The elevator doors slid open with a low hiss, revealing the sprawling underground facility beneath the Stygian Order's castle. Siegert stepped out first, followed closely by Petrova, who carried Miyako over her shoulder with effortless strength. I followed in their wake, my boots echoing faintly against the pristine, silver-plated floor.
Of all the inexplicable things in this world, one truth stood out above all else—this realm was an impossible blend of medieval life and modern society. Kingdoms stood tall alongside governments, dragons soared in skies occasionally crossed by helicopters, and while swords still settled disputes, firearms were by no means obsolete. It made no sense. And yet, here we were, stepping out of a sleek, mechanical elevator embedded in the very foundations of a castle.
The facility stretched before us, a vast corridor lined with doors leading to various sections—strategy rooms, training halls, planning centers—each one dedicated to the operations of the Stygian Order. Cybernetic consoles flickered with light along the walls, their soft hum barely audible against the distant murmur of voices. At the far end of the hall lay the Command Center, where our most serious meetings were held.
The moment we stepped inside, the tension in the air was palpable.
A cluster of operatives stood gathered in the far corner, their attention fixated on a single figure hunched on the floor. Lora knelt beside her, desperation evident in her voice.
"Just calm down! Tell me what happened!"
Katayama, one of our finest snipers, was on all fours, trembling violently. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps as though she were suffocating on something unseen. Sweat clung to her skin, her fingers digging into the cold floor as though anchoring herself to reality.
Siegert and Petrova wasted no time, striding toward her with concern. I followed closely, but the moment her eyes landed on me, she flinched—her body jerking as though I'd struck her.
"L-leader! I-I promise, I didn't fail the mission, I swear!" Her voice cracked, frantic and desperate, her words tumbling over each other.
This was new.
In all the years I had known her, I had never seen Katayama—our calm, unshakable marksman—look so utterly broken. Tears streaked down her face, mixing with the saliva dripping from her trembling lips. Her entire body quaked as though barely holding itself together.
"Katayama," I said firmly. "Stand up."
She struggled, nearly collapsing as she pushed herself upright. Her legs wobbled beneath her, her breaths shallow. I extended a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. Her grip was clammy, weak—nothing like the firm, steady hands that once held a sniper rifle with deadly precision.
"Take a deep breath," I instructed. "Tell me what happened."
She obeyed, though it took several shaky inhales before she could force the words out.
"It was horrific…" Katayama swallowed hard. "It happened in seconds. I was watching… assuming it was just a normal public execution… but when he closed his speech… I felt something. A presence I've never encountered before."
She clutched her chest as though trying to suppress the memory clawing its way to the surface.
"Leader… you know my instincts. I'm an observer. I can tell when something is wrong, when something is evil—"
"He?" I began, but before I could finish, she struck my chest with both fists.
"The Serpent King," she sobbed. "That damn Serpent King… God damn it, God damn it, GOD DAMN IT!"
Her voice cracked, raw and filled with something deeper than fear. It was the sound of someone who had witnessed true horror. A chill settled over the room, creeping into our bones. Even those who hadn't been there—who hadn't seen what she had—seemed to feel the weight of her terror.
Katayama's breath hitched.
"Reality warped before my eyes," she whispered, her voice hollow. "I saw them—hundreds of people—standing one moment, and in the next, they were gone. Impaled. Dismembered. Torn apart in ways I can't even describe."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
It had been so long since I had felt this. The sheer weight of dread, of shock, of an unshakable, suffocating despair. I had seen men break before—but never her.
Katayama had always been strong. Unwavering.
But now, cradled in my arms like a child, she looked shattered.
Whoever—whatever—this Serpent King was, he was no ordinary man.
He was a devil.
The heavy atmosphere remained unbroken as the doors slid open once more. Several more figures stepped into the Command Center, their presence accompanied by the soft shuffle of boots against steel.
A few members from Section Eagle and Section Reaper.
"Oh, you guys made it," I said, forcing myself to shift my focus. "Apologies for the delay. The debrief will begin shortly."
One of them, a young woman with short, frost-kissed hair and an amused smirk, crossed her arms. Wisps of icy mist curled around her fingertips.
"It's alright," she drawled. "Katayama's lovely screaming pretty much told us everything already."
Takamoto Kamiko. The wielder of Iceborne, an ability that granted her complete control over primordial ice and another member of Section Reaper.
"I don't care about all that," another voice cut in. A man with wild, frenzied eyes scratched absently at his face, his lips curled into something between a grin and a grimace.
"All this talk about reality warping has me hyped." His breath hitched with something disturbingly close to excitement. "I wanna kill him."
