Sung Jin Ezio woke up choking on air that tasted too clean.
Not the metallic breath of Neo-Eden. Not the rain-soaked stink of alleys and gun oil. This air was cold and sharp, like mountain wind that didn't care if you lived or died.
He tried to sit up. Pain bloomed behind his eyes, not like a headache—like something pressed against his skull from the inside. A quiet pressure, as if a language was sleeping in his bones.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then memory crashed in.
Ren's blood.Ren's hand gripping his sleeve.The chip whispering take me.The Red Code burning through his mind.The void.
Ezio's hand flew to the back of his neck.
No implant.No port.No scar.
His fingers didn't feel like they used to. They weren't calloused, weren't trained. They felt… young.
He looked down.
Silk robes. Thin. Cheap. Noble from a distance, humiliating up close. A cloth belt. No armor. No blade. No gun.
Ezio's heart started racing.
"This isn't—" His voice came out hoarse.
He pushed himself upright. The floor beneath him was smooth black stone, polished until it reflected him like dark water. Strange lines were carved into it—angular, sharp, almost like code.
When he tried to focus on them, his head throbbed.
He looked up.
A vast terrace stretched out before him, carved into the side of a cliff. Above, two moons hung in the sky—one silver, one faintly red. Mountains rose in the distance like the spines of sleeping gods, wrapped in slow-moving clouds. Waterfalls spilled down unseen heights.
It was beautiful.
And it didn't feel real.
A deep bell rang behind him, vibrating through the stone and through his chest.
Ezio turned.
A grand hall stood open behind him, supported by towering pillars carved with strange symbols—swords, coins, masks, chains, lovers' knots, horns. Pale blue flames burned in lanterns along the walls, casting sharp shadows.
Inside, dozens of people stood in organized rows.
They weren't common.
They moved like they belonged to power.
Their eyes were calm in the way only kings and monsters were calm.
Ezio took one step forward.
Gazes flicked toward him—then slid away, already bored.
A servant in gray approached and bowed stiffly. "Sixth Prince," the servant said. "You are late."
Ezio blinked. "Sixth… Prince?"
The servant didn't react. "The assembly has begun. Follow."
Ezio's stomach tightened.
Prince?
He followed into the hall.
At the front rose a platform with five thrones, each carved with a different crest. Five figures stood or sat near them.
One was a tall warrior with braided blond hair and eyes that held war itself.
Another lounged with a lazy, dangerous smile, eyes scanning the room like he owned every secret in it.
A third sat straight, gaze calculating, hands folded like invisible contracts.
A fourth wore black robes etched with faint symbols that made Ezio's skin crawl.
The fifth held a small carved charm, eyes deep and unreadable.
Ezio didn't know their names.
He knew they were legends.
At the center stood a tall man in white and gold—the Regent. His voice echoed through the chamber.
"Princes of the House of Ix. Heirs of the void. The annual sect allocation begins."
Ezio swallowed.
House of Ix…
Hundreds of disciples stood in rows, wearing armor, silk, masks, talismans, and rings. They watched the princes like the princes decided their future.
Ezio felt something cold settle in his gut.
Whatever this world was…
He was already behind.
The Regent raised his hand, and the entire hall fell silent.
"First Prince—Ragnar Lothbrok—Bloodwave Clan. Raider Sect."
The tall warrior rose. He did not smile. He did not bow. He simply existed, and that was enough. Fur-clad disciples knelt before him like wolves acknowledging their alpha.
"Second Prince—Giacomo Casanova—Velvet Pavilion. Intelligence Sect."
The elegant man laughed softly and gave a lazy wave. His followers—beautiful men and women in silk—bowed like they were offering their hearts.
"Third Prince—Niccolò Machiavelli—Golden Citadel. Wealth Sect."
The scholar-faced prince inclined his head once. Merchants and financiers bowed deeply, eyes full of hunger.
"Fourth Prince—Grigori Rasputin—Hex Code Sect. Curse Sect."
A chill spread through the hall. His disciples in black lowered their heads. One looked up briefly, eyes glowing with something that wasn't human.
