Nine-year-old Udo ran through the dark forest, the moonlight barely cutting through the thick canopy. His feet crushed fallen leaves, his breath came in ragged gasps, the only sounds in the eerie silence.
A woman's body flew through the air and slammed into a tree with a sickening thud. Udo skidded to a stop and ran to her side.
"U-Udo," she gasped, her breath shallow. "Run... I'm out of energy."
"But... you'll die," he choked, fear gripping him.
She tried to smile despite the pain. "Don't worry about me... Run. Find a new life. Make friends, a family. Live like a child should... And whatever you do, never use your Fiend vibration. It hurts… It manipulates… It steals… It tortures. Udo, please… run."
Tears filled his eyes. He wanted to protest, but the desperation in her voice silenced him. "But-"
"Go!" she cried, tears streaking her face. "For me..."
And so, he ran. Her screams tore through the night as he fled, his own tears blurring the path ahead.
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Udo hung from a metal pole, wrists bound in cold iron cuffs. His body was battered, bruised, and raw from hours of punishment. Two Dove officers stood before him, their grips firm on the whips in their hands, eyes alight with cruel satisfaction.
"Ready to start talking yet?" One sneered, snapping the whip against Udo's skin with a sharp crack.
Udo clenched his jaw, his breath shaky but silent.
"Where the fuck are the other members of The Herd, you demon?" the second officer growled, lashing him again.
"Speak up, you piece of shit!" The first officer struck harder.
After hours of this, Officer #2 finally sagged to the floor, exhausted. "For fuck's sake, it's been six hours and he hasn't said a word… Are you sure this is the kid?"
Officer #1 exhaled sharply, nodding. "Udo Iche. Last of the Iche clan. Fiend host.
This is the guy."
Groaning, Officer #2 dragged himself back to his feet. "Well, he better start talking, 'cause I'm sick of this shit. You think we can amp up the torture? He's a Fiend host—doubt a simple whip is doing much."
Officer #1's voice was firm. "No. We stick to the first order. Until we hear otherwise, we whip him into submission."
With another brutal swing, the whip cut into Udo's flesh.
The heavy chamber doors swung open.
Eight officers snapped into formation, their boots clicking in perfect unison as they lined the entrance, forming a guard of honor. The two men who entered carried an undeniable weight, their presence instantly shifting the air in the chamber.
"Captain Gozen! Sir Holland!" Officer #1's voice rang out, sharp with deference. Both officers dropped to one knee, heads bowed. "Welcome."
Toshiko Gozen stepped forward first, a quiet storm of intensity. At 27, his long, disheveled hair framed piercing eyes that held secrets untold. His voice, calm as still water, cut through the tension. "How far along are we?"
Officer #2 hesitated before answering. "Not good, Captain. He hasn't said a word. It's like the whip does nothing to him."
Gozen's gaze darkened. "Is that so...?"
"Yes, sir. We were considering more extreme methods, but we awaited your orders first."
Beside Gozen, the second man exuded an entirely different energy. Edgar Holland, draped in a crisp suit under a trench coat, exuded effortless authority. His high-fade hair and well-groomed beard were as sharp as the smirk playing on his lips. Without a word, he grabbed a folding chair, flipped it open, and sat directly in front of Udo.
"It's fine. We'll take it from here," Holland declared.
The two officers bowed and departed, leaving Udo alone with Holland and Gozen.
A heavy silence settled in the chamber, thick with unspoken threats. Minutes stretched unbearably before Holland finally broke it with a chuckle.
"Oh, apologies. How rude of us not to introduce ourselves.
After all… you are our long-awaited guest of honour."
Holland rose, slinging an arm lazily around Gozen's shoulders. "This is Captain Gozen, my right-hand man. Occasionally feeds me some wisdom, but more importantly, keeps me in check… y'know, in case I get a little… unhinged." His fingers tightened slightly on Gozen's shoulder, smirk never faltering. "Really, though. I appreciate your work, bud."
Gozen shot him a deadpan look. "Uh huh."
Holland ignored him, turning his full attention back to Udo. "And as for me… I'm Sir Holland. Head, commander, and chief of the Dove Corporation. Basically, I run this whole operation. But I'm sure you already knew that."
With that, he sank back into his chair, the silence returning like a thick fog.
Then, in a tone dripping with mock patience, he said, "Now then… your turn."
Udo remained motionless, eyes shut, his silence unwavering.
Holland let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, that's what we're doing, huh?
You're just gonna hang there all day, playing the silent game like some little fucking mute, yeah?"
He leaned forward, voice low but laced with amusement. "Great. 'Cause I've got a lot of shit to get off my chest, and I want you to listen to every damn second of it."
With that, he stood, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the concrete as he began to pace.
"See, I was just a little 5-year-old kid when I first learned about the greatness of the Dove. First discovered in 1970 by the current Man of God, Joseph Abrams, the man single-handedly responsible for people still being able to live and breathe on this planet. Then your family...your bloodline, the Iche clan...came along with their agenda and tried to turn everyone against him. See, that's one thing I never got with you people...what on earth persuaded you scum into turning on the one man who saved us all in the first place? And not only that, no, no, no...but you aligned yourselves with a Fiend, the literal root of our problems, acquired this weird new all-powerful vibration, and decided to join them in creating a new world reigned by Abaddon and his Fiends.
Holland stopped, standing before Udo, his expression tightening into a grimace. "Of course, I wasn't just going to sit there and watch you lot burn everything I grew up believing...but neither was Joseph, who sealed every single living member of that bloodline for the cost of his Dove...but unfortunately, the damage had already been done. That little revolt executed by your disgusting family inspired future generations to follow suit...leading to organisations like The Herd today...which leads me to you."
