The path Dys and Zyla had been following on the radar had finally come to an abrupt end. Their footsteps led them straight to a massive, desolate palace completely buried under a thick blanket of snow, as a brutal blizzard raged outside. The two exchanged a silent, weary look and stood there, contemplating their next move. Literally standing frozen in thought for a few moments, they finally decided to step inside the icy structure to take shelter.
As they entered, they were greeted by an endless, empty corridor. The pitch-black darkness made it impossible to see anything ahead.
"Let's wait here until the blizzard stops outside," Dys said, his voice echoing in the hollow space. Zyla simply nodded in agreement.
After a while, the storm subsided. Stepping back outside, the two extended their arms to stretch. Without warning, thick tree vines whipped out from beneath the snow, wrapping tightly around their legs and violently dragging them downward. Caught completely off guard, they shrieked in terror, "Ah!"
When they finally opened their eyes, they found themselves trapped in a dimly lit, hidden chamber where the horizon was swallowed by absolute darkness. Suddenly, the overhead lights flickered on, illuminating a figure that left them completely paralyzed with shock. Standing before them was a man whose body was wrapped in writhing, groaning spirits like a nest of venomous snakes—and every single one of them belonged to the souls of deceased girls.
The man smirked, breaking the silence. "You two came here using a radar grid, didn't you?"
Both of them were frozen in sheer shock. Zyla stammered, "H-How did you find out we came using a radar?"
The man laughed mockingly. "Did you fall on your head from the ceiling, girl? The radar is literally right there in your hand! Besides, this place is so heavily hidden that only someone tracking the grid could ever stumble in here. Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I am going to grant you both your passage to heaven today. Orders from Master Masachika."
Before the words could fully leave his lips, he vanished and reappeared right in front of Dys, delivering a devastating upper-knee strike straight to his torso.
"Welcome to Sybo's den," he whispered.
The sheer impact of the blow instantly told Dys that this guy was no ordinary lackey. He was entirely different.
Dys lunged forward to retaliate, but a shadow of death loomed over him as Sybo instantly activated his Viper Mete. Metes were the restless souls of those who committed suicide; finding no place in Heaven, Hell, or the Afterworld, they had no choice but to return to Earth. Through a dark phenomenon known as 'Mete-机制' (Mete-chanism), they possessed living human bodies, fusing their ghostly, supernatural attributes—like the Vampire, Viper, or Grim—into the host.
With the Viper Mete active, Sybo's energy became violently corrosive. Dys's body parts began to burn and melt under the aura. However, Zyla was constantly backing him up, casting her divine healing to completely neutralize the decay, ensuring Sybo's fatal strikes had no lasting effect on Dys.
Sybo unleashed a relentless, high-speed barrage. Dys couldn't even track the movements, let alone block them, and Sybo showed no signs of stopping. Yet, mid-battle, Sybo noticed something infuriating—none of his attacks were dealing permanent damage. He glanced past Dys and spotted Zyla, whose hands were glowing as she continuously regenerated Dys's decaying flesh.
"Oh! So she's his doctor..." Sybo realized. Without a second thought, he redirected his lethal Viper strike straight at Zyla.
Dys's eyes widened as he spun around. Zyla had thrown her arm up to block the incoming venom, and the corrosive energy immediately dissolved the flesh on her hand. She shrieked in pure agony, "Ah! My hand!"
Something snapped inside Dys.
His eyes bled a furious, demonic red. Before Sybo could even blink, Dys vanished from his line of sight, reappearing directly in front of him, shielding the crying, agonizing Zyla. Seeing her tears was the ultimate trigger.
With a roar of pure rage, Dys ripped a sharp iron rod from his bag and drove it brutally straight into Sybo's mouth. He didn't even give him a chance to scream, turning into a blur of pure violence as he rained down continuous, crushing attacks onto Sybo's body.
As the brutal beating fractured Sybo's consciousness, his fading vision grew hazy. His mind drifted away from the pain, dragging him back to the very beginning of his life... to a warm childhood memory.
A young, pouting Simon Rodrigore was standing in front of him. "Brother, this is unfair! Why are you eating my pastry? Eat yours!"
Sybo's dying eyes were blurry, but as these memories flashed before him, a genuine, peaceful smile appeared on his bloody face.
Sybo's flashback unveiled a life born from tragedy; his mother had passed away the exact day she gave birth to Simon.
