Control Center, Schatten Bereich
"We have received a report..."
The voice of a solemn Soldat rang through the control room, where multiple screens displayed live data feeds from the battle. Stark white panels illuminated the dimly lit space,casting harsh shadows on the tense faces of the Quincy soldiers.
"The six Sternritters have lost."
Disbelief spread like a silent plague among them. Their hands trembled over the controls, eyes flicking between the erratic, near-incomprehensible spiritual pressure readings displayed on their screens.
The battle in the Human Realm had pushed their surveillance drones to their limit.
The spikes in reishi output were unlike anything they'd recorded before. Bazz-B. Candice. Giselle. Bambietta. Liltotto. Meninas. Their power signatures had reached peak levels during the fight.
But one reading overshadowed them all.
Alex Mercer.
A power so monstrous that the very limit of their data-storage capacity had been breached.
Then came the next devastating report.
"Casualty report… Sternritter Bazz-B and Bambietta Basterbine are dead. The rest have suffered severe injuries."
Silence.
Even the most hardened Quincy in the control room stopped breathing for a moment.
Only one man remained unmoved.
Ås Nödt.
Standing behind them, his presence was like a black stain on reality—a void of emotion.
His voice was cold, precise.
"These fools… What were they thinking? Barging into the Human Realm without His Majesty's consent?"
A sigh escaped him—one filled not with sympathy, but disdain.
He raised a gloved hand to his temple, rubbing it as if dealing with an intolerable nuisance.
Then, his voice dropped into a commanding monotone.
"List that in the Daten… Alex Mercer is now a War Potential. He is to be taken seriously."
The soldats snapped out of their shock and immediately moved to comply.
Ås turned away from them, stepping toward the hallway leading out of the control center. His mind had already shifted from failure to next steps.
As he passed the towering pillar near the entrance, a figure leaned lazily against it.
Mask de Masculine.
Though he usually radiated confidence, today there was none. His fists were clenched, his usual bravado replaced with grim understanding.
Ås stopped next to him, barely giving him a glance.
"Mask, assemble a squad of soldats from the Medical Department. We're going to pick them up."
Mask exhaled sharply, then pushed himself off the pillar with a slow, reluctant nod. He didn't need to ask what Ås really meant.
He already knew.
"From the look on your face," a smooth, familiar voice cut in from the side, "it seems like their little unsanctioned attack ended in shambles."
Ås stopped, turning slightly to the third observer.
Askin Nakk Le Vaar.
He had been loitering just outside the control center, as if waiting for confirmation of what he already knew. His arms were crossed casually, posture relaxed—his smirk betraying his lack of concern.
Ås narrowed his eyes.
"You don't seem very concerned at all, Askin."
Askin shrugged.
"Why would I be concerned with those who went behind His Majesty's back?"
His tone was nonchalant, dismissive.
"Besides, given what just happened? I think I'm glad I never went with those poor fellows."
Ås let the words hang in the air for a moment.
Then he tilted his head, just slightly.
"You were at the Gate of the Sun when Bazz-B and the others departed. You could have stopped them."
A statement, not a question.
A thin smile crept onto Askin's lips.
"Now, now… you wouldn't accuse me of complicity, would you?" His voice was mockingly amused, but his eyes were sharp.
Then, his smirk faded slightly, and his expression took on a rare hint of seriousness.
"To be honest?"
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I was stuck between stopping them or joining them."
His tone carried an uncharacteristic weight.
"We've already lost our future heir. We can't afford to lose more Sternritters. But Bazz-B and Haschwalth were like brothers—who could blame him for wanting Mercer dead immediately?"
Then, the smirk returned.
"Thankfully, I'm a rational man. And as a rational man? I always take the third option."
Ås narrowed his eyes.
"Which was?"
Askin grinned.
"Let them be on their little quest for revenge while I sit back in the Control Center and watch how it unfolds."
A pause.
Ås stared at him, his gaze unreadable.
Then, in a voice that was nearly a whisper, he murmured:
"You are as shrewd and cruel as ever, Askin Nakk Le Vaar."
Askin gave a mock bow.
