The dark lord had not lied.
William stood before the idol deep beneath Ynkeos Tower, the obsidian altar pulsing with a heart that was not his. The chamber, carved into the earth itself, vibrated with ancient power. Light did not reach here. Cameras refused to function. In this place, the world above could not see what was being born.
He had asked for strength. He had been given more than that.
The dark god's voice now coiled into his mind like smoke. Your hands will no longer be idle. Your flesh is prepared. Your enemies will feel you before they see you.
William flexed his fingers. His suit clung tighter to his new form—no longer padded to mask a soft belly. That had melted away under months of silent transformation. The musculature was real now: lean, sharp, honed. He'd undergone his own ritual in private, far from the eyes of boardrooms and flashing cameras.
Power demanded discipline. And William had never lacked that.
He exhaled, the breath whistling past teeth too sharp to be merely human anymore.
Serra stood at a discreet distance, her eyes unreadable. She had seen the change in him and said nothing. She didn't need to. She'd given up her soul the day she joined him.
"I want to learn how to fight him," William said aloud, addressing the air, the idol, the voice that lived between dimensions. "Moonveil. The Champion. Your opposite's dog. He will come for me. He already is."
And you will greet him with grace, the dark lord purred. The stars turn in your favor now. The moon retreats. The balance has shifted. For three weeks, you are untouchable.
William's grin was slow and dangerous. "Then teach me."
---
Meanwhile, across the sea in London, Marc sat on the rooftop of a government building, legs swinging over the edge, cloak pulled tight against the wind.
Below, the city buzzed in its usual way. But to him, it felt like the hum of a countdown.
"Three weeks?" he muttered. "You're telling me the bastard gets three whole weeks of protection just because the sky says so?"
Tecciztecatl's voice replied softly, That is the way of cosmic balance, Champion. Even gods obey the rhythm of the stars. During this time, his god's influence peaks. He walks shielded. You strike him now, you will fail.
Marc spat over the edge. "Bullshit."
Truth, the god corrected. You are justice, Marc, but justice has its hour. Wait for yours.
Marc stood and looked east, toward the edge of the skyline. "Three weeks is too long. People will die."
Yes, Tecciztecatl whispered, mournful. But that is the tax of prophecy. You cannot defy it. Only survive it.
---
Across the Atlantic, darkness brewed in a form far more literal.
The El Lobo estate once echoed with music, laughter, and cruelty in equal measure. Now, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Juarez, Rafael, and Salvatore stood in the great hall before what remained of the idol that had birthed Sangre de Luna. Its surface had cracked, but something had emerged from within—something vast and hungry.
None of the brothers moved without command. They breathed. They blinked. They wore their suits and spoke to smugglers and captains—but they were no longer men.
They were vessels.
The dark lord had used them to create the first iteration of Sangre de Luna. And when the formula proved volatile, he changed his strategy. Why place divinity in drugs when you could place it in flesh?
Now, the three brothers moved as one. Thought as one. Killed as one.
And now, they were en route to London.
William had not summoned them. The god had. But William would welcome them. He would call them "lieutenants." In truth, they were insurance. Power consolidated. Ritualized. Prepared.
They would not need Sangre de Luna anymore. They were Sangre de Luna.
---
Back in London, Marc arrived at work like nothing had happened. The morning routine of coffee, quiet greetings, and dead-end analysis reports did little to calm his nerves.
Howard greeted him with a mug of tea and a hopeful expression. "Hey, you're in early. Sleep well?"
Marc forced a smile. "Yeah. Dreamt I was climbing skyscrapers again."
"You sure you're not doing that actually?" Howard teased.
Marc laughed. It came out hollow.
Howard turned back to his monitor. "Anyway. Did you see this? William's hosting a press conference this week. January 10. Big reveal of the first Ynkeos mobile device. Built from the ground up. Supposed to have their own OS. You believe that?"
Marc tensed. "He's making a phone?"
"More like a surveillance brick. Rumor is, it's got twelve cameras and integrated biometric mapping. Runs a proprietary AI. If it works, it'll corner every market—civilian and military."
Marc stared at the screen showing the press release. William's face smiled back at him—slimmed, rebranded, almost unrecognizable.
"It's not just a phone," Marc whispered.
Howard raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
Marc rose from his desk. "Need air."
He left the lab and stepped out onto the ministry's rooftop. Cold air slapped him in the face. His hands trembled slightly.
He's preparing, Tecciztecatl said. He intends to sell the eye of the void to every hand on Earth.
Marc clenched his fists. "What do we do?"
We wait. Watch. But soon—soon the stars will turn again.
Marc looked at the crescent moon fading into daylight. He thought of Alexia. Of the people who still believed in light.
Then he looked back down at the growing shadow of Ynkeos.
And he knew.
William's war hadn't even begun yet.
But when it did… it wouldn't just be between two men.
It would be between gods.