Hate. Sadness. Rage. These are the emotions that pave the twisted path toward what we call criminality. They are the seeds from which crime grows, shaping the world we live in, whether crime increases, decreases, or simply festers in the shadows.
These feelings compel us to justify the unjustifiable, to do what we convince ourselves is right when, deep down, we know it's not.
On Earth, I was known as the Night Watcher. It wasn't a title I chose but one I earned through years of working as a detective. My shifts were always at night—the time when humanity's worst instincts came alive. I saw horrors no one should ever witness, atrocities that stripped away my faith in people. How could humans—beings capable of kindness—sink so low? Violence wasn't just an act; it was a mindset, a sickness. And every night, I waded through it.
I hated it. Every moment. Every crime. Every vile act. It all fueled a rage deep inside me, a fury at the impotence of the system. Police could arrest criminals, courts could sentence them, and prisons could hold them. But none of it stopped the cycle. They would come back, hardened and unrepentant, perpetuating the same evil. That's why I pushed myself beyond my limits—I wanted justice, not just for the victims but for the idea of humanity itself.
But my pursuit of justice led to my death. Betrayed by people I trusted—friends I thought of as family. I'd shared meals with them, introduced them to my loved ones, and let them into my life. Yet, in the end, they sold me out for money. Greed. The ultimate root of all crime.
For years after my death, there was nothing but silence. Then, against all logic, I awoke—reborn in a world so alien, it defied comprehension. Two suns bathed the land in an eerie glow, and twelve moons watched over the night. I was born into a powerful family, their wealth and influence stretching across the realm. Their protection was entrusted to an elite force known as the Stygian Order—twenty women and twenty men, sworn to defend my family at all costs.
It was within this strange new life that my father presented me with a gift: a pendant. Small, unassuming, yet pulsing with power. It wasn't just an heirloom; it was a symbol of authority, marking me as the Stygian Order's leader. When my father passed, the pendant bonded to my very soul, solidifying my place as their commander.
In time, I grew to understand the vastness of this new world—and the power coursing through me.
Nihility. A force that allowed me to create, shape, and wield the primal darkness and the void of nothingness itself. It's the kind of power that stories reserve for villains, a weapon of fear and destruction. But my goals are neither villainous nor self-serving. In this world, as in my old one, I am driven by one purpose: to eliminate evil at its roots, no matter the cost.
Even if it means taking lives.
"Sir, you're spacing out again, and your food is getting cold," a voice interrupted my thoughts.
I blinked, my gaze falling to the plate before me—eggs, bacon, and rice, still steaming faintly. Beside me stood a woman dressed in a maid's uniform, her posture straight, hands clasped neatly in front of her.
This was Alisa Kuzmina, the head maid of Section Victoria, one of the divisions of the Stygian Order. Despite her formal attire, her uniform was bristling with subtle cybernetic enhancements—more soldier than servant.
"Please, continue eating, Kazuhiro," she urged, her voice light but teasing. "It would be a shame to waste Miyako's cooking. You know how terrifying she can be when someone doesn't appreciate her efforts."
With a quiet laugh, she moved off, her footsteps a soft echo in the expansive hall.
Ah, yes. My name.
In my old world, I was Hamasaki Yoshi, a detective clawing for justice in the shadows. In this new world, I am Kohaku Kazuhiro. Leader of the Stygian Order. Slayer of corruption.
I am the Night Striker.
"Uhh, excuse me, Mrs. Kuzmina? If I may ask—where is everyone?" I asked, glancing around the vast dining hall. The table, grand enough to seat an army, felt oddly desolate with just me occupying one of its many ornate chairs.
Alisa paused mid-step as she approached the doorway, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Turning back to face me, she tilted her head slightly, her expression a mix of mild amusement and deference.
"Well, to be quite honest, Leader, everyone's already eaten. You woke up a few hours later than most of the members of the Stygian Order. Now, eat up. If you need me or anyone from Section Victoria, please don't hesitate to call my name." She offered a polite bow before departing, her steps fading into the echoes of the grand corridor beyond.
