if that kid¡¯s ability is truly conceptual freezing?¡±


    Baal¡¯s laughter rumbled out of him, low and amused. ¡°It means,¡± he said, a glint of dark amusement in his eyes, ¡°that this class just became the most interesting group of students I¡¯ve seen in centuries.¡±


    Wallace shook his head, his voice carrying a hint of awe. ¡°Two students who have complete control of the concepts of Nothing and Reality, and now one who can freeze concepts entirely. So many monsters have appeared this year.¡±


    Baal''s laughter rolled through the bleachers. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly gathered quite an interesting class, Jonathan,¡± he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.


    On the court, Maxwell''s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. ¡°Fine, if that¡¯s how you want to play things,¡± he said, his voice edged with excitement. ¡°Then let¡¯s see who comes out on top.¡± With a powerful beat of his wings, he launched himself into the air, his white feathers glinting under the gymnasium lights. He soared above the court, his gaze locked on Charles.


    Maxwell dove with impressive speed, aiming a kick straight at Charles''s head. At the last second, Charles dodged, rolling out of the way as the force of Maxwell''s landing cracked the floor beneath him. Using the momentum of his dodge, Charles reached out with his telekinesis and hurled a flurry of dodgeballs at Maxwell in retaliation.


    Maxwell''s hypercognition activated, his senses heightening to an almost supernatural level. Each ball seemed to move in slow motion, and he dispatched them effortlessly, slashing them apart midair with two feathers that had transformed into glowing swords of light. The blades sang through the air as he struck, reducing the dodgeballs to harmless shards of rubber.


    Maxwell closed the distance in an instant, his fist colliding with Charles''s jaw and sending him stumbling backward. ¡°Let¡¯s keep things civil,¡± Maxwell said, his tone calm but firm as he stepped back over the dividing line. ¡°Stay on your side of the court.¡±


    Charles groaned, rubbing his bruised cheek as he tried to shake off the blow. ¡°That really hurt¡­ but I¡¯m fine,¡± he assured Celia, who had rushed over with concern etched on her face.


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    Alice''s voice cut through the murmur of the crowd as she stared at Maxwell with a peculiar expression. ¡°That boy¡­ I don¡¯t know why, but I feel some sort of connection to him.¡±


    ¡°You too?¡± Iris muttered, glancing at Alice out of the corner of her eye.


    Anya¡¯s lips curled into a mischievous smile. An idea had taken root, and she had every intention of bringing it to fruition. ¡°Hey, Xavier,¡± she called out, ¡°make me a few ice golems. The more realistic they look, the stronger they¡¯ll be.¡±


    Xavier nodded, his eyes gleaming with an eerie, icy blue. As his power flared, the temperature in the gymnasium plummeted, a mist forming as the air crystallized around him. He extended his hand, and ice erupted from the floor, spiraling upward in a mesmerizing dance of frost. The shapes of the golems began as crude, jagged forms, but quickly refined with startling speed. Smooth, lifelike details emerged as the frozen figures took shape, their limbs elongating to become lanky and menacing. Each golem stood about the size of an adult male, their joints creaking as they settled into statuesque stillness, their frozen eyes glinting like shards of glass.


    A total of three golems materialized, lined up like silent sentinels awaiting orders.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Anya said, her smile curling into something more devious. With a wave of her hand, she activated her ability, summoning a trio of small, pulsating crimson orbs. The spheres floated in the air for a moment, radiating dark energy, before she directed them toward the golems. As each orb sunk into the chest of a golem, the ice constructs shuddered, their forms convulsing as though awakening from a deep slumber.


    The crimson orbs infused the golems with a sinister vitality, spreading through their bodies like blood seeping into the ice. The frost coating them took on a darker hue, faintly tinged with red, as if they were vessels containing something alive and malevolent. Their frozen eyes glowed with a newfound intensity, and their movements, once stiff, became fluid and almost human. They stood ready, each flexing their clawed hands as if testing their newfound life, waiting for Anya¡¯s command.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s show them what we can do,¡± Anya whispered, her eyes flashing with predatory glee.


    With a snap of her fingers, the ice golems sprang to life, their movements eerily swift and fluid as they charged toward the opposing team. They didn¡¯t waste time targeting the obvious threats, weaving past Maxwell and Rook with unnerving precision. Instead, they went straight for the twins, Sarah and Emily, who had barely a moment to react before the golems closed in.


    The first golem lunged at Sarah, its icy claws encircling her arms and lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. It quickly retreated, dragging her toward the Alpha team¡¯s side of the court, its grip tightening just enough to prevent her from breaking free.


    ¡°Let go of me!¡± Sarah struggled, her voice laced with anger and fear.


    Emily¡¯s eyes widened with shock as her twin was carried off. ¡°Sarah!¡± she shouted, reaching out in vain.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let you harm her,¡± Ashe growled, summoning a spear of blood that formed and hardened in his hand. He aimed at the golem¡¯s back, prepared to strike¡ªbut the golem twisted around, pulling Sarah in front of it like a shield. The frozen surface of its body gleamed with malicious intent as it used her as a living barrier.


    ¡°You¡¯re fighting dirty!¡± Ashe snapped, his eyes blazing with anger.


    ¡°It¡¯s called strategy, blood bag,¡± Anya taunted, her laughter echoing across the court like a triumphant war cry.


    ¡°Always the villain, aren¡¯t you?¡± Iris muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Anya.


    ¡°Do you want to win or not?¡± Anya replied, unbothered by the accusation. She tilted her head, a wicked grin spreading across her face as if daring anyone to challenge her methods.


    Up in the bleachers, Wallace leaned over to Mrs. Stone, his voice lowered. ¡°''Blood bag'' has got to be a slur against vampires, right?¡±


    ¡°If it wasn¡¯t before, it is now,¡± Mrs. Stone replied, her tone amused yet tinged with concern.


    ¡°That child is scary,¡± Wallace said, shaking his head.


    Jonathan clapped his hands, and vines emerged to bring out another set of dodgeballs, gliding over the court and gently dropping them in a neat pile. ¡°New balls are in play!¡± he announced, his voice carrying over the din.


    ¡°Charles, don¡¯t grab them,¡± Anya instructed, her voice dripping with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    Charles hesitated but followed her command, stepping back as Rook rushed forward to seize the opportunity. He snatched up the dodgeballs, intending to rain them down on the opposing team. But just as he prepared to launch his first throw, the golem holding Sarah shifted position, using her as a human shield once more. It held her out in front of it, poised to take the brunt of any incoming attacks.


    ¡°If she gets hit by a ball from her own team, that still counts, right?¡± Anya asked, her tone casual yet laced with dark humor.


    ¡°Yes, it does¡­ villain,¡± Jonathan replied, the word escaping him in a low murmur. He couldn¡¯t hide the faint trace of disapproval in his voice. Even as a teacher who had seen countless strategies unfold, there was something particularly unsettling about the ruthlessness in Anya''s tactics.


    ¡°How did you train these kids to be this ruthless¡ªand this entertaining?¡± Anastasia asked, a spark of amusement lighting up her eyes as she watched the chaos unfold.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about training,¡± Ivan said, his voice a low rumble. ¡°They¡¯ve made a critical mistake. If they¡¯d taken anyone else as a meat shield, they¡¯d be fine. But Sarah? They just lit the fuse. All hell¡¯s about to break loose.¡±


    Ashe¡¯s eyes flared with an intense azure light. In the blink of an eye, the battlefield shifted¡ªlike a scene in a movie that suddenly jumped forward. The three ice golems shattered instantly, fragments of frozen limbs scattering across the court, and Ashe appeared beside Sarah, cradling her protectively in his arms. He set her down gently, his expression calm, but his voice seethed with a quiet rage.


    ¡°Die. Let nothing be left,¡± he whispered coldly, as two gleaming blades of crimson blood formed in his hands. Without hesitation, he advanced on Anya, his eyes promising vengeance.


    ¡°Charles, now!¡± Anya shouted. Her voice was sharp, her confidence unwavering even in the face of Ashe¡¯s murderous intent.


    Before Ashe could strike, all eight dodgeballs flew toward him in a coordinated assault, guided by Charles¡¯ telekinesis. But Ashe''s eyes flared with azure light once more, and the balls froze mid-air, suspended as if caught in an invisible web of time.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Baal mused, leaning forward as if trying to get a closer look. ¡°Though he isn¡¯t the true owner of that authority, it seems he¡¯s able to wield the power of time to some extent.¡±


    ¡°So they also have an authority user,¡± Wallace remarked, his eyebrows raised.


    ¡°No,¡± Baal corrected with a laugh. ¡°They have two. And the other one is far more dangerous. Not a single student here could defeat him. That¡¯s why I believe the Beta facility will win.¡±


    On the court, Ashe relentlessly pursued Anya, his twin blades slashing through the air as she dodged nimbly. The dance between them was fast and chaotic¡ªeach strike from Ashe met with a graceful sidestep or a narrowly avoided blow. Xavier quickly intervened, hurling chunks of ice at Ashe in rapid succession, forcing him to deflect the attacks with his blood blades.


    Reacting with lightning speed, Ashe grabbed one of the frozen dodgeballs, releasing it from his temporal hold. He hurled it toward Xavier with force, but Xavier''s own eyes glinted with focus, and the ball halted mere inches from his face, suspended once again.


    Unbeknownst to Ashe, the balls had remained frozen in the air far longer than they should have¡ªhis azure glow had long since faded. Xavier was the one keeping them immobilized, his power sustaining the illusion of Ashe¡¯s control. A subtle nod from Xavier to Charles was all it took, and in the next instant, all eight dodgeballs sprang to life.


    The balls pelted Ashe from every direction, a ruthless barrage that he couldn¡¯t block in time. Each impact drove him back until, finally, he collapsed to the ground, eliminated.


    Mrs. Stone clapped her hands with a pleased smile. ¡°Good work, class! Xavier, since you had a significant role in that elimination, I¡¯ll count it as your victory.¡±


    Xavier¡¯s face remained impassive as he raised a hand lazily. ¡°Can I give up now? I¡¯m tired.¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Mrs. Stone barked, her voice leaving no room for argument.


    Xavier sighed, his shoulders slumping. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, his cold gaze scanning the court for his next target as the game continued, far from over.


    Ashe trudged over to the bleachers, collapsing onto the seat next to Ivan with a defeated expression etched across his face. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his frustration palpable.


    ¡°You did well out there,¡± Ivan said, his tone even and supportive. ¡°You just let your overprotectiveness get the better of you.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a devil,¡± Ashe spat, glancing back at Anya. ¡°I really want her out of this game.¡±


    ¡°Me too, buddy!¡± Iris shouted from across the court, grinning as she called out to Ashe.


    Ashe furrowed his brow in confusion. ¡°Aren¡¯t you two on the same side?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Iris replied, her eyes narrowing toward Anya, ¡°but I still hate her. It¡¯d be hilarious to see her get smacked by a dodgeball.¡±


    ¡°So mean! I didn¡¯t even do anything to you!¡± Anya retorted, her voice dripping with faux innocence.


    Iris scoffed. ¡°If I made a list of all the reasons I dislike you, the world would run out of paper.¡±


    Charles chuckled at Iris¡¯s remark, his amusement barely concealed as he prepared for the next move. With a thought, he activated his telekinesis, launching all eight dodgeballs toward the remaining opponents in rapid succession, each one targeting a different student.


    In response, Sarah and Emily¡¯s arms transformed into sharp, mantis-like claws that glinted under the fluorescent lights. They swung with swift precision, slashing the incoming balls cleanly in half.


    Noah, despite his inability to see, evaded effortlessly, ducking and sidestepping with a casual grace that made it seem like he was barely trying. Meanwhile, Rook''s tentacle-formed arms lashed out, snatching three of the dodgeballs out of the air, their surfaces rippling as he tightened his grip.


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes darted toward Cynthia, who stood frozen as the remaining dodgeballs zeroed in on her. Without hesitation, he dashed to her side, ripping out an angelic feather that transformed into a glowing sword of light. He sliced through each of the approaching projectiles, shattering them into harmless fragments before they could reach her.


    ¡°T-thank you,¡± Cynthia stammered, her voice trembling as she coughed softly. She glanced down at her sleeve and spotted a small smear of blood. Panic flared in her eyes for a moment, but she quickly hid the evidence, not wanting to worry Maxwell.


    Maxwell''s expression hardened as he took charge. ¡°Rook, you¡¯re our main offensive force. We need to take out the telekinetic, fast.¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t!¡± Iris shouted, interrupting his orders as she unleashed a barrage of flaming arrows aimed directly at Rook and the dodgeballs he held.


    ¡°Not again!¡± Maxwell growled. With a determined glint in his eye, he twirled his light swords in a flurry, deflecting each fiery arrow with a series of swift, fluid motions. Sparks and embers flew around him as the blades clashed against the flaming projectiles, lighting up the court in a dance of glowing chaos.


    He raised one of his swords, pointing it straight at Iris. ¡°No matter what, our class will win,¡± he declared, his voice steady and resolute.


    Iris¡¯s lips curved into a confident smirk, her eyes meeting Maxwell¡¯s unflinchingly. ¡°Don¡¯t count on it,¡± she replied, her tone as fiery as the arrows she wielded.


    The tension in the air grew palpable, the battlefield crackling with energy as the students prepared to unleash everything they had in the next exchange. Each side was desperate to win this game.

 Chapter 56-Siblings

    ¡°I must say,¡± Ivan began, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he watched the heated game unfold on the court. ¡°Despite lacking a consistent combat instructor, your students are impressively skilled. Their talents are undeniable.¡±


    Jonathan stood with his arms crossed, with a proud but measured smile as he surveyed the battlefield. ¡°Their success isn¡¯t because of us,¡± he replied. ¡°The majority of them are prodigies in their own right. This class is something special¡ªthese students are the ones who will leave a mark on the world, shaping its future in ways we can only imagine.¡±


    Ivan leaned back, still grinning. ¡°Of course, I believe you. But mark my words, Jonathan: no matter how extraordinary they may be, they all pale compared to Maxwell and Ashe.¡±


    Jonathan let out a soft chuckle, glancing over at the bleachers where Ashe sat, still nursing his earlier defeat. ¡°Ashe?¡± he scoffed. ¡°You mean the same student who was eliminated first? Not exactly the poster boy for unparalleled skill.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­¡± Ivan waved a hand dismissively. ¡°He may have gotten knocked out early, but don¡¯t be fooled. He¡¯s still a force to be reckoned with. As for Maxwell, he¡¯s more than capable of carrying the rest of the students to victory.¡±


    Jonathan''s gaze returned to the court, where Maxwell stood like a radiant guardian. His swords of light gleamed as though they had been forged from the heart of a star, radiating an intense, unwavering brilliance. ¡°I can see the potential in that boy,¡± Jonathan admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. ¡°He¡¯s a monster, no doubt about it. But don''t count out our own monsters just yet. I¡¯m more than confident in their abilities.¡±


    The battlefield was a blur of motion as dodgeballs whizzed across the court with relentless speed. Both sides were locked in a stalemate, their numbers holding steady as neither team allowed a single member to be taken out. Anya¡¯s eyes sparkled with mischievous excitement as an idea began to form in her mind.


    ¡°Xavier, make me a knife,¡± she called, her tone as casual as if she were asking for a cup of tea.


    Without hesitation, Xavier extended his hand. The surrounding air shimmered as an icy blade materialized, forming with perfect detail. He handed the knife to Anya, who caught it effortlessly. She grinned as she held up one of the dodgeballs she had snatched from the floor and began carving a crude but distinct face into its surface. As soon as she finished, she pressed a small, pulsating crimson orb into the newly-made ''mouth,'' the ball''s surface warping slightly as if it were waking from a deep slumber.


    ¡°Don''t underestimate me,¡± Anya smirked, eyeing her creation. "I can transform anything into a doll as long as I give it a face. Jacob might not have this limitation, but the dolls I create are far stronger than his.¡±


    Iris, hovering nearby, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. ¡°Then what about those hands you used to attack me before?¡± she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.


    ¡°That''s a trade secret,¡± Anya replied, her grin widening into something almost feral. Without another word, she hurled the newly animated dodgeball toward Maxwell. The ball surged forward, its painted face twisting into a snarl as it chomped down viciously, like a rabid beast thirsting for blood.


    The gym erupted in chaos as Anya kept grabbing more balls, bringing each one to life with a slash of her knife and a crimson orb. Within moments, a small swarm of living dodgeballs charged across the court, their erratic movements and snapping jaws resembling a pack of hungry predators. They swarmed toward Maxwell, seeking to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.


    Maxwell''s eyes flared, glowing with a golden intensity as his hypercognition activated, his senses heightening to an otherworldly level. Time seemed to slow for him; he could see the trajectory of each ball, anticipate the attacks, and calculate his response in a fraction of a heartbeat. In one fluid motion, he brought his swords of light, sweeping down in a wide arc. The blades traced streaks of brilliance through the air, cutting through the living balls with precise and lethal efficiency. One by one, the enchanted projectiles burst apart, their crimson cores shattering like glass.


    ¡°Too easy,¡± Maxwell said, his voice steady and calm. His gaze never wavered, even as the remnants of the shattered dolls fell to the floor in lifeless fragments.


    Anya¡¯s eyes narrowed as the remnants of her animated dodgeballs scattered across the floor, Maxwell¡¯s effortless victory fueling her irritation. ¡°Hmph, show-off,¡± she muttered under her breath, but there was a glint in her eye. She was already concocting her next move, her mind buzzing with possibilities.


    On the other side of the court, Sarah couldn¡¯t hide her amusement. ¡°That one¡¯s fun, I like her ability,¡± she said, grinning.


    ¡°Very mischievous,¡± Emily agreed, her voice carrying a hint of admiration.


    Seizing the opportunity as a fresh set of dodgeballs rolled onto the court, the twins darted forward in perfect sync. They each grabbed a ball and tossed them over to Rook, who caught them with his tentacle arms.


    ¡°Hey, blondie! Hey, blondie!¡± Sarah and Emily sang in unison, their voices playful yet sharp as they tried to distract Charles.


    Charles''s brow furrowed as he attempted to focus, his telekinesis flaring to life as he tried to wrest the balls away from Rook''s grasp. ¡°They¡¯re quite annoying,¡± he grumbled, his concentration wavering under the twins'' incessant taunting.


    Sarah''s smile widened as she shared a glance with her sister. ¡°Hey, Emily, he didn¡¯t notice. You know what that means, right?¡±


    Emily¡¯s eyes sparkled with mischief. ¡°It¡¯s playtime.¡±


    Unbeknownst to Charles, Sarah had kept one of the dodgeballs hidden behind her back, making it seem like Rook held all of them. With a swift motion, she hurled the concealed ball directly at him. Charles''s instincts flared as he sensed the incoming projectile and immediately shifted all his telekinetic energy to block it.


    That was exactly what the twins had been counting on.


    ¡°Now, Rook!¡± Emily shouted.


    Rook acted instantly, launching the seven balls he still held. With Charles¡¯s focus completely occupied, the barrage came at him from multiple angles, each one striking him before he could react. The onslaught was overwhelming, and Charles was taken out in quick succession.


    ¡°Stupid twins¡­ they got me,¡± Charles muttered as he trudged toward the bleachers, a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration in his voice.


    ¡°You did well, Charles,¡± Mrs. Stone called out with a reassuring smile. ¡°Sometimes strategy beats strength.¡±


    Charles sighed, slumping onto the bench beside Ashe. ¡°I¡¯m just annoyed I got taken out so quickly. I thought I had it covered.¡±


    Ashe gave a sympathetic nod. ¡°Tell me about it. Trust me, I know how infuriating it is to get tricked by my sister.¡±


    Charles let out a bitter chuckle. ¡°Those twins really are something.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ashe said, glancing over at Sarah, who was playfully sticking her tongue out at him. ¡°Sarah¡­ she definitely gives me a headache more often than I''d like to admit.¡±


    Charles laughed, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, I can see that. She¡¯s a little too good at getting under people¡¯s skin.¡±


    The two boys shared a moment of camaraderie, bound by the shared experience of being outwitted by the mischievous twins, as the game continued to unfold with no signs of slowing down.


    The fog coiled around Pandora like a living shroud, its tendrils stretching out to obscure him from sight as he drifted through the facility¡¯s dimly lit hallways. Anyone who glimpsed him immediately forgot they had seen anything at all, as if their minds were wiped clean by the mist. Pandora''s footsteps echoed faintly, a sinister grin tugging at his lips as he wandered with no clear destination, only a desire to stir the pot.


    He stopped at a seemingly random door and knocked, his voice dripping with a mocking sweetness. ¡°Oh, brother, won¡¯t you let me in? It¡¯s been such a long time since we¡¯ve talked.¡±


    The door creaked open, and Pandora was beckoned into the Bookkeeper''s domain¡ªa vast library that seemed to stretch infinitely, filled with tomes whose contents could twist reality itself. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper and a strange, ethereal energy. As Pandora¡¯s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, they fell upon an unexpected figure seated at a polished wooden table, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup.


    The boy was unnaturally composed, dressed in ornate blue Victorian-era attire that seemed plucked from another time entirely. His skin was alabaster, almost cadaverous, contrasting starkly with his vivid golden eyes that gleamed with a predatory light behind a monocle. He exuded an aura that seemed both whimsical and foreboding.


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    Pandora¡¯s grin vanished, replaced by a look of utter shock. He dropped to his knees in a display of reverence, bowing deeply. ¡°F-Father¡­ what are you doing here?¡± he stammered, his voice trembling as if it might break at any moment.


    The figure known as the Creator smiled faintly, setting his cup down with an unsettling calmness. ¡°Just observing, my dear child,¡± he said, his voice smooth and rich, as if soaked in honey and venom. ¡°Watching my children play their little games. You¡¯re fortunate that I¡¯m here; otherwise, you would¡¯ve been greeted by a storm of golden spears for intruding in your brother¡¯s domain. Such audacity is rather unwise, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Pandora dared to look up, his expression still tense. ¡°I am here only in spirit, Father. My true form remains in my own domain. I simply wished to speak with my siblings,¡± he explained quickly, his gaze flickering around nervously. ¡°Do you know where Eden is? I¡¯d like to have a conversation with both of them.¡±


    The Creator¡¯s smile widened, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Eden? Oh, she¡¯s nearby. In fact, she¡¯s right behind you¡­ wielding an axe.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s instincts screamed at him, and he spun around, his hands snapping up to form a barrier. The air shimmered and distorted as reality itself seemed to glitch and warp around the barrier just in time to catch the blade of an enormous double-headed axe. Eden¡¯s face twisted into a snarl of frustration as her strike was halted mere inches from Pandora¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± she hissed, her voice seething with irritation. She wore a beautiful dress, white and flowing, her eyes cold and ruthless as the weapon in her hands.


    ¡°Now, now, children,¡± the Creator chided gently, his voice carrying an undercurrent of command. ¡°Please, do not fight in my presence. It would be a rare pleasure to see my offspring get along, even if just for a moment.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± Pandora and Eden said in unison, their tones filled with grudging obedience.


    Eden lowered her axe but kept her gaze locked on Pandora, her grip on the weapon remaining firm. She walked toward the table, pulling out a chair opposite the Creator. ¡°I¡¯ll sit, for now,¡± she said, her tone laced with venom. ¡°Though I still think it would be better if you threw this nuisance out.¡±


    From the shadows, the Bookkeeper himself emerged, his eyes flickering with quiet disdain as he regarded Pandora. ¡°You¡¯re not welcome here,¡± he said bluntly, his voice as cold as the library¡¯s endless rows of books. ¡°But since Father has decided to grace us with his presence, I suppose we must tolerate your intrusion¡­ for now.¡±


    Pandora rose with a slow, deliberate grace, his thin smile laced with mockery. He offered a sarcastic bow. ¡°You wound me, brother,¡± he said, voice dripping with false humility. ¡°I only came to bask in the warmth of our delightful family reunion.¡±


    The Creator, having lost interest in the escalating tension, stood from his chair with an air of nonchalance. ¡°Enjoy yourselves, my dear children. I''m going to indulge in some light reading.¡± He turned to Fate with a casual nod. ¡°You did expand the manga section as I requested, correct?¡±


    Fate¡¯s response was immediate, his tone crisp and businesslike. ¡°Yes, Father. I personally recommend Shibuya Ghost, though Fully Iron Chemist also has its merits. Both should suit your taste.¡±


    With that, the Creator strolled away into the endless expanse of books, disappearing among the towering shelves. A calm silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft crackle of reality warping around the siblings¡¯ powers as they stared each other down.


