The room was suffocating. Every breath they took felt heavier than the last, carrying the weight of exhaustion and desperation. Andreo leaned on his sickle, muscles trembling, his chest rising and falling with ragged gasps. Michael gripped his staff, knuckles white, eyes scanning every shadow for any opportunity.
They had pushed themselves to the brink against Mark, the self-proclaimed god of death. Each blow, each clash, had drained their stamina, and yet the small, closed room offered no escape, no room to maneuver. They were trapped in a cage of steel, concrete, and tension.
"What do we do now?" Andreo muttered under his breath, voice hoarse from exertion. He glanced at Michael, who only shook his head slightly. Both knew the answer without saying it: there wasn't anything left to do. Their rim—their energy, their capacity—was almost spent.
Michael exhaled slowly, gripping his staff tighter. "You… you really are a monster," he muttered, his gaze fixed on Mark. His voice carried awe and fear, a mixture of anger and respect.
Andreo's eyes narrowed. He tried to think of a plan, any move that could change the tide. With sudden determination, he lunged from behind, his sickle aiming at Mark's flank. But Mark's instincts were sharp. With a fluid sidestep, he avoided the strike, the black aura around him shifting like smoke.
"Why are you using child tactics?" Mark said, his tone almost casual. "One is talking to me, the other tries to sneak behind. Pathetic." His eyes, black and piercing, scanned them with an almost predatory precision. "You two have lasted… too much… against the god of death."
Andreo's teeth clenched, anger flickering in his eyes. "Self-proclaimed god of death," he spat.
"Shut up," Mark hissed, his voice a low growl. "What's your name?"
Michael straightened, his hand tightening around the staff. "I am Michael," he said, voice firm despite his exhaustion. "And he is Andreo."
Mark's lips curled into a smirk. "Good names," he said slowly, the words heavy with menace. "But you… have to die. You came here, and that choice seals your fate."
He paused, his black eyes narrowing as he seemed to drift into thought, but the pause was broken by a sharp scream from above. Both Andreo and Michael froze, shock radiating through their bodies.
"Who… who is that?" Michael murmured, barely able to believe what his ears had caught.
Mark's frown deepened, his attention momentarily split. Something in the scream had caught him off guard, a tiny crack in his otherwise unshakable composure.
---
Joi's Perspective
White powder coated Joi's hands as he steadied himself before the fall. The fine particles shimmered faintly in the dim light of the room, catching shadows and reflecting them in eerie patterns. His eyes glimmered with malicious intent.
"First… Mike," he whispered, almost to himself, fingers tightening around the powder. "Then… the others." The word others carried a weight beyond meaning—he meant kill, destruction, chaos.
His lips twisted into a smirk as he inhaled slightly, letting the scent of the white powder fill his lungs. The rush of it was intoxicating, dangerous, but he thrived on the risk. He had come prepared, calculated, waiting for the right moment.
---
Collision of Chaos
Mark, sensing the shift in the room, smirked at the presence of another fool willing to challenge him. He raised his scythe, the black metal glinting ominously in the dim light. With a swift, precise motion, he lunged forward, aiming at Joi with deadly accuracy.
But the moment his weapon made contact, the air changed. White smoke, thick and pungent with powder, erupted from Joi's hands. It filled the room, mixing with the faint haze of dust and the remnants of their previous clashes. Mark's lungs burned instantly, his instincts screaming for him to pull back. Breathing became erratic. His senses, normally razor-sharp, felt dulled, clouded, unbalanced.
Joi moved like a shadow, striking from the edge of the smoke. Mark barely managed to evade, his body twisting mid-air, scythe slicing through the dense haze. He landed hard, pain shooting through his limbs, consciousness flickering.
Andreo and Michael felt it too. The white smoke pierced their heads, a sudden, agonizing pressure pressing against their skulls. Their vision blurred for a moment, and they staggered, gripping their weapons tighter, struggling to focus.
Mark's voice was strained, a growl escaping his lips. "Who… are you?!"
