— PACT OF THE NETHERWORLD —
In the chill embrace of the graveyard, the soil atop a solitary grave began to shift. A pool of blood welled up from beneath, gathering, coiling, and twisting upward until it sculpted itself into a humanoid silhouette.
It opened its maw in a vicious, dragging inhale. Wandering wraiths, vengeful spirits, and the deathly miasma drifting through the cemetery were pulled into it in a single ravenous sweep. Its crimson eyes blazed awake, sharpened to predatory focus by the scent of fresh blood.
"Damn you... Eren... To think you could kill me? But you never imagined—I've mastered the Orochi Divine Art... and I have eight lives."
This was Kuro—slain once by Eren.
Suddenly—
Whoosh.
A veil of black mist seeped out from the void, spreading without a whisper. Within the fog, a blurred figure took shape—his robes trailing like shadows, his white hair drifting in a wind that did not exist. Ghostly aura and demonic force intertwined around him like the ebb and flow of hell's own tide.
"Kuro, why is the stench of your serpent form so faint?" The voice emerging from the mist was gravelly, laced with open, unbothered mockery.
"Bakayarou! You damn fox—seeking death?" Kuro's red glow flared, his slit pupils narrowing into venomous blades.
"Fight?"
The figure chuckled, the sound steeped in contempt.
"In your half-dead state? Right now, you couldn't even take on the shadow of my shadow. Speak. Should I put you down where you stand... or give you a moment to breathe before I erase you?"
A rancid, bestial stench rippled outward, and the graveyard's temperature plunged.
Kuro's expression sank.
"Kurobane, enough. You and I both know—even weakened, I'm beyond your ability to kill. If you could've done it, you would have long ago."
He paused, his scarlet pupils contracting to a thin, icy line.
"I summoned you because there is a target that must be dealt with."
"Oh?"
Kurobane's tone shifted—interest flickering beneath the cold.
"A Vigil-Wyrm," Kuro said, voice like frozen iron. "One who commands thunder and flame—the natural nemesis of us Onmyoji. As long as he breathes, the Wyrm Extermination Plan cannot advance. He must die."
The air itself stalled.
"A thunder-and-flame-wielding Vigil-Wyrm?"
Kurobane let out a low, amused breath.
"So that's who handed you such a humiliation."
After a brief silence, he gave his answer.
"For the sake of the plan... I can join you. Temporarily."
"Good. Once I recover for a few days, we'll—"
"Hush."
Kurobane's voice knifed through the night—sharp, urgent.
"Damn it—the Vigil-Wyrms are here. Move!"
The two shadows were ripped into the void, vanishing in an instant, leaving only the mournful wind whistling through the gravestones.
---
— THE HUNT FOR THE LOST —
Moments later, three black-cloaked figures swept through the night, landing at the edge of the cemetery where the shadow energy had only just begun to fade.
They were GVA Operative Team Ethan.
Xunhuan Lee inhaled deeply, his pupils narrowing to pinpoints.
"Ghost residue. Blood scent. And demonic miasma. Something heavily tainted was definitely here."
Johan frowned, voice low and tight.
"Captain... those infant disappearance cases—could it really just be traffickers?"
"Unlikely." Ethan's tone was a blade drawn in the dark.
"Ordinary trafficking doesn't make dozens of infants vanish overnight. On this scale... there's only one explanation—someone is preparing a sacrificial dark ritual."
He turned to Xunhuan Lee, who was still analyzing the air.
"Can you trace the residual aura any farther?"
Xunhuan crouched, breathing quick and shallow.
"...No. The trail's been cut. Severed intentionally."
The atmosphere tightened like stretched wire.
Johan gripped his weapon.
"Should we call Eren? He's part of GVA now too."
Ethan hesitated, then shook his head.
"Not yet. His final court verdict hasn't been issued. Unless it's absolutely necessary, we can't involve him in a case of this magnitude."
He had barely finished speaking—
Xunhuan's head snapped up.
"Captain! One of the shadow traces... it's heading toward the city—and fast!"
The night wind turned knife-cold.
The three exchanged glances, their expressions hardening in unison.
---
— A BLOODY BARGAIN —
A dark vortex slowly tore open above the ruins of the Vale estate, howling with a spectral wind that made the rubble tremble.
From the depths of the black mist stepped a figure, his voice low and edged with disbelief.
"...What happened here? I was gone mere moments, and the entire estate has become a slaughterhouse. Did I... come to the wrong place?"
"K-Kurobane-sama—!"
A ragged, despairing cry burst from a heap of broken debris.
William staggered out, filthy and blood-soaked, his eyes hollow as if scooped clean.
"You... you must avenge us!"
The black mist shimmered. Kurobane lifted his head, his indistinct, spectral eyes narrowing.