    Fate leaned back, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded Pandora. ¡°Now, tell me what you really want, brother.¡±


    Pandora spread his arms wide, feigning innocence. ¡°Can¡¯t I simply enjoy the company of my beloved family?¡±


    Fate¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°You have until the count of three to tell me what you want. After that, I''ll kill you a hundred times over, without hesitation.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s smirk faltered for a brief second, but he quickly regained his composure. ¡°Fine, fine. I just thought it rather rude that you two seem to be plotting behind my back. Allying yourselves against me, no less.¡±


    Fate¡¯s expression was stone-cold, his voice equally devoid of emotion. ¡°And I found it rude that you snuck that girl, Anya, into the facility without my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Personally,¡± Eden interjected, her voice sharp as the axe she still held, ¡°I found it rude that you tried to attack both of our champions simultaneously. A blatant show of overconfidence.¡±


    Pandora scoffed, his smile turning bitter. ¡°Oh, and what about you two? Choosing champions that aren''t even fully human? That, I would say, is the ultimate rudeness.¡±


    Eden tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with cold amusement. ¡°She was the only one I could pick.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s playful facade shattered, his eyes flashing with rage. ¡°You had eight billion choices, and you deliberately picked the one human that was off-limits. Don¡¯t insult my intelligence, Fate. You knew damn well you couldn¡¯t choose her!¡±


    Tension crackled in the air as the two brothers glared at one another, the energy between them becoming palpable. Fate¡¯s eyes burned gold as the room responded to his growing wrath. Without warning, dozens of golden spears materialized from the ground, each one lancing through Pandora''s body with brutal precision, skewering him in place.


    Pandora let out a low chuckle, his body twitching slightly, but showing no signs of pain. ¡°Is that all?¡± he asked, his voice thick with mockery. ¡°Authority of Error: error of damage.¡±


    The moment the words left his lips, the spears glitched and warped, fading out of existence as if they had never been there. Pandora remained entirely unscathed, lounging back in his seat with infuriating calm.


    ¡°You should know better by now,¡± he said with a grin, shaking his head. ¡°Brute force won¡¯t work on me, brother.¡±


    ¡°Smug as always,¡± Fate muttered, his golden eyes narrowing dangerously.


    Pandora''s laughter echoed through the cavernous library, reverberating off the endless shelves like a haunting chorus, each chuckle mocking his siblings with venomous glee.


    ¡°Come now, Eden, why so serious?¡± he sneered, his eyes glinting with cruel delight. ¡°How are my dear niece and nephew doing? Oh wait, silly me¡ªthose children aren¡¯t yours, are they? The man you loved thought of you as little more than a convenient vehicle, a mere means to an end.¡± His voice dipped into a cold, mocking tone. ¡°What a tragedy.¡±


    Eden''s grip on her axe tightened, her knuckles turning white as her eyes blazed with barely contained fury. ¡°Shut the hell up, you bastard,¡± she spat, her voice trembling with rage.


    Pandora¡¯s grin only widened, feeding off her anger. ¡°Oh, come now, dear sister. That bastard Aether used you. He toyed with your feelings, knowing full well the depth of your love for him. Played you like a fiddle? No, that¡¯s too refined. You were played like a cheap, disposable kazoo¡ªone you¡¯d find in some rundown, bargain-bin store.¡± His voice rose, carrying a mocking melody.


    Fate''s gaze remained steady, but his tone was sharp as a blade. ¡°Is that your purpose here, Pandora? To provoke us with petty jabs?¡±


    Pandora waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Even after Aether¡¯s death, look at you, Eden¡ªstill desperately trying to protect his child as if he were yours.¡± He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with malevolence. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make sure to take care of both him and Alice. Permanently.¡±


    The air seemed to shatter as Eden lunged forward, her axe cleaving through the space where Pandora''s head once was. His severed head fell to the ground with a dull thud, but before she could even draw another breath, reality glitched¡ªlike a corrupted recording, and his head reappeared, perfectly intact. She swung again, her movements fueled by wrath, yet each blow only caused reality to flicker, restoring him again and again.


    ¡°Calm yourself, Eden,¡± Fate interjected, his voice firm. ¡°He¡¯s enjoying your anger. Don¡¯t give him the satisfaction.¡±


    Eden''s chest heaved with rage as she halted, her knuckles still white on the axe handle. ¡°You insufferable bastard.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin grew wider, as if her fury only served to feed his sadistic delight. ¡°Now then, would you two like to hear my latest plan to deal with those precious children?¡± he asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.


    Eden¡¯s expression hardened, her rage simmering beneath the surface. ¡°Does this have something to do with Cynthia?¡±


    ¡°So astute, dear sister,¡± Pandora sneered, his slow clap echoing through the chamber like a death knell. ¡°Yes, indeed. Any moment now, today, in fact, she¡¯s going to explode¡ªquite literally¡ªand then she¡¯ll go on a delightful little killing spree. Won¡¯t that be fun to watch?¡±


    Fate¡¯s expression shifted from composed to sharply accusatory. ¡°Eden, why didn¡¯t you tell me about this?¡± he demanded, his voice low and taut.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be an immediate danger,¡± Eden replied, frustration seeping into her tone. ¡°I used my power to lessen the curse that was placed on her. I thought I had more time¡ª¡±


    ¡°More time?¡± Fate cut her off, incredulity flashing in his eyes. ¡°You thought a ticking time bomb of a child wouldn¡¯t explode precisely when both of our chosen champions happened to be together? Sister, I truly love you, but sometimes you can be so stupid it hurts.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s laughter interjected like a jagged knife, cutting through the tension. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so harsh on her, Fate,¡± he chortled. ¡°I¡¯m just here to make sure dear Eden doesn¡¯t try cheating again by reviving that brat Maxwell. I¡¯d hate to see you both stoop so low as to rewrite death¡¯s terms.¡±


    Eden gritted her teeth, her knuckles white around the haft of her axe. ¡°You won¡¯t win, brother,¡± she hissed, the edge of her voice a promise of retribution. ¡°I swear it.¡±


    Pandora raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into a sly grin. ¡°And why not? You know as well as I do that the brat can¡¯t transform into a demon right now without your meddling. Face it, you¡¯ve placed your faith in broken pieces.¡±


    Fate¡¯s lips curved into a knowing smile. ¡°And yet, I¡¯ve still got a trick up my sleeve. You¡¯re not the only one who can manipulate the board, Pandora.¡±


    The tension crackled in the air as Pandora¡¯s grin only grew wider, a gleam of dark amusement lighting his eyes. ¡°Then let¡¯s see who wins this little game, shall we?¡± His voice dripped with anticipation. ¡°You bastard.¡±


    Fate¡¯s gaze was unyielding, his calm demeanor masking the steely resolve beneath. ¡°Would you like to know why you will lose, brother?¡± he asked, the question hanging in the air like a sword ready to fall.


    ¡°Oh, do enlighten me,¡± Pandora replied, a mocking bow punctuating his words. ¡°I¡¯m all ears, dear brother.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because you view your champion as nothing more than a pawn, a disposable tool,¡± Fate said, his voice growing cold. ¡°But for Eden and me, our champions are not merely pieces on the board. We¡¯d rather die ourselves than see them fall.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s smile faltered for a brief moment before returning with a wicked twist. ¡°Such sentimental bullshit will be the death of you,¡± he spat, his voice a low growl.


    ¡°We shall see,¡± Fate replied, his eyes glinting like distant stars. ¡°We shall see.¡±

 Chapter 57-Dead Face

    The roar of the relentless thud of dodgeballs against walls and shields filled the gymnasium. The game had reached a fever pitch, each remaining student pushing their abilities to the limit. Flames, feathers, dolls, and ice constructs danced in chaotic harmony¡ªa flurry of power that had long since transcended any notion of a ¡°friendly¡± match.


    Iris loosed another volley of flaming arrows, her eyes narrowed with fierce determination. Across from her, Maxwell soared, his angelic wings flaring wide as he darted through the air, effortlessly cutting through any attempts to strike him down. Xavier, stationed closer to the center, maintained a cool composure, manipulating the temperature and, at times, the very concepts of movement. Anya smiled slyly, carving faces into more dodgeballs, breathing twisted life into them. Sarah and Emily worked in eerie synchronization, their mantis-like arms slicing incoming balls in half. Noah, blind but eerily aware, dodged projectiles as if guided by an unseen hand. Ashe and Charles were gone, eliminated in previous skirmishes, but their absence only intensified the determination of those still in the fight.


    Amid this swirling chaos, Cynthia stood off to one side, breathing heavily. Her condition had worsened throughout the match, her head throbbed, and the cursed darkness lurking beneath her skin pulsed ominously. She tried to focus, to summon what strength remained, but her vision swam. A sudden rush of movement caught her eye too late, a ball, wreathed in frigid mist from Xavier¡¯s lingering chill, came hurtling straight toward her, thrown by an animated doll-ball that Anya had created.


    Cynthia tried to raise her arms, tried to conjure the slightest defense, but her body refused. For a heartbeat, she stood frozen, the ball¡¯s approach reflected in her wide, fearful eyes. It would strike her any second, ensuring her elimination.


    Then, a blur of motion. Rook, his tentacle-arms twisting fluidly through the air, leapt in front of Cynthia. He caught the ball with one twisting limb, his grip tightening with remarkable force as he redirected the projectile. The impact reverberated through his body. Yet, even as Rook stopped that ball, another soared in from an unexpected angle, Anya¡¯s cunning was endless. She had thrown a second ball almost simultaneously, a hidden strike intended for Cynthia. Now it zeroed in on Rook instead.


    Rook tried to pivot, to shield himself with his tentacles, but he¡¯d expended too much effort saving Cynthia. The ball struck him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind from him. He staggered back, tentacles reverting to normal arms as he dropped to a knee.


    ¡°No¡­¡± Cynthia managed to whisper, her voice cracking. She reached out as if to pull him back, but Rook smiled wanly, shaking his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± he said, breathing heavily. ¡°I couldn¡¯t let you take that hit, not in your state.¡± He rose shakily, his posture proud, before trudging off toward the bleachers, his shoulders slumped in defeat.


    Above the clamor, Mrs. Stone¡¯s voice rang out, ¡°Rook is out!¡± Her tone carried regret, acknowledging the sacrifice he¡¯d just made.


    Cynthia clenched her fists, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. Another teammate gone, someone who had saved her at his own expense. As the match pressed on, the realization settled heavily in her chest. She was vulnerable, a liability. Her curse lingered beneath her skin, waiting to erupt at any moment, and it had almost cost her everything.


    Cynthia steeled herself, ignoring the pain throbbing through her body and the sickly heat of her curse. This battle was far from over, and every loss only sharpened the surviving players¡¯ resolve. The lines had been drawn, the stakes raised. Now more than ever, what mattered was endurance, cunning, and the will to protect those who still stood side by side.


    Out from Cynthia¡¯s arm, a sudden burst of darkness erupted, caught between a scream and a sigh of despair. It took form as a massive sickle, its blade fashioned from pure void. Feather-like shards of midnight peeled away from it, drifting like tattered black leaves falling from a rotted tree. The gym was immediately filled with a suffocating odor¡ªan acrid stench reminiscent of decaying flesh, as if the very concept of life had turned rancid in that single instant.


    The sickle sliced through the air, its trajectory erratic and furious, so swift and unexpected that not even the most vigilant teachers could react in time. Iris, Maxwell, Anya¡ªnone of them saw it coming until it was too late.


    Then, in a blur of movement, Baal materialized on the court. One moment he was seated, the next he was standing between the students and that blade of darkness. His arm twisted, flesh warping into a grotesque maw that gaped wide. With a sickening crunch, he devoured the darkness whole, swallowing Cynthia¡¯s deadly strike as if it were nothing more than an unpleasant morsel.


    The entire gym fell silent, the only sound the echo of Baal¡¯s teeth clacking back into place. Every set of eyes, wide with horror, turned toward the demon who had just casually consumed what felt like raw, weaponized death.


    ¡°That attack was too dangerous, even for this game,¡± Baal said, brushing invisible crumbs of malevolence off his lips. ¡°Do be careful.¡± Without further ceremony, he vanished back to his seat, leaving behind an uneasy quiet.


    Cynthia stood frozen, her arm still raised as if to fling more darkness, her eyes brimming with terror. She had no idea what she¡¯d just unleashed. Her body trembled, tears welling up and threatening to spill over her lashes. She clutched at her cursed limb, uncertain and panicked. ¡°What¡­ what was that?¡± she managed to choke out, her voice thin.


    On the sidelines, Mrs. Stone¡¯s voice quavered, struggling between concern and curiosity. ¡°Baal, what did that attack taste like to you? It¡­ it looked so strange.¡±


    Baal tilted his head, tapping his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Death,¡± he answered softly, each syllable resonating with grim finality. ¡°Not the mundane, natural death known to mortals. This was death infused by a power akin to my own¡ªan authority type ability at my level. Far too potent for a mere child to wield.¡±


    Ivan let out a nervous laugh, though it lacked any real humor. ¡°I thought Cynthia was supposed to be one of the normal ones. Looks like I was wrong,¡± he said, trying and failing to lighten the mood. The truth was all too clear: something had awakened in Cynthia, something monstrous and beyond her control.


    Cynthia¡¯s tears finally escaped, rolling down her cheeks as she realized the horror lurking inside her. Her teammates looked on, unsure how to console her, or even if it was safe to approach. Sensing opportunity, Anya took full advantage of the chaos. She swiftly animated multiple dodgeballs, each now a snarling doll under her command, and flung them at Cynthia, seeking to eliminate the fragile girl before she could regain her footing.


    Far away, in the distant future, Superbia smiled, his crimson hair swaying as he turned to regard Future Iris. His draconic eyes gleamed with vicious amusement. ¡°The Dead Face is starting to awaken,¡± he purred, savoring the words. ¡°A true massacre is about to occur.¡±


    Future Iris¡¯s voice rose in desperate defiance. ¡°No¡­ no! I won¡¯t let you succeed with your damned plans!¡±


    Superbia chuckled, a dark melody of malice. ¡°She¡¯s not at her breaking point yet, dear Iris. She¡¯s in that perfect middle ground, where she can still cling to some semblance of control. Just before the hunger within consumes her completely.¡± He burst into laughter, the sound sending chills down Iris¡¯s spine, even across time and space.


    The game in the gym and the twisted machinations of gods and devils now converged toward a single, terrible moment. Cynthia stood on the precipice, balanced between humanity and monstrosity, while forces beyond mortal comprehension watched and waited to see which way she would fall.


    A flicker of something inhuman crossed Cynthia¡¯s face¡ªjust for an instant, a mask that shouldn¡¯t exist winked into being, as though reality itself hiccuped. In that same instant, the dodgeballs hurtling toward her dissolved into shredded rubber, their remains dropping to the floor in foul-smelling scraps that reeked of rot and decay. The stench sent shivers through the onlookers, and a hush fell as Cynthia staggered backward, blood trickling from her nostril. She looked pale, unsteady, as though she¡¯d just wrested a piece of some terrible force and barely kept it leashed.


    From the sidelines, Mrs. Stone¡¯s voice trembled with concern. ¡°Sir, are we certain she¡¯s stable? None of us have any idea what¡¯s happening right now.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s gaze never left the unfolding scene. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Baal, if this spirals out of control, end the game immediately. For now, we observe.¡±


    Baal inclined his head, his golden eyes narrowed. ¡°Of course,¡± he said, quietly pleased at the chance to intervene if needed.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Wallace, rubbing his temples and looking more haggard by the second, sighed heavily. ¡°Are we getting paid extra for this? My gut¡¯s telling me everything is seconds away from going to hell.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°We¡¯ll have to see,¡± he said, each word measured and tense. The atmosphere had grown suffocating, as if fate itself hovered on a knife¡¯s edge.


    On the court, Maxwell sprinted toward Cynthia, worry etched into his features. ¡°Cynthia, are you alright?¡± he asked softly, his voice cutting through the tension like a lifeline.


    Cynthia forced a smile, though it wavered. Her skin looked ashen beneath the harsh gym lights. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ fine,¡± she managed. Her voice shook slightly, betraying her uncertainty. ¡°If I were too dangerous, the professors would have ended the match already.¡± It sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself than anyone else.


    Maxwell nodded firmly, resolve burning in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll end this game quickly, so you can rest.¡± Without waiting for a reply, he stretched his wings wide, plucking several dodgeballs from the air with his feathers. The balls hovered around him like a small planetary system, each one ready to be unleashed.


    With a swift motion, Maxwell fired them off in rapid succession, a barrage raining down on the opposing side. Students scattered, powers flared, and chaos reigned as everyone tried to evade the assault. There were several close calls but miraculously, no one else was struck out.


    No one except, ironically, Wallace, who yelped as one stray ball smacked him square in the forehead. ¡°Ow!¡± he complained, clutching at the spot. ¡°I¡¯m not even playing!¡± The surprise of it forced a snort of laughter from a few on the sidelines, a momentary break in the tension.


    But the laughter died quickly. Everyone knew the danger was far from over. Cynthia stood trembling, uncertain and unstable, Maxwell hovered protectively nearby, and across the court, rival students prepared their next moves in silence. The game had become a powder keg of raw power and frayed nerves, waiting for the slightest spark to set it ablaze.


    Balls whirled through the air in a chaotic symphony of speed and force. The floor was littered with remnants of shattered projectiles¡ªscorched scraps from Iris¡¯s flames, fractured shards from Maxwell¡¯s devastating strikes, and frost-rimed fragments where Xavier¡¯s chilling influence had stilled them in mid-flight. Every student darted and dodged, each vying to maintain their position in this deadly dance of power and cunning.


    Off to one side, Noah stood oddly calm, cradling a single dodgeball in his arms as if it were a fragile glass ornament. Blind as he was, he scarcely seemed bothered by the surrounding frenzy. If anything, he appeared amused, waiting patiently, listening to the roar of powers clashing and the rush of air displaced by passing missiles. He didn¡¯t so much as flinch, even when a flaming arrow from Iris hissed past his shoulder. Noah¡¯s tranquility was unnerving¡ªhe was a snake coiled in the tall grass, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.


    Meanwhile, Maxwell hovered above the fray, his angelic wings beating steadily to keep him aloft. Around him, a constellation of dodgeballs floated at his beck and call. He¡¯d launch them in arcs of terrible precision, each attempt aiming to corner an opponent or force them into a disadvantageous position. Sometimes he guided the balls with subtle nudges¡ªother times he hurled them at full force, daring his adversaries to survive his ruthless assault. The flicker of hypercognition danced behind his eyes, allowing him to predict movements, exploit openings, and counter-attacks before they were even fully formed.


    Iris battled below, her bow of flame drawn taut as she loosed volley after volley of blazing arrows. Each arrow left a streak of scarlet light as it soared through the gym, igniting the air with sparks. She aimed to corral the enemy team, forcing them to scatter rather than mount a collective offense. Xavier, not far from her, worked in tandem, calling forth gusts of freezing air and subtle manipulations of concepts. When flaming arrows threatened to be overwhelmed, he¡¯d conjure a frigid barrier¡ªwhen he saw a moment of opportunity, he¡¯d freeze an oncoming ball mid-flight, robbing it of momentum.


    Anya lurked behind a veil of cunning, her eyes darting over the chaos. She carved faces into new balls whenever she could snatch one, infusing them with crimson orbs that granted them wicked pseudo-life. Her dolls scampered across the gym floor, snarling and snapping at ankles, forcing opponents to waste energy dispatching them. She avoided direct confrontation, preferring to set traps and ensnare her foes with distractions rather than risk facing them head-on.


    The twins, Sarah and Emily, were a whirlwind of coordinated violence. They called out to each other in clipped phrases, sharing signals only they understood. Their mantis-like arms, grown from their bodies, allowed them to slice through oncoming balls, deflecting strikes meant for their more vulnerable teammates.


    Cynthia hid behind Maxwell, struggling to maintain composure. Her earlier slip, the burst of darkness and rot, still lingered in the minds of those who saw it. She fought to keep herself stable, fingers trembling, eyes darting around nervously. She knew something inside her threatened to erupt once more if she lost her focus.


    A streak of blue and white flashed through the chaos¡ªXavier gliding across the floor, each step trailing a thin layer of frost. He paused momentarily to freeze an incoming ball that threatened Iris¡¯s flank, then flicked his wrist, sending it spinning harmlessly aside. Though calm and collected, Xavier¡¯s brow was slick with sweat. Managing these subtle manipulations took a toll, especially under such relentless pressure.


    From the bleachers, Jonathan and the teachers watched intently. The tension was a tangible thing. Baal sat poised to intervene if Cynthia lost control again, while Mrs. Stone bit her lip, concerned for every student out there. Fate and Eden, from their distant vantage, exchanged anxious glances, and Pandora reveled in every dramatic twist with a manic grin.


    Maxwell seized a moment of advantage, diving to snatch another set of balls and hurl them upward, creating a lethal downpour of rubber missiles. Iris fired arrows in tandem, forcing the enemy team to dart back and forth, their formation fracturing under the relentless assault. Noah¡¯s ears twitched as he finally moved, raising his ball and hurling it with uncanny accuracy. His target, was Xavier, who stood a bit too close to Iris, focused on intercepting another deadly round that Maxwell had thrown.


    Xavier sensed the motion too late. His attention had been on freezing a Maxwells barrage. He caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision¡ªa ball coming in low, from an unexpected angle. He tried to twist away, to raise a hand and halt its advance, but he¡¯d overextended himself. His powers dulled for a fraction of a second¡ªjust enough time for the dodgeball to slam into his side with a resounding thud.


    The impact rippled through his body, and a chorus of gasps rose from the watchers. Xavier staggered, shock painting his features before he clenched his jaw. For a heartbeat, it looked as though he might shrug it off¡ªthen the realization set in. He had been struck. He was out.


    The gym fell eerily silent as Xavier stepped off the court, his head lowered in quiet acceptance. Each footstep felt heavier than the last, the roar of combat and shouts of strategy fading behind him. He reached the bleachers, slipping into the ranks of those already defeated, his shoulders slumping with something like relief. It was over¡ªfor him, at least.


    Mrs. Stone approached, her voice warm and gentle. ¡°You did incredibly well, Xavier. I¡¯m proud.¡±


    But Xavier, true to form, didn¡¯t bother to respond. He simply let himself drift into slumber, folding into the comfort of the seat, heedless of praise or reproach. Mrs. Stone couldn¡¯t help but let out a quiet laugh at his nonchalance. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect anything else,¡± she said, shaking her head in affectionate exasperation.


    Across the temporal divide, in the distant future, Superbia watched the scene unfold as if through a pane of distorted glass. He lounged with an air of easy confidence, every detail of the present game relayed to him with uncanny clarity. With a knowing smile, he turned to Future Iris, who hovered close by, tension coiled in her every muscle.


    ¡°Would you like to make a bet?¡± Superbia asked, his tone smooth and deceptively casual.


    Future Iris¡¯s eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance igniting behind them. ¡°That depends on what we¡¯re doing,¡± she said warily.


    ¡°The rules are simple,¡± Superbia explained, steepling his fingers. ¡°Predict which student will be eliminated next. A little game within the game, if you will.  If you win, I¡¯ll let you warn your past self on the bomb that is Cynthia.¡±


    Future Iris¡¯s voice dripped with disdain. ¡°And what if I guess wrong, you damned devil?¡±


    Superbia¡¯s grin widened, revealing fangs of possibility. ¡°A fair question. Offer me something of equal value. Something I¡¯d find¡­ interesting.¡±


    Iris¡¯s lips tightened. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯d want¡ªyou already have everything.¡± Her words carried an undercurrent of bitter truth, acknowledging his vast power and influence.


    ¡°Good point,¡± Superbia said thoughtfully, as if mulling over the finest dessert on a menu he owned. ¡°I suppose I do. But I have an idea. If you lose¡ª¡± his eyes gleamed with sadistic delight ¡°¡ªyou¡¯ll become my bride. A king needs an heir, after all.¡±


    The proposition landed like a hammer blow. Future Iris¡¯s fury flared bright and hot. ¡°You bastard, go to hell!¡± she hissed, summoning a burst of flame from the ether, hurling it towards Superbia¡¯s smug face.


    Superbia merely snapped his fingers. The flames flickered, glitched, and vanished as though they had never been. He smiled, as if amused by a child¡¯s tantrum. ¡°Oh my dear Iris,¡± he purred, ¡°how many times have we played out this scene? You should know by now how it ends. I always have the upper hand.¡±


    Rage rolled off Iris in palpable waves. She wanted nothing more than to rip that grin off his face, to undo him in ways he couldn¡¯t imagine. But she knew better than to lash out blindly. Instead, she choked down her fury, letting it simmer into resolve.


    ¡°So, what do you say?¡± Superbia asked, leaning forward, his crimson hair cascading over one shoulder, his draconic eyes glittering with dangerous glee. ¡°Care to play?¡±


    Iris bared her teeth, her voice seething with venom. ¡°One of these days I¡¯ll make you a eunuch, you damned bastard.¡± She spat the words like poison darts, then took a slow breath, forcing composure. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll play,¡± she said, each word weighted with reluctant determination. ¡°And I¡¯ll win.¡±


    ¡°Splendid,¡± Superbia said, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He gestured grandly, as though inviting her to step onto a grand stage.


