( 10.000 words )
The 9th Level of Hell — a place beyond comprehension, beyond suffering — home to the black throne of Anos Voldigoad, known to mortals as Oh Kang Woo.
Once a mere human, Kang Woo's life had taken a cruel turn when he was dragged into Hell by forces unknown, in the most brutal way imaginable. But through sheer cunning and overwhelming power — abilities forged from his own boundless imagination, and inspired by the anime and comics he'd read in his human life — he clawed his way to the top.
Now, he ruled. Supreme. Eternal.
He had long united all demons under his banner, crushing rebellion and rival Hell-Lords alike. His reign had lasted for millennia.
But there was one secret — one truth even the demons didn't know.
Oh Kang Woo was not merely a human turned Demon King. He was once a Hadou God, one whose true name had been erased from the Throne of Heaven itself. The current ruler of the cosmos, Mercurius, the Fourth Heaven Hadou God, held dominion over all known existence.
And Kang Woo?
He had willingly fallen from grace. Cast himself into human life for reasons long forgotten — and in a moment of chaotic impulse, chose to be reborn as Anos Voldigoad… simply because he liked it .
Inside the grand throne room of the 9th Hell, two of Kang Woo's most loyal subordinates knelt before him — Lilith, elegant and dangerous, and Balrog, hulking and grim.
They gazed at their lord, seated atop his obsidian throne. A deep frown etched his face. His silver eyes stared into the distance, unfocused.
Even the eternal flames of Hell no longer interested him.
Lilith tilted her head, sensing his mood.
"My King… are you bored again?"
Balrog grunted, arms crossed.
"He's ruled Hell for 10,000 years. Of course he's bored. My King, shall we destroy another dimension? Wage war on the other demon realms?"
Oh Kang Woo's brow twitched. His voice came low and tired. "Destroy dimensions? Realms? Pantheons?" He scoffed. "Do you know how many versions of Hell I've already conquered? It's always the same."
Lilith glanced nervously at Balrog.
"What would you desire then, my King? Something new?"
Kang Woo slammed his fist onto the armrest, sending a shockwave that cracked the floor beneath his throne. "I don't know.."
Lilith blinked. "...Would kimchijigae that you always tell us , appease you?"
Kang Woo paused. "It's Korean food… Maybe it will. Maybe not." He leaned back with a sigh. "Hell doesn't even have proper spices."
Lilith, always eager to please, straightened up. "Then allow me to prepare a feast! A grand banquet, worthy of your greatness!"
Before he could protest, the throne room trembled as a procession of demons marched in. Thousands — from towering behemoths to screeching imps — all bearing grotesque platters of steaming Hell-food. At the center: a mountain of glistening, blackened meat. Its skin still twitched.
Lilith beamed. "Behold, my King! The Grand Feast!"
Kang Woo stared. Deadpan. "Is that… is that a giant lump of demon meat?"
Lilith nodded proudly. "Yes, my King! The finest in all of Hell. A delicacy beyond mortal comprehension!"
Then, his eyes ignited with pure fury. With a single snap, the entire feast erupted into flames. The food, the table, the procession — all gone in an instant.
Demons screamed and scattered. Smoke filled the room.
"You bring me this garbage?! This... lump of corpse?!" Kang Woo's voice shook the entire realm.
Balrog whispered to Lilith, quietly heartbroken, "Maybe... it wasn't the best idea after all."
Lilith inched forward, her voice timid. "Then... what shall we do, my King?"
Kang Woo rose from his throne. The pressure of his mana alone made weaker demons faint.
His eyes burned with decision.
"Prepare IT."
Lilith gasped. "My Lord… you mean—?"
Kang woo nodded. "Yes. I'm leaving this wretched place."
The throne room fell into silence. Even the flames stopped flickering.
Lilith and Balrog looked devastated. "My King," Lilith whispered, her pink eyes wet. "You're leaving us?"
Balrog saluted stiffly. "We've served you for millennia… Don't abandon us now."
Kang Woo turned. "Don't cry. You'll be fine without me."
They followed him to the back of the chamber, where the statues of the Seven Princes of Hell loomed. An ancient gate stood sealed, awaiting power.
A cloaked figure awaited them — Amon, the Black Mage.
He bowed. "My Lord. Pour your magic into the statues. The gate shall open — to the world you seek."
Kang Woo placed his palm on the center statue. Runes flared to life. The room trembled.
As a rift began to open, Kang Woo muttered to himself:
I don't want to meet them again..
Just then— Lilith lunged forward. "Please! Let me come with you, Lord Anos! I will serve you, anywhere!"
Kang Woo froze. Memories of tentacle hugs, obsessive loyalty, and uncomfortably personal rituals flooded his mind. His eye twitched. "Nope. Not happening."
With one motion, he summoned a barrier and launched her back across the throne room.
As she skidded into Balrog's arms, Kang Woo raised his middle finger toward them with a wicked grin.
"So long, suckers!" "Fuuuuuuuuccckkkkk yoooouuuuuu—!"
His voice echoed as he vanished into the portal.
The other side was not fire, nor stone, nor any realm Kang Woo had ever ruled.
Instead — a sleek, metallic chamber stretched around him, sterile and cold.
Walls pulsed faintly with strange runes, and at the center, a massive sphere of energy hovered in suspension, humming with an eerie, almost sentient rhythm.
Kang Woo took a few steps forward, scanning the alien world with narrowed eyes.
"What the hell is this place?" he muttered.
Then—
[System Alert: Intruder Detected. Conclusion: Core crack repair is impossible. Activating defense mechanism.]
From every corner of the room, brilliant pink lightning burst forth, arcing toward him in jagged tendrils. They struck him dead-on—one after another.
And yet…
He didn't flinch. He didn't move.
He stood there — arms out, chest forward — letting the lightning hammer his body as though mocking it.
"Hah. Cute." His grin curled. "I've had worse hangovers than this."
Of course, he had reason to be cocky. He was the Demon King. He had survived worse in worse places.
Hell, he'd even met Rick Sanchez (C-137) once — in a drunken interdimensional brawl over a ramen coupon..
He also once stumbled into the End of Time, where He Who Remains offered him a place among the Sacred Timeline's guardians. Kang Woo declined, flipped him off, and walked away. The only reason he spared both?
"They were funny. Or I forgot. Probably both."
He stood, basking in the lightning show with smug satisfaction…
…until he felt it.
A cold sting — piercing through his back.
His eyes widened as he looked down.
A holy spear jutted through his chest, glowing with divine wrath.
Before he could react, more followed.
Blades of light. Chains of faith. Arrows laced with divine judgment.
All of them slammed into him from every direction, nailing him in place like a heretical statue being crucified.
Kang Woo's grin twitched. "…Oh. My Arrogance trying to kill me again."
He staggered slightly. Blood — red and black — dripped from the wounds. His body, powerful beyond comprehension, strained.
Unbeknownst to him, across the stars and realms, every god in the multiverse — every pantheon, and celestial order,— had converged in secret.
Their single mission: kill Oh Kang Woo.
All except the Hadou God, of course.
Those beings sat so high above the cosmic hierarchy, they didn't even blink at this event.
Mercurius, ruler of the Fourth Heaven , watching the screen of existence with mild disinterest.
Back in the chamber — Gaia's Chamber, an ancient prison-forge built at the edge of reality — Kang Woo made a a roar, he surged forward through the blades skewering him — blood erupting from his mouth — and punched the central sphere with all the force his decaying body could muster.
The moment his fingers made contact—
BOOOOMMMMM!
