"Eh?" Jones whispered, nudging Ares with his elbow.
"Ares, you heard what Sylvie just said, right?"
Ares was, indeed, more than a little stunned.
'Darling?'
That soft, almost purring tone coming from Sylvie? And the dangerous, captivating smile that accompanied it? Even though they'd only known each other a few short days, Sylvie's personality, while guarded, wasn't that well-hidden. She was sharp, pragmatic, often prickly, and intensely focused.
This… playful cruelty, this effortless deflection wrapped in saccharine sweetness… it was a new facet, and frankly, it was terrifyingly effective.
While Henry momentarily sputtered, flustered by Sylvie's unexpected counter, Sylvie herself tilted her head to the right, her dark hair shifting just enough to reveal something on the left side of her neck.
A tattoo.
Ares and Nia, both with their heightened senses and observational skills, noticed it immediately. A small, intricately inked black serpent, coiled. Ares didn't dwell on it, his attention pulled back to the escalating confrontation. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nia. Her unnerving smile had momentarily vanished. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and a faint tremor ran through her body.
"C'mon, girl," Henry recovered, his arrogance returning, though with a forced edge. He reached his hand out towards Sylvie, a grand gesture meant to appear magnanimous. "You don't need these… lowlifes. Join me, align with strength, and you can survive this hellish place. Thrive, even."
Ares turned his head to look at Sylvie. She remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Henry's extended hand, her expression unreadable. He knew the calculation running through her mind. Joining Henry offered a degree of protection, a shield against the more overt brutality of some participants and the superiors later on,
perhaps even a tenuous link to higher power if Henry's boasting about connections wasn't entirely false. But it also meant aligning with an arrogant, untrustworthy fool who had just revealed his contempt for anyone not immediately useful to him.
It was a gamble, a risky alliance with someone who would likely discard her the moment she ceased to serve his purpose. Ares waited, a knot tightening in his stomach. He wouldn't force her decision. Survival was personal here.
Sylvie finally responded, a slow smirk spreading across her face again. It wasn't the sweet one from before. This one was sharp, almost predatory. "Not interested," she said, her voice cool and dismissive.
Silence.
For a brief, agonizing moment, Henry's arrogant smirk didn't just flicker; it completely vanished. His mouth opened slightly in disbelief. He was refused? By a B-rank archer sitting with a D-rank and a B-rank Tank? It was an affront to his carefully constructed ego.
The burly follower, Bruke, sensing his master's silent fury, puffed out his chest, his limited brain struggling to process the defiance.
"Hey! You should be grateful our Master is giving you this offer himself!" he blustered.
A few of Henry's other subordinates, eager to prove their loyalty and gain favor, chimed in with insults, calling Sylvie foolish, spitting that this would be her last chance to rise above her current company.
Henry, however, raised a hand, silencing his noisy entourage in an instant. He forced his expression back into a semblance of condescending pity, though the vein throbbing in his temple betrayed his true emotions. He gave a fake, performative cough before speaking, as if clearing his throat for an important announcement.
"Silly me," he said, pointing his thumb dramatically at his own chest, a confident, self-satisfied smile plastered back on his face. "I forgot to introduce myself formally."
He drew himself up, projecting an air of immense, undeniable importance.
"My name is Halden. an A-rank Magician."
Murmurs started to appear from nearby tables
'A-rank?' Ares felt a jolt go through him. An A-rank participant. They existed. And an A-rank Magician, no less. That put him potentially on par with his sister, Celeste Roshin, though Ares knew enough about the nuances of ranks and individual power to understand it wasn't a simple one-to-one comparison. Still, an A-rank in this pool of mostly C, D, and E ranks was practically a god.
But something didn't add up.
"What's an A-rank hunter participating in this experiment?" Ares asked, the question escaping him before he could fully censor it. This entire program seemed designed for lower ranks, for those deemed expendable or failures by the outside world. Why would an A-rank, someone already powerful and likely respected, be here? Unless…
Halden's forced smile vanished instantly. He scowled, turning his head sharply to Ares, his eyes narrowed with disdain. "D-ranks like you wouldn't understand."
"Huh, what's that supposed to mean?" Ares retorted, a flicker of annoyance in his voice.
Then, the sudden realization hit him like a physical blow. He froze.
He had never said his rank here. Not once. He'd been about to, back in the dorm when they first introduced themselves, but the alarm had cut him off. He hadn't discussed it with Jones or Sylvie or Nia. He hadn't displayed his interface status publicly.
