"Leaving already?" Michael asked, standing beside Shan as Mama's Fangs finished packing.
The sun rose behind them, spilling gold through the trees as if the forest itself had decided to smile.
The cold metal of the truck slowly warmed under the morning light.
"Yeah," Alice said, offering a smile just as warm. "We've got to meet up with the rest of the team."
She pulled Michael into one last embrace.
"Be careful," Michael said, extending his hand for a handshake—but Alice ignored it and hugged him again before climbing into the truck.
"Oh—Eda. Good morning." Michael turned as Eda approached.
"Good morning, Michael," she said with a bow. Then, turning to Shan: "Master, breakfast is ready."
"Perfect," Shan replied. "Shall we?"
Michael followed him through the gates just before they closed.
In the truck's rear-view mirror, Alice watched them disappear—her smile lingering longer than she expected.
"Okay," Jax said after a beat. "I'll be the first to say it."
"What?" Alice glanced back.
"You hugged Shan."
Leo leaned forward. "Yeah. Like—hug hugged."
"Isn't that normal?" Haruka asked.
"Normal?" Jax echoed.
"Yes," Alice said flatly. "It is."
"I've never seen you hug anyone besides us," Hana added. "Except Haruka."
"Whaaaat?" Alice smirked.
"That's true," Mika chimed in. "I helped too. Where's my hug?"
Alice turned, grabbed Mika's head, and kissed her forehead.
"Thank you, Mika."
The truck went dead silent.
"So… when's the marr—"
"I'm going to kill you," Alice said, cutting Jax off without looking at him.
She leaned her head against the window, smiling despite herself.
The truck rolled to a stop at an abandoned shopping mall.
"This the place?" Mika asked, hopping out.
"Hopefully," Alice replied, slinging her shotgun over her shoulder.
Broken glass, rusted escalators, and hollow storefronts greeted them.
The mall felt like a corpse—empty, forgotten, but still watching.
"Well?" Jax asked. "Where to now?"
"Down," Rhea said, eyeing the collapsed lower level.
"I'll go first," Haruka said, handing his sheathed katana to Hana.
"Mama's Fangs?"
The voice froze them all.
A man stepped forward from behind the escalator. "Relax. Phillip. Therma sent me."
"Crap," Haruka muttered. "I'm stuck."
"I got you," Jax said, hauling him out.
Phillip led them through an emergency stairwell into a reinforced basement door.
"The last Therma base?" Alice asked.
Phillip nodded. "Only the General knew about it. If everyone had, it wouldn't still exist."
The door opened.
Screens lit the massive underground space—command tables glowing blue, med bays buzzing, soldiers moving with purpose. Therma was wounded, but alive.
"Feels like home," Leo said quietly.
"Alice," Phillip said, "the General wants to see you."
She nodded, motioning to Haruka. "You too."
The General greeted them with a firm handshake. "You must be Alice."
"Sir." She saluted.
"And you," he said, turning to Haruka. "The rumors were true. The Masks do exist."
Before Haruka could respond—
"That thing—!"
An old man burst into a coughing fit, eyes locked onto Haruka.
"I forgot," the General sighed. "He knows… a lot."
"The mask is a curse," the old man spat. "A gift from the gods themselves."
Silence fell.
"My grandson wore one," he continued. "After losing his parents. It tormented him. Until he appeared."
"Thorne," Haruka said.
The old man nodded. "I traced its origin. Edo period. A ronin named Hikari Majjiku. Lost everything. Then lightning answered him."
"How do we kill Thorne?" Haruka asked.
"Only one way," the old man said. "Self-destruction."
He explained the energy—limitless, star-level. A detonation. No survival.
"You won't live," he added. "Just like my grandson."
Haruka tightened his grip on the mask.
"Let's go," Alice said, pulling him into an embrace. "We'll find another way."
Even as she spoke, doubt crept into her voice.
The halls were swallowed in crimson—thick carpet muffling every step as the towering doors loomed before William.
He paused.
At his sides stood two maids in immaculate black, motionless. William's arm rested in a cast, his face stitched together with bandages that barely hid the scars beneath. He exhaled once.
The maids pushed.
The golden doors groaned open.
Inside, Thorne sat upon his throne.
Doctors in white lab coats moved quickly around him, disconnecting tubes that ran from his body into a massive black apparatus humming softly behind the seat. Steam hissed as cables were unplugged one by one.
William stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowing until it brushed the carpet.
"My lord," he said. "I bring troubling news… I think."
"Neutrals?"
Thorne's voice rolled through the chamber—deep, steady, absolute.
William rose. "One of our scouts spotted a vehicle carrying Haruka. They entered an abandoned mall."
Thorne stood, already shrugging into his tailored suit. The fabric hid what no longer resembled a human frame—his body sculpted, unnatural, divine in its cruelty.
"Which direction did they arrive from?" Thorne asked, walking past William as though the question were routine.
"A Chinese-style mansion," William answered. "My lord."
Thorne entered a control room lined wall-to-wall with glowing monitors, blue light reflecting across his face. One screen flickered to life—displaying Raito's mask.
A smirk tugged at Thorne's lips.
"And Raito?" he asked.
"We—"
The thunder of helicopter blades tore through the air, cutting William off.
William smiled faintly. "Perfect timing… if I may say so."
They turned toward the sound.
"My lord," William said carefully as they walked, "what was the purpose of sending only those two after Haruka? We could have overwhelmed them."
Thorne didn't slow.
"It was a reminder."
"A reminder of what, my lord?"
Thorne reached for the door.
"To remind him that he is—"
BOOOOM.
The earth split.
Raito crashed into the courtyard, knee-first, the impact shattering stone and sending prisoners scrambling in terror. Flames erupted from the fractures, crawling like living veins across the ground.
His axe scraped behind him, its blade igniting the earth with every drag.
Heat radiated from his body, visible even beneath the merciless sun. His eyes burned crimson—thick, violent, alive.
"The Prince of Aesthetic City!"
Thorne called out, arms spread wide as if welcoming a lost heir.
"Come, my son. Return to your father."
Raito rose slowly.
He walked.
Each step scorched the ground beneath him.
Above, the helicopter dipped low, its door sliding open. Evelyne leapt down, landing hard while hauling an unconscious Kierah over her shoulder. Her gaze snapped to Raito—then to Thorne.
Raito stopped.
His head lowered.
Disappointment.
Thorne stepped forward and cupped Raito's face. The moment his gloves made contact, they ignited, steam screaming into the air as the heat consumed them.
"You've made me proud," Thorne whispered.
Raito's eyes widened.
"You have not failed me," Thorne continued softly.
"You still have one more chance."
Raito trembled.
"But first," Thorne murmured, glancing toward Evelyne,
"cool down. We must be respectful guests for our next visit."
William blinked. "Visit? My lord—who are we visiting?"
Thorne turned away, already walking back inside.
"An old friend."
Mama's Fangs' car screeched to a halt in a narrow alleyway, the tires carving dark scars into the cold sand resting beneath the night sky. Above them, the stars glittered faintly, indifferent.
Distant jersey club music thumped through the silence, muffled and distorted, bleeding out from somewhere beyond the crumbling buildings ahead. One structure stood out immediately—too loud, too bright—like a sore thumb dipped in neon.
"I'm guessing that's the place?" Jax said as he jumped out, grabbing his bags from the back.
"Yep. Let's move," Alice replied, stepping into the alley's mouth.
The others followed, checking their weapons, loading quietly out of habit.
"Haruka, you coming?" Hana asked, pausing.
Haruka sat frozen in the car, eyes unfocused. He blinked, snapped back to reality, and hurried out without a word.
With every step forward, the music grew louder—heavier—until neon light burst between the narrow buildings, washing the alley in electric blues and greens.
"To think clubs still exist in this day and age," Alice muttered, stopping in front of the towering building.
Its walls bled color. Blue shifted to green. Green melted back into blue. The lights reflected off their faces, warping them.
"I mean," Leo said, "they don't have to worry about Obsidian. Or zombies."
The group stepped inside—and were immediately stopped.
"No weapons."
The voice came from a woman sprawled lazily in a neon-blue chair. A cap shadowed her eyes. Long black trousers, heavy boots propped casually on the table in front of her.
"We're with Therma," Alice began. "We're looking for—"
"No weapons," the woman repeated, cutting her off.
"We're just trying to find someone," Hana added.
"I know," the woman said, finally sitting upright. The cap still hid her gaze.
"We're Neutrals," she continued. "Doesn't matter who you are. Doesn't matter who you're looking for."