A blinding, multidimensional explosion tore through Gaia's Chamber.
The room collapsed inward. Reality warped.
Kang Woo's corpse lay sprawled across the shattered floor, charred and bloodied — unmoving.
The room itself had no gods left in it. They had all fled. But in the Warp, far across the twisted currents of chaos, one voice cackled with glee.
A thousand-faced, scheming voice.
"Because of me," it hissed, slithering through time and fate, "look... the infamous demon king is dead!"
Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, one of the great Chaos Gods, erupted in laughter — his madness weaving new fates from the shattered remains of Kang Woo's body. Of course, he was wrong.
Because somewhere, quietly… Kang Woo's soul was already traveling again.
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Far above all realms, across infinite aeons, upon the Fourth Throne, sat Mercurius, Hadou God of The Eternal Mercurial Recurrence . The current ruler of the multiverse.
He swirled a glass of wine in one hand. In the other, a single chess piece. Black, polished, and cracked.He placed it gently onto a cosmic board where fate, causality, and reincarnation intersected.
His voice, calm and melodic, echoed through the infinite:
"Well then... it's my turn."
He lifted another piece — golden, radiant.
"Reinhard Heydrich, of Shurado Shikouten… The Golden Beast. how you fare in this age."
The piece landed.
Reinhard Heydrich... Reincarnated as Rimuru Tempest.
The world of monsters would never be the same.
Another piece — blueish red — hovered above the board.
"Ren Fuji, of Eternal Time… Let the lie continue."
The piece twisted strangely as it fell.
Ren Fuji... Reincarnated as Ritsuka Fujimaru, the Chaldea Master.
A deception, of course. In truth, he had forged a false institution beneath that name —
The SCP Foundation.
A cage for the anomalous. A tool for absolute control.
Another followed — black, crimson veined.
"Magsarion... or should I say Muzan Muuki, the Remorseless Flame."
The piece dropped like a comet.
He became Sung Jin-Woo, the Shadow Monarch.
Now wandering the Star Wars galaxy, conquering not dungeons, but empires.
Mercurius smiled. Then came a chipped, blue-striped piece. Odd. Offbeat. His grin widened.
"Kumagawa Misogi... The Minus. Let him experience another bloody farce."
Reborn as Tatsumi, in the cursed world of Akame ga Kill.
A world of fragile hopes and relentless despair. Perfect for a walking contradiction.
Then finally… Mercurius held the last one.
Cracked. Unstable. Radiating rejection of all logic.
He stared at it longer than the others.
"...And you."
"Akuto Sai."
The Demon King of Act 13. The one they now call... Oh Kang Woo.
Unwritten from all thrones. Feared even by the Law of Identity.
Mercurius placed him down not onto the board — but off it.
"Your next stop... will be worse than Hell."
"But every piece is moving now , every gate... leads back here."
He leaned back against the Throne of the Spiral. "One day, … all of you... will reunite."
"And when that day comes... this end of stalemate may finally entertain me again."
Just then — a ripple. A gentle distortion broke across the metaphysical horizon, folding layers of fiction into reality like origami.
From the cascading curtains of the Metaverse, a woman stepped forward. She moved like an actress taking center stage in an infinite theater.
Her hair shimmered between violet and ink. Her glasses reflected paradox. Her gaze saw stories before they were written.
Featherine Augustus Aurora. Witch of Theatergoing. The Observer of All Scripts.
She bowed with practiced grace, her fan folded delicately.
"Forgive the intrusion, Lord Spiral. I was drawn by the scent of recycled souls and overturned tropes."
Mercurius did not rise.
But his silver snake eyes flickered faintly — just a hint of silver irritation.
"…Shouldn't you be with Ritsuka Fujimaru?" he asked, voice smooth but thin-edged. " He's your boss now. "
Featherine chuckled, lifting her fan to hide her smile.
"Boss? Oh my… what a charming illusion." She stepped closer, tilting her head. "You know better, Mercurius. These chess pieces of yours… are just representations. They've already moved but because they desired to."
The Spiral God's eyes narrowed. "Are you interfering with my opera, witch?"
The air vibrated. The board groaned.
Featherine didn't flinch. She spun her fan lazily, letting it glide over her shoulder.
"Oh no, no. I'm merely the admin of the stories yet to come." Her tone danced with mockery. "You, Mercurius — you're the father of all existence, true. But even you tend to mess things up quite a bit."
Her grin widened.
"Ritsuka told me to keep an eye on you. He says you always screw up Act II."
Mercurius's wine froze in his glass.
The spiral behind his throne slowed.
Then slowly began to turn again.
"…Very well," he murmured.
"This opera may be spiraling… but it is far from over."
Featherine stepped closer, the weight of countless narratives coiling behind her like a celestial library made flesh. Her smile was faint, but her voice carried a sharpness beneath its velvet edge.
"Tell me something, Spiral."
She tapped her fan gently against her shoulder, eyes gleaming behind her ornate glasses.
"Why do you call Akuto Sai's journey worse than Hell?"
Her head tilted in curious amusement.
"Surely you realize… every last one of those pieces you placed is a Hadou God. Their true power resides within the realms they themselves forged. You — of all beings — know the law: Hadou Gods cannot be truly defeated."
Her fan flicked open with a soft flourish. The air around them shimmered with ghost-pages of infinite stories, whispering as they danced.
"Not even by me," she added. "Not even by the so-called Creator Witch, for in the end — every being, even I — was ultimately born of your Spiral."
She paused then, the fan hovering midair like a blade of narrative tension.
Mercurius's eyes did not blink.
But his voice, low and sonorous, stirred the very thrones beneath them.
"…Not every being was born from me."
The chamber dimmed. He raised one hand, as if gesturing to unseen anomalies far beyond their vision.
"Kumagawa Misogi and Akuto Sai — they are aberrations. They were never written into existence.."
There was a beat of stillness.
"To be honest," Mercurius murmured, "I don't even know what they truly are.".
"They simply… spawned. Possibly, like me… bugs left behind by the Third Heaven."
Featherine's fan froze mid-spin.
Then Mercurius continued, voice growing heavier:
"Ren Fuji — now he is mine. Born from the soul of Varhram, brother of Magsarion, fused with a sliver of my own essence. You could call him my Yetzirah — a formation, a vessel of possibility."
He stared beyond the throne room, toward realities unseen.
"And Magsarion… Muzan Muuki… was never mine, either. He is the burning residue of the First Throne. The will that predates even law. A remnant of endless judgment — which is why he once became ruler of the Second Throne, before being cast down."
Featherine's eyes narrowed in subtle recognition. Her silence acknowledged the gravity of it all.
Mercurius exhaled slowly. The Spiral behind him pulsed with ancient rhythm.
"Every Hadou God that once sat here — they've already moved toward their respective desires. I remain… because I am merely a storyteller now."
His eyes flicked back toward her.
"And you are correct. Hadou Gods cannot be defeated. No matter what pretenders, we are bound only by our own law."
"But Akuto Sai's journey — the path of Oh Kang Woo — is worse than Hell… …because it reflects what every Hadou God craves most. They build multiverses in their own color… reshape existence by desire alone… and …they are never satisfied."
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
When Oh Kang Woo opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by silence — and corpses.
Hundreds of them. Bodies stacked like garbage, limbs twisted, faces frozen in agony. The smell hit first: burnt flesh, rot, and disinfectant. Neon ceiling lights buzzed overhead, casting jagged shadows across the steel walls of the dome-shaped chamber.
