The scene begins inside the black ship of the blond Shinigami head captain. "Arriving at the destination in 15 minutes." The ship's AI says as the Shinigami captain stands up and goes to inspect a nearby metal box containing 3 world rings. At the same time, the crow with the purple scarf continues to observe several videos of Aria and Joons' daily activities. "Master Bhaal, I still don't understand why you are giving Aria 3 world rings, each containing 100 life fruits, 100 muya crystals, and 100 Blood River Crystals; should one life fruit be enough to heal any damage she may have sustained, she is a child after all." The blond Shinigami head captain says to the purple-scarved crow.
The atmosphere on the bridge instantly turned frigid, the air thickening with a suffocating, divine pressure. The purple-scarved crow, the direct, terrifying manifestation of Bhaal's will, slowly turned its head.
"Verza,..... Verza....., Verza..." The name echoed like a rhythmic death knell inside the Shinigami Captain's mind. The purple-scarved crow didn't just speak; its voice was a vibration of pure, divine malice that seemed to peel back the layers of Verza's consciousness.
The sheer weight of that gaze was a physical blow. Verza, the once-proud Head Captain, felt his legs buckle as he crashed to his knees, the cold metal floor of the bridge echoing under the impact.
"I don't recall requesting your counsel," the Crow continued, its tone dripping with a lethal, quiet malice. "Your duty is to follow my mandates to the letter—nothing more. Why do you think I pierced you, Rjali, Ashante, and Karadun with those Priceless Golden Needles? I did not hollow you out into Ebon Soul Slaves so you could offer 'insights.' You are tools, biological shells meant to serve my direct disciple once I am dead."
The Crow's form seemed to expand, shadows coiling around it like oily smoke. "Do you honestly believe a God of my standing values the opinion of a tethered stellar level slave like you? You exist only to ensure my disciple's foundation is unbreakable."
Before Verza could gasp for air, the Crow unleashed a devastating Soul Illusion. In an instant, the black bridge vanished. Verza found himself standing in the burning ruins of Eden Prime, his lost home world. The air tasted of ozone and ash. High-tech railguns thundered in the distance, and the sky was choked with the streaks of descending intercontinental missiles.
At the center of the devastation stood Bhaal. He was encased in his Advanced Bio-Mechanical Suit, a terrifying silhouette of shifting gold and pulsing red runes. Verza watched in frozen horror as the armies of Eden Prime, the finest warriors of our Type 1 Civilization, unleashed everything they had.
Tanks fired experimental plasma shells; nuclear warheads blossomed into miniature suns directly on top of the god. The shockwaves leveled mountain ranges. But as the fire cleared, Bhaal continued his walk. The "wounds" from nuclear fire sealing and regenerating in a fraction of a second, as if the combined might of a world were nothing more than a mild summer breeze.
Bhaal didn't even raise a hand to defend himself. He walked through the armadas, and where he stepped, reality itself seemed to tear. One by one, the soldiers of Eden Prime were subdued and slaughtered using his black blade called Kuruyami, their screams silenced by a being that couldn't be killed, couldn't be slowed, and couldn't be bargained with.
The illusion rippled, shifting from the charred ruins of the city to the hallowed, ivory halls of the Royal Palace of Eden Prime. Towering statues of white lion humanoids stood as silent sentinels, their carved eyes once symbols of pride now reflecting the orange glow of a world in its final death throes.
In the center of the grand hall, Verza saw his younger self, the youngest prince of the White Lion Clan, trembling before his parents.
"Verza, listen to me!" His mother's voice was a frantic melody of grief, her royal white dress matted with soot. "Take the Prothean ship, the Dark Nebula. You must escape to the farthest star system. Bhaal lied to us; he is no envoy of the Virtual Universe Company. He is a butcher who has already erased 99% of our race. You are the last royal scion; your brothers and sisters were slaughtered in the first wave. You must be strong. Survive, not just for us, but for the memory of Eden Prime. Please... survive, my son."
