The darkness was absolute. Not a single ray of light penetrated the room, yet the faint scent of stale alcohol and smoke lingered heavily in the air. The only sound was the irregular, deep rhythm of breathing. A figure lay sprawled across a battered mattress, one arm dangling over the edge as if gravity itself had forgotten him. His brown hair was messy, curling slightly at the ends, a few strands stuck to his forehead. He wore a sloppy, crumpled outfit that suggested he had not changed in days. Rings glinted across his fingers, catching the tiniest specks of light, and a simple chain rested against his neck, tangled in his collar. His beard was thin and uneven, giving him the air of someone perpetually half-awake.
And yet, despite this disheveled state, the corners of his lips curled into a lazy grin. It was a grin that carried both mischief and indifference, the type that suggested he had survived far worse than the circumstances he currently endured.
Suddenly, the silence shattered. A sharp, piercing scream echoed off the concrete walls, reverberating like a whip.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The voice belonged to a girl who looked like she had grown up on the streets. Her posture was aggressive, shoulders squared, and hands balled into fists. Her eyes were fierce, burning with irritation as she glared at the brown-haired figure.
The man stirred, lifting his head lazily. The grin never left his face. "Oh, yes… I am coming," he said in a voice dripping with amusement. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag, the faint glint of white powder inside visible in the dim light.
The girl's eyes narrowed. "You really are a thug… all night doing heroin?" Her voice was sharp, carrying both reprimand and disbelief.
He chuckled softly, tossing the bag lightly between his hands. "Yes," he said, almost proudly, as if the act itself were part of his identity.
The girl's hair was light yellow, falling in slightly messy strands around her sharp face, and her eyes shone a soft golden hue, unsettling against the dimness of the room. Her attire was simple but functional: a tight black top and cargo pants, worn and smeared from use, with two knives strapped to her forearms, the metal stained with fresh, dark blood. She had the air of someone who killed without hesitation, moving with a fluidity that was almost predatory.
"You were killing someone, weren't you, Rose?" the man asked, tilting his head slightly, his grin unwavering.
She didn't flinch. "Yes," she replied, voice low but unafraid. There was no remorse, only the quiet acknowledgment of a truth that was both dangerous and liberating.
The scene shifted abruptly to a space far more structured yet equally sinister: an underground casino that served as a gathering point for the city's most ruthless figures. The room was painted in stark reds and blacks, the kind of colors meant to unsettle the mind, with a blindingly white ceiling and floor that reflected the dim overhead lights in harsh angles. The atmosphere smelled of sweat, smoke, and money, a cocktail designed to keep those present both alert and unnerved.
In the center of the room, a man sat in a chair. He was tall, over six feet, with a physique sculpted like a predator. His black hair was perfectly combed back, his chin sharp, his face clean-shaven, a mask of calculated precision. His eyes glowed with an unnatural red intensity that seemed to pierce through the dim, and his posture exuded absolute control. This was Alane. Every movement, every subtle twitch, radiated the calm but lethal energy of someone who could, and would, act without hesitation.
The entrance doors swung open and the earlier duo entered. Joi, the brown-haired man with the smug grin, followed closely by Rose, the deadly girl with knives strapped to her arms. As they stepped inside, their eyes quickly took in the scene, assessing friend and foe alike.
Another three figures were already present, waiting, each with their own air of menace. Two of them were women with striking red hair and piercing black eyes. One's body was voluptuous her name is Tina , the other lean with flatter features and her name is elke, but both radiated a deadly grace that suggested they were capable of extreme violence. The third was a man dressed in a stark white hospital suit. His hair was pure white, his eyes pitch black, and a thin beard framed his otherwise sharp features. His presence was unsettling; there was something clinical about his energy, as if death and science had combined into one being.
Joi's grin faltered slightly as he took in the man in the hospital suit. "Louis… you've been dissecting humans, can't you even change your clothes before coming here?" His tone carried a mix of mockery and disdain.