Kang Woo shifted, feeling a dead arm sprawled over his chest. He shoved it aside without ceremony and sat up.
His body was cramped — too small. His muscles felt sluggish. His fingers thin, his breath uneven.
He looked down. The body he now wore was that of a 19-year-old corpse — skinny, bruised, punctured with needle marks, and left to rot beside the others. Whoever he'd taken over… hadn't died peacefully.
He cracked his knuckles. The bones were brittle, human, but his essence — the demonic core that formed the very law of his existence — was still there, even if dimmed.
"…What the hell is this mess?" he muttered, his voice low, irritated.
He stood, wincing as the mortal body realigned under his will. He could feel it already — this world's gravity was laced with suppression, like some unseen force resisted absolute identity.
Kang Woo walked over shattered bones and collapsed torsos. Most of the corpses had tags — some metal, some digital — clipped onto their uniforms or gowns.
He tore one off and read it.
VOUGHT INDUSTRIES
SUBJECT: FAILED
SAGE GROVE CENTER – MEDICAL TESTING
He blinked. Then grinned. "…Hih."
He laughed once — not from joy, but recognition.
"This is The Boys universe, huh?"
He scanned the chamber again — the reinforced walls, the experimentation rigs, the unnatural hum of chemical residue in the air. It all fit.
"…And I guess my Arrogance really did outbest me this time." His voice had a smug bitterness to it. "Didn't think they'd throw me into a world full of costumed junkies and corporate sociopaths."
Still, something buzzed faintly in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes — reached into the darkness of his soul.
The Burning Legion. His army — forged in infernal conquest, bound to his will across dimensions. Though distant now, the tether remained.
He could call them. But he didn't.
Better not, Kang Woo thought. Demons are still demons. In this world, that's enough to start a panic .
Then it happened.
A flicker in his vision. The air warped for a second, as if responding to his thought.
A window appeared before his eyes — digital, glowing, absolute.
[Notification: Player Stats Formed]
Player Name: Unknown
Level: 1 (First Awakening)
First Awakening Trait: Authority of Predation (Rank: ?)
The majority of the trait's power is currently sealed.
Strength: 8
Vitality: 9
Agility: 7
Health: 7
Intelligence: 8
Mana: 0
Demonic Energy (Unique stat): 12
Luck: 8
Kang Woo's eyes narrowed.
"…Tch."
Level 1. No mana. Authority sealed.
It wasn't just a reincarnation. This was a nerfing ritual disguised as survival.
And yet… the Authority of Predation was still there. He activated it.
The air split open — no warning, no buildup — and thousands of gaping mouths tore into reality. They appeared across the floor, ceiling, even crawling across his own skin, each lined with rows of shifting, demonic teeth.
The corpses didn't rot — they vanished, devoured instantly, stripped of all organic, spiritual, and mystical residue. All of it consumed.
Kang Woo exhaled. A bit of strength returned to his limbs. His form adjusted — taller now, more solid. He clenched a fist and felt power coil beneath his knuckles like coiled chains.
But then came the real test.
He didn't hesitate. He stabbed his own chest. His eyes locked onto the wound. Ten hearts pulsed inside — all synchronized..
"…My guess was right," Kang Woo muttered. "This body… it's been modified by my soul."
He grinned — not with joy, but with certainty.
He raised his other hand and marked a ritual circle with his own blood. Infernal glyphs spread across his body like a living seal.
"Indura Ritual: Unshackle."
His demonic energy surged.. Horn-like veins crawled up his neck. His eyes glowed black and red, and his presence bent the air.
Outside Sage Grove, the skies cracked open with a crimson thunderclap.
The clouds twisted in spirals, glowing red.
Kang Woo staggered slightly, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand.
"Sacrificing seven hearts just to invoke Indura Ritual… Pretty Expensive ," he muttered.
The power was back — partially. But the cost was real.
Something pulsed near his foot.
A small red marble rolled across the blood-slick floor, stopping near the center of the ritual circle. It glowed faintly. Then — pulsed. Once. Twice.
Then it spoke.
"Master?"
The voice echoed inside his mind —telepathic.
Kang Woo narrowed his eyes and crouched down. The marble rose into the air, shifting slightly as it changed shape — forming a glassy, floating eye. An Eye of Mikhail.
kang woo brows lowered. "…Great. Now we're pulling from 07-Ghost," he muttered.
The eye glowed brighter.
"Master, it's good to see you again."
Kang Woo didn't respond immediately. Thoughts churned in his head.
Across all my lives, he thought, I've had a lot of names. A lot of paths. Fought Olympians in that broken world once. Gods screamed for mercy.
But I was never — and will never be — Teito Klein.
That's for goddamn sure.
He stood up, glaring at the eye.
"Why are you calling me 'master'?"
The Eye of Mikhail floated closer.
"Because you are the successor. My previous master wished for reincarnation — and you, in his place, carry the will he left behind. Therefore, I serve you. Your soul is pure. Bright."
Kang Woo laughed once — low and sharp. "Bright? You've got the wrong soul, marble."
He turned, walking toward the exit of the ruined chamber, red lightning still flickering beyond the walls.
If my soul has a color, he thought, it's black and crimson.
And if there were alignments… I'd be chaotic evil and proud of it.
He folded his arms. ". Now Then , You've found your so-called master. What do you want to do?"
The orb pulsed once. "I wish to become part of you again. As I once was."
Kang Woo raised an eyebrow. "You mean... implant yourself in my left arm?"
Without waiting for further instruction, the orb spun rapidly and shot forward — striking the back of Kang Woo's left palm. The impact was clean, silent.
A flash of red light flared outward as Zaiphon runes coiled across his hand like a living seal — complex, sacred, and binding.
The eye's voice echoed again, now fainter — as if speaking through skin.
"Yes. That's what I wanted."
Kang Woo looked at his left hand. Deadpan. "I didn't give you permission." He sighed. "You already got ahead of yourself."
The Zaiphon circle dimmed slightly, resting like a dormant sigil. Kang Woo exhaled, then summoned the status window again. The flickering pane of energy snapped into view — crisp, detailed, and now fully updated.
[Notification: Player Stats Formed]
Player Name: Oh Kang Woo
Level: 35 (First Awakening)
First Awakening Trait: Authority of Predation (Rank: ?)
Abilities Conceived by Kang Woo — Inspired by Anime and Original Creation:
Ten Thousand Demon Core (Rank: ?)
Hellblaze (Rank: S)
Burning Legion Connection (Rank: SS)
Demon King Magic: Invincible Ruler (Rank: SSS)
Darkness Manipulation (Rank: S)
Reactive Evolution (Rank: SS)
Anos Voldigoad's Abilities (Status: 0%)
The majority of the trait's power is currently sealed.
Stats:
Strength: 40
Vitality: 50
Agility: 85
Health: 70
Intelligence: 60
Mana: ∞ ( infinite )
Demonic Energy: Immeasurable
Luck: 30
Equipment: Eye of Mikhail (07-Ghost Version)
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Kang Woo nodded to himself. "Better."
The numbers looked solid. Mana was infinite, energy off the charts, everything scaling right. A decent return from consuming a pile of corpses and burning seven hearts.
But as he scrolled down, his eyes stopped.
"…Where the hell are my ten shadows from the Zenin Clan?" he muttered. "They should be listed here."
Kang woo glared at the screen. " No Mahoraga?"
He leaned against the wall, hand on his chin. Figures. Either the summoning contract didn't survive the reincarnation… or the binding collapsed during soul transfer.What's done is done.
He closed the window. then reopened it. And narrowed his eyes. "…Why does my Luck suck?"
