CHAPTER 18: THE CENTURY YEAR-LIKE FIGHT, THE DEVIL AGAINST THE PRINCE
***
"Find another entrance! Now!"
The command ripped through the stale air of the hallway, a jagged roar from a lieutenant serving under General Koby.
Behind him, boots hammered against the marble floors as squads of soldiers fanned out across the grand corridor.
The opulence of the hotel had been stained crimson; the floor was a mosaic of shattered glass and the bodies of those who had failed to defend the establishment against the sheer, unbridled ruthlessness of a newly discovered nightmare.
"Sir! Over here!" a soldier shouted, dropping to one knee beside a crumpled figure. "It's Commander George. He's unconscious—severe lacerations to the chest. We need a medical detachment immediately!"
The soldier pressed a gloved hand against George's chest, trying to stem the rhythmic pulse of blood that bubbled from his mouth and soaked through his tactical vest.
Another soldier didn't wait for the order, spinning on his heel and sprinting back toward the extraction point to summon the medics.
General Koby approached the scene with heavy, deliberate strides.
He looked down at his old friend's mangled form, noting the precision of the stabs.
It was a miracle the man's heart was still beating, a testament to the grueling, decades-long training they had endured together since they were men of youth.
"General, what are your orders?" a soldier asked, stepping into Koby's peripheral vision.
The man's voice wavered slightly. "The former Mafia Queen, Yuri Calypso... her body is missing. We haven't confirmed a kill. If she's alive and mobile, she's a ghost in this building."
Koby did not answer immediately.
He stood like a monument of cold iron, his chilling gaze fixed on George's pale face before slowly lifting to the massive, reinforced gates that blocked the path to the Prom Tower.
These were Yuri's designs—masterpieces of security engineering that mocked even the most skilled locksmiths in the military.
Without her, the mission was a dead end.
"Search for Yuri Calypso," Koby finally commanded, his voice a low vibration of authority. "Dead or alive, I want her found. We must evacuate the remaining students and hold them for interrogation later. For now, our priority is the Alter Being. It's on a rampage, and it's the only thing in this building more dangerous than she is."
The soldiers snapped a unified salute and vanished into the shadows of the side halls, leaving Koby alone in the silence of the dead.
***
A few yards away, behind the seamless facade of a decorative wall, a hidden door led into a lightless sanctuary.
Inside, the air was thick with the copper scent of blood.
"With all due respect, you sure know how to prepare, don't you? Miss Yuri..."
It was Wyne, and she spoke in a hushed whisper, her eyes fixed on the woman leaning against the far wall.
Yuri Calypso, the feared founder, was a mess of torn silk and dark stains, but her eyes—sharp and predatory—remained focused.
Despite the agony radiating from her side, a jagged, defiant grin played on her lips.
Wyne's hands trembled.
The world outside had dissolved into chaos in a matter of minutes.
First, the roar of explosions that shook the foundation, then the sight of the butchery in the halls.
She had seen her own mother's body before this, a memory that still felt like a cold blade in her gut, but the brutality she had just witnessed was something else entirely.
It was systematic.
"Thanks for coming," Yuri groaned, her voice cracking as she reached into the collar of her dress. "I thought you'd have... left with your father by now."
With a grimace of pure pain, Yuri pulled a mangled metal plate from beneath her bodice.
It was dented deeply, stained with a fresh coat of her own blood where a blade had nearly found its home.
Wyne stared at the piece of armor, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if to hold herself together.
"Do you always carry those things to protect yourself?" Wyne asked, her voice small.
"Most of the time," Yuri panted, her breathing shallow and labored. "I take risks. Big ones. If I want to keep living, I have to be smarter than the steel trying to kill me."
She looked up at Wyne, and for a fleeting second, the terrifying Mafia Queen vanished, replaced by a woman with a mischievous, almost manic spark in her eyes.
She held the bloody, dented plate out toward Wyne.
"Wanna smell it? It's a pure feminine scent... with just a hint of high-grade hemoglobin!"
Wyne recoiled, a look of pure disgust crossing her face. "Who would smell that thing? Yuck! Keep your blood to yourself."
Yuri chuckled, a sound that quickly turned into a pained wheeze.
