The portal opened with a tearing, organic sound—like a wound splitting open in the fabric of reality itself.
A dark, liquid circle formed in the air, its edges pulsing red like blood-swollen veins.
Corrupted magic dripped from it, and its interior looked less like a rift and more like a living throat.
On the other side, a chamber awaited them.
The darkness was incomplete. Violet flames burned within iron sconces along walls of black stone, and at the center of a colossal hall—deep as a temple and carved like an ancient crypt—stood a titanic slab of solid rock.
Engraved upon it was a raised map of the continent of Aurotia, stretching from end to end.
Mountains rose like real peaks. Rivers shimmered faintly with magical flow. And across the war-torn regions, crimson points pulsed like open wounds carved into the world itself.
The four figures stepped out of the portal, each with a different composure.
Netys emerged first, walking as though blood had never touched her.
Seider followed, gliding forward with the calm menace of a nocturnal predator.
Mason came next, faint traces of dark energy still crackling around his fingers.
And last—
Baltazar.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, his body convulsed.
The unstable flux—tainted by Seider's aura—collapsed his inner balance for a heartbeat. A surge of mischanneled mana crawled up his chest, and before he could suppress it, he dropped to his knees, coughing up a thick spurt of dense black blood that splattered across the polished floor of the sanctuary.
Seider glanced sideways, unmoved.
Netys didn't even turn her head.
Mason took a step toward Baltazar, then stopped himself just short of touching him.
Then came the roar.
Not a shout—but a vibration born from the stone itself.
From between the shadowed columns, a massive figure stepped forward.
Its silhouette filled the width of the aisle, and every step sent tremors through the ground.
A lycanthrope.
But not an ordinary one.
Brown fur, scarred and coarse, covered a body of brutal proportions. His arms were humanoid yet thick as tree trunks, muscles corded and dense—built to shatter stone with a single blow.
His bare chest bore the burning brand of the Disasters' symbol, carved into raw flesh.
His legs were bestial, claws clicking sharply against the marble with each step.
And his head—
A massive jaw, fangs visible even at rest.
Yet his eyes were not those of a beast.
They were old. Deep. Human.
And filled with a fossilized rage that had never died.
Golden eyes burned like demonic lanterns as he stopped before them.
—"You're late," he said. "Why didn't you just destroy the place?"
Baltazar, still on his knees, lifted his head, spitting the last trace of blood aside.
The host before him showed no pity. No mockery.
Only power.
Raw, oppressive power that thickened the air like gravity itself. Even the shadows around him seemed to tremble.
Netys smiled defiantly.
Netys:—"It isn't time for us to reveal ourselves yet," she replied calmly. "Borok. That's why the Leader sent me—not you—to escort the leech."
Seider's eyes flared with killing intent. He stepped forward, placing himself between them, his voice dripping with disdain.
Seider:—"To me," he said, "you're both idiots."
A dense aura wrapped around Borok's massive frame, a feral rumble building in his chest—like a predator seconds away from tearing prey apart.
Drops of blood left behind by the portal began to rise from the floor, floating around Seider as if gathering for an attack.
At the same time, a violent surge of hurricane-force wind mixed with crackling arcs of lightning erupted from Netys's body.
She smiled like a psychopath.
Mason:—"Enough!" Mason shouted.
Seider turned toward him, thirst for blood burning in his gaze.
But Borok and Netys withdrew their power.
Seeing this, the vampire restrained himself as well.
Mason:—"This is the Sanctuary of Chaos," Mason warned. "If the Leader finds out you nearly wiped out the entire region and killed Lake… all of us will be discarded."
Every gaze dropped to the floor.
Borok's. Netys's. Even Seider's.
They all knew what it meant to be discarded.
Baltazar Lake's face went pale.
Shaken. Afraid.
He could be certain of only one thing:
"These people might actually be stronger than a superhuman."
The silence that followed was worse than the conflict.
Not because it was peaceful—but because it was heavy. Dense. As if the sanctuary itself was breathing cautiously, aware of how close everything had come to collapse.
Borok slowly turned his head toward Baltazar.
He didn't need to move closer. His gaze alone made the pressure spike.
Borok:—"Stand up, Seventh," he growled.
It wasn't a shouted command.
It was certainty.