She leaned back again.
"No weapons beyond this point."
The group exchanged glances.
Jax scoffed. "Great. So we're naked."
"Not naked," Alice corrected, unclipping her shotgun and resting it against the wall beside the entrance. "Just… honest."
One by one, Mama's Fangs disarmed.
Metal kissed concrete softly—knives, pistols, magazines—all surrendered to the quiet authority of the woman at the door. Hana hesitated the longest, fingers lingering on the grip of her blade before finally letting go.
The security woman nodded once, satisfied.
"Enjoy the night," she said, pressing a button beneath her desk.
The doors slid open.
Sound hit them.
Bass thundered through bone and blood, the kind of rhythm that didn't ask permission—it claimed you. Jersey club beats tore through the air, distorted and aggressive, layered with laughter, shouts, and bodies colliding in motion.
Heat followed. Then light.
Neon pinks and electric blues spilled over the crowd, painting skin in unreal colours. Holographic strips pulsed along the ceiling, syncing perfectly with the music. Smoke crawled low across the floor, broken only by boots, heels, and bare feet dancing through it.
For a moment, Mama's Fangs stood still.
Watching.
"Damn," Leo muttered. "Almost forgot what this felt like."
Mika's eyes sparkled. "It's beautiful."
Hana rolled her shoulders, loosening up. "Smells like sweat and bad decisions."
"Home," Jax said with a grin.
Waitresses weaved effortlessly through the chaos, trays balanced with glowing drinks and sealed nutrient packs. As two passed by Hana and Mika, they paused—smiling mischievously.
"On the house," one of them said, slipping flower accessories into their hands. Neon petals, artificial but warm to the touch, faintly glowing.
Mika blinked. "For… us?"
"First time here?" the other waitress asked.
Hana smirked. "That obvious?"
They laughed and vanished back into the crowd.
Mika clipped the flower into her hair, beaming. "Okay, yeah. I like Neutrals."
Music surged.
Someone grabbed Hana's wrist.
"Come on," Mika said, already pulling her toward the dance floor.
"H-Hey—!"
Too late.
They were swallowed by bodies.
The floor moved like a living thing, people jumping, spinning, colliding, losing themselves. Mika danced without hesitation, laughter spilling freely as Hana—after resisting for exactly three seconds—gave in.
She moved sharply, confidently, letting the beat take control.
For the first time in a long while, neither of them were soldiers.
Just people.
Alice watched from the edge, arms crossed, scanning the room out of habit. Jax leaned beside her, nodding to the rhythm.
"See?" he said. "No guns. No orders. No apocalypse."
Alice exhaled. "Doesn't mean we drop our guard."
"I didn't say you had to relax," Jax smirked.
That's when it happened.
A man stumbled into Hana—harder than necessary.
She caught herself, eyes snapping up.
"Watch it," she said.
The man laughed, drunk or high, eyes lingering too long. "Didn't mean to interrupt, pretty thing."
Mika stepped forward instantly. "She said—"
The man reached again.
That was enough.
Jax moved before Alice could.
One clean punch.
The man crumpled, crashing into the floor as the music never stopped.
The crowd recoiled for half a second—then resumed dancing, stepping around the unconscious body like it was part of the décor.
"Jax," Alice warned.
Before it could escalate, slow clapping echoed nearby.
"Well," a voice drawled, amused and sharp, "that's one way to make an entrance."
A man stepped forward from the shadows of a VIP stairway. Expensive jacket. Clean boots. Eyes sober and calculating—nothing like the others.
Hana stiffened.
Alice turned fully now.
"And you are?" Alice asked.
The man smiled thinly. "Someone you've been looking for."
He glanced at the fallen man, then back at Jax.
"My father's been expecting trouble," he continued. "Didn't think it'd come dressed like this."
Alice met his gaze, unwavering.
"Good," she said. "Then you won't be surprised when we ask you to take us to him."
The man studied each of them—counting, measuring.
Finally, he laughed.
"This night just got interesting."
The group followed the man through the neon haze.
He was in his mid-twenties, wearing bright blue sunglasses despite the night, a white blazer draped over his shoulders like he owned the world. White pants. Clean shoes. Too clean for Aesthetic City.
"I'm Aris, by the way," he said, stopping suddenly and turning around.