I nodded, though her explanation left a lingering unease in my mind. How was it that I always seemed to wake so late? This world operated on what seemed like a standard 24-hour cycle, yet time here felt... off, as though the rhythm of my days and nights was somehow misaligned.
As I mulled over the thought, idly chewing on a piece of bacon, the tranquility of the dining hall shattered. The double doors burst open with a resounding bang, and in stormed a trio of figures. Two girls and a boy, their energy filling the cavernous room like a tidal wave.
"The leader's awake!" one of the girls declared triumphantly. Her pink hair swayed as she sprinted across the table—yes, the table—and made a beeline straight for me.
"Wait, what the—" I barely managed before she leaped into the air.
"Ysabel, no! That's not—" the boy started, but it was too late.
"Wahaha!" she cried gleefully, tackling me full force. My chair tipped backward under the sudden impact, sending both of us crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
"Good morning!!" she shouted cheerfully, now perched atop me like a victorious conqueror.
"Ysabel!" her brother, Valerio, yelled in frustration, rushing to my side. "What the hell did I tell you about cooling your jets? You just tackled our leader!"
I groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of my head. The other girl, Yazmin, a shy figure with dark green hair, knelt beside me, her brows furrowed with concern.
"Where does it hurt? Here? Or maybe here?" she asked softly, pressing her fingers gently against my chest and shoulders as though checking for injuries.
"I'm fine, really," I assured her, gently nudging her hands away. "Her tackle wasn't that bad."
"It better not have been," Valerio muttered darkly, casting a pointed glare at Ysabel. "Otherwise, someone's corpse might've been on its way to the incinerator by now."
Ysabel scratched the back of her head with a sheepish grin. "Right, sorry. Hehe."
I shook my head with a small chuckle, standing up with Valerio's help. These three were the Escamilla triplets—Ysabel, Yazmin, and Valerio. Despite their chaotic energy, they were some of the most formidable fighters I'd ever met. Each brought something unique to the table: Ysabel's boundless energy, Yazmin's quiet precision, and Valerio's level-headed strength. Together, they were an unstoppable force in battle, a true powerhouse of skill and synergy.
"Well, you three seem especially lively today," I remarked, brushing myself off. "What's the occasion?"
"Ooh, so basically—" Ysabel began, her words spilling out like a rushing river, only to be abruptly cut off as Valerio clamped a hand over her mouth.
"He doesn't need a yap-fest, Ysabel," he said, his tone exasperated. "She's just been itching to see you awake, that's all."
Ysabel nodded enthusiastically, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. I couldn't help but smile at her relentless energy—it was infectious, in a way.
"Ah, I see," I replied, glancing at the trio with a mix of fondness and bemusement. Spending time with them always reminded me of just how different this life was from my old one.
In my previous world, outside of my detective work, my life had been consumed by pain and struggle. My family and I lived in the crossfire of gang territories, surviving day by day amidst bullets and explosions. Debt weighed us down, and the violence around us claimed the lives of loved ones one after another.
Becoming a detective had given me insight into the minds of those criminals. Many were just like us, struggling to survive—but their methods were worlds apart.
Now, in this new world, I was no longer just a man trying to make it through another day. I was a leader, a commander of 40 loyal and powerful warriors. Each of them trusted me with their lives, and I, in turn, saw them as more than just soldiers. They were my family—my students. And in this world, I had been given the chance to protect them in ways I never could before.
Hours had passed since my time with the triplets. They had returned to their rooms, leaving me to wander the expansive halls of the castle that stood above the Stygian Order's underground facility. My hands were neatly clasped behind my back, the echo of my footsteps reverberating through the high, arched corridors. The golden light of the setting sun spilled through the grand windows, bathing the stone walls in a warm glow.
The castle above served as the residence for my closest family, trusted friends, royal guards, and a select few members of the Stygian Order. Below it, hidden from prying eyes, lay the sprawling facility where the bulk of the Order resided. It was there that our operations were planned and executed, the nerve center of all Stygian missions.
As I turned a corner, the rhythmic sound of two additional sets of footsteps caught my attention. A man and a young girl emerged from the adjoining hallway, their figures silhouetted by the sunlight. The man was tall and slim, his white lab coat swaying slightly as he walked. He adjusted his glasses with an air of sophistication, his neatly trimmed beard giving him the appearance of a seasoned academic.
