Everything had fallen into an unnatural silence. The kind of silence that didn't feel peaceful—it felt heavy, suffocating, as if the air itself was holding its breath after witnessing something brutal. The battlefield, once filled with chaos, now stood broken and hollow. Cracked walls leaned dangerously, pillars lay shattered across the ground, and dust floated slowly through the air like fading remnants of destruction.
At the center of it all… were bodies.
Two cultists lay motionless on the cold ground, their lifeless eyes staring into nothing. They hadn't been killed by enemies. No—what made it darker was the truth. They had been poisoned… by their own companion.
A few feet away, the third cultist still clung to life.
Barely.
His body was covered in deep wounds, clothes torn and soaked with blood. Every breath he took sounded like a struggle, as if his lungs were collapsing with each second. His fingers twitched weakly against the ground, but he didn't have the strength to move.
And standing over him…
Was Skye.
Without a word, she placed her boot on his chest. Not lightly—firmly. Dominantly. Slowly increasing the pressure as if reminding him exactly who was in control.
Her face was calm.
Too calm.
"Now…" she spoke, her voice low and cold, cutting through the silence like a blade, "you will answer every question I ask."
The cultist didn't respond immediately.
For a moment, he just lay there… then slowly, painfully, he raised his head. His face was still hidden behind a torn piece of cloth. But even without seeing it, one could feel his gaze locking onto hers.
Then—
He spat blood.
Dark red drops hit the ground between them.
A broken laugh escaped his mouth. Weak… yet disturbing.
"Do whatever you want…" he rasped. "I won't tell you anything…"
Skye's expression didn't change—but something in her eyes shifted.
Her boot pressed down harder.
A sharp gasp escaped the cultist as pain shot through his chest. His body trembled, but the twisted smile on his hidden face didn't fade.
"I have no interest in keeping you alive," Skye continued, her tone as emotionless as ever. "The only reason you're breathing… is because of my captain's orders."
She leaned slightly closer, her shadow falling over him.
"Otherwise," she whispered, "my gun would already be against your forehead… and I would've pulled the trigger myself."
A pause.
"I wouldn't even hesitate."
Behind her, Leo and Ray stood frozen.
A cold shiver ran down their spines.
Leo leaned slightly toward Ray, his voice barely above a whisper. "At first… I thought maybe she's not Steven's daughter…"
Ray didn't even let him finish. He quickly raised a finger to his lips. "Shut up… do you want to die?"
But it was too late.
Skye heard them.
She turned her head slowly. Her eyes met theirs—and in that moment, both Leo and Ray felt their hearts drop.
"What are you two talking about?" she asked.
"N-Nothing," they both replied instantly.
She stared at them for a few seconds longer than necessary… then turned away, her focus returning to the cultist. But now, there was a visible edge of irritation in her expression.
Leo swallowed nervously.
Then, gathering some courage, he stepped forward.
"If we can see his face… maybe we can identify him," he said quietly.
Without waiting for permission, he reached down and grabbed the cloth covering the cultist's face.
And pulled it away.
Time… seemed to stop.
Skye's eyes widened.
Leo froze.
Ray stepped closer from behind. "What happ—"
His words died instantly.
The cultist's face… wasn't normal.
It was burned.
Severely.
The skin looked melted, twisted into horrifying patterns of scars and damage. One eye was half destroyed, barely functional, while the other stared back with a disturbing clarity. It was nearly impossible to recognize him as human.
And yet…
He smiled.
"Go on…" he muttered, his voice shaking yet filled with something unhinged. "Kill me… you worthless humans…"
Skye's grip tightened.
Her anger was rising—
Then—
Thak… Thak… Thak…
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Measured.
Echoing from the staircase.
Leo and Ray immediately tensed up. Their instincts screamed danger.
A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.
Then slowly…
It began to descend.
Each step he took carried an overwhelming presence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a perfectly balanced, powerful physique. His dark uniform, lined with sharp silver edges, gave off an discipline and nobility. But it wasn't just his appearance—
It was his presence.
Cold.
Dominant.
Unshakable.
The moment his foot touched the ground floor—
Leo and Ray attacked.
They didn't think.
They just moved.
A fatal mistake.
In less than a blink—
He disappeared.
The next second—
He was behind them.
BANG!
Their heads slammed violently into the wall.
Pain exploded through their skulls as they dropped to their knees, disoriented.
The person stood there casually, as if he hadn't even tried.
His gaze shifted to the two dead cultists… then slowly moved toward Skye.
And suddenly—
He smiled.
He raised his hand slightly and waved.
"Yo."
Skye didn't react.
Not even a little.
He walked toward her, hands in his pockets, completely relaxed.
"You know," he said casually, "there isn't a single person in the 6th Division who doesn't bow when they see me…"
He stopped in front of her.
"Except you."
Skye looked straight into his eyes. "Do you want me to greet you?"
He paused… then laughed softly.
A strange laugh.
"Not really," he said, smiling—a smile that was both charming… and dangerous.
"Good."
His attention shifted to the cultist.
"So… he's the last one?"
"He killed the other two with poison," Skye replied.
"Hmm…"
His smile deepened.
"Has he said anything useful?"
"No."
A small pause.
"Then I'll handle it."
Skye stepped back, removing her boot.
Now the captain turned his attention toward Leo and Ray, who were still recovering.
"And these two?" he asked.
"Father's students," Skye answered. "He assigned them to me."
The captain walked toward them slowly.
For a moment…
He just stared.
The pressure in the air increased again.
Then suddenly—
He extended his hand.
"Chris," he said. "Captain of the 6th Division."
Leo and Ray hesitated, then quickly shook his hand.
The moment they realized who he was—
They bowed deeply.
"Sir!"
Chris laughed and patted their backs.
"Relax… you'll break your spine like that."
But then—
Leo's eyes shifted.
The cultist.
Something was wrong.
"Sir—!" Leo shouted. "He's—!"
Skye turned instantly.
The cultist was biting down on his own tongue.
Hard.
Blood poured out of his mouth as he forced himself not to speak.
"Even if we die…" he muttered through the pain, "it doesn't matter…"
His voice cracked.
"The message… has already reached them…"
Before he could continue—
THUD!
Chris's kick landed directly on his face.
The cultist went completely still.
Unconscious.
Silence returned once again.
But this time…
It felt heavier.
Far away—
In a place untouched by warmth—
Snow fell endlessly from the sky.
A frozen wasteland.
In the middle of it stood a single house, almost completely buried under layers of snow.
Inside…
A man sat calmly.
In front of him were three stones.
Two of them…
Dark.
Lifeless.
The third…
Faintly glowing.
The man stared at them.
Then slowly…
He licked his lips.
A smile spread across his face.
"So…" he whispered.
"The game… finally begins."
His eyes gleamed with something unnatural.
"It seems…"
"My slaves are dead."