ARC 1 BEGINS:
The underground laboratory remained in a cold silence, apart from the dull hum of erratic neon lights. The air had a fresh and clean scent. Dispersed upon the steel surfaces were pieces of shattered technology, arcane diagrams, and remains of experiments never brought to completion.
Ashok settled back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the smooth surface as he gazed at the artifact lying before him.
A ring.
It seemed ordinary at first glance—an old silver band, its surface bearing faded, unreadable inscriptions. And yet… something was off.
It glowed softly. As if it were alive.
"The hell did I bring back?"
"Whatever method I tried, equipment got shattered, can I even unlock it?", he wondered.
Puffing out air, he extended his hand. The instant his hand wrapped around the band—
BOOM.
An involuntary release of power burst out. Ashok's chair scraped backward as a hidden energy crowded the space. The walls creaked. Air distorted. Neon lights jagged wildly, casting displacing shadows.
Then—something happened.
A wisp of unnatural blue fire swirled out of the ring, coiling into shape. Gradually, it took form—
A small, hovering form.
Chibi-like in appearance, with tiny horns, a cloak much too big for its small frame, and a scowl that hardly succeeded at intimidation. Cheeks puffed out, arms crossed, it floated inches from the desk and proclaimed in a voice that rumbled between thunder and squeak:
"BOW, MORTAL! I AM THE STRONGEST IN ALL OF EXISTENCE!"
Silence.
Ashok gazed. Then, he blinked.
He looked at it from top to bottom and then, deadpan:
"Are you some broken toy my dad constructed?"
The spirit wavered. "W-WHAT?! NO! HOW DARE YOU—"
Ashok picked up a screwdriver from the workbench and prodded its forehead.
The spirit yelped.
"Yep. Definitely defective."
"HEY! I SAID I'M THE STRONGEST!"
Ashok threw the screwdriver down, exasperated. "Right. Strongest in the world, but you're fun-sized. Makes sense."
The spirit snarled, tiny fires dancing around its tiny body. "You dare taunt me?! Do you even know who I am?!"
"Not interested, chibi."
"MY NAME IS—" The spirit stiffened.
A slow silence.
Its expression changed into realization.
"Wait. Who am I?"
Ashok raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You don't know?"
The spirit waved its minute hands, pressing its head as if attempting to dig memories from nothingness.
"I… I only remember one thing. I am the Spirit of the Ring of Greed."
The words alone caused a slight shudder throughout the room.
Ashok's hands tightened instinctively on the arm of his chair.
"Greed? Sounds about right."
The spirit let out a sigh and drifted a little nearer. "Listen, mortal. There are four seals on this artifact. Each of them limits access to my full power. The one who made it made certain the more you learn about it… the more you are corrupted. No matter how powerful you are, that does not happen. It is inevitable."
Ashok furrowed his brow. "So, if I inquire of you—"
"The corruption grows. But… for the next twenty-four hours, I can keep it in check. If you need information, now's your only opportunity."
A clock ticking. The pressure of the decision bearing down on Ashok's mind.
"Fine." He leaned forward. "What can this thing do?"
The spirit paused, then grumbled, "In its present form, it's unfinished. But the current power it holds is that the ring digests Prism-level artifacts, disassembling them for power. It can borrow the power of the absorbed artifact for a short time, but with consequences. The more artifacts it consumes, the nearer its real potential unlocks."
Ashok examined the ring, spinning it in his fingers.
"And its special ability?"
The spirit paused once more before grumbling, "One ability for now. A one-time technique with a three-day recharge."
Ashok waited.
The spirit flatly refused to say more.
Sigh. "So let me get this right. You consume artifacts. You don't remember jack-squat about yourself. And you arrive with a self-inflicted curse?"
The spirit nervously nodded. "Yes."
Ashok pulled a hand down his face. "Great. I'm stuck with a freeloading, amnesiac glutton. Just my luck."
"I'M NOT USELESS!"
"Name one thing you're useful for right now."
The spirit puffed out its small chest. "I can… um."
Silence.
Ashok grinned. "Thought so."
The spirit groaned. "Ugh. Why did I have to end up with a guy like you?"
The air in the laboratory dropped to frigid.
A whisper, black and laughing, came from the shadows of the room.
"You say that… but you've only met one"
The spirit stood still.
The shadows became heavy. Shift in the air.
Phantom.
His very presence engulfed the room in crushing dread.
A crooked smile crept across his face. "More information… hmm? Let's try that."
Before the spirit could respond, Phantom attacked with a barrage of questions.
The spirit shrieked.
For the next minute, sheer psychological agony was played out.
Phantom's questioning was merciless. His voice wrapped around the spirit like a coil, extracting every detail, every secret, every morsel of information it had ever possessed.
The spirit thrashed, hardly having time to absorb the questions before another slammed in.
"ENOUGH! NO MORE QUESTIONS! NO MORE!" it keened.
Ashok took over and grumbled, "Phantom, that's enough."
Phantom let go of the spirit, and it collapsed in midair, totally exhausted.
Ashok, who'd checked out entirely of this reality, nonchalantly checked his communicator.