Beside him was a small girl, no taller than a first grader, with bright pink hair tied in neat pigtails. She wore a white lab coat just like him, complete with a pleated skirt and knee-high socks.
"Ah, Wolf! Good to see you, How're things going?" I greeted, stopping in my tracks.
Wolf Wagner, one of the head specialists of the Stygian Order, was as brilliant as he was meticulous. He smiled warmly and extended his hand. "Leader, it's always a pleasure. I've been well, thank you. My team and I have made significant progress regarding recording the surrounding kingdoms for any potential threats."
He held up his hand, and a holographic projection of the land beyond our kingdom, showing digital markings and circles of the surrounding kingdoms.
"And nothing really bad has happened yet, correct?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the image.
"Yep, the next kingdom we'll be going to take a look at is actually preparing for what looks to be a public execution" Wolf explained, smiling as if that's a good thing.
"Public Execution? Like a guillotine beheading?" My voice carried a note of concern.
Wolf adjusted his glasses and shook his head. "Yep, you don't need to worry though Leader. I plan to send Section Eagle to investigate further. If it is a false execution, we'll take it from here. Isn't that right, Lora?"
At the mention of her name, the little girl straightened, her small frame radiating an air of professionalism.
"Yes, Father," she said, her tone clipped. Mechanical spider-like arms unfolded from her back, swiping away Wolf's hand as he attempted to pat her head.
"Father, please refrain from embarrassing me in front of our Leader," she added, one of the mechanical appendages poking him in the side before retracting.
Wolf chuckled, unfazed by her reaction. "As of recently, She's been coordinating and strategizing with Section Eagle. Lora's instincts are usually spot on."
Lora nodded with quiet determination, her hands clasped behind her back in a manner reminiscent of my own.
"Very well," I said, offering Wolf a firm handshake. "Make sure you're both rested. Tonight, we have a meeting, it's just a simple celebration is all."
"Ah, Understood Leader," Wolf replied, his voice steady.
As we parted ways, I continued down the hall, my thoughts drifting to the weight of the mission ahead. For a while now, I've sent a few people, mostly Section Eagle, to go on some kind of sightseeing trip and gather intel of any potential threats to our kingdom. Not only does this benefit us in some way, thanks to them, I managed to get a good hang of this world. It's much bigger than I thought.
Night soon fell, draping the castle in a veil of darkness. As promised, the dining hall became the stage for our meeting.
I sat at the head of the long table, my seat resembling a throne in both size and design. The room was alive with energy. All 40 members of the Stygian Order were present, their voices blending into a lively hum. Some were seated, engaged in quiet conversation, while others—primarily the younger members—darted around the room with boundless enthusiasm.
For a moment, I simply observed them. Despite the diverse ages and appearances of the Order, they felt like a family. It was easy to forget that beneath their cheerful exteriors lay deadly precision. Each member was a finely honed weapon, loyal and unyielding in their devotion to our cause.
"Favreau," I said, addressing the imposing figure who had appeared at my side.
Éloi Favreau, head butler of Section Victoria, was a towering man with an aura of quiet authority. Dressed impeccably in his black butler uniform, he stepped forward and cleared his throat.
All four sections within the Stygian Order have a female and male captain, each section, Victoria, Eagle, Specialist and Reaper, have 10 members, counting the captains and each ones have their roles. 5 Women and 5 Men.
Victoria is the Maid/Butler section that oversees the safety and care of the Stygian Order and the kingdom over the facility.
Eagle is the Scout section that supports sections Specialist and Reaper in terms of reconnaissance and intel.
Specialist is the Medical/Scientists/Engineers section that supports sections Eagle and Reaper in terms of Recovery and Background Play, supporting the Reapers on the sidelines and usually away from the main fight.
Finally, Reaper. They're the elite guard assigned to fight and kill any of the final targets I set my sights on to complete a mission. An easier way to say it would be, They're the fighters of the Squadron and my right-hand weapons.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Leader wishes to speak," Favreau announced, his deep voice cutting through the din.
