As the ship hummed into descent, the planet beneath them grew clearer—familiar cities, scorched fields, and silver towers reflecting the dying sun. The human planet. The place where their journey had started… and perhaps, where a new chapter would begin.
Dust kicked up in clouds as the ship touched down with a mechanical hiss. The ramp lowered slowly, creaking under the strain of the still-cooling engine.
Waiting just beyond the landing pad stood two figures.
One of them, a woman draped in ceremonial black and deep crimson armor—Izanami. Her aura alone was suffocating, cold, commanding. Her eyes didn't flinch. She wasn't here to negotiate. She was here to arrest.
Beside her, pacing with restless energy, was Blue. His coat was torn, his knuckles bandaged roughly, and his jaw clenched tight with irritation. The moment he saw Atama stepping down from the ship, he flared.
"It took me time to get out of the damn mirror dimension!" Blue shouted, his voice booming across the cracked concrete. "You LEFT me in there!"
Atama didn't even blink. He casually munched on a snack stick, raising a hand like he was swatting a fly. "You're welcome, by the way. Think of it as a spa day… with reflections of your own trauma."
Blue's eye twitched. "I broke through space, Atama. Do you know what that feels like?!"
Kiyomi and Violet stepped off next, their expressions shifting into alertness the moment they felt Izanami's presence. Seko was last, walking slow, composed but observant—scanning Izanami, scanning the guards behind her, scanning the subtle position of Blue's feet.
Izanami raised a hand toward them with authority.
"Seko, Kiyomi, Atama, Violet," she said, her voice smooth but lined with frost. "By decree of the Human Constellate Council… you are under arrest for planetary disruption, theft of sealed artifacts, and warping interdimensional gateways without sanctioned clearance."
There was a moment of quiet.
Atama finished his snack. "Nice to see you too, Izanami."
Seko cracked his neck, eyes still on Blue. "Guess it's never boring with us."
Kiyomi stepped forward, the faint shimmer of her shield magic already coiling at her fingertips.
Violet's lavender eyes briefly scanned Izanami with the curiosity of a predator masked behind elegance. His gaze lingered—not on her armor or the rank she held—but on her eyes, her lips, the way her fingers tensed ever so slightly as if itching to draw her weapon.
And then—
Pop.
He was gone in a flicker of wind and petals.
Teleported.
Before anyone could react, Violet stood inches away from Izanami. Close—too close.
"I must say…" he murmured, his voice like a smooth purr, "…authority looks so breathtaking on you."
Izanami's eyebrow twitched.
"Back away," she said coldly, her voice not rising, but slicing through the space between them.
Violet tilted his head with that usual mischievous glint. "You're beautiful when you're mad too. What else are you hiding beneath that armor, hm?"
A thin pulse of violet fauna bloomed at his feet, creeping toward her boots, small flower tendrils coiling lightly like a gentle flirtation.
Everyone else stood frozen.
"…He teleported to flirt with a commander?" Kiyomi muttered in disbelief, eyes wide.
"Is he suicidal?" Seko whispered flatly.
Atama just stared, crunching loudly on his snack. "Honestly, I didn't see that one coming."
There was silence—icy, ominous, final.
And then—
SLAM.
Izanami's elbow snapped forward, connecting with Violet's gut. In an instant, he was launched backwards across the landing zone, flipping midair and skidding into a pile of scrap crates.
"Ow…" Violet groaned from under the rubble, a dazed smirk still on his lips. "Worth it."
Izanami adjusted her gauntlet, returning her attention to the team as if nothing had happened.
"As I was saying…" she continued, tone perfectly leveled, "You are under arrest."
Seko stood his ground, the wind kicking up his coat as his eyes met Izanami's. Calm, yet laced with defiance.
"Working under the rich again? You do remember the last time, right?... What I did to that rich buffoon."
His voice was low, cool—taunting.
Izanami didn't flinch, but the soldiers around her definitely did.
Atama leaned in toward Seko with a mischievous grin, elbowing him gently.
"Sheesh! I never took you as the provocative guy, Vampy."
Seko didn't respond, his gaze still locked onto Izanami. There was history here—blood-soaked and sharp-edged.
Kiyomi, without a word, activated her shield. A soft, blue shimmer surrounded her arm as the energy shaped into a dome around her. She knew it wouldn't hold against Izanami, not if she got serious. But instinct took over—they might have to fight.
Then—POP.
A shift in air pressure.
In a blink, Blue and Atama were mid-air, moving faster than thought—Blue driven by rage, his energy rippling, and Atama, seemingly relaxed but very much prepared, already reaching into one of his absurd snack compartments.
And just as the air started to burn—
BOOM.
A shockwave cracked the atmosphere.
Black Dragon returned.
He didn't walk into the scene—he manifested. From nothing. From dark smoke and twisting pressure. His body was still sleek obsidian, coiling tendrils of shadow peeling off his scaled arms. The black sigils across his chest were glowing red now, as if freshly inked in molten wrath.
