Chapter 20
The Dead Walk (I)
The air in Hell thickened as the ritual circle flared to life. Symbols etched in blood and shadow blazed, bending space itself into trembling arcs. At the center stood Maverick, his expression carved from stone, eyes reflecting both exhaustion and a hunger that seemed bottomless.
Zaratul knelt by the runes, his humanoid form shrouded in serpent-scale patterns, voice chanting syllables that clawed at reality. "The boundary weakens… the gate answers…"
Voldrack stood rigid, arms crossed, gaze fixed on Maverick. "This path is dangerous. Space is not a toy. Even I would not tear the realms so recklessly."
Maverick ignored him. His hand pressed against the pulsing circle, his Sea of Consciousness thrumming in resonance. "The vessels await. We'll take what we need."
The abyss shook. Light fractured into shards. For a heartbeat, Hell and Earth touched.
And then they fell.
Cold water swallowed them.
Maverick's eyes snapped open, lungs burning, muscles stiff. His body thrashed before instinct pulled him upward. When he broke the river's surface, the moon painted ripples in silver. Behind him, two more bodies surged from the current—Xin Min's lackeys, but with Voldrack and Zaratul peering out through their eyes.
The corpses that had been dumped days ago were whole again, wounds erased, veins pulsing with stolen vitality.
Maverick dragged himself onto the bank, coughing, studying the vessel he now wore. He flexed the fingers—Xin Min's fingers. The flesh remembered its former arrogance, the way it carried cruelty as naturally as breath.
"Crude," Maverick muttered, testing the voice. It was Xin Min's tone, but the cadence was too measured, too sharp. That would take practice.
Zaratul stumbled onto the shore, laughter spilling from his borrowed mouth. "Ugly in life, uglier in death. But strong enough to pass."
Voldrack followed, his distaste plain as he examined his vessel. "Fragile frames. They'll suffice for a disguise, nothing more."
Maverick closed his eyes, letting fractured memories seep in. A domineering father, whispered rumors of delinquency, the sting of shallow triumphs gained by breaking others down. Petty cruelty, cheap victories. Easy to mimic.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression was Xin Min's to the last detail. The tilt of the chin, the arrogance simmering beneath every glance. The perfect mask.
"This will do," Maverick said.
By morning, the world gasped.
Xin Min swaggered back through the school gates, cronies at his heels. Students stared, teachers whispered, and gossip roared louder than the bell.
"Xin Min?! I thought—"
"They said he ran off to join a gang."
"His parents must've bought him out of trouble again."
The simplest lie became the truth. No one asked where they had gone. No one wanted to.
Maverick slid into the role as though it had always belonged to him. He lounged at his desk, sneered at teachers, hurled lazy insults at passing classmates. The borrowed arrogance fit like a cloak.
Voldrack watched silently, analyzing. "Humans see only what comforts them. Convenient."
Zaratul smirked. "Their blindness is our veil. Let them choke on it."
But Maverick's eyes drifted, finding one boy at the edge of the classroom. Sung Ho sat rigid, pale, staring with wide, disbelieving eyes. His lips pressed together hard enough to draw blood. He didn't speak, didn't move—but his gaze trembled like a scream trapped in his throat.
Maverick's expression didn't falter. He looked away as though Sung Ho didn't exist.
For now.
That night, they regrouped in Xin Min's gaudy room, walls plastered with trophies of shallow victories and the stench of privilege.
Zaratul sprawled on the bed, amused. "This world hasn't changed. Hierarchies, masks, fragile power—easier to bend than bones."
Voldrack leaned against the desk, arms folded. His eyes were sharp, voice low. "Carelessness will draw attention. You are already growing too fast, Ouroboros. The angels' eyes are not blind forever."
Maverick reclined in his chair, fingers tapping the wood, his posture dripping with borrowed arrogance but his voice cutting cold. "Which is why we wear these masks. We play the roles. These lives are now ours to wield."
"And if someone sees through the disguise?" Zaratul asked, eyes glinting with mischief.
Maverick's lips curved faintly. "Then curiosity will kill them."
The room fell silent, the weight of the unspoken truth settling among them.
Outside, Sung Ho sat awake in his own room, hands trembling, sweat soaking his sheets. He told himself it wasn't real. He told himself he was imagining it.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Xin Min's corpse floating in the river.
And yet, there Xin Min was, laughing in class, alive again.
The silence in his chest thickened. It was only a matter of time before it broke.