Baltazar pressed a hand against the stone floor. It was cold—too cold. As if the place itself rejected him. He clenched his teeth and forced his body to obey, rising with visible effort.
Borok looked him over.
Borok:—"You smell like ash and soil," he said. "So… Fire–Earth constitution?"
Seider smirked, exposing a single fang.
Seider:—"Don't provoke him yet, Borok," he murmured. "He's still fragile."
Borok's golden eyes locked onto him.
Borok:—"We all were once," he replied. "Let's see how he reacts when he meets the Leader in person."
Netys stepped toward the central slab. The map of Aurotia glowed faintly beneath her feet, responding to her aura.
Netys:—"Enough," she said. "Fangs and leech. We didn't bring him here to measure egos. This was by mandate. Now we wait for the message."
Borok turned and walked toward the stone table. Each step rang like a hammer striking the structure itself.
He placed a massive hand over the map.
Three regions ignited—burning black.
Borok:—"The fractures are accelerating," Borok explained. "Not because of wars. Not because of kingdoms. Interference."
Mason:—"External?" Mason asked.
Borok nodded.
Borok:—"And not divine."
The words fell like a slab of stone.
Seider tilted his head, intrigued for the first time.
Seider:—"That's… inconvenient."
Borok:—"It's worse," continued. "According to the investigations of the Fifth Disaster—Nirak—leaks of dark energy are causing monsters to evolve."
Netys narrowed her eyes.
Netys:—"Evolve?"
Borok didn't answer immediately. His claws pressed into the stone, carving thin grooves.
Borok:—"Not yet at the scale the Leader predicted," he said. "But it's getting close."
Baltazar swallowed.
The sanctuary trembled again—not from released power, but anticipation.
Borok withdrew his hand and looked at them all.
Borok:—"The Leader wants results," he declared. "But above all, he wants silence."
His gaze settled on Seider.
Borok:—"Next time you lose control… no one will stop you."
For the first time, the vampire didn't smile.
And deep within the sanctuary, something ancient seemed to stir.
A sharp pulse rippled through the chamber.
Not an explosion.
An interruption.
As if something had decided that reality itself needed to be quiet.
The map of Aurotia went dark.
The violet flames bent inward, their light warping toward a single point.
At the far end of the hall, atop a forgotten pedestal, a black crystal sphere began to pulse.
It did not reflect light.
It consumed it.
Its surface was so dark it felt unreal, and staring at it for too long created a pressure behind the eyes—as if the mind rejected its existence.
From within it, a silhouette began to form.
No defined shape.
No face.
No gender.
Only… presence.
When it spoke, it did not use a voice.
It was worse.
—…
The sound never crossed the air.
It appeared directly inside them.
Borok reacted first.
The colossal lycanthrope dropped to his knees with a thunderous crack that split the marble beneath him. His fangs clenched as a strangled growl escaped his throat—not of rage, but recognition.
Netys bowed in a perfect, automatic reverence, as if her body remembered something her mind refused to acknowledge.
Seider took a step back.
Then another.
Finally, he knelt—fists clenched, head lowered, fangs trembling.
Mason lowered his gaze and placed one knee on the ground.
Only one remained standing.
Baltazar.
His legs shook violently. The air became unbearable, as if an invisible gravity tried to crush him into the floor.
His heart pounded.
"What… what kind of being can do this?"
"What can make monsters like them tremble?"
The silhouette within the sphere shifted.
It didn't walk.
It simply stood before Mason.
The darkness leaned toward him.
Baltazar couldn't hear the words.
But he saw Mason stiffen completely.
His fingers curled tight.
Cold sweat ran down his temple.
Then the whisper ended.
The silhouette vanished.
The sphere went dark—lifeless, dull, as if it had never held anything at all.
The weight lifted.
The sanctuary breathed again.
Baltazar collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, lungs burning.
Baltazar Lake:—"What… what was that?" he asked, voice broken. "Who the hell…?"
Mason rose slowly.
His face was pale. Serious. Older.
Mason:—"That," he said, "was neither a demon nor a god."
He looked at the sphere one last time.
Mason:—"He is…"
A pause.
Mason:—"Omdorak," he said. "Leader of Chaos."
Lake's pupils dilated in pure terror.
His entire life, he had never believed in organizations like this. Even his master had dismissed them as myths.
But now…
It seemed the myth was real.