I don't know if you remember that i said this is a 1st arc in chapter 15.2 well yes the prologue for first arc has ended and now we descend INTO THE NIGHT the first arc
Thx for your support mamedh the stones and the hope kept me going 👊😁 even i forgot to donate stones and after few chapters around 25 pls give me a review if you feel like it.
-Updates will be more frequent 2-3 days (little planned out)
-Photos have been posted on 12-1-2025
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"Two halves make a full brother. That child is born to inherit darkness, just like my anguishing power that dwells in it. To guide him is my duty and pleasure." the demonic voice didn't change but it lacked the cold edge compared to before
Jin's placed one hand on the mask. A tired sigh slipped through clenched teeth, reverberating softly in the still air. The mask was eerily similar to his own in shape and design, yet it lacked the faint glow his original mask carried—a dull, lifeless twin.
The wheelchair beneath him moved soundlessly, leaving faint marks on the tatami mats. Its crimson metallic frame was marred by jagged, wired scratches etched across its surface, as though clawed by restless, unseen hands. The marks seemed to tell a story—perhaps the final struggle of a desperate father or the tortured claws of a sinner dragging through hell. the person was draped in sleek black fabric.
The cloth clung to him like liquid mercury, smooth and reflective, casting a faint glister of light. Yet, the light was not the pale yellow of the room's glow but a ghostly white, as though it bent reality itself.
"Oh?" Mahito mused, his gaze shifting downward to a frame resting on the ground. "You still fancy this one, brother?"
Jin lowered himself, his tired eyes locking on the painting. It seemed to pull him into its story, a tale woven into its strokes. Light from above spilled over them, illuminating mahito's face.
An unsettling visage marked with runes, as though they alone restrained something monstrous a face that should be called skull and eyes with no pupil or white in sight one had to wonder how he saw.
"It's a masterpiece" Jin replied, unbothered by the demonic appearance.
"That it is" Mahito agreed, his tone laced with subtle admiration. "A story as complicated and intertwined as the hairs in the brush that painted that canvas. An atheist no more." He paused briefly.
"After all, it belongs to my world. . . of the few things I have."
A calm silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Jin stood, the painting in hand, and walked to the wall before them. The wall's state told its own story—a backdrop of decay. Blackened patches and streaks of deep red marred the surface, as though blood, sludge, or something otherworldly had seeped through over the years. It was a perfect stage for the majestic painting—a beautiful yet tragic addition to the desolation.
Jin carefully hung the canvas in its rightful place.
"Forget it, Mahito" he said, turning toward him. His reptilian eyes, soft yet distant, met Mahito's eyes or rather gaze. "Let it rest. . . like I have. It will only hurt if you pick up broken glass."
Jin approached slowly, taking hold of the wheelchair, and began to push it forward. The sound of the wheels was muffled as they passed through identical rooms, each a reflection of the last. The monotonous repetition gave the unsettling impression of a maze, each turn more disorienting than the last.
"There is not much to forget," Mahito murmured, his hollow eyes narrowing as he stared at the path ahead. "When I hardly recall anything since arriving here. Yet the few I have. . ." His voice trailed off. "Are not worth remembering."
"A new life and a new start" Jin muttered behind him. "The past doesn't belong here and matter here."
"But it does" Mahito countered, his sharper than before vibrating through the replicant rooms "For the past that determines your present. . . is just like the present that determines your future. . . our future."
Jin scoffed, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. "Fuck that. Tell me, how's your health? Has the breathing gotten any better?"
Mahito frowned at the question, his hollow eyes squinting as if reluctant to answer. After a brief pause, he admitted, "That, it-it has."
"You haven't stopped making those masks, have you?" Jin asked coldly, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.
Before long, they reached the end of the maze. A massive black mirror wall stood before them, its surface reflecting the dim corridor behind them—the endless maze, the wheelchair, and even the painting—but not their own figures. It was as though the mirror mocked their existence, showing everything but them.
"It will kill you" Jin said quietly, his voice a mix of weariness and anger.