Joi stepped forward from the smoke, powdered fingers glinting faintly. His grin was wide, dangerous. "I am… the King of Drugs," he said, voice echoing through the confined room, smooth and venomous. "And you… are about to learn what that means."
---
Aftermath of the First Strike
Mark staggered, sweat and smoke mixing on his brow. His black eyes, usually so precise, scanned the room wildly, searching for the source of this sudden, debilitating attack. His scythe remained raised, but his movements were sluggish, each step a careful calculation to avoid being overwhelmed.
Andreo's voice, strained with pain, cut through the haze. "Stay on your feet… Michael… we can't let him…" He swallowed, trying to suppress the ache in his head, the burning in his lungs from the powder-filled air.
Michael, shaking off the disorientation, nodded faintly, gripping his staff as if his life depended on it. Because it did.
Joi's grin widened. Every calculated step, every flick of his wrist, pushed Mark closer to exhaustion. The powder wasn't just a weapon—it was a psychological edge, a method to destabilize the god of death.
Mark's scythe slashed the air, sparks of dark energy emanating from it, but even as he tried to recover, the overwhelming presence of Joi's powder and the room's suffocating confinement pressed in on him. His consciousness flickered, threatening to fail him entirely.
Andreo and Michael exchanged a glance, silent but full of understanding. This was their chance—small, risky, and terrifying—but it was a chance nonetheless.
Mark staggered to the ground, hand clutching his head, his breathing ragged. "This… isn't… over…" he hissed, pain and fury battling for dominance in his voice.
Joi stepped back, the smoke beginning to thin as he watched, calculating his next move. "No," he said softly, almost to himself, "it's only just begun."
---
The air in the control room was thick — heavy with heat, smoke, and tension. Sparks from shattered machinery flickered like dying stars, casting brief flashes of orange against the steel walls. Every screen displayed fragments of corrupted data — Kaitō's vitals, red warning signs, and encrypted messages that only Samuel could read.
Kuro stood in the center, unmoving but radiating command. His hands were stretched slightly forward, and invisible threads of control ran from his fingertips into the minds of two people — Arthur and Kaitō's father. Their eyes were hollow, bodies trembling under the strain of being manipulated by Kuro's linking ability.
"Samuel!" Kuro barked, voice cutting through the chaos. "Do those things in the computers — now! Extract Kaitō's core data and separate his neural link from Fern's system! We'll hold him off!"
As Kuro's words faded, Samuel stumbled toward the nearest intact workstation. The screens were half-flickering, sparks jumping from the damaged cables, but he didn't hesitate.
His hands trembled over the console, inputting line after line of commands, rerouting power, disabling protocols. Sweat rolled down his temple, his focus absolute. The screens kept flashing ACCESS DENIED and OVERRIDE FAILURE, but he continued, gritting his teeth.
Behind him, Alexander smirked.
He stood tall and composed amid the chaos — a contrast of calm arrogance against Kuro's calculated fury. His eyes were sharp, reflecting the light of burning circuits like shards of obsidian.
"You really think I'd let that happen?" Alexander asked, voice dripping with mockery.
Kuro's eyes narrowed. "Sinon! Attack with your rope!"
Without hesitation, Sinon snapped open her suitcase. The rope — black, slick, almost alive — burst out, coiling through the air like a serpent. It sliced through the smoke, lunging at Alexander's torso.
At the same time, Arthur — under Kuro's control — rushed forward, eyes lifeless but movement swift. He jumped, twisting midair, his leg glowing faintly with rim energy as he aimed a kick toward Alexander's head.
Alexander caught the leg with one arm — a sound of bone snapping echoed.
Arthur's body went limp midair as his leg bent unnaturally. He hit the ground with a thud, body twitching, but Kuro's control forced him to rise again, the broken leg dragging behind like a puppet with snapped strings.
"Pathetic," Alexander said, almost disappointed. He shifted his gaze toward Kaitō's father, who was also charging forward like a machine under command. With a flick of his arm, Alexander redirected his momentum and kicked him square in the chest — sending him flying across the room, crashing through the doorway.