Louis didn't answer. His eyes, dark and unreadable, simply tracked Joi's movements, betraying neither emotion nor thought. "No. The boss ordered me to come, now I am here," he said quietly, his voice steady and unnerving.
The two red-haired girls glanced between Joi and Louis, giggling softly, their amusement sharp and slightly cruel. "Look at him," one whispered to the other. "He's disgusted by us… and yet he can't stop staring."
Joi's gaze, however, remained fixed on them. There was a flicker of something dangerous in his blue eyes, a mixture of irritation and admiration. "I can't… I can't believe this," he muttered under his breath, half to himself.
Meanwhile, Alane's eyes were fixed on the group, analyzing, calculating, always watching. His posture didn't change, but there was a silent energy in the room that made even the boldest members hesitate.
Joi finally spoke again, his tone slightly louder. "Louis… you really went through with that? Human dissection?"
Louis's expression remained unchanged. "Yes. The boss demanded it. My compliance is a given."
Rose stepped slightly forward, resting her hands casually on her knives. Her gaze swept across the room, landing on each individual, assessing potential threats. "Disgusting," she muttered, almost to herself, her voice low but deadly.
Joi turned to the two women with red hair, his grin returning, albeit faintly. "And you two… enjoying the show?"
Tina tilted her head, smirked, and replied, "It's… entertaining. Seeing how you react to us, seeing the disgust in your face… priceless."
Elke simply laughed, a low, throaty sound that made Joi flinch slightly. "You really are a spoiled brat, Joi. Relax."
Alane finally broke his silence. His voice, when it came, was smooth but carried weight. "Sit. All of you. This is not a playground. I want order. I will speak now, and I expect complete silence until I am finished."
Every head in the room lowered slightly, the subtle shift in power clear. Joi's grin faded just enough to acknowledge the authority in Alane's tone, Rose's posture stiffened, and even Louis's clinical demeanor carried a trace of acknowledgment.
Alane continued, his sharp red eyes scanning the room. "We are gathered here for a reason. Not for personal amusement, not for petty rivalries. There is a purpose, and it is not negotiable."
Joi shifted slightly, the small plastic bag in his hand now a minor afterthought compared to the aura of menace that Alane exuded.
The two red-haired women exchanged glances, silently acknowledging that this was no ordinary gathering. They had entered expecting chaos, but what they found was controlled, deliberate, and lethal precision.
Alane's gaze rested momentarily on each member. " I demand results. And results are not given to the careless. Each of you has a role. Each of you has a part to play. Disobedience or delay will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," came in varying tones from the assembled group, each voice carrying its own nuance of respect, fear, and anticipation.
---
Alane leaned back in his chair, his sharp fingers tapping slowly on the armrest. "You all know about that Eclipse boy… correct?"
A low murmur passed through the group.
Tina, the voluptuous red-haired woman, crossed her arms and said, "Boss, he's all over the news. Every country's talking about him. But what's that got to do with us?"
Alane's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Everything. That boy's power is beyond measure. Fern headquarters currently holds him under containment. According to my intel — provided by some frightened scientists who owe me favors — he's alive, barely stable, and completely restrained."
Joi raised an eyebrow, his usual lazy grin vanishing. "Wait… Fern headquarters? You mean the Regan main base? Boss, are you planning what I think you are?"
Alane stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the table. His black coat swayed slightly as he spoke, voice deep and confident. "We're going to get that boy. We're going to claim the Eclipse."
For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was the faint creak of chairs as everyone shifted uneasily.
Rose, with her blood-stained knives hanging by her sides, frowned. "You mean… go against Fern? Against Regan forces? That's suicide."
Even Louis, the man in the hospital gown, glanced up from his chair, his expression oddly detached. "The Regans are not merciful, boss. They will kill us the moment they realize someone's after their experiment."
