In the Name Of God, the Most Merciful
The emptiness of the underground was still as silent as ever. A cold wind and the stench of death hung in the air.
One could feel all the misery of those who had the misfortune of dying in this place.
Clack… Clack… Clack… The sound of small footsteps broke the silence.
A young man with a top hat and a fitted dark coat over a crisp white shirt walked through the empty hallway, heading for the exit.
It was Ricky.
He saw the light of the exit, and right before stepping out, he looked back into the darkness one last time.
"Phew… finally some fresh air. I felt like my lungs were going to rot if I stayed a little longer," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath.
It was nighttime. The crimson moon shone brightly, just like on that fateful day.
But something was different. Nighttime used to belong to the vampires. Their hour to roam freely while humans stayed hidden in their homes like rats.
At least… that's how it was before.
Now, the streets were no longer like that. Instead, humans roamed around at night just as they did during the day. The roads were crowded with people, and the shops were busy doing business. The vampires were nowhere to be seen.
Ricky walked carefully along the busy footpath, trying his best not to bump into passersby.
Some shopkeepers seemed to recognize him, smiles brightening their faces upon seeing him.
"Mr. Falkner! Fresh apples today, straight off the cart! Here, try one!" said a fruit seller as he tossed an apple toward Ricky.
Ricky caught it expertly and replied, "Thanks! I'll come back later for some grapes."
"Ho, Ricky! You'll not find cod fresher than mine down this street!" called out a fishmonger.
"As usual, I see. But be careful, old man, or I might find your body floating in the ocean one of these days," Ricky replied jokingly.
"Blessings on you, lad! Care for a rose for the road?" asked a flower seller.
"No thanks, I have yet to find a lady to gift it to," Ricky said.
The atmosphere was cheerful, as if the people had completely forgotten the terror the vampires had subjected them to a few years ago.
The joy of the crowd could make anyone forget that vampires even existed, but Ricky knew better.
As he walked, his mind began to race.
Now that I've become the so-called "King," should I let my fellow Veilkeepers know? Is that really a good idea? Would they even believe me? Yesterday, I was just a regular, defective human who failed to awaken multiple times. They'd probably laugh in my face if I suddenly claimed to be the King.
What about the higher-ups? The commanders might trust me… but the real question is, can I trust them? Are they actually trustworthy? They never shared any classified information with me. Of course, that made sense when I was just an unawakened human with no use for secret intel.
Gaining the King's power gave me answers of my own, so I don't strictly need to stay with the Veilkeepers anymore. But if I suddenly quit right after coming into contact with Shin's corpse ( the previous King ), they're bound to get suspicious.
Would hiding the truth even work? I don't know what kind of secrets the commanders are hiding. What if they can tell I've become the King the second they look at me? Those elves have sharp eyes; you never know what they might sense.
All things considered, the King is someone both Gehenis and the Veilkeepers are desperate to get their hands on. It's best to stay quiet for now and see how things play out.
Ricky had made up his mind.
From a distance, a girl waved her hand toward Ricky. Although he couldn't make out her face clearly through the crowd, he immediately knew who it was.
Ricky sighed softly and walked over to her.
"Is your training over already? I thought it would take longer than that," Ricky said, adjusting his hat.
The girl scratched her Cheek awkwardly. "Well, I was worried about you. Boss suddenly sent you on a mission with a high-level team." She offered a nervous smile, trying her best not to sound overly concerned.
Everything about her aesthetic was anchored in vibrant shades of green: from the long, dark emerald hair cascading past her shoulders to her saturated, luminous green eyes that caught the faint crimson moonlight. She wore a high-collared forest-green blouse under an olive leather bodice with layered panel skirts and laced arm bracers. The only soft accent on her practical gear was a small, pale green ribbon tied around her left bracer.
As she spoke, her hand instinctively drifted toward that ribboned wrist, a subtle habit whenever she forced her introverted nature to interact. She made direct eye contact for a moment too long before looking away quickly, nervously tucking a lock of green hair behind her pointed ear, only to pull it back over when she realized what she was doing.
Her speech was somewhat hesitant and youthful, a sharp contrast to Ricky's composed, gentlemanly manner. Her name was Sophie, an elf. Shorter than Ricky, she was quite introverted and deeply self-conscious about it, often forcing herself out of her comfort zone just to strike up conversations and fit in. Though they were officially teammates, Ricky considered their relationship to be somewhere between friends and acquaintances.
