Dawn was creeping in from the distant horizon. A plane cut through the pale light, gliding high above the clouds.
Inside, passengers slept, whispered, or scrolled through glowing screens. None of them noticed the black, swirling mist streaking after the aircraft. A vortex, fast and relentless.
It caught up in moments, seeping into the cabin, unnoticed. The mist coiled, then dissolved. A human figure took form.
It was Morvathos.
He had roamed Los Angeles the whole night, hunting down five cheaters. Not accidents, not borderline sins, he had chosen them carefully. Betrayal with no justification, cruelty against spouses who were oblivious and undeserving.
It was work, yes, but he had been deliberate. Even among sin, there were degrees.
The only reason he dared to act at all was because fate itself had fractured. The Spring of Reincarnation was corrupted, and the path of destiny twisted. Normally, no lesser god,certainly not one without cultivation,would risk disturbing the balance of souls.
But right now, earth's fate was pretty much fucked if Morvathos doesn't do anything. Morvathos moved freely because of this reason, gambling on the chaos. Though outwardly, everything was fine, but the doom of Earth was nearing each day.
He had no cultivation yet. What power he held came only from his race-change and the Authority Seal. True strength would begin with a cultivation technique,something he could not afford until he gathered far more coins.
The path ahead started with the Mortal God Realm, and from there stretched toward supremacy. For now, he was running on scraps of authority, and instinct.
His current destination was Japan.
Why Japan? Part of it was personal. His Earth self had been born there. Until now, Morvathos had felt little attachment to those memories, but tonight they stirred, re-weaving themselves into his consciousness.
A pull to visit his mother's grave. To tell her, somehow, that he was surviving.
But sentiment wasn't the only reason. Japan's fate had unraveled. The nation's declining birth rate was only the surface. Something deeper was broken.
Morvathos suspected the soul that had corrupted the Spring of Reincarnation had originated in Japan. Now, every soul passing from that land, some soul leaking. He couldn't prove it yet, but he had to see for himself.
He had chased the plane from the ground, testing the limits of his flight. The speed had exhilarated him, even as exhaustion hollowed him out. Like sprouting phantom wings, though he didn't have any. Even drained, he had smiled.
Now, inside the cabin, he drifted unnoticed. Such was the nature of underworld races,unless he willed it, mortals would never perceive him. He moved through the business-class aisle, then slipped into the empty attendants' chamber.
He lowered himself to the floor, head tucked between his knees, arms wrapped around himself. His scythe lay at rest beside him, silent for now. He had not slept, and perhaps could not, but his mind begged for stillness.
Although he felt somewhat ashamed to sit like this because he was a literal God. Sitting on a floor like a bigger hurt his pride as one. But he endure because he was mentally existence.
The night's work pressed down on him, too vivid to dismiss, too strange to process. He had done it, harvested, punished, judged and yet the reality still felt surreal, as if it belonged to someone else.
He closed his eyes anyway, forcing a moment of rest. If he didn't, he feared his thoughts would spiral, and madness would follow.
===
The morning in Los Angeles came like any other, but the air felt different.
*Click~Click~Click~Click~*
Reporters crowded near the mouth of a quiet alley in a forgotten part of the city taking pictures ferociously. Police lines stretched across the entrance, officers pushing the press back with curt warnings.
On the other side of the barricade, a man knelt beside a mangled corpse, staring as though the body itself might whisper the truth if he only looked hard enough.
"Anything, sir?"
A woman in a fitted office suit approached, voice soft but steady.
The detective, Ethan Cross didn't look up.
"Nothing much. Except one thing, whoever did this wasn't human in the conventional way."
Crystalline Carpenter, his assistant detective, froze at the words. Others nearby might have missed the weight behind them, but she understood all too well.
"Are you sure, sir? Maybe this is… some misunderstanding."
Ethan shook his head and pointed to the victim's right foot.
"You see that? Something blunt crushed it. A rod maybe two inches thick at the very least. But look closer. The ground beneath cracked from the impact. Do you think any normal man could hit with that kind of force?"
Crystalline's throat went dry. Ethan gave her no time to reply. He raised his hand toward the corpse's head or what was left of it. Blackened blood, pulp of brain matter, two eyes that lay far away, splintered bone spread like a burst watermelon.
"Do you think a human fist can do that?"
Ethan crouched lower, pressing his finger into a section of collapsed skull.
"This isn't random. This is a punch mark."
He stood, straightening his coat. His assistant trembled slightly.
"What do we do, sir?"
She asked.
Ethan exhaled, eyes still fixed on the body.
"We find whoever or whatever did this. Start with witnesses. Did you check the cameras around here?"
Crystalline nodded quickly, pulling out a flash drive.
"Carla Myron. She was seen leaving this street around the time of the incident."
"Contact her yet?"
Ethan asked.
"She denied it at first,"
Crystalline admitted, then squared her shoulders.
"But with some pressure, she confessed she'd been here. She agreed to meet us."
"Good. Let's move."
They pushed through the wall of reporters, ducked into the police car, and drove off.
On the ride, Crystalline handed Ethan a file.
"Sir, these are also in the news today. Odd cases. . Six victims so far, couples found in hotel rooms. Naked. They were with their affair partner. All had spouses at home who knew nothing about the affairs. When they learned… shock, disgust, grief. But the most intriguing part is that the victims didn't have a single mark on their body.
But one thing was common in every one that their face were filledwith pure horror. And the position they were found in, it was clear that they tried to run away from something but couldn't. The CCTV future says no one entered nor did anyone leave. Many say it was a coincidence and many say Divine Judgment has been given."
Ethan hummed low, flipping through the report.
"Something wrong, sir?"
Crystalline asked.
He tapped the paper.
"This is murder."
She blinked.
"What? But forensics found no harmful substance, no poison nor anything that says these were unnatural death. But why do you say that, sir?"
Ethan handed her the papers without looking, his arm resting against the window as the city rolled past.
"Crystalline, did you forget who we're trying dealing with?"
Her breath caught. The fear crept back into her expression.
"…Sir, will we be okay?"
Ethan chuckled softly.
"If you want to quit, you can leave any time you know. I won't stop you."
She stayed quiet. The car ride to the station stretched on in silence.