    Iris¡¯s eyes blazed as she prepared to name the next victim of fate¡¯s cruel game. Her mind raced through the remaining players, weighing their strengths and weaknesses, all while feeling the noose of this twisted bet tighten around her neck.


    ¡°Fine I choose¡­¡±

 Chapter 58-Betting

    ¡°So, who will you choose, my dear?¡± Superbia purred, his voice dripping with condescension. ¡°Such a difficult decision, isn¡¯t it? Choose the wrong person, and we both know what awaits you.¡± He reached out with a casual, callous grace, tangling his fingers into Future Iris¡¯s hair as though claiming a trophy.


    ¡°Go to hell,¡± Future Iris spat, her eyes blazing with a fierce resolve. In that instant, she jerked her head back, and before Superbia could react, a sickening crack and a spray of distorted energy accompanied the sudden separation of his hand from his wrist. She stepped away from him, standing taller and prouder, even as the stench of fire and cut flesh lingered in the air.


    Superbia let out a hiss of pain, glaring down at the stump. His draconic eyes widened in startled fury, and before a single drop of blood could fall, he willed his hand to regenerate with a sickening crunch and twist of bone and sinew. Within seconds, it was as though it had never been severed. ¡°W-when did you do that?¡± he demanded, voice betraying a hint of incredulity. He was not used to being surprised.


    Future Iris¡¯s smile widened, a predatory curve to her lips. ¡°You have a habit of letting your guard down, you prideful bastard.¡± The mockery in her tone was as sharp as the flaming blade that had just amputated him. ¡°Just like in the game, you thought you had all the time in the world. You thought I¡¯d fold. You thought wrong.¡±


    Superbia growled, his composure returning as he flicked an invisible speck of dust from his pristine sleeve. ¡°Enough theatrics, Iris,¡± he said, voice cold and clipped. ¡°Just tell me your decision. Make it quick. I tire of these games.¡±


    Future Iris reached into a nearby drawer and retrieved a red book. At once, a flurry of flaming butterflies emerged from its pages, each delicate wing a burning ember dancing in the air. Their soft glow cast shifting patterns of light and shadow across the room. Superbia¡¯s eyes narrowed, anger turning his draconic pupils into slits.


    ¡°Where did you get that? That¡¯s cheating,¡± he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He hated unpredictability, and hated when the script he wrote was challenged.


    Iris¡¯s grin turned razor-sharp, her voice now dripping with mock sweetness. ¡°Show me the rules, Superbia. Show me where it says I can¡¯t use every available resource. If you¡¯re as powerful as you claim, you should be able to handle a little improvisation.¡± She paused, letting the tension coil between them. ¡°I¡¯ll do you one better: Here¡¯s the order of elimination. Theo first. Celia second. Sarah and Emily at the same time. Then Noah, and lastly, Alice. That¡¯s exactly how it will go, and I dare you to prove me wrong.¡±


    For a moment, the air crackled with raw hostility. Superbia¡¯s face twitched in disbelief and then hardened with wrath. Faster than thought, he lunged forward, clamping his regenerated hand around Future Iris¡¯s throat. He pulled her close, his crimson hair falling around them like a curtain, his breath hot against her face. His draconic eyes flared with a molten intensity, as if daring her to repeat her insolence.


    ¡°Get a single one of those wrong,¡± he hissed, his voice low and full of menace, ¡°and I¡¯ll consider that a loss on your part. Understand?¡± His grip tightened fractionally, emphasizing the stakes.


    Despite the choking pressure, Future Iris¡¯s smile did not waver. Her eyes sparkled with a daring, rebellious light. ¡°G¡ªgame on,¡± she managed, forcing the words out through compressed lungs. Even now, with his hand around her throat, she refused to show fear. Instead, she projected the same unwavering confidence that had caught him off guard moments before.


    The tension between them stretched taut as a bowstring. The flaming butterflies spiraled above them, casting frantic, dancing shadows on the walls. Iris could feel Superbia¡¯s fury vibrating through his hand, and yet, she met it with defiance. They stood locked in their silent contest, neither willing to yield an inch.


    Thus, the next stage of their twisted game was set. Iris, armed with knowledge and audacity, and Superbia, incensed and determined to crush her spirit, squared off in a deadlock that would echo across time and destiny.


    In the present, the dodgeball game raged on like a war unleashed. The gym¡¯s atmosphere crackled with tension and raw energy, every movement laced with deadly cunning. Sparks of flame, fragments of dolls, and glimmers of strange conceptual powers danced across the court. Students hurled dodgeballs that soared like meteors, some charged with raw elemental fury, others guided by preternatural precision.


    High above, Maxwell hovered in midair, wings spread, scanning the frenzy below. His eyes darted between his teammates and their opponents, searching for the subtle patterns and rhythms that would yield victory. Nearby, Iris unleashed volleys of flaming arrows, each a streak of scarlet slicing through the dizzying chaos.


    In a realm beyond mortal perception¡ªsomewhere far off in time and space¡ªSuperbia stood with Future Iris, narrating every twist and turn of the present. His voice bristled with anger, every syllable a blade of irritation as he recounted the events. ¡°So, as you predicted,¡± he hissed, ¡°Theo was the first to fall. Are you pleased, my dear?¡±


    Future Iris said nothing. She only watched through the lens of Superbia¡¯s voice, each detail painting a vivid picture in her mind¡¯s eye. She could feel his rage crackling, taste the bitterness in his tone as he was forced to acknowledge her prediction coming true. It amused her, even as it unnerved her.


    On the court, Theo fought valiantly, splitting his attention between the barrage of incoming dodgeballs and his sister, Celia. He darted left, then right, tentatively hoping to maintain a front line. Maxwell took notice¡ªhe saw how Theo¡¯s every action was tethered to Celia¡¯s safety. If a ball veered toward her, Theo rushed to intercept it. If she looked cornered, Theo positioned himself as a shield.


    In the stands of time¡¯s distant corridor, Superbia¡¯s voice dripped with grudging respect. ¡°He tries so hard,¡± he snarled, ¡°this foolish boy. But watch how Maxwell exploits his weakness.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s hypercognition flared, discerning Theo¡¯s pattern of protection. Instead of targeting Theo directly, he launched a coordinated assault of dodgeballs at Celia. Iris, sensing his plan, provided cover fire of her own, forcing the siblings¡¯ formation to crumble. Caught in a pincer move, Theo had to act¡ªand act fast.


    Celia¡¯s eyes widened as several balls streaked toward her from multiple angles. Theo rushed in, determined to shield her no matter the cost. He extended his arms, trying to bat away or catch them, but there were too many. Each dodgeball slammed into him¡ªone, two, three blows in rapid succession. He grimaced, fighting the urge to cry out as more balls pummeled his sides and chest. It was too much. He couldn¡¯t defend himself and Celia simultaneously against that hailstorm of rubber and raw force.


    At last, he stumbled, the final ball striking him with a dull thud. Theo collapsed to one knee, then lowered his head, acknowledging his defeat. The referee¡¯s whistle¡ªor Mrs. Stone¡¯s voice, in this twisted scenario¡ªrang out: ¡°Theo is out!¡±


    Celia gasped, lurching forward. She wanted to help him, to argue that it wasn¡¯t fair, but rules were rules. Theo stood slowly, meeting her worried gaze with a small, apologetic smile. He¡¯d done all he could. He¡¯d protected her, and now the best he could do was leave the battlefield with dignity.


    A hush rippled through the gym. One down, as predicted. The other students glanced at each other warily, wondering what would change now that Theo was gone. Maxwell said nothing, only settled back into a calm vigilance. Iris tightened her grip on her flaming bow, a subtle nod of respect for the fallen adversary. Xavier pressed his lips together, noting the shift in team balance. Anya smirked quietly, pleased that the chaos deepened. Noah¡¯s blind gaze didn¡¯t waver, but he inclined his head, acknowledging a worthy foe¡¯s exit.


    Back in the hidden future vantage point, Superbia clenched his fists. ¡°You see, my dear Iris?¡± he growled, anger boiling beneath his polished words. ¡°Your guess was correct. Theo is down. But don¡¯t you dare get smug. One success does not guarantee the rest.¡±


    Future Iris allowed herself a small, triumphant smile, reveling in the crack in his composure. She said nothing, letting the proof of her accuracy sink in. Her silence needled him more effectively than any taunt could.


    Superbia inhaled sharply, steadying himself. He would not show weakness. ¡°Your turn grows short, Iris,¡± he said, voice lower, tighter. ¡°The next elimination will come sooner than you think. And if you fail to predict it correctly¡ª¡±


    He didn¡¯t finish the threat. He didn¡¯t have to. The weight of the bet they had struck, the price of a single miscalculation, hung heavy in the space between them.


    On the court, the game resumed with renewed intensity. Without Theo¡¯s protective presence, Celia might be more vulnerable or perhaps freed to move differently. Maxwell, Iris, Anya, and all the others adjusted their strategies silently. Theo''s elimination was a single stone thrown into a still pond, sending ripples of consequence outward.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    But as that single prediction locked into history, Future Iris stood tall in the face of Superbia¡¯s fury, and the present continued to unfold in accordance with her whispered prophecy.


    Celia knew her limitations all too well. Her ability was never meant for a direct showdown like this¡ªno conjuring flames, no freezing concepts, no manipulating dodgeballs through sheer will. It was a subtle support skill, better suited for marking an enemy¡¯s position or giving allies a heads-up. In a massive, frenzied battle like this, her gifts amounted to little more than a guiding whisper lost in the roar of chaos. She ducked and dodged, eyes wide and uncertain, as spheres of rubber and elemental fury zipped past her. Each close call made her heart pound faster.


    Across the court, Emily and Sarah spotted her hesitation. The twins had learned to read fear like an open book, and right now, Celia¡¯s fear shone bright and clear. They circled in, their movements graceful and predatory, ready to exploit her weakness. Already, they¡¯d seen Theo taken out. Another teammate down could tip the balance. Their mantis-like arms twitched, poised to slice through any defense that might arise.


    But Iris stepped in, a protective shadow cutting between Celia and the twins. Her sword of flames crackled into existence, the heat rolling off it in shimmering waves. Iris deflected incoming balls with fierce determination, sweat beading on her brow. She wouldn¡¯t let another teammate fall. Not if she could help it.


    With a swift move, Iris stooped low, snatching up a stray dodgeball. She channeled her flames into it, igniting its surface with a brief burst of pyrokinetic force before launching it with a kick that sent it rocketing across the gym. The ball streaked like a miniature comet, forcing Sarah to jink to the side, barely escaping its fiery bite.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let anyone else get eliminated,¡± Iris called out, voice firm but laced with tension. She knew the odds were stacked against them. The twin''s cunning, Maxwell¡¯s relentless strikes, Noah¡¯s skill¡ªthey needed unity to stand a chance. Yet Iris despised Anya, she couldn¡¯t rely on that twisted puppeteer. Alice was too unskilled to wield her potential effectively, and Celia was already floundering. The team was on shaky ground.


    Sensing an opening, the twins moved into their next play. Emily grabbed a dodgeball and tossed it high into the air. As it soared, Sarah darted in close and cupped her hands, providing a makeshift platform. With perfect timing, Emily sprang onto her sister¡¯s clasped hands, and Sarah heaved upward, sending Emily soaring above the fray. High above the chaos, Emily had a bird¡¯s-eye view of the trembling Celia, who stared up in alarm.


    There was no time to react. Emily, poised midair, drew back her arm and spiked the dodgeball straight down, putting all her strength, and a dash of gravity behind it. The ball streaked earthward, a deadly meteor of rubber aimed squarely at Celia¡¯s head. Iris tried to intervene, swinging her flame sword to intercept, but the twins¡¯ teamwork was too swift, too sudden. The ball passed Iris¡¯s guard by a hair.


    Celia¡¯s eyes widened in shock a split-second before impact. The ball struck her skull with a resonant thump, the force knocking her off-balance. She stumbled, and across the court, Emily descended gracefully, her fall broken by Sarah¡¯s waiting arms. The twins smiled at each other, a silent note of satisfaction passing between them.


    Iris¡¯s stomach sank as Celia went down. Another comrade lost. The echoes of Celia¡¯s elimination rippled through the gym like a tragic chorus: too many falls, too few allies left to rely on. The game had become a vicious spiral, each move more desperate than the last, and each casualty carving a deeper line between victory and despair.


    ¡°Good work everyone, we¡¯re almost there! Let¡¯s win this,¡± Maxwell called, his voice resonating with steady confidence as he hovered mid-air. Across the court, Sarah and Emily grinned ear-to-ear, exchanging a victorious high-five that crackled with triumph. They had secured another elimination, and their morale soared. Noah lingered at the periphery, smiling to himself, his next throw already forming in his mind, guided by uncanny instincts.


    Meanwhile, in Fate¡¯s boundless library¡ªa place between worlds where knowledge and destiny intertwined¡ªthree gods observed the match as though it were a scene from a captivating play. They lounged in armchairs, sipping delicate cups of tea, each swallowing a mouthful carrying infinite implications. Rows of shelves stretched into eternity, filled with tomes that could rewrite reality with a single phrase.


    ¡°Poor Iris,¡± Pandora said, leaning forward with a malicious grin. He stirred his tea slowly, as if savoring each ripple. ¡°Brother, it looks like your precious champion might burst into tears at any moment.¡±


    Fate narrowed his eyes, taking a slow, measured sip. ¡°Oh, shut it, Pandora. Iris has endured more than this. She won¡¯t break so easily. She¡¯s no fragile glass figurine.¡±


    Eden, cradling her teacup like a cherished jewel, chimed in with a dreamy sigh. ¡°At least my dear Maxwell will win.¡± Her tone brimmed with pride, imagining Maxwell¡¯s inevitable triumph.


    Pandora¡¯s lips curved into a cruel smile. ¡°Oh, is that what you think, dear sister? Yes, it does look that way. How sad that he¡¯s going to die before the game¡¯s end.¡± He savored the revelation, each word poised like a blade.


    Eden¡¯s composure snapped. With a swift motion, she flung her tea at Pandora¡¯s face, scalding liquid splashing across his features. ¡°You dare say that?¡± she spat, anger turning her voice into a sharpened edge.


    Pandora merely blinked, apparently unbothered by the burning liquid streaming down his cheeks. ¡°So mean, sister,¡± he remarked, voice calm. He continued sipping from his own cup as though nothing had happened, hot tea dribbling down his face. ¡°I must ask, what poison did you use in this?¡± he inquired, almost conversationally, as if discussing the bouquet of a fine wine.


    Fate rested an elbow on his armchair, eyes half-lidded with mild amusement. ¡°A friend gave it to me. A very special poison, one that doesn¡¯t even exist yet. Just a single drop. It¡¯s quite strong, I¡¯d say.¡±


    Pandora took another slow sip, thoughtfully rolling the taste over his tongue. ¡°Interesting, indeed, if I could die, I¡¯d likely be writhing in agony now. Instead, it tastes rather sweet¡ªlike honey with a bitter aftertaste. Such a rare flavor.¡±


    Eden and Fate exchanged glances as Pandora continued speaking as if unaffected, smiling through the pain that didn¡¯t come. ¡°I guess that¡¯s what sets us apart,¡± Fate mused. ¡°Now, Pandora, care to explain your master plan?¡± His voice dripped mockery, a slow, steady trickle of venomous curiosity.


    Fate''s eyes flickered with distaste for this game. ¡°I placed an extreme concentration of death energy into her¡ªCynthia,¡± Pandora answered, enjoying his role as narrator. ¡°That, and a special catalyst. She¡¯s a ticking bomb of madness, and at any moment, I can trigger her to activate. The longer I wait, the stronger she becomes.¡±


    Fate frowned, his gaze flicking to Eden, who was looking at her empty teacup with melancholy. ¡°So you hold the keys to this doomsday,¡± Fate said, voice low. ¡°And we were under the impression we had more time.¡±


    Eden shrank under Fate¡¯s glare, her sadness palpable. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if confessing a secret sin. Then she ventured timidly, ¡°Can I have more tea?¡±


    Fate¡¯s reply was immediate, brusque, and final. ¡°No, you may not.¡±


    Eden looked away, her shoulders trembling slightly under the weight of her remorse. Pandora chuckled softly, wiping tea from his face¡ªhis smug smile made it clear he relished every drop of discord. The atmosphere in the library was thick with tension, the silence only broken by the quiet rustle of Fate¡¯s robes as he reached for the teapot.


    ¡°Care to make a bet, my dear brother?¡± Fate asked, his voice deceptively calm as he refilled his cup with a measured hand. The delicate clink of porcelain provided a small, cultured contrast to the malicious undertones of their conversation.


    Pandora¡¯s eyes narrowed, a single gleaming flash of intrigue. ¡°A deal with you, Fate, is always dangerous,¡± he replied, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair. ¡°But I won¡¯t deny I¡¯m rather interested.¡± He downed the last of his tea, as if toasting the risk he was about to take.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± Fate said lightly, though a predatory edge lurked in the curve of his lips. ¡°If you can¡¯t eliminate either of our chosen champions, you¡¯ll hold off for the rest of the year. However, if you manage to kill just one of them, I¡¯ll give you anything your twisted heart desires.¡±


    Pandora clicked his tongue, his eyes drifting thoughtfully toward the ceiling. ¡°No can do,¡± he said, shrugging languidly. ¡°I¡¯ve got two more plans lined up for this year¡ªcarefully set into motion, I might add. It would be such a bore to scrap them. How about this: if you win, I¡¯ll tell you which one of you will be targeted next? A fairer offer, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Fate¡¯s brow arched, amusement warring with suspicion on his face. ¡°How fitting,¡± he mused. ¡°Even with your master plan moments away from starting, you admit to countless back-up schemes. We do share that tendency to be over-prepared, don¡¯t we, brother?¡±


    Pandora gave a small nod, feigning modesty. ¡°I guess so,¡± he replied. He lifted his empty cup again, rattling it slightly. ¡°May I have more tea?¡±


    Fate smiled, but it was a smile without warmth. ¡°I¡¯m finished wasting poison on you,¡± he said, pouring a fresh cup with a steady hand. The steam curled into the air, carrying a hint of bitterness. Eden watched them both silently, sadness pooling in her eyes as the two men discussed murder and deceit over tea.


    Pandora took a careful sip, then grimaced. ¡°Dreadful without the extra kick of your poison. And you¡¯ve made it far too hot, brother,¡± he complained. Without warning, he flung the scalding tea in Eden¡¯s face. She let out a strangled cry, stumbling backward and rolling on the floor, clutching at the burning pain. The smell of scorched flesh hung in the air like a vile perfume.


    ¡°So,¡± Pandora said, ignoring Eden¡¯s agony with dispassionate ease, ¡°do we have a deal?¡±


    Fate didn¡¯t even glance at Eden. His eyes remained locked on Pandora¡¯s face, ice-cold and unwavering. ¡°Yes, we do,¡± he said at last. ¡°I promise you, you won¡¯t win. My trump card is unbeatable.¡±


    Pandora leaned in, his wicked grin expanding. ¡°Of course it is. But how many times can you use it?¡± His voice slithered into the space between them, a challenge wrapped in a taunt.


    ¡°Enough times,¡± Fate said softly, his tone like a blade drawn from its sheath. ¡°Enough times for it to matter.¡±


    They fell silent, the tension humming like a taut wire, Eden¡¯s muffled whimpers the only sound. Far away, in the mortal realm of dodgeballs and desperate struggles, students fought and fell, hearts pounded and curses lingered in the wings. And here, in the endless library of knowledge and doom, the gods set their stakes, forging destiny with quiet threats and half-smiles, as the next move in their deadly game lay waiting just beyond the next breath.

 Chapter 59-Authority

    Future Iris lounged in her high-backed chair, the flicker of defiance dancing in her eyes. A wry, cocky smile curved her lips as she stared across at Superbia, who stood with arms folded, his crimson hair catching the dim light like spilled blood.


    ¡°So,¡± Future Iris asked mockingly, drumming her fingers on the table¡¯s edge, ¡°how are my prediction skills, oh proud Demon King?¡±


    Superbia¡¯s mouth twisted into a sneer, barely containing his rage. ¡°You¡¯re cheating,¡± he snapped, slamming a fist down. ¡°Using that damn red book was a cheap trick.¡±


    Iris arched an eyebrow, her voice silky with scorn. ¡°And manipulating the past, just to screw me over, isn¡¯t cheating? Spare me the hypocrisy.¡± She leaned forward, letting the tension simmer between them. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve already paid the price for using that cursed artifact.¡±


    Superbia¡¯s glare sharpened, curiosity warring with fury in his eyes. ¡°Then indulge me,¡± he said, his tone dripping with mock politeness. ¡°What was the cost?¡±


    Iris laughed, a short, mirthless sound. ¡°The red book devours memories in order to fuel its abilities,¡± she explained. ¡°It has three main functions, granting me access to my future powers, letting me peer into my own future¡ªalong with other timelines, and one last ability I¡¯m not inclined to share.¡± A wicked smirk tugged at her mouth. ¡°Unlike Fate, I can choose which memories to discard. For about a second, I allowed myself to forget what your ugly face looked like. It was¡­ bliss.¡±


    Superbia¡¯s draconic eyes lit a dangerous gleam, and he clenched his jaw. ¡°That cursed book¡­ I should have destroyed it long ago.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t, because you need it,¡± Iris countered, her voice lilting with satisfaction. ¡°I¡¯m well aware of how tightly your plan is woven around that book. I can see the threads you¡¯ve tried so hard to conceal.¡±


    ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡± Superbia¡¯s grin widened, though anger pulsed beneath it. ¡°Your past self is reading letters from that book, and it doesn¡¯t burn Fate¡¯s memories away, not unless she actually activates its powers. You did warn her, didn¡¯t you, not to mess with it? Though, she disobeyed you already.¡±


    A flicker of concern rippled through Iris¡¯s confident fa?ade, but she kept her composure. ¡°Your plan won¡¯t work. Trust me on that. Now, tell me¡ªwhy do you only ever visit me? What of the other two you¡¯ve trapped?¡± She tried for a casual tone, though a note of genuine worry seeped in at the edges.


    ¡°Those two?¡± Superbia¡¯s answer dripped with boredom. ¡°One breaks so easily¡ªtorture grows dull when there¡¯s no novelty left. The other sleeps in an endless dream, his eternal paradise. Neither puts up half the fight you do.¡± He tilted his head in faux sympathy. ¡°You, my dear Iris, make it all so much more entertaining.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear I¡¯m meeting your standards,¡± Iris said coldly, crossing her arms. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll keep you entertained, if that¡¯s what it takes. Now stop delaying. Go back to narrating the past,¡±


    ¡°Whatever you say,¡± Superbia chuckled, his voice an echo of cold arrogance that seemed to rattle the very air.


    Back in the present¡­


    Iris stood in the center of the gym, the din of cheers and shouts and pounding hearts receding like distant thunder. Her face, streaked with sweat, bore a defeated expression. It was clear her team was losing ground, their losses mounting. Yet something in her eyes glowed with renewed purpose¡ªa flicker of raw, untapped potential. A sharp throb pulsed in her head, an ache that felt as though it might split her skull from within.


    She grimaced, fighting past the pain, scooping up two stray dodgeballs. With a trembling breath, she hurled both across the court. She had intended to arc them strategically, and force the enemy to scatter. But instead, a dark aura enveloped the balls, a shadow that crackled with unnatural energy.


    Without realizing it, Iris had activated her Authority of Nothing.


    At that moment, the distance between Sarah and Emily¡¯s heads and the thrown balls vanished¡ªbecame nothing. The effect manifested as a brief pulse of void-like energy, a flicker of black aura across the gymnasium floor. Then, before anyone could blink, the twins let out identical gasps of surprise. They were struck soundly in the temple by the sizzling rubber and, in the next heartbeat, both were eliminated from the game.


    A hush fell. The onlookers¡ªincluding teachers and fellow students¡ªstared, dumbfounded, at where the sisters had been standing. Neither Sarah nor Emily had even tried to dodge. How could they? The projectiles were simply¡­ there. As for Iris, a thin trickle of blood slid from her nose, testament to the strain of tapping into a power she only dimly understood.


    They stared at the fallen twins, then at Iris, still clutching her throbbing head, eyes glassy with pain and disbelief.


    ¡°What in the¡­?¡± Mrs. Stone muttered, echoing the silent question in everyone¡¯s minds.


    Baal cleared his throat, eyes narrowing. ¡°Jonathan, I must ask¡­ what is going on with the students this year?¡± His voice carried a tight edge, as though balancing concern and excitement.