Years ago, a frantic Mr. Zayata Rodrigore was sprinting through the hospital corridors. 'Please, don't let me be late like last time! The letter I sent must have reached Sybo by now...' He burst through the entrance and rushed to the front desk, panting. "Where is Yani Rodrigore?!" The nurse looked up calmly. "She has been taken to the ICU for an emergency C-section."
Meanwhile, miles away, the doorbell rang at the Rodrigore household. A tiny, five-year-old Sybo walked over to the door. He was so small that his hands couldn't even reach the lock.
"Who is it?" Sybo called out.
"It's me, son, Uncle Hishimura," an elderly postman replied, his bicycle resting against the wall outside.
"Uncle, just slide the letter under the door. I can't reach the lock," Sybo said.
"Alright, child," Hishimura-san replied, slipping a crisp white envelope through the gap beneath the door.
Sybo picked it up, reading the letters aloud, "Sy-bo... is this for me?" He opened the envelope but couldn't comprehend the complex characters. For four grueling hours, the five-year-old sat at the table with his spelling book, translating the message word by word. It was from his father: 'Dear son, I have gone to meet your mother at the hospital. I will be back by tonight. Eat the food from the fridge.' Exhausted and hungry, the little boy collapsed right onto the table, falling fast asleep.
Back at the hospital, Mrs. Lily Rodrigore's intense treatment had been going on for nearly eight hours. Finally, the heavy doors of the ICU swung open, and a tired doctor stepped out, her hands visibly trembling. Mr. Zayata rushed over. The doctor paused, swallowing hard. "The situation is critical. We can successfully deliver the baby, but the mother only has a 15% chance of survival." She gave him a brief thirty minutes to say his goodbyes while the sedatives kept Lily stable.
Mr. Zayata walked into the sterile room where Lily lay pale and frail. As he gently caressed her face, a single tear escaped Lily's eye, falling onto his hand. She opened her eyes, smiling weakly. "Zayata... you're here. Where is our baby?"
Zayata choked back his tears, holding her hand tightly. "Listen to me, Yani... you cannot lose hope." With a heavy heart, he broke the news, repeating exactly what the doctor had said.
Tears streamed down both their faces, yet there was a strange peace in the room. Lily looked up at him, her voice a soft whisper. "Thank you, Zayata, for giving me such a beautiful, happy life. I am so fortunate to have had a life partner like you. Thank you so much..."
Zayata leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.
Watching this heartbreaking scene through the glass door was Doctor Zaya Qureshi, her own eyes welling up with tears. She knew this pain all too well. Zaya's own mother had passed away right after giving birth to her, and her father had raised her at her grandparents' house. She remembered standing in front of her father at the age of eighteen, telling him with a heavy voice: "Dad, I want to become an obstetrician. I don't want any other mother to die the way mine did." Her father had placed a hand on her shoulders, tears streaming down his face, saying, "No matter how big you become in life, always treat every human like a human, my child."
Remembering her vow, Dr. Zaya Qureshi steeled her resolve; she was going to save this woman, no matter what. Thirty minutes passed like a flash. As she prepared to wheel Mrs. Yani back into surgery, she turned to Zayata. "The chances are abysmally low, but I will try my absolute—"
"It's okay, Doctor. Just try," Zayata interrupted gently. "My son has already seen the world through her... that is enough solace for me."
The intense operation lasted for three grueling hours. When Dr. Zaya finally walked out, she froze, unable to look Zayata in the eye. Zayata didn't need words; he understood everything. Without a single tear, he quietly picked up his wallet, his blazer, and his personal diary. "Thank you, Doctor," he said softly, turning around and walking away into the cold corridor.
Zaya collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. After a brief rest, she walked over to a vending machine to grab a drink.
"What are you doing here alone?" a cold, familiar voice asked. It was her colleague, Mike Minayl.
The two doctors sat in the hospital garden—Mike sipping his typical cold coffee, while Zaya opened a non-alcoholic beer.
"Tell me, Mike... where did I go wrong?" Zaya sobbed, breaking down into uncontrollable tears. "I gave my absolute 100% today! But still, she's gone! Just imagine... if a husband watches his wife die right in front of him like that, won't he be completely shattered?"
Mike stared ahead, his expression unreadable. "He would be. But in a situation like this... you can't afford to break."
Zaya looked at him, wiping her tears. "Why?"
"Because," Mike said softly, "if the father breaks down, who will take care of the child?" The words struck Zaya like a thunderbolt, and she fell completely silent.