Mikhail's voice echoed from the mark on his hand. "Is something troubling you, Master?"
Kang Woo didn't even blink. "No. Doesn't matter anyway."
Meanwhile, at the infamous Sage Grove Center...
A secret meeting was in progress. The room was dimly lit, the dull hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Around the long table sat several high-ranking Vought executives, each one stiff with unease. At the head of the table, Madelyn Stillwell looked visibly agitated, her fingers tapping the table with quiet irritation.
"We have a serious problem," madelyn said, voice clipped. "The quality of Supes we're producing is declining. Our experiments here are yielding nothing but weak, unstable assets. We can't rely on them for any long-term strategic use."
The directors exchanged uneasy glances. But one finally speaks .
"We're pushing the Compound V formula to its limit, Madelyn. Any further modifications might destabilize the subjects entirely."
She shot him a piercing glare.
"That's the least of our concerns."
She slammed a thick folder onto the table, its contents spilling out in disarray. Pages fluttered across the polished surface.
"Take a look."
The executives leaned forward, flipping through the file. Their expressions changed fast.
Photos. Dozens of them. Creatures — grotesque, warped, horrifying. Some were massive, towering over buildings. Others retained humanoid shapes, but their presence oozed something far worse than any rogue Supe.
"Devils," Madelyn said. ". They're spawning. And it's not isolated to any one region — it's spreading. Fast."
She scanned their faces, her voice hardening.
"If this continues,. We'll lose everything. The media, the government — even our own shareholders. Vought won't survive another PR disaster on this scale."
One of the directors adjusted his tie nervously.
"What exactly are we suggesting? We can't fight these. Supes can't even touch the ones emerging in Japan and USSR ."
Another leaned forward, hands clasped.
"We need to strengthen the Supes. Push Compound V harder. If we don't act soon—"
"—We'll get buried," Madelyn finished. Her voice snapped through the room. "I'm aware. But telling me to push the same formula that's already failing? Try using your brain instead of sounding like a parrot."
Before anyone could respond, the door burst open.
A disheveled scientist rushed in, panting, clutching a stack of folders. The tension in the room spiked.
One executive jumped to his feet, furious.
"Who the hell let him in here?! This is a secure—"
Another followed. "This better be worth it, or you're done."
Madelyn didn't shout. She raised one hand, and the room went quiet immediately. Her eyes locked on the scientist.
"You have five seconds," she said coldly. "Either say something useful or get out. Start talking."
The scientist nodded frantically, sweat streaking his temple. "Y-yes, ma'am. We have... results."
Madelyn's eyes narrowed. "Results, not excuses. Speak clearly."
The man took a shaky breath.
"One of the Sage Grove subjects — Code 7326. A 19-year-old male."
"We believe he's the long-lost brother of Starlight. He was presumed dead after a failed Compound V bonding procedure years ago. He's... woken up."
The room went still. Before the silence could settle, the door opened again — this time hurried.
A younger aide stepped inside, visibly panicked, holding a tablet with a live feed.
"Ma'am," he said, breath catching, "you might want to look at the news. Now."
Madelyn snatched the tablet from his hands and tapped into the live feed.
Within seconds, the room's large monitor blinked on.
A massive red thunderstorm was forming above the Sage Grove facility — unnatural in size, spiraling like a vortex. Lightning cracked in erratic, horizontal bursts. Clouds twisted with blood-hued streaks. Wind tore through trees. The feed was shaky, but the imagery was clear.
Red lightning. Spiral sky. Pressure that made cameras crackle.
The boardroom erupted into noise.
"What the hell is that?"
"Is this real-time?"
"Get meteorology on the line—"
"Shut up," Madelyn snapped.
She stared at the screen. Her jaw locked.
"…Call the Seven. Now."
One of the directors turned toward her, confused. "Madelyn, with respect, the Seven are just heroes. We created them. They're not gods."
She turned her head slowly. Her expression was ice.
"And that," she said, "looks like something tied to a Storm Devil. You've seen the Tokyo footage. If it's connected to them—" she pointed at the screen, "—then once the devil dies, the storm stops."
She turned back to the aide.
"Bring Homelander. Tell him it's World Threat if you have to. get him airborne."
The room erupted into motion.
Chairs scraped back. Doors slammed open. Executives grabbed files, earpieces, phones — some barked orders, others quietly slipped away, eyes wide, calculating their own exits.
None of them noticed the figure standing at the far end of the ceiling.
Oh Kang Woo stood suspended in silence, cloaked in the Authority of Stealth.. His presence didn't exist to them. The shadows swallowed his form as he watched the chaos unfold.
Once the room emptied, he dropped to the floor without a sound.
He moved toward the long table, sifting through scattered files. Blood-red Zaiphon lines flickered faintly around his left hand as Mikhail's consciousness stirred.
Kang Woo flipped open a classified folder stamped with PROJECT: JANUARY.
The name listed on the first page hit instantly.
Subject: Peter January
Age at containment: 13
Status: Presumed deceased following Compound V failure
Notable relation: Subject is confirmed biological sibling of Annie January (Starlight)
Current classification: Dormant Type-V Aberrant — Risk Level: Unknown
He stared at the name. "…Peter January,?"
So that's the body. Twisted. Modified. Dumped.
Mikhail's voice returned, sharp and reactive.
From the Zaiphon-marked palm, branch-like protrusions extended outward like obsidian wires, reaching toward the papers. They twitched with agitation.
"Horrible… these human experiments are beyond cruel," Mikhail said. "Master, permission to activate Level 40 Protocol."
Kang Woo glanced down at the sigil pulsing red on his hand.
"You activate that," he said flatly, "and it's going to make Hiroshima and Nagasaki look like warm-up drills."
Mikhail paused. Silent. The tendrils retracted, reluctantly.
Kang Woo turned back to the file and traced a line of notes.
"…Devils report . Experimental instability. Vought's still trying to replicate godhood in test tubes."
He looked up toward the blinking security cam light — already fried. "Chainsawmen. Supes. Devils."
He smirked. "This world's a fusion . The Boys and Chainsaw Man Verse …"
Then it hit.
A cold ripple passed through the room — like reality skipped a beat. The lights flickered once. Static buzzed in his mind.
[Notification: Quest Unknown Given]
[Quest]
Title: Unknown
Description: Unknown
Objective: Unknown
Reward System Activated
Primary Reward: ?
Hidden Reward: Commandment of Piety and Love
Hidden Item: Force Edge – The Demon Sword Sparda (Sealed)
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Kang Woo blinked. "…What the actual fu—"
He narrowed his eyes at the floating display..
"This is the worst-designed quest window I've ever seen," he muttered. "No objectives? Just deal with it?"
Then something clicked in his head. His eyes darkened.
"…That's my Commandment."
His voice dropped lower. "And that sword—Force Edge—. I created it. That blade didn't exist before me."
He clenched his fists. "Is this some kind of joke? A cosmic rerun with a broken UI?"
Before he could speak again, a sudden alert blared through the Sage Grove facility's loudspeakers — old, rusted systems crackling with authority.
"Attention all personnel. Evacuate immediately. The storm above the facility has reached peak instability. Repeat: this is a full-site evacuation protocol. Horizon-level threat detected."
Red lights began to flash through the halls.
Mikhail stirred, his voice echoing from the sigil embedded in Kang Woo's left palm.
"I guess your mana is too dense, Master. Or maybe… it's your Warsfeil."
"The pressure in here is collapsing containment barriers."
