One hour after Zumi had told Bia to begin the Kogane Dragon Gang in the Slums of New York City, she arrived at the slums. The air is thick with rust, smoke, and whispered threats. Narrow alleys twist like veins through the slums, lit only by the sickly orange of broken street lamps. Bia steps into this world with the quiet weight of purpose — her golden eyes scanning the shadows that hide both danger and opportunity.
Her long coat flutters as she walks, the gold threads along its edge glinting faintly under the flickering lights. The scent of metal, sweat, and cheap liquor burns in the air. Children scatter at her passing; men on corners glance once, then look away. They feel it — the pressure that hums from her like the edge of a storm.
Bia thought to herself, "Zumi… you sent me here to build strength from rot. I'll turn this decay into a throne."
She pauses at a street vendor's stall, slipping a single coin across the counter.
"Information," she says. "Top four gangs in this pit."
The vendor eyes her carefully, sensing both danger and divinity. He lists them:
Black Flame — Kings of the underworld, ruthless and organized.
Iron Saints — mercenaries turned extortionists.
Blood Rats — unpredictable, swarm-like, always desperate.
Bulldogs — brutal, loud, and territorial.
Her lips curve into a thin smile. "Then I'll start with the bottom."
A System Overlay Appears before here:
[Celestia: Linked Subsystem Active]
Mission Directive: Establish Dominance — Kogane Dragons
Target: The Bulldogs Gang (Tier IV)
Objective: Subdue or Absorb.
Status: Initiate Contact Sequence.
The transparent golden UI hovers before her eyes, flickering faintly — a reminder of her bond to Zumi.
She stares at it, brows furrowed.
Bia (thought): "Again… this thing. Ever since I surrendered to him, it's been appearing. His will made visible."
For a heartbeat, she wonders if it's her imagination — then she feels the pulse through her chest, the same pulse she'd felt the night she knelt before him, offering her strength to his cause.
Bia (softly): "So this is what it means to be bound to him. His vision flows through me."
She finds it after sunset — an abandoned auto garage at the edge of the slums, walls tagged with snarling dog graffiti and old bullet holes. Laughter echoes inside, mixed with the bass of cheap music and the clink of bottles.
She stands before the entrance, wind tugging at her coat, hair shifting like strands of light in the dark.
Then — another flash.
[System Overlay Update]
Objective Locked: Enter and Conquer
Host Compatibility: 98.9% — Divine Strength Synchronization Stable
Zumi-Link Resonance Detected
"For his empire to rise, I must first break the ground beneath me."
She smirks faintly, reading the words as they materialize — Zumi's words echoing through the System like divine scripture.
"…Then let's begin," Bia said.
She steps forward — the first spark of the Kogane Dragons igniting in the dark.
The slums of New York never slept — they smoldered.
Oil fires licked the gutters. Steam bled from cracked pipes. The air reeked of smoke, rust, and desperation. Every sound — every shout, every clink of bottles — was a reminder that power here was measured in fear, not respect.
And tonight, that fear belonged to one man — Drex Vane, the Fist of the Slums.
At the center of it all stood the Bulldogs' stronghold — an abandoned auto garage fortified with steel gates and graffiti that screamed BULLDOGS DIE HARD. Inside, the gang's heartbeat pulsed in music and violence. Men trained bare-knuckled, bottles shattered against the floor, and the metallic scent of blood hung thick as incense.
At the far end of the garage, under a flickering bulb, Drex Vane lounged in a cracked leather chair like a king on a throne made of oil and ruin.
He was massive — tall, muscular, his body a mural of jagged tattoos that told the story of every man he'd killed. Black braids were tied back into a tight knot, gold rings gleaming in the low light. His leather jacket, fur-collared and lined with studs, hung loose around his shoulders.
His eyes — amber, sharp, feral — scanned the room like a predator's.
A smile, crooked and dangerous, played at the corner of his mouth.
Around him stood the Bulldogs' Five Fangs — his most elite.
Each one radiated a different kind of menace.
TY "STEEL" GRAVEN, Vice Commander — stood at Drex's right hand, calm and unmoving.