And Mike was right. After Mrs. Rodrigore's death, Mr. Zayata Rodrigore didn't shatter. Instead, he became both a mother and a father to his boys. Wherever he went, he dragged his two chaotic sons along.
Years later, the peaceful atmosphere of Zayata's corporate office was completely destroyed. The reason? A young Sybo had taken a massive scoop out of Simon's birthday cake! The two brothers were practically tearing the office apart, throwing punches and tumbling over chairs. In the middle of the chaos, Simon landed a solid, heavy fist right on Sybo's face. Crying at the top of his lungs, Sybo literally rolled across the entire office floor. The employees began whispering, wondering whose wild children these were. Terrified by the stares, Sybo scrambled up.
Wiping his tears, Sybo ran straight to Mr. Zayata, who was just walking back from the coffee machine. Sybo crashed right into his legs. "What happened, Sybo, my boy?" Zayata asked. "Simon hit me!!" Sybo wailed, pointing a chubby finger backward.
That was the life of Mr. Zayata—constantly managing these two storm-like, monkey-brained boys. But no matter how busy or chaotic their days were, the three of them shared one sacred ritual: every single day, before having lunch, they would visit their mother's grave and lay fresh flowers upon it.
(12 Years Later)
Time passed, and the young, chaotic boys grew into formidable young men. Sybo was now nineteen, and Simon was fifteen.
The room was filled with the harsh sound of zippers as luggage was packed. Simon asked sadly, "Brother... is this really necessary?"
Sybo didn't look back, coldbloodedly closing the trolley bag. "Why wouldn't it be necessary?" he replied flatly. Setting the luggage upright, he called out, "Dad, let's go. Your taxi is here."
The reality was incredibly bitter; Sybo was sending his own father, Mr. Zayata Rodrigore, away to an old age home for good. Simon stood rooted to the spot, knowing completely well that what his brother was doing was utterly wrong.
Mr. Zayata walked toward the door with heavy steps, his eyes brimming with tears. Stopping at the threshold, he cried out, "Sybo... what did I do so wrong? This is the year 1999. In this era, marrying someone of your choice—especially a love marriage—is not a crime! I truly love Iya, and all I said was that I wanted to marry her!"
But Sybo remained unmoved, forcing Mr. Zayata into the vehicle and sending the taxi away.
The 'Iya' Sybo and his father spoke of was no ordinary girl; she was a Mete. Most Metes still lived hidden among humanity, concealing their supernatural identities. At that very moment, in a hidden sanctuary, the Empress of the Metes, Empress Cokori, sat upon her throne. Right before her, Iya knelt on one knee like a disciplined warrior, her head bowed low.
"You must expand and carry forward our species, Iya," Empress Cokori commanded.
With absolute loyalty, Iya replied, "Yes, Empress Cokori... I am prepared for whatever it takes."
On the other side, as the car sped forward, Mr. Zayata's gaze drifted out of the window, falling upon the familiar graveyard they used to visit. He ordered the driver to stop the car, stepped out, and walked toward the cold grave of his late wife, Yani. Placing a fresh flower on the stone, his voice cracked. "One last time, this flower is for you, Yani. I never imagined a day like this would come... forgive me, Yani. I couldn't give our children a good life." As he broke down internally, a sudden flash cut through the air. A deadly bloodshot tore straight through his forehead. Without a single cry, Mr. Zayata collapsed onto the grass, dead on impact.
Meanwhile, Simon was running frantically down the street when he suddenly stumbled upon the lifeless body of his father. Paralyzed with shock, he froze, just as Iya materialized from the shadows.
A twisted smile stretched across her face as she stepped toward him. "Where do you think you're going? It's boys just like you that we need..." With a cruel laugh, she unleashed her Mete strength and choked Simon, lifting him by his throat to kill him.
Out of nowhere, Sybo blindsided her. Channeling every ounce of physical strength within his body, he brought a heavy iron hammer crashing down directly onto the Mete's skull, crushing her head. Sybo didn't stop there; driven by sheer rage, he brutally rained down strikes nine consecutive times until the living Mete was reduced to a completely lifeless corpse.
Sybo dropped the hammer and rushed over to Simon, who was shivering violently. Simon stammered through his tears, "Brother... what was that?!"
Sybo pulled Simon into a tight embrace and barked, "Run away from here!" At that exact moment, their childhood home erupted into a catastrophic fireball behind them. Terrified, Simon bolted into the night to save his life.
But Sybo did not run. He reached down, grabbed Iya's heavily crushed head, and marched straight toward the main stronghold of the Metes. When he kicked the heavy doors open and stepped inside, the entire assembly of Metes froze in absolute disbelief at the sight of him.
