The Thieves Guild stood above the ruins of law and order.
A fortress hidden between broken dimensions and forgotten trade routes, ruled not by kings—but by Ricardo.
The Reincarnation of Wrath.
Seated at the center of the guild hall, he listened without emotion as reports came in.
Then he spoke.
"Send the Ten Blades."
No hesitation followed.
No questions.
Only obedience.
The order spread instantly across the underworld network.
Assassination protocol: Jhonathan.
Terminate the Undying Variable.
---
Far away, an orc named Ralph stood in silence.
His hands trembled slightly as memories resurfaced.
His village.
Burned.
Destroyed by a hooded man wielding twin hook chains that dragged everything living toward him like prey.
That man was not just a destroyer.
He was one of the Ten Blades.
Riot.
---
Ralph had survived that day.
But survival came at a cost.
In another battle, he was forced to sever his own arm just to escape the chains that tried to pull him apart.
And during that chaos—
his little brother, Leerooey, was taken.
Lost to the battlefield.
Lost to the system.
---
Now, years later, Ralph stood frozen.
Because Leerooey was in front of him again.
Alive.
But not alone.
Beside him stood an armored knight and a strange blue spirit.
Ralph's breath caught.
Relief surged through him.
For the first time in years… hope returned.
"Leerooey…" he whispered.
---
Then—
the air snapped.
Two hook chains exploded forward from nowhere.
Instant attack.
No warning.
No mercy.
Riot had arrived.
---
Jhonathan moved instantly.
A rock flew upward from the ground, intercepted mid-air, and slammed into one of the hooks.
CRACK.
One chain shattered completely.
The second recoiled—but immediately reformed itself, mana flowing backward through space as the weapon restored its original structure like time itself rejected damage.
Riot descended from above.
Hooded.
Silent.
Behind him—
two more figures from the Ten Blades landed.
The pressure in the air multiplied instantly.
Even breathing became heavier.
Ralph stepped forward.
His eyes darkened.
"…So you're all here."
His rage wasn't loud.
It was controlled.
Sharp.
Riot tilted his head slightly, studying the group.
Then smirked faintly.
"Survivors," he said.
The ground beneath them cracked.
Ralph's body shifted.
Muscles tightened.
Mana surged.
He raised his arms.
From the ruins of his will, two massive axes of condensed energy formed.
Behind him, Rop and Rap stepped forward at the same time.
Their hands slammed into the ground.
A massive magic circle ignited.
Stone rose.
Metal twisted.
A golem formed—towering, unstable, roaring with borrowed life.
It turned its head toward Riot and the Ten Blades.
Then charged.
---
"LION'S AXE!"
A figure shouted from the battlefield edge.
A massive strike landed directly on the golem's arm, staggering it mid-motion and cracking its structure.
The battlefield exploded into chaos.
---
Riot watched everything unfold calmly.
Then raised his hook chains again.
And smiled.
"This will be fun," he said quietly.
The Ten Blades moved in.