"I'm aware," Alane replied calmly. "But listen carefully — Fern isn't as impenetrable as the world believes. The Regan soldiers don't permanently reside there. Only two or three high-ranking guards are stationed at the facility full time. The rest rotate to their home countries. The boy is vulnerable. His powers are restrained. His pain is our opportunity."
Tina leaned forward, her tone half-fearful, half-intrigued. "So, what's your plan? Kidnap him… and then what?"
"Use his power," Alane said simply. His red eyes glowed brighter, reflecting in the mirrored wall behind him. "Harness the Eclipse to tear down Fern. To tear down the Regan system itself. If we succeed, this world's balance will crumble — and we will rebuild it in our image."
The room went dead silent again. The group exchanged glances, the weight of Alane's ambition pressing down on them.
Finally, Joi laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Man… you really are insane, boss. But fine. I'll go along. I was getting bored anyway."
Rose sighed, flipping one of her knives between her fingers. "Tch. I hate suicidal missions. But fine. Guess I'll come too."
Tina nodded reluctantly. "If we're doing this, we need detailed plans. We can't just walk into Fern like it's a casino."
Louis stood, his hospital gown swaying slightly. "I'll prepare my own equipment. Human anatomy is my expertise, after all. The boy might need… dissection."
"Do whatever you need," Alane said, turning away toward the shadows behind him. "Three days. That's all you have. Prepare, rest, and say goodbye to the surface. Once we step into Fern… there's no turning back."
---
Scene change – Kuro's Hideout
Far from the underworld's chaos, inside a cold metallic facility beneath a mountain ridge, Kuro stood near a long steel corridor. His voice echoed slightly as he spoke through his communicator.
"Billish, inform the others — we depart at the end of the month. That's 56's order."
Billish's irritated voice crackled through the comm, "Tch. Again with that bastard's orders. Fine, I'll tell them."
She switched channels. "Samuel, Sinon, Andreo, Michael — pack up. We're moving out. And no, I don't know where. Ask 56 if you dare."
Across the base, the other members groaned, cursing under their breath. None of them liked 56 — the one who always watched from the shadows, whose plans nobody fully understood. Yet, even in their complaints, none dared to disobey.
Billish muttered as she shut the line, "Every damn time, he drags us into his madness."
---
Scene change – Mount Ridge Balcony
Kuro stood at the cliff's edge, his blazer draped loosely over his shoulder, the night wind brushing his silver hair. Below, the clouds stretched endlessly, and above, three moons illuminated the horizon — pale, haunting, and beautiful.
He whispered softly, "This world… is so wonderfully cruel."
He raised his hand toward the light of the moons, the faint shimmering particles dancing between his fingers. "Rim particles… the essence of energy. Life itself."
His tone shifted into one of detached curiosity, as though teaching an invisible audience.
"In this world, Rim flows from the sun — pure and untainted. Those who can draw it directly are called Day Users. At night, the moon reflects the Rim in diluted form, and those who wield it are Night Users. The balance of day and night users shaped the world's very foundations."
He closed his hand, clenching the particles into a faint glow.
"But there's a third kind… an anomaly. The Eclipse. The Rim that isn't reflected or emitted, but consumed. A power that devours everything — light, shadow, even the will of its host."
Kuro's eyes flickered coldly. "That boy… Kaito. The first Eclipse User. A being who can draw from both the sun and the moon simultaneously."
He turned away, his voice lowering.
"There are generations of Rim wielders. Generation One — those bound by their time. Day or night, they cannot fight without their respective source. Generation Two — those who can store Rim, using it even in darkness or daylight. But even they… have limits."
He stared toward the distant horizon. "To use Rim continuously, the heart must remain open. A closed heart blocks the flow — emotion, hatred, despair… all part of the balance."
He smiled faintly, the expression unreadable.
"And yet that boy suppresses it all. The day he unleashes his heart, the Eclipse will awaken in its true form. Until then… he sleeps in the cage of his own silence."