"It was nothing dangerous," Ricky replied as they began walking side by side. "Just a simple search mission."
"I see. It's… just a bit unusual for you to be sent on a field mission," Sophie stammered, fidgeting with her sleeves. "Considering… umm, you're still a Holder. I-I don't mean to be rude! Please… please don't misunderstand!"
Embarrassed, Sophie shook her head vigorously and took a quick step back to create some distance between them.
Dammit! I did it again! Curse my mouth... Why can't I just speak normally for once? she chided herself internally, her face flushing red.
Ricky narrowed his eyes and gave her an icy glare. "You dare disrespect me?" he growled in a surprisingly stern voice.
Sophie gasped, panic washing over her face. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it like that—"
Before a tear could fall, Ricky covered his mouth with his hand and broke into a soft laugh. "Haha, I'm just joking. I know what you meant. I was only teasing."
"Ugh! You meanie!" Sophie pouted in frustration, swinging a few harmless, childish punches toward his arm, taking care not to actually hurt him.
Ricky merely smiled in response.
After walking a short distance further, they arrived before a set of massive castle gates. Towering high behind the walls, the pointed spire of a grand cathedral stretched toward the crimson sky.
It was the very cathedral where Ricky had lost his right arm after being dragged in for researching the War of Miseria.
How could he ever forget that fateful night? Even now, the ghost of that pain lingered in his memory. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
Ricky looked down at his trembling right hand. Pulling back his coat sleeve revealed a prosthetic arm. An intricate piece of craftsmanship blending dark polished wood with complex, modern clockwork machinery. He had relied on this hand for years.
"Is something wrong?" Sophie asked, her tone shifting to genuine concern.
Ricky sighed, pushing the dark memories back into the shadows of his mind. "I'm fine. Let's go inside."
He stepped forward and knocked on the ironbound gate in a distinct rhythm: seven knocks, a pause, four knocks, a pause, one knock, a pause, and finally two knocks.
It was a standard security code. Seven and four represented Squad 74, while one and two formed 12, Ricky's individual ID number within the squad.
No verbal greeting came from the other side, but a small square viewport slid open in the heavy wood. Ricky reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out his Veilkeeper badge, and slipped it through the gap. A hand quickly retrieved it from within.
After a tense moment, the gravelly voice of a middle-aged man echoed through the opening.
"Have you brought the dry tea leaves I told you to bring?"
It was a strange phrase, but Ricky knew the protocol. The gatekeeper's query was a coded check: Are there any enemies trailing you?
Answering "Yes" meant a hostage situation, immediately triggering a high-priority alert directly to the boss so measures could be taken to neutralize the threat and rescue the operative. Answering "No" meant the coast was clear. And when traveling with an additional operative, protocol dictated using a specific template phrasing: I brought a melon from the [squad number] store on the [4th ID number] crossroad.
In a calm, deliberate tone, Ricky delivered the counter-passphrase: "Nope, but I brought a melon from the 74th store on the 12th crossroad."
All Veilkeepers are forced to memorize these complicated code matrices upon joining, Ricky thought to himself. I still remember the nightmare of trying to cram every single set into my head back then. But still... calling a girl a "melon" is a bit weird.
Hearing the correct squad and ID references embedded in the response, the gatekeeper's voice relaxed. "Show me her badge."
Sophie hurriedly fished her badge out of her pocket and slid it through the viewport.
After another brief pause, the guard spoke again. "Identification confirmed."
With a heavy grind of gears, the massive gates slowly swung inward.
Beyond the heavy gates, the cathedral courtyard buzzed with intense activity. The sounds of fresh trainees undergoing rigorous physical drills echoed off the stone walls. All across the courtyard, recruits were running laps, powering through push-ups, and hauling heavy weights.
High above on the long balcony of the cathedral, several cadets hung upside down by their ankles, a brutal endurance test designed to strain both mind and body.
Ricky watched them for a moment, a faint bittersweet feeling swelling in his chest. Reminds me of the old days...
Flanking the cathedral's main entrance stood two heavily built guards. Standing between them was a woman in her mid-thirties whose imposing presence commanded immediate respect. She wore a tailored green military general's coat with polished knee-high boots and fingerless leather gloves. Her fiery red hair was bound tightly in a braided bun. Every line of her posture spoke of a warrior built for battle rather than beauty.