The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward me.
"Thank you all for being here," I began, rising to my feet. "I also wanna give a very special thanks to Section Eagle especially, for helping me get used to this new world."
A murmur of approval and cheering rippled through the room.
"I want to thank father as well for setting this all up for me too, if it weren't for him, I would've never gotten the chance or experience to meet each and every one of you."
I paused, my gaze sweeping across the faces of the Order, some nodded in appreciation while others reminisced the mention of my father, the one who gathered them all.
"Thank you! For raising me my whole life and helping me carry on my Father's legacy!"
I thrust my fist into the air, and the hall erupted in cheers.
As the excitement surged around me, I allowed myself a small smile. In moments like these, I could almost understand what it meant to be a true leader. It wasn't about the speeches or the strategies—it was about inspiring those around me to stand united in the face of adversity.
For now, at least, that was enough.
The night drifted into day, a golden dawn spilling through the castle's windows like spilled honey. The rhythmic cycle of this world was peculiar, yet I was starting to adapt.
After yesterday's meeting, I had finally taken the opportunity to delve into the oddities of this place with the Stygian Order. The calendar here, known as the Ephemeris, was a puzzle. On Earth, Ephemeris referred to astronomical data, but here, it simply meant "Calendar." Familiar yet alien, it described a 24-hour day akin to Earth's, but the week was not seven days. After Sunday came Ignisday, Magnusday, and Crysalyn—each bringing its own quirks. Crysalyn, for instance, sped up time just slightly, leaving me groggy and disoriented yesterday. But as I observed the people here living with it so effortlessly, I resolved to adapt as well.
The sunlight filtering through the high-arched window above my bed tugged me from my thoughts. I opened my eyes, groaning as the warmth chased away remnants of sleep.
"Well, at least I woke up on time today," I murmured, running a hand through my disheveled hair.
My room was a mess—a battlefield of discarded toys, old playing cards, and memorabilia from my childhood. My mother's insistence that I keep these for the memories always felt embarrassing, especially when members of the Stygian Order saw them. Still, I didn't have the heart to throw them away.
Dragging myself out of bed, I rummaged through my closet, pulling out my signature attire—a black leather jacket that gleamed faintly with the hidden Magic Sage enchantment, capable of reflecting light and deflecting lethal attacks. Baggy black pants completed the look. Practical, sleek, and fitting for a leader.
I had just reached for the door when the rapid thud of approaching footsteps caught my attention.
"What the—" I began, hand freezing on the handle.
Before I could react, the door burst open with a bang, and I was tackled to the ground by a blur of orange and energy.
"Leader!" she yelled, her voice bright and brimming with excitement.
Groaning, I propped myself up on my elbows, the girl perched unapologetically on my lap.
"Hana," I sighed.
Hana Miyako, a member of Section Reaper, was a whirlwind of enthusiasm. Her slim frame practically buzzed with energy, her bright orange hair framing a face that was both mischievous and determined. She wore a sleeveless white dress paired with brown shorts and sturdy boots.
"You said we were training today, right? So let's spar!" she declared, gripping my shoulders as if to emphasize her point.
I winced, gently setting her on her feet. "Are you sure? Last time, you told me to not hold back, and you barely lasted a minute."
"That's what sorceress Seigel is for! She's always on standby to revive me," Hana said with a grin, clapping her hands together.
I chuckled despite myself. "Fine. But let's head to the courtyard first. Then we'll move to the facility. I assume you're still cooking lunch today?"
"Of course!" she said, bouncing out of the room with an exaggerated swing of her arm.
As we walked through the castle's corridors, I considered an idea. "You know, Hana, you don't have to spar with me alone. Bring someone else. It'll give you a chance to work on team coordination mid-battle."
Hana paused mid-step, turning to me with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm… okay! I know just the person!"
She tapped her temple, activating a communication spell. This communication spell, Stygian Convoy, was significant only to those within the Stygian Order, acting as a mental walkie talkie with channels that separated the sections. "Hey, Petrova, want to train with me and the Leader?"
