When the world saw Adrian Vale like this—
everyone fell into a strange, creeping doubt.
After all, they were watching through a screen. They couldn't feel what Nolan Mercer was feeling up close.
But that didn't stop the flood of speculation.
Because Adrian Vale's left eye… was wrong.
Not "cool contact lens" wrong.
Inhuman wrong.
A black sclera. A blood-red iris.
And the left side of his face—laced with crawling crimson cracks, like something underneath his skin was trying to break out.
The chat detonated.
"What the hell is his eye? That's not human!"
"His face is cracking open!"
"Someone explain—what kind of thing does this?!"
"Is it the fear effect from the Ghoul-Eye Oni Mask?"
"Maybe it's an illusion that finally works on us?!"
"Then… if we know it's fake, does the mask still do anything?"
But the Ghoul-Eye Oni Mask didn't create illusions.
The reason the viewers weren't collapsing in fear was simple:
they were separated by a screen.
In the studio, even the panelists sounded uncertain.
"This looks too real…"
"It's like his face genuinely—"
Before anyone could finish—
Derek Vaughn opened his mouth again.
"Even if it's real, in the end he's still—"
SLAP!
Captain Cole snapped.
"I'm done with you. I've held back long enough."
The whole studio froze.
The chat froze.
Even the audience watching at home went silent.
And yet somehow—
not a single person felt it was wrong.
It was cathartic.
Derek Vaughn stood there clutching his swollen face, stunned into emptiness.
But the next change on-screen made everyone forget him immediately.
Because this time—
it wasn't Adrian Vale's eye.
It was what erupted behind him.
Four dark-red "tentacles" flared into view, glowing with an eerie, sick beauty. Look closer and you could see faint, scale-like patterns running along them.
They weren't tentacles.
They were Rinkaku.
And the instant those Rinkaku unfurled—
the entire stream ignited.
"WHAT IS THAT?!"
"A tail?!"
"Is this still the mask?!"
"No—this can't be the mask anymore!"
"I'm done. My brain is done."
Even Dragon Nation's top officials—watching from their highest meeting room—went stiff.
They weren't like the chat. They had expert briefings on Adrian Vale's two items. They knew what a D-rank mask could realistically do.
And what they were looking at now?
It wasn't "special effects."
It wasn't "fear hallucination."
Those four writhing appendages were real.
Which meant only one terrifying possibility:
If the Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone didn't give him this…
then Adrian Vale brought it with him.
So what… was Adrian Vale?
Inside the forest, Adrian Vale didn't care about the questions.
His Rinkaku swayed in the dark like restless blades.
He kept walking toward Nolan Mercer—slow, steady, inevitable.
Over in the Eastern Isles stream, viewers panicked for half a second—
then clung to denial.
"It's fake! It's the mask's effect!"
"Yeah! It's bluffing! Nolan Mercer will shred him!"
"Kill him! Teach him who's in charge!"
A lot of people across the world clung to the same thought:
It's intimidation.
Nolan Mercer is still stronger.
Adrian Vale is still doomed.
And Nolan Mercer?
He wanted to believe it more than anyone.
But his body didn't agree.
Adrian Vale's presence wasn't "aura."
It wasn't "pressure."
It was the raw, biological terror of prey staring at its natural predator.
That fear—so unfamiliar it felt like a violation—made Nolan Mercer's mind twist it into rage.
His face contorted, swollen with hatred.
"You think you can scare me?! Don't make me laugh!!"
BOOM—!
He launched.
The ground cracked under his feet, forming a shallow crater as he burst forward.
He was fast—far beyond normal human limits.
In a blink, he was in front of Adrian Vale—
and his fist drove into Adrian Vale's abdomen with a sharp burst of wind.
A strike meant to drop him. To fold him. To make him kneel—so the "game" could begin.
THUD.
The hit landed clean.
The impact even kicked up a faint ripple of air behind Adrian Vale—proof of how brutal the force was.
And yet—
Adrian Vale didn't move.
No grunt.
No bend.
No stagger.
Not even a twitch.
It was like Nolan Mercer had punched a pillar.
The chat shattered again.
"That did NOTHING?!"
"I could feel that punch through the screen!"
"Is the Black Reaper armor immune to blunt force too?!"
"No way—there's no padding—no buffer—how—?!"
Nolan Mercer's eyes widened.
"This… isn't possible!"
His rage snapped again—and then his real move came out.
The dagger he'd hidden behind his back—
the Rustscar Dagger—a D-rankDivine Domain: Forbidden Zone weapon—
shot forward like a viper and stabbed straight at Adrian Vale's chest.
"DIE!"
This wasn't testing.
This was execution.
The blade struck—
SCRAPE—!
It didn't sink in.
It bounced.
Worse—the force redirected the path, turning the stab into a harsh slash across Adrian Vale's chest.
The viewers inhaled so hard it was audible.
"HE STILL DIDN'T GET CUT?!"
"That dagger split a competitor in half before!"
"How is he not bleeding?!"
"Cheating—he's cheating—!"
"Shut up. You try 'cheating' inside the Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone."
Then someone screamed:
"LOOK—IT'S NOT THE SUIT!"
And they were right.
The Black Reaper outfit had been torn open.
You could clearly see Adrian Vale's skin beneath.
But his skin—
hadn't even gained a scratch.
Not a line.
Not a mark.
To Nolan Mercer, the sensation was unmistakable.
He hadn't stabbed flesh.
He'd stabbed steel.
Hard, terrifying steel.
He stumbled back two steps, hands faintly trembling.
"You… you…!"
Then his brain snapped again.
"AAAAAAH—!!"
He went berserk, slashing over and over—faster and faster—until his arms became afterimages.
Steel flashed.
Fabric shredded.
But nothing bled.
Nothing broke.
Nothing gave.
The Eastern Isles stream fell into dead silence.
Then turned vicious.
"What is he?! Why won't he die?!"
"Nolan Mercer—are you useless?!"
"So he was never strong—he's just a fraud!"
"This is impossible… this is impossible…"
And Nolan Mercer nearly collapsed into the same thought.
Am I… the useless one?
To prove he wasn't, he spun and stabbed a nearby boulder.
BOOM!
Stone exploded into fragments.
Nolan Mercer stared at the destruction, laughing too loudly.
"I'm not weak! I'm not weak! I'M NOLAN MERCER!!"
Then his eyes snapped back to Adrian Vale—
and the laughter died.
Because the question returned, sharper than ever:
If I can do this… why can't I hurt him?
And that's when Adrian Vale finally looked… bored.
Night had fully arrived.
The forest sank into darkness.
Only one light remained—
the deep, ominous red glow of Adrian Vale's four Rinkaku.
They drifted behind him like hands from hell.
Then—
KRAK.
That familiar, crisp sound.
Adrian Vale snapped another finger.
No one laughed now.
It didn't feel like self-harm anymore.
It felt like preparation.
From the darkness, his voice came flat and cold:
"So… is it my turn now?"
Every viewer's heart tightened.
Because everyone understood—
the real scene was about to begin.
SHRRAK—!
The four Rinkaku halted mid-sway.
Then, as if responding to a single thought—
they moved.
Upper left.
Upper right.
Lower left.
Lower right.
Adrian Vale in the center.
The four Rinkaku bent at perfect right angles, glowing with murderous crimson—
and all four tips aligned on Nolan Mercer.
Like a throne guarded by four executioners.
Like a king ringed by blades.
And in that moment—
the world finally understood.
This wasn't a "scary mask."
This wasn't "special effects."
This wasn't bluffing.
This was—
Ghoul Adrian Vale.
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