Sinon's rope tightened around Alexander's arm, glowing faintly blue. She gritted her teeth, pouring all her remaining rim into it. The fibers hissed, vibrating under strain, trying to pierce through his defense.
But Alexander twisted his wrist, pulling hard. Sinon gasped as she was yanked off her feet, slamming into a metal beam. The rope loosened. He seized the opportunity, swung his leg, and struck her midsection — the impact forcing the air from her lungs.
He turned toward Samuel next. "You shouldn't be touching things you don't understand."
Before Samuel could react, Alexander grabbed him by the collar and hurled him toward the control console. His body collided with the machinery, sparks flying as circuits shorted out, data feeds dying one by one.
Now, only Kuro remained standing.
---
The hum of the control room grew louder, unstable — like the heartbeat of the dying facility.
Alexander stepped closer, blood running down his cheek from a cut he'd received earlier. His aura was monstrous, dark energy radiating from him in pulses.
Kuro didn't flinch. He raised his eyes slowly, almost amused.
"It would be better," Alexander said, "if you'd brought that skull-mask guy. You really think you can give weaklings like these the burden of fighting me?"
Kuro tilted his head slightly, the faintest smile crossing his face. "You talk too much for someone who's already lost something."
Alexander frowned — and then noticed it.
A faint sensation around his right leg — tight, almost invisible. He looked down and realized something thin was coiled around his ankle. A fiber — nearly transparent, thinner than a strand of hair — glinted faintly in the light.
Before he could move, Sinon, still lying half-conscious near the console, whispered hoarsely, "Contract…"
The fiber pulsed.
Alexander's eyes widened as pain exploded through his leg — the fiber had contracted inward, slicing through his skin, muscle, and nerves like a surgeon's wire. Blood streamed down, splattering across the floor.
He snarled, instinctively slamming his hand against the console for balance. "You—damn—"
The fibers dug deeper. The sound of tissue tearing filled the room. For a moment, even Kuro's eyes flickered with something close to admiration. Sinon had used every last drop of her rim to make the fiber contract — to make it go inside the skin.
Alexander's voice broke into a roar. He swung wildly, his control slipping. With one desperate move, he grabbed a small computer device from the desk and hurled it toward Sinon's face.
The impact cracked across her cheek — the device shattered, sparks flying, and Sinon fell silent, unconscious.
Blood dripped steadily from Alexander's wounded leg, pooling on the floor. His breaths came heavy now, labored, trembling from the sudden pain.
He steadied himself against the wall, his face twisted in rage. "That damn girl…"
Then, from the doorway, came a sound of footsteps. Calm, deliberate.
Kuro turned his head.
The four members of Alane's group — Rose, Tina, Elke, and Louis — stepped into the control room, each carrying an aura that distorted the air around them.
Rose's knives reflected the flickering light. Tina and Elke, the twin red-haired women, stood side by side, unreadable expressions on their faces. Louis — the one in the hospital suit — adjusted the bandage on his arm, his eyes cold and sharp.
Alexander exhaled, forcing a smirk even through the pain. "So… this is my welcome party."
Louis stepped forward, looking from Kuro to Alexander. "So this is the Regan No.2 we're supposed to fight?"
Kuro's lips curled into a grin, faint and chilling. He turned toward Louis, his tone low and deliberate.
"Yes," he said. "That's him."
The smile widened — something predatory, something almost pleased.
"Go ahead," Kuro whispered. "Let's see if Fern's god can bleed a little more."
The room fell silent.
For a heartbeat, all that could be heard was the hum of broken machinery, the faint drip of blood, and the tightening of unseen threads — both literal and psychological.
And then Kuro's grin deepened, the kind that promised the worst was yet to come.
---
The white room stretched endlessly, silent as ever.
No light source. No shadow. Only the hum of nothingness.