"It is the fate of all who have been born. . ." Mahito replied, his tone laced with sarcastic resignation. "Because if this is a new start, then I shall lay my life for something worthwhile."
He twisted his head slowly to face Jin, a sharp smile forming on his face. "And then death can have me for all it wants." A short pause.
"For how can I die with the chosen one right beside me?" Mahito added, his grin widening as he noted the anticipated smirk on Jin's face.
Jin's expression didn't disappoint, prompting Mahito to flash a smile—a peculiar mix of creepy and joyous, a smile unseen by the world, at least this world.
CRIKKK!
A sharp, grating sound pierced the air as cracks spread across the black mirror's surface, as if the very fabric of reality was tearing itself apart. The fractures multiplied rapidly, forming an intricate web of jagged lines. The effect was unsettling yet mesmerizing, a macabre beauty born of fractures.
Yet within the shattered design, faint outlines began to emerge, a outline of two crisp-figure-formed by the faint cracks, reflecting their figure one sitting while one stood behind the other.
In the center of these figure's chest, a soft glow pulsed, one white while other yellow like a burning star, flickering like a fragile heartbeat trapped within a void of cracked figure seeping through the very cracks as if spilling into the world itself.
CRACK!
With a deafening snap, the mirror's fractured pieces folded inward, collapsing upon themselves like a spell from Dr strange. From the collapsing shards, an intense, blinding light of yellow and white erupted, forcing them to shield their eyes.
The glow illuminated the space in harsh bursts, casting fleeting shadows that danced erratically across unseen walls.
"Two outcasts of their world, trying to make this fictional one better—what madness," came a voice, deep and resonant, with a demonic timbre from mahito.
Yet, beneath the inhuman tone, there was a strange, almost sorrowful humanity that lingered in his words.
"A banquet of madness brother," Jin replied, his voice a chilling counterpart. It was metallic and low-pitched similar to his monster form.
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Click! Clik! . . .Clik!
The metallic sound echoed at the top of a decaying tower, slicing through the oppressive stillness of the night. A figure cloaked in familiar dark attire stood motionless, the faint glow of distant lights casting shifting shadows across their form. Click! Clik! The gloved hands toyed with a lighter, its delicate orange sparks briefly illuminating the intricate details of a golden, horned mask before igniting a cigarette held in their left hand.
Fshhh!
The tip of the cigarette flared to life, its embers glowing brightly before dimming as the figure inhaled deeply. Smoke curled upward, a ghostly wisp that seemed to dissolve unnaturally into the air, vanishing before it could drift too far or leave a trace. The lighter, now unnecessary, slipped from their gloved fingers.
Yet, instead of falling, it disappeared entirely—gone as if swallowed by another dimension. The figure didn't flinch. It was routine, a familiar phenomenon that passed without notice.
The choking embrace of midnight wrapped around the slums of Arakawa like a suffocating veil. The air was thick with the metallic tang of pollution, a blend of smog and despair so palpable it seemed to coat the tongue. The figure, however, remained unfazed—perhaps accustomed to the foulness, or perhaps shielded by the golden mask that concealed their face.
The building beneath them stood as a crumbling relic of a better time. Its lower floors had long since been abandoned, reduced to rubble and rot, but the top floors clung stubbornly to life. Dim lights flickered behind grimy windows, illuminating the desperation of the weak and forgotten who clung to this decrepit sanctuary. Yet even here, freedom was a fragile illusion.
Ha~
"Here it comes," the woman murmured, her voice calm but tinged with weariness. The metal piece strapped to her forearm vibrated silently—a call she had anticipated but hoped to avoid. Her gloved fingers brushed over the device before the connection snapped into place.
'Wha arE YOU DOing!'
The voice exploded in her mind, sharp and angry, its tone straining against the limits of self-control. She chuckled nervously, her voice a mix of forced humour and unease. "Ahe hee... Come on, boss, do you not trust m—"
'It's NOT ABout truST, you fool!'
"Ah hehe he" she broke into another fit of nervous laughter, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her glove. The sight would've been enough to send Shinso into a dead faint—he liked staying up late, sure, but hallucinating this scene? No, if he ever witnessed her in this state, he'd bet on it being a dream. Her carefully curated image had already shattered in front of him; any more cracks would feel like a glitch in reality itself.