Ravok Veylan. The wielder of Pandemonium, an ability that gave him mastery over chaos itself and another member of Section Reaper. His mere presence was unsettling, as though something inside him was constantly unhinged.
A third figure stepped forward, his movements slower, more controlled. His expression betrayed nothing—calm, composed—but his clenched jaw and the tension in his shoulders told a different story.
"…Unbelievable," he muttered. His voice was soft, measured, but carried a weight that demanded attention. "To think that someone could do such a thing." His hands curled into fists. "I will break him."
Kieran Voss of Section Eagle.
Born blind, yet never hindered by it. He was the wielder of Resonation—an ability that granted him absolute mastery over sound. Though he rarely raised his voice, every word he spoke carried a sense of quiet certainty.
Even now, as he stood in the wake of Katayama's horror, his resolve never wavered.
The Serpent King had made his move.
And we would answer.
A few minutes passed before Katayama finally calmed down, though she still sniffled now and then. The command center remained quiet, save for the faint hum of machinery, the occasional flicker of holographic displays, and the rustling of uniforms as we all huddled around the large screen-like table in the center of the room.
"Thanks to our wonderful Section Eagle, we've gained intel on a new threat," I began, gesturing toward the holographic display, which flickered to life with an image of The Kingdom of Edenia—a pristine civilization bathed in golden light, its towering spires piercing the sky like an artist's final, flawless strokes on a masterpiece.
But then, the image changed.
The once-vibrant cityscape twisted, colors bleeding into a grotesque nightmare. Shadows slithered over the ruined buildings, once-proud statues crumbled like brittle clay, and thick, blackened cracks spread across the earth like veins of corruption. The remnants of Edenia's former glory were now engulfed in devastation.
A few gasps echoed through the room. Katayama flinched and averted her gaze, clutching the edges of her sleeves as if to shield herself from the horror. Others followed suit, eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to witness the kingdom's fate.
"During the public execution of Edenia's rulers, a man known as The Serpent King appeared," I continued. "He gave a speech—one that spoke of his so-called rebirth. And when his words ended…" I hesitated for a moment, looking at the destruction before us. "…Reality itself seemed to warp. Edenia was reduced to this in an instant."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I turned toward Katayama, her hands still trembling. "You did well," I said, my voice quieter now. "Thank you for your hard work."
She didn't reply, only nodding weakly, but that was enough. With a flick of my wrist, I shut off the holographic display.
A voice broke the silence.
"Should I go and see what we're dealing with?"
I turned to see one of the Eagle operatives, tipping his large white sombrero-like hat upward, his right eye—a piercing green—half-hidden beneath the shadow of his balaclava.
Maxime Gardinier.
Among the most combative members of Section Eagle, Maxime possessed the unique ability Gateway—the power to create portals to anywhere and everywhere. He was always seen in his pristine white business suit, an enigmatic presence who blended the refinement of a diplomat with the lethality of an assassin.
"If need be," he added casually, "I'll just erase him."
"Ooh, I hope he has an army!" another voice chirped, brimming with excitement. "An army that can be turned into toys for Kaia Zero!"
Salida Kiefer.
One of Section Specialist's most eccentric operatives, Salida was an engineer first and an unpredictable menace second. She practically bounced in place, her mind already running wild with the possibilities.
The room erupted into discussion. Some eager for battle, others burning with curiosity about this Serpent King. I could hear the voices overlapping—strategies, theories, even reckless propositions.
Enough.
"No!" My voice sliced through the noise like a blade.
The room fell silent, every head turning toward me.
"No one is going to fight him," I said firmly. "And no one is going to scout him alone, either. Do you understand? Any direct confrontation could result in casualties, and I will not risk losing anyone over reckless curiosity."
A slow clap echoed from behind me.
"Well then," a voice drawled, rich with amusement. "Why don't you send me, Leader?"
I turned as the doors slid open, revealing a man dressed in an immaculate pitch-black business suit, a briefcase resting at his side.
"After all," he continued smoothly, stepping forward, "the world doesn't know me as anything more than your average businessman."
Ryuk Kyung.
The Transporter. The Gatekeeper. The Enigma.
A member of Section Reaper, Ryuk possessed an ability that made him invaluable—Spatial Travel, allowing him to teleport himself and others with absolute precision. Among all the men I had encountered in my years as a leader, he was one of the few I would call… unfathomable.
Where others revealed their intentions through speech or action, Ryuk remained a locked door, his motivations and true thoughts buried beneath layers of practiced nonchalance.
"Your timing is just impeccable, Ryuk," I said, half-exasperated, half-relieved. "I completely forgo—"
Before I could finish, a blur of motion streaked past me.