"Mom, I can't run!" the young Verza screamed, his claws digging into the marble floor as he refused to move. "Let me fight! That bastard killed our people, our world... and he didn't even tell us why!"
Before he could argue further. His father, in his lion humanoid form, looked down at him with eyes full of a terrible, crushing love. With a swift strike to a pressure point, the King knocked Verza unconscious. He carried the boy to the Dark Nebula and secured him in one of the chairs within the command deck, his hands trembling as he initiated the launch sequence for a distant, uncharted galaxy.
"T-Minus 5 Minutes to Launch," the ship's cold, automated voice announced.
Suddenly, the palace doors were vaporized in a deafening blast of purple lightning energy. Bhaal stepped through the smoke, his advanced black suit gleaming with a sickening, polished radiance. "Forgive me," Bhaal drawled, his voice a casual intrusion into their tragedy. "Did I interrupt something? Such touching devotion. I must admit, I'm impressed you still have the spirit to protect the runt after I spent the morning ending your other three children."
"BASTARD! I swear you will pay!" The Queen shrieked, snatching a fallen ceremonial blade and lunging with the desperation of a wounded lioness. Bhaal didn't even raise his hand. He simply flicked his gaze toward her. A surge of telekinetic force slammed into the Queen, and the sickening sound of snapping bone echoed through the hall as both of her hands were crushed into mangled shapes.
"How dare you harm my wife!" the King roared, his aura exploding with the last of his royal power. "I will drag you to hell with me!" the humanoid white lion king said as Bhaal's figure suddenly blurred and appeared right in front of him. To the King, it was as if time itself had skipped. Before he could even finish his sentence, Bhaal's fist was buried deep in his stomach, erupting through his back in a spray of gore. The King gasped, blood foaming at his lips, but he did not let go. Using the final, agonizing spark of his life force, he wrapped his massive arms around Bhaal's body, pinning the god in place.
"GO, VERZA! LIVE!" the King bellowed as the Dark Nebula roared to life, its engines tearing a hole into the sky and launching the last member of the White Lion Race into the cold sanctuary of space.
"Do you truly believe your meager strength can hold me?" Bhaal's voice was a chilling whisper, unmoved by their efforts, which had started to become annoying. "Queen Luna... may we find one another in our next life," King Varin said as he gasped, his grip tightening like iron around Bhaal's body."And I to you, King Varin. May the gods have mercy on our souls," Luna replied, her voice steady even as she issued a voice command to the palace AI and triggered the palace's final defense: a high-yield thermal core overload.
A blinding explosion swallowed the palace, the shockwave vaporizing the palace and the surrounding cities in a single, roaring explosion that caused a huge mushroom explosion to be formed, such that it could be seen from space. Bhaal's physical form was torn into atomic dust, scattered by the fury of the blast. Yet, even as the smoke cleared, Bhaal's atoms began to vibrate with a malevolent, crimson light, knitting themselves back together with unnatural speed since he was an immortal.
To kill an immortal, one needed to either use Soul Destruction, which involves eradicating all the Soul Imprints within an Immortal's body. While this process does not deplete their Divine Power, the destruction of nearly all Soul Imprints eventually causes the body to die naturally over time, akin to being poisoned. To accomplish this, there must be a significant gap in strength between the attacker and the target, and the attacker must be highly skilled in soul attack techniques. Typically, only Spirit Masters possess the capability to perform such an attack. Alternatively, instead of killing the opponent, the user can enslave them by transforming them into a loyal Soul Slave, a fate even worse than death. Or two Energy Annihilation, which is accomplished by relentlessly eradicating the opponent's body and Divine Power. It involves the complete consumption of energy, gradually dissolving the opponent's immortal strength into nothingness. When this is done, an immortal is annihilated, leaving no trace of energy behind. Once this happens, natural death becomes impossible; they simply vanish without a trace.