Kang Woo didn't even look at him. "It's not Warsfeil," he said flatly. "That belonged to Verloren — and I'm not some emo angel who got rejected by heaven."
His eyes narrowed as another tremor rippled through the air.
"What I have… is demonic energy. Mine's primordial.. It rewrites what's real."
From the sigil on his palm, Mikhail's voice returned — unnervingly casual. "Then let's rob this place."
Kang Woo raised an eyebrow. "…Mikhail. You're a gods, right? What kind of divine being robs humans?"
A pause. Then the answer came fast. "I once killed ten thousand people for my previous master."
Kang Woo stared at his hand for a long second. "…Very fair. Enough."
He stepped forward. His body sank into the shadows Submerged in darkness, Kang Woo vanished from the room, leaving nothing behind but trembling lights and unfinished alarms.
—
Meanwhile — Tokyo, Japan.
Inside a quiet, high-rise apartment near the Ministry of Public Safety, Makima sat at her desk — composed, unblinking. The faint hum of her monitor mixed with the low whirring of distant wind. Film reels played on one screen. Bureau data scrolled on another.
She never truly slept. The Control Devil didn't need to. A half-finished cup of tea sat beside a pile of classified documents. Her gaze wasn't on the paperwork — it was fixed beyond the room, far beyond the country.
Her crows, deployed across the globe, had picked up something.
A thunderstorm. . A blood-red vortex had formed over a facility called Sage Grove, somewhere in the U.S. A ripple of power spread outward, thick with unnatural pressure. Cameras failed. Satellites glitched.
Makima's fingers paused over her keyboard.
She leaned back slowly in her chair. "Interesting."
She turned her head slightly. A stream of rats flooded in through the air vents and cracks — climbing the walls, lining up like silent messengers.
Her eyes remained calm, but her thoughts sharpened. Should I travel?
She considered it. If it were just Devils or experiments, she'd walk across the ocean herself.
But then... She remembered the delicate arrangement.
Japan's ceasefire with the United States.
Their position after the war. The contract.
If I move on U.S. soil without permission, she thought, the Japanese Prime Minister might revoke the pact...and once that contract breaks, any damage incurred will no longer transfer to Japanese citizens.
Her smile didn't waver. But she didn't move.
She tapped her nail lightly on the desk.
"What should I do…" she murmured, the tone feather-light.
Her eyes narrowed just slightly. "…What should I do."
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
At the core of Sage Grove, beneath the reinforced structure where most of the Compound V reserves were stored, Kang Woo stood before a massive containment pool — swirling with bright blue fluid.
50 tons of raw Compound V. His Authority of Predation had reduced it to nothing more than energy — consumed, dismantled, integrated.
He had already funneled 30 tons directly into his own body, forcing his Reactive Evolution into overdrive. Muscle density, internal durability, metabolic core — everything was adapting, reshaping under pressure.
Mikhail's voice flickered through the sigil on his palm. "Master, the Compound V is attacking your body. You're forcing foreign evolution too quickly."
Kang Woo swayed slightly, his vision hazy.
The remaining 20 tons pulsed faintly in a liquid orb — stored safely within the Eye of Mikhail, sealed in layered Zaiphon containment.
"Save it," Kang Woo muttered. "Use it later."
Then it hit him. His pupils contracted.
A pulse through his mind — disjointed, deep — like a soul fragment had surfaced. In the space of a breath, he saw a vision — a burning sky, a city crumbling under spiritual pressure, and in the center... A figure. Kurosaki Ichigo .. Then, in an instant, the vision collapsed, and Kang Woo's consciousness snapped back.
He staggered forward, exhaled.
[Notification: Trait Acquired]
—
2nd Awakening Trait Gained:
Soul Distribution X Auswählen (Rank: SS)
Additional Updates:
Anos Voldigoad Power: 1% Unsealed
Quincy King Abilities: Apprentice Level Access Granted
Level Increased by +5
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Kang Woo stood still, the screen fading from his sight. He exhaled, the pressure around him lightening as his internal systems stabilized.
"…Yeah," he muttered, straightening his back. "This has been fruitful."
Kang Woo's hand twitched once, faint sparks of Quincy particles dancing beneath the surface of his demonic veins — a strange, volatile fusion now surging through him. Then — a presence. He didn't need to look. His body, tuned by predation, trembled slightly as something cut through the sky like a missile.
Kang Woo activated Authority of the Beholder — a ripple of invisible perception surged outward.
A figure hovered just above the compound, cape fluttering, eyes glowing with barely restrained aggression
[Scan Initiated]
Name: Homelander (Supe)
Level: 15
Stats
Strength: 28
Vitality: 30
Agility: 43
Health: 3,000 (Regeneration: 100 HP every 3 seconds)
Intelligence: 15
Luck: 12
Abilities
Flight
Laser Emission (Eyes)
Superhuman Strength (Compound V)
Enhanced Durability
[Note: If struck by a normal nuke, subject will die.]
Kang Woo narrowed his eyes. "There it is…". "The peak of what this world calls a Supe."
A voice echoed from his left palm.
"Should I get rid of him, Master?" Mikhail asked through the runes, Zaiphon glow pulsing faintly.
Kang Woo didn't even blink. "No need.. Let's see what he says to Madelyn."
His form melted further into the shadows, senses stretched outward — eyes closed, but perception wide.
Above Sage Grove, Homelander hovered just beyond the storm . Then — a sharp pivot.
He descended. Boots touched the ground with a hard metallic thud as he marched straight for the command floor. He dropped like a missile, his boots striking the ground with a metallic thud. Without pause, he strode across the open lot and entered the facility, ignoring the nervous glances from guards and techs. He made his way straight for the command floor.
Minutes later, he and Madelyn Stillwell stood just outside the sealed doors of the disposal chamber — the one where Subject Code 7326 had been kept. They hadn't opened it yet. t. Neither of them knew the body inside was long gone… replaced by something far worse.
Madelyn was the first to speak. "His real name is Peter January," she said, her tone steady. "Code 7326. Nineteen years old. Presumed dead after a failed Compound V bonding."
Homelander tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Dead, sure. But here he is. Back from the grave, just like those cheap movies you people watch. Nobody knows how. The directors are calling it irregular. One theory? Possession."
Madelyn folded her arms, eyes narrowing. "They think he's a devil-host. A fiend. A non-Supe entity now using Peter's body."
Homelander scoffed. "Is this gonna be another one of your pep talks? Because I already told you — I'm the strongest. One or two monsters with bad teeth and devil horns don't mean shit to me."
Madelyn's jaw tightened, but she didn't rise to it. She glanced toward the door, then back at Homelander.
"Listen to me," she said flatly. "The other directors — and Stan Edgar — want him neutralized. Immediately. But I disagree."
Homelander raised an eyebrow. "So what? You want him in The Seven?"
"I want to see what he is first." Madelyn took a step closer.
"Most of the corpses we disposed of in that chamber are missing. Vanished. Nothing left but an empty slab."
"And now there's a vortex of red lightning hovering above us."
Homelander didn't respond at first. His eyes glowed , scanning the thick steel door just ahead.
Madelyn folded her arms. "The secrets of devil contracts… are locked behind Japan," she said carefully. "Stan Edgar warned me never to touch it . I don't know why. But whatever's in there… it's dangerous. Maybe Subject 7326 is the key to understanding it."
Homelander looked at her sideways. "Any method allowed?"
Madelyn nodded once. "You're greenlit. as long as it brings results."
Homelander smirked. "Outstanding."
With that, he stepped past the door, eyes already glowing brighter as he prepared to enter the disposal chamber.