This was Clara, the second-in-command of the Veilkeepers. She was the very woman who had spearheaded the raid on the Kikyo Nomiya tavern alongside the elven strike force on that fateful night, saving Ricky and Miyu from the vampires and taking them under the Veilkeepers' wing.
"Is the investigation finished already?" Clara asked, her deep, authoritative voice cutting through the courtyard noise as she spotted Ricky and Sophie. "That was rather quick. Did you find anything useful?"
"Yeah... we did," Ricky replied, his tone growing quiet and heavy. "We found him. But... he's been dead for a long time."
Though everyone (including Ricky) had secretly feared the worst regarding Shin, hearing the reality voiced aloud still hung heavy in the air.
Clara crossed her arms in quiet resignation, remaining silent for a moment out of respect for Ricky's grief. She let out a slow sigh. "You have my condolences, Ricky."
She paused, then continued, "Where is Miyu? The Boss has called an urgent council for all commanders, and there is going to be a major announcement today. As much as I understand her grief, this isn't the time to lose sense of direction."
Ricky raised an eyebrow. "She's still with the elves. Don't worry, she'll be here soon. She's strong, if my guess is right, this will only sharpen her drive for revenge."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction. "A commanders' meeting and a major announcement? That seems sudden. Did something happen?"
Within the Veilkeepers, top-tier intel was strictly classified. Only commanders were privy to operational strategies, high-grade weaponry, and tactical blueprints. More importantly, only the commanders knew the truth about the vampires, where they came from, how they were created, their ultimate purpose, and the mysterious "King" they served.
Low-tier operatives knew none of this. To the average operative, their motivation was simple: revenge. They were survivors who had suffered under the vampires' reign of terror, joining the Veilkeepers as the only force capable of fighting back against the evil syndicate known as Gehenis.
I used to think hiding that information was just to prevent mass panic, Ricky thought, analyzing Clara's guarded expression. And it makes sense. The masses couldn't handle those kinds of truths. But now...
Thanks to inheriting the King's power directly from Shin's corpse, Ricky now possessed knowledge that rivaled or perhaps even exceeded that of the leadership.
Does the Boss even have the full picture? Or are the commanders keeping secrets from everyone? For the first time since joining, a seed of doubt took root in Ricky's mind. Are the Veilkeepers truly standing up for humanity... or do they have an agenda of their own?
Knowing he couldn't risk exposing his newly inherited power, Ricky kept his expression completely neutral. It's better to keep quiet for now and dig for answers on my own.
"I can't give you exact details," Clara said, breaking his train of thought. "All I can say is that we anticipate Gehenis will make a move soon."
Ricky narrowed his eyes slightly, turning the statement over in his head.
Tension between Gehenis and the Veilkeepers had always simmered beneath the surface, but the past year had been unnervingly quiet. The calm before a storm. But for Gehenis to mobilize right after he discovered Shin's corpse was far too convenient.
Coincidence? Unlikely, Ricky mused. The timing is too precise.
Knowing Clara wouldn't reveal anything further without higher clearance, Ricky decided not to press the issue any deeper for now.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The heavy sound of rapid footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
Ricky, Sophie, and Clara all turned toward the noise. All three recognized those frantic steps instantly, but a sudden knot twisted in Ricky's stomach the moment he realized who was approaching.
It was a girl with short, messy black hair and sharp, mischievous eyes that practically screamed trouble. Her build was lean and athletic, clad in a fitted tactical jacket and dark cargo pants. She carried a heavy assault rifle with casual confidence, and a bulky, futuristic weapon was strapped tightly to her left arm. A sly, almost playful smirk rested on her face. The kind that made it impossible to guess what chaotic idea she was hatching next.
And one more thing. She loves weapons more than men.
She sprinted toward them, her smirk widening by the second. Without slowing down, she pulled something from her belt and tossed it straight at them.
Ricky's instincts took over before his mind could process the motion. He reached out and caught the object effortlessly. But the second his eyes registered what he was holding, blood drained from his face.
It was a live grenade. And the pin was already gone.
Panic surged through him. Acting on pure adrenaline, Ricky wound up and hurled the explosive toward the sky.
Then something strange happened.
The moment the grenade left his fingers, it blasted upward like a shooting star so insanely fast that it vanished from sight in the blink of an eye. There was no resistance, no strain. Just a flicker of overwhelming, supernatural force.
My power... Did I just unleash the King's strength by accident? Ricky stared at his hand in mild horror.
One... two... three...
BOOM!
