Six hours.
That was how long Ino had sat on the cold bathroom floor, staring at nothing while the countdown burned in the corner of his vision like a ticking bomb.
WORLD DEMISE: 6 Days, 22 Hours, 41 Minutes, 03 Seconds
His eyes burned. Whether from tears or exhaustion, he no longer knew. The blood on his clothes had dried into stiff, crackling patches he no longer felt.
Brother...
Anta's voice ghosted through his mind again—soft, gentle, impossible.
Wake up...
"I'm awake," Ino whispered hoarsely. "I'm awake... and you're gone."
He finally lifted his head. The mirror he'd avoided for hours stared back at him. His own face looked the same—messy hair, tired eyes, slumped shoulders.
Except for the left one.
That golden eye glowed with its own unnatural light, cold and accusing. A brand. A mark of ownership.
Mark of the Apostle. Brand of the puppet.
Ino forced himself upright. His legs protested violently after hours of stillness. The house felt suffocating—too quiet, too empty, haunted by ghosts that refused to leave.
He staggered into the living room and stopped dead.
The blood was still there. Dark pools on the hardwood. Ugly splatters across the walls like some deranged painting. His stomach twisted, but there was nothing left to vomit.
No bodies, though. Agent 007 had taken Anta. Like a trophy.
"Fuck you," Ino growled at the ceiling, knowing the entity was listening. "Fuck you and your mercy."
The system screen pulsed faintly:
STATUS: Exhausted, Grieving, Hostile
"Yeah," Ino muttered. "No shit."
He couldn't stay here. Not surrounded by blood and memories that threatened to drown him.
His feet carried him upstairs on autopilot. He passed his own bedroom without looking and stopped in front of Anta's door, left slightly ajar—just as Anta always kept it.
"In case you need me in the night," the boy had said years ago.
Ino pushed the door open.
The leather bag sat on the desk, untouched. The birthday gift Anta had only enjoyed for a few short hours. Ino crossed the room in three strides and clutched it to his chest, as if it still carried his brother's warmth.
It didn't. It was just leather and brass.
His knees buckled. He slid down against Anta's bed, holding the bag like a lifeline, and finally broke.
Ugly, wrenching sobs tore out of him. The kind that hurt his throat and burned his lungs.
"I was happy… because I had you."
Anta's last words echoed in his mind, sharp as shattered glass.
"I'm sorry," Ino gasped between sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry… I should've protected you. I should've been stronger—"
What could you have done?
The thought was cruel in its honesty. Against that monster, he had been helpless. Useless. Dead weight.
The tears eventually ran dry, leaving behind a hollow ache worse than pain.
Dawn had broken. Warm sunlight streamed through the window, painting Anta's room in soft gold—the kind of morning his brother used to drag him out of bed to watch.
Come on, you'll miss it! The light hits different in the morning!
Ino swallowed hard and stood. He placed the leather bag gently on Anta's bed, then let his eyes roam across the room one last time—posters of bands Anta loved, neatly stacked textbooks, glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to the ceiling.
A life paused mid-breath.
He couldn't give Anta a proper burial. There was no body to bury.
But he could still give him something.
The morning streets of Dulwich were still quiet. Ino moved like a ghost, blood-stained clothes hidden under his black coat, eyes hollow.
The familiar bell chimed as he pushed open the door to Grandma Mei's bakery. The warm smell of fresh bread and sugar hit him like a punch to the chest.
"Oh! Good morning, dear—" Grandma Mei's cheerful voice faltered the moment she saw his face. Her flour-dusted hands froze on the counter. "Ino? Sweetheart, are you alright?"
The genuine concern in her voice nearly shattered what little control he had left.
Ino forced a weak smile. "Yes. Thank you."
His gaze drifted to the display case. There they were — strawberry macarons. Anta's absolute favorite. The ones Grandma Mei always saved for him.
"I'll take those," he said quietly, pointing.
Grandma Mei packed them with extra care, but her eyes never left his face. "Is your little brother feeling better? He looked so tired the last time I saw him..."
