At the heart of the Ghostface stronghold, Oliver Sly lounged in his obsidian throne, surrounded by flickering monitors and the hum of dark energy.
Reports of skeleton raids filtered in, villages burned, lives lost, but he barely glanced at them.
"Let the bones do their work," he muttered, swirling a glass of crimson elixir, "No one out there can touch me."
But then a name surfaced.
Paulo Satoshi.
Oliver's hand froze mid-sip.
That name carried weight, too much weight.
A warrior of cosmic fury, unpredictable and relentless.
If Paulo was involved, the raids were not just chaos, they were bait.
He stood abruptly, cloak billowing behind him, "Prepare my transport. I want to see this village myself."
Moments later, Oliver arrived at the site of the raid.
Smoke still lingered, but the village was eerily silent.
No bodies.
No survivors.
No resistance.
"Where is everyone?" Oliver growled.
His scouts returned with a report: Paulo had evacuated the entire village, relocating them to the fortified Cosmic Base.
Not a soul remained.
Oliver stepped through the ruins, his boots crunching over shattered bone.
He knelt beside the remains of the Bone Warden, split cleanly in half.
"Only one blade could do this," he whispered.
He rose slowly, eyes narrowing. "So… Paulo Satoshi lives. And he is protecting them."
A twisted grin spread across his face. "Good, I wouldn't want the number one enemy to be dead yet."
***
Back at the sprawling cosmic base nestled within the folds of a nebula.
Paulo and Riku sat quietly in the lounge, a chamber carved from stardust and reinforced with quantum alloys.
The room shimmered with soft hues of violet and silver, its walls pulsing gently with the rhythm of the universe itself.
Holographic constellations floated lazily above their heads, casting a celestial glow over the plush seating and crystalline tables.
It was a place meant for reflection, camaraderie, and the occasional moment of peace between battles.
Yuki Fujimoto and Amy Takahashi entered the lounge, both in their majestic Tengu forms.
Their wings, dark as obsidian and flecked with starlight, folded elegantly behind them.
Their eyes glowed faintly, Yuki's with a piercing sapphire hue, Amy's with a warm amber fire.
The air shifted slightly as they entered, the subtle pressure of their spiritual energy brushing against the walls like a breeze through ancient trees.
Yuki moved gracefully toward Paulo, her gaze softening as she approached.
Without a word, she settled onto his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders with a quiet intimacy.
Her head nestled into the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin.
"So," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "tell me what happened."
Paulo's expression darkened, the weight of recent events pressing down on him like a leaden cloak.
He exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Yuki's back as he spoke.
"There was a raid," he began, his voice low and steady, "One of our outer villages, was attacked. Skeletons. Not just the mindless kind. These were organized, tactical. High-ranking undead. The kind that do not move unless someone powerful commands them."
Yuki's brows furrowed, her grip tightening slightly, "How bad was it?"
Paulo's eyes flickered with pain, "Eighteen villagers dead. Twenty-five in critical condition. A hundred survived, but they are shaken. The village is in ruins."
Riku, seated across from them, leaned forward, his red hair catching the light.
"It wasn't random," he said, "They were looking for something. Or someone."
Amy crossed her arms, her wings twitching, "Skeletons do not strategize. Not unless they are being directed."
Paulo nodded grimly, "Exactly. And I know who is behind it."
The room fell silent.
Even the holographic stars seemed to pause in their orbit.
"Momo Yokoyama," Paulo said, his voice laced with certainty, "The Monarch of Death. The Female Grim Reaper. She commands the legions of the undead. She is one of the other Twelve."
Yuki lifted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing, "She's resurfaced?"
"She never truly vanished," Paulo replied, recalling his memory, "She has been gathering strength in the Shadow Realms. Waiting. Watching."
Amy's voice was sharp. "If she's making moves, it means the balance is shifting."
Paulo's gaze drifted toward the stars above, "She is not just a monarch. She is a force of entropy. Her presence alone corrodes life. And if she is targeting our villages, it means she is evaluating our defences."
Yuki traced a finger along Paulo's jawline, "And you? What will you do?"
Paulo's eyes glowed faintly, a soft radiation pulsing from his core, "I am the Cosmic Vessel. The Monarch of Radiation. My power is born from the heart of dying stars and the fury of atomic fire. If Momo wants war, she will get it. But not on her terms."
Riku stood, his aura flaring, "We need to alert the other monarchs. If Momo's active, the others will not be far behind."
Amy nodded, "We will need to reinforce the villages. Rebuild the wards. And prepare the Rajin."
Yuki leaned into Paulo once more, her voice a whisper, "Promise me you'll come back."
Paulo kissed her forehead gently, "I always do."
Outside the lounge, the cosmic base hummed with energy.
The stars watched silently, ancient witnesses to the unfolding drama. And somewhere, in the cold void between worlds, Momo Yokoyama smiled beneath her skeletal veil, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The game had begun.