Chapter 2: Weapon
A vast circular chamber lay deep within a fortified compound.
More than twenty men and women, ranging from their late twenties to well over sixty, sat around a polished round table. Each wore pristine white military attire trimmed in silver. Upon their chests rested the crests of the distinguished magus clans, governments, and ancient orders they represented.
Every single person in the room was a monster in their own right.
Any one of them possessed enough power to overthrow a nation alone.
The best of the best.
And yet…
The chamber was silent.
Not the silence of calm authority.
But the silence of restrained panic.
All because of one man.
One monster had been released back into the world.
"So…" a man in his late twenties said casually, leaning back in his chair. He scratched his snow-white hair as his bright blue eyes gleamed with mischief. "What exactly are we going to do now?"
"What else can we do?" another man snapped. A wolf-crested insignia gleamed over his chest. "We must mobilize every magus and every military unit. Lock down the entire country immediately!"
"That will not be happening."
The voice was old.
Ancient.
The room fell silent at once.
An elderly man entered, leaning lightly on a cane. He appeared to be in his late eighties or early nineties, yet his presence filled the room like the rising sun. His long white hair reached his mid-back, and his beard flowed nearly to his knees. His golden eyes shone with terrifying vitality.
Respect followed him like a shadow.
He took the main seat at the head of the table.
"It would be disastrous to do what you suggest, Sir Roland."
Roland clenched his fists.
"But Master Odin, we must act now while he's nowhere near full strength. Before he can disappear—"
"SILENCE."
The single word cracked like thunder.
Odin's aura flared. Golden light burst from his eyes.
Several members instinctively shrank back.
Roland immediately fell quiet.
Only the white-haired man with mischievous blue eyes remained relaxed, watching with faint amusement.
Odin continued, calmer now.
"Do you know what would happen if we did as you suggested?"
Silence.
Then the white-haired man spoke.
"Well… if news spread that the being of mass destruction who terrorized the world three hundred years ago — a figure long presumed dead — has returned…" He paused. "It would cause chaos in both magi and non-magi societies alike."
He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"Not to mention the Global Arts Academy entrance examinations begin in two weeks. Releasing such information now would destabilize everything."
"Correct," Odin nodded. "Thank you, Sir Solomon."
The room stirred uneasily.
"Yes," Odin continued. "The Global Arts Academy will soon hold its entrance examinations. We cannot afford widespread panic."
"Then what do you propose?" a woman bearing the crest of a lion asked respectfully.
"We do nothing."
Murmurs erupted.
"For now," Odin added.
"What!?"
"You cannot be serious, Grandmaster!"
Before the room could descend into chaos, Solomon lifted a hand.
"I assume you have a reason?" he asked casually. "Care to explain before you give everyone here a collective heart attack?"
Odin nodded.
"The seals placed upon Prisoner Zero weakened enough for him to escape. However, he is far from the monster he once was."
He gestured toward the doorway.
A middle-aged man in glasses and a lab coat entered and activated a holographic projection above the table.
Prisoner Zero's image appeared, accompanied by streams of calculations and energy readings.
"Based on our continuous assessments during his imprisonment," the scientist began, "Prisoner Zero is currently operating at approximately thirteen percent of his original ancient energy output."
Shock rippled through the chamber.
"At thirteen percent," the scientist continued, "he still ranks at approximately Rank Five."
Silence fell heavily.
"You're telling us," one of the members said slowly, "that even at thirteen percent… he remains at the level of a mid-class magus?"
"Yes," the scientist confirmed. "He retains enough destructive capability to eliminate a city block. However—" he adjusted his glasses, "—compared to those seated here, he is not yet a direct threat."
"And how long until he regains full strength?" another asked.
"Approximately seven years, assuming no external acceleration factors."
Odin folded his hands.
"As I said, there is a reason for my patience."
He paused.
"I have prepared a weapon."
The word shifted the atmosphere.
"A weapon?" Solomon asked, intrigued.
"Yes."
Odin's golden eyes gleamed faintly.
"You all will know her when the time is right. For now, I would prefer to keep her identity a secret."
The room grew attentive at the mention of a "her."
"I have been training her specifically for this possibility. She will be attending the Global Arts Academy entrance examinations."
"And her rank?" someone asked.
"Rank Four."
Several brows furrowed.
"And you believe a Rank Four can eliminate Prisoner Zero?" one member asked skeptically.
"I believe she can challenge him at his current Rank Five strength, since she is technically above him in power."
Odin's faint smile deepened.
"She possesses the Grimoire Creatio — the Ancient Art of Creation."
The entire room inhaled sharply.
"Prisoner Zero wields Interitus — the Ancient Art of Destruction."
Shock rippled across every face.
Creation.
And Destruction.
Opposing forces.
Even Solomon's playful expression shifted into genuine interest.
"This would make three unique Ancient Arts in existence…" someone murmured.
"Yes," Odin confirmed. "And there is one more factor that ensures she can at least give him difficulty."
He leaned back slightly.
"But that is a discussion for another time."
Silence lingered.
Then Odin rose.
"For now, mobilize your covert forces. Hunt him quietly. In the shadows," he said. "Though be aware that a monster of his caliber cannot be foiled by numbers alone."
He took a step toward the exit — then paused.
"There is… one additional concern."
The room stiffened.
"The seals placed upon Prisoner Zero were designed to last at least a millennium."
A murmur spread across the chamber.
"They should not have degraded this quickly."
The scientist frowned.
"Grandmaster… are you suggesting external interference?"
Odin's golden eyes flickered — unreadable.
"I am suggesting," he said calmly, "that something accelerated the weakening."
A chill filled the air.
"Whether that 'something' is an ally, an enemy… or a consequence of ancient forces we do not yet understand…"
He allowed the words to settle.
"…remains to be seen."
No one spoke.
Solomon's sharp blue eyes studied Odin carefully.
But Odin had already turned away.
"Be vigilant," he said.
Then he exited the chamber.
His right-hand man — whose presence few had even noticed — followed silently behind him.
The doors shut.
And for the first time that night…
Doubt entered the room.