'I-i just received the intel from one of our sleepers—it's not a big—'
"IT IS A BIG DEAL YOU MORON"
Far away, in a distant chamber, the voice's owner sat in stark contrast to her nervously fumbling figure. Yaksa leaned forward, perched on a pristine white chair at the helm of a long, obsidian-black table. His fist hovered above its polished surface, trembling with barely restrained fury. The veins on his temple throbbed, anger radiating from him in waves as his other hand pressed firmly against the side of his mask.
The table beneath him was vast, large enough to seat ten on each side without them so much as brushing fingertips, but only four white chairs remained, scattered like ghosts along its length. Behind Yaksa, a few dark blue seats stood silently, waiting for occupants who never came. Yet it was the crimson chair at the table's head that commanded attention—its bold color and towering back breaking the rigid black-and-white scheme.
The room itself was a surreal blend of timelessness and futurism. Overhead, a vast sky twinkled with stars and distant galaxies, while the floor was paved with ancient gray stone, its cracks whispering stories of another era.
Yaksa's trembling fist unclenched slightly as his gaze fell to the center of the table.
A crumpled, yellowed photograph lay there sitting inside a black sleek, case its edges worn and fragile. The image—a family of three dressed in clothes that seemed both traditional and otherworldly—stared back at him with frozen smiles. Beside it, a tiger-shaped mask rested ominously, flanked by three golden incense sticks.
The fragrant smoke curled upward in twisting spirals, resembling dragons weaving through unseen currents in the air.
Hovering just above the photo were two violet disks, faintly glowing and about the size of a thumb. They pulsed rhythmically, their intricate patterns forming a cross-like design—a circle within a circle, with faint blue lines radiating outward.
At the very center, a single golden dot flickered like the heartbeat of some ancient, forgotten machine.
Yaksa's fury simmered beneath the surface, his focus split between the delicate objects before him and the conversation unfolding in his mask. The room was silent save for the faint hum of the disks.
"I just had to come here! Can you not—" Rei's voice broke through the mental link, sharp and impatient.
"I cannot! Today is the FREAKING ceremony, and I, for the love of Christ, am your boss, your freaking C.R.E.T.A.k.e.r! For god's sake, it's your duty to at least inform me—or just give a call—before doing something so stupid!" Yaksa rebuked, his voice rising with every word.
"But I-I just received it!" she retorted, her voice shaky but loud enough to challenge him.
"Like, a few seconds ago! And I already told you—I'm way past those mid-tier assignments! I need something better to prove myself!" Rei's voice came through firm but laced with frustration, and Yaksa could vividly imagine her stomping the floor as she argued.
Yaksa ground his teeth, his patience fraying like the edges of a worn-out rope. Yet, there was nothing he could do. The priest and captain could arrive at any moment, and the captain had just asked him to check on the preparations. What was he supposed to say now? His fingers twitched in frustration. 'Damn it. . . !'
"Pleeease~ Boss! I'm already here, and it'll take at least ten minutes to get back. I promise, it'll be a walk in the park. Just help me out this once—I swear I'll never annoy you again!" Rei pleaded, her tone switching to a mix of desperation and charm.
Yaksa sighed, shaking his head in displeasure. His fingers tapped against the smooth surface of his mask as he glanced around the room. "They haven't arrived yet, so. . . forget it, nothing can be changed now. I'll see what I can do."
"I knew I could trust you! LSEE YOU SOON BOSS!" Rei's mental scream echoed loudly enough to make Yaksa wince, despite the communication being entirely telepathic.
"Hey! I said I'll—" The connection fell short as the other side withdrew before he could answer.
CRIKKK!
The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the air, followed by a blinding flash of light. Yaksa shielded his eyes instinctively, a bitter curse forming in his mind. Jin and Mahito had arrived.
'Damn it.'
His thoughts raced. How would he explain this mess to the captain and priest? His eyes flickered to the photo at the centre of the room—a silent prayer escaping his lips that everything would somehow go right.