Madelyn didn't follow. Instead, she turned and walked back down the hallway — heels clicking louder now.
A few minutes later, she re-entered the observation room, where several Vought directors were anxiously watching the monitors.
One of them, a graying man with thick glasses, looked up. "What did you say to Homelander?"
Madelyn gave a gentle smile — all charm and deflection. "Just a pep talk," she said. "After all… I'm the most trusted person to him, right?"
The others chuckled nervously, though no one truly laughed.
Unseen above them, cloaked in shadow and silence, Kang Woo observed from a high perch in the observation room. His eyes flicked across the monitors, security feeds flashing with static and data. One feed glowed brighter — the disposal chamber.
He watched. A figure stood there — one that looked just like him..
But Kang Woo's eyes narrowed.
He reached out with his mind.
Mikhail. Did you just make a clone?
No, Master, came the reply, cold and precise. I did not. But I believe I understand what you're seeing. That creature… it isn't a devil or a fiend.It's a demon. Your kind.
Kang Woo's expression hardened. Impossible. Demons from my realm can't cross into this one…
Under normal circumstances, yes, Mikhail continued. But your awakening — the spike in demonic energy — it cracked part of this world's barrier.. Something slipped through before it closed again.
Kang Woo clenched his fist.
And no one here even realizes what it is yet…
Exactly, Master, Mikhail said. Neither Vought nor the devils of this realm understand your kind even exists.
Down below, Homelander stepped into the disposal chamber. Eyes narrowed. Footsteps heavy against dried blood. He said nothing. Then, without warning, he lunged.
He grabbed the fake Peter January by the collar and hurled him against the wall. Metal rang out. The reinforced slab cracked, steel groaning under the force. Dust and fragments fell.
The impostor gasped — ribs bent, bones stressed — but not broken. Just bruised.
Homelander leaned in. His grin was wide. Unfriendly. Hostile.
"Subject 7326, huh?" he muttered. "Or should I say… nameless devil? Or fiend? Or whatever freak they've stuffed in there."
His eyes flared red — laser-hot, unstable — as his tone deepened.
"What can you offer the strongest hero in the world, huh?"
Up in the observation room, Kang Woo narrowed his eyes. His Authority of the Beholder activated — scanning the imposter's core, breaking down its essence into raw data.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Name: Cavaliere Angelo
Level: 32
Stats
Strength: 35
Vitality: 40
Agility: 33
Health: 8,000 (Regeneration: 250 HP every 2 seconds)
Intelligence: 20
Demonic Energy: 50
Luck: 18
Abilities
Electricity Generation and Manipulation
Teleportation
Demonic Trigger
Summoning: Elder Geryon Knight (Demonic Blue Horse)
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Kang Woo exhaled slowly. "…Oops. Homelander might die."
Below, the fake Peter January stopped moving. His posture didn't shift, but something in the air tightened — denser, colder. The lights overhead dimmed, flickered.
Then the imposter looked up. Straight through the steel. Through glass..
His head turned toward the observation deck.
His eyes narrowed. A whisper escaped him. Rough. Bitter. Unmistakable. "…Sparda?"
Kang Woo, watching from above, blinked once. Ah, right. That persona. Forgot I ran around as Sparda once… Killed Mundus too. Probably pissed off at least thirty timelines' worth of demons. Wonder which variant he remembers.
Down in the disposal chamber, Homelander squinted, voice smooth with charisma and the kind of lying confidence only someone like him could weaponize.
"Sparda?" he echoed. "You mean your parent? Your… father, maybe? I can take you to him. . Join the Seven. We're the strongest in the world."
For a brief second, it almost worked.
Then — "SPARDAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The fake Peter January — no, Cavaliere Angelo — exploded with rage.
A wave of electricity burst from his body, hurling Homelander backward into the wall. The entire chamber shook as the imposter transformed.
Armor unfolded across his skin, but grown, etched from within his being like a cocoon cracking open.
He grew taller, his limbs more defined, monstrous. Two ridged horns spiraled from his head, purple eyes flaring with inner malice. His metallic body gleamed with jagged plating, shifting between demonic gray and obsidian. The wings on his back — jagged, segmented, like cruel blades — snapped outward and then curled in, forming a protective dome.
Homelander coughed as sparks rained across the room. Blood ran down his arms from a burst capillary.
He raised his head slowly.
"…What the f— What is this? Is this a fiend?"
Cavaliere Angelo simply moved. With a burst of demonic force, he raised his massive sword — jagged, long, and crackling with electricity. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a judgment. He brought it down in a devastating arc.!
The blade collided with Homelander's forearms just as he tried to block with crossed arms. The impact launched him like a missile straight into the disposal room door. The heavy reinforced slab shattered, metal and bolts snapping free. Homelander crashed through, his body trailing sparks and blood, slamming into the far wall of the hallway outside.
In the observation room, everyone stared at the monitor feed. No one moved. Then—
"Are we BLIND!?" Madelyn exploded, her voice slicing through the tension. "CALL THE FUCKING ARMY! MOVE!"
She slammed her hand on the emergency control panel. A red light blared across every monitor. A robotic voice echoed through the facility's intercom:
"Intruder alert. Disposal room compromised. A hostile devil entity has breached containment. All personnel initiate lockdown procedures. Armed response teams to Sector D immediately."
Outside, alarms screamed to life. Vought's private army — armed Supe-handlers , drone swarms — mobilized with brutal efficiency.
Inside the observation deck, Madelyn stared at the screen as Cavaliere Angelo stepped out of the broken chamber. His wings flared. His armor gleamed.
Then… Angelo turned. His glowing purple eyes locked onto the camera. And he whispered. "…Spardaaa…"
A chill ran through the room.
Kang Woo, watching from the shadows just behind the glass, he knew what that gaze meant..
Without a sound, he vanished. His body submerged into the shadow beneath him — melting into the floor like ink drawn into void.
Because down below, Angelo stopped moving. His jaw clenched.
In his mind, the echo of a voice played like a memory wrapped in static.
Ten minutes ago…
"Find the remnant of Sparda," Malphas had said — her voice cold, cruel, mechanical, and ancient. "The gods believe he's dead. We do not. If he exists, he is hidden, weakened. But he is the strongest demon the 9th Hell has ever known. You are to confirm his presence."
"Disguise yourself. Wait. Blend in. Until the target reveals himself."
Now, with the false corpse gone and the red vortex overhead, Cavaliere Angelo no longer needed to wait.
He knew. Sparda … was here.
He started walking. Slow And then — the Vought army came.
Armed units stormed down the hall. armored soldiers, heavy rifles raised, targeting lasers locking in.
"FIRE!"
Dozens of high-caliber bullets screamed through the corridor — streaks of light and metal hammering into Angelo's back.
. He teleported. A flash — a crackle of static reality bending around him — and in the blink of an eye, he was behind them. SHUNK—SHUNK—SHUNK
In a single motion, three heads dropped to the floor, bodies still twitching.
Then he raised his sword. And SLAMMED it into the ground.
The entire facility shuddered. Walls cracked. Tiles exploded upward. Dust and flame burst into the air like a grenade had gone off beneath the floor.
From the observation room, the shockwave could be seen distorting the camera feed — a visual ripple of destruction expanding outward as Cavaliere Angelo advanced, unchallenged.
Walls cracked wider. Rubble clattered from the ceiling. A second tremor surged upward through the metal support beams, warping the structure as Cavaliere Angelo kept moving — closing in on the observation deck..
