---
Fernando's breath was shallow, his eyes locked on the chaos below. The torches and rivers of lava painted the arena in blood-red hues, as if the mountain itself had turned into Hell's coliseum. Sweat rolled down his forehead despite the cool volcanic winds.
He muttered under his breath, eyes darting from one nightmare to the next.
"What big, brutal names… names I once only saw on the wanted posters at the Magic Council headquarters…"
His voice was grim, almost in disbelief.
His gaze locked on a greedy gambler slamming his fist onto a mountain of coins, a bottle of alcohol dangling in his other hand. The man laughed wildly, his eyes never leaving the stage where artifacts gleamed under torchlight.
Fernando's voice was low, tense.
"It's John… the Treasure Hunter. Infamous collector of rare artifacts and stolen relics. Danger Level A."
Yaman's eyes narrowed. His knuckles whitened against the rock. "Treasure? He's gambling lives for treasure?"
Before Fernando could respond, the gambler's opponent slammed her hand down, snarling. Her twisted face gleamed with hunger as she stared up at the women displayed on the prize platform.
Fernando's voice was almost a whisper, his lips curling with disgust.
"Catherine. The Butcher of Roses… she's known for beheading beautiful women and keeping their hair as trophies. Danger Level A."
Catherine licked her lips and jeered, "What lovely roses on display tonight… ripe for picking. Which flower shall I pluck first?" Her cackling laugh echoed through the square.
Yaman's body jolted with fury, but Fernando's hand pressed him back into the shadows.
Then, a crack of fire. A girl with wild, golden eyes swung a flaming whip, laughing hysterically as she lashed a group of chained slaves. The victims shrieked, their skin blistering under the strike.
Fernando's jaw tightened.
"Maria the Tamer… she can break the will of anyone. Danger Level B."
Yaman's eyes burned. "Father… she's just a child herself. Look at her laugh…"
But before he could finish, a thunderous explosion tore through the square. Flames engulfed a dozen dark mages, their bodies scattering in bloody pieces as laughter followed. A young man with wild hair stood in the smoke, holding volatile lacrima in his hands, cackling like a beast.
Fernando's eyes widened, his hands trembling slightly.
"Jack the Terrorist… murderer of towns, slaughterer of thousands… Danger Level A. He destroys for amusement. And tonight, he's here too…"
The chaos seemed endless. Yet, amidst the drunken noise, Fernando's eyes caught three men seated like kings near the execution podium. Their chairs resembled thrones, their posture arrogant, commanding.
He swallowed hard. His voice cracked when he spoke.
"The Three Disasters…"
His eyes went to the first. A muscular figure with black hair, dark skin, and a long burn scar over his eye. His presence radiated flames even at rest. His jaw worked slowly as though grinding invisible bones.
"The Fire Disaster… Kur. His flames consumed half an army during the last war. Danger Level S."
Then, Fernando's gaze shifted. A man with slick green hair, pale skin that seemed ill, and a grotesque smile. A gas mask lay beside him on the table, as if waiting for playtime.
Fernando's face paled, his hand trembling.
"The Poison Disaster… Plague. One breath of his toxins, and a city falls in hours. Danger Level S."
Lastly, his eyes fell upon the final throne. A pale man with sharp gray hair ripped into meat with animalistic hunger, blood dripping down his chin. Around him, the air whipped violently, a storm always circling him.
"The Hurricane Disaster… Einar… Danger Level S."
Fernando's voice faltered. "All… all these names… here, together."
Yaman glanced at his father. His chest tightened seeing sweat pour down Fernando's face—his strong, unshakable father, afraid.
"Father…" Yaman whispered. "Are you saying we can't fight them?"
Fernando clenched his fists, his eyes hard as steel despite the tremor in his voice.
"We cannot face them head-on. If we do, we're dead before we draw breath. We must think, Yaman. We must… plan."
But before another word could be spoken, the square erupted into a new frenzy.
The horned priest on the execution platform raised his arms high, his voice booming with madness:
"And now, sons of darkness, the noble sacrifice begins! Let us welcome the one chosen by Lord Zeref himself… the blade of Cerberus… Commander Zeldaris!"