    Jonathan tilted his head thoughtfully, concealing his own unease behind a measured calm. ¡°Care to enlighten me on what you mean, Baal?¡±


    Before Baal could respond, Wallace cut in with a resigned sigh. ¡°He means the classes are filled with freaks and monsters¡ªtwo different teams, both with an alarming number of absurd powers.¡± He ran a weary hand through his hair. ¡°This year¡¯s batch seems ready to tear holes in all laws of physics.¡±


    Baal nodded, drumming his fingers on the rail. ¡°Precisely. Two Authority users¡ªboth drenched in divine echoes¡ªone kid who can manipulate concepts like a demon king, another girl brimming with death energy. And one more secret I won¡¯t spoil¡­¡± He flicked his gaze toward Maxwell, who was hovering protectively on the court¡¯s far side.


    Jonathan exhaled slowly, as if considering many tangled threads. ¡°It¡¯s all part of a prophecy, I suppose. The sudden influx of prodigious and unstable talents means the world¡¯s poised on the brink of something cataclysmic. Noir¡ªone of our main enemies¡ªhas been ramping up their activity. We¡¯ve heard increased Boogeyman sightings across the globe, and even Michello, the Executioner of Japan¡¯s cult has become more brazen. Every one of A.E.G.I.S¡¯s enemies seems to be growing bolder.¡±


    He paused, glancing down at Iris, who was nearly on her knees, struggling with the aftermath of her own overwhelming power. ¡°I suspect this is just the beginning of far worse things to come.¡±


    While the other teachers and students had their eyes locked on Iris, Anastasia stood apart, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on a different figure. She paid no heed to the shock of Iris¡¯s sudden display of nothingness, nor to the twin¡¯s abrupt defeat. Instead, her focus lay solely on Maxwell, her attention so intent that she scarcely blinked. Under her breath, she whispered words no one else caught¡ªwords shaped by memories older and darker than anyone here could fathom.


    ¡°Young Master, Avaritia,¡± she murmured, the syllables slipping from her lips like an incantation.


    Some time ago, in the Abyss¡­


    Alicia stood outside a grand meeting room, her gloved hands fisted against the heavy doors. From within, she heard the unmistakable sound of chaos¡ªcries, trembling walls, the roar of twisted power.


    ¡°What is happening in there?¡± she demanded, her voice pitched with fear and urgency. ¡°Let me in! Let me in!¡± She slammed her body against the solid wood, pushing until her muscles burned, but the doors refused to yield. Desperation surged in her chest; she could only imagine the horrors unfolding inside. The King¡­ The Young Master¡­


    Suddenly, a shockwave rocked the entire fortress, so violent it felt as though reality itself cracked. The cataclysmic collision of Ira¡¯s Authority of Corruption and Superbia¡¯s Authority of Time pulsed through the Abyss, saturating every inch of it with violent, paradoxical energy. Alicia felt it bite into her flesh and soul, forcing her consciousness into darkness. In that final moment, she cried out for her King, and for the Young Master she had pledged to protect.


    She awoke with a start, perched atop a building that loomed over a darkened street. Her once-pristine maid uniform hung in tatters around a body she no longer recognized. Corruption and transformation had twisted her form, pinkish, sickly skin stretched over visible veins, her hair wild and knotted, her eyes bloodshot. Large, warped wings jutted from her back. Her fingers, sharpened, bestial claws, left grooves in the building¡¯s edge when she clutched it in confusion.


    A painful hunger gnawed at her. Not hunger for food, but for something¡­ more. She leaped from rooftop to rooftop, invisibility shrouding her like a cursed blessing, driven by an instinct that screamed at her to consume.


    Eventually, she found herself in a grimy alleyway, near a small figure huddled on the ground. A frail child lay there, coughing, each rasp a testament to an illness she could not overcome. The child, Anastasia, reached out into the empty space, somehow sensing Alicia¡¯s presence despite her shroud.


    ¡°S¡­ save me,¡± the girl pleaded weakly, tears shimmering in her feverish eyes. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t want¡­ to die¡­ not like¡­ Mommy¡­ Daddy¡­¡±


    Alicia felt pity well up inside her monstrous shell, a flicker of who she once was. Acting on a primal, desperate impulse, she tore open her own chest, extracting a chunk of demonic flesh¡ªher heart, beating and pulsating with infernal energy. Overwhelmed by an instinct to spare the child, she forced the organ into Anastasia¡¯s mouth.


    The effect was immediate and terrible to behold. Energy crackled around the young girl, the wretched sickness in her body purged by the alien organ. Her hair¡ªonce a pale, lifeless blonde¡ªfaded to a deep purple with a singular streak of golden hair left behind. The infection receded from her veins, replaced by the raw power that once belonged to Alicia.


    At that moment, their minds fused. Alicia¡¯s consciousness seeped into the child¡¯s, and Anastasia¡¯s mind devoured the demon¡¯s nightmares and memories in turn.


    ¡°Friend¡­¡± Anastasia asked in a trembling, newly empowered voice. ¡°Who¡­ who is Avaritia?¡±


    Alicia¡¯s voice resonated in the back of the girl¡¯s thoughts, calm yet laced with sorrow. ¡°He is the one we swore to protect. I don¡¯t know how we got here, but I know he¡¯s alive. I gave you my life¡ªmy everything¡ªto help me find and shield him.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Anastasia blinked, feeling her own soul now entwined with another¡¯s. The horrific transformation had stabilized into a single entity: the sweet-faced child with a demon¡¯s heart. She stood on shaky legs, a glimmer of determination in her wide eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll help you, Alicia. We¡¯ll find the Young Master.¡±


    Back in the gym¡­


    Anastasia¡¯s gaze lingered on Maxwell, unwavering. Her lavender hair¡ªshot through with that single golden streak¡ªwhispered a testament to that day in the alley. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, not fully her own, and she suppressed the quiver in her fingers. To the rest of the world, she was a cunning teacher wielding guns and toying with the students, but in her mind, she was the loyal Alicia, the demon maid, clinging to a vow made long ago in the Abyss.


    As she stood there among the chaos of the match, her lips moved imperceptibly. ¡°Young Master, Avaritia¡­ I¡¯ve found you at last.¡±


    Nobody else could hear her quiet confession, but if they had, they might have caught a glimpse of who truly lay behind Anastasia¡¯s eyes, a demoness¡¯ devotion, a child¡¯s borrowed life, and a mission still unfulfilled.


    Baal rose from his seat on the bleachers with a languid, almost feline grace. The clamorous echoes of dodgeballs striking walls and the distant shouts of students clashed in the background, but he seemed to move in his own unhurried tempo. He approached Anastasia, offering her a crooked, knowing smile that carried a hint of danger.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± he murmured as he leaned in, close enough for his breath to graze her ear. ¡°Normally, when one of us takes over a body, we fully suppress the host¡¯s mind. Yet you¡¯ve chosen to coexist with yours. Why is that?¡± His quiet question was threaded with curiosity, though the glint in his eyes betrayed deeper intentions.


    Anastasia met his gaze, unblinking. Even in the chaotic gym, her face remained stern and poised. ¡°Are you really the second demon king?¡± she asked, her tone low but edged with caution.


    Baal chuckled, the sound rolling from his throat like a predator¡¯s purr. ¡°Of course I am,¡± he said, letting the words hang. ¡°But enough about me. How about you? Why this fixation on that child?¡± He jerked his chin toward Maxwell, who was in the midst of orchestrating yet another ruthless attack. ¡°He smells a lot like the man who killed me,¡± Baal added with dark amusement.


    Anastasia¡¯s lips parted in a faint sneer. ¡°Avaritia is the Sin of Greed, and that child is Aether¡¯s son,¡± she explained, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice.


    A satisfied gleam flashed across Baal¡¯s draconic eyes. ¡°That explains it. I have quite a few questions for you, about the Abyss¡ªits current state and all¡ªbut first, you should know I told the humans what you really are,¡± he teased, lips curved in a playfully cruel smile.


    ¡°What the¡­ why would you do that?¡± Anastasia asked, alarm creeping into her voice. Her hold on the handle of her suitcase tightened, the metal buckles rattling softly.


    ¡°No need to fret,¡± Baal whispered with a slow shrug, ¡°I plan to protect you¡­ so long as you remain useful to me.¡±


    Anastasia swallowed hard, emotions flickering across her face. ¡°F-fine. I¡¯ll tell you what I know,¡± she said at last. Then, she took a breath and ventured a question of her own. ¡°But first¡ªare you really in love with Mia? Or is it just a show?¡±


    Baal¡¯s smile shifted from taunting to strangely sincere. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m in love with her. Did you think I¡¯d bother faking that?¡± His eyes roamed the gym, scanning Mia for a fleeting moment.


    ¡°How¡­ odd,¡± Anastasia remarked, baffled by the genuine tone that crept into his voice. She¡¯d half expected him to make a dismissive joke. Instead, he¡¯d sounded earnest.


    A shadow of a smirk lingered on Baal¡¯s lips. ¡°Since I answered your question, let me pose one of my own.¡± He cast a sidelong glance at Alice, who looked overwhelmed but determined on the court. ¡°Did you know that girl over there¡ªAlice¡ªis Avaritia¡¯s sister?¡±


    Anastasia jolted, her eyes snapping wide. ¡°W¡ªwhat? How is that even possible? Then why was she never brought to the Abyss?¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to know?¡± Baal said with a theatrical shrug. ¡°The Bookkeeper might enlighten me later¡ªhe has a penchant for prying secrets out of history. Until then¡­¡± His gaze returned to the ongoing battle, where dodgeballs soared like missiles and flames crackled in defiance. ¡°Let¡¯s enjoy the rest of this match.¡±


    On the Alpha Facilities side, only three remained: Iris, her fiery determination blazing like an open flame; Anya, carving new faces into any stray dodgeballs to animate them as living dolls; and Alice, quiet and uncertain, yet harboring an ability that even she barely understood. Their postures were tense, the sting of prior losses etched into their expressions. Iris scanned the court, sweat trailing down her brow, while Anya hummed under her breath, twisting a small icey blade in her hands. Alice stood slightly behind them, biting her lip, wrestling worried how this match would go.


    On the Beta Facilities side,  Maxwell floated a few feet above the court, gilded wings fanning the air. His swords of light gleamed in his grip, evidence of his unstoppable resolve. Cynthia, clutching her arm and hiding her curse as best she could, tried to focus, though her body trembled from waves of nausea and pain. Noah, still as a statue, listened intently to the ricochet of dodgeballs and the rasp of anxious breaths, pinpointing openings with an uncanny, preternatural intuition.


    For a moment, a tense hush settled over the gym. The spectators, both in the gym and elsewhere, from beyond both time and space, teachers, gods, and demons¡ªholding their breath. Both teams eyed one another, knowing the next elimination would tip the balance further.


    Iris inhaled sharply, brandishing her sword of flames. ¡°We have to act now,¡± she muttered. ¡°If we sit back, Maxwell and Noah will pick us off.¡±


    Anya flashed a devious grin. ¡°Let me handle him. I¡¯ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.¡± She cast a sidelong glance at Alice, who remained silent, her gaze flicking between Maxwell and Noah. ¡°You just survive, I doubt you¡¯ll be of much help.¡±


    Alice nodded, wordless, pale, but resolute. A subtle glow flickered in her eyes as she steeled herself for what she might need to do.


    Maxwell moved first, the sound of his wings beating softly as he launched a flurry of dodgeballs in a sweeping arc. Each sphere whirled through the air with pinpoint precision¡ªone aimed at Iris, another at Anya, and two more bearing down on Alice from disparate angles. The gym fell momentarily silent, like the pause before a thunderstorm, and then the crowd erupted into shouts and gasps as the balls neared their targets.


    Iris felt her pulse quicken. She braced herself, flames already flickering at her fingertips. At the last possible moment, she thrust her palm outward, igniting a gust of searing heat that surged from her core. The oncoming ball exploded in mid-flight, rubber scraps disintegrating into a brief shower of hot embers.


    A triumphant spark danced in Iris¡¯s eyes. She had no time to celebrate, though¡ªher gaze darted to the rest of the field, where chaos raged like a living beast.


    Anya was equally prepared. Rather than raise a defensive shield, she spun on her heels and snatched up a nearby ball, swiftly carving a crude face into its surface with her small ice knife. In a single heartbeat, she drove a crimson orb into the ¡°mouth,¡± bringing the ball to life. The newly awakened sphere bolted forward with surprising agility, intercepting Maxwell¡¯s projectile in mid-air. The two rubber missiles collided, bursting in a spray of shredded fragments. A smirk tugged at Anya¡¯s lips as she licked away the sweat gathering on her upper lip. Alive or not, she thought, every ball can be used in more ways than one.


    Alice, however, had a different response. A chill ran down her spine as she felt the twin dodgeballs barreling toward her. Her eyes flared with a faint, ethereal light¡ªher Authority of Reality stirring from within. She didn¡¯t move an inch, only let her power bloom in that singular heartbeat.


    In an instant, both dodgeballs rippled and warped, as though submerged in an unseen vortex. The rubber membranes took on a ghostly shimmer, stretching and distorting into large, weightless bubbles. They hovered around Alice, luminous in the gym¡¯s fluorescent lights, wobbling gently but posing no threat whatsoever.


    Iris¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°She turned them into¡­ bubbles?¡± she gasped, her own pulse still hammering from her earlier exertion. Sweat glistened on her temple, and she pushed a trembling hand through her hair to steady herself. Cynthia, nearby, breathed a shuddering sigh, hands balled into fists as she tried to keep her cursed power locked down within.


    From across the court, Noah inclined his head with sharp attentiveness. Though blind, he picked up on the subtle pop-pop of singed fragments drifting to the floor. His mind quickly filled in the rest, discerning the altered flow of air and the soft shift in Alice¡¯s footsteps. He wasn¡¯t entirely certain what she had done, but he could tell something fundamental in the dodgeballs¡¯ nature had been changed. Another monstrous power, he thought, not without a tinge of awe.


    The tension in the gym was palpable as Anya seized the opening created by Alice¡¯s clever maneuver. Her grin widened, feral and mischievous. ¡°Iris, cover me!¡± she shouted, deftly carving a face into another dodgeball. The crimson glow of her power infused the ball with a sinister vitality before she hurled it toward Maxwell, the animated sphere snarling mid-flight.


    ¡°I¡¯m on it!¡± Iris roared, twin arcs of fire spiraling from her hands. Her flames cut a blazing path across the court, aimed directly at Cynthia, forcing her to retreat. Cynthia, already struggling with her own dark energy threatening to surface, barely managed to evade the fiery assault. Sweat poured down her pale face as she stumbled back, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.


    Maxwell, hovering midair, twisted gracefully. With a sweep of his glowing sword, he cleaved Anya¡¯s living dodgeball in two, the halves disintegrating into harmless shards. His eyes locked on Iris and Anya below, calculating his next move as his wings flared, the radiant feathers casting a soft glow over the battlefield.


    From the center of the court, Noah made his move. Silent and precise, he stepped forward, hurling a perfectly aimed dodgeball at Anya¡¯s exposed side. The ball streaked through the air like a missile, but at the last moment, Anya flattened herself to the floor. The ball zipped overhead, missing her by barely an inch.


    Alice, meanwhile, stood at the back of the court, trembling from the strain of her ability. Her Authority of Reality flickered faintly, the telltale glow around her eyes dimming as exhaustion gnawed at her resolve. She inhaled sharply, steadying herself as she calculated her next play.


    Her bubbles, still floating harmlessly above the court, caught a faint shimmer of the gym''s fluorescent lights. Manipulating them with delicate precision, Alice guided them toward their target: Noah, who had unwittingly positioned himself beneath them, his focus on the surrounding chaos.


    No one noticed the shift at first. Maxwell was locked in aerial combat, parrying flaming arrows from Iris. Cynthia was desperately dodging the relentless waves of heat, her dark power surging erratically. Even Anya, usually attuned to every detail, was preoccupied with carving and animating another ball.


    But Noah noticed. He tilted his head slightly, his instincts whispering that something was wrong. The air around him felt denser, heavier. His lips pressed into a thin line, his unseeing eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint the source of the disturbance.


    Then, Alice released her hold.


    The bubbles shimmered briefly before snapping back to their original forms¡ªtwo solid dodgeballs¡ªdirectly over Noah¡¯s head. With a dull thunk-thunk, both balls struck their target. The force was enough to stagger Noah, and he dropped to one knee, stunned by the unexpected assault.


    ¡°Noah is out!¡± Mrs. Stone¡¯s voice echoed across the gym, a mix of astonishment and subdued pride. Gasps erupted from the spectators, many unable to believe that Alice, the quiet and reserved member of the team, had orchestrated such a brilliant play.


    A hush settled over the court, a brief moment where even the ongoing chaos seemed to pause. Noah, ever composed, took a deep breath. He stood slowly, brushing off his clothes as if the attack hadn¡¯t rattled him in the slightest. With a faint incline of his head, he acknowledged his elimination.


    Walking off the court with measured steps, Noah joined the growing ranks of eliminated players¡ªCharles, Xavier, Rook, the twins, and others who had fallen. The quiet dignity of his retreat contrasted with the adrenaline-fueled chaos still raging on the court.


    From the bleachers, Baal leaned forward, his expression one of faint amusement. ¡°Alice¡­ I didn¡¯t expect her to pull that off. Seems even the quiet ones can surprise you.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s starting to awaken to her powers fully,¡± Wallace muttered, his gaze flickering toward Jonathan, a rare edge of concern in his usually calm demeanor. ¡°The suppressants we¡¯ve been using on her abilities¡ªif they¡¯re even working anymore¡ªaren¡¯t going to hold much longer. Are you sure you¡¯re prepared for what¡¯s coming next?¡±


    Jonathan didn¡¯t answer right away. His eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed on the court where the game continued to rage, yet his mind seemed elsewhere. For a brief moment, a shadow of uncertainty passed across his face¡ªa crack in the otherwise unshakable exterior of the man tasked with managing the impossible.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jonathan finally admitted, his voice low, almost reverent. ¡°I truly don¡¯t know.¡±


    The gym fell silent for an instant, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Around them, the remaining players continued to clash, oblivious to the gravity of the situation. But to the teachers and spectators who understood the stakes, it felt like the prelude to something far greater¡ªand far more dangerous¡ªthan a simple dodgeball game.

 Chapter 60-Spiders Web

    ¡°Wallace,¡± Jonathan began, his tone clipped but edged with urgency, ¡°I assume we don¡¯t have any stronger ability suppressants to limit her?¡± His sharp gaze remained fixed on the court, where the energy of the game threatened to spiral into something uncontrollable.


    Wallace leaned back in his seat, exhaling heavily. ¡°I gave her the same type we provide to low-level inmates at Area 51. Anything stronger, and we run the risk of killing her outright. It¡¯s already a gamble with what she¡¯s on now. If we¡¯re going to push beyond that, we¡¯ll need to request help from the Bookkeeper.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°You¡¯re already in debt to him. Could you ask for the favor?¡±


    A resigned groan escaped Wallace¡¯s lips. ¡°You people never want me to get out of this damn debt, do you? It¡¯s always something.¡±


    ¡°If we can just hold off until she¡¯s older,¡± Jonathan muttered, his words tinged with an odd mix of hope and apprehension, ¡°then the boss¡¯s seals will be safe for her.¡±


    ¡°Safe?¡± Wallace snapped, his frustration evident in the sudden sharpness of his voice. ¡°Markus had those seals placed on him when he was thirteen. Were they not safe for him?¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s expression darkened, his shoulders tensing as if carrying a heavy burden. ¡°Markus is a special case. The boss couldn¡¯t afford to take any risks with him. If he had gone out of control¡­¡± He paused, his voice dropping to a grim murmur. ¡°¡­he could have cleaved the world in half.¡±


    Wallace scoffed, crossing his arms. ¡°And you think this girl is any less dangerous? The energy she¡¯s putting out right now is enough to destroy this entire facility, and she¡¯s only getting stronger.¡±


    Jonathan didn¡¯t reply, his attention drawn back to the match as the game''s final moments began to unfold. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the unrelenting pressure of mounting stakes.


    On the court, Maxwell shifted his strategy, his keen eyes narrowing as he zeroed in on Alice. To him, she was the biggest remaining threat¡ªa quiet, unassuming powerhouse whose Authority of Reality had already proven devastating. His throws became more calculated, each dodgeball a precisely aimed missile meant to eliminate her.


    But Maxwell¡¯s assault was met with fierce resistance. Anya, ever mischievous and unpredictable, animated stray dodgeballs to intercept his throws, her creations colliding mid-air with his. Iris, her fiery determination burning hotter than ever, burned away projectiles with arcs of flame that sizzled and popped in the gymnasium¡¯s echoing air. And Alice, with the faint glow of her Authority, flickering in her tired eyes, turned the remaining balls into bubbles that drifted harmlessly above the court.


    Despite the overwhelming odds, Maxwell remained undeterred. His wings flared behind him, the glow of his radiant feathers casting shifting shadows across the gym. He was relentless, his strikes growing sharper, faster, and more precise.


    Meanwhile, hope flickered in Iris¡¯s chest. For the first time, she began to believe they had a chance. With most of the Beta Facility¡¯s team eliminated, only Maxwell posed a true threat. Cynthia, though still technically in the game, had contributed little since her earlier surge of dark energy. Her presence on the court seemed almost spectral, as though she were clinging to the edges of relevance, lucky to have evaded elimination thus far.


    Iris tightened her grip on her flame-forged sword, her eyes darting between Maxwell and her remaining teammates. They had to end this¡ªand soon¡ªbefore Maxwell¡¯s relentless assault shattered the fragile balance they had managed to maintain.


    The bubbles hovered above Alice, shimmering faintly in the gym¡¯s fluorescent lights like fragile dreams waiting to be shattered. She focused intently on maintaining their integrity, her breath steady but strained. In the ethereal silence of the Library of Fate, Pandora leaned back with a wicked grin etched across his face, his golden eyes glinting with malevolence.


    ¡°Now, my dear siblings,¡± Pandora began, his voice a smooth melody of malice, ¡°it¡¯s time I set my plan in motion. Let¡¯s start by killing the Demon King¡¯s daughter, shall we?¡±


    Eden shot to her feet, her fiery aura flaring. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare, Pandora! She isn¡¯t part of this game, and you know it!¡±


    ¡°Oh, but she is now,¡± Pandora replied, his tone almost gleeful. ¡°The gods who aren¡¯t of this world have chosen to meddle in our little game. Did you honestly think I would settle for removing only the immediate competition? No, no. Every one of those interlopers will perish, Eden.¡±


    Fate¡¯s calm demeanor didn¡¯t waver, though a subtle smirk tugged at his lips as he sipped his tea. ¡°I thought your raid sometime ago was already daring.  Two targets seemed ambitious enough, brother. But going after five at once? That¡¯s sheer lunacy.¡±


    Eden¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°Five? I only count three, Iris, Maxwell, and Alice. What are you talking about?¡±


    Fate set his teacup down delicately, his voice steady as he explained, ¡°There are six gods involved in this game, each with their champions. The Cosmos, in their meddling, chose two champions, he chose to divide his power into two individuals.¡±


    Eden¡¯s jaw clenched as she processed his words. ¡°Who are these other champions?¡±


    ¡°Frank Stein and Lovecraft,¡± Fate replied smoothly, his smirk growing wider. ¡°The pawns of the Cosmos.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you¡¯d figure it out,¡± Pandora interjected, his voice laced with mockery. ¡°But why stop there? Let¡¯s watch as Alice meets her end, shall we?¡± He raised his hand, his Authority igniting like a sinister flame. ¡°Authority of Error: Error of Reality.¡±


    Back in the gym, the air around Alice¡¯s shimmering bubbles warped and twisted unnaturally. In an instant, the translucent spheres solidified into jagged, weighty rocks. Without warning, they began to plummet toward her. To everyone else, it appeared as though she had completely lost control of her ability.


    Gasps and shouts erupted from the bleachers as the stones descended, but before anyone could react, a streak of motion blurred across the court.


    Baal moved.


    In a heartbeat, he was beside Alice, his massive frame shielding her from the descending rocks. One particularly large stone struck his leg, crushing it with a sickening crunch. The pain was excruciating, but he didn¡¯t falter. His demonic physiology worked swiftly, knitting the shattered bones back together even as he crouched over Alice protectively.


    The rocks thudded heavily around them, the sound echoing ominously through the stunned gymnasium. The last stone landed with a deafening crash, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.


    Alice, overwhelmed by the sudden chaos, fainted in Baal¡¯s arms. Her small frame seemed even more delicate as he scooped her up, carrying her to the bleachers with uncharacteristic gentleness.


