The hologram whirred once more, flickering through cascading streams of data and symbols until it paused—static buzzed for a heartbeat—before stabilizing on an image.
A figure stood in the projection. Humanoid. Humble in shape—two arms, two legs, two eyes—like the majority of sapient species across the multiverse. But his very presence in the light display made the room feel colder... heavier.
"The Dragon God," Izanami said, her tone devoid of flair or drama. It was reverence. The kind of name that demanded silence, not applause.
"He is not only the Leader of the Boundless Patch... but something beyond."
The image glowed faintly, the Dragon God's silhouette crackling with streaks of white flame and light-bending shadows that seemed to twist in rhythm with some unseen heartbeat.
Izanami exhaled slowly.
"Some even say... he is the one closest to a force higher than all others. That perhaps—a Writer exists... scripting the multiverse like a story." She chuckled nervously, brushing that off. "Ahem. Not that important right now."
She waved her hand, and the projection abruptly shifted.
The air in the room darkened.
An image of a boy—Madala Sujay—now consumed the space. He looked the same age as Seko. A frail silhouette... but the expression was monstrous.
He was mid-motion—caught tearing off the skull of something humanoid. His eyes wide, black and empty, the picture capturing an eternal smirk that lacked all humanity. Behind him, it was raining red. Not metaphorical. Not poetic.
Actual blood.
Streaming from the heavens like divine wrath reversed.
Kiyomi froze. Atama stopped chewing. Violet's hand clenched by his side.
"This mission…" Izanami said, almost quietly, "was personally requested by me. Not because it's a punishment. Not because you're heroes. But because no one else had the nerve."
She let the silence linger, then added:
"Track him. Watch him. Do not engage... unless there is no other choice. Because if what we've seen is even half of what he's capable of—"
She looked at Seko, eyes sharp.
"Then he's not just your ghost, vampire. He might be the multiverse's."
Izanami didn't flinch at Seko's words. She let his laughter hang in the air like a mocking wind brushing through broken stone. The room was quiet—too quiet—for anyone else to speak.
Seko's voice carried the bitter edge of sarcasm and truth.
"You knew him before we did? Nice…" he chuckled dryly, pacing a bit. "And a threat to the multiverse, you say? The strongest of us is barely above universal, you know that?"He scoffed, throwing his arms wide. "And me? I can barely destroy a huge solar system on a good day. You think we can beat that anomaly?!"
He pointed a thumb toward the frozen image of Madala Sujay, still mid-slaughter, still smiling like he owned the concept of suffering.
Izanami stepped forward, fire sword gone but gaze aflame.
"You're right," she said. "You can't beat him."
The words were cold. Flat. Unapologetic.
"Not now."
She looked around at the rest of them. Violet, quiet but alert. Kiyomi, fists clenched. Atama, leaning back but eyes unreadable behind his casual grin.
"I'm not asking you to kill Madala Sujay. I'm asking you to learn. Adapt. Observe. Survive."
Her gaze returned to Seko.
"Because someone has to. And the reason I chose you… is because you've already seen the abyss—and you spat in it. I don't care if you're 'barely solar-system-level' or 'borderline universal'."
She turned the hologram off, plunging the room into low light.
"What I need are souls twisted enough to understand monsters… and stupid enough to walk straight into their jaws."
A pause. Then Atama chuckled, peeling another fruit.
"Well, you did say we were dumb-fucking-morons, Vampy."
Kiyomi smirked.
Seko didn't smile… but he didn't argue either.
Seko asks, "Will I really be given data of my family... then? I have to kill them with my own hands."
Izanami didn't answer immediately.
She stood still, arms behind her back, eyes distant—as if calculating the weight of a promise she wasn't sure she should make. The others watched in silence, the hum of the hologram projector now faded, the room feeling suddenly heavier.
Finally, her voice returned, low but firm.
"Yes."
She looked directly at Seko now.
"You will get every piece of information we have on your family. Their movements. Their hideouts. Their sins."
She stepped closer, stopping just in front of him.
"But knowledge comes at a cost. I can't just give you that data. You'll earn it. Mission by mission. Step by step. Every monster you face… every anomaly you survive… gets you closer to the answers you seek."
Her voice softened for a brief moment, not out of pity, but from recognition.
"Revenge isn't cheap. And it's rarely clean. You're not here to play hero, Seko… you're here because you've already walked through hell once. You just haven't finished the tour."
Atama, still chewing on his fruit, raised an eyebrow.
"Damn, that was poetic."
Kiyomi placed a gentle hand on Seko's arm—not to stop him, but to remind him: you're not alone this time.
Seko stood there, gaze down at his fists.
"Good," he muttered. "Because I'm not just going to kill them… I'm going to make them feel it."
His words didn't echo.
They settled—like a quiet oath signed in blood.