Miyako and Ravok had closed the distance in an instant, causing me to take a reflexive step back.
"You bastard!" Miyako snarled, jabbing a finger into Ryuk's forehead. "Of course you were late! How the hell do you waltz into a meeting after the debriefing has already started?!"
"And walking in with all that aura?" Ravok chimed in, his own finger pressing into Ryuk's cheek. "You think you're better than the Leader or something?!"
I sighed.
"Miyako, how the hell are you even up?! You were unconscious just a minute ago!" Petrova called from the floor, where she had been tending to Miyako just moments before.
"It's fine," I said quickly, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalated.
Miyako and Ravok reluctantly backed off, though their eyes still gleamed with suspicion—like guard dogs reluctantly retreating on command.
Ryuk only adjusted his tie, entirely unfazed. "Such playful assets," he remarked lightly, as if he were observing a pair of misbehaving children rather than two elite operatives ready to pounce on him. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he turned back to me. "You were saying, Leader?"
With that, the meeting wrapped up, and operatives began dispersing, returning to their respective duties.
I remained by the table, turning back to Ryuk as the room emptied.
"We've gone over Section Eagle's intel on the Serpent King," I said, pulling up the holographic display once more. "Now that you're here, I want you to investigate him personally."
Ryuk raised an eyebrow.
"Gather intel on his forces, mark any potential hideouts—anything that might give us an advantage," I continued, handing him a firearm and a specialized knife, both crafted by Section Specialist's engineers.
Ryuk took them without hesitation. "Of course," he said smoothly. "I'll see what I can find. Expect to hear from me soon."
With a casual wave, he stepped backward and—just like that—vanished into thin air.
As I stared at the empty space where he had stood, a single thought settled in my mind.
This will be my first war.
Not as a detective. Not as a lone fighter.
But as a Leader.
We needed to play this smart. No reckless fights. No unnecessary risks.
Miyako leaned against my shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "You sent him of all people? How lame. You should've just sent some of us Reapers to tear that Serpent King apart."
I smirked, shoving her off my shoulder playfully as I turned toward the exit. "No. You guys are too reckless."
Miyako huffed.
Petrova and Siegert flanked us as we walked out of the command center, the weight of the impending battle settling over me like a storm cloud.
The sun burned overhead, casting a golden haze over the bustling streets of the city. Ryuk Kyung strode through the chaos, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of towering buildings. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling meats, spiced fruits, and the ever-present musk of too many bodies crammed into too little space. Street vendors called out in hoarse voices, advertising everything from handwoven cloaks to questionable elixirs. Mopeds and small, rickety vehicles zipped past, their drivers weaving effortlessly through the throng of pedestrians.
Ryuk stopped at a modest wooden stall, its canopy faded from years under the relentless sun. A large wooden bucket, filled to the brim with apples, sat atop the counter. The vendor—a wrinkled old man with a crooked smile and kind, weary eyes—leaned forward expectantly.
"I'd like two of these," Ryuk said, his voice calm but firm as he pointed at the apples.
The vendor's face brightened. "Of course, sir! That'll be six copper pieces." His gnarled hands busied themselves with selecting the finest apples, gently placing them into a cloth bag.
Ryuk dug into his pocket, fingers brushing against an assortment of metal coins before pulling out the exact payment—six copper pieces and, accidentally, one platinum piece. The vendor's eyes widened, his hands pausing mid-motion.
"W-Woah!" he stammered, staring at the gleaming platinum coin as if it were a relic of legend. "Sir, are you sure? That's worth far more than—"
"You work tirelessly, standing out here in the heat, providing for those who pass by," Ryuk interrupted, his tone even. "There's no reason I shouldn't give it to you."
The old man blinked, mouth slightly agape before his lips trembled into a smile. "O-Okay! Thank you, sir! Truly, thank you!" His bow was deep, filled with genuine gratitude.
Ryuk responded with a silent nod, slinging the bag of apples over his shoulder before vanishing in a flicker of black mist, ignoring the calls of eager merchants vying for his attention.
This world's currency system was… well, familiar in a way, yet far more intricate.
Copper Pieces were your everyday dollar bills—common, unimpressive, The one-dollar bills. Silver Pieces had the value of ten dollars, while Gold Pieces and Platinum Pieces were the equivalent of hundred-dollar bills. But then, It didn't end there. Obsidian Marks, considered the thousand-dollar notes of this new world, They were definitely new to me. Eldrin Shards, shimmering with an eerie glow, were ten-thousand-dollar equivalents. Dragon Crests, crafted from the scales of ancient beasts, were worth an unfathomable one hundred thousand dollars.