"Shrewd? Yes. Cruel? Well… that depends on perspective."
A sudden presence entered the room.
Mask de Masculine reappeared between them, standing firm.
"The squad is ready at the Gate of the Sun. His Majesty has granted permission to retrieve the fallen."
Ås nodded once.
"Very well, Mask. We depart for Karakura Town."
He turned toward the exit—but before he could take a single step, a voice called out.
"Hold up."
Askin.
He took a few leisurely steps forward, placing his hands into his coat pockets.
"I think I'll go with you."
Mask frowned, clearly taken aback.
"You? You wanna see Mercer that bad?"
He said it with thinly veiled skepticism, as if he still saw Askin as some small-fry manipulator who had no place in this battle.
Askin smiled.
"Oh, I don't plan on fighting him. I just think it'd be fun to see what all the fuss is about. You know, a little scientific curiosity."
His tone was playful, but something about his eyes was not.
Ås glanced at him for a moment longer.
Suspicious .
The moment Yhwach returned in defeat, Askin hadn't seemed concerned about their Majesty's well-being.
The moment he let Bazz-B and the others depart, Ås had already begun watching him.
What are you really after, Askin Nakk Le Vaar?
Ås kept his thoughts to himself.
Instead, he gave a simple answer.
"Be my guest."
With that, the three departed for the Gate of the Sun.
And though none of them said it, they all knew—
A confrontation with Alex Mercer was inevitable.
Onose River, present time
The tension in the air was suffocating.
Mask de Masculine gritted his teeth as Mercer sat casually, cross-legged, completely unfazed by their arrival.
His challenge felt like an insult.
"Inexcusable."
Mask stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. His golden luchador mask reflected the dim, flickering street lights as his voice boomed with righteous indignation.
"How dare you paint us as cowards, expecting us to attack you at once?!"
He pointed directly at Mercer.
"I will fight you alone, and I will do so on behalf of the Wandenreich!"
Mercer's eyes glinted with something dangerous.
Excitement.
He immediately stood, his body loosening up, shifting into a combat stance.
But just as Mask was about to take the first step, a black-gloved hand blocked his path.
Ås Nödt.
The tall, masked Sternritter had barely moved, yet his outstretched arm commanded absolute authority.
"Stand down, Mask."
His voice was cold, sharp, absolute.
"Do not forget why we came here."
Mask clicked his tongue, his frustration obvious, but after a brief moment, he reluctantly backed away.
Ås turned to Mercer, his eerie, unreadable gaze locked onto him.
"Alex Mercer."
His voice held no hostility, no challenge.
"We are not here to fight. We came to retrieve our fallen comrades—both the living and the
dead."
His expression was unreadable behind his mask.
"Behind you are our fallen brethren. We ask only that you allow us to recover their bodies for a proper… 'burial.'"
The way he said 'burial'—as if it held a different meaning entirely.
Mercer turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the lifeless figures of Bambietta and Bazz-B.
A small smirk formed on his lips.
"Sure."
He waved a hand lazily.
"Let your jockeys pick them up."
Ås gestured to four soldats standing by.
Two teams of two hurried forward, carrying stretchers. But as they approached Mercer, something primal in them hesitated.
The air around him was thick, heavy, suffocating.
This was their first time seeing him up close.
It would also be their last.
Askin's brows furrowed.
Something was wrong.
Then—
"ÅS, MASK, GET BACK!"
A flash of red-black flesh.
Mercer's right arm morphed—a grotesque, serrated appendage extending and elongating into a barbed, spear-tipped tendril.
Whipfist.
The air howled as Mercer swung it in a vicious circular arc.
"AAAAAGH—!"
The four soldats never stood a chance.
The Whipfist sliced cleanly through them, bisecting their torsos in a spray of blood and severed limbs.
Ås would have been next—
If not for Askin and Mask pulling him back at the last second.
Ås stumbled backward, his knee hitting the pavement as he looked up at Mercer—his mind racing, trying to regain control.
For the first time, his calm composure wavered.
Mask trembled with rage.
"How dare you, coward?!"