A mountain of a man with a clean-shaven head, steel-gray eyes, and skin the color of ash and smoke. A long scar ran down his jaw to his collarbone, a permanent reminder of the knife fight that earned him his title. He wore a dark trench coat and thick steel gauntlets that gleamed faintly under the light. His knuckles bore the letters STAY DOWN.
Ty never spoke unless it mattered. His silence was heavier than threats.
To Drex's left leaned DRAE "RATCHET" MORROW, First Division Commander — wild, restless, with eyes that never stopped moving.
He was leaner, wired like a coil of adrenaline, tattoos crawling up his arms in jagged mechanical shapes. A pair of custom steel batons hung at his belt, both wrapped in cracked tape. The left side of his head was shaved clean, the rest a mess of dark curls that looked like he'd forgotten to sleep for days.
He smelled faintly of oil and firecrackers.
Behind him, KAI "BLAZE" STRYDER, the Second Division Commander, chewed on a toothpick and grinned at every fight that broke out in the room.
Golden-brown skin, crimson hair slicked back, a chain hanging from his belt with brass detonator rings. His forearms bore burn scars — gifts from his own experiments with micro-combustion strikes. When he moved, faint embers followed his hands like dust.
"Blaze" wasn't a name — it was a warning.
Next was VIN "ECHO" RELL, the Third Division Commander.
He barely looked alive.
Tall, wiry, wearing a sleeveless black hoodie, his veins pulsed faintly with blue energy. His movements were fluid, soundless — like he existed half a second faster than reality. His eyes were narrow, always calculating. Rumor said Drex had found him after he killed his entire crew in less than five seconds during a territorial dispute.
And then there was LUKA "VIPER" RAHN, Fourth Division Commander — the quiet one.
Medium height, long black hair braided back, his sharp features gave him a reptilian grace. His eyes were cold, detached.
He wore a long brown coat lined with knives sewn into the fabric. The faint smell of venom hung around him — a special toxin he brewed himself from alley serpents. His hands were adorned with golden rings — each concealing a small, deadly needle.
Together, they formed Drex's inner circle — the wolves that made the pack.
Drex leaned back, exhaling smoke from a cheap cigar. "So, tell me," he said lazily. "Any word from the east side?"
Ty answered in that low, gravel tone of his. "Iron Saints took another block, boss. But they won't push past our territory. Not without losing fingers."
Drex's smile widened. "Good. Let 'em bark. We'll bite later."
The room buzzed with nervous laughter. That was when the gate creaked open.
Every sound died.
Through the orange haze of light and smoke, a woman walked in — alone.
She wasn't tall. She wasn't loud. But the air shifted as she entered, like the world itself was exhaling.
Long black hair framed a sharp face, her eyes glowing faint gold under the slum lights. She wore a fitted coat, the kind you'd expect on someone who'd walk through fire and not smell of smoke. There was a scar faintly visible near her collarbone, but it didn't diminish her — it made her look ancient, as though she'd seen centuries pass in silence.
The gang stared. Then laughter erupted again.
"Yo, boss," one man snorted, "looks like a lost kitten stumbled into the den!"
"Or maybe she's here to entertain us," another shouted, and the room roared with filthy laughter.
But the woman didn't react. Her eyes moved — slow, unhurried — from one jeering face to another until they settled on Drex Vane. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady and low, carrying enough command to cut through the noise.
"I'm looking for Drex Vane." "The Bulldogs are mine now."
The laughter stopped as if someone had cut the sound out of the world.
Drex rose to his full height, towering above her. He smirked, his gold chains clinking as he took a step closer. "Bold words, kitten. You think a few threats and pretty eyes make you queen here?"
"I don't think," she said. "I know."
And then — a flash of light. A faint golden overlay flickered across her vision.
[Celestia Directive: Active] Mission: Establish Dominance Objective: Conquer or Destroy**
She didn't flinch. Ever since Zumi had given her this task — and she had surrendered herself to him completely — these golden symbols had started to appear. Little pieces of his will, guiding her hand.
Drex laughed once — sharp and cruel — and raised his hand. "Kill her."
Nine hundred men moved as one.