He could feel it now. The presence of Sparda. And it was getting closer.
Outside the corridor, armored vehicles had arrived. Vought's private military had deployed tanks and APCs down the west tunnel. Their cannons rotated, targeting the demon as he advanced with wings partially unfurled, catching sparks of red lightning from the overhead vortex.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
The tanks opened fire. Explosions thundered through the corridor, engulfing the area in fire and debris.
But when the smoke cleared… Angelo was still walking.
Wings curled over his body like a shell, the impacts absorbed into the shifting plates of his demonic armor. Charred marks scorched the floor — but not him.
Then he raised one hand. A sphere of electricity formed above his palm.
With a single gesture, the bolt cracked forward like judgment from the sky — ZRRRRAK-KOOM! — and struck the lead tank. The vehicle exploded, flipping backward like a toy. The APCs behind it didn't fare much better, systems fried, hatches torn open as flame engulfed them.
Up in the observation deck, the lights flickered wildly.
Madelyn Stillwell gripped the edge of the table, her voice cutting through the chaos like glass. "Release the contained experiments."
One of the staffers looked up from his console, horrified. "But… but those are unstable. Sage Grove's top-shelf Supes . They cost millions dollars in Compound V just to keep sedated—"
Madelyn snapped, eyes wild. "If we don't survive, it's game over. Do you understand?"
She jabbed a finger toward the screen, where Cavaliere Angelo's silhouette loomed amid flame and ash.
"That thing is coming up here screaming Sparda like a maniac!"
She slammed her hand against the console. "OPEN THE DAMN CELLS!"
The alarms began to wail. Somewhere deep beneath the facility, magnetic locks unsealed. And down the halls… the Supes began to wake up.
Deep beneath the facility, magnetic locks disengaged with sharp, hissing CLANKS. Doors groaned open. Containment chambers hissed steam. And the Supes — all labeled unstable, dangerous, or incomplete — began to stir.
Sparks flickered. Flames danced from trembling hands. A woman's nails grew long and jagged as she flexed her fingers with a twisted grin. One man's skin shimmered with metal. Another twitched, his eyes glowing faintly green.
"Did we just get freed?" one of them muttered, dazed.
"Who gives a shit?" another snapped, stumbling forward. "We're free—!"
THOOM.
The corridor cracked. A deafening SNORT of infernal breath echoed through the hallway.
Then it appeared. A blur of hooves and molten power — Elder Geryon, the demonic blue horse summoned by Cavaliere Angelo, burst down the hallway like an avalanche made of lightning and steel.
Ridden by Angelo himself. The moment his mount touched ground, it trampled through them like insects.
One by one, the unstable Supes were crushed beneath hoof and blade — crack, crunch, rip. Their bodies exploded into blue dust upon contact, incinerated by otherworldly flames that left no trace. Those who tried to fight were sliced down mid-motion.
From the observation deck, Madelyn's blood ran turned to the staff, pale.
"Is Homelander still active? Or any of the Seven inbound?"
A technician scrambled to pull up the live feed.
On-screen: Homelander — still lying unconscious where Angelo had left him,.
And the Seven? The screen flicked to another camera.
There they were — outside the facility. A-train pacing in circles. Black Noir standing still. Queen Maeve leaning against the transport, arms crossed. The others looked uneasy.
"They're… standing by," the staffer mumbled. "None of them are coming in."
Madelyn stared. Then whispered like a curse, "…Fucking cowards."
The metallic groan of straining steel filled the air—then BOOM.
The vault door to the observation room slammed inward like a meteor strike. ripped clean off its hinges and sent crashing into the far wall, sparking and spinning like a shattered satellite.
Standing in the aftermath, framed by red emergency light and smoke, was Elder Geryon—its hooves churning up the floor, sparks flickering with every stomp. Upon its back, towering in full demonic glory, was Cavaliere Angelo.
He scanned the room—the staff frozen mid-step, directors clutching chairs and datapads with white-knuckled fear. And then he spotted her.
Madelyn Stillwell. She didn't flinch.
Angelo pointed directly at her, voice rough and echoing with distorted fury.
"Spardaaa…"
Madelyn stepped forward slowly, "Right. Sparda. We don't have a Sparda,"
she said flatly, trying to control the tremor in her voice. "You're mistaken."
Angelo. Then — louder, sharper, angrier —"SPARDDAAAAAA?!"
The word rattled the walls. The air vibrated. Some staff clutched their ears, others began to inch toward the emergency exits .
Madelyn's gaze flicked to the monitors. The Seven's area was… empty no member of seven stationed .
Her eyes widened. Gone.
Homelander—vanished. The rest? Missing from their feeds. She clenched her jaw.
Then she turned back to the towering demon in the doorway, her voice steady but desperate.
"…Actually," she said slowly, "we do have a Sparda."
Cavaliere Angelo twitched—just slightly. His horned head tilted in eerie interest, but he said nothing.
Madelyn's breath hitched, then she pushed on, bluffing for her life.
"He's a code project. Experimental. The Seven were briefed to ambush the entity on sight. They've been waiting. They'll… they'll send you back to Hell where you belong."
Behind the veil of her words, her eyes screamed for anything to happen.
Suddenly— A blue blur streaked across the room.
A-Train, cocky as ever, bolted forward with a snarl. "Got this freak—!"
He collided full-force into Elder Geryon—only to bounce off like rubber against titanium. A sickening crunch echoed across the deck as he tumbled across the ground, his legs twisted unnaturally, eyes bulging.
"OWW—shit—my bones! My fucking—!"
Queen Maeve stepped up next, raising her massive iron shield with both arms. Gritting her teeth, she shouted over her shoulder:
"BEHIND ME—NOW!"
Staff scrambled. Madelyn ducked behind the reinforced observation desk.
A howl of wind tore through the room as Homelander reappeared—diving in from the breach above with a chunk of reinforced concrete lifted over his head like a meteor.
With a guttural roar, he hurled it down at Angelo—
But the demon didn't flinch. He raised a hand. Elder Geryon's pulsed—and with a sudden flare of blue sigils—
—Time bent.
The moment stretched like taffy. Light bent in spirals. Sound dulled to a warble. Everyone moved as if trapped in molasses.
A-Train's groans slowed to a crawl. Queen Maeve's shield rise looked like stone being lifted by wind.
And Homelander— —still mid-dive, teeth bared, eyes glowing— —frozen, his muscles twitching slower than breath.
In that warped eternity, where time barely crawled and even sound dared not echo, Cavaliere Angelo stepped forward. His purple eyes didn't fix on the half-frozen heroes. Not on Madelyn. Not even on the broken room.
They gazed beyond. Piercing through space and veil.
A crimson portal tore itself open — jagged like a wound in the air, rimmed with howling shadows. It pulsed, alive with demonic energy, the space around it warping from sheer pressure.
Angelo stepped through without hesitation.
Behind him, Elder Geryon followed, hooves cracking into the floor, . In seconds, they vanished into the vortex — and with a low, collapsing howl, the portal sealed shut.
—
The world outside shifted. The storm above Sage Grove thundered red, lightning arcing like tendrils of judgment. In the center of the courtyard, the portal tore open once more .
Cavaliere Angelo emerged in full — wings flared, blade humming with electricity. His steed followed, snorting violet mist through its skeletal snout.
And there— He saw him. Standing tall across the ruined courtyard, framed by the vortex sky, was Oh Kang Woo.