So how did Halden know he was a D-rank?
Ares stayed silent, his mind racing, dissecting the implications. Had Halden seen his participant number (148 – likely correlated with low initial rank)? Had the superiors told them? Or… or was there another way? Had Halden somehow sensed it? Or perhaps he had access to information others didn't?
"—And that's why D-ranks like you can't understand the stress, the expectations, the sheer weight of being a higher rank! The sacrifices we make! Do you get it? The burdens we carry?"
Halden finished his little rant, puffing out his chest again, clearly expecting Ares to be cowed by his explanation and his status.
Ares, however, was still lost in his thoughts about how Halden knew his rank. The question echoed in his mind, drowning out Halden's self-important pronouncements.
"Huh? Oh? Sorry, what did you say?" Ares asked, blinking, snapping back to attention, his mind having completely blanked on Halden's monologue.
Silence.
Then, a wave of unexpected sound washed over the cafeteria. Not fear, not tension. Laughter.
Jones let out a booming guffaw, slapping his knee. Sylvie snorted, covering her mouth to hide her amusement, her shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. Even Nia, inexplicably, was giggling, a light, melodic sound that seemed to float in the air.
And around the nearby tables, where participants had been silently observing, titters of laughter, quickly turning into outright chuckles, erupted.
Halden's face, moments before red with indignation, turned an even deeper, furious crimson. He was being laughed at. Publicly. By a D-rank, a C-rank, a B-rank, and whatever-Nia-was. It was a humiliation of monumental proportions, far worse than Sylvie's earlier verbal jabs.
"You… You F—!" Halden roared, his already strained composure shattering completely.
"That's enough, Halden."
The voice cut through his outburst like a steel cable. It was Nia. Her face was still curved in that unnerving, smiling expression, but her eyes, her green eyes, glowed with an intense, cold light. And from her, emanating not just from the Vhala fragment, but from her very being, came an aura. Not of Mana Force, not of mana, but something else entirely. Something ancient, vast, and undeniably powerful. A palpable wave of pressure, of sheer, untamed might, slammed into Halden.
Halden staggered back, his hands flying up instinctively, his eyes wide, shaking uncontrollably. He felt her presence like a primordial beast that had just decided he was mildly irritating. The casual, almost dismissive force behind it was staggering.
The rest of the participants nearby also felt it. It wasn't the same resonance field from the training hall. This was raw, focused power, projected directly. Through their own Vhala cores, which seemed to vibrate in panicked recognition, they felt the crushing weight of her aura. Laughter died. Trembles ran through the crowd. Their hearts pounded, suffocated by the sheer pressure.
Halden's group was no less affected. They were choking, coughing, stumbling back, faces pale. Only two among them seemed to withstand the pressure slightly better than the others, though they were still visibly struggling.
Bruke, the burly subordinate, managed to force his way towards Halden, his voice a hoarse whisper in his ear. "Sir Halden… S-She's… She's dangerous!"
"Yeah," Halden gasped out, trying to retain some semblance of composure, his eyes wide, fixed on Nia. His heart rate was skyrocketing, a frantic drum against his ribs. "I know… I know all too well now."
He swallowed hard, the cold sweat beading on his forehead. He had boasted about his A-rank status, his connections. But whatever Nia was, she was operating on an entirely different plane of existence. His Mana Force, his A-rank status, felt utterly insignificant in the face of that ancient, terrifying aura.
"A-Anyways," Halden stammered, forcing the words out, his voice shaky, "if you ever… ever change your mind, you… you know where to… meet me." He didn't wait for a response. He spun around and practically fled, his group stumbling after him, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the smiling girl who emanated the presence of a god.
As soon as Halden and his retreating entourage were out of view, disappearing into the milling crowd of the cafeteria, all attention snapped to Nia.
"What… what the actual fuck was that?!" Ares exclaimed, the raw shock evident in his voice.
Nia, as if a switch had been flipped, instantly resumed her usual enigmatic smile, her green eyes regaining their playful, if still unnerving, light.
"What was what, Ares-kun?" she chirped, tilting her head.
"Don't even try changing the subject!" Jones slammed his fist onto the table again, a loud, resonant thud that made nearby participants jump and turn their heads.
"Uhh… Sorry," Jones mumbled to the surrounding tables, who stared at him for a few seconds before wisely turning away again, pretending not to have seen anything. He turned back to Nia, his face demanding answers. "How did you do that? That… that aura! It felt like… like the Minotaur, but a thousand times worse! And you weren't even trying!"