Ino's throat tightened.
He's dead. Murdered. Taken away like garbage.
"He's resting," Ino answered instead. It wasn't really a lie.
Grandma Mei frowned and added one extra macaron to the box without asking. "Here. His favorite, yes? Make sure to bring him by soon. I worry when I don't see you two together."
Something inside Ino cracked.
"I will," he whispered.
Another lie. How many would he tell before this was over?
"Dear..." Grandma Mei reached across the counter, her weathered hand hovering near his. "Whatever's troubling you... you don't have to face it alone. You know that, yes?"
Ino nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He paid quickly, clutching the macaron box like a lifeline, and fled before the kindness could undo what little composure he had left.
The backyard was small and overgrown. Ino went straight to the spot beneath the old cherry tree — the one Anta had always loved, even when it never bloomed right. "It's trying its best, Ino. That's what matters."
The ground was soft from recent rain. Digging was easier than it should have been. Ino dug with his bare hands, moving on pure mechanical instinct. Dig. Scoop. Dig. Scoop. The rhythm kept his mind blessedly empty. Don't think. Don't feel. Just dig.
When the hole was deep enough, Ino sat back on his heels. Sweat dripped down his face despite the morning chill. His palms were blistered—the Divine Regeneration healed them almost instantly, but new ones formed just as fast. An endless, pointless cycle.
He opened the macaron box. Six perfect strawberry macarons, plus the extra Grandma Mei had added. Seven. Anta's favorite number.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Ino whispered, arranging them carefully at the bottom of the shallow grave. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry I—"
His voice broke. He covered his face with his dirt-covered hands and just breathed. After a long moment, he continued.
"You deserved better than this. Better than me. Better than... everything that happened." He picked up the small stone he'd found earlier—smooth river rock, the kind Anta used to collect.
"I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if there's anything after... after this. But if you can..."
He placed the stone gently atop the covered grave.
"I'm going to make them pay for what they did to you."
The vow settled heavy in his chest — cold, sharp, and unyielding.
「 DING! 」
Ino's head snapped up.
The system screen expanded before him with cold, glowing text:
NAME: Ino Siente [Apostle of ※#$%^&]
AGE: 21
PLANET: Earth
MAIN MISSION: [LOCKED]
CURRENT STATUS EFFECTS: Apostle's Blessing (Passive) [Immune to All Negative Status Effects] Divine Regeneration (Passive) [Instant Healing]
WORLD DEMISE: 6 Days, 12 Hours, 16 Minutes, 31 Seconds
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ UPDATE ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
SUB-MISSION UNLOCKED: 『 Locate Orlando De Von Deus 』
TIME LIMIT: 2 Days
PENALTY UPON FAILURE: Death
Additional Information: [LOCKED]
Hint: Look for the Scholar of Forgotten Names
Current Location: Unknown
COMMENCE MISSION? [YES] / [NO]
Ino stared at the floating window, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.
Two days to find a complete stranger… or die permanently.
"Of course," he muttered. "Can't even grieve properly."
He looked down at the small grave beneath the cherry tree.
"I have to go," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'll come back… I promise."
The wind gently rustled the branches above him, almost like a sigh.
Ino stood, brushing dirt from his knees. His golden eye caught the sunlight and flared.
He reached out mentally and selected [YES].
SUB-MISSION ACCEPTEDTracking Initiated... Please Wait...
Ino turned his back on the grave, on everything he had ever known.
WORLD DEMISE: 6 Days, 12 Hours, 14 Minutes, 07 Seconds
SUB-MISSION TIME LIMIT: 1 Day, 23 Hours, 59 Minutes, 52 Seconds
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Initial tracking complete.
Directive: Travel to Mistwood University Library Scholar Orlando De Von Deus – last confirmed location: 3 days ago.
Warning: Location may be compromised Survival Rate: 34%
Good luck, Apostle. Your God is watching.
[END OF CHAPTER 5]