One of the elite Metes roared in fury, lunging across the room at blinding speed to tear Sybo apart. In a fraction of a second, Sybo casually tossed Iya's severed head into the air and unleashed a devastating kick. The momentum pulverized the severed head into a fine powder mid-air, and the strike connected squarely with the attacking Mete's face, killing him on the spot.
Before anyone could react, Sybo leaped onto another opponent's shoulders and violently snapped his neck. The elite didn't even comprehend how Sybo had predicted his attack, falling victim to a lethal counter-strike. The maneuver was so violently precise that the snapped neck resulted in an instant death.
Sybo lowered himself, his voice dropping into a chilly, detached tone. "I didn't like this at all. These things only look good in movies and fictional worlds—where a girl traps a boy in her snare and kills him. It only sounds good to the ears."
With those words, he unleashed complete devastation upon the sanctuary. The room turned into a slaughterhouse. Heads were violently ripped from shoulders as a literal rain of blood splattered across the walls, and the windows were painted red. He drove daggers straight into opponents' eyes, leaving them thrashing and screaming in agonizing pain.
After annihilating everyone in his path, Sybo walked directly toward the Mete Ruler.
The Ruler sneered arrogantly, "You made a massive mistake coming here."
Sybo glanced past him toward the back of the lair, where the volatile Mete Volcano was on the verge of erupting. Sybo calmly began counting down from ten, "Three... two... one."
The volcano erupted violently, triggering a barrage of environmental hazards. The Mete Ruler lunged forward, and a fierce, high-stakes battle commenced. A torrent of molten lava began flowing behind them, but this was no ordinary lava—the unique properties of this molten rock meant that if any Ruler or Mete's body touched it, they would instantly convert into solid stone, becoming just like the lava itself.
Both fighters knew they had to end this quickly. Sybo made a monstrous move, driving his sharp fingernails deep into the Ruler's eyes before mounting his neck and slamming him violently into the ground. Gripping the Ruler by his legs, Sybo began dragging him ruthlessly toward the flowing lava.
As they neared the edge, the Ruler shrieked in agony and terror, "How will you ever rule this empire? The one I have already completely destroyed! All the female Metes stay wrapped in my arms anyway, they have no other choice, otherwise I would kill them all! Even your girl did the exact same before she left!"
Hearing those words, Sybo stopped and turned around. Shocked to his core, his eyes bled a furious, crimson red. He dragged the Ruler to the very edge of the molten stream and hurled him directly into the lava. The Mete Ruler screamed in absolute agony, and as he thrashed in the molten heat, his body rapidly transformed into solid stone.
At that exact moment, Sybo—reappearing as an illusionary memory before Dys's eyes—whispered, "Don't you worry."
Suddenly, at the tail end of the flashback, Suzan Masachika materialized out of the shadows. Without a single word of warning, he fired a single, cold bullet, ending Sybo's life on the spot. Masachika had been the old rival of the fallen Mete Ruler. With this battle concluded, his rival was dead and the entire empire now belonged to him.
Masachika spoke in a chillingly calm voice, "Commence... Mete-chanism."
In truth, the law of Mete-chanism, instituted by Masachika himself, strictly forbade the soul of any deceased Mete from passing on to the Afterworld, Heaven, or Hell. He had sent active threats to Heaven and the Afterworld, but inside Hell, he was casually sipping tea alongside Lucifer. Bound by the mechanics of this absolute rule, Sybo had no choice but to serve under Masachika after his demise. He loathed it, but money... those crisp bills are a truly wretched curse.
And in the end, Simon remained the absolute last living species of the Mete lineage.
Back in the present reality, the fierce battle raged between Dys, Zyla, and Sybo. This entire sequence of the past manifested within Sybo's eyes because Zyla was actively deploying her divine powers, systematically erasing the very core of his supernatural existence.
Seizing the absolute opening, Dys raised his firearm. A rapid succession of seventeen to eighteen gunshots echoed through the chamber, tearing through Sybo's body and bringing his reign to a permanent end.
Exhausted from the massive expenditure of divine and physical energy, both Dys and Zyla collapsed onto the cold stone floor, falling completely unconscious.
Sprawled on the ground, Sybo gasped out his final, dying words, "I am very cruel..." With that final breath, his eyes closed permanently as his life slipped away.
At that very moment, Eeron Shuishen and Em Tennyson finally burst into the cavern.