Thanks to Bhaal being an immortal who was simply hiding his power using a powerful secret technique from the celestial god country, within only a few seconds, his body and armor returned to normal. After his body had recovered, He looked towards the Dark Nebula, and with a snap of her finger, his body was teleported inside the command deck of the Dark Nebula.
Meanwhile, the Dark Nebula had breached the atmosphere, its engines screaming as it prepared to jump to light speed. Inside the cockpit, a sixteen-year-old Verza groaned, blinking away the darkness as he regained consciousness. He looked toward the command seat, expecting to see a navigation droid, only to see Bhaal, who had just deactivated the ship's thruster, leaving the ship floating in orbit.
The god sat perfectly composed in the captain's chair, his reconstructed black suit gleaming under the cockpit's dim blue lights.
"Finally awake," Bhaal said, gesturing lazily toward the viewscreen where the burning remains of Eden Prime hung in the void. "Take a good look at your world, little cub. Isn't the destruction beautiful from this height?" Verza roared, lunging at the god with a desperate, untrained strike. "The gods will punish you! Even if you kill me, fate will take revenge for my people!"
Bhaal caught Verza's throat with one hand, lifting him effortlessly. "You have quite the fire in you, but let me share a truth known to us Immortal Cultivators: Mortals? They live. They cry. They beg the heavens for mercy. But the heavens are deaf."
"I have watched mortals rot while clinging to hope, a pathetic, fragile thing that dies faster than they do. They believe in justice? They believe in kindness? But belief does not change the truth. Only Strength writes the truth."
"Your planet is a small price to pay for the bridge it provides," Bhaal whispered, his voice smooth as silk yet heavy as a mountain. "Eden Prime will give me the perfect credentials to infiltrate the human territory of the original universe and expand my influence within this caged world. When I stand before the Virtual Universe Company, I won't be a god from the great wheel cosmology; I will be the tragic, last-surviving noble of the 'Bhaalspawn' race, a civilization heartlessly purged by the rogue automatons that infest your star system."
Bhaal leaned back, a cold, mocking smile touching his lips. "I've already collected thousands of shattered automatons from my previous conquests. I will litter the ruins of your home with them, decoys to feed the investigators of the Virtual Universe company. My story will be airtight, written in the blood of your kin and the scrap metal of my past victories. Take pride, at least your people's deaths will serve a greater purpose."
He stood up, looking down at the shaking sixteen-year-old prince with utter indifference. "But enough. You are a footnote in a history I am rewriting. You aren't qualified to glimpse the true architecture of my designs. You are simply raw material. At least you're not as useless as your kin. I can sense a glimpse of genetic and spiritual energy. I now understand why your parent wanted to save you at all costs. Take pride, you will be my first Ebon soul slave. In time, I will cultivate you until you are nothing more than my loyal, obedient dog."
"For now, consider this a down payment on your servitude," Bhaal sneered. He flicked his wrist, and a Priceless Golden Needle materialized in his fingers. With a blur of motion, he drove the spike directly into Verza's forehead.
Suddenly, the illusion ended; it shattered like a mirror struck by a hammer.
Verza was violently jerked back into the physical world. He collapsed onto the freezing metal deck of the black ship, his chest heaving from the sheer sensory whiplash. His body convulsed in a cold, hysterical sweat, his muscles locked in a phantom struggle. To Verza's fractured mind, he had lived through three hours of psychological torture, but in reality, only three seconds had ticked by.
"Do not bother me again. Go and make yourself presentable—we arrive in three minutes," the Purple-Scarved Crow hissed, the sound vibrating with a chilling, metallic resonance. "And remember: you are Jinryu now. Only when I die may you cast aside the Mask of Many Faces and reclaim your real name. Until then, you must never reveal your name or mission to Aria. Once I die, your primary mission will be to get rid of any nuisance or enemy that will interfere with Aria, but do it secretly, use your slaves if it's a must, but at all costs, Aria must never learn of your role in my plan. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, lord Bhaal," Verza says, his body still trembling from the echoes of his home world's extinction, as he bowed his eyes hollowed out by the trauma of the illusion. He retreated toward his private chamber to prepare.