The chanting shook the volcanic slope.
"Zeldaris! Zeldaris! Zeldaris!"
From the shadows, a figure emerged—smiling, tall, his aura radiating malice that bent the torches toward him. Even the volcano seemed to groan in his presence. His eyes glowed like dying embers.
Fernando's breath hitched, his heart pounding. Sweat streamed down his face.
"Zeldaris… Commander of Cerberus…"
His voice dropped to a whisper, almost afraid the dark lord might hear even from afar.
"Danger Level… S+."
Yaman's breath grew sharp, his eyes fixed on the execution platform. The sand in the hourglass was running out.
And hell was about to
---
The chanting grew louder, a thunder of voices echoing off the volcano walls.
"Zeldaris! Zeldaris! Zeldaris!"
From the shadows behind the execution platform, he appeared.
A tall figure, draped in a black cloak lined with crimson threads, his smile sharp and unsettling, like a wolf playing with its food. His eyes glowed faintly red, and every step he took seemed to make the torches flicker lower, as if fire itself feared him.
The crowd went insane. Bottles smashed, chains rattled, blood was spilled in celebration. The name "Zeldaris" rolled like a wave over the thousands gathered in the square.
Fernando's breath caught in his throat. He whispered, almost choking:
"That smile… gods help us… that's Zeldaris, Master of the Cerberus Guild."
Yaman didn't flinch. His fists were trembling, but his eyes were locked on the figure walking toward the butcher's family.
Zeldaris raised a hand, and the square fell silent. Even the drunken howling stopped, as if every soul had been snapped into obedience.
Then he spoke. His voice was smooth, mocking, filled with a terrible charm.
"Brothers, sisters… dogs of Hell!"
The crowd erupted with laughter and cheers.
Zeldaris spread his arms, gesturing to the crucified bodies around the square, the slaves crawling in chains, the gamblers stabbing dice into the tables.
"Look at this! Look at the kingdom we've built here on Vulcanus. The weak call it chaos. I call it freedom. The strong drink, gamble, and take what they want. The weak… bleed, scream, and die. As it should be."
The crowd roared, stomping their feet against the volcanic rock, chanting his name again.
Zeldaris turned toward the execution platform, where the butcher's family trembled in their bonds. He smiled wider, his teeth gleaming.
"And tonight… tonight, Lord Zeref smiles upon us! For these three pathetic worms dared to defy the will of Cerberus. They thought themselves free. They thought themselves safe."
He crouched low, bringing his face level with the little girl. His voice dropped, twisted and sweet.
"But tell me, little one… does your god hear your prayers? Can your tears buy you mercy?"
The child sobbed and turned her face into her mother's shoulder. The crowd laughed cruelly.
Zeldaris straightened, chuckling.
"No… mercy is for fools. Tonight, you die so all Vulcanus remembers—resistance is death. Faith in Zeref is the only path. Your blood will be our wine, your screams our music, your corpses our trophies."
The dark mages howled, banging cups and blades against the ground. A few even mocked the butcher's family by pretending to pray, laughing hysterically.
Then Zeldaris raised his hand, and the massive lacrima above the stage pulsed brightly.
"Let them all see! Every man, woman, and child on this cursed island will watch as Cerberus delivers judgment! And when they sleep tonight, they will dream not of hope… but of me."
The crowd erupted once more:
"Zeldaris! Zeldaris! Zeldaris!"
Up on the slope, Yaman's face was pale, but his rage burned like wildfire. His fingernails dug into the stone until blood welled under them. He whispered hoarsely:
"Father… if we wait any longer, she'll die in front of all of us. I'll kill him. I swear I'll kill him with my own hands."
Fernando's jaw clenched, his voice trembling as he forced calm into his tone.
"Listen to me, Yaman. Zeldaris is stronger than anyone you've faced. He isn't just a dark mage—he's a monster who commands monsters. If we move recklessly, we'll join those crucified."
But Yaman's eyes didn't leave the platform. His anger was boiling over, a storm waiting to break.
And below them, Zeldaris raised the executioner's blade high, holding it above the butcher's bowed head.
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