Morrin's smile sharpened.
"We've got a real match coming up, Iris Vale~"
---
The wind didn't howl.
It held its breath.
Beneath the twilight shimmer of this dimension's dead sky, Iris Vale stood on cracked obsidian ground. Her new scythe—a crescent weapon forged from hollow bone and plated in reactive nanoglass—thrummed against her palm. The white glyphs along the blade's edge pulsed.
From her bracelet, the spirit AVERICE floated like a sickly wraith of silk fire—white flames in constant motion, unraveling in fractal spirals, trailing behind like divine ash.
> "It's our first fight together, Miss Vale," AVERICE's voice was dispassionate and eternal.
"Do not disappoint me."
---
-Spirit System-
[The spirit system revolves around the concept of karma. As mentioned earlier, spirits belong to a third case—they are neither sent to afterlife nor Hell but are drawn to the Void due to their neutral karma.
To define the strength of these spirits, the user must maintain a well-balanced karmic alignment.
The more evil the user, the more destructive the spirit's power becomes—but it spirals out of control.
The more good the user, the more focused and precise the spirit's power—but with less raw force.
But what if you're neutral?
That's right—Iris has already reached a point where she can wield immense destructive power without losing control.
We call that: ABSOLUTE EQUILUX.]
---
With one forward step, Iris activated her first ability:
🜂 DEATHLACE — "Thread your weapon through their lifeline."
A blinding arc of white thread lashed out from her scythe, etching glowing trails across the battlefield. The threads stitched into reality—each one connecting to a bald, robed agent of the enemy.
She pulled once.
Their bodies imploded into flickers of light and smoke, their conceptual cores erased, as if overwritten by divine code.
No blood. No scream.
Just nothingness where once there were lives.
Gone in under forty-nine seconds.
"Well, that's interesting. This felt similar, yet it's quite efficient," Iris commented.
The faceless man didn't react.
He was just there—as if those people didn't matter.
Perhaps they really didn't?
---
-8 minutes left-
The wind picked up, agitated, as the masked figure stepped out of a distortion ripple.
His presence shattered the delicate harmony of the world like a discordant chord.
He wore a cracked white porcelain mask. No eyes were visible.
He didn't speak, but the ground itself seemed to recoil under his step.
"Miss Vale, be careful around this person," AVERICE's voice echoed telepathically.
"He is tethered to a false spirit. Not one born of death, but of fractured time. A failed construct spirit—a Chrono-Wrath—doomed to relive perfect combat."
"You're saying… he has something like you, but also not like you?" Iris asked, raising her scythe.
"Precisely," AVERICE replied without missing a beat.
Iris fell silent for a moment, locking eyes with his faceless mask.
Then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
He fired bullets from his pistols—but they weren't ordinary.
They had an entirely different structure.
What the—?
Iris sliced the bullets just in time.
She felt something off. She couldn't tell what. No one could.
But there was no time to be surprised.
She parried a strike that tore the scythe from her hands—
Only for it to reform in her grip, threads rebuilding it mid-spin.
---
-6 minutes left-
His bullets were nonstop.
Despite his calm posture, she could tell—he didn't even have killing intent.
No pattern. No rhythm.
The bullets weren't being fired—they were being teleported.
"These bullets aren't making any sound… not until they're right near me. Is this… teleportation?" she muttered, parrying them, adapting in real time.
She dashed forward, covering the distance in a blink, aiming to catch him off guard.
But he didn't flinch.
He dropped his guns—
And then—
CLANG.
Her scythe met his blade mid-air, echoing down the alley like a warning bell.
The fight turned brutal.
He locked her into pressure loops, forcing her to relive the same three-second interval in fractured variations.
She began slipping.
A slice across her cheek.
No reaction on her face.
She was struggling.
But one thing was certain: Iris could still win.
---
-2 minutes left-
From a nearby tower of junk and rubber, Morrin Nyviel watched—legs crossed, eyes hidden behind augmented lenses, dozens of data streams dancing across her HUD.
"Iris, you stubborn, beautiful, murderous bitch… still acting like a weapon, even in life-threatening situations.