Holland sauntered back to his chair, lowering himself onto it with a sense of finality. He reached out, taking hold of Udo's chin, forcing him to face him.
"I know you're behind it, you little shit. I know you've been the one pulling the strings." A self-satisfied smirk curled his lips. "But I guess now there's nothing to worry about. Without the Shepherd, finding the sheep will be quite an easy ride. I promise you. I'll take down each and every one of your sheep, for all the families you tossers have hurt over the years..." His voice dropped to a whisper, his words a cold threat breathed into Udo's ear. "Including mine."
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In the steady hum of the police station, Bevan sat rigidly across from two officers, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat. As he recounted his story, their pens flew across notepads, every detail meticulously recorded.
"Um, so I'm having a little chat with him on a bench in front of the Arène D'Éveil—" Bevan began, his voice shaky.
"What time was this?" asked one of the officers, a tall man with graying hair.
"Uh… about 10 p.m."
The officer jotted it down. "Ten… p.m., noted."
"I then head inside, but he stays… and I haven't seen him since."
The second officer, younger, his sharp gaze unwavering, leaned forward. "During the conversation, did he indicate where he was planning to go?"
"As far as I remember, no."
"Alright, that's fine… And you mentioned two missing persons?" The younger officer's eyes flickered with quiet calculation.
"Yes, officer."
"Were you aware of the second victim's whereabouts while you were speaking with the first?"
"Um… yeah, actually. He was inside with his friends."
"Okay… both your sons, you said?" The older officer's voice carried a note of sympathy.
"Yes, officer… well, one's adopted."
The officers exchanged a glance, brief but notable.
"Adopted, you say…" The younger officer's pen resumed its hurried scribbling.
"Yeah… is there a problem?" Bevan asked, unease creeping into his voice.
"No, no. Everything's fine," the older officer assured him, though the subtle tension between the two was hard to ignore. "You're doing well. Just one last question before we begin our investigation."
"Alright, hit me."
"Could you tell us the ethnicity of the adopted child?"
Bevan hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Um… African."
The younger officer wrote it down, then subtly leaned in to whisper something to his partner. Bevan's stomach twisted as he watched them exchange hushed words.
"Whoa, um… okay," the younger officer muttered. "I don't know about you, but the similarities between this case and the kid caught yesterday are a little… unsettling."
The older officer responded in a low whisper, his words too soft for Bevan to catch. Finally, he straightened and cleared his throat.
"Mr. Wilson, based on the details you've given us… this eerily lines up with the incident from last night."
"Incident…?" Bevan echoed, dread sinking its claws into his chest.
Before an answer could come, the door burst open. A uniformed officer rushed in, panting.
Bevan and the two policemen hurried into the next room, where a crowd of officers stood, eyes fixed on a mounted TV. Across the kingdom, life came to a standstill—shoppers, workers, and commoners in the streets turned their attention to billboards and screens. The weight of the moment pressed down on all of Evangelio.
Inside the secure confines of his office, Sir Holland sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his face broadcasted to every corner of the kingdom. His tone was both informal and authoritative, carrying an air of calculated ease.
"Greetings, people of Kingdom Evangelio. Doubt I still need to introduce myself at this point, so how about I just cut to the chase?" He paused, letting anticipation build before his next words dropped like a hammer. "For those who haven't caught wind of last night's events… a Fiend host was caught. But not just any Fiend host—one directly tied to the Iche bloodline."
A collective gasp rippled through the kingdom. From crowded markets to dimly lit living rooms, disbelief spread like wildfire.
"Yes, you heard me right. Remember the infamous Oba Iche?" Sir Holland leaned forward, his gaze piercing through the lens. "The man who led the worldwide revolt against Dovanity, taking countless innocent lives in the process? Ladies and gentlemen, we believe we have captured his direct son—one of the last remaining members of the Iche clan… Udo Iche."
Back in the police station, Bevan felt his breath hitch. His gaze remained locked on the screen as a cold weight settled in his gut. The name echoed in his mind, hollow and unreal.
"U-do...?" His lips moved soundlessly, the pieces of the nightmare beginning to slot into place.
Meanwhile, in Sir Holland's office, the commander pressed on. "He was found mercilessly butchering a middle-aged man, while a teenage boy was seen lying in a pool of blood nearby. The body of the boy then vanished without a trace. We have reason to believe that Udo is the driving force behind the rising terrorist group, The Herd—intent on continuing his father's dark legacy."
The kingdom watched in tense silence as Sir Holland's expression steeled.
"But fear not. What I am about to announce marks a decisive step toward the peaceful era we all long for. In three days… Udo Iche will be executed."
Shock waves surged through the audience as the harsh sentence was pronounced.
"Let this be a warning to any Fiend host. With your leader in the bag, there's nowhere to run.
We'll eventually find you...and we'll send you to hell."
With that, the broadcast cut, leaving the audience in stunned silence. Yet, as the reality of the announcement set in, applause erupted throughout the kingdom, the viewers embracing the promise of a safer future.
Back at the police station, Bevan was left stunned amidst the jubilant policemen, their cheers ringing in his ears. One officer came over to him, hand outstretched for a high-five. "Gimme five!"
But Bevan, still grappling with the news, could only clench his fist, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.
"I need answers..." he muttered before storming out of the room, leaving the policeman standing in the midst of his celebration, hand still held high.