The sky was split by a line of endless mountains. On one side, the sun scorched fiercely; on the other, storm clouds gathered, casting a shadow so deep it felt like day and night had collided.
Standing at the front, Kanzai had one foot planted firmly on his "trophy"—the broken corpse of a strange creature with its spine twisted at an unnatural angle. He turned his head.
"Do you feel it getting colder? Or is that just me?"
Kanzai might've lacked common sense, but his instincts—his perception—were razor sharp.
"You're not imagining it," replied Morel, who also held the vanguard. The enormous smoking pipe in his hand pointed straight ahead, like a compass needle.
"The air temperature really is dropping... especially after we crossed the mountains. The chill just keeps sinking deeper."
"Is it ghosts?" Kanzai, unusually uneasy, glanced nervously around. He wasn't afraid of monsters made of flesh and bone—but the unknown, the supernatural, made him uneasy. "It's ghosts, isn't it?"
Morel shot him a sidelong glance.
"You should know by now—the ghost legends across the Six Continents all come from lingering resentments (Post-Mortem Nen) left behind after death... This place is no exception."
"So it is ghosts." Kanzai was a brave young man, but even he couldn't stop a shiver from running down his spine. What he feared most were enemies his fists couldn't touch.
Morel shrugged, offering no further explanation nor comfort. He simply brought the mouth of his massive pipe to his lips and took a deep drag.
Then, lowering the pipe, he blew forward—exhaling thick streams of smoke into the air ahead.
The smoke gathered, condensed, and hit the ground—transforming into over fifty figures, each one a "Purple Smoke Machine Soldier." They looked like ninjas, solid and silent.
Morel pointed his pipe forward.
The soldiers stirred, spreading out in a fan-shaped formation, darting agilely between the rocks with precision and silence.
Ahead stretched a vast plain of yellow earth.
Countless stone pillars jutted out from the ground like trees, casting long, narrow shadows across the barren land.
In the distance, perched atop a gently rising hill, stood their destination — a grim, twisted fortress formed from a chaotic mesh of stone columns. It loomed like a curse etched into the land.
Kanzai swallowed hard, then tried to calm himself down.
"Even if it is a ghost… it's fine. The main unit isn't far behind us."
"Don't forget why we're here," Morel replied without looking back. He was already commanding the Purple Smoke Automaton Unit to spread out and scout the area.
"We're the vanguard. Our job is to detect and neutralize danger before it reaches the main force. We can't afford to rely on backup for everything."
"I know that!" Kanzai's voice rose slightly, unwilling to let even a trace of fear crack his tough-guy image. "Whatever attacks us—I'll blast it to pieces…"
He hesitated, then added under his breath:
"It's just… I heard ghosts don't have physical bodies. They just cling to you… tormenting you… until your mind breaks."
Morel pressed his lips into a thin line, as if to say something. But before the words could leave his mouth, his expression suddenly changed.
He frowned — and then the frown deepened… deeper and deeper, until it looked like the crease between his brows might split open.
Kanzai noticed the shift immediately.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"All fifty-four of my Purple Smoke Automatons have been wiped out," Morel said grimly.
"Too fast. I didn't even have time to command them to dodge or counterattack."
Kanzai's heart skipped a beat.
Anyone capable of taking out all of Morel's automatons like that… couldn't be ordinary.
"What was it? What hit them?"
"We're about to find out," Morel muttered.
He reached into his coat, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a small metallic sphere. With a press of his thumb, he activated it.
A muffled voice crackled from inside the sphere almost immediately.
"This is Mizaistom. What happened?"
"This is Morel and Kanzai," Morel quickly reported over the line. "There's an enemy on our path. I suggest you take a detour."
"How many enemies?" Mizaistom asked calmly.
A thunderous rumble suddenly erupted, shaking the ground like an earthquake.
Ahead of Morel and Kanzai, a massive circular object rolled into view. Its edge was covered in fine, hair-like aura.
It spun forward like a giant coin, crushing rocks in its path as it barreled toward them.
"Probably just one," Morel said as he stared at the incoming sphere. "It looks like the guardian beast of the late Third Prince, Zhang Lei."
The succession war had dragged on for two months. What began with quick and brutal eliminations had turned into a bitter stalemate. No one could say for sure who would ultimately take the throne.
In the final half-month, only four princes remained as real contenders for the Kakin crown: the First, Second, Third, and Ninth Princes. The others had all perished.
But then, something unexpected came to light—Zhang Lei's true lineage.
As it turned out, his biological father wasn't King Nasubi, but a member of the royal generation without inheritance rights—someone known as a "secondary line" noble named Onior.
Even more shocking, Onior was the head of one of the three major mafia families in Kakin—the Xi-Yu Family.
Though King Nasubi publicly claimed he still regarded Zhang Lei as his son, affirming his right to compete in the succession war, the purge against the Third Prince's faction had already begun in secret.
The king didn't need to lift a finger. The First and Second Princes had all the justification they needed. Their forces struck swiftly and mercilessly.
The Third Queen, who had an affair with Onior, died of illness. Onior himself was killed in a turf war between gangs.
And finally—Zhang Lei took his own life.
The Ninth Prince, Halkenburg, had originally intended to protect the life of the Third Prince.
But at the time, he could no longer suppress the "legacy" left behind by the Fourth Prince, Tserriednich. He was overwhelmed and had no time to spare.
From the moment they boarded the ship, the leaders of the Heil-Ly Family—Morena and Hisoka—gradually stopped following Halkenburg's commands.
Their behavior only grew more erratic and dangerous with time.
Halkenburg eventually lost control over the Heil-Ly Family altogether. He had grown sick of their filth—hidden depravity, chaotic cruelty, and ruthless darkness.
There was no changing what they were. The corruption ran too deep. Just like the forces under Tserriednich's command, the Heil-Ly Family was rotten to the core.
It was only through the Heil-Ly Family that Halkenburg came to see Tserriednich's true nature.
He wasn't the refined, cultured man Halkenburg had once imagined.
BOOM—
A massive disc shot into the air, suddenly rising from hundreds of meters away—hovering directly above the ground where Morel and Kanzai stood.
The disc rotated midair, turning its front side toward the two.
From its center, a pair of giant eyes snapped open.
Black fur began to grow wildly in all directions, blotting out the sun as it spread.
In moments, everything was cast under its enormous shadow.
Kanzai relaxed slightly—at least it wasn't a ghost.
But he quickly tensed again, facing the overwhelming pressure of the beast, slipping into a defensive stance without hesitation.
Morel remained silent, carefully gauging the situation.
Then he spoke, addressing the floating orb:
"It's dangerous. Looks like a Conjurer-type. After absorbing a massive amount of resentment, it's evolved into something much more powerful…"
"But it's not on the level of Meruem or one of the calamities. Probably stronger than the Royal Guards, though. The two of us should be able to handle it."
There was a pause.
Then the voice of Mizaiastom came from the orb:
"Understood. Good luck to both of you."
*******
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