The wind howled softly, carrying final words into the cold night.
"May this world be ready… for the storm that's coming."
---
He smiled faintly.
"Rim… the purest gift of this world. It gives birth, it destroys, it evolves."
He turned toward the dark valley below, his tone shifting from quiet musing to a calm lecture, as if speaking to someone unseen — or perhaps to the audience beyond reality itself.
"You see, the core of Rim isn't just about strength. It's about the Core Gene. The very essence of a being that decides how their energy manifests."
He raised a finger, tracing glowing symbols in the air as he spoke each classification aloud.
---
"First — Augmenters."
He smirked. "Those who enhance their body or weapons with Rim. Physical monsters, living engines of destruction. Alexander is a perfect example — a man who channels every ounce of Rim into brute force, making his fists capable of shattering steel."
"Second — Emitters."
He clenched his fist and let a wave of energy pulse outward in a clean arc, scattering dust. "They release energy in waves, blasts, or projectiles. Controlled destruction, like Guren. His Rim burns through the air, cutting through opposition like lightning through clouds."
"Third — Igniters."
The Rim particles shimmered, glowing with faint heat. "They ignite their Rim into flames, plasma, or energy fields. Alia — a typical example — her flames are born of her heart, emotion molded into raw combustion."
"Fourth — Linkers."
His expression softened. "Those who can bond their energy between beings, objects, or even memories. I fall under this category. My power isn't about destruction, but control — the subtle manipulation of Rim through connection. A perfect web."
"Fifth — Mutators."
The air grew heavier as he spoke. "Those who change what they touch. Their bodies, or the very environment around them. Adaptation itself. Perhaps… Kaito belongs here. His Rim mutates everything it touches — body, space, even light."
"Sixth — Breakers."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Rare, dangerous. They destroy or disrupt other energy systems entirely. They tear through structure itself. Maybe Kaito also carries this trait — that strange, uncontrolled energy that devours and nullifies."
He lowered his hand, eyes darkening.
"And lastly — Specialists."
"Those who fall into none of these. Unique, irregular, unpredictable. They break patterns and shape new laws entirely."
---
He looked up at the glowing moons again, voice quiet but firm.
"Among every ten million born, only one gains a secondary ability. A double Core Gene. Such people are miracles… or monsters, depending on how you see them. I'd like to see which one that Eclipse boy will become."
The wind picked up, sweeping his blazer behind him. His tone darkened, analytical yet strangely human.
"This world is merciless. The average person — even if trained — can only use Rim for thirty minutes before their body collapses from exhaustion. Soldiers? An hour at best. The most elite, those who touch their limits, can fight for two to three hours before their heart begins to tear itself apart."
He chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the mountains.
"The body was never designed to hold cosmic fire for long."
He turned slightly toward the viewer again, eyes glinting with irony.
"You might be wondering — how am I still standing? How could I suppress Regan No. 10, that map user who could sense everything within kilometers?"
He smirked, hands in his pockets.
"The answer is simple. I didn't overpower her — I outplayed her. I used my ability only once. A single touch, a single connection… and she forgot me. Just like that."
He stepped forward, walking slowly toward the rocky trail leading down the slope, voice lowering into a near-whisper.
"And now you might ask — if that's true, then how could Guren boast to Minister Brown that I could maintain my Rim power for days?"
He stopped, turning his head slightly, half of his face caught in the moonlight.
"Well… that's something you'll find out soon enough."
He chuckled again — a sound filled with calm arrogance, yet a trace of fatigue lingered beneath it. He reached for his black blazer, slipped it on, straightened his tie, and took one last look at the horizon.
"Every era births a phenomenon," he murmured. "The Eclipse is ours. Whether it saves or destroys us… depends on who controls it first."
Then, without another word, he stepped into the darkness of the mountain path, the wind swallowing his silhouette.