Nia's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. Her eyes darted away. She knew she'd made a mistake, a significant slip that had revealed far too much. Her cover, whatever it was, was on the verge of being blown.
"W-Well," she stammered, a nervous flutter entering her voice. "I… I've been training! While you all were asleep! Yeah! I… I trained a lot!"
"Training?" Ares questioned, his analytical mind kicking into overdrive.
He watched her carefully. She was clearly flustered, something he hadn't seen before.
"You were training with Mana Force… two days ago? While we were all unconscious in medical pods after having pieces of a dead god shoved into our chests?"
Nia gave a strained, nervous laugh. "Y-Yeah! Th-That's right! I was… very dedicated!"
Jones rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. "Well, she was awake when i woke up in the dorm… Maybe she was training?"
Sylvie sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Jones, your sheer, unadulterated idiocy sometimes makes my head hurt more than the core integration."
She leveled a sharp gaze at Nia.
"Even if you were awake before all of us, the aura I felt just now… that wasn't from two days of practice. That was master-level. Maybe even higher."
She crossed her arms, her expression demanding a real answer.
"The way we felt mana and trained with mana was different from Mana Force," she added, echoing Ares's earlier thoughts.
"There's a fundamental difference. And there's no way you just 'trained once' or twice while we were recovering and could emit that kind of pressure. Explain it, Nia."
Sweat trickled down Nia's forehead. She was cornered. Her usual smooth demeanor had completely evaporated, replaced by genuine panic.
BZZZZTT!
Suddenly, a harsh, robotic voice blared through the cafeteria speakers, cutting through the tense interrogation.
"Attention. All participants are to return to their designated dormitories immediately. Failure to comply will result in severe punishment."
The announcement stopped as abruptly as it began.
Nia didn't hesitate. She shot to her feet, her earlier panic overridden by instinct. She bolted for the nearest exit with incredible, blinding speed, a blur of silver hair. Participants scattered out of her way, stunned by her sudden, explosive movement.
"She hasn't run like that since that bloody experiment…" Sylvie muttered, clicking her tongue, watching Nia vanish.
Overall, today had been… interesting. Less casualties than the first experiment, thankfully. A surprisingly lavish buffet. And Nia's deeply unsettling, unexplained secret.
One thing was for sure: Nia's secret, whatever it was, had just put them on a whole new level of high alert.
Ares, Jones, and Sylvie exchanged a look, then slowly, stiffly, got up to leave. The vibrant chaos of the cafeteria, the brief moments of laughter and camaraderie, felt like a distant memory.
They headed back towards their dorm, the weight of their implants, Henry's threat, and Nia's terrifying power pressing down on them. As they entered the room, they saw Nia curled up on her bed, already appearing to be fast asleep, her breathing even. A perfect, unnerving picture of innocence.
Knowing there was nothing else to be done for now, and needing the rest, Ares and the others followed suit, collapsing onto their own beds. Sleep, even here, was a temporary escape.
---
Elsewhere, far from the sterile confines of the government facility, within the opulent, sprawling mansion of the Roshin Family in the heart of Riverside City…
The dining room was a picture of quiet, luxurious formality. The table, a masterpiece of glass and polished wood, gleamed under the soft light filtering from the massive chandelier above. Air conditioning hummed softly, keeping the temperature perfectly controlled. Servants stood at the edges of the room, silent and watchful.
Orion Roshin, the patriarch, a man whose presence alone could command nations, sat at the head of the table. Beside him sat his children: Celeste, her usual vibrant energy subdued by the formal setting; Leon, outwardly composed but with a subtle tension in his shoulders; and Darius, the heir apparent, a smirk playing on his lips, his red eyes assessing, calculating. Linda, Ares's younger sister, was noticeably absent.
It was silent, as always. The Roshin family rarely engaged in idle chatter during meals. Business, status, power – these were the topics of their world. But today was different. There was an unspoken tension, a sense of something unresolved.
Orion, a living legend, broke the silence, his voice deep and authoritative, directed at Celeste. "Celeste."
She flinched, startled. This was the first time he had addressed her directly during a meal in months, perhaps even years. She was even surprised he had called this family dinner at all.
"O-Oh," Celeste stammered, recovering quickly, her mind racing. "Yes, Father?"
Orion took a slow, deliberate bite of his food, chewing meticulously before replying. His expression remained unfathomable – no anger, no concern, nothing but cool detachment.