Kaito sat there — motionless on the steel chair — his eyes half open. His breaths were shallow, like he was afraid to disturb the silence itself.
The purple-haired girl stood a few meters ahead, one of her eyes still hidden behind her hair, her lips forming a faint, knowing smile.
Then, for the first time in weeks, a sound broke from him.
A voice.
Low. Trembling. Barely human.
> "...Kuro... Alexander..."
Her smile widened. "You finally speak."
Kaito didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed somewhere far beyond the white wall — seeing memories that only he could see. The injections. The pain. The room of needles. The laughter. The endless tests.
> "They… made me like this," he whispered. "Kuro turned me into a monster… Alexander brought me here… from my parents… from my school…"
His voice cracked, and then sharpened.
> "Everything… gone. Because of them."
He lowered his head, hands trembling.
> "Kill…"
He paused, breath heavy.
"I'll kill them. I want revenge. As long as those scums live… people like me will keep suffering."
The girl's smile curved into something darker — almost proud.
She stepped closer, her voice soft, melodic.
> "That's it, Kaito. That's what you need. Hate. Purpose."
Her violet eyes shimmered.
> "Are you ready… for revenge?"
> "Yes."
> "Are you ready to kill… Kuro and Alexander?"
> "Yes."
She leaned closer, whispering in his ear like a promise.
> "Then give me your body, Kaito. I'll take revenge for you."
Kaito finally raised his head.
His expression was empty — no rage, no fear — only resolve.
> "No."
She blinked. "Why?"
He stood up from the chair, his white surroundings trembling slightly with his steps.
> "I'll take my revenge… myself."
Her tone changed — a trace of desperation.
> "But Kaito, you'll suffer again. You'll feel pain—"
Kaito's hand shot out, gripping her by the throat.
Her eyes widened, shocked — not by the strength, but by the intent.
> "It's time over… for being gloomy."
He tightened his hold. She gasped, her form flickering, her body cracking like glass.
And then— she shattered.
The white room dissolved into nothing.
---
Scene Change — Inside the Laboratory
Kuro gasped suddenly, his pupils shrinking.
Something snapped inside his mind.
A burning pain surged through his skull — the mental connection with Kaito… violently broken.
In front of him, the red-haired girl, Elke, had laid her hand on his shoulder.
Her calm expression barely changed as Kuro's body trembled, his control weakening.
> "What… what are you doing?"
Elke smiled faintly. "Just turning off your tricks."
Kuro's mind raced. She's erasing my rim link…? A specialist — a Rim Eraser!
He clenched his teeth, his thoughts spiraling.
> Damn… this is bad. That girl inside Kaito's mind… that wasn't another personality — it was my own creation. My linker ability.
I was trying to make him hand over his body to me, but now… if that link collapses completely, I'll—
He couldn't even finish the thought. The air in the room grew heavier.
Across from him, Alexander was watching, blood dripping from his wounded leg — trembling, yet smiling faintly.
> "Seems like your pawn woke up, Kuro."
---
Scene Shift — The Containment Chamber
Kaito's eyes opened.
Red light reflected off his pupils, turning them into glowing rubies.
Alia froze in place, her breath catching.
> "K-Kaito…?"
No response. Just those eyes — void of any humanity.
The air vibrated. Machines flickered. Power surged through the cables.
---
Back to Samuel's POV
Samuel sat before the central console, sweat sliding down his neck as he typed furiously.
> "Boss… extraction complete."
Kuro's voice didn't answer.
He looked at the main screen — the synchronization bars all flashing red.
> "Override… complete."
A chill ran down his spine.
---
Elsewhere alexander pov
He took one step back, his blood mixing with the shattered floor tiles.
> "No way…"
He realized it too late.
"He… he overrode the system."
---
The monitors flickered once more.
Two silhouettes appeared on Samuel's screen — unidentified. Unknown.
And yet… somehow alive.
> "What the hell…?" Samuel whispered.
"He… freed two others."
A sharp alarm blared through the facility.
Lights went out.
Darkness swallowed everything.