She's adapting like it's a normal Tuesday. This woman would be beyond dangerous if she followed her own ideals."
She watched the scythe curve upward, flames roaring—
Then collapse.
The man drove his blade forward.
"Ten minutes up," Morrin whispered.
White flames surged like a mushroom cloud.
Iris lunged forward.
The masked man's arm twisted unnaturally, grabbing her throat—
But they stopped.
Paused.
At the last possible second—both had weapons at each other's heart and throat.
The air burned.
They broke apart.
Iris and Morrin's bodies flickered—
SHHHUM
The masked figure fell back into his distortion rift.
Iris dropped to one knee. Her coat was sliced clean—nearly to her skin—if not for the teleportation defense.
---
Negative stood calmly, arms crossed, eyeing them both as they stumbled in, battered.
"Did you get what I asked for, Morrin?"
She pulled something from her jacket—a broken camera.
Wires exposed. Lens cracked.
"This thing saw everything. Are you sure you can fix it? It was off the entire time. I had to dig it up like a corpse."
Iris narrowed her eyes.
"You wanted this? After making me relive that goddamn experiment?"
Negative didn't flinch.
"It's not just a camera, Butterfly. It's a time recorder I created. Doesn't matter if it was on or off—it's been recording everything."
"Why's that important, Four-Eye? If they're dangerous, can't we just end them?"
She pulled off her torn coat. Even her nanosuit wasn't working—it had a clean cut, but hadn't reached her flesh.
"That group isn't just people with spirit contracts," Negative replied.
"Like I said—spirit acceptance is the core of any contract.
The human body is just a tenant, living rent-free in the spirit's house.
And they can kick the consciousness out whenever they want."
He paused, looking at Iris.
"You didn't even meet a higher-up. That was someone with the consciousness of a human.
If you fight someone whose consciousness is fully spirit… you're done for.
That's how strong they are.
We can't just storm in and beat everyone up.
You saw it yourself. Didn't you?"
Iris said nothing.
Morrin giggled beside her.
"Told you. He's not someone you want to get into a verbal match with," she teased.
Iris bonked her lightly on the head in silence.
---
-MANA'S PLACE — SMALL DORM ROOM CONVERTED TO A HAVEN-
Sumei slumped on a floor pillow.
"Grandpa, are you done yet?! I swear you're cooking like you're forging a magic sword or something!"
Evan flipped a pan dramatically.
"If I was, you'd still eat it without question."
"Only if it smells like roasted potato or corn," Sumei smirked.
A thump. Mana returned through the hidden corridor.
"Mr. Evan, I found something."
"Something useful?"
"Of course! It's more intel related to that player."
He dropped the party platter onto Sumei's plate She whistled, impressed.
"Cool, Grandpa! Thanks for the food!!" she exclaimed, digging in without a care in the world.
Evan ignored her, eyes focused on Mana's glowing glass tab.
"That 'mithra677' logged in on 11/9/4995 in F.C.H, That's almost 44 years ago.
There's a chance he's still alive."
"Any intel on where he might be? Or his real name?" Evan asked, arms crossed.
"I found his real name—it's Mithra as well. But I couldn't find where he lives," Mana said, sheepishly.
"Why's that?"
"Because the area is restricted by the government.
Only official agents can access it on the world map."
"But… aren't you basically one?"
"I am—but I'm a programmer. I could access it illegally, but I'd lose my license."
Evan went silent, thinking.
His eyes shifted to Sumei.
"Hey… a gravekeeper is technically a government worker, right?" he asked Mana.
Sumei, mid-bite, blinked.
"Well… that depends, of course. But mostly, yeah.
Wait—are you saying we could use my job as a gravekeeper to access that area?"
"I mean—it's been almost 40 years. Someone's gotta have died there.
So it's totally valid to check in, right?"
"You're a genius, Mr. Evan!" Mana said admiringly.
"Simp~" Sumei whispered behind her.
Mana turned red.
"Shut up, Su!!"
Evan sighed and looked out the window...
He saw something.
Far away—but definitely there.
A surveillance bot?