"I heard you've been… inquiring… about Ares these past few days."
Celeste's breath hitched. "Yes, Father. He hasn't been answering his phone, and he wasn't at his apartment when I checked." She didn't mention the portal, of course.
Orion remained utterly unfazed. He picked up his wine glass, swirled the deep red liquid, and took a sip.
"Don't look for him anymore."
"WHAT?!"
Celeste and Leon roared in unison, their eyes wide with shock. The silence in the dining room shattered. The servants flinched, their eyes widening before they quickly lowered their gazes.
Orion gave the slightest of frowns, a minuscule tightening of the muscles around his mouth that was nonetheless enough to silence his children.
"Ah. My apologies, Father," Leon said quickly, bowing his head in respect, though his jaw was clenched. Celeste followed suit, her face pale.
Orion's expression returned to its usual impassive state.
"There is no need for such… vocal surprise. It is unseemly. He is likely off somewhere in the countryside, hiding his face after his… disappointing… performance. You don't need to concern yourselves."
Darius nodded in immediate, almost obsequious agreement, a smug expression on his face.
"Father is right, Celeste. Leon. The boy is a disgrace. He's probably too ashamed to face the family."
Celeste's brow furrowed. "But Father," Leon said, his voice strained, pushing back despite the risk.
"Weak or not, he is still part of our family. He is our brother. We should at least still check up on him—"
"—Father's words are direct, Leon," Darius cut in smoothly, his red eyes glinting with malice. His blonde-golden hair, so similar to Leon's, seemed to catch the light, giving him an almost angelic appearance that belied his cold, calculating nature. "Besides, that idiot doesn't deserve the family name Roshin. A D-rank stain on our legacy."
Celeste snapped, her eyes glowing red, a flash of raw emotion. "Watch your mouth, Darius! He's still our Elder Brother!"
Darius only smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Heh. An elder brother who's weaker than all of us combined. What authority does that carry?"
Leon couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his hand on the table, though not with Ryker's force.
"Darius, don't get too full of yourself just because you're the next head of the family! Ares has qualities you wouldn't even understand!"
The tension in the room reached a breaking point. The servants' nervousness was palpable, their bodies rigid.
"ENOUGH."
Orion's voice was a low rumble, but it carried the undeniable force of thunder, silencing all arguments, freezing his children in their tracks. Only absolute silence remained.
He took a slow, deliberate sip of wine, his gaze sweeping over his children before settling back on Celeste.
"Celeste."
"Y-Yes, Father," she responded, her voice shaky.
"I will send Ruben to check on him," Orion stated, his tone final. "He cannot be that far."
Darius flinched, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement. Sweat trickled down his face, a visible sign of sudden unease, of discomfort. It was almost as if he knew exactly where Ares was, and didn't want Orion to find him. But he said nothing.
Celeste couldn't argue. She knew how capable Ruben was. An A-rank assassin hunter, loyal only to Orion. If anyone could find Ares, it was him. Even if she disagreed with Orion's casual dismissal of Ares, she couldn't disobey a direct order. "Alright, Father."
After that, silence settled over the room once again, thicker and more oppressive than before, until they finished their meal. One by one, Celeste, Leon, and Darius excused themselves, leaving the dining room.
Orion remained seated, his gaze distant, lost in thought. He stayed there until he was entirely alone in the vast room. Then, his voice, quiet but carrying an absolute command, cut through the silence.
"Ruben."
A mysterious figure suddenly appeared from the deepest shadows of the room, as if emerging from the very fabric of the darkness. He wore a long, black coat, black trousers, and a black shirt. Rounded, tinted glasses obscured his eyes, but his neatly combed black hair and the subtle scar that hinted at battles fought and won gave him an air of silent, deadly competence. His presence was like a cold wind, unnoticed until it chilled you to the bone. He was known, in hushed whispers, as the **Shadow Reaper**.
Ruben moved with liquid grace, bowing low, sinking to one knee before Orion. "Master."
"Have you located Ares," Orion asked, his tone as calm, as even, as if he were discussing the weather.
Ruben remained on one knee, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, but with an underlying current of professional shame. "I apologize, Master. We were unable to locate him."
Orion's gaze fixed on him, an unexpected flicker of interest in his eyes. "Oh? An A-rank assassin hunter, one of the most capable trackers in my service, could not find a mere D-rank? Intriguing."
