The echo of the words — WELCOME TO THE FIRST KINGDOM — clung to the walls like mold.
Division 4 stood frozen. Denji's hand twitched toward Pochita's cord, but even he hesitated. The kneeling crowd didn't lunge or scream. They bowed, foreheads pressed to damp tile, waiting.
Then a ripple of motion stirred them — not chaos, but order. As one, they shifted, parting down the center of the station like a tide being pulled back to reveal the shore.
At the end of the path sat Suguru Geto.
He wasn't hiding. He wasn't posturing. He simply sat on the cracked stone steps of a ruined platform, robes dark, hair loose over his shoulders. A staff leaned at his side. Around him, curses writhed in silence, their shapes restrained, as if obeying some inaudible hymn.
Geto's eyes flicked lazily over Division 4. Not a greeting. A measurement.
"You've come far," he said, voice echoing smooth and low through the chamber. "Monkeys usually scurry back into their holes before this point."
Aki's grip tightened on his sword. "You're the one hollowing people out?"
Geto's lips twitched. "Hollowing? No. Look closer."
One of the kneeling cultists raised their head, spiral scars carved raw into their cheeks. The man's eyes were clear, almost serene. He didn't look bound. He looked… grateful.
"They came here themselves," Geto continued. "Because monkeys cannot carry fear alone. They crave someone to take it, to shape it, to feed on it for them. Gods, sorcerers, devils—it doesn't matter the vessel. They kneel all the same."
Power snorted, hammer slung over her shoulder. "FOOLS! TO GROVEL BEFORE SUCH A WEAKLING! YOUR TRUE QUEEN STANDS—"
"Shut it," Aki hissed, but Geto chuckled.
"I once believed differently," he said, ignoring her. "I thought monkeys deserved protection. That their weakness was worth the blood of those strong enough to guard them." His gaze dipped, just faintly, and for a heartbeat there was an old shadow in his eyes — girls brushing his hair, a school hallway, a smile already gone.
"But I learned. They never change. They fear. They cling. They break. And now—" His tone hardened, final. "I break them first. I give their fear a throne. That is my kingdom."
The cultists struck their foreheads to the ground in unison. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Denji's skin crawled. He whispered, "Uh… guys? I think this dude's like, evil pope level."
Chains stirred in the dark behind Geto, rattling faintly, like an army waiting on his breath.
And still, he smiled as though it were all inevitable.