The past was distant, yet it loomed over him like a shadow.
Three years had passed since his creation—a twisted mockery of life, shaped by the ambitions of madmen.
Now, he stood in his dimly lit quarters, appearing no older than a tenth grader, though his mind had long since outgrown the fragile shell he inhabited.
In his hands, he toyed with a metallic alloy—smooth as gold yet possessing a dark, chaotic hue.
A stolen treasure, one he had risked everything to acquire.
The Death Factor.
A crystallization of supernatural energy.
Not mere magic, nor simple energy—it was the essence of those who stood closest to death.
The lingering power of beings who ruled the boundary between life and the abyss.
The touch of Thanatos, the one fated to guide souls beyond.
The authority of Hades, the keeper of the underworld.
The grasp of Hel, whose dominion stretched over the dying.
Even the feared Shinigami, silent reapers watching from the unseen.
This was the very same existence that had been forcibly woven into him—forming an unnatural fusion of mortality and the abyss.
And tonight, he would use it for something new.
His plan was simple: bring ruin to the laboratory that had shackled him for so long.
But to do that, he needed to act carefully.
The researchers, though arrogant, still took precautions.
Around his neck, a cold metal device pressed against his skin, ready to send out a signal the moment he activated his abilities.
A leash, ever-tightening, ensuring his compliance.
He looked at his hands, feeling the stolen Death Factor's weight pressing against his palm.
It wasn't enough.
He needed something more.
He needed to make sure nothing would go wrong in his escape.
As a servant, akin to a butler, he had seen nearly every room in the facility.
One room, in particular, stood out—the vault containing a crystallized essence of the divine, born from the remnants of beings who embodied absolute power.
It was not just a relic but a fragment of something far greater—an inheritance of the sacred, carrying the will of those who had once defied the natural order.
A Sacred Factor.
His theory was straightforward yet volatile: the Death Factor and the Sacred Factor were opposing forces, one embodying decay, the other the divine.
If the two were to collide… an uncontrolled reaction was inevitable.
The energies would clash and spiral out of control, resulting in an explosion.
As he gazed through the small, barred window of his quarters, he saw the moon at its zenith.
The silent witness to his impending rebellion.
Tonight, it begins.
The door to his room creaked open, his steps calculated, noiseless.
He moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, heading toward his destination.
The hallway turned a corner, and then—
"Isn't this Failed Subject No.1?"
He halted, breath steadying.
Before him stood a devil.
Not just any devil—one of the successful subjects of the Death Factor integration.
Five had survived.
Five had emerged with terrifying abilities.
This one in particular… Hisame.
Life Span Manipulation.
A single touch from Hisame could strip away ten years in an instant.
Prolonged contact?
A death sentence.
Hisame's crimson eyes studied him, slow and deliberate. Not with malice—no, something worse.
Amusement.
A cold flicker of curiosity, the kind that turned people into playthings.
"Hisame-sama."
He bowed slightly, keeping his expression blank—a perfected facade, honed through necessity.
"Why are you still awake at this hour?"
"Conrad-sama requested his laundry be done at night to avoid the noise disturbing his rest."
A blatant lie.
But a plausible one.
Hisame tilted his head slightly, as if weighing whether or not to entertain the deception.
Then—
His hand lifted.
Fingers extending.
Slow. Measured.
The space between them shrank, breath by breath.
Too close.
The tips of his fingers hovered between his eyes, a fraction away from touching skin.
The air itself felt wrong—thicker, heavier.
A warning screamed in the back of his mind, every nerve on edge.
He forced his body to remain still.
His muscles locked.
He could not afford to react.
Not now.
The seconds stretched unbearably.
Hisame watched him, lips curling in something that wasn't quite a smirk.
Then—
His fingers pulled away.
"Tch… you're no fun."
He turned, footsteps fading into the distance.
Only when silence returned did he exhale, his fingers subtly shaking as he clenched them into fists.
He turned back to his path, his resolve hardening.
This life isn't for me.
The destination was within reach.
The vault door loomed before him, its thick, reinforced metal glowing faintly under artificial lighting.
He pressed his palm against it, feeling the faint hum of the energy contained within.
His prize was inside.
As the door creaked open, his gaze landed on the Sacred Factor—an unassuming piece of yellow metal streaked with white energy, cycling in an orderly rhythm.
He stepped closer, retrieving the Death Factor from his pocket.
The instant he neared the Sacred Factor, something pulled.
His hand tensed. His entire body reacted.
A violent pulse rippled through the Death Factor—unstable, ravenous.
It wasn't just the fragment in his grasp.
Something deeper responded.
The Death Factor inside him howled in resonance, clashing against the presence of the Sacred Factor.
The air grew thick, charged with an invisible force.
A low hum filled the room—then a crackling, like distant thunder caged within metal.
A tremor ran through his fingers.
His breath hitched.
This wasn't mere opposition. This was war.
The forces weren't just reacting.
They were tearing into each other, frenzied, seeking dominance.
Something had to give.
His lips curled into a grin as he stared into the swirling light.
Proof.
And if his theory was correct…
The moment they collided, the world would know.