And then, of course, there were Void Tokens—currency of the black market, the underbelly of society.
In my years of living, dying and living again, never had I imagined I'd see something akin to a thousand-dollar bill. But in this world, money had an entirely different weight. It was more than just paper—it was power, it was survival.
Ryuk reappeared in a shadowed alleyway, where the walls were cracked and slick with filth, the air damp and thick with the stench of decay. This was the Black Market.
Shops lined the narrow passage like makeshift tombs, their owners lurking within, their wares more sinister than anything found in the city above. Severed limbs floated in preservation tanks, displayed like fine jewelry. Shackled figures sat in cages, their hollow stares meeting Ryuk's only briefly before looking away. Weapons, glowing with unnatural energy, hummed ominously on rusted racks.
A voice sliced through the gloom.
"Hey, businessman! Fancy some death on a discount? Only five Void Tokens for these beauties!" A gaunt man with needle-like teeth grinned from behind a stall, holding up a serrated dagger that pulsed with an ominous red glow.
"Fresh slaves! Fresh slaves here!" another voice bellowed. "Noblemen, women, children—elves! You name it! They'll solve all your problems!"
Ryuk ignored them. The Black Market was no different from Earth's dark web—only here, the atrocities were in full view. Criminals became shopkeepers, fallen kings became desperate merchants. Information was the true currency here. If you needed dirt on someone, you didn't go to the city archives. You came to Death's Alley.
A maze of filth and corruption, this place was the most infamous Black Market in the entire region. Unlike others, which operated in secrecy, Death's Alley thrived in broad daylight, as if daring the world to stop it.
Ryuk moved through the winding passages without a care, his confidence unshaken. He knew his own capabilities—there was no need for caution. Eventually, he turned into a side alley where fewer shops stood, their owners more elusive, more dangerous.
And then—
"Oh hey! I-It's you!"
A man burst from behind a small stand, his thin frame nearly colliding with Ryuk before he pulled him into an eager hug.
"Ah, yes. Hello, Filippo," Ryuk muttered, neither returning nor rejecting the embrace.
Filippo Romano — The Fallen Heir
Filippo Romano had once been heir to the great Romano Kingdom—a life of luxury, power, and security. His family had been the appointed caretakers of the Iceborne Dragons, creatures of ancient frost, their origins steeped in mystery. It was an honor bound by generations of duty.
But then—something went wrong. Something catastrophic.
Filippo's legacy crumbled overnight, his name cast into disgrace. Now, he was just another desperate soul in Death's Alley, selling whatever scraps of worth he could find in an attempt to reclaim his stolen future.
"So, what brings you here, Ryuk?" Filippo asked with an exaggerated grin. "Looking to buy another souvenir for the family?"
Ryuk exhaled sharply, glancing around before meeting Filippo's gaze. "Actually, I need information. Where is Capricia?"
Filippo scratched the back of his head, already chuckling. "Ah, well… I hate to break it to you, but she just skipped town! Hah!"
Ryuk pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite having pulled Filippo out of the pit of despair once before, he never ceased to be an idiot.
"This isn't a joke. I need dirt on someone," Ryuk said, his voice losing patience. "This is direct orders from the Leader himself."
Filippo visibly stiffened. "W-Wait, you're telling me Kazuhiro wants my help?" His voice wavered between disbelief and excitement.
"Yes." Ryuk folded his arms. "Do you have any info on the Serpent King?"
For a brief moment, Filippo was silent.
Then, he muttered, "Ryuk… do you even realize who you're dealing with?"
"Yes," Ryuk replied. "That's why I—"
"Follow me."
Without another word, Filippo led Ryuk into the back of his shop.
As they stepped through the narrow hallway, an oppressive air settled around them. The candlelight flickered against damp, peeling walls. Dead rats lay discarded in corners, the stench of decay blending with the sour scent of mold. Each room they passed was small, barely more than a closet—one a bedroom, another a bathroom, all the markings of a low-end apartment, yet somehow worse.
"Ignore the filth," Filippo said dismissively. "This place has always been disgusting. Here, inside."
He pulled aside a curtain of old, beaded strings, revealing a small room bathed in an eerie purple glow.
At the center of the room, an orb pulsed with light, flickering as if alive. Floating screens danced within its depths, shifting between fragmented images—snippets of possible futures.
"This is Capricia's room," Filippo murmured, kneeling beside the orb. "She's been teaching me how to read the future."
Ryuk remained standing. "And let me guess. You took a peek ahead out of curiosity?"
Filippo chuckled darkly. "Yeah… and I hate to say it, but…"
He activated the orb, the screens flashing faster.
"It's not looking good."