A mission alert.
"Tch. Time to roll."
He got up, yawned. "Okay, fun's done. We got work."
And then—another shift.
A presence colder. Sharper. More clinical.
A snap.
The room pressure shifted.
Raven.
Relaxed posture. Measured voice. Eyes without any warmth.
"You've met the idiot. You've met the info freak. Now meet me."
He moved forward, and the laboratory seemed tiny. The walls were nearer.
The flames of the spirit danced wildly, as though attempting to break free.
Raven took a deep breath. "Lesson number one: fear is an instrument."
He held up a hand.
A lever was activated.
The walls moved. A secret room appeared.
Inside—
The five bosses of the crime syndicates dangled in twisted poses, their own hands gripping their own pulsating hearts, sustained in torment for seven days—no food, no water.
The spirit ran out of breath.
"W-What the hell…?"it gasped.
Raven began counting down.
"Five."
The prisoners flinched.
"Four."
Their veins strained.
"Three."
Serums shot into them. Their bodies cramped, revitalized to maximum energy—without repair.
"Two."
Their arms were torn from their sockets.
"One."
A final crack.
Their skulls cracked. Their own hands shredded their brains—a slow, torturous death.
This was still not over.
With one final pull, the room ignited.
A deep, controlled fire slithered from hidden vents, licking at the exposed flesh of the syndicate leaders. But this was no ordinary flame—it was designed to burn slow, ensuring that every nerve remained alive, every moment stretched into eternity.
They didn't die instantly.
They weren't allowed to.
The flames devoured them inch by inch, the agony prolonged to the absolute last breath. The chamber reeked of burning flesh and muffled screams—until silence fell, leaving behind only charred remains and a ghostly ember glow.
The spirit stared, its tiny body trembling.
The spirit drifted back, shaking. "Why am I stuck with you psychos?"
Ashok smiled.
"Welcome to the team."
The spirit's small, defeated voice whispered—
"I want a refund."
Ashok stood in front of his desk, methodically packing gadgets, guns, and emergency supplies into his inventory system. The lab's drab neon light cast jumping shadows around the room as he packed.
The spirit of the ring drifted alongside him, arms folded, observing with increasing bewilderment.
"You've been ramming things in there for five minutes."
Ashok did not answer, flipping a red prism-tier relic nonchalantly into the emptiness.
The spirit drifted nearer, scowling. "How the hell does it all fit?!"
Ashok shrugged. "Spatial compression."
The ghost's eyes tightened. "Nah. That's some bullshit. How can humans achieve something about space compression without any help of a higher being?"
"You higher beings always think you're untouchable," he said, shutting the inventory with a snap. "But humans? We don't need immortality or godlike power."
He turned to the spirit, eyes sharp.
"We survive. We adapt. We take the impossible and make it work. Give us fire, we build civilizations. Throw us into chaos, we turn it into opportunity. Lock us in a losing battle, we rewrite the rules."
The spirit floated back slightly, silent.
Ashok smirked. "Space compression? Just another problem we solved."
Then, grabbing his coat, he slung it over his shoulder. "Now, are you done freaking out, or do I need to start charging rent for all the space you're taking up?"
The spirit moaned theatrically. "Ugh, I swear, I'd be better off trapped in a tomb than with you."
Ashok laughed, flipping a coin in his hand and then catching it.
"Welcome to my life. If you don't like it, then leave."
Ashok took the ring and put it on his finger.
A pause of silence.
The spirit turned away, muttering. "That's not the point."
Ashok smiled. "Thought so."
As they exited the lab, Ashok flipped through his communicator, re-reading the mission briefing. The spirit drifted along with him, now ominously silent.
In a few seconds, Ashok looked at it.
"You need a name."
The spirit fluttered an eye. "What?"
"You don't remember your own, do you?" Ashok stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Might as well get you one."
The spirit paused, then mocked. "Please, like any name you'd come up with could possibly live up to my greatness—"
"Glitch."
The spirit froze. "What."
Ashok tilted his head slightly, smirking. "You're an ancient spirit with amnesia, unstable powers, and a cursed existence. Sounds like a glitch to me."
The spirit twitched. "That is the dumbest name I've ever heard—"
"You got a better one?"
"…I refuse to dignify this with an answer."
Ashok chuckled. "Glitch it is."
Glitch groaned, rubbing its tiny face. "Fine. But if I ever regain my memories and my real name turns out to be something godly, I'm blaming you for ruining my legacy."
The station was poorly lit, the icy air filled with the smell of steel and machinery. Ashok paced along the platform, his footsteps echoing off the tiles.
Glitch drifted alongside him, still getting used to its new name.
Ashok looked at the train, the doors hissing open.
He climbed aboard.
Glitch and Ashok had a conversation of how the mission's gameplan is and then Glitch asked a question out of curiosity.
"So," Glitch grumbled, folding its arms. "Where are we heading, then?"
Glitch trailed behind, but before Ashok could respond—
The train dived into a tunnel.
For an instant, the world was engulfed in darkness.
Then—
A flash of blinding light.
Everything disappeared.