A dim, deathly glow filled the grand chamber, torches casting eerie flickers across rows of skulls neatly arranged like trophies.
At the center of the room, on a throne of blackened bone, sat Hades, the ruler of the Netherworld.
His skeletal fingers traced along the surface of a pristine, polished skull, turning it delicately in his hands as if admiring a rare gemstone.
He did not look up as a figure in a dark cloak knelt before him.
Pluto, one of the most feared of the Grim Reapers, bowed low, his massive scythe resting on the cold marble floor.
His voice, deep and steady, broke the silence.
"My lord, the world above shifts. A new force is taking shape in the shadows—one that may prove useful to us."
Hades did not respond immediately.
He continued to run his bony fingers along the skull's surface, almost entranced.
Then, in a voice as hollow as the grave, he murmured,
"Tell me, Pluto. Who seeks to challenge the balance?"
Pluto straightened slightly, his piercing gaze hidden beneath his hood.
"They call themselves the Khaos Brigade—a coalition of extremists, each with their own grievances against the current world order. Their leader in name is Ophis, the Ouroboros Dragon, but she is little more than a figurehead. Others hold true power."
Hades let out a soft, dry chuckle.
"Ophis... The infinite dragon who desires nothing but her empty throne in the Dimensional Gap. And the ones who wield power beneath her?"
"The Old Satan Faction is among them," Pluto continued.
"Descendants of the original Four Satans—Lucifer, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Leviathan—who refuse to accept Sirzechs and his new government. Their hatred for the current rulers of the Underworld is absolute. They dream of war, of restoring the past."
Hades sighed through his teeth, turning the skull slowly.
"Fools clinging to the ashes of a dead era. But useful fools, perhaps."
"There is more," Pluto pressed on.
"A new faction emerges—the Hero Faction. Led by a human, Cao Cao, the wielder of the True Longinus. He gathers others of his kind, descendants of legendary warriors. They do not seek war for power but for their own ideology—a world where humanity is supreme, unshackled from the gods, devils, and dragons that walk among them."
Hades' fingers stilled on the skull.
A long silence followed before he whispered,
"And what of the other factions? The strays, the lost souls?"
"Many have been drawn to Khaos Brigade's banner," Pluto confirmed. "Rogue Fallen Angels, stray Devils, even ambitious monsters from other mythologies. Each with their own reasons, yet all united under one goal—to dismantle the status quo."
Hades finally set the skull down on the armrest of his throne.
His gaze, cold and calculating, finally met Pluto's.
"Intriguing. A force composed of those discontent with the world as it is… Chaos breeding chaos. But chaos, my dear Pluto, is a tool for those who understand it."
Pluto nodded.
"Then, my lord, shall we observe? Or intervene?"
Hades stood, his imposing form casting a long shadow over the chamber.
"For now, we observe. Let them play their little games. Let them gnaw at the foundations of the world. And when the time is right… we shall take the pieces that remain."
A cold wind swept through the hall, carrying the whispers of the dead.
Pluto bowed once more, ready to take his leave, but before he could vanish, Hades' fingers clenched around the skull he had been admiring.
A deep, unholy crack split through the silence as the bone fractured beneath his grip.
"There is something else, Pluto," Hades growled, his tone now thick with disgust.
"Souls are vanishing before reaching my domain. Erased—completely. Not even their echoes remain."
Pluto tensed slightly. "Where, my lord?"
"In that human city under the Sitri's domain," Hades seethed.
"Something there defies the natural order, consuming what is mine before it can enter the cycle of death. Such blasphemy cannot be ignored. I will not allow my dominion to be soiled by forces that do not kneel before me."
His hollow eyes burned with malice as he turned his full attention to Pluto.
"Send the Reapers. I want them to investigate the cause. And should they find the hand responsible, I expect them to carve its name into the fabric of the Netherworld itself."
Pluto bowed his head. "It will be done."
Hades exhaled slowly, letting the fractured skull fall from his grasp.
It shattered upon impact, scattering fragments across the chamber floor.
"Good," he murmured.
"Now, let us see the truth of this wretched parasite."
——————✗—————
The last echoes of clashing blows and strained breaths faded into the quiet hum of the night.
Noel lay flat on the ground, his back pressing into the cool earth, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.
Training?
No, at this point, it was just physical torture disguised as "highly efficient combat conditioning."
He should've expected nothing less from this peerage.
The summer break was nearly over, but this… this week had stretched longer than any school term.
'At least it wasn't as bad as the first day.'
A shadow cast over him, blocking the faint glow of the moon.
"Noel-kun."
He blinked and tilted his head slightly.
Momo Hanakai stood above him, a bottle of water in her outstretched hand.
Her silver hair shimmered under the evening light, and though her face remained as calm as ever, the slight crease in her brow hinted at something close to concern.
"Here."
"Thanks," he muttered, sitting up with a groan before taking the bottle.
The cool liquid poured down his throat, refreshing him more than it should have.
Then—
A feeling.
Like something sharp brushed against the edges of his awareness.
A gaze—watching, analyzing.
His body tensed on instinct.
But in the same breath, it was gone.
Noel's eyes flicked toward the tree line.
Shadows stretched between trunks, their shapes shifting in the wind.
Nothing.
Beside him, Momo's voice pulled him back.
"Something wrong?"
He hesitated for a beat before shaking his head.
"No. Just… tired."
If she doubted him, she didn't show it.
Instead, she simply nodded, turning away.
"You should freshen up later and take a shower. Even with magic, nothing beats soaking in the water."
With that, she walked off, disappearing into the dimly lit camp.
Noel lingered for a moment, finishing the last of his water before stretching to his feet.
Across the training grounds, one figure remained—focused, unwavering.
Koneko.
Everyone else had already finished, yet she continued, her movements precise, methodical.
It would feel wrong to just walk away while she was still here.
So, I stayed.
As if sensing my decision, she glanced at me. "Wanna fight?"
I let out a small, wry smile. "I could, but shouldn't we rest first? Here, have some water."
She hesitated for only a second before nodding, then walked over and sat beside me.
A quiet atmosphere settled between us—not awkward, not heavy. Just... still.
The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled.
The air was cool against my skin, carrying the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.
The rhythmic chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl completed the scene, a stark contrast to the intensity of our earlier training.
It was peaceful in a way that made it easy to let down your guard.
At some point, I broke the silence.
"I guess I never really asked. You don't have to answer, but… why do you push yourself so hard?"
Koneko didn't look at me.
Her fingers curled slightly against her knee, barely perceptible.
"Weak people get left behind."
There was no hesitation in her voice.
No bitterness, either.
Just the plain, unshaken truth.
"I see," I murmured.
"I never really thought of it that way. Most of my life, I thought I was the same as everyone else. That the world was fair."
I exhaled, the weight of old memories pressing against me.
"It wasn't until recently that I realized how weak I was."
For a brief moment, Koneko turned her head, her golden eyes flicking toward me.
She gave the smallest nod before looking away.
I took a breath and pushed the lingering thoughts aside.
"Alright," I said, standing up.
"Shall we start?"
She met my gaze, nodded once more, and rose to her feet.
That was all the confirmation I needed.