Alice nearly bumped into him.
"Nice to meet you, Aris," she replied.
He smirked and turned back around. "Aris Kryphos."
"That's a weird name," Jax muttered.
"Yes," Aris replied casually. "Viking descent. Ancestors of ancestors."
They stopped at a long pink hallway glowing under soft neon lights. At its end stood a set of black double doors, tall and imposing.
Alice glanced at them. "I'm guessing this is it?"
"My father," Aris said, stepping forward. "Zenos. He's been… stressed."
He knocked.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Locks clicked. The door opened just enough for Aris to slip his head inside. Muted voices murmured. Then Aris pulled back.
"He'll only see one of you," he said.
Alice stepped forward immediately.
Inside, the room was wide and pristine. Marble floors. White walls. A long red couch sat unused beneath a massive window overlooking the city.
In the far distance, Obsidian's stronghold pierced the skyline.
A man stood by the window in a red gown, holding a glass of whisky.
"Father," Aris said. "As requested. Only one."
The man turned.
He was built like war itself — scarred, muscular, his blond goatee and short hair framing a face carved sharp as stone.
"And you are?" he asked.
"My name is Alice," she said, extending her hand.
"Alice," he replied coolly. "I'm—"
"Zenos," Alice interrupted.
"The only man who shook Thorne's hand and lived to tell the tale."
Silence.
She lowered her hand. "It's an honor."
Zenos studied her. "You must be Therma's General."
Alice hesitated. "I'm not. I'm here to repre—"
"I agreed to speak with the General," Zenos snapped, pulling his hand back.
"Not you. Please leave."
"Sir, please—"
"No."
"FATHER." Aris stepped forward.
The word echoed.
"That's Mama's Fangs," Aris said firmly. "Therma's best. The fact that they came at all means your worst fear is already true."
Zenos looked away.
"You know what happened at the Market," Alice said quietly.
Zenos stared out the window. "It's not true. Obsidian wouldn't—"
"And yet you were desperate to meet Therma," Alice interrupted, stepping closer.
"Because the idea that Obsidian betrayed you won't leave your mind."
Aris clenched his fists. "They threw the first punch."
Alice nodded. "Your silence only feeds them."
She turned toward the door.
"Instead of calling for Therma's General," she said, pausing,
"become the General of the Neutrals."
"Wait."
Zenos didn't turn around.
The truck roared down the road, music blasting, laughter breaking through the tension.
Until—
SCREECH.
The truck slammed to a stop.
Ahead of them, Shan's gate was flooded in Obsidian purple — guards packed shoulder to shoulder, weapons raised.
And at the center of it all…
A massive shadow stepped forward.
Slow. Burning.
Surrounded by soldiers.
Silence swallowed the night.
A few hours earlier.
Michael sat quietly on a wooden chair overlooking the main courtyard garden, where the leaves whispered softly as they swayed. Eda stood behind him, gently brushing his long blond hair, her movements unhurried.
The ground trembled.
At first, it was subtle—barely noticeable—but then the distant sound of tires tearing through dirt grew louder, closer, until it rolled through the estate like an approaching storm.
"Are they back already?" Michael asked, turning slightly toward Eda.
She paused, confused. "It's too early."
Rosemary hurried past them, her expression tight. "That's not them."
The rumbling stopped.
Then—
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
The violent knocking echoed through the mansion, rattling windows and nerves alike.
"Again?" Eda muttered, standing abruptly.
"Who is it?" Michael asked.
"Obsidian," Rosemary answered. "Stay here. We'll get Master."
They rushed off.
Michael remained seated for only a second longer.
"…Obsidian, huh," he murmured.
He stood and headed for the gate.
With a single pull, the gate swung open.
Something enormous stood before him.
The figure eclipsed the sun, casting Michael in shadow as though daylight itself bowed. Fear flooded his body—raw, instinctive, paralyzing. His breath caught in his throat.
"Good evening," the man said.
The voice was deep and crushing, heavy with authority—as if it had commanded armies, crushed kingdoms.
Michael's hand trembled on the gate. "G… good evening."
Gold tuxedo. Midnight-purple cape billowing behind him. Hair slicked back to perfection. And eyes—white, empty, smiling without warmth.
"And whom might you be?" the man asked.
"I'm… Michael."
A slow, knowing smile curved across the stranger's face.
