The light of the 33rd Floor bathed the ruined battlefield in a cold glow. Shinsu hung heavy in the air, its faint crackle the only sound breaking the silence. Amidst the rubble, a silver-haired figure stood, his blade resting against the ground.
Arie Karean exhaled slowly, his pale eyes scanning the devastation. A faint hum resonated from his sheathed sword, the cloth-bound hilt trembling under the weight of power it struggled to contain. The echoes of his family's teachings rang in his mind, reminders of the perfection demanded from all who bore the Arie name. But perfection was a dream he had long since abandoned.
"You could've finished them sooner, Karean."
The voice was sharp, tinged with an edge of mockery. Karean turned to see another silver-haired figure stepping through the smoke. He was dressed in the traditional white of the Arie family, but his demeanor was anything but traditional. His hair fell in a loose wave over his shoulder, and his sword hung at his side, pristine and untouched.
Arie Roulin smirked as he approached, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Or are you dragging this out to make the rest of us look good?"
Karean didn't reply immediately , he stopped and turned to face him. "Why are you here, Roulin? I doubt it's to exchange pleasantries."
Roulin's smirk widened. "Fair enough. Word's spreading. People are starting to notice the little group you've put together. The 'Defects of the 10 Great Families.' It's quite the name—catchy, even."
Karean's expression didn't change. "It's not a name we chose."
"No, but it fits, doesn't it?" Roulin gestured to the battlefield behind them. "You, wielding a sword you can barely control. Them, a walking circus of broken powers. It's poetic, in a way."
Karean's eyes narrowed. "Say what you came to say, Roulin , or leave."
Roulien's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of faint curiosity. "You've always been so cold. I can't decide if it's arrogance or if you really think you can do this."
Karean didn't respond.
"I'm here to warn you," Roulin continued, his tone shifting to something more serious. "The Tower doesn't look kindly on people like you. Outcasts, anomalies, whatever you want to call yourselves. The Great Families have already started to take notice. If you keep climbing, it won't just be Regulars standing in your way."
Karean's grip tightened on his sword. "If they want to stop us, they'll have to face us."
"Brave words." Roulin's smirk returned, but it was tinged with something darker. "But bravery won't mean much when someone like Father decides you're a problem."
Karean's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.
"Well, I've said my piece," Roulin said, stepping back. "Good luck with your little crusade, Karean , I'll be watching. From a safe distance, of course."
He turned and walked away, his laughter echoing faintly in the distance.
Karean stood there for a moment, his hand resting on his sword's hilt. The weight of Roulin's words hung heavy in the air, but he pushed it aside. Turning back to his team, he sheathed his thoughts alongside his blade.
----------
Far above, on the 50th Floor, a black ship drifted through the shinsu-filled skies. It was one of F.U.G.'s vessels, its jagged hull a stark silhouette against the light. Inside, the atmosphere was tense.
At the heart of the ship, a young Slayer Candidate sat cross-legged, meditating in a swirling pool of shinsu. His name was Saron , and he had earned his place among F.U.G.'s rising stars. The air around him crackled with potential, his every breath drawing shinsu into his core.
Unbeknownst to him, death had already boarded the ship.
The intruder moved like a phantom, his black cloak blending with the shadows. His mask, a smooth obsidian surface etched with faint, golden lines, concealed his identity. Despite the ship's defenses, he passed through the corridors unnoticed, his movements deliberate and precise.
The first sign of his presence was the sudden silence. Guards stationed at the entrance to Aaron's chamber fell one by one, their lives snuffed out before they could react. The faint hum of shinsu resonated in the air, a chilling prelude to the chaos that followed.
Inside the chamber, Saron's eyes snapped open. He rose to his feet, shinsu coiling around him like a living serpent. "Who dares to challenge F.U.G.?" he growled, his voice echoing through the room.
The masked man stepped into the light, his Red eyes gleaming through the slits of his mask. He didn't speak. Instead, he raised a hand, and the air seemed to warp around him.
