One week after the incident involving Seth, the chaos had almost faded into the background—if not forgotten entirely by those not directly affected. But news had a way of slipping through cracks, especially when the Ragnar family was involved.
Across the border, in the neighbouring country of Korea, word reached the higher circles within a single day. Whispers spread through guild halls and elite estates alike.
A disturbance in the Ragnar mansion. A confrontation. A failed abduction.
People speculated, exaggerated, invented their own versions.
After all, the Ragnar family was not just wealthy—they were powerful. Their name carried weight far beyond Acirema's borders.
But while the outside world was buzzing, the interior of the Ragnar estate remained calm, almost deceptively so.
Inside those walls, Seth was strictly ordered to rest. His body had healed, but the lingering exhaustion from the incident was something even the family's healers advised him not to ignore.
Meanwhile, Leo and Damian were anything but resting.
They spent their days tracing every thread connected to the attack—who orchestrated it, why Sophie had been involved, and what the true intention behind the attempt to take Seth was. The deeper they dug, the clearer it became that the event wasn't random.
Someone had planned it.
And someone powerful enough had executed it.
But the reason behind wanting Seth specifically… that remained a shadow neither of them could yet grasp.
They interrogated Sophie and asked about the details but she refused revealing a lot of details, but some came to light.
They had interrogated Sophie for days. She refused to reveal much, dodging questions with half-truths or silence. Still, a few pieces of the truth managed to slip through.
Now, seated across from her in the dim interrogation chamber, Leo placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. His expression hardened—calm, but carrying that unmistakable aura of authority that came from standing at the peak of strength.
"Tell us why you tried abducting Seth," Leo said, voice low and edged with restraint. "Even after I warned you not to try anything funny."
Sophie looked away, jaw tight, fingers trembling on her lap.
Leo wasn't just any Titan.
He was world-class.
Ranked 23rd among the strongest Titans alive.
His presence alone pressed on the room like gravity.
Sophie swallowed, refusing to meet his eyes. "I… I told you already. I didn't intend to hurt him."
"That," Leo replied, "is not what I asked."
Damian, standing behind her with arms crossed, added, "You coordinated with outsiders. Two high-grade threats infiltrated our home. At least one of them knew Seth's name. That doesn't happen by coincidence."
Sophie's shoulders tensed.
Leo lowered his voice. "Who ordered it, Sophie?"
She finally looked up—fear flickering across her eyes, but layered with something else.
A warning.
"I can't tell you," she whispered. "You don't understand what will happen if I do."
"Try me," Leo said.
Sophie shook her head, voice barely audible. "If I talk… they won't just come for me. They'll come for Seth. For all of you. And they won't fail the second time."
Damian stepped forward. "Who are 'they'?"
Sophie opened her mouth, hesitated—
then closed it, trembling.
Silence thickened the room.
Leo slowly straightened. "If you're protecting someone… or afraid of someone… that only means we're closer to the truth than I thought."
Sophie's eyes widened slightly.
Leo's gaze sharpened. "And trust me, Sophie. We will find out who it is."
As Leo and Damian left Sophie in the interrogation chamber, they signaled for the guards to escort her to a holding cell for the night.
Two guards entered—standard procedure.
Cold metal cuffs clicked around Sophie's wrists.
But then—
DRIP!
A thin line of blood slid from Sophie's nostril.
Her breathing spiked.
Her pupils shrank.
And then, right before their eyes, her irises dulled into a lifeless grey, and her once-light hair darkened into an ominous, ink-black shade—as if the color was being drained out of her body.
"W–wait—" one guard stepped back.
Sophie gagged.
Splatter.
She coughed a mouthful of dark blood onto the ground.
Then she lifted her head… and froze.
Because the guard closest to her—the one holding her shoulder—
was smiling.
Not kindly.
Not nervously.
A smile of someone who already knew this was going to happen.
A smile that said everything was unfolding exactly as planned.
Sophie's voice came out broken, barely a whisper.
"Y… you… knew…"
The guard leaned closer, eyes gleaming with a fanatical devotion.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
"But they ordered this."
Sophie's body convulsed. Blood streamed from her nose, her eyes, even the corners of her lips.
"It's all for her," the guard continued, almost reverent.
"For the Nightshade Goddess."
Sophie's body stiffened—
then collapsed violently, foam and blood spilling from her mouth, limbs twitching before going completely still.
Her eyes remained open.
Grey, empty and gone.
The other guard stumbled back in horror.
The smiling one simply lowered his head, whispering something under his breath—some kind of prayer or chant—before turning toward the door.
And from the shadows, unnoticed, a faint, purple-black mist curled away from Sophie's corpse.
As if something unseen had just finished feeding.
As Sophie's lifeless body lay on the cold floor, the faint trace of purple-black mist began to thicken.
At first, it drifted like smoke.
Then it pulsed—alive and hungry.
Within seconds, the mist swarmed Sophie, swallowing her corpse entirely.
Her silhouette disappeared under the writhing cloud, and the sound of soft, wet crackling echoed from inside it… as if something was breaking down and consuming her body piece by piece.
The remaining guard staggered back, horrified.
"W–what is that!? What's happening to h—"
SLICE!
A long, purple, thorned vine burst from the smiling guard's palm.
Before the terrified guard could scream, the vine shot forward, wrapping around his throat, his chest, his arms—
SQUEEZE!
Bones cracked instantly.
The guard's legs dangled in the air as the vine tightened again, thorns digging deep into his neck. Blood streamed down his uniform as his eyes bulged, his face turning purple—
Then SNAP!!
His body dropped to the floor like a rag doll.
The smiling guard—no, the fanatic—lifted his blood-stained hand and looked at it with trembling delight. His cheeks flushed red with worshipful devotion.
He spread his arms wide, face twisted with euphoric madness.
"All hail…"
His voice wavered, overwhelmed with emotion.
"All hail the beautiful…"
His grin stretched unnaturally wide.
"The most strong…"
His eyes shined with purple fanatic light.
"The divine one—"
He inhaled sharply, as if speaking her name itself was a sacred privilege.
"The Nightshade Goddess!"
The purple mist behind him surged upward like a beast reacting to its master's praise.
His smile deepened, trembling with joy.
And slowly… the mist began to spread toward the doorway.