    Wallace rushed over, his face etched with frustration. ¡°She¡¯s stable,¡± he muttered after a quick examination, his voice tight with concern. ¡°But this is exactly why I was worried. Her ability isn¡¯t under control.¡±


    Baal sighed, his draconic eyes narrowing. ¡°She¡¯s alive, that¡¯s what matters. But there¡¯s something¡­ off.¡± He sniffed the air, his lips curling in annoyance. ¡°Something smells awful. Rotten.¡±


    Wallace frowned, glancing around. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Baal didn¡¯t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the crushed rocks and the faint, almost imperceptible aura of Pandora¡¯s interference. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he muttered at last, his expression hardening. ¡°Just keep an eye on her.¡±


    The gym¡¯s atmosphere remained tense, the other students and teachers shaken by the near-tragedy. But for Baal, the deeper implications were clear¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just a game anymore.


    In the future, Future Iris leaned back, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as the timeline unfolded exactly as she had predicted.  ¡°Well, then,¡± she said, her voice sharp and commanding, ¡°let¡¯s not waste time. I need to send the message to my past self before this opportunity slips away.¡±


    Superbia smirked, his draconic eyes glowing with malevolent amusement. ¡°Of course, my dear. I am, after all, a man of my word. But don¡¯t get too comfortable. This won¡¯t be the last bet we make. Mark my words¡ªas the sole god of this wretched world, I will make you submit to me.¡±


    Future Iris¡¯s eyes narrowed, her expression dripping with disdain. ¡°You¡¯re such a walking contradiction, it¡¯s almost laughable. You detest how the gods looked down on you, yet you have an insatiable fetish for lording over everyone else. Just listen to yourself¡ªcalling yourself a god, as if that title means anything. Honestly? You¡¯re pathetic.¡±


    Superbia¡¯s grin widened, his pride feeding off her fury. ¡°Oh, my dear Iris, that fiery tongue of yours is one of the reasons I find you so delightful. Sticks and stones. Say whatever you want¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve already won. This is nothing more than a victory lap for me.¡± He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a sinister whisper. ¡°I¡¯m ten steps ahead of you, and you haven¡¯t even figured out what game we¡¯re playing. Go ahead¡ªsend your message. But be warned, the other Authority users will see you as well.¡±


    In the present, the gymnasium fell silent as time itself froze. Only those with Authority-type abilities could move. Iris, Maxwell, Baal, and the unconscious Alice remained unaffected by the temporal stasis. The stillness was suffocating, the air heavy with anticipation. Then, in the center of the court, a shimmering figure began to take shape.


    Future Iris manifested as an astral projection, her form glowing faintly with temporal energy. Her presence was commanding, her gaze sharp and knowing. To the bystanders frozen in time, she was an enigma. To the Authority users, she was a revelation.


    ¡°Iris,¡± Future Iris said, her voice calm yet urgent, ¡°it¡¯s good to finally meet you.¡±


    Iris blinked, her flames flickering uncertainly. ¡°Are you¡­ me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Future Iris replied. ¡°But there¡¯s no time for pleasantries. We need to act quickly.¡±


    Baal¡¯s non-existent eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his towering presence radiating suspicion. ¡°Who are you, really? I know there¡¯s an Authority of Time, but even its user wouldn¡¯t allow someone to manipulate the past so recklessly.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Maxwell nodded, his swords of light dissipating as he analyzed the situation. ¡°I agree. Superbia isn¡¯t the type to hand over that kind of power.¡±


    Future Iris glanced at them both, a flicker of warmth crossing her face. ¡°Baal, Avaritia¡ªit¡¯s good to see you again. Although, I suppose for you, this is the first time we¡¯re meeting. Time is¡­ complicated.¡± Her expression hardened as she turned toward Cynthia. ¡°Superbia and I made a deal¡ªnot by choice. His plan is about to unfold.¡±


    In the Library of Fate, Pandora slammed his hand on the table, his eyes blazing with fury. ¡°What the hell is this? First Baal interrupts, and now this astral interference? Fate, is this your doing?¡±


    Fate¡¯s usually serene expression faltered, a rare tremor of unease creeping into his voice. ¡°N-no, it¡¯s not me. I¡­ I genuinely have no idea what¡¯s happening. For the first time, I¡¯m completely in the dark.¡±


    Pandora sneered, leaning forward. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, brother. If you¡¯re trying to pull some last-minute trick¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Eden snapped, silencing the argument. Her gaze remained fixed on the shimmering image of Future Iris, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. ¡°Just listen to what she has to say.¡±


    ¡°The man who attacked this facility has set another plan into motion,¡± Future Iris said, her voice carrying an edge of exhaustion. ¡°Superbia¡¯s interference has turned what should have been a normal event into utter chaos.¡±


    Iris clenched her fists, her flames flaring brighter. ¡°I knew Anya would ruin everything.¡±


    Future Iris gave a faint, tired smile. ¡°Though she¡¯s untrustworthy, she¡¯s not the cause of the disaster. The true culprit is Cynthia.¡±


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he turned to his trembling classmate. ¡°Cynthia? What does she have to do with this?¡±


    Future Iris¡¯s projection began to flicker, cracks forming across her astral form. She winced, her time running out. ¡°I don¡¯t have much longer. Be ready¡ªa fight is coming. And to those watching¡­¡± Her gaze shifted, piercing through the dimensions to meet the eyes of the gods in the Library. ¡°Don¡¯t delude yourselves into thinking this plan is yours alone. You¡¯re playing his game.¡±


    With that, the projection shattered into countless fragments of light, leaving the gym in stunned silence. The frozen time resumed its flow, the weight of Future Iris¡¯s warning settling heavily over those who understood its implications.


    Pandora grinned wickedly, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. ¡°I was going to give a nice, detailed explanation on how to create a Dead Face,¡± he sneered. ¡°But where¡¯s the fun in that? Everyone panics when a bomb drops unexpectedly. So let¡¯s skip the theatrics and unleash the horror.¡±


    In the gymnasium, all eyes turned toward Cynthia. She clutched her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as if trying to pull something unseen out of her mind. Blood trickled from her nose and eyes, the crimson streaks carving paths down her pale, trembling face.


    ¡°Cynthia!¡± Maxwell shouted, rushing toward her, but an invisible force pushed him back. He stumbled, his wings flaring instinctively, unable to get closer.


    Within Cynthia¡¯s mind, the torment reached a crescendo. A voice echoed, sharp and cruel, reverberating like shattered glass.


    ¡°You pitiful fool,¡± Caleb¡¯s voice hissed, laced with venom. The ghostly figure of the decapitated boy manifested before her, his lifeless eyes glinting with a sinister glee. ¡°All this time, I¡¯ve tormented you, and you never realized the truth.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Cynthia gasped, her voice raw with desperation. Tears mixed with blood streaked her cheeks. ¡°Why are you doing this? Please¡­ just stop.¡±


    Caleb¡¯s form twisted, warping grotesquely until it mirrored Cynthia herself. But this doppelg?nger was nightmarish, her skin was gray and rotting, her lips pulled back in a perpetual, decayed grin, her hands clutching her head as if in agony.


    ¡°This is the truth,¡± Caleb¡ªor the figure that now embodied her fears¡ªspoke, its voice distorted. ¡°I¡¯m not the dead one, Cynthia. You are, I never even existed.¡±


    The weight of the revelation crushed her. Memories flooded her mind, the walls of her psyche crumbling under the assault.


    A few days before Cynthia entered the Beta Facility.


    Cynthia¡¯s world was idyllic, a snapshot of innocence and happiness. She strolled down a nighttime street with her parents, a double-scoop strawberry ice cream cone clutched in her small hands. Her dad held one of her hands while her mom walked alongside them, laughing at a joke her husband had just told. Cynthia beamed, her cheeks flushed with joy as she licked her ice cream.


    She didn¡¯t see the man until it was too late.


    Bumping into him, she spilled her ice cream onto his chest. Her wide, startled eyes darted up to meet his face. He was strikingly handsome, with medium-length blonde hair framing his face like a movie star. His maroon hoodie with fur trim and his black pants gave him an air of casual sophistication. But it was his eyes¡ªblood-red and filled with disdain¡ªthat rooted her in place.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Cynthia¡¯s mother said quickly, stepping forward with a napkin to clean the man¡¯s hoodie. ¡°Here, let me help.¡±


    The man¡¯s lips curled into a lazy smile, but his gaze was cold and predatory. ¡°Oh, no need to worry about it,¡± he said, his voice dripping with mock kindness. ¡°Just do me a favor.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s parents froze, sensing the shift in the air.


    ¡°Of course,¡± her mother said nervously. ¡°What can we do?¡±


    The man¡¯s smile widened into something feral. ¡°Die.¡±


    In a heartbeat, his arm lashed out. His fist collided with Cynthia¡¯s father¡¯s face, tearing his jaw clean off. Blood sprayed across the sidewalk as her dad crumpled, his body convulsing.


    ¡°Dad!¡± Cynthia screamed, frozen in place, her ice cream cone dropping to the ground.


    Her mother acted on instinct, scooping Cynthia into her arms and running. ¡°Don¡¯t look back, sweetheart,¡± she said, her voice trembling but firm. ¡°Look at Mom. Just look at Mom.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s sobs wracked her small frame as she clutched at her mother¡¯s shirt. ¡°Is Dad okay? Mom, is Dad okay?¡±


    Her mother didn¡¯t answer, her breath coming in frantic gasps as she ran.


    Behind them, the man¡ªFaker, the embodiment of fear, the Boogeyman, licked the blood from his knuckles, his expression one of pure ecstasy. ¡°Oh, I do love it when they run,¡± he said, his voice a chilling sing-song. His boot came down on Cynthia¡¯s father¡¯s head with a sickening crunch, the sound echoing in Cynthia¡¯s ears.


    Cynthia¡¯s mother sprinted through the dimly lit streets, clutching her child as though her very life depended on it¡ªbecause it did. Her legs burned, her breath came in ragged gasps, but she dared not stop. Behind her, she could feel the looming presence of something no human could outrun. Faker was a predator, a monster who thrived on fear and despair, and no amount of distance could separate them from his inevitable pursuit.


    She rounded a corner, darting past an alleyway, but before she could take another step, a vice-like grip seized her arm. In an instant, she was yanked backward, the force sending her tumbling to the cold, unforgiving ground. Her body shielded Cynthia¡¯s, her arms instinctively wrapping around her daughter in a desperate attempt to protect her.


    ¡°Please!¡± she cried, her voice trembling with raw desperation. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her child tightly. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt my daughter. Do whatever you want to me, just leave her alone!¡±


    Faker crouched before them, his expression a grotesque mockery of sympathy. He tilted his head, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as he reached out, gripping Cynthia¡¯s mother by the chin. His touch was cold, inhuman, and she shivered under his gaze.


    ¡°Oh, those sweet, sweet words,¡± Faker cooed, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°You¡¯re not the first to beg like this, you know. Mothers say the same thing every time, as if it¡¯ll change anything. Let me show you how much it doesn¡¯t.¡±


    His arm began to bubble and writhe, the flesh twisting unnaturally until it formed a grotesque totem pole of miniature, decapitated heads. Each face was that of a crying woman, their frozen expressions twisted in anguish. There were at least twenty-five of them, their dead eyes staring blankly ahead.


    In a sickeningly harmonious chorus, the heads spoke: ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt my daughter. Do whatever you want to me, just leave her alone.¡±


    The sound was like nails scraping against glass, an echo of despair so profound it chilled her to her core. Cynthia¡¯s mother recoiled in horror, her wide eyes locked on the abomination before her. Her mind screamed that this was a nightmare, but no waking would come.


    Realizing the futility of reason, she did the only thing she could. ¡°Cynthia, run!¡± she shouted, her voice breaking as she released her grip on her daughter. ¡°Run, baby, please run!¡±


    Tears streamed down Cynthia¡¯s cheeks as she stumbled to her feet, her small legs carrying her as far and as fast as they could. She glanced back only once, her mother¡¯s desperate cries urging her forward.


    Faker let out a theatrical sigh, his voice tinged with mock disappointment. ¡°What a shame,¡± he said, standing and brushing nonexistent dust from his maroon hoodie. ¡°They always say the same thing. But sometimes, the kids fight back. It¡¯s adorable, really.¡±


    The heads on his grotesque arm shifted, morphing into the faces of children, their expressions twisted with fear and defiance. In eerie unison, they spoke: ¡°Leave my mother alone. Get away, you monster.¡±


    Cynthia¡¯s mother screamed, her desperation turning to fury as she threw herself at Faker. She clawed, punched, and kicked, each movement fueled by a primal instinct to protect her child. Faker didn¡¯t even flinch. With a bored expression, he raised his hands and clapped them together with a deafening crack.


    Her head exploded between his palms, the sound akin to a watermelon smashed with sledgehammers. Blood sprayed in every direction, painting the walls and ground in crimson. Her lifeless body crumpled to the ground, a grotesque testament to her love and sacrifice.


    Cynthia¡¯s legs gave out as she tripped on the uneven pavement. Before she could rise, Faker was upon her. He grabbed her by the collar of her dress, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. She dangled like a broken doll, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.


    ¡°Sweet dreams,¡± Faker whispered, his voice soft and mocking. ¡°Goodnight.¡±


    In one swift, brutal motion, his hand blurred. Cynthia¡¯s head fell to the ground with a dull thud, her body collapsing moments later. Blood pooled around her small frame, soaking into the cracks of the concrete.


    Faker stood over the lifeless bodies, his smile as wide as ever. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of death and despair. ¡°They aren¡¯t even worth eating,¡± he mused, flicking a speck of blood from his sleeve. ¡°But they¡¯ll make for a lovely little message. The public should be properly terrified.¡±


    With that, Faker turned and walked away, leaving behind a scene of unimaginable horror. His laughter echoed through the empty streets, a chilling reminder of the monster that had taken everything from Cynthia in the span of mere moments.


    Cynthia fell to her knees, clutching her head as if trying to physically hold herself together. Blood streamed from her nose and eyes, mingling with her tears. Her breathing turned ragged, each gasp carrying the weight of her fractured psyche. Around her, the gym seemed to darken, the fluorescent lights dimming as if consumed by the encroaching shadow of her unraveling self.


    A flicker of darkness danced across her face, an eerie light that twisted and churned like a living thing. Her veins pulsed with a sickly purple glow, creeping across her pale skin like cracks in porcelain. Her body convulsed as the energy within her built to a crescendo, uncontainable and desperate for release.


    ¡°Help me!¡± Cynthia cried, her voice a fractured wail that reverberated across the court.


    The surrounding air grew heavy, oppressive, filled with the overwhelming stench of rot and decay. Then, with a bone-rattling roar, a barrier erupted from her. The dark energy surged outward, forming a dome that enclosed the court in an impenetrable shroud of death energy. The barrier hissed and crackled, its surface swirling with black tendrils that lashed out like serpents.


    Inside the barrier, Maxwell, Iris, and Anya froze, their instincts screaming at them to prepare for the worst. The energy was suffocating, oppressive in its malevolence.


    ¡°Cynthia, no!¡± Maxwell shouted, his wings flaring as he stepped toward her.


    But it was too late.


    Cynthia rose to her feet, her movements jerky and unnatural. Her face was obscured by the darkness, her features consumed by the shadowy mass that writhed and twisted around her like a living void. Her once-kind eyes were gone, replaced by empty, glowing voids that oozed malice. The veins on her arms glowed brighter, her hands now claw-like, dripping with black energy that seemed to devour the very air around them.


    Tendrils of death energy shot out from her, writhing like snakes, leaving trails of decay wherever they touched. The floor beneath her feet blackened and cracked, the gymnasium creaking ominously, as if the structure itself were recoiling from her presence.


    From the infinite expanse of the library, Pandora leaned forward in his chair, a wicked grin stretching across his face. ¡°Now this is what I was waiting for. Watch closely, siblings. Watch as your precious children drop dead, one by one.¡±

 Chapter 61-Error

    ¡°So, brother,¡± Pandora began, his grin stretching unnervingly wide, ¡°care to learn how I make my lovely Dead Faces? It¡¯s quite a neat little trick.¡±


    Fate set his teacup down with deliberate slowness, his sharp eyes narrowing. ¡°Oh, do indulge me,¡± he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯m simply dying to know.¡±


    Eden stood at the edge of the library, her fiery aura dim but simmering, as she watched the disaster unfold in the gymnasium. Her hands trembled, gripping the edge of the table as her brothers exchanged words. Worry etched deep lines into her otherwise radiant face.


    ¡°I went around looking for corpses,¡± Pandora began, his tone casual, as if discussing a mundane hobby. ¡°They¡¯re plentiful these days, with the supernatural running rampant. The Boogeyman¡¯s been particularly busy¡ªplaying with his victims, especially the children. Always loved that little rumor of him hiding under their beds. But recently, his numbers have soared. It¡¯s almost poetic.¡±


    Eden flinched at the mention of the Boogeyman, her fists clenching tighter.


    Fate raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. ¡°I wonder,¡± he said, his tone mild yet cutting, ¡°if that¡¯s just coincidence¡­ or if someone¡¯s pulling your strings.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Oh, dear Fate, always spinning your little theories. Let me finish my masterpiece of an explanation, will you?¡± He spread his arms theatrically.


    ¡°After I find a corpse, I fuse it back to life with my Authorities of Death and Error. But I don¡¯t stop there. You see, a simple revival is boring¡ªpredictable. No, I manipulate their memories with my Authority of Memories. I make them forget their deaths entirely, instead implanting the guilt of having killed a loved one. A deliciously cruel twist, don¡¯t you think? They see their supposed victim everywhere¡ªvisions of them, haunting them. It¡¯s poetic torment. As their body begins to break down from the residual death energy, their mind crumbles under the weight of their false guilt.¡±


    Pandora paused, savoring the revulsion spreading across Eden¡¯s face.


    ¡°Once they¡¯re teetering on the edge of madness, I deliver the final blow,¡± he continued, his grin widening. ¡°I reveal the truth¡ªthe way their ¡®victim¡¯ died is actually how they themselves died. The shock, the despair, and the lingering death energy combine to create a Dead Face. A creature driven by madness, consuming lives to stabilize its broken form. But the trick, my dear siblings, is that they¡¯ll never truly stabilize¡ªnot without losing all control. A perfect little killing machine, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Eden slammed her fists on the table, the wood cracking under her strength. ¡°You¡¯re a monster!¡± she shouted, her fiery aura flaring brighter. ¡°Toying with lives like this¡ªmanipulating their memories, forcing them to kill¡ªit¡¯s sick!¡±


    Pandora turned to her, his expression one of mock innocence. ¡°And reviving that child over and over isn¡¯t?¡± he retorted smoothly. ¡°Face it, dearest sister¡ªyou¡¯re no better than me. At least I¡¯m honest about what I do.¡±


    Eden¡¯s hands went to the axe at her back, her body trembling with fury.


    Pandora leaned forward, his eyes glowing with malice. ¡°We could end this game right now,¡± he offered, his voice soft but insidious. ¡°Just agree to kill Fate and his champion, and I¡¯ll spare yours. You were never my real target, Eden. It¡¯s him I want. You¡¯ve been dragged into this mess because of your foolish loyalty. But it doesn¡¯t have to end this way. Join me.¡±


    He stretched out a hand toward her, his smile widening as if he already knew her answer.


    Eden¡¯s response was immediate and violent. With a roar of rage, she drew her axe in one swift motion, bringing it down on Pandora¡¯s outstretched hand. The severed limb fell to the ground, but almost instantly, the damage unraveled. His hand reformed as if time itself had rewound the act.


    Pandora chuckled, wiggling his fingers playfully. ¡°Temper, temper,¡± he teased. ¡°I take it that¡¯s a no?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± Eden hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. ¡°I won¡¯t join you, you bastard.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin stretched wider, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. ¡°So be it, sister. But remember this¡ªwhen the children of the man you loved die, it¡¯s on you. Those two could have been your children if he had chosen you. And wouldn¡¯t that be so much sadder? Watching your children die instead of his?¡±


    Eden¡¯s grip on her axe tightened, her fiery aura flaring dangerously. But Pandora¡¯s words hung heavy in the air, each one sinking into her heart like a barbed hook.


    Fate, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke, his tone sharp and dismissive. ¡°Enough games, Pandora. If you want to gloat, do it somewhere else. I have no interest in your theatrics.¡±


    Pandora smirked, leaning back in his chair as he watched the chaos in the gymnasium unfold. ¡°Oh, Fate,¡± he said, his voice a silky whisper. ¡°You¡¯re just as fun to play with as the children. But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll leave you to your tea¡ªfor now.¡±


    As Pandora¡¯s laughter echoed through the library, Eden turned away, her heart heavy with dread. Below, in the gymnasium, the barrier around Cynthia crackled with deadly energy, the children inside bracing themselves for the horrors to come.


    The teachers sprang into action the moment the barrier erupted around Cynthia, their instincts honed by years of experience. Mrs. Stone, Jonathan and Baal quickly ushered the remaining students out of harm¡¯s way, their voices firm but reassuring as they corralled the panicked onlookers toward safety. Meanwhile, Anastasia and Ivan stepped forward, preparing to breach the pulsating wall of death energy that encased the court. Wallace, standing back to assess the situation, furrowed his brow as he analyzed the barrier.


    ¡°This thing¡¯s pure death energy,¡± Wallace said, his tone sharp with urgency. ¡°Ivan, you¡¯ve got the second-highest compatibility with it. Do your best to break through. I¡¯ll go grab my brother.¡± Without waiting for a reply, he took off running, his footsteps echoing through the gym.


    Ivan moved to the barrier, his skeletal hand glowing faintly as he prepared to pierce its surface. The sharp, bony appendage hovered over the barrier for a moment before he pressed forward. But before he could act, a chill swept over the area, and Pandora materialized behind him, his eyes alight with cruel amusement.


    ¡°Please,¡± Pandora drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. ¡°Buzz off, feeble lich. Authority of Error: Error of Death.¡±


    In an instant, Ivan¡¯s skeletal form was enveloped in a wave of Pandora¡¯s power. Flesh and blood manifested across his bones, a sickening reversal that left him resembling his former self, before becoming a lich. The transformation was swift and agonizing, the sudden resurgence of nerve endings causing Ivan to stumble. His newly reformed hand made contact with the barrier, which retaliated with an eruption of searing energy. Ivan let out a choked cry of pain before Pandora seized his head and slammed it into the barrier with brutal force. The sickening impact reverberated through the gym as Pandora tossed Ivan aside like discarded trash, his unconscious body crumpling to the floor.


    One of their strongest was felled in seconds.


    Anastasia stood frozen, her instincts screaming at her. Her ability to glimpse into the immediate future painted a grim picture¡ªif she stepped forward, Pandora would kill her before she could react. Her breath hitched, but she tightened her grip on her suitcase, her mind racing.


    Pandora turned to her, his expression colder now, his voice a low, venomous hiss. ¡°What do you want, maid? I rather despise your kind. Your species disgusts me¡ªthe way your king treated my sister still angers me to this day. Betrayal aside, someone who toys with her emotions, someone who rules over a kingdom of parasites¡­ they all deserve to die.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, Pandora knelt down and hoisted Ivan¡¯s coffin with one hand, lifting it as though it weighed nothing. He turned back to Anastasia, his glare piercing. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking this. As much as I hate your race, I¡¯ll offer you a choice, surrender, and I¡¯ll let you live.¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, but she met Pandora¡¯s gaze with a resolve that belied the fear gnawing at her. ¡°I¡­ I am the Young Master¡¯s maid. I can¡¯t give up.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s lips curled into a cruel smirk as he disappeared from sight, reappearing in front her in the blink of an eye. His hand wrapped around her throat, his grip firm but not yet crushing. He lifted her off the ground effortlessly, his eyes boring into hers.


    ¡°That means you were close to that wretched king, right?¡± Pandora sneered, his voice heavy with disdain. ¡°Tell me, what did you think of his lies? The sweet nothings he whispered to my sister while he played her like a fool? Did you despise the way he fed her promises of love, all while planning to meet some worthless woman here in his world?¡±


    Anastasia gritted her teeth, her hand fumbling for the pistol hidden within her sleeve. ¡°I am his loyal servant,¡± she spat. ¡°And I won¡¯t let you besmirch his name.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    With a quick motion, she pulled the gun and fired, the bullet striking Pandora squarely in the eye. He staggered back, momentarily disoriented, as black ichor dripped from the wound. Wasting no time, Anastasia activated her ability, teleporting several feet away from him, her heart pounding in her chest.