She let the plate clatter to the floor and leaned her head back against the stone.
"But once again... thank you for hiding me."
The sincerity in Yuri's voice caught Wyne off guard.
The air in the room seemed to shift, the weight of the gratitude pressing down on the girl.
"I made a vow with that damned Koby years ago," Yuri continued, her gaze darkening. "We agreed that if one of us caught the other with their guard down, we were free to take whatever advantage we saw fit. If the roles were reversed, I'd have ended his life without a second thought. But the thought of him taking the key... I wouldn't want a man like him to have that kind of leverage over me."
Wyne felt a surge of unexpected honor.
She had saved a legend.
She had been on her way to find Trizha, hoping for a simple reunion, before the world turned into a slaughterhouse.
But the mention of reunions triggered a cold realization.
Wyne knelt beside Yuri, her curiosity finally outweighing her fear. "Hey, miss... do you know where Trizha is? My friend? She was supposed to be nearby."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Yuri stared at Wyne for several long seconds, her expression unreadable, before she simply blinked.
"How should I know?"
Wyne froze.
The logic hit her a second too late, flushing her cheeks with embarrassment.
Of course.
Yuri had been fighting for her life; she wasn't a GPS for wayward teenagers.
"Oh yeah," Wyne thought, mentally kicking herself. "How would she know? I really am as slow as they say."
Suddenly, a raw, agonized scream pierced through the hidden door.
Wyne scrambled to the small, concealed viewing slit in the door.
Outside, the scene was a nightmare.
Two soldiers had forced a figure to their knees—Yuri's personal assistant, Ramoss.
General Koby stood over them, his shadow stretching long and menacing across the floor.
The assistant was battered, their clothes torn and soaked in blood, yet they glared up at the General with a defiant, broken snarl.
"Haha... long time no see, Koby Frantzes..."
The assistant struggled to pull air into their lungs, their body trembling from the trauma of the assault, yet they refused to bow their head.
"How long has it been since I last tried to kill you for traumatizing the boss? That's right... ten years—"
"Ten years ago," Koby interrupted, his voice like grinding stones, "Kenzo Calypso committed a grave and irredeemable crime. A crime that ended with his death at the hands of his own daughter."
"Liar! You absolute bastard!" the assistant shrieked, coughing up a spray of red. "You tricked her! You manipulated Yuri into killing her own father–"
CHA-KACK!
The metallic clack-slide of a handgun being chambered echoed through the hallway.
Wyne went pale, her breath hitching in her throat.
She watched through the slit, paralyzed, as Koby leveled the barrel of his sidearm at the person who had been the backbone of the hotel's operations.
She pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.
"And ten years ago," Koby said, his eyes devoid of any human warmth, "you involved yourself in a vow that did not concern you. As my enemy, you still carry the stench of the Calypso name. Speak your last words, Caretaker. Or should I call you by your true title?"
Koby leaned in closer, the muzzle of the gun inches from the assistant's forehead.
"The Chronologically Immortal Caretaker of the Calypso bloodline... Ramoss."
Wyne's eyes nearly bulged out of her head.
Immortal?
The word felt heavy, impossible.
But the gravity of the moment eclipsed the mystery.
The gun was cocked.
Ramoss looked death in the eye with a terrifying mixture of exhaustion and peace.
Koby's finger tightened on the trigger, but he paused.
"But before you go," Koby whispered, "answer me one thing. Where is Yuri?"
Inside the room, Yuri had been listening to every word.
When her name left Koby's lips, she let out a jagged, hateful scoff.
"He's still looking for me," she hissed.
Driven by a sudden, violent impulse to save the only family she had left, Yuri lunged for the door handle.
She didn't care about the wounds or the risk; she was going to tear Koby's eyes out.
"Don't!" Wyne muffled a scream, throwing her entire weight against Yuri, tackling the injured woman back into the shadows.
Yuri fought like a caged animal, her eyes wild with rage and desperation.
She thrashed against Wyne's grip, her mouth opening to let out a piercing cry.
"Don't kill him!!!"
The scream died against the soundproof padding of the walls.
To the world outside, there was only silence.
To the woman inside, that silence was the sound of a death sentence she was powerless to stop.