As the heavy blast doors slid shut, the Crow's gaze shifted toward the monitors. His internal thoughts were a dark, swirling abyss of calculation.
"I knew Aria was extraordinary, but this... to think she has begun sensing the origin laws at only one year," Bhaal mused, a cold sneer forming within his mind. I must keep Verza's heart saturated in hatred. Only a heart fueled by vengeance will follow the mission parameters without deviation."
The True reason why I even chose Eden Prime from the other planets was because of the various Prothean ruins created by the now extinct race called Protheans, which were rumoured to have connections to the now dead overlord and special life form called Li Wei. My primary target during this expedition was finding info on the Celestial Prism, a legendary artifact forged by the Supreme Being, Li Wei. Its utility was unmatched according to the Prothean records; it says the artifact could grant its wielder the divine energy reserves of a God-King every 24 hrs. My strategy was flawless: retrieve the Prism, dock it within the Ebon Soul Tower, and use that infinite well of energy to mass-produce the Golden Needles, which require one to exhaust at least 10 million of his genetic energy reserves to produce just one."
"With enough needles, I would have slowly infested the high-ranking members of the Pinnacle Races of the Original Continent, which included the humans, the Zerge, the Crystal race, the Prison race, and the demons," Bhaal continued, his thoughts sharpening. "The brilliance of the Golden Needles lies in their mimicry. I can shape them into any desired artifact: a legendary blade, a protective amulet, a ring of power. Cultivators are slaves to their own greed; they would have bonded with these 'treasures' joyfully, never realizing they were driving a spike into their own souls. I would have ruled as the unseen sovereign of the Original Continent, moving the pinnacle races like pieces on a board. But then... that bastard Hu Yan Bo had to interfere."
The Crow's form flickered with a sudden, violent spark of red energy. "He shattered plans, but he didn't destroy the method. These needles are still my most strategic asset. They turn a target's ambition into their leash. The only ones immune to this subtle subversion are the automatons and beings without a soul. Everyone else? They are merely slaves waiting for a master to offer them a 'gift.'"
"Verza is the ultimate insurance policy. Unlike the other Ebon Soul Slaves, his Golden Needle is a masterpiece of tracking. It is the only one tuned to the real Aria's soul-frequency. Even if she is captured by Irenicus and vanishes into the deepest folds of space, Verza will pinpoint her location every 24 hours. No shroud, no miniature universe, no divine shield can hide her from the pulse of that needle on his sea of consciousness." The crow mentally says as Verza, now taking the Alias of Jinryu, returns to the command deck.
The Scene shifts away from the cold vacuum of space to Aria's room within Bhaal's estate. Inside the lavish quarters, Number 2 stood before a tall obsidian mirror, smoothing the creases of her official uniform, a garment of deep, arterial red, stitched with threads of soul-gold and emblazoned with the mark of the Lord of Murder.
"Hurry, my lady! Please, you must hurry!" Liza, the maid, was a whirlwind of nervous energy, her hands trembling as she adjusted the high collar of the clone's tunic. "The Shinigami Head Captain's vessel has breached the inner sanctum. By the gods, Aria, do you realize what this means? In all my years of serving this estate, the Shinigami have been nothing but terrifying whispers. Even the High Priests of the Bhaalist Cult bow their heads in reverence when their name is spoken. They are the executioners of the divine!"
"I'm putting my boots on, Liza. Breathe," Number 2 replied, her voice cool, perfectly mimicking the detached authority of the original Aria. Inside, however, she felt the oppressive weight of the atmosphere. The very air seemed to thin as the black ship descended.