Ruben was unfazed by the subtle jab at his competence. He continued, his voice steady. "I am ashamed of myself for this outcome, Master."
"What happened?" Orion's patience, always a finite resource, was beginning to run thin. He preferred results, not excuses.
"A few days ago," Ruben began, his voice a low, even tone, "I was observing Young Master Ares as ordered. Maintaining discreet surveillance. Until I felt a presence near me, another watching him. I assessed the presence, determined it to be a potential threat – someone here to eliminate Young Master Ares."
He paused, and Orion leaned forward slightly, silently urging him to continue.
"I attempted to eliminate the threat. That is when I… identified the observer."
"And?" Orion said, his voice dangerously low, a hint of something dark stirring beneath his calm facade.
Ruben's voice dropped even lower, a confession of the unexpected, the unthinkable. "It was Number 1 of the Superiors, Master. He was… observing Young Master Ares."
Orion's entire body tensed. His hand, moments before relaxed on the table, clenched into a fist. His eyes began to glow with an intense, internal light. The air in the room grew cold, thick with power.
"What… did you… say?" Orion's voice was a low growl, barely audible, yet filled with a terrifying intensity that made even Ruben, the seasoned Shadow Reaper, feel a prickle of fear.
Ruben felt a slight, almost imperceptible tremor run through him, but he held firm, replaying the statement, confirming the unbelievable. "Number 1, Kendrick… was watching Young Master Ares, Sir."
---
Deep within the sterile heart of the government facility, Ares was sleeping, a heavy, exhausted slumber after the ordeal in the cafeteria. But sleep offered no true escape.
Suddenly, he was awake. Not in the hard, white bed of the dormitory, but in the chilling familiarity of the voided realm.
'I'm here again.'
He looked around, the same as last time. A vast, black void stretching infinitely above, and glowing, knee-deep blue water rippling softly around his legs. The air was still, silent, save for the gentle lapping of the water.
But something felt different this time. Off. Like a presence was here with him. Not just near him, but watching him. Closely. Intently.
He scanned the featureless expanse again, straining his senses. Still nothing visible.
**"Human."**
A sudden voice sounded. It wasn't the silky whisper from before, the Serpent's Echo. This voice was different. Older. Deeper. Its tone was sharp, clear, and carried the weight of eons. It seemed to resonate from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Ares was on high alert, his heart hammering against his ribs. He instinctively tried sensing for any physical presence with his mana, pushing his awareness outwards through the glowing water, into the black void. Nothing. Just the empty space.
'Let me try using Mana Force,' he thought, a desperate surge of adrenaline. 'Maybe I can sense it with that. The Echo… I should be able to access it here.'
He clutched his chest, focusing on the Vhala fragment within, on the familiar thrumming energy. He actively tried to call upon the power, to push it outwards, to sense beyond the limitations of normal mana.
Suddenly, his vision shifted. The black void above seemed to peel back, revealing… something. And from the glowing water, a powerful, almost overwhelming sense of perception erupted. He could see, not with his eyes, but with a deeper, more fundamental awareness.
He could see the faint outline of the island where he'd encountered the angelic lady last time, miles away across the endless blue sea. He could sense the currents in the water, the strange, underlying energy of this realm. It was an entirely new feeling for Ares, a potent mixture of terror and exhilarating power.
He felt a surge of something akin to happiness, a fierce pride for finally wielding the Mana Force, however briefly, however incompletely.
But that small surge of triumph was instantly crushed by what he saw next, what he felt, looming directly above him in the black, peeled-back sky.
'N-No way…'
He trembled violently, uncontrollably. His body froze, rooted in the glowing water. His face went utterly pale, and memories, raw and agonizing, flashed through his mind – memories of overwhelming terror, of crushing scales, of his mother's final, loving gaze just moments before she was devoured.
Coiled in the endless blackness above him, a horrifyingly familiar shape began to descend.
A serpent.
Not just any serpent.
Its body was massive, thicker than any building, coiled like a spring ready to strike. Its head, colossal and scaled like obsidian, lowered slowly towards him, its ancient, terrifying form filling his entire field of vision. Two eyes, glowing with an intense, malevolent yellow light, fixed directly upon him.
**"You were supposed to be Dead, Vhala."**
Vhala.
The Serpent of Disaster. The monster that had caused the highest death toll ever recorded in human history. The very source of the fragment in his chest.
It was looking face to face with a pale, trembling Ares, a being it should have destroyed, a being that now contained a piece of its very essence.
**"Human, give me your Body"**.