A teenage boy sat atop a pile of scrap metal, towering like a throne of iron forgotten by time. In his hands, he held two small statues—Gavrilo and Nate, now nothing more than silent artifacts... yet holding powers even the boy himself didn't understand.
He was the one who stole them from Arion's pocket—not out of malice, but from a survival instinct. He had no idea that what he held was a gift of light, an ancient power capable of subduing Paragon... if it fell into the wrong hands.
That ignorance made him reckless. He slipped the two statues into a worn leather bag slung across his back, then climbed down from his throne—moving deeper into the heart of the metal dumping ground. Every step took him past rusted heavy machinery that rumbled low, ready to crush and melt anything thrown into their gaping maws.
Thin smoke from molten metal filled the air, creating a hot and toxic fog. In the distance, at the end of the alley of poverty, stood a house—if it could be called that. Its walls patched with scraps: pieces of metal, old license plates, even shards of car doors. A house wrapped in scars, standing with hope nearly drained.
The teenager pushed open the door that was nearly off its hinges. Inside, three small children greeted him—two boys, one girl. Their eyes were red from dust and fear. Their bodies trembled, hiding behind makeshift furniture that was barely standing.
"Brother…" said one of the boys in a soft voice, full of both hope and worry.
The younger girl stepped forward, her eyes carrying the weight of the world.
"They came again... the security officers. They asked for this month's rent... and last month's. They said if we don't pay, they'll kick us out."
The teenager didn't answer right away. He sighed, tossed the leather bag onto the floor, then approached them and gently ruffled his sister's hair.
"Don't be afraid," he said, his voice deep and calm—like someone who had long borne too much.
"I'll take care of everything. You just have to hold on. That's all."
But behind those words, unrest began to stir. Something inside that leather bag... felt warm. A slow but real pulse. He didn't know what yet... but tonight, the balance of the world would begin to crack—because two spirits of light were now in hands that were never meant to hold them.
Suddenly, from outside the house, a woman's scream rang out—filled with pain and terror. Not a normal scream... but the cry of someone being dragged to hell in broad daylight.
Eizo immediately stood, the leather bag with Gavrilo and Nate still lying in the corner. He grabbed his siblings' hands and ran out of the house, breaking through the hot fog of scrap metal and the smell of burning steel.
What they saw outside was more than just injustice—it was torture.
An old, frail woman was being beaten by three men in black uniforms. Helmets covered their faces, but their actions were far from anything "security" should be. They weren't protectors—they were executioners without a gavel of justice. Kicks and punches rained down on the woman's body, accompanied by insults sharper than steel blades.
And then suddenly...
Thud!
Eizo's fist struck the head of one of them—despite the steel helmet, the man staggered and collapsed onto a pile of old cans. The clatter echoed long and loud.
"Auntie! Are you okay?" Eizo asked quickly while helping the woman up. His hands trembled, not from fear... but from fury.
The other guards scoffed in anger.
"Oi, Eizo. Trying to be a hero again, huh?"
"Still healing from last time. Want us to give you more?" said one as he helped his friend stand.
Eizo didn't reply. He just stood there, face tense, jaw clenched. But his eyes... burned with a rage left over from countless days before.
"Why are you..." his voice rumbled, deep and shaking, "...why are security officers like you hurting the weak? Isn't it your job to protect them?"
For a few seconds, silence. As if the world itself was waiting for an answer.
Then they laughed. A harsh, mocking laugh... far too real.
"You're too young to understand, Eizo."
"We're not protectors."
"We're debt enforcers."
"Those who can't pay... get destroyed. That's the law in trash heaps like this."
Their laughter rang like death bells. The world they lived in wasn't a fair one—it didn't care about justice. And they knew, Eizo knew, everyone knew... but no one dared to speak up.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, something was awakening. Inside that leather bag, two tiny lights began to pulse slowly. Warm... like the first breath after a long sleep. Their time had not yet come—but the power already began to respond to an unspoken call.
And as the sky above the dumping ground slowly became covered by dark clouds, the night wind began to whisper:
"Thankfully, the mayor has prepared something special for people like you…" said one of the guards with a sly smile behind his helmet—like poison sweet on the tongue but deadly in the blood.
From behind the shadows of rusted metal, hanging like the jaws of steel beasts, came a growl... wet, heavy, and dragging. The ground trembled softly.
Its silhouette appeared first—tall, hunched, and black as a broken night. Then the full figure emerged from behind the metal heap.
Abyss Monster.
A creature from the cracks of a world that should never have been opened. Its skin was slick and cracked, like a fusion of flesh and charred coal. From its half-open maw, thick saliva dripped like living poison—and each drop scorched the earth it touched.
The children behind Eizo immediately fell back, collapsing to the ground, their bodies shaking. The old woman sobbed and clutched herself. They all knew—this was no longer about rent or debt.
This was an execution.
"Finish them," the officer commanded, calm and cold, like giving an order to a pet dog.