    ¡°Since arriving in this world, I¡¯ve risen to the strength of a five-star demon,¡± Anastasia declared, her voice steady despite the thunderous pounding of her heart. Her grip on her weapon tightened, her resolve burning brighter than the fear threatening to consume her. ¡°Don¡¯t make the mistake of underestimating me. Even if it costs me my life, I won¡¯t back down from this fight.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s face twisted with fury, his eyes blazing. ¡°Did you know about the affair your king had with my dear sister?¡± he snarled. ¡°How he fed her lies of love while using her as a stepping stone to this wretched world? How he broke her heart to chase after some worthless whore?¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s grip tightened on her shotgun. ¡°I did,¡± she admitted, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. ¡°I knew the truth about Avaritia¡¯s birth mother. I met your sister many times as well.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s expression shifted, the fury replaced by something colder¡ªsomething calculating. ¡°Good,¡± he said softly, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to commit that memory. It¡¯ll make what comes next all the sweeter.¡±


    ¡°Though she despises me, Eden is still all I have left,¡± Pandora thundered, his voice reverberating with a fury that seemed to shake the very air around them. His eyes burned with unrestrained rage. ¡°Fate betrayed us when he killed our brother. I loathe that she still aligns herself with him, but what I despise even more is how your king betrayed her. For that alone, I¡¯ll see both humanity and demonkind wiped off the face of this cursed world¡ªwith Superbia as the only exception.¡± His voice escalated into a roar, seething with divine wrath.


    ¡°Superbia?¡± Anastasia¡¯s sharp voice cut through his tirade. ¡°I assumed he was dead¡ªkilled by the leader of A.E.G.I.S. Are you working with him?¡±


    Pandora¡¯s lips twisted into a venomous smirk. ¡°Dead in body, perhaps. But the seven sins cannot be killed in mind. Their hearts are eternal, indestructible, and no blade forged by mortals or demons can destroy them.¡±


    His words hung in the air for only a heartbeat before he lunged forward with terrifying speed.


    ¡°For the young master, I¡¯ll gladly battle a god,¡± Anastasia declared, her resolve unwavering as she teleported out of his path. Appearing behind him, she fired her pistol, aiming directly for his head.


    Reality flickered and distorted as if rejecting her defiance. The bullet wound vanished as though it had never been, undone by Pandora¡¯s Authority of Error. She was facing a being who could rewrite existence itself¡ªa god¡¯s clone, capable of warping all phenomena into meaningless glitches. Every effort seemed futile, but her young master was still fighting inside the barrier. She would not falter. She could not.


    Teleporting again, she appeared directly in front of Pandora, her shotgun pressed against his grinning mouth. With a deafening roar, she pulled the trigger, blasting his head apart in a spray of gore and divine ichor. She didn¡¯t wait for him to recover¡ªshe fired at his legs, her pistol spitting lead with precision as she tore through his knees, sending him collapsing to the ground.


    But Pandora¡¯s body refused to stay broken. Reality twisted, glitching unnaturally as his head and legs reformed instantly, as though her attacks had never landed.


    Anastasia didn¡¯t pause. She loaded another shell into her shotgun, this time infusing it with her ability. Her hands trembled slightly, but her aim was unwavering. She fired, and the enhanced round struck true, exploding with devastating force and tearing his body apart once more.


    Pandora¡¯s shattered form hung in the air for a moment before knitting itself back together. His smirk was infuriatingly intact, his voice dripping with mockery as he said, ¡°How entertaining. But you¡¯re only delaying the inevitable.¡±


    Anastasia clenched her jaw, the weight of the impossible battle pressing down on her. Despite the futility, she steadied herself. For the young master, I cannot afford to lose. She gripped her weapons tightly, ready to fight a being who could erase her existence with a mere thought.


    Anastasia wiped the sweat from her brow, her lavender hair sticking to her face as she glared at Pandora. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of staying alive against a god¡¯s clone. Her precognition had already flared several times, warning her of unavoidable death. She¡¯d narrowly escaped each time, teleporting or dodging at the last possible moment.


    Pandora¡¯s grin widened as he strode toward her, unbothered by the countless wounds she¡¯d inflicted¡ªwounds that reality itself undid with his Authority of Error. ¡°Impressive,¡± he mused, his voice carrying a sinister lilt. ¡°You¡¯re quite resourceful for a demon. But you must realize by now¡­ you¡¯re only postponing your demise.¡±


    Anastasia didn¡¯t respond. She vanished in a blur of movement, teleporting to his left. In the same instant, she fired a volley of rounds from her twin pistols. The bullets hit their mark, ripping through his side, but the damage was erased before his body even registered the hits.


    ¡°Predictable,¡± Pandora said, spinning toward her with a bored expression.


    Before he could finish, Anastasia flicked her wrist, causing every bullet embedded in the surrounding ground to detonate. The explosion rocked the battlefield, flames, and shrapnel consuming Pandora in a fiery maelstrom. Yet, when the smoke cleared, he stood there unharmed, his clothing and skin pristine.


    Reality bends and breaks to me,¡± he sneered. ¡°Your explosions are nothing more than fireworks.¡±


    Anastasia teleported again, this time appearing behind him. She threw her arm out, forming a glowing barrier between them as she switched to her shotgun. With a flick of her fingers, she loaded a specialized shell into the chamber¡ªone infused with her explosive ability. She fired point-blank, the shell burying itself in his back before detonating.


    Pandora stumbled forward slightly, the force of the explosion forcing him to pause. Yet, as always, the damage rewound itself, his body knitting back together with an almost mechanical precision. He turned to her, his eyes glowing with restrained fury.


    ¡°You¡¯re annoying, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± he said, his tone colder now. ¡°But this game is over.¡±


    He lunged at her, faster than she could react. Her precognition flared again¡ªthis time with a vivid image of her own body being torn apart. Acting on instinct, she activated her invisibility, vanishing just as his hand swiped through the air where her head had been.


    Pandora froze, his gaze scanning the area. ¡°Hiding? Cowardice won¡¯t save you.¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s voice came from above. ¡°Not hiding¡ªstrategizing.¡± She unleashed a hail of grenades from her belt, each glowing faintly with her power. They struck the ground around Pandora, bouncing and rolling before exploding in unison. The gym quaked under the force, the detonation creating a massive crater.


    Pandora stepped out of the smoke, unscathed but visibly annoyed. ¡°Enough of this,¡± he hissed, raising his hand. The air around Anastasia warped as glitches began to form, threatening to consume her entirely. Her precognition flared again¡ªa vision of herself being erased from existence.


    ¡°Not today,¡± she muttered, teleporting out of the glitch¡¯s reach. She reappeared behind a nearby pillar, quickly reloading her shotgun with more specialized shells. Sweat dripped down her face as she tried to catch her breath. She was pushing her abilities to their limit, and Pandora¡¯s relentless invulnerability wasn¡¯t giving her a chance to regroup.


    The air was heavy with the acrid smell of explosives, the gym¡¯s structure groaning from the reverberations of Anastasia¡¯s relentless assault. She lay on the ground, coughing as smoke filled her lungs. Across from her, Pandora stood tall, his smirk now replaced with an expression of amused irritation, his golden eyes glowing with a mixture of anger and curiosity.


    ¡°You¡¯re resourceful,¡± he admitted, his voice calm yet edged with menace. ¡°But resourcefulness won¡¯t save you. You can¡¯t win against me, little maid.¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s trembling hand gripped her shotgun tighter as she forced herself to stand. Her lavender hair clung to her damp face, her heart racing from exertion and pain. ¡°Winning was never the goal,¡± she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips.


    Before Pandora could respond, she lunged forward, vanishing into a flicker of teleportation. She reappeared behind him, firing a point-blank shot directly at his head. The explosion was deafening, the force sending debris flying. Yet, as always, his body rewound the damage, erasing the injury as though it had never occurred.


    Pandora moved faster than she anticipated, his hand snapping around her neck like a vice. He lifted her effortlessly, her boots dangling inches off the ground. ¡°Why are you smiling?¡± he asked, his voice carrying a genuine curiosity.


    Anastasia coughed, her voice strained but defiant. ¡°Your ability¡­ it lets you undo events by creating errors in time and reality. Is that correct?¡±


    Pandora tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of amusement returning to his face. ¡°Very astute. And what of it?¡±


    She gasped for breath, her hands clawing at his grip. ¡°How far back¡­ in time¡­ can you undo a phenomenon?¡±


    His grip tightened, his expression shifting to one of annoyance. ¡°What does it matter?¡±


    Her lips curled into a grin despite the pain. ¡°If a bomb was set to detonate¡­ let¡¯s say, ten years ago, but the timer was sped up to now¡­ could you disarm it?¡±


    For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Pandora¡¯s face. He stared at her glowing body, the faint light emanating from her skin growing brighter with each second. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± he said, his tone low and dangerous.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Anastasia whispered, her voice filled with resolve. ¡°I¡¯m just a maid. If it means protecting the young master, I¡¯ll gladly blow myself to pieces.¡±


    Her body erupted in a brilliant glow, a luminous aura of destructive energy building to its peak. She grabbed onto Pandora¡¯s arms, locking him in place. ¡°You aren''t the god I¡¯d choose to die within a lover''s suicide but, let¡¯s die together. Either let your clone be destroyed or risk creating a butterfly effect that spirals out of control. Your call.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s eyes narrowed as he grimaced. ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± he hissed. ¡°Authority of Error: Error of Time!¡±


    The glowing energy around Anastasia dissipated instantly. She found herself sprawled on the floor, her body aching but intact. She looked up, disoriented, as a steel beam had crashed between them, severing Pandora¡¯s arm. He stood over her, his wound already healing, a mocking smirk on his face.


    ¡°Good attempt,¡± Pandora said, his voice laced with mock appreciation. ¡°But I altered time and created an instability in the ceiling. The beam fell before you were close enough to detonate yourself. Clever, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Anastasia gritted her teeth and ignored his taunts, forcing herself to move. She grabbed her shotgun and fired again, only for Pandora to sidestep effortlessly. Before she could react, he appeared behind her, his hand striking the back of her neck with precision. Her vision blurred as her body collapsed to the floor, unconscious.


    Pandora stood over her limp form, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve found a second demon worthy of respect,¡± he mused aloud. ¡°To throw your life away so earnestly¡­ almost touching.¡±


    He turned his gaze toward the barrier where chaos raged inside. Maxwell, Iris, and Anya fought valiantly against the monstrosity Cynthia had become, their desperate struggle framed by the swirling mass of death energy.


    Pandora smirked, his golden eyes glinting with anticipation. ¡°Now that these two are out of the way, the Valentine brothers are next. Good luck, my dear Dead Face.¡± With a mocking bow, he vanished into a flicker of distorted reality, leaving only devastation in his wake.

 Chapter 62-Boss Battle

    Within the barrier, the air grew suffocating, heavy with the oppressive aura of death and decay that emanated from Cynthia. Iris, Maxwell, and Anya stood frozen, their gazes locked on what their once-teammate had become. The grotesque transformation had twisted Cynthia into a being of pure killing intent, her veins glowing sickly purple, her movements jerky and unnatural as the energy radiating from her corrupted form warped the ground beneath her.


    ¡°Cynthia!¡± Maxwell shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. He stepped forward, his wings flaring in defiance. ¡°No! Please, answer me! Tell me you¡¯re okay!¡± His words echoed in the suffocating silence.


    Anya leaned casually against a fallen beam, her arms crossed, though her smirk barely masked the fear in her trembling voice. ¡°Don¡¯t bother, Avaritia. She¡¯s gone. Either she decays into nothingness, or we put her down ourselves. Unless you¡¯re keen on dying with her.¡± Her words cut like a blade, their venom laced with mockery.


    Maxwell turned, his radiant eyes narrowing dangerously. ¡°What did you call me?¡±


    Anya¡¯s grin widened, her voice taking on a mocking singsong. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t remember me. It¡¯s me, the Toymaker. I came so close to finishing you off last time, didn¡¯t I? Should I try again? Maybe I¡¯ll actually¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, Iris¡¯s blade of searing flames was at her throat in an instant, the heat licking at her skin. ¡°Talk,¡± Iris commanded, her voice cold and sharp. ¡°Tell us what you know. Now.¡±


    Anya¡¯s eyes widened in panic, and her bravado crumbled under the intensity of Iris¡¯s glare. ¡°Like I¡¯d actually tell you losers any¡ª¡±


    Iris¡¯s free hand shot out, gripping Anya by the neck. Her fingers grew hotter, the skin beneath them reddening as steam rose. ¡°Start talking, or I¡¯ll incinerate you where you stand.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything!¡± Anya shrieked, tears welling in her eyes as she clawed at Iris¡¯s hand. ¡°I swear! I swear! I had no idea this would happen! I¡¯m just pretending to be confident because I¡¯m terrified! Do you get it? There¡¯s no way to beat Uncle Pandora¡¯s Dead Faces. None. We¡¯re all going to die!¡±


    Her voice broke on the last word, and Iris released her, letting her crumple to the ground. Anya gasped for air, clutching her throat as tears streamed down her cheeks, her earlier bravado replaced with raw fear.


    Maxwell¡¯s wings dimmed, the light in his eyes flickering as despair threatened to overwhelm him. ¡°We¡­ we can¡¯t fix her, can we?¡± he asked softly, his voice hollow.


    ¡°No,¡± Anya rasped, her voice trembling as she wiped at her tear-streaked face. ¡°Your best bet is to pray. Maybe get lucky and put her down before she tears us apart. But honestly¡­¡± She paused, swallowing hard. ¡°We¡¯re all going to die.¡±


    Iris¡¯s hands clenched into fists, her fiery aura sparking wildly. Her voice trembled, but her resolve remained unshaken. ¡°No. We¡¯re not dying here. Not to this. Not to their twisted games.¡±


    Anya let out a bitter laugh, sitting up and hugging her knees. ¡°Easy for you to say. You haven¡¯t seen what I¡¯ve seen. His Dead Faces¡­ they¡¯re unstoppable.¡±


    Anya¡¯s lip quivered as fresh tears spilled down her face. ¡°Why?¡± she whispered, her voice breaking. ¡°Why are you doing this? Uncle why?¡±


    Cynthia stood motionless within the barrier, her twisted form radiating death energy. Her head twitched slightly, her blackened veins pulsing as if she were caught in an internal struggle. It was as if a piece of her still resisted¡ªsome part deep inside refusing to give in completely to the monstrous transformation.


    ¡°If we can hold out until Markus gets here,¡± Iris said, her fiery sword blazing in her grip, ¡°we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Anya, still slumped on the ground, let out a bitter laugh. ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you? Uncle Pandora doesn¡¯t leave loose ends. If you¡¯re waiting for Markus, you might as well pray. He¡¯s probably eliminating the Reaper as we speak.¡±


    Inside Wallace¡¯s cluttered office, the atmosphere couldn¡¯t have been more contrasting to the chaos unfolding in the gym. Markus sat casually in a spinning chair, balancing between a binge of K-dramas on the monitor and a Pokemon Emerald Nuzlocke run on his Gameboy. Empty snack bags and soda cans littered the desk, and his feet rested lazily on a pile of unopened files.


    ¡°Critical hit?!¡± Markus groaned, glaring at the small screen. His starter fainted in a battle he¡¯d been sure he would win. ¡°Stupid RNG. I¡¯ll finish this run later.¡± With a huff, he tossed the Gameboy onto a nearby pile of papers and swiveled in his chair. ¡°Man, it¡¯s so boring in here. I wonder how Wallace is doing. Maybe I should¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enjoying the downtime, Reaper?¡± came an unfamiliar voice.


    Markus froze. His senses flared instantly, and in a flash, his Authority of Space activated. A section of the room warped, the space cutting like paper as he attempted to obliterate the intruder.


    The man standing behind him sidestepped the attack effortlessly, the distorted space dissolving harmlessly around him. Markus spun to face the intruder, his eyes narrowing. The man wore a smug grin, his golden eyes glinting with malicious amusement.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Markus demanded, his voice calm but edged with lethal intent.


    Pandora tilted his head slightly, an air of mock politeness radiating from him. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m a good friend of Nikolai¡¯s. I¡¯m here to eliminate you before you¡­ interrupt my plans.¡±


    ¡°What plans?¡± Markus asked, taking a step forward, his Authority humming around him.


    Pandora laughed, the sound smooth and maddeningly arrogant. ¡°Oh, my dear Reaper, do you think I¡¯d just tell you? Nice try, though. I almost spilled it¡ªalmost.¡± He wagged a finger at Markus as if chastising a child. ¡°But I¡¯m not bold enough to reveal my master plan to someone who very well may escape this encounter.¡±


    Markus smirked faintly. ¡°Worth a shot. If you¡¯re bold enough to come after me, though, I guess this means you¡¯ll be fun.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin widened as he picked up Markus¡¯s discarded Gameboy, holding it up with interest. With a flick of his fingers, the screen glitched, pixelated chaos spreading across it. ¡°Authority of Error: Error of Technology,¡± Pandora said nonchalantly. The virtual Pok¨¦mon Markus had painstakingly raised vanished one by one, their digital graves displayed as the screen froze on a distorted Game Over screen.


    ¡°Game over, Reaper,¡± Pandora mocked, tossing the Gameboy onto the desk.


    Markus¡¯s smirk vanished, his gaze sharpening as his Authority surged. ¡°Authority of Space: Spatial Erasure.¡±


    The air around Pandora warped violently, bending and distorting as Markus targeted the very space he occupied, intending to erase him from existence. The pressure in the room spiked, the distortion making reality itself tremble.


    Pandora didn¡¯t flinch. He raised a hand, his Authority activating with a sickening hum. ¡°Authority of Error: Error of Space.¡± A chaotic green aura surrounded him, consuming Markus¡¯s attack as if it were nothing more than static. Pandora waved lazily, sending the fractured space back toward Markus.


    The surrounding area cracked, the very fabric of the room splintering like fragile glass. Markus leaped back, his Authority working furiously to stabilize the collapse. But Pandora¡¯s attack outpaced him, enveloping Markus in a swirling void of distorted energy. The world around Markus dissolved into nothingness, leaving him suspended in a void without form, without space.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Markus muttered, his voice echoing in the void as he summoned his Authority to analyze the trap. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen worse.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s voice echoed through the void, dripping with smug satisfaction. ¡°Temporary as it may be, this will hold you long enough for me to finish my work. The strongest human, reduced to nothing more than a spectator in my game.¡±


    A flicker of doubt crossed Markus¡¯s face, but it was quickly replaced with a feral grin. ¡°If you think a little void¡¯s going to stop me, you¡¯re as dumb as you are cocky.¡±


    Pandora laughed, his voice fading as he disappeared from the office. ¡°Let¡¯s see how long you last, Reaper. You¡¯re not the first to underestimate me, but you might be the most amusing.¡±


    As Pandora¡¯s presence faded into nothingness, Markus remained in the void, his Authority of Space crackling like overcharged electricity around him. The emptiness pressed against him, oppressive and unnatural, yet he smirked faintly. ¡°A void without space, huh?¡± he murmured to himself, his tone eerily calm despite the chaos surrounding him.


    Wallace sprinted down the dimly lit hallway toward his office, his thoughts racing as fast as his feet. Bursting through the door, he skidded to a halt¡ªand froze. Standing in the middle of the room was a figure straight out of a nightmare.


    The man¡ªor perhaps something far beyond human¡ªwore a blank white mask, devoid of any features, emotionless yet infinitely unsettling. A crown of pale white roses adorned his head, their fragile petals contrasting sharply against his jet-black cloak, which seemed to ripple and twist like living shadows. Long white hair cascaded down his back, gleaming like frost in the dim light.


    Wallace¡¯s hand instinctively went to his weapon, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Nihil?¡±


    The figure tilted his head slightly, his voice calm and unnervingly soothing. ¡°You may call me Nihil. I¡¯ve come to assist you.¡±


    Wallace didn¡¯t lower his guard. ¡°Assist me? Why should I believe that?¡±


    ¡°Because your brother has been sealed away,¡± Nihil replied, his tone as even as if he were discussing the weather. ¡°And I suspect you lack the time to debate my motives.¡±


    Wallace¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°Sealed? Who the hell could even manage to seal him?¡±


    ¡°Yoo-hoo, over here!¡± called a mocking voice from the hallway, cutting through the tension like a knife. Wallace spun around to see Pandora leaning casually against the doorframe, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°That would be me, of course. Sealed him up nice and tight¡ªjust long enough to ruin your little day.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Want me to answer your question in detail?¡± Nihil asked, his tone as placid as ever.


    Wallace shook his head, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. ¡°No. I don¡¯t care how it happened. Let¡¯s go save my brother.¡±


    ¡°Wise choice,¡± Nihil replied, inclining his head. ¡°Though I would advise caution. Pandora is far more dangerous than he appears.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous? Oh, you flatter me, Nihil,¡± Pandora quipped, pushing off the doorframe with exaggerated flair. ¡°But come now, Wallace. Don¡¯t you want to hear my side of the story? It¡¯s a good one, I promise.¡±


    Wallace ignored him, his hand going to the blade strapped to his back. He glanced at Nihil, his expression tight. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you, but for now, I don¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    ¡°Trust is irrelevant,¡± Nihil replied. ¡°Action is all that matters.¡±


    Without another word, the two rushed toward Pandora, who stood grinning like a cat that had just cornered its prey.


    Meanwhile, back within the death-laden barrier, Cynthia¡¯s form convulsed, the purple glow of her veins intensifying. Her head snapped up, and for the first time, her twisted, glowing eyes locked onto the trio still standing against her.


    A sudden, inhuman shriek ripped from her throat as she raised her hands. Dark energy coalesced at her fingertips before erupting into a torrent of shadowy bullets. The projectiles screamed through the air, their speed and sheer number making them nearly impossible to dodge.


    ¡°Move!¡± Iris shouted, throwing up a wall of flame to intercept as many bullets as possible. Her fire hissed and crackled, consuming the shadows, but some still slipped through.


    Maxwell used his wings to shield himself, the radiant feathers deflecting most of the projectiles, though a few clipped him. Anya darted and rolled, her smaller frame making her harder to hit, but she wasn¡¯t unscathed. A bullet grazed her leg, leaving a streak of blackened flesh in its wake.


    Iris wasn¡¯t as lucky. One of the bullets struck her shoulder, punching through her flame barrier and embedding itself deep into her flesh. She screamed, her sword of flames flickering as her concentration wavered. The wound oozed dark, viscous blood, and her skin around the injury began to discolor, turning an ominous shade of purple that pulsed with necrotic energy.


    ¡°Iris!¡± Maxwell shouted, his wings flaring as he darted toward her.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Iris gasped through clenched teeth, though her pale complexion betrayed her words. ¡°Focus on Cynthia! We can¡¯t let up now.¡±


    Maxwell hesitated, torn between helping her and dealing with the immediate threat. Anya, clutching her wounded leg, glared at him. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, wings-for-brains! If you stop now, she¡¯ll kill us all!¡±


    Cynthia let out another blood-curdling shriek, her body pulsating with an aura of pure malevolence. The dark energy coiling around her surged outward, forming more shadowy bullets at her fingertips. This time, they didn¡¯t fire straight but spiraled wildly in unpredictable patterns, like living creatures seeking prey. When they struck the ground, they detonated with force, sending shockwaves that rattled the floor and threw the trio off balance.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just her fighting,¡± Iris muttered, her voice tight with pain as she struggled to steady herself. The corruption spreading from her wound sent searing jolts of agony through her body. Her flame-wreathed hand trembled but didn¡¯t falter. ¡°It¡¯s like something else is controlling her¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no kidding!¡± Anya snapped, ducking behind a pile of debris for cover. Her eyes darted frantically, seeking an opening. ¡°Thanks for stating the obvious, genius.¡±


    Maxwell stood firm, his fists tightening as golden swords of radiant energy materialized in his hands. His wings flared, illuminating the dim, death-laden barrier with a divine glow. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to save her,¡± he said, his voice resolute. ¡°I won¡¯t let them win.¡±


    Iris smirked weakly, reigniting her flames despite the corruption threatening to sap her strength. ¡°Big talk, golden boy,¡± she retorted, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯d better back it up.¡±


    Meanwhile, Anya let out an exasperated groan, her hands fumbling in her pockets. ¡°How did I get dragged into an assassination plot meant for you two?¡± she shouted, pulling out a ring and slipping it onto her finger. ¡°And why wasn¡¯t I warned ahead of time?¡±


    With a sharp click, a large chainsaw materialized in her hands. Its serrated teeth roared to life, glowing faintly with crimson energy. She hoisted it with ease, a dangerous glint in her eyes. ¡°Fine. If we¡¯re all dying, I¡¯m making it messy.¡±


    Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed through the barrier as a steel beam slammed against its surface. Again and again, the beam struck, causing cracks of light to ripple outward like spiderwebs. Outside, Charles stood with a determined expression, his telekinesis hammering relentlessly at the barrier.


    ¡°Iris!¡± Charles called, his voice ringing with urgency. ¡°I¡¯ve got you! I won¡¯t let anything happen to you!¡±


    Inside the barrier, Anya rolled her eyes. ¡°Knock it off, lover boy,¡± she muttered, deflecting a volley of bullets with her chainsaw. ¡°This isn¡¯t the kind of fight you want to crash.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but trust me,¡± Charles shot back, his telekinesis focusing on a single point of the barrier. His brow furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead as he forced a hole through. ¡°For Iris, I absolutely do.¡±


    With a final burst of telekinetic force, Charles tore a gap in the barrier and leaped through, landing beside Iris. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Anastasia¡¯s discarded suitcase of weapons and opened it, arming himself with precision.