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Meanwhile, Rei. . .
Rei snapped her fingers, her boots scraping softly against the edge of the crumbling building as she moved to its very brink. The jungle of rust and misery stretched out before her, a chaotic sprawl of decaying high-rises and abandoned structures.
Around her, the remnants of a forgotten world loomed—rusting cables swayed in the faint wind, neon lights blinked feebly against the suffocating gloom, and the mechanical wails of distant factories hummed like a dying heartbeat. From her vantage point, the ground below resembled a graveyard of steel and concrete, littered with lifeless warehouses and crumbling school buildings—a perfect hunting ground for unwelcome guests.
She recalled old maps of the area's tunnels and underground systems but chose not to rely on them today. Today, she would prove herself.
Far below, shadows flitted like rats through narrow alleys, their movements weighed down by desperation. Rei's sharp eyes caught sight of one particular figure—a man forcing a woman to the ground. Both wore torn, dirt-streaked clothes, slum dwellers clearly scraping by in this forsaken part of the city.
Sigh.
Rei stretched out her right arm, pointing her index finger at the struggling figures without even sparing them a glance. Her focus remained locked on the distant warehouse, her gaze piercing as if she could see through its walls.
No sound. No visible sign of what happened. But something did.
Toup!
A faint sound broke the oppressive silence, barely audible yet sharp enough to ring in the girl's ears. She looked young—too young—with short, black hair unevenly torn from her scalp. Scabs and dried blood marred her head, evidence of cruelty etched into her being. Her face, pale and sunken, was no blessing either. In this world—or at least in this part of it—it was her curse.
A broken button, she thought bitterly, a fleeting distraction in the suffocating darkness. Her eyes remained shut, though they quivered uncontrollably, betraying her terror. Tears had stopped flowing long ago.
Her frail, malnourished hands trembled like dry twigs in the wind, desperately covering her chest and clutching at the coarse fabric of a skirt— now a dingy reminder defiled. . . She held it tightly while other wrapped against her chest, futile Armor against the rough probing hands digging into her thighs.
Dried maroon stains marred her nether region, scars of countless size and shapes covered her entire body she could no longer distinguish from one another. The faces changed; the story stayed the same.
But tonight. . . tonight was different.
The grip on her leg loosened. The man stopped moving.
THUD!
Her eyes flew open for a fraction of a second before squeezing shut again, her breath caught in her throat. His weight still pressed her down, his head fell just inches from hers. But something was off. The air around her shifted.
The pulling ceased. His touch grew still and loose, his ragged animalistic breathing faded to silence. A metallic tang wafted into her nostrils, sharp and distinct, cutting through the filth of the slums.
Iron?
Her heart hammered against her ribcage, a primal terror seizing control. The realization struck her all at once.
Blood.
"AHHHH!" The scream tore from her chest before she clamped her hands over her mouth, her own ragged gasp muffled. Panic and adrenaline surged through her fragile frame. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she shoved his limp, heavy body off her. It slumped to the side, lifeless, but the overpowering scent of blood remained, heavy and suffocating.
It wasn't hers. Not this time.
Her hollow, wide blue eyes darted to the figure lying on the ground. Her stomach twisted violently as the gruesome sight registered: the man's greasy face, frozen in a twisted grin stared at her with one intact eye, its glassy surface reflecting her pale trembling form.
The other eye was obliterated, a gory hole stretching to the back of his head, pooling with the growing lake of blood beneath his head.
Her breath hitched. She instinctively rubbed her bare, calloused feet against the uneven, broken asphalt as she slid backwards, distancing herself from the nightmare unfolding before her. Her back pressed against a mound of trash, the stench barely noticeable beneath the oppressive metallic tang filling the air.
Her mind raced, but there was no sense to make of this. Her lips quivered as she fought back another scream, her hands clutching her mouth tightly, tasting the dirt and dried blood caked on her fingers.
The man was dead. But how?
Her head snapped in every direction, desperate to find an explanation—a shadow, a movement, anything. But there was nothing. The alley was empty save for the lifeless body before her.