He stood in his Sparda form . Slightly larger than a man, but radiating far more presence. Vaguely insectoid, his clawed hands flexed slowly, fingers cracking. A scaly hide coated his chest and shoulders, armor-like. Thick, downward-curving ram horns framed his head. Chiropteran wings, veined like a bat's, unfolded from his back — beneath them, insectile beetle-wings buzzed with dark static. Reptilian spines flared along his spine, and his hooves dug into the cracked concrete.
He simply raised one hand. A shadow peeled from his palm, forming a jagged obsidian greatsword — the manifestation of his Authority of Blade.
The air groaned. The storm above pulsed red.
Angelo dismounted. With a metallic hiss, his greatsword spun once in his hand, sparks licking across its edge.
He stared across the courtyard, the distance between them meaningless. "…Sparda."
Cavaliere Angelo lunged forward — blade screaming through the air, wreathed in spiraling lightning.
Kang Woo met him head-on. Their swords collided. The courtyard exploded in force. Dust and stone whipped outward in a violent shockwave. Sparks rained across the concrete. Both figures held firm — no retreat, no hesitation.
Angelo swung again, channeling his fury into a bolt of lightning that burst from his blade mid-strike. The crackling spear of energy shot toward Kang Woo's heart—
But it did nothing. The moment the bolt hit, Kang Woo's body pulsed with deep black aura — Demon King Magic: Invincible Ruler had activated.
The arcs of electricity traced along his arms, his chest — and were devoured by his core, feeding his power. The more magical attacks came, the stronger his restoration became. The magic rejected destruction. It reversed it.
Angelo snarled, leaping back.
But Elder Geryon moved on instinct, sensing the rhythm of battle. The steed flared with blue energy and activated its innate ability — temporal suppression. It began to slow time around Kang Woo, warping the field to a crawl.
But that was a mistake.
For Kang Woo, Invincible Ruler twisted everything that happened to him. What was meant to slow him instead empowered him. The slowing effect reversed — and his perception of time accelerated beyond measure. With a flicker of motion, he blurred.
CRACK—!
He disappeared from Angelo's line of sight and reappeared behind the Elder Geryon, claws raised. His scaly feet crushed the ground beneath him as he raised his voice. "Mikhail."
"Yes, Master." The voice rang out from his left hand — the Eye of Mikhail, embedded on the back of his palm. A branch-like protrusion flared. Before Elder Geryon could react, It wrapping around the beast's form.
In a single heartbeat, the demonic steed was pulled inward
SHHHHHWUMP—!
The Eye of Mikhail pulsed once with red light, a circle of Zaiphon runes flickering across Kang Woo's skin as the beast vanished into it entirely, its power stored within.
Angelo skidded to a halt, his glowing purple eyes wide for just a flicker of a second.
Across the fractured, battle-scarred courtyard, Kang Woo emerged from the crater. He moved slowly, confidently. His obsidian greatsword rested across his shoulder, jagged edge still hissing with residual power. Trails of smoke curled off his frame like steam bleeding from a furnace.
But this wasn't over. Not yet. His true objective hadn't been the fight—it had been the outcome.
He turned his gaze toward the side and spotted it—a broken motorcycle, half-buried beneath rubble. Frame twisted. Useless. Forgotten.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Hmph. Devils in this world... they're not high-tier like us. We're demons—something else entirely," he murmured, almost amused. "But funny, isn't it? In Devil May Cry, they don't call them Demon Arms. They call them Devil Arms.
Angelo snarled. His wings tensed. His voice thundered, furious and primal. "SPARDAAAAA!"
Kang Woo raised his hand. A pulse of demonic energy erupted from beneath Angelo.
Thousands of black spears—razor-thin and jagged—exploded from the ground like a sea of death, impaling Angelo from every angle. His body was suspended in the air, twitching violently as demonic energy surged through the trap.
Then Kang Woo blurred forward.
His obsidian blade flashed, again and again, carving through Angelo's armor, wings, and limbs. With each strike, chunks of his body broke off as metallic shards humming with infernal energy. They flew across the battlefield, magnetically pulled toward the shattered motorcycle frame.
Piece by piece, the parts of Angelo's body slammed into the vehicle—fusing, reshaping, transforming.
The front faring twisted into the shape of Angelo's helmet. Bat-wing-like extensions grew from the sides. And from where the front fork met the wheel, long, double-sided serrated blades extended outward, humming with residual electricity.
Angelo gave one last guttural roar as Kang Woo drove his blade straight through his chest, ripping out a glowing, dark crimson core—the demon's heart. Angelo's body turned black, ossified, and shattered into embers.
What remained was the motorcycle—whole, gleaming, powerful. It revved once on its own, responding as if alive.
Kang Woo approached the motorcycle—now fully reborn as a Demonic Arm—and swung one leg over, mounting it with fluid ease. His hands closed around the handles.
The moment his fingers touched the grips, a pulse of energy surged through the frame. The engine let out a deep, guttural growl—not mechanical, but alive. The resonance synced perfectly with his core, as if the beast recognized its master.
A faint chime echoed.
[Notification: Gained Item – Cavaliere (Devil Arm: Motorcycle Form) – Soulbound]
Kang Woo just smiled. With a thought, the entire bike shimmered in dark light—then collapsed into shadow and vanished, pulled into his soul-space like a sheath reclaiming a blade.
"Handy," he muttered.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the distorted horizon. Everything was still—eerily so. The storm above moved like molasses. The smoke hung frozen mid-sway. Even the embers in the air pulsed slowly, like time itself had thickened.
"Mikhail," he said calmly. "Does the Elder Geryon's effect still linger in this area?"
A voice answered from the back of his left hand, the Eye of Mikhail glowing faintly.
"Yes, Master. I forced the time field to extend across a three-kilometer radius. You are excluded. All others… are slowed."
A low hum rolled through the cracked concrete as the last echo of Kang Woo's power faded from the courtyard.
Then—without warning—a demonic portal tore itself open in front of him.. This portal pulsed with a deeper, older hue—something violet-black and ancient, edged with runes unfamiliar even to him.
Kang Woo didn't move at first. His eyes narrowed. "That wasn't me," he muttered.
The energy radiating from it… it was familiar.. The portal pulsed in sync with the core he'd just ripped from Cavaliere Angelo. It was reacting to it. No—calling to it. As if the core was a key, and the gate, a door long sealed.
He stepped forward. And in that instant, the slowed world snapped.
Time surged back to normal as the trap created by Elder Geryon's effect lifted. Wind howled. The smoke moved again. Screams echoed from far-off halls, now unstuck from stasis. But Kang Woo was already gone.
The portal swallowed him whole. Then it closed.
And with it, the massive red vortex above Sage Grove collapsed—folding into itself, vanishing like a memory wiped clean. Only the ruin remained.
But someone had seen it.
Far away—thousands of miles east—Makima sat in her Tokyo apartment. The Control Devil's face remained placid as ever, her eyes trained on a small monitor screen in front of her. One of her rats had been stationed at the edge of Sage Grove for days—its tiny eyes transmitting what little it could see. The red storm, the distortion, the demonic figure screaming "Sparda"… and then nothing.
Just a flash. A moment. And now it was gone.
Makima blinked slowly. She leaned back in her chair.
On the rack beside her, a disguise outfit hung loosely—one of many. A lab coat. A Vought executive's uniform. Even a nurse's outfit used during her quiet inspections of American government projects.
Her fingers tapped the armrest once. "All for nought," she whispered.
The portal had closed. The storm had vanished. The target—the one called Sparda—had disappeared. And she didn't get a full glimpse.
Makima's eyes drifted to the rat, now dead on her desk. "Who are you really… Sparda?"