    ¡°I swear,¡± Anya muttered, swinging her chainsaw to intercept another wave of bullets. ¡°The teachers keep calling us prodigies, but clearly, you¡¯re all just idiots.¡±


    Charles ignored her, his twin pistols already in hand as he nodded toward Iris. ¡°I¡¯m here for you,¡± he said earnestly, his gaze locking with hers. ¡°You can count on me.¡±


    Iris managed a grateful smile despite the pain twisting through her body. ¡°Thanks, Charles. It means a lot.¡±


    Maxwell glanced at the group, his eyes blazing with determination. ¡°Focus up,¡± he commanded. ¡°We need to restrain her at the very least. Anya and Iris, you handle close-range combat. Charles and I will stay at a distance and cover you.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Iris replied, her flames flaring brighter.


    ¡°Whatever you say, captain,¡± Anya added with a mocking smirk, revving her chainsaw for emphasis.


    ¡°I¡¯m with you,¡± Charles said, his pistols spinning deftly in his hands. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    The four stood united, a makeshift team forged in the chaos. Cynthia¡¯s glowing eyes bore into them, her body surging with dark energy. The battle ahead was certain to test every ounce of their strength, but together, they braced for the storm.


    The barrier crackled with dark energy as Cynthia unleashed another volley of death bullets. The air vibrated with the force of her attacks, the bullets whistling through the gym like a swarm of angry hornets. Iris raised her flaming sword, the heat radiating from it forming a shimmering shield. The bullets struck the wall of flames, hissing as they disintegrated into harmless embers.


    ¡°Keep it up, Iris!¡± Charles shouted, his telekinetic powers flaring. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected several bullets that veered too close, sending them spiraling back toward Cynthia. His aim was precise, targeting her joints to limit her movement. The bullets struck her knees and elbows, but the dark energy surrounding her absorbed the impact, leaving her unscathed.


    Anya charged forward with a wild grin, her chainsaw roaring to life. ¡°Let¡¯s see how you handle this!¡± she yelled, swinging the serrated blade in a wide arc. Cynthia conjured a black scythe in response, the weapon glowing with malevolent energy. Sparks flew as the chainsaw and scythe collided, the sheer force of the clash sending Anya skidding back a few feet.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± Anya taunted, recovering her footing and revving the chainsaw again. She lunged forward, her strikes becoming more aggressive, forcing Cynthia to parry and dodge.


    Meanwhile, Maxwell hovered above the battlefield, his angelic wings glowing with radiant light. His hypercognition kicked into overdrive, analyzing Cynthia¡¯s movements and identifying patterns in her attacks. ¡°Her aim is getting more erratic,¡± he called out, his voice calm but urgent. ¡°She¡¯s trying to force us into a mistake. Stay focused.¡±


    With a sharp flap of his wings, Maxwell dove down, aiming to distract Cynthia. He slashed at her with blades of golden light, the attacks slicing through the death energy around her. Cynthia twisted her body unnaturally, dodging the strikes with an almost inhuman fluidity. In retaliation, she conjured twin daggers and threw them at Maxwell, their edges crackling with lethal energy.


    Maxwell twisted mid-air, his wings folding in to dodge the projectiles. ¡°Charles, cover me!¡± he shouted.


    ¡°On it!¡± Charles responded, his hands glowing as he redirected the daggers with his telekinesis. The blades spun back toward Cynthia, who deflected them with her scythe.


    Iris, seizing the opening, rushed forward with her flaming sword raised high. She swung with all her might, the flames trailing behind the blade like a comet. Cynthia blocked the strike with her scythe, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the gym. Iris gritted her teeth, pouring more energy into her flames to push Cynthia back.


    ¡°You¡¯re not taking us down!¡± Iris yelled, her determination burning as brightly as her flames.


    Cynthia hissed in response, her glowing eyes narrowing. She raised her free hand, summoning a massive hammer made of death energy. She swung it downward, forcing Iris to leap back to avoid the crushing blow. The hammer struck the ground with a deafening crash, creating a shockwave that sent debris flying.


    Anya darted in from the side, her chainsaw roaring as she aimed for Cynthia¡¯s midsection. Cynthia twisted her body again, her movements unnervingly smooth, and retaliated with a swipe of her scythe. Anya barely managed to block the strike, sparks flying as the chainsaw¡¯s teeth clashed with the scythe¡¯s blade.


    ¡°Maxwell, now!¡± Anya shouted, gritting her teeth as she held her ground.


    Maxwell surged forward, his wings flaring as he slashed at Cynthia from above. The golden light of his blades cut through the dark energy surrounding her, forcing her to step back. Charles took advantage of her momentary distraction, using his telekinesis to hurl several gymnasium benches at her. Cynthia shattered them with a swing of her hammer, but the effort slowed her down.


    ¡°She¡¯s losing her momentum!¡± Charles yelled. ¡°We¡¯ve got her on the ropes!¡±


    For a brief moment, hope flickered among the group. But Cynthia, now cornered, let out a guttural scream. The dark energy around her expanded violently, pushing everyone back. She stood in the center of the battlefield, her weapons glowing brighter, her form radiating an overwhelming aura of death.


    In Fate¡¯s library, the air grew heavy as Pandora materialized behind his siblings. Eden¡¯s fiery gaze shot to him, her aura crackling with restrained anger.


    ¡°I thought you were too busy orchestrating chaos to pay us a visit,¡± Eden snapped, her voice sharp.


    Pandora chuckled, the sound low and menacing. ¡°Chaos runs itself once it¡¯s properly set in motion,¡± he said smoothly. He raised his hand, fingers glowing with his Authority. ¡°Authority of Error: Error of Self.¡±


    A ripple spread through the air, and a duplicate of Pandora stepped forward from his shadow. The two stood side by side, identical in every way, their golden eyes glinting with malevolence.


    ¡°Now,¡± they said in unison, their voices blending into a chilling harmony, ¡°let¡¯s begin phase two of this delightful little boss fight.¡±


    With a synchronized snap of their fingers, the gymnasium below shook violently.


    Within the barrier, Cynthia¡¯s body twisted and convulsed, her screams echoing like a chorus of the damned. Black wings erupted from her back, massive and jagged, dripping with corrosive death energy. Each falling feather burned and disintegrated whatever it touched, leaving scorched marks on the gym floor.


    Her transformation didn¡¯t stop there. A massive scythe materialized in one hand, its blade pulsating with an ominous glow. In her other hand, a shield formed, its surface swirling with an endless vortex of shadows that seemed to absorb all light around it. Her eyes burned brighter, her movements now eerily graceful, as if she had become death incarnate.


    Maxwell, Iris, Charles, and Anya froze, their breaths catching as they took in her new form.


    ¡°She¡¯s evolved,¡± Maxwell muttered, his hypercognition racing to process the sudden escalation. ¡°This isn¡¯t just raw power¡ªshe¡¯s become something else entirely.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s become a nightmare,¡± Anya whispered, gripping her chainsaw tighter. ¡°And we¡¯re trapped in it.¡±


    In the library, Pandora watched the scene unfold with glee, his grin widening. ¡°A good boss battle should always have phases, don¡¯t you think?¡± he said, addressing his siblings without looking at them. ¡°A simple fight to the finish is so... boring. My Dead Faces are masterpieces of despair, crafted to crush hope at every turn.¡±


    Eden¡¯s fists clenched, her aura flaring. ¡°You¡¯re playing with lives, Pandora. They¡¯re children, not pieces in your twisted game!¡±


    Pandora turned to her, his expression mockingly innocent. ¡°Oh, dear sister, don¡¯t act like you don¡¯t enjoy watching it unfold. Fate certainly does.¡±


    Fate sipped his tea, his expression unreadable. ¡°Your theatrics are tiresome, Pandora,¡± he said coolly. ¡°But I¡¯ll admit, you¡¯ve made things¡­ interesting.¡±


    ¡°Interesting?¡± Eden spat, her voice trembling with fury. ¡°This isn¡¯t a game, Fate. This is a massacre!¡±


    ¡°For what reason should I be afraid, dear sister?  I¡¯m still guaranteed to win,¡±  Fate said, as he sipped his tea with a malicious smile.

 Chapter 63-The White Rose Clad Regressor

    ¡°Perhaps, just perhaps, if the Reaper hadn¡¯t been contained, you might have a sliver of a chance,¡± Pandora said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as he leaned casually against the ethereal desk in Fate¡¯s library. ¡°But now? Now you¡¯re nothing but pieces waiting to be swept off the board.¡±


    Fate calmly placed his teacup down, the delicate sound of porcelain meeting wood cutting through Pandora¡¯s arrogance. His serene demeanor didn¡¯t falter as he regarded his brother with quiet disdain. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disappoint you, Pandora, but not once have I considered Markus as a viable piece in today¡¯s game.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s smirk wavered, a flicker of doubt crossing his crimson eyes. ¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± he said, his tone laced with incredulity. ¡°Markus Valentine¡ªthe Reaper, the strongest human on this entire damned planet¡ªisn¡¯t one of your so-called viable pieces? The man who could carve through armies with a flick of his wrist? You¡¯re telling me he¡¯s not the one you¡¯re counting on?¡±


    Fate¡¯s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, a subtle, knowing gesture that seemed to infuriate Pandora further. ¡°Indeed,¡± Fate replied, his voice as smooth as the still surface of a pond. ¡°While Markus possesses a power that is¡­ remarkable, however, he is burdened by too many leashes. His strength has been crippled by the seals A.E.G.I.S¡¯s leader placed upon him. He is formidable, yes, but he is nowhere near as valuable as Nihil.¡±


    Pandora straightened, his smirk returning but tinged with irritation. ¡°Nihil?¡± he repeated, scoffing. ¡°You¡¯re putting your faith in him? That enigmatic weirdo with the blank mask and roses on his head? I¡¯ve seen his work¡ªimpressive, sure, but hardly world-shattering. And you dare to claim he surpasses Markus?¡±


    Fate¡¯s eyes gleamed with quiet confidence as he refilled his teacup, the scent of jasmine wafting gently through the air. ¡°You misunderstand, dear brother,¡± he said, lifting the teacup to his lips. ¡°It is not a question of surpassing Markus. Nihil exists in a realm entirely separate from such comparisons. His purpose transcends power alone, something your narrow perspective cannot grasp.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s confidence wavered for a fraction of a second before he laughed, a sharp, cutting sound that echoed in the stillness of the library. ¡°You¡¯re bluffing. You have to be. Markus is the Reaper. No human matches his affinity with death, and you¡¯re telling me he¡¯s been relegated to a mere side piece in your game? I specialize in death, he could easily ruin my plans!¡±


    Fate set his teacup down with deliberate care, the small motion carrying an air of finality. ¡°Markus was never intended to be the decisive factor in this match. Watch closely, brother. Watch as Nihil¡ªsomeone you¡¯ve foolishly underestimated¡ªdestroys your ¡®unkillable¡¯ clone. And perhaps then, you¡¯ll understand why fear should reside in your heart.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s crimson eyes darkened slightly, his smirk faltering as Fate¡¯s words struck deeper than he cared to admit. His fingers drummed against the desk as he considered the implications, but before he could respond, the scene shifted.


    Outside Wallace¡¯s office, the air was thick with an almost suffocating tension, the hallway crackling with the unseen static of two immense powers locked in an unspoken standoff. The walls, once plain and utilitarian, seemed to bow under the pressure, faint fissures spidering out across the plaster as if the very space around them was struggling to hold itself together.


    Wallace stood at the threshold, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his gun. His shoulders were squared, his posture brimming with determination despite the towering aura emanating from Pandora¡¯s clone. The clone leaned lazily against the door frame, his crimson eyes alight with smug amusement, his stance one of effortless superiority. It was a predator¡¯s posture¡ªa man perfectly at ease in the knowledge that he held the upper hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re in my way,¡± Wallace growled, his voice sharp and steady.


    Pandora¡¯s clone smirked, his lips curling with mockery. ¡°Oh, Wallace. Do you really think you can stop me? How quaint.¡±


    From behind Wallace, Nihil stepped forward, his movements so fluid and silent that he seemed more shadow than man. His black cloak rippled unnaturally, the pale white roses adorning it seeming to glow faintly in the dim light. The crown of roses atop his head was almost regal, though it clashed starkly with the blank, expressionless mask that hid his face. His long white hair cascaded down his back.


    ¡°Wallace,¡± Nihil said, his voice soft yet cutting, carrying an authority that demanded obedience. ¡°Step aside. Your death would serve no purpose here.¡±


    Wallace stiffened, his grip on his weapon tightening. ¡°Sure, if you show me what¡¯s under that mask,¡± he countered, his tone sharp with defiance.


    There was a pause¡ªa fleeting moment of stillness as Nihil tilted his head ever so slightly. Then, without warning, his hand shot out, striking Wallace¡¯s jaw with a speed and precision that left no room for reaction. Wallace crumpled to the ground, unconscious, before he even hit the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± Nihil murmured, his tone devoid of malice as he bent down to lift Wallace¡¯s limp body. He carried him as if he weighed nothing, placing him gently to the side, and propping him up against the wall.


    The clone¡¯s laughter echoed through the hallway, sharp and mocking. ¡°You knocked out your healer? Really? Are you sure that was a smart move?¡± he taunted, his crimson eyes narrowing in amusement.


    Nihil didn¡¯t reply immediately. Instead, he raised his left hand to his chest, his movements deliberate and unnervingly calm. Without hesitation, he plunged his hand into his own ribcage. The sickening sound of tearing flesh and splintering bone reverberated through the hallway as he pulled his own heart free. It was pale and translucent, pulsating faintly with an eerie white glow.


    As the clone watched, stunned but intrigued, Nihil clenched his hand into a fist, crushing the heart into a fine, shimmering powder. The fragments dissolved into the air like ashes caught in a breeze. The gaping wound in Nihil¡¯s chest knitted itself back together in an instant, the pale roses on his cloak blooming brighter as though feeding on his sacrifice.


    ¡°I have no need for a healer,¡± Nihil said coldly, his voice carrying an unsettling finality as he turned to face Pandora¡¯s clone once more.


    The clone¡¯s smirk faltered briefly before returning, his arrogance masking a flicker of unease. ¡°Cute trick,¡± he sneered, his tone laced with venom. ¡°Let¡¯s see if it keeps you alive.¡±


    In the blink of an eye, the clone teleported, reappearing directly in front of Nihil. The surrounding air warped, reality glitching and stretching unnaturally. Space itself seemed to rebel against Nihil¡¯s presence, twisting into jagged fractures that converged on his body with violent force.


    Nihil¡¯s form was torn apart. His body was shredded into bloody chunks, fragments of bone and cloth scattering across the hallway. The pale roses wilted, their petals falling in slow, somber cascades to the floor. Blood painted the walls in grotesque streaks, the remnants of his form lying in a lifeless heap at the clone¡¯s feet.


    Pandora¡¯s clone let out a sharp laugh, his eyes gleaming with triumph. ¡°Well,¡± he drawled, kicking a stray piece of Nihil¡¯s cloak aside. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so difficult, was it?¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it?¡± came a whisper, soft and chilling, directly into the clone¡¯s ear.


    The clone froze, his eyes widening as his smile evaporated. Slowly, he turned his head to find Nihil standing behind him, whole and unscathed. The bloodied remains on the floor dissolved into ash, scattering into the air like a mirage. Nihil¡¯s mask remained as blank and unreadable as ever, his presence radiating an unshakable calm.


    ¡°I survived,¡± Nihil murmured, his voice barely audible but dripping with menace.


    For the first time, a flicker of doubt passed through Pandora¡¯s clone. His crimson eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he stepped back. ¡°What¡­ what are you?¡± he hissed.


    Nihil didn¡¯t answer. Instead, his hand raised, and the surrounding air grew heavy, the suffocating weight pressing down like an invisible storm. The hallway trembled, the walls creaking as though they were on the verge of collapse. The pale roses on his cloak began to bloom anew, their soft glow intensifying as Nihil prepared to strike.


    ¡°Shall we find out?¡± Nihil whispered, his calm tone dripping with menace, each word carrying the weight of inevitability.


    Pandora¡¯s crimson eyes narrowed, his composure cracking ever so slightly. ¡°Just answer my damn question, you freak,¡± he demanded, his voice taut with barely restrained frustration.


    Nihil tilted his head slightly, his mask catching the faint light, making it seem as though the blank surface was staring straight into Pandora¡¯s soul. ¡°Is the God of Death and Disorder afraid?¡± Nihil asked, his tone light but cutting. ¡°After having found someone even you can¡¯t kill? How¡­ adorable.¡±


    Pandora scoffed, though his jaw tightened. ¡°Afraid? Hardly. But I won¡¯t deny I¡¯m curious. What are you?¡±


    Nihil chuckled softly, the sound cold and distant, like the faint echo of a tomb closing. ¡°I¡¯m what you might call a regressor,¡± he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°A regressor?¡± Pandora arched a brow, his lips curling into a skeptical sneer. ¡°You mean like one of those garbage webcomic plots?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Nihil replied simply, his tone maddeningly calm.


    Pandora barked a short, humorless laugh. ¡°How quaint. So, tell me, oh wise regressor, what do you claim to know?¡±


    Nihil stepped closer, the faint glow of his pale roses casting an eerie light in the narrow corridor. ¡°For example,¡± he began, his voice low and deliberate, ¡°I know that after Nikolai succeeds in his plan, you intend to betray him. You¡¯ll kill him, steal his power, and crown yourself as this world¡¯s one true god.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s eyes widened slightly, his grin faltering. ¡°Interesting. Does that mean, in the future, I won?¡± he asked, his tone feigning nonchalance but betraying a glimmer of eagerness.


    ¡°In that future, yes,¡± Nihil replied smoothly.


    ¡°That future?¡± Pandora pressed, his curiosity sharpening. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    Nihil¡¯s chuckle returned, soft and unnerving. ¡°In another future, your associate Superbia was the victor. However, like the arrogant fool he is, he chose to repeat the game. He wanted to win again.¡± Nihil gestured vaguely, as if discussing a trivial matter. ¡°This timeline, however, is different. This is the third timeline. And in this one, humanity will survive.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin returned, but it was forced, brittle. ¡°How unfair,¡± he muttered. ¡°No wonder, my dear brother regarded you as his greatest piece for a reason. Tell me, Nihil, just how much do you know?¡±


    ¡°I know about the traitor you¡¯ve placed within A.E.G.I.S¡¯s Clockwork Council,¡± Nihil said, his voice devoid of judgment. ¡°But don¡¯t worry¡ªI won¡¯t reveal their identity.¡±


    Pandora blinked, his confidence faltering. ¡°W-why? What are you planning?¡± he demanded, his usual composure slipping into something raw and uncertain.


    ¡°Some things,¡± Nihil said, his voice turning cryptic, ¡°must go as intended. I will allow you to continue your planned attacks. Both the one in March¡­ and on June 20th.¡±


    The calm certainty in Nihil¡¯s tone sent a chill through Pandora, though he masked it with a smirk. ¡°Tell me,¡± Pandora said, his voice quieter now, his tone shifting to something almost contemplative. ¡°Do you have a sibling? A brother, perhaps? Or someone else you hold dear?¡±


    Nihil tilted his head slightly, the roses on his crown seeming to glow brighter. ¡°I do,¡± he said, his voice softening, though it remained impenetrable. ¡°And I also know why you¡¯re doing this, Pandora. It¡¯s for your sibling, isn¡¯t it? Everything you¡¯ve done¡­ all of this chaos¡­ is to avenge them.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s eyes narrowed, his mocking demeanor replaced with something raw and unspoken. ¡°Would you do the same?¡± he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. ¡°Would you tear the world apart for them?¡±


    Nihil¡¯s reply was immediate, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°I already have.¡±


    For a moment, the hallway was silent, the weight of Nihil¡¯s words hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to break.


    Nihil¡¯s mask turned slightly, his gaze locking onto Pandora. ¡°Now,¡± he said, his voice steady but brimming with resolve. ¡°To protect them, I must eliminate you.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin returned, sharper now, as if it had been forged from his fleeting doubt. He straightened, his crimson eyes blazing. ¡°En garde,¡± Nihil finished, his words carrying the finality of a death sentence.


    The hallway crackled with raw power as Nihil¡¯s halberd materialized in his hands, its shaft adorned with blooming white roses that seemed to pulse with life. Each step he took left a faint trail of petals behind, the air around him shimmering with an aura of inevitability. Without hesitation, he lunged at Pandora, the blade of his weapon slicing through the air with a haunting whistle.


    Pandora¡¯s smirk widened as he raised his hand, the space between them glitching violently. ¡°Authority of Error: Error of Space,¡± he intoned, the air fracturing as reality twisted and bent in defiance of Nihil¡¯s charge.


    But Nihil¡¯s calm was unshaken. His halberd struck true, cleaving through the chaotic distortions as though they were nothing more than mist. The blade connected with Pandora¡¯s chest, splitting him in two with a spray of golden ichor. Pandora¡¯s body collapsed, his smirk fading into a grimace of shock.


    Yet, before Nihil could take a step back, Pandora¡¯s body glitched unnaturally, the jagged edges of his split form melding together. In an instant, he was whole again, standing tall as though nothing had happened.


    ¡°My turn,¡± Pandora said, his crimson eyes blazing with malice. He snapped his fingers, and Nihil¡¯s body froze mid-motion, glitching violently as tendrils of broken reality wrapped around him. With a sickening crack, Nihil¡¯s limbs were torn apart, his body reduced to a pile of shredded flesh and white roses.


    Pandora stepped over the remains, dusting off his coat. ¡°Unkillable, you said? You¡¯re nothing but a¡ª¡±


    The words caught in his throat as the air behind him shimmered, and Nihil reappeared, fully intact. His mask tilted slightly as he whispered, ¡°Surprised?¡±


    Pandora spun around, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second. ¡°Not really,¡± he said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. ¡°Just impressed you¡¯re as stubborn as I am.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, Pandora surged forward, his hands crackling with distorted energy. He slammed his fist into Nihil¡¯s chest, the impact sending him crashing into the far wall. The force shattered the stone, but as the dust settled, Nihil¡¯s body pieced itself back together seamlessly.


    Nihil stood, brushing off his cloak as if nothing had happened. ¡°Persistence,¡± he said simply, raising his halberd again.


    The two clashed once more, their powers colliding in a storm of roses and chaos. Nihil¡¯s halberd swept in wide, elegant arcs, each strike aimed with surgical precision. Pandora countered with bursts of his Authority, the surrounding air glitching and twisting as he redirected and absorbed Nihil¡¯s blows.


    For every wound inflicted, there was no reprieve¡ªboth combatants healed instantly, their abilities undoing the damage as quickly as it was dealt. Nihil¡¯s halberd severed Pandora¡¯s arm, but it reattached in a cascade of golden light. Pandora¡¯s counterstrike tore Nihil¡¯s torso in half, only for it to reassemble as if the injury had never occurred.


    ¡°Do you tire, Nihil?¡± Pandora taunted, sidestepping a particularly vicious swing of the halberd. ¡°We could do this forever, you and I.¡±


    ¡°Forever is a small price to pay,¡± Nihil replied, his voice unwavering. ¡°To ensure you don¡¯t harm the ones I care about.¡±


    The fight escalated, their movements becoming faster, more frenzied. Nihil¡¯s halberd danced with deadly grace, its blade glinting with an otherworldly light. Pandora¡¯s Authority of Error twisted the battlefield, creating glitches and anomalies that Nihil navigated with an eerie calm.


    Finally, as the hallway lay in ruins around them, Nihil stepped back, his mask tilting slightly as he regarded Pandora. His voice softened, almost regretful. ¡°It¡¯s time to end this.¡±


    Pandora raised a brow, his grin returning. ¡°And how do you plan to do that, exactly?¡±


    In response, Nihil planted his halberd into the ground. From its shaft, the white roses began to bloom in rapid succession, their vines snaking outward with an unnatural speed. Pandora¡¯s smirk faltered as the vines wrapped around his ankles, tightening with unyielding force.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Pandora snarled, his Authority surging as he tried to disrupt the vines. But they didn¡¯t glitch¡ªthey held firm, their glow intensifying with each passing second.


    Nihil stepped forward, his calm demeanor unbroken. ¡°These roses,¡± he said, his voice low and steady, ¡°are made of the memories of each of your sins. Each petal carries the weight of those you¡¯ve harmed, and their will binds you.¡±


    Pandora thrashed, his Authority lashing out in violent bursts, but the roses only tightened their grip, climbing higher until they encased his entire body. ¡°You think this will stop me?¡± he growled, his voice muffled as the vines constricted around his torso. ¡°I¡¯ll tear these apart like I tear apart everything else!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve underestimated the resilience of those you¡¯ve wronged,¡± Nihil replied. ¡°This isn¡¯t about strength. It¡¯s about consequence.¡±


    With a final surge, the roses bloomed fully, their petals glowing with a blinding white light. Pandora let out a guttural scream as his body collapsed, his energy fading as the roses held him in place.