Before she could finish her sentence, a gust of wind and a metallic clang announced Petrova's arrival. The towering woman materialized in front of us within a blink of an eye, her gleaming silver armor adorned with crimson accents and dragon-like designs.
"Yes," Petrova said simply, her deep, Russian-accented voice slightly muffled by her dragon-helm.
"Whoa!" Hana yelped, stumbling back into me.
I steadied her with a smirk. "Still as fast as ever, huh, Petrova?"
Petrova removed her helm, revealing fiery red hair that tumbled down her back. Her piercing gaze locked onto mine. "When I hear the Leader is training, sleep is no longer an option. I would do anything…" Her voice softened as she placed her helm under one arm. "…to fight alongside my teammates and leader."
Hana, still flustered, straightened her dress. "Maybe give a warning next time before you appear out of thin air!" she huffed, storming past Petrova in mock anger.
Petrova tilted her head. "What's her problem?"
"She'll get over it," I said, jogging after Hana.
Petrova followed, the clink of her armor a steady rhythm as we descended toward the courtyard.
The sun hung high above, casting a golden sheen over the castle courtyard. The air buzzed with anticipation as Petrova and Miyako stood side by side. Petrova, calm and composed, cradled her dragon-themed helmet against her chest, while Miyako stretched with boundless energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her enthusiasm was palpable, a sharp contrast to Petrova's measured demeanor.
I leaned against a stone pillar, observing the pair. The courtyard was spacious, flanked by high walls adorned with ivy. The ground beneath us bore the scars of countless sparring matches, the dirt uneven and littered with faint scorch marks and cracks from prior battles.
Petrova tilted her head, her deep red hair glinting in the sunlight as she eyed Miyako. "Miyako, are you absolutely certain that our leader can take the both of us on? This isn't exactly an even match." Her voice carried its signature Russian lilt, calm yet tinged with doubt.
Miyako grinned, undeterred. "Of course! He's the leader of the Stygian Order, after all! If he can't handle us, then what's the point of his title?" Without warning, she shifted her stance, her expression sharpening. Her fingers curled into fists as a faint glow surrounded her. Using her Omni-Gravity, she suddenly propelled herself forward, redirecting gravity to send her hurtling toward me at breakneck speed, fist outstretched.
I stood still, letting her momentum carry her closer. Just as her fist was about to connect, I sidestepped and seized her arm mid-air. In one fluid motion, I twisted her trajectory, flipping her over my shoulder. She landed deftly, the gravity around her shifting to cushion her fall.
"You're rushing in," I said, my tone calm but firm. "Wait for an opening."
Miyako groaned but quickly pushed herself up, determination flickering in her eyes.
Petrova, in the meantime, had unsheathed her greatsword, its blade gleaming with deadly precision. She studied me for a moment, her every movement deliberate. "You've improved, Petrova," I said, letting my body phase into darkness as I dashed toward her with Nihility.
Petrova reacted instantly, her Self-Velocity kicking in. She blurred backward, faster than most eyes could track, giving herself ample space to swing her massive blade. The sound of steel slicing the air was deafening as she brought it down toward me.
Emerging from my shadow form, I raised an arm to meet her strike. Her sword slammed against my forearm, the impact sending a shockwave through the courtyard. My skin, reinforced by Nihility's protective properties, absorbed the blow, forcing her blade to recoil.
Petrova's eyes widened beneath her helm. "Such durability…" she muttered, pulling her sword back.
Meanwhile, Miyako took advantage of the moment. Stomping the ground, she lifted a flurry of rocks of varying sizes into the air. With a mischievous smirk, she pointed her fingers toward me like a gunslinger. The stones responded immediately, hurtling toward me in a barrage.
Petrova stepped aside, watching as I phased into darkness once more, slipping through the onslaught effortlessly.
"Damn it!" Miyako cursed as I closed the gap between us. She barely had time to react before I struck her square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. Grabbing her face, I slammed her into the ground with enough force to leave her unconscious.
I straightened, brushing off the dust from my jacket. "Miyako, you've got potential," I muttered under my breath, "but you're still the newest member. You've got a lot to learn."