His voice was boiling over with fury, his golden mask glinting under the moonlight.
Ås, however, was colder.
He inhaled sharply, regaining his composure.
"May I ask what that attack was about, Mercer?"
Mercer rolled his shoulders, the Whipfist retracting back into his arm.
"They're not your brethren anymore."
His voice was calm, absolute.
"And even if they were, your so-called 'proper burial' is an insult to the dead."
His eyes narrowed, his tone darkening.
"If you want their bodies back… you're gonna have to go through me."
Silence.
Then—
A shift in the air.
Ås slowly rose to his feet.
His posture was still calm, still controlled.
But something had changed.
The subtle tension in his frame.
The way his fingers curled just slightly.
This was no longer about the mission.
This was personal.
"Very well."
His voice was icy, but beneath it lurked something more dangerous.
"If that is what you desire… then I shall grant you a taste of what you truly fear."
A ripple of reishi surged around him.
Above him, the air tore apart as multiple black thorns formed, suspended in the sky.
Askin blinked.
Wait. Really?
He turned to Ås with mild exasperation.
"Weren't you the one saying not to attack him?"
Mercer simply sighed.
He looked at the thorns with mild disappointment.
"Are you sure you want to try that?"
His voice was almost bored.
"I took a bunch of those earlier."
Ås did not reply.
The thorns suddenly fired at high speeds.
Impossible to dodge. Impossible to block.
SHNK !
They struck.
Mercer felt the piercing impact from all sides.
"This changes nothing—"
Then he stopped.
Something was wrong.
His vision blurred.
His thoughts… tangled.
His body wouldn't move.
"What…?"
His breath quickened.
He tried to process what was happening—
But suddenly, he couldn't tell what was real.
Ås Nödt stood tall, his unwavering gaze locked onto Mercer's shaking form.
"Your mistake… was assuming my attack is meant to kill."
Mercer's breath hitched.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
His mind—his rationality—was slipping.
Fear.
It crawled into his bones, digging in like hooks into his very soul.
"Just a single wound…" Ås murmured, his voice slow, deliberate, merciless.
"That is all it takes."
Mercer collapsed to one knee.
"I… I can't move…"
He clenched his teeth, but—
The world around him warped.
His perception crumbled.
His thoughts—his very understanding of reality—was fracturing.
"I can't tell which is which…"
"What is… real?"
A dark whisper slithered into his mind.
A drowning abyss.
Limitless.
Unrelenting.
"All human beings have things that cause them comfort, and things that cause them fear. When they enter a place that brings them comfort, they cannot form a clear answer as to why they feel comfortable there. They'll only say things like 'because I do.' But when they enter a place that causes them fear, even the dullest of fools can identify the causes. Darkness, cold, height, confinement, pain, contamination. The list is endless. This is because, at the most fundamental level, 'comfort' leads to 'life,' while 'fear' leads to 'death.' People can give countless reasons why they do not wish to die, but struggle to explain why they want to live. This doesn't just apply to sentient beings with emotions. It is the nature of all life to avoid death, and, by extension, to avoid 'fear.' All living beings go through life to evade fear. It is through this evasion that they train themselves. It is to escape fear that they grow and evolve. Thus, no one can remain unaffected by fear as long as they are alive."
Ås Nödt made his sermon about the philosophy of fear as he confidently approached the immobile Mercer.
Askin, however, felt something was off.
That was it? No, something isn't right here. Usually, anyone caught by Ås Nödt's thorns would be trapped by his Schrift, losing control of their actions. But Mercer wasn't immobile—he should be writhing in chaos, not standing there. Wait… there was a sudden surge of spiritual energy, skyrocketing off the charts. They were all using their full power… But Mercer was doubling his own…
Then it hit him.
Oh no...
A fatal realization dawned on him.
"ÅS, IT'S A TRAP!"
Mask, still confused, didn't understand why Askin suddenly warned Ås. But the warning came too late. Mercer suddenly stood up, grabbing Ås by the cloak.
"Fear? You call that fear?" Mercer sneered at Ås before throwing him toward Mask, who caught him easily.