She stepped out of her chambers, the heavy click of her boots echoing against the marble. Together with Liza, she navigated the winding corridors toward the heart of the estate.
As they emerged into the central palace grounds, the sheer scale of the gathering was breathtaking. Hundreds of Bhaalspawns, each accompanied by their respective mothers and retinues of servants, stood in rigid formation along the Great Procession, the long, obsidian-paved road leading to the palace's primary gates.
At the very front, standing on the elevated dais of the central entrance, stood the clone. To her left was Alianna, her face a mask of regal pride and hidden terror, and to her right, Liza stood at a respectful distance. Behind them, ranked by the purity of their lineage, stood the Crimson Bloods, the elite tier of Bhaal's children alongside their mothers and servants, all of them silent, eyes cast toward the sky as the massive shadow of the black ship finally blotted out the sun.
The heavy, suffocating silence of the courtyard was shattered by a sonic boom that vibrated in the marrow of everyone present. From the charcoal clouds above, a shadow detached itself, growing larger until the sunlight was completely eclipsed.
The ship descended with a predatory grace, a masterpiece of high-tech intimidation. It was a sleek, lethal needle of matte-black composite, its silhouette defined by sharp, aggressive geometry and serrated rear stabilizers that looked like the folded wings of a bat. Two brilliant-white thruster wakes trailed behind it like ghostly ribbons of fire, screaming as they fought gravity to bring the massive vessel to a hover.
Etched into the primary hull plating in a deep, glowing crimson was the Insignia of Bhaal, the skull surrounded by a circle of droplets marking this vessel as a direct extension of the Lord of Murder's iron will.
To the hundreds of Bhaalspawn, their mothers and servants gathered below, the ship was an object of religious awe, a chariot of the gods that represented the pinnacle of technological and divine fusion. But through the eyes of the Allspark's administrator, the view was much different.
From the sanctuary of her Allspark Z1 Fortress, the real Aria watched the scene unfold through the eyes of her duplicate, her expression one of mild boredom. Besides Aria, her subordinate observed the events taking place as Jinryu began to walk out of the ship, which continued to hover above the estate.
The Shinigami Head Captain emerged, and for a moment, the sun seemed to fail. He was a vision of lethal elegance, a man with hair of spun gold that caught the flickering light of the thrusters, and eyes the color of fresh arterial spray. He wore a red Shihakusho, the uniform of a Shinigami serving under Bhaal, but draped over it was the legendary white captain's long coat. Centered on the back was the singular, ink-brushed character (ゼロ)—Zero—the mark of the elite Squad who serve Bhaal directly.
As he moved, the heavy Bhaalist medallion around his neck swung with a rhythmic, metallic clink, a dark heartbeat against his chest. But the true terror was the silent passenger on his right elbow: a crow with a purple scarf, its eyes twin voids that seemed to peer through the onlookers' flesh and into their very memories.
The reaction was a collective, bone-deep instinct. As if an invisible hand had swept across the crowd, hundreds of Bhaalspawn's concubines and their servants crashed to their knees. The sound of knees hitting stone echoed like a volley of musket fire. They didn't just bow; they pressed their foreheads to the pavement, refusing to look upon a man who radiated the raw, unfiltered presence of a God's personal executioner.
Only the Crimson Bloods remained standing. They were the elite, the high-tier progeny of Bhaal, and though their hands shook and their faces were drained of color, their pride held them upright. They stood like jagged rocks in a retreating tide, their eyes fixed on the man who represented the pinnacle of the power they so desperately craved.
The Captain didn't walk; he glided. Each step was an insult to gravity, his boots clicking with a terrifying, systematic precision. He was not just a messenger; he was a walking calamity, and the purple-scarved crow on his arm was the eye of the storm.
As his front boot touched the empty air, the laws of physics bowed in submission. The roaring fountains in the palace gardens fell into a supernatural hush; the crystalline water thickened mid-air, its flow slowing to a viscous crawl as if the very atoms were paralyzed by his presence.