'A vigilante?' she thought, though the idea felt absurd. She'd heard no gunshots, no footsteps, not even the faintest whisper of movement. Whoever—or whatever—had done this without her even noticing a shadow.
Her gaze lingered on the man's face, that twisted grin now a grotesque mockery of life. Her limbs shook as she slowly crawled forward, desperation eclipsing fear. Hunger gnawed at her insides, relentless and cruel.
She hesitated for a moment, her hollow eyes glinting with something between hope and greed. Then, she reached out, her trembling fingers searching the man's pockets. A makeshift dagger clattered to the ground as she pulled out a battered purse. Her stomach twisted from the gnawing emptiness inside her, it left no room for hesitation.
She didn't know what had happened here or who was responsible. It didn't matter. Hero or villain, savior or monster—she owed them her life tonight. The morality of it all was irrelevant when hunger clawed at her every waking moment.
Her gaze drifted upward, catching sight of the towering skyscraper, it's neon red neon lights stark against the night sky and silver fog, The refugee building. a beacon of false hope in this grim world, loomed over her.
'Sixty stories high,' she thought bitterly. The people there had their own battles to fight, battles she would never be part of. They didn't have time for someone like her. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Refugees looking out for other refugees? The idea was laughable.
A tired, wishful smirk tugged at the corner of her cracked lips. Her reflection danced in the blood of sinner, half-broken like her spirit. She limped away, clutching her stolen spoils, the scent of iron still heavy in the air.
"Hm~" From the top of the towering refugee structure, she sat perched, her figure silhouetted against the dim sky. One foot dangled lazily in the open air, swinging in rhythm to her amusement, while the other remained firmly planted on the edge of the ledge. Her gaze flicked toward the girl below, her lips curling into a smirk. 'A sensory quirk? Not bad.'
With a tap on the upper part of her boot, a small, sleek device snapped out from one of the three concealed chambers—an advanced monocular. It unfolded with a faint mechanical hum as she brought it to her eye, zooming in on the girl below. The image sharpened to an almost unnatural clarity, capturing every detail of the target's face, down to the faint glisten of sweat on her brow and the strands of hair clinging to her skin.
'Good,' she mused, a mental note already forming to dispatch someone to retrieve her. She wasn't visible to the gir but that doesn't mean she wasn't present there was far from ordinary.
Even without the ability to see her directly, someone with a powerful visual quirk might notice something off—a strange distortion in the air, like an invisible bubble rippling and twisting in her vicinity, dancing just at the edge of perception. Still, for anyone without X-ray vision, she remained utterly undetectable.
Her unique sight revealed a scene far more intricate. A massive, pulsating bubble surrounded her, enveloping her completely, while ten's of smaller or few bigger floating bubbles swirled around her in chaotic motion. Each bubble carried an assortment of objects: a lighter, a rocket launcher, barrel filled with unidentifiable substances, ammunition, fuel cans, and other tools of chaos and destruction.
One of the smaller bubbles drifted toward her, seamlessly merging with the larger bubble enveloping her. From within, a sleek, white binocular device materialized, dropping smoothly into her waiting hand. Its design was smooth, futuristic, and eerily perfect to the touch as if made specifically for her.
She pressed a few buttons on the side of the binoculars, the device humming softly in response, and adjusted the dial to switch to thermal detection. Bringing it to her eye, she directed her focus toward the warehouse below.
Her breath hitched.
Her mouth fell open, hanging in stunned silence. ". . . . . . shit," she muttered under her breath. The scene through the thermal lens was nothing like what she had anticipated yet a crazy smile still bloomed on her lips, one that shall mark her name in both awe and fear.
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- ☢ CATIOUS ☢ pls read
-This was a demo of the darker theme we will touch in future, if you are a child please back off now, i am not responsible if you get depressed or question reality, things are about to get gory, brutal, dark, evil (Maybe not that much) BUT REAL.
- Everything that you see happens in day-to-day life, just that you are too busy to know or read about it.
-My goal is to expand your perspective with my art and make awareness because world is not sunshine and rainbows
- ADDDD IT TO LIBRARAYYYYYYY