One hand was stretched up into the sky. He grabbed both Blue and Atama mid-air—as if yanking two toys from flight—and slammed them into the ground with a shockwave that cracked the landing zone beneath them.
Dust flew.
Black Dragon's voice was quiet, yet it echoed in their bones.
"Enough posturing. You're on my soil now."
Everyone froze.
Even Izanami narrowed her eyes, finally taking the threat seriously.
Black Dragon turned his gaze toward Seko.
"You still looking for answers, boy? Then stay alive."
He turned his head toward Izanami.
"You want a war? I'll give you a crater where your palace used to be."
The tension in the air was a wire pulled so tight it hummed.
And somewhere in the silence… Atama casually chewed.
"…Still didn't drop my burrito though."
The crowd parted like waves, their eyes wide in awe and reverence as Seko stepped forward. These were the ones who had whispered his name in prayer, who viewed him not as a monster or a vampire, but as a savior. News had already spread—he had slain the richest of tyrants, the one who turned suffering into sport.
Some wept. Some clutched each other with shaking hands. Others simply stood in silence, as if the sight of him had confirmed hope wasn't just a fantasy. A child tugged at his mother's cloak and pointed at Seko with a smile, "That's him… the one who stopped the games."
But standing firm between the crowd and the group was Izanami.
Her presence was regal, almost divine in stature—stoic, guarded, and once the enforcer of cruel laws. She had changed. The hard coldness in her eyes now carried something else: regret. Her armor no longer bore the crest of the elite, but a neutral insignia — a symbol of protection for all humanity.
Kiyomi, clutching her newly repaired shield, stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, calm but sharp.
"Then why are you arresting us?"
A beat of silence passed. The murmurs of the crowd seemed to hush instantly.
Izanami exhaled slowly. Her eyes didn't waver.
"Because redemption doesn't erase law… and justice needs to be equal for everyone. Even those who believe they're right."
Seko scoffed quietly, his expression unreadable.Atama, chewing on the stem of a sweet herb, muttered under his breath,
"Well, that's new. Enlightened enforcer with a conscience."
Violet blinked, finally starting to understand the weight of the tension.
"Wait... she used to let people be slaughtered for entertainment?"His tone carried a mix of disbelief and disgust.
Seko didn't say much. He simply stared at Izanami — the very symbol of a system he had once sought to burn down.
"You're still wearing a sword given to you by the rich."His words cut sharper than any blade.
Izanami didn't flinch. She touched the hilt.
"Then I'll use it to protect the poor this time."
And with that, the air was split by a shimmer—Black Dragon had returned. His body emerged from refracted rays like a prism breaking through time. His presence shifted everything. Shadows bent toward him. Light wrapped around his limbs.
"I thought we were done with the arresting game," he said, his voice as calm as dawnlight.Blue landed beside him with a grunt, his irritation from being trapped in the mirror dimension still visible in his scowl.
Atama, still floating midair, shouted down,
"So, who's up for a 'talk it out' kind of day, or do we go full dramatic showdown?"
Kiyomi stood still, shield steady.Seko… didn't move.
And from the crowd, the chant began softly:
"Seko… Seko… Seko…"
The chant died instantly.
Seko's voice tore through the air like a dagger slashing silk. His crimson eyes blazed not with pride, but fury—raw, unfiltered, and human in a way that made the crowd recoil.
"Stop!!!"
His scream echoed, bouncing off buildings and the hearts of those who had just moments ago seen him as a savior. The silence that followed was suffocating. You could hear the wind crawl.
He stepped forward, rage swelling in every muscle, his voice now a harsh snarl:
"Are humans this pathetic?!""You never lifted a damn finger when they were killing your children, your friends, your families! But now? Now you chant for me? You waited… for a vampire?"He jabbed his thumb into his own chest, filled with disgust, not pride.
"You depended on something worse than your enemies. Me."
Mothers shielded their children. The brave among the crowd lowered their heads—not in shame of him, but in the sudden realization of themselves.
"Don't you have the guts?! The honor?!"
His voice cracked with something deeper than anger. Maybe pain. Maybe betrayal.
"You all waited… prayed… begged for help. But when did you ever say, 'No more' and take your power back?! Never. You want change? You want justice? Then earn it."
He turned his back for a moment, the silence boiling into guilt.
"If you keep depending on others—on monsters like me—you'll collapse again. The next tyrant will just wear a different mask."
Then, he spat the words like venom:
"Stand up for yourselves… you dumb-fucking-morons!!"
Gasps rippled. Some were offended. Some were stunned. But most... were simply shaken.
No one spoke.
But in that silence—something stirred.
An old man, hunched and frail, took a step forward. Then a teenage girl with bruises on her arms. Then a mother who had lost her son to the blood games.
They didn't chant his name this time. They just stood in silence.
For the first time... for themselves.
And in the back, Atama muttered while finishing the last bite of his burrito:
"Whew. Well, that was a better speech than I expected from angry-fang-boy."
Kiyomi looked down. A smile tugged at her lips.
Violet? Stunned.