Before I could fully gather my thoughts, Petrova charged me with blinding speed, her shoulder slamming into my side. The impact sent me skidding across the dirt, stopping just short of the courtyard's edge.
Petrova smirked, gripping her greatsword with both hands. "One down," she said, glancing briefly at Miyako's unconscious form. "Looks like it's just us now."
She launched herself into the air, her velocity building exponentially as she dove toward me like a meteor.
"Self-Velocity: Air Strike!" she roared.
The sheer force of her descent created a pressure that made the ground tremble. I braced myself, shadows pooling at my feet as I prepared to counter her.
But before either of us could strike, a figure appeared between us in a flicker of gray.
The clash never came. Petrova and I both froze, mere inches from landing our respective blows. Standing calmly between us was a man in a tailored gray suit, his glasses catching the sunlight as he adjusted them with a deliberate gesture.
"Agh, really, Siegert?" Petrova groaned, straightening herself and lowering her weapon. "I was about to land a perfectly good strike."
Willerich Siegert, the Stygian Order's battlefield technician and another member of Section Reaper, clasped his hands behind his back. His aura was as sharp as his attire—unshakeable, calculated, and commanding. His unique ability, Dominion, gave him complete access to the Temporal Dimensional Plane, Essentially giving him full power over Time itself.
"Yes, I know," Siegert replied coolly, his tone devoid of any emotion. "But I'd prefer you refrain from using enhanced techniques on the leader during a mere sparring session. He's not an invincible statue, you know."
Petrova sighed, removing her helm. Her long, crimson hair spilled out as she held the helmet at her side. "Fine," she said begrudgingly. "But next time, stay out of it unless absolutely necessary."
Siegert raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning his attention to me.
I extended a hand toward him in acknowledgment. "Appreciate the intervention, Siegert, but we were just training."
Siegert ignored my gesture, his sharp gaze shifting between Petrova and Miyako's unconscious form. "Training or not, recklessness is unbecoming of a leader's subordinates." He adjusted his glasses once more before stepping back. "I suggest wrapping up. Section Eagle is back and The others are waiting for today's briefing."
Petrova scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. But next time, I won't hold back."
With that, Siegert disappeared, His body phasing away as he used time manipulation.
I glanced at Miyako, still out cold on the ground. A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Come on, Petrova. Let's get her to her feet and head inside."
With a reluctant nod, Petrova sheathed her greatsword and stepped forward to help.
Meanwhile, During My Training with Petrova and Miyako…
Beneath the dimming sky, perched atop a jagged mountain ridge, Section Eagle watched the kingdom of Edenia like silent specters in the night. The golden towers of the capital glowed in the distance, a deceptive beacon of civilization.
Lora tapped her head, using the Stygian Convoy communication spell, her voice smooth but wary.
"Confirm, Katayama. What do you see?"
Hitomi Katayama, the Apex Predator—the deadliest sniper the Stygian Order had ever known—was motionless beneath a canopy of leaves, her rifle's scope drinking in every inch of the execution square below. She had the ultimate vantage point: the entire kingdom laid bare beneath her gaze.
She adjusted her scope, refining her vision.
"Professor Wolf wasn't exaggerating… there really is a public execution happening right now."
A member of Section Eagle exhaled sharply, eyes flickering toward the colossal guillotine at the center of the square. A sea of bodies pressed together in anticipation, voices merging into a restless, hateful roar.
"Well, damn," one of them muttered. "Never thought I'd see the day a king's bloodline got erased in broad daylight."
But Katayama wasn't focused on the crowd. No, her scope was fixed on him.
The condemned man.
Head bowed. Hands bound. Kneeling before the executioner.
Lora's voice crackled into Katayama's mind.
"Any threats?"
Katayama exhaled, steadying herself.
"Nope. Nothing… nothing except the man about to lose his head."
Her words carried weight she didn't yet understand.
Down below, the High Executor took a step forward, his voice, strong and commanding, took over the city square.
"Let it be known! On this day, the False Heir to the throne meets his rightful end! His crimes: treason, heresy, genocide! A man who sought to defile the natural order, who—"
A sound cut through the speech.
A laugh.
Low. Raspy. Almost amused.