A faint detonation echoed high up in the upper atmosphere, sounding less like an explosion and more like a distant bubble pop.
Ricky let out a long, ragged breath, slowly turning his glare toward the culprit.
Before he could speak, the girl sprinted up and hooked her arm around Ricky's neck in one swift motion, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs. She casually leaned her heavy assault rifle against his chest, grinning like a mischievous child who had just gotten away with a prank.
"Great throw! What'd you eat this morning, pure protein powder?" Her grin broadened. "Anyway, where've you been all day? Didn't I tell you I needed you to test my new weapon?"
This woman is my absolute worst nightmare... Ricky thought, feeling instantly drained.
And she truly was a nightmare. Her name was Celia, one of the six high commanders of the Veilkeepers, a brilliant psychopath and an absolute weapon fanatic. The primary reason Ricky dreaded seeing her was simple: she insisted on field-testing every single one of her dangerous new inventions on him, treating him as her personal guinea pig.
"What was that grenade for?!" Ricky demanded, scowling as he tried to pry her arm off his neck. "Are you trying to play terrorist inside the training grounds?"
Celia tilted her head, her playful smirk never wavering. "That's what you get for running off on a mission without telling me!"
Clara finally stepped in, her voice cutting through the banter like a blade. "Celia, you know very well this is no time for playing around. Save your childish pranks for later."
Celia playfully bit her tongue and let go of Ricky, turning to face Clara with a dramatic pout. "Ooooooh, come on! We're all going to die soon anyway. Why not have a little fun while we can?"
...Huh? We're all going to die? Ricky's eyes narrowed slightly. A chill ran down his spine. What is she talking about?
Clara stared at Celia in dead, heavy silence, an unspoken warning that she had said far too much.
"Urgh, fine. Total buzzkill," Celia grumbled, puffing out her cheeks in defeat.
Clara sighed, rubbing her temples before asking, "Anyway... have the others arrived yet?"
"Yup! Everyone's here except Julian," Celia replied, regaining her upbeat tone. "He should be here any second now."
Just as Celia spoke, a high-pitched sound echoed from the distance, a continuous, whining noise that built rapidly like a descending missile.
WNNNNN—!
Everyone paused, looking up toward the crimson sky. A massive, spherical contraption covered in spinning brass gears and a gilded framework tumbled down at dangerous speeds.
BOOM!
The mechanical sphere slammed into the courtyard's front lawn with a thunderous crash, carving a shallow crater into the stone and soil. Plumes of thick smoke flared out, turning into a hazy screen.
Cough! Cough!
Through the clearing smoke, a figure coughed his way out of the open hatch. He was a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with long, silver-white hair tied back, wearing a sleek, tailored jacket featuring sharp shoulder lapels and fine gold trimming. Over his right eye sat a delicate golden monocle, and his left arm was completely prosthetic—a heavy, intricately engineered robotic appendage.
"Julian!"
The instant Celia recognized him, her face lit up. She sprinted forward and leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in an aggressive hug that nearly sent both of them tumbling into the dirt.
This was Julian, another of the six Veilkeeper commanders and the organization's master engineer. He and Celia were frequent partners in crime—constructing, experimenting, and refining weapons together. Between the two, Julian possessed the deeper theoretical knowledge, often acting as the steadying anchor for Celia's wild creations. They are basically like buddies. At least that's what Celia thinks.
"Where on earth did you come from?" Clara asked, her voice dry and completely unbothered.
Neither she nor Ricky looked even slightly surprised. They all had too many experiences with each other to be surprised. When dealing with high-level commanders, bizarre entrances were practically a daily routine.
Sophie, however, was visibly startled, her hands clinging tightly to her bracer as her emerald eyes widened. Though she had been raised within the Veilkeepers since childhood, her naturally shy personality meant she rarely interacted with the elite commanders directly. To her, watching these legendary figures act so carelessly was always a shock.
Julian brushed off his coat with an apologetic smile. "My deepest apologies for the sudden landing, Clara. I was testing a new prototype for my latest transport drive, and... well, one calculation led to another, and here we are."
Clara shook her head with a weary sigh, deciding it was best not to press for further technical details. "You're the last one to arrive. I'll have the cadets clean up this crater later. We need to head inside for the council before we're late."
She turned toward Ricky and Sophie, her tone switching back to her firm, authoritative command. "You two, report to the main hall on the ground floor and assemble with your squad. Every team is required to wait there for the grand announcement."
