Cid Kagenou had never really cared about how the world worked.He didn't care about politics, economics, wars, or religions.
To him, all of that was nothing more than stage props.
The only thing that mattered—was the role he himself played.
That day, as usual, he was roaming the streets in his "mob" role.
His goal? To perfectly embody the background character: neither standing out nor being too plain, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
That was when he noticed something.
A man brushed past him.
At a glance, nothing was out of the ordinary. But Cid's eyes, sharpened by his obsession, noticed the subtle inconsistencies:
His gait was stiff.
His clothes hung loosely as if his body had thinned unnaturally.
His skin was pale, waxy, and his eyes—though faint—gleamed with an unnatural light.
"…That's a zombie."
Of course, to the ordinary people around, the man looked completely normal. He even went into a bakery, bought bread, and greeted the shopkeeper politely.
But to Cid, this was clear.
No—he wanted it to be clear.
Because this was exactly the kind of thing that made the world interesting.
Without hesitation, he began tailing the man.
The Underground Ritual
The man led him away from the crowd, through winding back alleys, and finally down into the underground passages beneath the city.
It was there that Cid saw it—
Dozens of people were chained, their bodies thin and lifeless, their eyes vacant. Strange glowing magic circles spread beneath their feet, flickering in eerie light.
A black-robed figure stood at the center, chanting in a tongue that grated on the ears.
The man Cid had followed collapsed onto the ground. His body convulsed violently, as black veins spread across his pale skin like ink seeping into parchment.
When the chanting stopped, the man stood again.
This time, his eyes burned completely crimson.
"Rise, servant of the Cult…"
The black-robed figure's voice was a low hiss.
Cid's lips curved into a faint smile.
"…Now this is interesting."
This was it.
This was what he had always been waiting for:
A hidden organization moving in the shadows.
Dark rituals that created monsters.
And him—the lone witness, watching unseen.
It was a scene fit for the Eminence in Shadow.
First Strike
The robed man turned, sensing something.
But it was already too late.
A shadow detached itself from the wall, slipping silently across the ground.
"I am the Shadow that lurks in the darkness…"
The whisper came from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Steel flashed.
The robed figure didn't even understand what had happened before his head left his shoulders and rolled across the stone floor.
The captives stared blankly, too broken to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
And Cid—without saying another word, without revealing his name—melted once more into the darkness.
The Stage
For Cid, this wasn't a mission of justice.
It wasn't a heroic crusade.
No—this was the stage he had always dreamed of.
To find evil in the shadows.To strike it down from the deeper shadows.To remain unseen, unthanked, unrecognized.
This was the role he had longed to play.
And tonight, at last, he had truly stepped into it.