The crowd faltered. The executioner hesitated. Even the air itself seemed to grow still.
Then, the condemned man raised his head. His lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl.
"Treason… heresy… genocide…" His voice slithered through the silence. "You call me a monster, yet you stand upon the corpses of the innocent and dare to pass judgment?"
Murmurs rippled through the masses, uncertainty slithering into their veins like venom.
His eyes scanned the gathered faces—jeering nobles, bloodthirsty spectators, uniformed enforcers who had never known suffering.
"I was once like all of you. A pawn. A loyal knight who believed in the righteousness of the crown. Who believed in the divinity of those who sit on golden thrones."
He inhaled sharply, his voice rising with fervor.
"But the truth is uglier than the lies you all swallow so willingly."
Silence.
Somewhere, a mother clutched her child closer. A guard shifted on his feet.
"I have seen the underbelly of this world! The kings you kneel to—they are parasites. They strip you of your worth, your blood, your very existence, just to feed their insatiable hunger for power. They turn wars into entertainment and call it order."
His voice deepened, raw with conviction.
"I stood for them. I fought for them. I killed for them. And when I became too great a threat to their illusion of control…" He leaned into the wooden block, grinning through clenched teeth. "They cast me aside. Branded me a heretic. A tyrant. A devil."
Then, he laughed.
Not the laugh of a broken man, nor one pleading for salvation.
But the laughter of a beast unshackled.
It started as a chuckle, then a giggle, before morphing into full-blown, unhinged hysteria. A sound so wrong, so unnatural, it made the hairs on the crowd's necks stand on end.
The executioner swallowed hard.
"You fear me," the condemned spat, "because I refuse to be shackled. You fear me because I speak the truth. But when my head rolls… your chains will not break."
His fingers flexed against the wooden block.
"No. They will tighten. And they will squeeze the life from you until there is nothing left but dust."
Katayama felt it then. A shift. A ripple through the air.
A heartbeat that did not belong.
She pressed her eye to the scope.
Something was wrong.
"Lora… something's happening."
The condemned man's breathing slowed. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"But I will not die as a prisoner."
The guillotine blade came crashing down.
And the world ruptured.
A pulse exploded outward.
A single, cataclysmic pulse.
The sky split. The earth convulsed.
Reality itself recoiled.
Katayama's vision blurred as her scope warped and flickered. The Kingdom of Edenia—once whole—was now a living nightmare.
Flames. Screams. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting in impossible shapes. Blood fell from the heavens like blackened rain.
The execution square—gone.
In its place: a throne of carnage.
And at its center, standing atop the ruins of the guillotine—
The Serpent King.
No longer bound. No longer human.
His armor, once pristine silver, had blackened into something abyssal. Golden runes carved themselves into his flesh like writhing serpents. His fingers had elongated into talons, dripping with the essence of something ancient.
And his eyes.
Serpentine. Glowing. Eternal.
A sickening snap echoed through the ruined square as his wings unfolded—scales crackling with spectral energy.
Then, he spoke.
A whisper. A prayer.
"Oh, Mother… forgive me."
He exhaled, steam rising from his lips.
"For what I have done today, no god shall accept me. I have cast a forbidden ritual, an abomination from the Seven Holy Wars of centuries past."
His gaze turned skyward.
"But everything I do… everything I will do… is for you."
The air curdled around him, vibrating with unnatural resonance.
His muscles coiled. His jaw clenched. Then—
He threw his head back and screamed.
A monstrous wave of power erupted from his body, ripping apart what remained of Edenia.
Katayama could no longer move. Could no longer think.
She watched, helpless, as the city crumbled beneath his might.
"Doctor… Lora…" she whispered, horror clawing at her throat.
"Katayama! Report! Get out of there—NOW!"
She didn't need to be told twice.
With a final, trembling glance at the living catastrophe below, she activated her teleportation device—
And fled.
Behind her, the Serpent King stood amidst the wreckage, his arms outstretched as the world knelt before him.
"I AM THE SERPENT KING."
His voice shook the heavens.
"AND THIS WORLD SHALL BURN."
And so, the war began.
The Reign of the Serpent King had begun.