Saron attacked first, his shinsu forming a massive spear that hurtled toward the intruder. But the man moved with impossible speed, his figure blurring as he dodged the strike. In an instant, he was upon Saron, his hand glowing with condensed shinsu.
The battle was brief but ferocious. Saron fought with everything he had, but the masked man's movements were calculated, his attacks devastating. In the end, the Slayer Candidate fell, his body crumpling to the ground in a pool of blood.
The intruder knelt beside him, his voice cold and detached. "You were never meant to climb the Tower."
As the masked man stood, a faint chime sounded from his cloak , "Visible Mode" a Black Sphere Appeared
A voice, sharp and clipped, came through. "The princess is waiting. I trust you've finished?"
"Yes," the man replied.
"Good. Return to the 52nd Floor. She doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The call ended, and the device dissolved into shinsu. The masked man cast one last glance at the broken body before vanishing into the shadows, leaving behind only silence.
---
The room was shrouded in darkness, broken only by the faint glow of a pocket hovering near the center of the space. The man sitting in the chair leaned back, his face partially obscured by shadow. His sharp, angular features were briefly illuminated as his piercing blue eyes glowed faintly, cutting through the dim light like twin flames.
He spoke with calm authority, his voice low but resonant.
"Yes?"
A moment of static crackled through the pocket before a casual, almost mocking voice responded.
"Yo, Khun. Have you heard of the 'Defects'?"
The man's eyes narrowed slightly, though his composure remained intact.
"Yes, I've heard. What of them?"
The voice on the other end hesitated briefly before its tone turned serious.
"They're causing a stir. Climbing faster than anyone expected. Rumor has it, they've got some real talent, even if their control's... questionable but the problem is They're Damaging the families' Reputation"
The Khun adjusted his position slightly, steepling his fingers as he considered the information.
"Talent or not, they're anomalies. If left unchecked, they'll become a problem—either for us or for the Tower's balance."
"That's the thing," the voice continued. "They're attracting attention from some high places. Even the Great Families have started whispering about them."
Khun let out a soft exhale, his glowing eyes flickering faintly.
"They're still members of the 10 Great Families, even if only by blood. That fact alone demands we tread carefully."
"Carefully? That's not really your style," the voice quipped.
A faint smirk crossed Khun's lips, but it was devoid of humor.
"Care is what keeps us alive in a Tower full of fools who think power alone guarantees survival."
The voice fell silent, seemingly acknowledging the truth in his words.
After a brief pause, Khun's expression hardened, and his voice dropped to a commanding tone.
"Dispatch a Ranker to the 34th Floor. Someone capable, but not overzealous. Have them put some sense into the Defects. They need to understand the limits of their rebellion. But... make it clear they're not to be dealt with too harshly. They may be Defects, but they're still former members of the 10 Great Families."
There was a slight hesitation on the other end before the reply came.
"You're going soft, Khun."
"No," Khun said coldly. "I'm being pragmatic. Crushing them outright would bring unnecessary attention. Their families might not care for them personally, but publicly, they won't tolerate outsiders interfering with their bloodline. The Tower thrives on politics as much as power."
"Fair enough," the voice said, now devoid of its earlier humor. "Anyone in mind for the job?"
Khun leaned forward, the glow of his eyes intensifying as he rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair.
"Pick someone efficient but diplomatic. They're not to antagonize the Defects, only to test their resolve and remind them of their place. If they're smart, they'll get the message."
"And if they don't?" the voice asked, a hint of curiosity creeping back in.
Khun's smirk returned, colder than before.
"If they don't, we'll find other ways to make them understand. The Tower isn't kind to outliers, no matter their lineage."
The pocket's light dimmed slightly as the other person seemed to consider his words.
"Got it. I'll take care of it. Anything else?"
Khun leaned back into the shadows, the glow of his eyes receding like embers fading into ash.
"No. Just ensure the message is delivered."
With a faint chime, the connection ended, and the room was once again consumed by darkness. Khun sat in silence for a moment, his thoughts unreadable, before he finally rose and disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the faint hum of shinsu lingering in the air .