The gates of Therma were already broken.
Flames clawed toward the sky, thick black smoke twisting into the night air. The metallic scent of burning steel and charred flesh hung heavy. Raito and Evelyne stepped through the shattered arch, passing soldiers who stood at uneasy attention. Beyond them, a massive midnight-purple armored truck squatted like a beast at rest — tall, plated, and bristling with reinforced bolts. The trailer's single door faced the courtyard, its surface unmarked except for the faint hiss of cooling vents.
A handful of Therma's survivors knelt in a ragged line before it, bound and bruised. The fire's glow reflected in their eyes — some defiant, some hollow, one trembling uncontrollably.
Raito stopped a few steps from them, his voice cutting the crackle of fire.
"Where are Haruka… and Mama's Fangs?"
Silence. Then a curse, spat from one of the bolder survivors. Others kept their eyes fixed on the dirt. The trembling man whimpered but said nothing.
Raito's lips twitched — not quite anger, not quite pity. He exhaled, stepped back, and without warning—
BANG. BANG.
His knuckles slammed twice against the trailer door. The sharp metallic echo cracked through the courtyard. Every survivor flinched.
The door creaked open.
Thorne stepped into view.
a figure appeared. Bald, powerfully built, every inch radiating authority. He wore a deep crimson suit, gold buttons and chain catching the light, and a midnight-purple cape draped over his broad shoulders. Black-and-gold tattoos wound down his forearms, partially hidden beneath his sleeves. A gold watch gleamed on his wrist, and his polished black shoes bore ornate gold clasps.
His piercing, calculating gaze swept over the survivors. Every movement deliberate, measured, and deadly. Even standing still, he commanded the room. Air seemed to bend around him. Elegant, dangerous, unyielding — Graystone Thorne had arrived.
Before Thorne could speak, the broken man blurted out, voice cracking:
"They took him in — Haruka! he's one of us, he killed our spy, saved Mama's Fangs— I swear!"
Thorne didn't look at him. Instead, he tilted his head toward the horizon, watching the distant flames as if listening but not looking.
He turned his gaze to the trembling survivor and began walking toward him, each step deliberate, heavy, as if the ground itself feared his weight. "Do not fear," Thorne said smoothly, crouching to meet the man's eye level. "I am nothing but a mere human."
The survivor stammered, voice cracking. "I-I'm so sorry, sir! That… that will never happen again, sir!"
Thorne rested a massive hand on the man's shoulder, rubbing his throat gently, shushing him with a deliberate patience that made the room shiver. "I am grateful for this… very important information," he murmured, "but I hate being interrupted."
The survivor flinched, begging faster now, tears falling.
CRUSH.
Thorne's hand squeezed. The sound of bone snapping echoed in the courtyard. Blood spattered across his crimson sleeve. He did not flinch. He straightened, voice calm but terrifying: "I told you to shush."
He stood, letting the weight of his presence sweep over the others. "Do not stress," he said, voice low but carrying, "I kill only if I am disobeyed. Now… is what he says true?"
Silence. No one dared answer.
A man glared up at him, anger burning in his eyes. "Oh dear," Thorne said softly, tilting his head, "someone is angry." He strode toward the defiant man. "I want… Haruka," he declared, voice icy and unflinching. "I care little for Therma itself."
The survivor spat out a warning, desperation lacing every word: "We know it's about the Mask—like Raito's! You've messed up. Once they reach H.O.T, you'll never see your brother, Raito."
Thorne chuckled, low and dark. The other Obsidian men laughed with him, the sound sharp against the chaos around them. When the laughter died, Thorne crouched once more, eyes locked on the survivor. "Then… I suppose tonight's the night Therma falls. And you…" he gestured with a sweep of his hand, "…will be the one to witness it all."
He straightened, turning on his heel. "I only need the angry one." The trailer door hissed as it closed behind him.
The massive truck shuddered to life, engines growling like a caged beast. Evelyne moved swiftly, her plasma scythe gleaming in the firelight. The remaining survivors faltered, except for the defiant, angry one. With precise, deadly movements, she dispatched the others, leaving only the chosen witness.
The truck lurched forward, carrying Thorne, Raito, Evelyne, and the solitary survivor into the night, the flames of the destroyed Therma HQ reflected in their eyes.