Impossible! Ås thought, his eyes wide with disbelief. How could he overcome my fear in such a short time?
"You know, one of the most dangerous aspects of a Blacklight virus isn't its mutations, infectivity, or lethality. It's its adaptability. That's how I defeated your master, because I adapted to his ability to change the future. That's how I escaped from Soul Society, adapting to their Shikai and Bankai. That's how I escaped the Dangai, adapting to its dangers. That's how I defeated your so-called 'brethren,' adapting to their Heilig Pfeil and Schrifts. And that's how I escaped from your ability, because I adapted to your pseudo-fear."
Mercer smirked, his tone dark and sharp. "You were talking about how fear shapes our lives. Let me ask you something: Have you ever experienced true fear? Because what you just did was an insult. I hate insults. And what do you call fear? That's not true fear. That's a superficial thought, created by how you perceive fear. Your fear is nothing compared to the fear of six million people screaming for their lives as I take them, in hopes of creating a deathless world where I rule over everything."
The last statement drained the enthusiasm from Mask. His façade of being a hero of justice shattered, replaced with an overwhelming sense of dread.
This... He's not a villain... He's a monster... He's DEATH wearing a human skin named Alex Mercer.
Askin, on the other hand, felt something stir inside him—the spark of admiration.
Six million people? All by yourself? What Yhwach failed to achieve in nearly a millennium… You did in two years. You accomplished more than what our leader tried to do. All by yourself. How magnificent.
As for Ås Nödt, his rage flared again.
"I WILL NOT BE LECTURED ON THE MEANING OF TRUE FEAR BY THE LIKES OF YOU!!!"
He flaunted a medallion in front of Mercer, his anger boiling over. Two columns of swords erupted from the ground between them, scattering into petals of sakura flowers.
"SENBONZAKURA KAGEYOSHI!"
Without hesitation, he directed the sharp petals toward Mercer. But Mercer did nothing to defend himself, simply standing still as the petals approached.
"WHY? WHY? WHY?" Ås screamed in confusion and fury. "How are you not being torn apart?!"
Mercer continued to approach, unbothered by the sharp petals. The Senbonzakura petals suddenly scattered into reishi. Mask, gripping Ås' arm holding the medallion, forced him to calm down.
!!!
A sense of terrifying foreboding washed over all three of them. Mercer's spiritual pressure surged tenfold. Askin, recognizing the catalyst, hesitated, unsure if he should warn them.
"I expected more of a challenge from you three. All I got was a disappointment," Mercer taunted coldly, looking at Ås.
With a flick of his hands, Mercer fired hardened tendons toward Ås. The stunned man could do nothing but watch as the tendons rushed toward him. In a split second, Mask intervened, pulling Ås out of the way and placing two fingers on the side of his star-shaped mask.
"Star Flash!"
He fired a star-shaped energy beam, intercepting Mercer's tendons. The beam was strong enough to pierce through most defenses, but Mercer's Critical Pain slowed it down just enough to allow the tendons to keep coming.
Mask took the full brunt of the attack, stumbling back as the tendons hit him. He braced himself with his arms, using his Blut Vene to shield himself from the impact.
"Ås, we need to leave," Askin urged urgently.
Ås, realizing the gravity of the situation, conjured a shadow behind him and carried the dazed Mask. He gave Mercer one last contemptuous look.
"I'll never forget the humiliation you've brought upon me today. Mark my words, I will hunt you down," Ås threatened before disappearing into the shadow portal.
Askin was the last to remain, but before he could leave, Mercer called out.
"HEY, LANKY MAN!"
"It's Askin," he corrected flatly.
"Send this message to your Majesty," Mercer said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I'll be waiting for him at the Royal Palace. When he arrives, I'll make sure there's a place for him to die."
Askin shuddered at the chilling words. How did he gain access to the Royal Palace? Did he plan this all along?
"You sure are an interesting fellow," Askin remarked with a wry smile before vanishing into the shadows.
Mercer turned to Bazz-B and Bambietta, still unconscious despite the farce earlier. With ease, he carried both of them away from the river, disappearing without a trace.