"Fifth Prince—Solomon—Astral Court. Exorcist Sect."
Solomon lifted his charm. A faint shimmer passed through the air as spirit-bound disciples bowed in unison.
Then the Regent's gaze turned toward the last empty space.
"The Sixth Prince—Sung Jin Ezio."
Ezio stepped forward.
There was no throne waiting for him.
Only a bare stone platform below the others.
The Regent's voice was cold. "Sectless."
A ripple of soft laughter moved through the disciples.
"No sect. No disciples. No resources."
Ezio felt heat rise in his face.
Ragnar didn't even look at him.Casanova gave him a quick amused glance.Machiavelli looked at him the way you look at a worthless coin.
The Regent turned away. "The assembly is concluded."
The princes left with their followers.
Ezio was left alone.
A servant finally approached. "Your quarters are in the lower wing, Sixth Prince."
Lower wing.
Ezio walked away in silence, feeling smaller with every step.
In this world of legends…
He was nothing.
Ezio's room was small.
Not a prince's chamber. Not even a noble's. Just a bed, a cracked mirror, and a thin blanket that looked like it had never known warmth.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing hard.
Sectless.No resources.No followers.
He had gone from being hunted by megacorporations to being ignored by gods.
Ezio stared at the mirror.
The face looking back was young and unfamiliar. Soft. Weak. A prince shaped by someone who stopped caring halfway through.
Ren's face flickered in his mind.
"I'm sorry," Ezio whispered. "I should've saved you."
Something stirred at the base of his skull.
The Red Code.
It didn't hurt.
It waited.
A quiet pressure, like a beast curled around his thoughts.
Then—
Someone clapped.
Slowly.
Ezio spun around.
A man sat on his windowsill like gravity was optional. Black suit. Bare feet. Hair dark as spilled ink. A grin far too bright for the night.
"Well damn," the man said. "They really stuck you in the bargain bin."
Ezio's heart slammed. "Who are you?"
The man hopped down lightly. "Rude. No hello? No scream? You're no fun."
Ezio stepped back. "How did you get in here?"
The man leaned close, eyes glinting. "I don't use doors."
Ezio felt the Red Code twitch.
The man noticed and smiled wider. "Ah. There it is."
"You know about it," Ezio said.
"I know about anything that smells like sin," the man replied. He spread his arms theatrically. "Name's Lucifer. Prince of charm, king of bad ideas, and your new favorite problem."
Ezio swallowed. "The… Lucifer?"
Lucifer waved it off. "Titles are exhausting. Let's stick with handsome stranger."
Ezio clenched his fists. "Why are you here?"
Lucifer circled him slowly. "Because you're deliciously empty. No sect. No power. No love. No future."
Ezio flinched.
Lucifer grinned. "Relax, kiddo. That's not an insult. That's potential."
Ezio shook his head. "Empty isn't power."
Lucifer tapped Ezio's chest. "Empty is a container."
The Red Code pulsed softly.
Lucifer's eyes gleamed. "And you're carrying a very naughty language in there."
Ezio whispered, "Ix…"
Lucifer chuckled. "Oh, that dramatic void-jester? Yeah, he tossed you into the game."
Ezio stared. "Game?"
Lucifer leaned back against the wall. "Your brothers have armies. They have sects. They have everything."
He looked at Ezio.
"You have nothing."
Lucifer smiled slowly.
"And nothing breaks systems."
Ezio's voice trembled. "What do you want from me?"
Lucifer leaned close, breath warm. "Chaos. Desire. Greed. All the fun stuff."
Ezio felt anger and humiliation twist inside him.
Lucifer laughed softly. "There it is. That ache? That's where your sins will grow."
Ezio glared. "Get out."
Lucifer's grin sharpened. "Soon. But first…"
He snapped his fingers.
Red symbols flickered briefly in the air—alive, writhing, gone.
Lucifer bowed slightly. "Welcome to hell, Prince of Nothing."
Then he vanished.
Ezio stood alone, heart pounding.
The Red Code stirred.
And for the first time since Ren died…
Ezio felt something that wasn't grief.
It was hunger.