Every team? Ricky thought, adjusting his top hat. Surely she doesn't mean all six hundred...
The organizational hierarchy of the Veilkeepers was strictly defined: the Boss stood at the apex, followed by the six Commanders, the operational Teams, and lastly, the Holders.
Cadets undergoing training under a commander were known as 'Holders.' During their tenure, they waited for the chance to be injected with the King's Embryo. If a candidate's body accepted the embryo, they awakened mysterious, supernatural powers and were officially assigned to a Team.
However, if their body rejected the embryo, they were branded a 'Defect.'
Defects were forced to remain Holders forever, unable to channel supernatural force and relying entirely on conventional firearms and tactical machinery.
Out of all six hundred squads in the Veilkeepers, Ricky belonged to Squad 599. He was a Defect—a Holder who had failed to awaken multiple times. Yet, his extraordinary tactical foresight, keen analytical mind, and calm judgment had impressed the leadership so much that he became the sole exception in Veilkeeper history: a non-awakened Defect granted full status within an active operational team.
"Understood, Commander," Ricky replied with a polite, gentlemanly bow. "We'll take our leave."
With a calm smile, Ricky turned and began walking down the cathedral corridor toward the main hall, with Sophie keeping close pace beside him.
"Phew..." Sophie exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping in relief. "That was so scary... the commanders are always so unpredictable."
She looked down at her feet, a subtle touch of sadness darkening her emerald eyes. Deep down, she felt a sting of regret for not being able to speak up or participate normally whenever those high-ranking figures were around.
Noticing her crestfallen expression, Ricky smiled warmly, offering a gentle attempt to brighten her mood. "I know what you mean. Anyone would get nervous around those powerhouses. If only they learned to show a little restraint around their juniors."
Sophie's expression softened slightly. She fidgeted with the pale green ribbon on her bracer, her voice dropping into a hesitant, barely audible murmur. "...I-I've always admired them. Despite how insanely strong they are, they don't look down on people like us. I just... I wish I could talk to them without stuttering, getting nervous, or making a complete fool of myself."
Shyness overcame her, and she hurriedly averted her gaze, looking at the floor to hide her flushing cheeks.
"Oh?" Ricky asked, tilting his head slightly. "Do you want to become a commander someday, Sophie?"
Sophie gasped, completely caught off guard. Her face flushed a deep crimson as her head snapped down even further. "H-Huh?! I-I mean... I would if I could! But... I'm so weak, and... people would probably laugh at me if I ever said something so ridiculous out loud. That's why I've never told anyone..."
Ricky's expression turned calm and earnest. "I once heard a saying," he said, his voice quiet yet resonant. "'If people aren't laughing at your dreams, then you aren't dreaming big enough.' Don't ever worry about that with me, Sophie. I'll never laugh at what you want to achieve. Dreams aren't meant to be mocked. I'm certain you'll make a fine commander one day, and I'll be right there waiting to see it."
A sudden spark of hope flickered across Sophie's face.
She was a girl who had long since learned to keep her thoughts locked inside. She hadn't always been so closed off; as a young girl, she had wanted nothing more than to express herself freely. But her gentle, innocent nature had made her an easy target for bullies during her early years. To protect herself, she had built a wall around her heart, keeping her deepest wishes buried away from the world.
Until now.
Unable to look Ricky directly in the eye, she simply lowered her head, a soft, heartfelt whisper slipping past her lips. "...Thank you."
Continuing down the grand corridor, the two finally reached the double archway leading into the main hall.
The room was just as vast as Ricky remembered, but the atmosphere inside was entirely transformed, flooded with brilliant light and pulsating with life.
Gathered across the sprawling polished floor were three thousand operatives, representing all six hundred squads. The diversity of the force was staggering: heavy frontline vanguards clad in gleaming plate armor, hooded spellcasters bearing intricate staffs, agile elven assassins blending into the shadows, and tactical gunners decked out in dark leather and modern firearms.
Near the grand dais, a pianist and a violinist played a sweeping melody that filled the massive chamber. While there was no formal banquet served, likely due to the Veilkeepers' tightly managed operational resources, attentive waiters wove through the dense crowd, offering trays of chilled beverages to the operatives.
It was a breathtaking, imposing display of military strength.
Wow... Commander Clara wasn't exaggerating, Ricky thought, scanning the sea of armed operatives as he adjusted his top hat. Every single team really is here. Looks like the expansion renovation was worth it.
Next Chapter: The Declaration