    Nihil stood over him, silent for a moment before kneeling and placing a hand on Pandora¡¯s head. ¡°Rest,¡± he said softly, his voice almost kind. ¡°You¡¯ve caused enough suffering.¡±


    The hallway fell silent, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air as Nihil straightened and turned toward the unconscious Wallace. The battle was over, but the weight of its implications hung heavy in the ruins left behind.


    The air in the office was heavy with the aftermath of the battle, faintly tinged with the scent of roses. Nihil stepped over the debris with practiced calm, his movements precise and deliberate. He approached the void encasing Markus, its surface rippling with the chaotic energy of Pandora¡¯s Authority. Without hesitation, he extended his hands, and the white roses adorning his halberd began to bloom once more, their vines reaching out to wrap around the void.


    The energy hissed and crackled as the roses tightened their grip, glowing with a soft yet unrelenting light. Each petal seemed to pulsate with life, pushing back against the void¡¯s darkness. With a sudden, violent crack, the void shattered, disintegrating into nothingness. Markus tumbled to the ground, landing on his hands and knees, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.


    ¡°T-thanks,¡± Markus muttered, struggling to his feet. His gaze flicked to Nihil, confusion etched across his face. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Noir has attacked,¡± Nihil said simply, his voice as calm as ever. ¡°However, I need you to remain here. Don¡¯t worry¡ªI promise there will be no casualties.¡±


    Markus¡¯s brows furrowed, his instincts screaming distrust. ¡°And how exactly can I trust you?¡± he asked, his tone sharp despite his exhaustion.


    Nihil didn¡¯t hesitate. Slowly, he reached up and removed his mask. The sight made Markus stagger, his eyes widening as he took in the familiar yet altered face before him. The long white hair, the crimson eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light¡ªit was unmistakable.


    ¡°You¡­ it¡¯s impossible,¡± Markus stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°How is this¡ªhow are you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Do you believe me now?¡± Nihil asked, his tone unchanged as he returned the mask to its place.


    Markus swallowed hard, his mind racing. ¡°O-of course,¡± he said, still reeling from the revelation. ¡°I just¡­ I don¡¯t understand. How is this possible?¡±


    Nihil inclined his head slightly, as though acknowledging the question but choosing not to answer. ¡°I will need your help in the future,¡± he said, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible weight of urgency. ¡°When the time comes, I hope I can rely on you.¡±


    Markus¡¯s fists clenched, the weight of the moment grounding him. He met Nihil¡¯s gaze, determination flickering in his eyes. ¡°You can count on me.¡±


    Satisfied, Nihil turned away, his attention shifting to Wallace¡¯s unconscious form slumped against the wall. With careful movements, he lifted Wallace and placed him in a chair, adjusting his posture so he would be comfortable when he awoke.


    ¡°Watch over your brother,¡± Nihil said softly, his voice almost carrying a hint of warmth. ¡°I have more work to do.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, Nihil strode toward the exit, his figure disappearing into the shadows as the faint scent of roses lingered in his wake. The room fell silent, leaving Markus to process the gravity of what had just transpired.


    Markus exhaled deeply, his eyes drifting to Wallace. ¡°What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?¡± he murmured, his grip tightening as he prepared for what was to come.

 Chapter 64-My Dearest Iris

    Fate leaned back in his chair, his tea steaming gently in his hand as his sharp gaze settled on Pandora. The faint clinking of porcelain as he adjusted his grip was the only sound in the library, save for the soft hum of power that seemed to emanate from the very air. ¡°Tell me, Pandora,¡± he began, his tone measured but laced with quiet authority, ¡°why are you so confident you can win this little game of ours?¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin widened, his crimson eyes glinting with an almost feral light. His posture, casually draped across his chair, exuded an air of untouchable arrogance. ¡°Oh, Fate,¡± he purred, his voice dripping with mockery, ¡°do you really need me to spell it out? You, the manifestation of knowledge itself, can¡¯t comprehend something so blindingly obvious? How tragically ironic. Anyone with even a fragment of insight could see I¡¯m guaranteed to win.¡±


    Fate raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but sharpened by an undercurrent of disdain. Slowly, deliberately, he sipped his tea, letting the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle his brother. ¡°Confident words for someone on the verge of their third failed attempt to kill Iris,¡± he remarked, his voice cool but cutting. ¡°Tell me, Pandora, does failure taste any sweeter the third time around?¡±


    The smugness in Pandora¡¯s grin faltered for the briefest of moments, a crack so subtle it would have gone unnoticed by anyone but Fate. He recovered quickly, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand as if bored. ¡°And why are you so confident, dear brother?¡± he countered, his tone laced with faux curiosity. ¡°Even if this attempt fails, it matters not. I have countless plans, each more ingenious than the last. Iris is living on borrowed time, and we both know it. You have no idea where our base is, no means of disrupting my operations. I can strike whenever and wherever I please.¡±


    A new voice broke the tense exchange, calm but resolute. ¡°You¡¯re in Romania,¡± Eden said, her words landing like a thunderclap.


    Pandora froze, his grin vanishing as his gaze snapped to her. His crimson eyes widened, the confidence he wore like a cloak slipping from his shoulders. ¡°W-what?¡± he stammered, the first true crack in his composure. ¡°How the hell did you figure that out?¡±


    Eden¡¯s gaze was steady, her voice devoid of the anger that often colored her exchanges with her brothers. ¡°Did you really believe that just because I haven¡¯t sold your location to A.E.G.I.S, I didn¡¯t know where you were hiding?¡± she asked, her tone sharp. ¡°You¡¯ve always underestimated me, Pandora.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s fingers drummed nervously against the armrest of his chair, the rhythmic tapping betraying his agitation. He let out a forced chuckle, attempting to regain his composure. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, waving a hand as if brushing away an insignificant detail. ¡°You¡¯ve caught me off guard. But tell me, oh brilliant siblings, what makes you so confident this changes anything?¡±


    Fate placed his teacup back onto its saucer with deliberate care, the gentle clink of porcelain on wood resounding like a declaration in the tense silence. His sharp gaze turned toward Eden, and for a moment, the cold calculation that defined him softened. The weight of countless unspoken words seemed to pass between them as his golden eyes glinted with something akin to regret.


    ¡°It is time,¡± Fate said, his voice calm yet filled with an unshakable finality. ¡°We¡¯ve indulged this farce long enough.¡±


    Eden¡¯s fiery aura flared faintly, the embers licking at the edges of her crimson hair as her hand tightened around the haft of her axe. Despite her fiery nature, her expression was one of restrained apprehension. ¡°I agree, brother,¡± she said, her voice steady. ¡°But care to tell me your plan before we move forward?¡±


    Fate¡¯s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, an expression that conveyed both determination and an undercurrent of sorrow. He leaned forward, his fingers steepled as if contemplating a grand design. His golden eyes burned with quiet resolve, yet the storm within them betrayed his emotions.


    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± he said, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of an unspoken storm, ¡°to rank up my pawns.¡±


    Pandora, lounging in the shadows like a predator biding its time, tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. ¡°Pawns, you say? How delightfully cryptic,¡± he sneered. ¡°But what are you really playing at, brother?¡±


    Fate ignored the taunt, lifting his tea for a final, measured sip. The tension in the room grew so thick it felt as though the air itself would crack under the weight of his resolve. As he set the teacup back down, he uttered the single word that shifted the balance of their war.


    ¡°Check.¡±


    Fate rose to his feet, his movements imbued with a solemn grace that silenced even Pandora¡¯s mocking grin. Each step was deliberate, the echo reverberating with an unspoken finality. The ever-calm veneer Fate maintained seemed to waver for the first time, a tempest of emotions flickering behind his golden gaze.


    He extended his hand toward Eden. ¡°Forgive me, Sister,¡± he murmured, his tone heavy with regret.


    Before Eden could react, his hand pierced through her head with a swift, surgical precision. Her body froze as a sharp gasp escaped her lips¡ªnot of pain, but of loss so profound it stole the breath from her lungs. From within her, Fate withdrew a translucent, writhing white snake. The creature coiled around his hand, its ethereal glow pulsating faintly, embodying the most cherished and vulnerable parts of Eden''s memories.


    Eden¡¯s head reformed instantly, but her eyes now flickered with a strange emptiness, as if a vital part of her soul had been torn away. She staggered back, her trembling hands rising instinctively to her temple. ¡°No¡­¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible as tears began to stream down her face. ¡°Please¡­ brother, don¡¯t¡­ please.¡±


    Her fiery aura dimmed, the defiance that had always defined her replaced with a heart-wrenching vulnerability. Fate looked down at the fragile serpent in his grasp, his expression unreadable save for the profound sorrow glistening in his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Eden,¡± he said softly, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. ¡°But I must change the future. The future where Iris and Maxwell die today must never come to pass. This¡­ this is my trump card.¡±


    Pandora, who had been watching with uncharacteristic silence, surged to his feet. His crimson eyes blazed with fury, his usual smugness replaced by a rare glimpse of genuine emotion. ¡°Fate, stop!¡± he demanded, his voice reverberating with an intensity that startled even himself. ¡°This is too much, even for you! I don¡¯t give a damn about you, but to do this to Eden¡ª¡± His voice broke, a mix of anger and disbelief spilling forth. ¡°You dare rob her of this?¡±


    Fate turned toward Pandora, his golden eyes locking onto his brother¡¯s furious crimson gaze. He remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of Pandora¡¯s words settle. Then, with an unshakable resolve, he clutched the snake tighter.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about what I dare or what I deserve,¡± Fate said quietly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°This is about what must be done. Sacrifice is the price of survival, and I will pay it¡ªwhether you understand or not.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s fists clenched, his body trembling with suppressed rage. ¡°You arrogant bastard,¡± he spat. ¡°You¡¯ll regret this.¡±


    Eden collapsed to her knees, her fiery hair dimming to a soft, ember-like glow that barely lit the cold expanse of the room. Her sobs echoed in the heavy silence, raw and unrestrained, as though her very soul was fracturing. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperate to grasp at the intangible memories slipping away like sand through her fingers.


    ¡°Aether¡­¡± she whispered, the name carrying all the weight of love, regret, and finality. It was the name of the man she now realized she would soon forget¡ªa name that would become a hollow echo in the chambers of her mind.


    Pandora stood frozen for a moment, his crimson eyes wide, his usual smirk wiped clean from his face. Then, with a surge of emotion that bordered on fury, he lunged at Fate, grabbing his brother by the collar. His grip was tight, trembling, as if he were trying to shake reason into the unflinching man before him.


    ¡°I know that man was trash,¡± Pandora snarled, his voice low and venomous. ¡°But forcing Eden to relinquish her own memories? That¡¯s too much¡ªeven for you, you bastard.¡±


    Fate didn¡¯t resist. His calm gaze met Pandora¡¯s fiery one, his golden eyes steady but carrying a sorrow that seemed to pierce through Pandora¡¯s anger. He spoke evenly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the thick air between them. ¡°You forced this to happen, Pandora. You dragged her into this game. And now you¡¯re mad because I¡¯m playing it. Remember, you set the rules. A battle royale¡ªthree siblings, pitted against one another with our chosen champions. In the end, you caused this.¡±


    With a firm shove, Fate pushed Pandora away, breaking his grip. Pandora stumbled back, his rage boiling over. ¡°What about you?¡± he shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re forcing Eden to bear all the cost! Are you so cruel that you¡¯ll stand by and let her pay this price alone?¡±


    Fate¡¯s expression softened, and for the first time, there was a crack in his usually impenetrable calm. ¡°Of course not,¡± he said quietly, the gentleness in his tone striking harder than any shout. His golden eyes flickered with a mix of grief and resolve. ¡°There¡¯s a limit to my cruelty, Pandora.¡±


    He straightened, his gaze drifting briefly to Eden, who remained on the ground, her tears falling silently. Then he turned back to Pandora, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°And as for me¡­¡± He paused, the words catching in his throat as he inhaled shakily. ¡°I will relinquish all my memories of Sarah.¡±


    The room fell silent. Even Pandora¡¯s anger seemed to falter in the face of those words.


    Fate continued, his voice trembling but unwavering. ¡°Every smile, every laugh, every moment of love and warmth we shared¡­ gone. And beyond that, I will forget everything about Iris.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s crimson eyes widened in shock. ¡°You¡¯re insane¡±


    Fate pressed on, his golden eyes shimmering with tears that he refused to let stop him. ¡°Other than the knowledge that she is my daughter, I will remember nothing. Not her first words. Not her smile. Not the nights I held her when she cried, promising her that I would always protect her.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    His voice broke, the weight of his confession crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed freely down his face, unchecked, as his carefully constructed facade crumbled. ¡°But to keep her safe¡­ to ensure she lives¡­ such a sacrifice is worth it.¡±


    Pandora stood stunned, his words caught in his throat. The mocking, the fury¡ªit all seemed meaningless in the face of Fate¡¯s raw anguish. He opened his mouth to speak but found that no words came.


    The air in the library grew heavy as Pandora¡¯s crimson eyes burned with defiance. He took a step forward, his usual smugness replaced by a fierce determination that set the room alight with tension. ¡°I won¡¯t let you do this,¡± he declared, his voice reverberating like thunder. ¡°I won¡¯t let you destroy Eden''s hope, nor will I let you succeed in saving them.¡±


    Fate, seated at his ornate desk, didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, he calmly set down his teacup, his golden eyes locking onto Pandora with an almost disarming serenity. ¡°And how, dear brother,¡± Fate began, his voice laced with quiet confidence, ¡°do you intend to stop me here? You may wield the powers of Death and Error, but this is my domain.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s lips curled into a sharp smile, his Authority of Error flaring to life as the surrounding air began to distort. Reality cracked and fragmented, the library¡¯s pristine shelves glitching and shuddering as Pandora¡¯s influence crept outward like a virus. ¡°Your domain?¡± Pandora mocked, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°Let¡¯s see how much control you really have when reality itself starts to crumble.¡±


    Fate rose slowly, his movements deliberate as the library responded to his will. The cracks in reality sealed themselves, and the bookshelves stretched higher, their spines glowing faintly with an ethereal light. ¡°You¡¯re not the first to underestimate my domain,¡± Fate said, his tone almost pitying. He extended his hand, and from the floor, a massive knight of golden light emerged, its sword gleaming with radiant energy.


    Pandora didn¡¯t wait. With a flick of his wrist, the Authority of Death surged forward, a wave of sickly black energy cascading toward the knight. The construct met the attack head-on, its blade cutting through the death energy like sunlight parting shadows. Pandora narrowed his eyes, his crimson gaze flicking to Fate. ¡°Clever tricks, but tricks won¡¯t save you.¡±


    The Authority of Error surged again, this time targeting the knight itself. Its form glitched violently, its golden light flickering as Pandora¡¯s influence threatened to unravel it. Fate raised a hand, and the knight shattered into a thousand shards, each one transforming mid-air into smaller constructs¡ªarchers, mages, and swordsmen¡ªall aimed at Pandora.


    ¡°Your problem, brother,¡± Fate said, his voice steady despite the chaos, ¡°is that you think destruction is the only path to victory.¡±


    Pandora dodged a volley of arrows, his form glitching out of existence and reappearing on the far side of the room. ¡°And your problem,¡± Pandora snapped, raising his hand to unleash another wave of error, ¡°is that you think intellect will save you from death.¡±


    The room warped as Pandora¡¯s Authority tore through the constructs, unraveling them one by one. Yet, for every fallen creation, Fate conjured another¡ªa dragon of cascading books, a shield forged from spinning tomes, and a spear of crystalline words. The library was alive, bending to Fate¡¯s will as if the very essence of knowledge itself fought alongside him.


    Pandora smirked, his form flickering as he darted through the chaos. He reached Fate in an instant, his hand outstretched to strike. ¡°Let¡¯s see you rewrite this,¡± he growled, his Authority of Death converging into a sharp blade aimed directly at Fate¡¯s chest.


    Fate didn¡¯t move. Instead, the surrounding air shimmered, and a massive clock face materialized between them, its hands spinning wildly. The blade struck the clock, and time seemed to freeze. Pandora¡¯s expression twisted in confusion as his strike hung suspended mid-air.


    ¡°You forget,¡± Fate said softly, his voice carrying an almost fatherly tone, ¡°that here, I control not just the space, but the very rules of existence.¡±


    With a snap of his fingers, the clock shattered, sending Pandora flying backward. He collided with a bookshelf, the impact splintering wood and scattering books. Fate¡¯s constructs closed in, their glowing forms ready to strike.


    Pandora wiped a trickle of golden ichor from his mouth, his grin returning as he stood. ¡°Not bad, brother,¡± he admitted, his crimson eyes flaring once more. ¡°But let¡¯s see how long your little library can hold against true chaos.¡±


    As Pandora raised his hands, preparing to unleash another surge of destruction, Fate stepped forward, unshaken. ¡°You¡¯ll find,¡± he said, his voice like the turning of a page, ¡°that in my library, chaos always finds itself rewritten.¡±


    Fate stood at the center of his domain, his golden eyes glowing with determination. Around him, the library hummed with a life of its own, the boundless knowledge within its shelves stirring to his call. ¡°Very well, Pandora,¡± he said, his voice calm yet firm. ¡°Let us see how chaos fares against the timeless wisdom of stories.¡±


    Pandora¡¯s grin widened, his crimson eyes blazing as the Authority of Error glitched the surrounding air. ¡°You think your little fairy tales will stop me? Let¡¯s tear apart your precious fantasies.¡±


    Fate raised his hand, and from a nearby shelf, a glowing tome floated into his grasp. The air shimmered as the book opened, its pages flipping rapidly before bursting into light. From its pages emerged Beowulf, his massive frame clad in chainmail, wielding a blade forged to slay monsters.


    Beowulf charged at Pandora, his sword slicing through the warped reality around him. Pandora countered with a wave of his Authority, the air fracturing into jagged shards of error. Beowulf¡¯s blade cut through the distortion, his war cry echoing through the library.


    ¡°Let¡¯s raise the stakes,¡± Fate said, summoning another book. This one was bound in black leather, its title glowing faintly, Sherlock Holmes. A tall, sharp-eyed man in a tweed coat stepped forward, his magnifying glass gleaming like a weapon. ¡°Pandora¡¯s weakness lies in his arrogance,¡± Holmes said coolly, analyzing the scene. ¡°Strike where he least expects it.¡±


    Pandora scoffed as Holmes directed Beowulf¡¯s attack, the ancient warrior forcing Pandora to dodge left. Holmes tossed a small glass vial¡ªa chemical concoction that exploded into a plume of blinding smoke. Pandora stumbled momentarily, his form glitching as he tried to recalibrate.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting desperate,¡± Pandora sneered, regaining his composure. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a swirling orb of death energy, launching it toward Fate.


    Pandora snarled, slashing at the trio with his Authority. ¡°Do you really think a few fictional characters can stop me?!¡± he bellowed.


    Fate ignored Pandora¡¯s taunt, summoning a tome with jagged green lettering, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. From its pages emerged the Creature, towering and fearsome, his mismatched limbs radiating strength.


    ¡°You, god of chaos, are no exception to consequence,¡± the Creature growled, his voice thick with anguish.


    He charged Pandora, delivering a crushing blow. Pandora¡¯s Authority of Error distorted the attack into nothingness, but the Creature pressed on, grabbing Pandora by the throat.


    ¡°You cannot break what is already broken,¡± the Creature snarled, hurling Pandora into a bookshelf.


    Fate smirked. ¡°Poetic, isn¡¯t it, brother?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just delaying the inevitable!¡± Pandora shouted, his crimson eyes glowing brighter. He raised his hands, summoning a wave of glitching chaos that consumed the ground beneath him. ¡°Let¡¯s see your stories save you now!¡±


    Fate responded by opening a fiery red book. Its title, The Iliad. From the pages emerged Achilles, his bronze armor shining as he charged forward, his spear aimed with deadly precision. The room seemed to tremble with his rage as he leaped at Pandora, his weapon piercing through the wall of death energy and striking Pandora¡¯s chest. Pandora staggered, the golden ichor of his form spilling slightly before his body glitched and reformed.


    ¡°You can¡¯t kill me!¡± Pandora roared, his voice reverberating through the library. He raised his hand to strike, but Fate was already flipping open another book. This one radiated an aura of wisdom and power. Its title read ¡®Harry Potter and the Philosopher''s Stone¡¯.


    From the book stepped Albus Dumbledore, his long silver beard flowing as he raised his wand. ¡°To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,¡± Dumbledore intoned, sending a burst of white magic that shattered Pandora¡¯s attack mid-air.


    The library was filled with more characters, each one joining the fray. Atticus Finch distracted Pandora with sharp rhetoric, while Katniss Everdeen fired arrows from the shadows. Hercules grappled with Pandora directly, his strength keeping the god at bay. Even Dracula appeared, his dark power momentarily eclipsing Pandora¡¯s Authority of Death.


    ¡°You think you can overwhelm me with numbers?¡± Pandora hissed, his crimson eyes glowing fiercely. He raised both hands, unleashing a surge of his Authority that sent many of the summoned characters scattering. ¡°Your stories are fragile. Your creations are illusions!¡±


    Fate¡¯s voice rang out, calm yet commanding. ¡°Stories endure, brother. They are not fragile¡ªthey are eternal.¡± He summoned one final book, its cover gleaming with a golden light, The Epic of Gilgamesh. From the pages stepped Gilgamesh himself, his towering presence radiating authority. With a roar, Gilgamesh slammed a massive blade into the ground, causing a shockwave that disrupted Pandora¡¯s Authority momentarily.


    Panting, Pandora stumbled back, glaring at the figures Fate had summoned, their watchful gazes pinning him in place. ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± he growled, his voice ragged but still laced with defiance. ¡°You can¡¯t keep this up forever.¡±


    Fate¡¯s expression remained calm, almost serene. He ran his fingers along the spines of countless books, his movements deliberate and final. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said softly. ¡°This cannot go on forever. Goodbye, brother. You¡¯re banned from my library.¡±


    Before Pandora could respond, the surrounding air distorted, reality twisting like the turning of a page. In an instant, he found himself back in his chamber, seated in his chair. His crimson eyes widened as he realized what had just happened. For the first time in centuries, Pandora felt powerless. ¡°Goodbye, brother. It is time to end this,¡± Fate¡¯s voice echoed faintly in the stillness, a ghostly reminder of the battle lost.


    Back in the library, Fate stood motionless, his hands trembling as he turned to Eden, who lay on the ground clutching her head in pain. ¡°Memories are the foundation of who we are,¡± Fate said, his voice steady but raw, each word weighed down by the enormity of his decision. ¡°To lose them is to lose ourselves. But for Iris, for Maxwell, for those who deserve a future¡­ this is the price we pay.¡±


    Eden¡¯s voice trembled as she called out weakly, ¡°Fate¡­¡± Her fiery aura flickered faintly, her strength fading alongside the memories she had surrendered.


    Fate sighed deeply, his resolve unbroken but his heart heavy. He reached into his desk and withdrew a red book, its leather cover worn but brimming with unspoken power. The memories he had extracted glimmered faintly, swirling within the ink of a glass quill pen. The translucent snake dissolved completely into the ink, a tempest of emotion confined within the fragile vessel.


    He opened the book, its blank pages radiating an aura of infinite possibilities. The pen hovered above the paper, his hand trembling with hesitation. ¡°I am a bad father,¡± he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I abandoned my daughter. I thrust her into this cursed game, knowing the pain it would bring. But if I can do one thing right¡ªif I can keep her safe¡ªthen this sacrifice will have meaning.¡±


    The first stroke of the quill met the page, and a tear slid down his cheek, staining the glowing parchment. With each word he inscribed, fragments of his memories unraveled, fading like the final notes of a symphony. The quill scratched against the paper, forging a new narrative, each stroke carving out a future where Iris and Maxwell might live.


    Eden rose shakily to her feet, her fiery locks casting dim shadows across the room. She watched her brother, the man who had always seemed unshakable, now crumbling under the weight of his own choices. Her hands trembled as they clutched her chest, the ache of loss searing like a brand. Tears spilled down her face as she whispered, ¡°Fate, you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said softly, cutting her off without looking up. His focus remained on the glowing pages, the ink of their sacrifices burning brightly as reality itself bent to his will. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    The book¡¯s glow intensified, pulsating with a radiant energy that seemed to ripple through the room. As the rewritten story solidified, the surrounding air shimmered, time and space reshaping themselves to accommodate the new future.


    Fate set the pen down, his hand lingering on the book as he whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll always love you, my dearest Iris.¡±