Ryuk's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
"You see, this Serpent King guy… he isn't just another bad guy like the ones you've dealt with before. He's a force to be reckoned with." Filippo's voice was unusually grave, his fingers flicking through the glowing screens within the orb. The eerie purple light cast flickering shadows across the dimly lit room.
Ryuk narrowed his eyes. "How dangerous are we talking?"
Filippo stopped scrolling. "As far as I know, he performed an ancient ritual. And when I say ancient… I mean ancient—it dates back to the Holy Wars."
Ryuk's expression darkened. "Holy Wars?" His mind raced. Those wars were the stuff of legend, stories woven into the very fabric of this world's history.
"Yeah," Filippo said, leaning forward. "And what makes it worse is that this ritual… it's called The Wrath of the Serpent God."
Ryuk exhaled sharply. His gaze flickered to the orb as it displayed a glowing diagram—a crude yet intricate magic circle, its jagged, uneven lines pulsing with an ominous energy. It looked more like the chaotic scribblings of a madman than a structured spell.
"That thing looks ridiculous," Ryuk muttered, setting his suitcase down. "Like a kid's drawing."
"The hard truth?" Filippo sighed. "I don't know how he even managed to obtain instructions for it. But he did. And that's all that matters now."
He tapped the orb again, and a series of images flashed by—ancient texts, forgotten temples, bloodstained altars. Then, finally, it settled on the face of a young boy.
"Fifty years ago, a child was born. His name was Nikolaus Derichs—the heir to the Kingdom of Edenia."
Ryuk studied the image. The boy looked… ordinary. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a face full of youthful innocence.
"Back then, he was everything a kingdom could ask for in a prince—kind, intelligent, strong. A symbol of hope. Can you imagine it? Millions of people looking up to you before you've even lived long enough to understand what any of it means?" Filippo gave a bitter chuckle. "But hope," he muttered, "is a fragile thing."
The orb flickered again, revealing a night shrouded in chaos. Flames. Screams. Shadows moving like wraiths in the darkness.
"And then," Filippo continued, "came the night of the raid."
Ryuk straightened. "Who attacked them?"
Filippo's voice lowered. "The Kingdom of Heimdall. A nation of warriors. Vikings. Bloodthirsty, unrelenting, battle-hardened. But this wasn't some conquest for land or wealth. No. This was personal."
The images shifted again. A woman—beautiful, regal—bound in chains. Beside her, the same young boy, shackled to the wall.
"The queen," Filippo said, his tone now laced with a simmering rage, "was taken prisoner alongside her son. For days—weeks—months, they were tortured. The Heimdall warriors wanted something. Something only the queen and her heir knew. But they never spoke. Not once."
Ryuk clenched his fists, but he remained silent, waiting.
Filippo exhaled shakily. "When brute force failed, they turned to something worse."
The orb's glow dimmed as it revealed the next scene. The boy, helpless, chained like an animal. The queen—his mother—dragged before him.
Ryuk didn't need to hear the rest to know where this was going.
"They broke her," Filippo whispered. "Right in front of him."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Ryuk exhaled through his nose. He'd seen cruelty. He'd witnessed horrors. But some things still managed to make his blood boil.
"After that…" Filippo's voice wavered for a moment before regaining composure. "Nikolaus eventually escaped. He fled into an alleyway. And then—"
He tapped the orb again, but the screen flickered violently before distorting into static.
Ryuk frowned. "That's it? It just ends there?"
Filippo nodded grimly. "Yeah. For some reason, the orb can't access anything beyond that point. Something corrupted the timeline."
Ryuk let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. Then what about now? Do you have any information on what he's capable of after his transformation?"
Filippo hesitated. His fingers curled slightly as he stared at the now-dark orb.
Then, in a low voice, he muttered, "Calamity."
Ryuk's head tilted slightly. "What?"
Filippo's hands dropped from the orb. "That's what he commands now. Calamity." His lips curled into an uneasy smile. "The power to manipulate disaster itself—whether it's natural, man-made, or something beyond comprehension."
Ryuk's pulse quickened. That kind of ability… It wasn't just powerful. It was terrifying.
Filippo chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Honestly, just thinking about it makes my skin crawl." He leaned back. "Ryuk… if I'm being honest, this guy is on a whole 'nother level."
A shadow passed over Ryuk's expression, but he said nothing.
Filippo continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "A normal punch isn't gonna cut it. Magic orbs? Tornadoes? Hell, even an army might not be enough. You guys need to be smart about this."
For the first time in a long while, Ryuk Kyung felt something foreign creeping up his spine.
Fear.
And before he could let it take root, he activated Spatial Travel—and disappeared.