He did not use the ship's ramp. Instead, Jinryu stepped out into the very air. With every deliberate, rhythmic stride, a ripple of translucent emerald energy flared beneath his soles, solidifying the atmosphere into a grand, invisible staircase. He descended from the heavens with a terrifying grace, the air itself appearing honored to bear the weight of the Squad Zero Captain.
The pressure intensified with every inch he descended, a physical weight that made the stone tiles of the courtyard groan. When his boots finally touched the obsidian pavement, he came to a halt exactly five paces before Aria's clone. On his elbow, the purple-scarved crow remained eerily motionless, its abyssal eyes fixed on the girl with a taxidermy-like stillness that screamed of hidden malice.
"Greetings, Chosen of Bhaal," Jinryu announced. His voice was not a shout, yet it possessed the tectonic resonance of a collapsing mountain. It didn't just vibrate in the air; it echoed within the marrow of every Bhaalspawn present, a cold reminder of their father's reach. "I have traveled from the depths of the Dread Lord's domain to deliver the promised resources to his direct disciple, Aria."
While the rest of the estate members knelt and pressed their heads against the stone, their spirits crushed by the sheer weight of a Squad Zero presence, Number 2 stood like a pillar of crimson silk. She did not flinch. Her gaze was a cold, unwavering needle, bypassing the Captain entirely and locking onto the Purple-Scarved Crow.
Deep within the Allspark Z1 Fortress, the real Aria sat on her command throne, leaning forward so sharply that her silver hair fell over her glowing HUDs. Threat detection warnings strobed in violent violet hues across her vision.
The Crow tilted its head with a jerky, unnatural motion, its obsidian eyes reflecting the clone's face with a predatory, mocking curiosity."Do you like birds, my lady?" Jinryu asked, his voice a low thrum. With a smooth, practiced motion, he transferred the Crow to Number 2's gloved hand. The bird's talons felt like needles of ice pressing through the fabric.
Jinryu turned his attention to the trembling maid as he removed a metallic box from his space ring. "Liza, was it? These are the tributes Lord Bhaal has ordained. Ensure they reach the Direct Disciple's chambers without a single grain of dust misplaced."Liza stepped forward, her knees knocking as she took the heavy, runic-etched metallic box. She bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the Captain's boots. "B-by your command, Great Captain." Liza stammered.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady," Jinryu began, but his voice trailed off. He noticed the clone's fingers slowly closing, not in a caress, but a tightening knot around the Crow's purple silk scarf.
Inside the Allspark, Aria's face contorted in a sneer. "Number 2, choke that little shit. Does Bhaal honestly think I'm a fool? He's still using the same crow-clone he used to spy on Muzan Kibutsuji. If he wants to play pet, let's see how he likes being breathless."
The Crow's wings flared slightly, a silent panic radiating from its small frame. "Jinryu! Get me away from this brat immediately!" Bhaal's voice roared through the mental link, dripping with frustrated malice. "My lady! Please, be careful," Jinryu interrupted, a slight smile forming on his face as he reclaimed the bird.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she cooed, her voice tilting with a childish sweetness that felt dangerously sharp. "He's just so cute. I simply wish I had a crow of my own to... play with." Jinryu's crimson eyes lingered on her for a fraction of a second, sensing the hidden venom behind the smile. "Perhaps one day, my lady. For now, my task is complete. And I must take my leave. I hope to meet you again soon," Jinryu says as he stretches his hand to greet Number 2. "Likewise." Number 2 answered as she shook Jinny's hand.
He bowed, a sharp, military snap of the waist. Without another word, he began to ascend, his boots catching the invisible emerald ripples once more. He drifted back toward the hovering obsidian ship, entering it, and within a few moments, the engines roared, and a twin wake of brilliant white fire scorched the clouds as the vessel ascended, vanishing into the sky in a thunderous clap of displaced air.