"Michael," he echoed. "A pleasure. I'm—"
"Thorne."
Shan's voice cut through the tension as he approached.
"Thorne Graystone."
Thorne turned, his smile widening. "Bai Shan. In the flesh."
Michael stepped aside as the two men clasped hands—then embraced.
"It's been a long time, my friend," Thorne said.
"Indeed," Shan replied with a quiet chuckle. "Come. Let's catch up. I'll have tea prepared."
They walked side by side into the mansion.
Behind them, Obsidian soldiers poured through the gates, weapons raised. Among them strode Evelyne—scythe in hand, white ponytail immaculate, armor gleaming beneath the lights. Her eyes scanned every corner, every shadow.
For a brief moment, her gaze met Michael's.
Then she turned away.
Tea steamed gently between Shan and Thorne as they sat across from one another.
"So," Shan said, lifting his cup, "what brings you here after all these years?"
Thorne stared into his tea, then chuckled softly. "Do you remember high school? When you told me about the masks?"
Shan stiffened slightly. "I do. Especially our first hunt."
Thorne smiled. "Aesthetic Creek. Camped all night. Got scared by a fox."
They shared a laugh—thin, brittle.
"Tell me, Shan," Thorne continued, voice lowering. "Why did you tell me about the mask?"
Shan didn't answer.
His gaze shifted—to the garden. To Michael.
Thorne followed his line of sight.
"What truly brings you here?" Shan asked, eyes narrowing.
Silence stretched.
Then Thorne sighed. "Privacy."
Evelyne bowed and withdrew.
Michael sat beside Evelyne in the garden. The wind tugged at the leaves above them.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
She didn't answer—only shifted slightly, making space.
"You don't look how you normally do," Michael said gently.
Her eyes flicked toward him. "And how would you know?"
"You remind me of someone," he smiled. "She always looks cold like that. Thought it suited you too."
For a moment, Evelyne saw her brother in his face.
"…When I'm sad," Michael continued, "I usually walk. Want to?"
"No," she whispered, tears forming. "I can't. I'm on guard."
"You may go."
Thorne's voice carried across the garden.
"Shh," he added sharply to Shan.
Michael and Evelyne walked away.
The sound of a car engine started somewhere beyond the estate.
Shan froze.
Eda leaned close. "Michael and Lady Evelyne just left."
Shan's eyes widened. "Where's Raito?"
Thorne smiled faintly. "Why does Raito concern you, Shan?"
Back to the Present
Mama's Fangs crouched in the bushes, watching.
"What the hell is Obsidian doing here?" Hana whispered.
"Language," Alice muttered—then grimaced. "But yes. That's a lot of them."
"Truck with the armored trailer," Mika said. "That new?"
"Binoculars," Alice snapped.
Jax handed them over.
Alice raised them—and dropped them instantly.
Michael was leaving the gate.
With Evelyne.
Alice bolted.
Guards surrounded Mama's Fangs in seconds.
Weapons clicked.
They were overwhelmed.
On a hill overlooking Obsidian territory, Michael stood facing the horizon.
"That's all I remember," he said.
Evelyne's voice trembled. "So you're really… my brother."
He turned, smiling through tears. "I knew you looked familiar, lil' sis."
She broke into him, sobbing.
"I thought you were dead."
"So did I," he laughed softly. "Turns out I'm twenty."
They sat together.
"I lied to someone," Evelyne admitted. "And I think I broke him."
"What would you say if he were here?"
"I'd say I'm sorry. That I just wanted him to wake up."
"Then say it when you see him again," Michael said. "He'll understand."
A shotgun clicked.
"MICHAEL!"
Alice stood behind them—bloodied, shaking, weapon aimed at Evelyne.
"Run!"
"Mother?" Michael whispered.
Boots thundered through the mansion.
Mama's Fangs were dragged before Shan.
Thorne stood.
"What did you say to me when you betrayed me?" he asked calmly.
"You regret discovering the mask."
Shan's breath hitched. "Where's Alice?"
"Dominoes, Shan."
Thorne turned.
His gaze locked onto Haruka.
"There," he said softly. "You have something that belongs to me."
"And so do you," Haruka replied.
Thorne chuckled.
Raito stepped forward.
The brothers locked eyes.
"I'm afraid," Thorne said, smiling,
"that trade is impossible."