The first wave hit like a flood. Bia didn't step back — she stepped through. Her fist struck the nearest man in the chest — a dull crack — and he went flying into the crowd. The second swung at her neck; she ducked under, elbowed his ribs, and twisted. Bones snapped. She didn't stop moving.
Each strike was a sentence. Each motion was final.
She weaved between them like a golden blur — striking, blocking, breaking. A knife came down from behind — she caught it without turning, snapped the blade, and drove the broken hilt into his shoulder.
Men screamed. Metal clanged. Walls cracked.
But she moved like a god walking through mortals. Her punches sounded like thunder, her kicks like explosions. Within minutes, hundreds of bodies lay scattered across the floor — groaning, bleeding, defeated.
By the end, not a single man stood.
Bia exhaled softly. Not one drop of sweat on her skin.
Drex's smirk faded into something cold. He stared at the fallen, at the ruin of his empire — and then at her.
The commanders looked on, their expressions dark and conflicted.
Vin "Echo" broke the silence first. "She didn't even breathe hard…"
Kai "Blaze" spat, eyes wide. "She's not human."
Ty crossed his arms, saying nothing — but his jaw clenched.
Drex's voice broke the stillness. "You disappoint me," he growled, low and venomous. "You all do. Nine hundred men brought down by one woman."
He spat on the floor, then pointed at her. "Fine. Let the real Bulldogs show their teeth."
The Five Fangs stepped forward.
Drae "Ratchet" Morrow was the first to charge. His twin batons spun like blurs, the air whistling with every swing. Bia sidestepped, her palm flashing forward — a single blow to his chest sent him crashing through a rusted car hood.
Kai "Blaze" came next, fists blazing with fire. He roared, swinging wide arcs that exploded on contact with air. She moved through the inferno unharmed, caught his wrist, and shattered his detonator rings in her grip. One backhand — and he was out.
Vin "Echo" vanished in a sonic blink. But her hand was already raised. When he reappeared, she caught his arm and slammed him into the concrete before he could blink again.
Luka "Viper" slithered forward, knives flashing with venom.
She caught the blade between two fingers, crushed it, and drove her knee into his chin. He hit the wall and didn't rise.
Ty "Steel" Graven stood alone, rolling his shoulders, eyes grim.
He charged, his fist slamming into her jaw hard enough to crack the floor beneath her. Dust rose. For a heartbeat, hope flickered in Drex's chest.
Then the dust settled — and she was still standing, eyes steady.
"That's it?" she asked.
Her counterpunch folded Ty in half. He didn't get back up.
The room trembled with Drex's rage. His aura exploded outward, crushing air, making every loose bolt in the walls hum. The tattoos along his arms glowed faint red. He tore off his jacket and cracked his neck, lips curling into a snarl.
"You're strong," he said. "But I'm Drex Vane. The Fist of the Slums!"
He moved — faster than any eye could follow. A sonic boom split the room as his Supersonic Fist shot forward.
To everyone else, he vanished. But to Bia — he was moving in slow motion.
She caught his punch with one hand.
The shockwave rippled through the floor, tearing cracks through the concrete, yet she stood motionless.
Drex's eyes widened. He tried to pull back. He couldn't. Her grip was unyielding.
"You mistake speed for strength," she said softly.
Her palm touched his chest. The impact was gentle — almost merciful. The result wasn't.
The sound echoed like thunder. Drex hit the ground, choking for air, his body trembling. For the first time in his life, he wasn't angry — he was afraid.
He stared up at her — this woman who had broken his world with one hand — and something inside him cracked.
"…What are you?" he whispered.
Bia looked down, eyes glowing faintly gold. "I am force," she said. "And Zumi sent me here to build something greater than fear."
She turned and walked past him, her boots clicking softly over the bodies of fallen men. Behind her, Drex knelt — the Fist of the Slums, broken but alive.
"…Teach me," he said.
The System notification, glowing in the air like scripture, appeared before Bia.
[Mission Complete] Objective: Establish Dominance — Success. Result: The Bulldogs have submitted to the Kogane Dragons. New Faction: Kogane Dragons — Slum Division Commander: Bia, Goddess of Force and Strength. Vice Commander: Drex Vane. Awaiting Zumi's acknowledgment…
The slums had a new master. And the age of the Kogane Dragons had begun.