CHAPTER 106: THE SUPREMACY ARC, PART 9

[Congratulations! You have acquired a brand-new Kenketsu. Ability unlocked: God’s Grace. With it, you can summon a clot of blood and slice through space. Requirement: Ashmourne must be active.]

What was that voice...?

A woman’s voice. Cold — like an echo reverberating through my mind. It wasn’t external. It whispered from within me, like a dream, or a system prompt in some artificial simulation.

Strange... as a child, I loved playing games.

Taurus, if that’s you — stop screwing with me.

But no... this voice didn’t belong to Taurus. It was different. Soft. Almost maternal. Or maybe I’ve just forgotten what it’s like to hear a voice that isn’t soaked in hatred or war.

Something like this happened once before — during the Nightwatch mission... when I first awakened the Kenketsu of Taurus. There was a voice then too.

God’s Grace. I can feel it now — the ability to cleave through space using nothing but blood. But not yet. I can’t reveal I’ve grown stronger. I must hide it — for now.

Then — a flash.

My mother’s face. She appeared before me, clad in white velvet, her arms outstretched, floating above me like a spirit. For one moment, I felt her warmth.

And then... she vanished.

No. That can’t be real.

She’s gone. I’m just mourning her. I miss her too deeply.

She’s dead.

I killed her... with my own hands.

...

Some time later, Mujin summoned me.

We sat inside a luxurious private residence, nestled somewhere beyond the city’s edge.

Altair and Seojun were beside me. Across from us, Dmitriy Volkov lounged lazily in a leather chair.

Mujin spoke first:

"Dmitriy. I thank you for your years of assistance to the Mafia. But lately, there have been... leaks. The enemy is acting with suspicious precision. Care to explain?"

Volkov smirked.

"Well, man... when you’re face-to-face with death, anyone would cut a deal. I agreed to share intel with the Association — in exchange for my life. That’s all."

"How foolish of them to let you live," Mujin said coldly.

Dmitriy chuckled and sprawled across the chair like he owned it.

"Any reason we’re having this little chat right now? You want something from me — I can smell it."

"Just one thing," Mujin straightened his back. "The Demon King has ordered that you be spared. Otherwise, you’d already be dead for treason."

Dmitriy laughed out loud. Altair’s expression tightened. He clearly loathed the man.

"What a beautiful irony," Volkov clapped slowly. "Hearing this from the mouth of a terrorist. But there’s more to you than blind loyalty, I can tell. So — what do you really want?"

Mujin didn’t delay any longer.

"Your power can bolster our army. You bear the blood of Astaroth — and yet you squander it. Or do you still consider yourself human?"

"Human? No," Dmitriy scoffed. "But I’ve lived just fine without your flashy powers. My strength is in reading people. One look and I know their weaknesses — what they feel, what they think. I’m a man of psychology, not demonic theatrics."

"In any case, you have two choices: swear loyalty to Astaroth — or die."

"Ah. The ol’ ’join or die’ routine. How original."

Volkov spread his arms theatrically.

"And what do I get out of it?"

"Life," Mujin answered flatly. "You won’t be hunted by the girl with the katana. And when our side wins, you’ll live comfortably to see the world reborn."

"You clearly don’t understand what I mean," Volkov sat upright, eyes sharpening. "I’m talking about profit. What’s in it for me?"

His grin betrayed greed — wealth, power, immortality.

I turned away, disgusted. People like him — parasites who value nothing but themselves — repulsed me.

And then I realized: Dmitriy wasn’t Mujin’s trump card.

He was a pawn. A body to fill the ranks. Nothing more.

He had no unique power. Nothing that set him apart. Just an opportunist.

When the conversation ended, I didn’t even glance back at him. I stood and left in silence.

That girl with the katana... the one they spoke of. I’d heard of her. A nightmare for the Mafia.

She hated Volkov. Deeply.

If I were to orchestrate their meeting... would she take my side?

Meanwhile

Night had draped the Orange Zone in silver. Neon lights shone the streets.

Aruya glided through the alleys like a shadow, a white tiger cub padding silently at her heels.

She knew these streets better than the police ever could. To them, she was a fugitive. But to this city’s darkness — she was its queen.

One thought haunted her:

Volkov was free.

And now — she would not rest until she found him.

Association Headquarters. The next morning.

Sashi sat in her office, the air heavy with silence.

Across from her sat Jisun, flipping through reports.

"Sashi," he said, eyes narrowed. "I can’t get Mordred out of my head. He speaks in riddles. Hidden meanings. As if every word is code."

"Mordred — in the old legend — was a traitor. He betrayed Arthur. It fits his narrative perfectly."

"Or maybe," Jisun looked out the window, "he’s the face of Umbra. His so-called peace offer might just be a ploy to incite a greater disaster. The one he keeps warning about. That might be the true meaning of his name — the end of humanity."

Sashi shivered.

"...That’s possible."

"But we can’t drown in paranoia," Jisun snapped. "He made the first move. He asked to talk. We can’t ignore that. Still... there’s something off. Remember the story he told? Betraying his own kind? That’s exactly what the Demon of Hatred did."

Sashi’s eyes widened.

"You’re right..."

"Whatever the truth, I’ll say this — if he turns out to be Umbra, I’ll end him myself. I don’t care how many citizens worship him."

They stood and walked into the corridor.

"Jisun... do you think Umbra has tamed the Serpent Demon? That thought... keeps me awake at night. If Umbra really..."

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Her body collapsed.

Jisun rushed forward, catching her before she hit the floor.

"Hey. How long has it been since you slept?"

Sashi slowly opened her eyes. His arms were warm.

"...Sorry. I just can’t relax. I think I’m breaking down these days."

"Take a break. Go rest."

"It won’t help..."

Jisun exhaled.

"Then come walk with me. Some air might help."

"...Yes. I’d like that."

—

Days passed.

And then came the promised moment.

Mordred had vowed to appear publicly. The Association agreed to the terms: he would walk onto the main street at noon, where a helicopter would lift him directly to HQ.

And so it happened.

A man in a black mask and dark kimono stepped out into the light.

Crowds had already gathered along the boulevard. Police and military guarded the perimeter, shouting for people to step back.

The helicopter arrived — its roar and wind scattering the crowd. Mordred climbed aboard.

The flight was streamed live. All across the Green Zone, thousands watched. More than the government had predicted.

Umbra agents were hidden among the crowds.

Some fanatics held signs that read: "Shields Up for Mordred!"

Finally, the helicopter landed on the roof of the Association building.

Mordred stepped out. Wind tugged at his robes as he stood on the edge.

The city stretched beneath him like something cradled in his palms.

Below — tens of thousands of people watched him on massive screens.

Behind him, footsteps echoed.

He turned.

Jisun.

No exosuit — but ready to summon both weapon and armor at a moment’s notice.

The hunter adjusted his glasses.

"So. The long-awaited meeting," he said. "The prophet in the flesh. Now then — what is it you wanted to talk about?"

They stood face-to-face — two titans — in the center of the world’s attention.