"Patriarch Vale... what did this? An artillery strike? A full regiment? How does a household end up in this state?"
"It wasn't the military..."
William's voice was a raw scrape.
"It was Eren! That damned bastard—he annihilated the entire Vale clan! Even my son... he..."
His words dissolved into broken sobs.
"Patriarch Vale, spare yourself the despair. As long as you are willing to pay the proper price, I can give you more than vengeance—"
Kurobane's whisper slid like a serpent's tongue beside William's ear,
"—I can drag your son... and your ancestor... back from the depths of hell itself."
William collapsed to his knees, trembling violently.
"Kurobane-sama! Whatever it takes... please... save them!"
"Heh... Then allow me to give you... a glimpse."
Two slender tendrils of absolute darkness darted from the mist, boring into the facial orifices of Damien and Vortigern's cold corpses.
Crack—
Grind, grind, grind—
The corpses convulsed violently, joints splitting and twisting with grotesque cracks.
Then—
They snapped upright in perfect unison.
Their eyes were void—blank, empty, hollowed clean.
No breath.
No pulse.
No life.
William froze.
This wasn't resurrection.
It was puppetry.
"K-Kurobane-sama... they...?"
"They can move, obey orders, and kill. That naturally qualifies as 'alive.'"
Kurobane's voice was frigid.
"They are your kin. From now on, they will remain by your side—forever."
William's face was corpse-white, held together only by hatred and desperation.
"Thank you, my lord...! I'll take them and kill Eren at once!"
"Patience."
The black mist curled, forming what felt like a cold smile.
"The one who could fell your ancestor Vortigern possesses strength approaching the Ascendant Saint realm. Rush in now, and you'll simply get yourself—and your 'family'—killed a second time."
William swallowed, forcing his terror down.
"Then... what does my lord require?"
The mist pressed closer, suffocatingly cold.
"You already know. Your son made a promise—
for the nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine..."
The air froze.
William flinched, but only for half a second.
"...Understood. I'll acquire them."
The Vale household lay in ruins—his clan dead, his name disgraced.
But he still had wealth.
He still had influence.
And he had hatred burning through his bones.
To kill Eren—
he was willing to drown the entire city in blood.
---
— GATHERING STORM —
After leaving the ruins of the Vale estate, Eren—still a prisoner—had no choice but to return to his cell.
He closed his eyes. His consciousness sank into the depths of the Nurturing Gourd.
Seraphine lay suspended in the spiritual radiance, like a rose locked in eternal twilight—silent, fragile, heartbreakingly still.
Eren gazed at her, a soft light rising in his eyes.
"Seraphine... Damien and the entire Vale bloodline have been judged. Your vengeance... I have delivered it."
His voice lowered.
"Just a little longer. No matter the price... I will bring you back."
A shadow glinted across his expression as memory dragged him into the storm—his near-fatal battle against Vortigern.
That man had been a true titan. A force of nature.
Had he not underestimated Eren for even a breath, Eren would have died in that grave of wind and flame.
But in desperation, opportunity had bloomed.
In that crucible—where lightning, wind, and fire collided—Eren had unexpectedly shattered his limit.
Wind, Thunder, Flame — three elements woven into one body.
His strength had multiplied severalfold, even tenfold.
But immense power demanded a ravenous price.
Running three elements simultaneously drained energy like a bottomless abyss.
Without mountains of herbs and spirit stones, continuing cultivation would become impossible.
Footsteps approached.
"What's with the funeral face?"
Selene leaned against the bars, arms folded, her smirk sharp enough to cut.
Eren shot her a tired look. "I need herbs. Fast. If you don't get them for me soon, I swear I'll blast you straight out of here."
Selene blinked—then dramatically clutched her chest.
"Ouch. That hurt. So all the bonding we've been through means nothing to you now?"
Eren instantly straightened.
"Wait—hey—feelings are one thing, herbs are another! Don't mix those!"
Selene stared at him like he was beyond saving.
Buzz—
Buzz—
Buzz—
His phone vibrated violently.
Caller ID: Darius.
Eren answered. "Darius—"
A strange, languid laugh oozed out from the other end.
"You must be Eren, right? Heard you're looking to buy a mountain of herbs. Lucky for you... I have more than enough. Come over—we'll talk."
It sounded like a casual invitation.
But the tone... carried the cold arrogance of a king summoning a subject.
Eren's eyes chilled. "Who are you? Where is Darius?"
"Relax. He's alive. For now. Still breathing—barely."
The voice chuckled softly.
"But if you don't come... he might stop."
Silence thickened.
Eren forced down the killing intent boiling in his veins.
"Fine. Location?"
"Medicine Capital.
Herbal Sovereign's Manor."
Click—
The line went dead, leaving behind a cold, empty hum that seemed to seep into the cell.