The ground beneath her was soaked.
Cold liquid pooled around her knees, soaking through torn fabric and clinging to her skin. It wasn't clean water—it smelled metallic, stale, like something that had been left to rot. When she shifted slightly, ripples spread outward in slow, lazy circles. She couldn't even see the floor beneath it.
Only darkness.
Only filth.
Lamia's eyes opened halfway, unfocused at first. Her lashes were heavy, her vision blurred by dim light and exhaustion. A faint buzzing sound filled the air—then she noticed it.
A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.
Flickering.
She was somewhere unfamiliar.
Her fingers twitched weakly against the ground. The cold seeped deeper into her bones as awareness crept in—and with it, memory.
Kise.
The image slammed into her mind without warning.
Twisted limbs. Torn flesh. A body that no longer resembled a person.
Silence followed.
No scream. No tears.
Nothing.
Her expression didn't change. It didn't need to. She had already exhausted everything she had to feel.
She had hated.
She had grieved.
She had broken.
And now... there was nothing left.
A hollow shell.
Until—
"Ahem."
The sound cut cleanly through the room.
Lamia's gaze slowly lifted.
Eight figures stood in a wide circle around her, their silhouettes barely visible beyond the dim light. Each one was still—unnaturally still—as if they had been waiting for her to wake.
They wore masks.
Different masks.
Strange masks.
These were not ordinary people.
These were the highest-ranking officials within the Court.
The Sinners.
They stood like a council—like judges surrounding something already condemned.
Lamia didn't move. Her eyes traced them one by one.
The first stood slightly forward.
Potential Sin — Lemur.
His mask was white, cracked, and worn like it had endured centuries of damage. At its center, a scribbled black void twisted inward, like something trying to erase itself. His posture was relaxed, but his presence felt... unstable.
Next—
Kinetic Sin — Ayumi.
Small. Almost childlike. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her ragged white mask marked by a ticking clock embedded at its center. The second hand moved endlessly. Restlessly. Like she couldn't stop.
Gravitational Sin — Daigo.
An old man stood with a cane planted firmly into the ground. His long white beard spilled from beneath a mask shaped like Saturn. The ring around it rotated slowly, continuously, defying logic. His body looked frail—but the air around him felt heavy.
Oppressive.
Thermal Sin — Icarus.
Tall. Broad. His dragon-shaped mask was crafted from bone, jagged edges curling outward. Heat seemed to radiate from him subtly, distorting the air. His arms were crossed, unmoving.
Nuclear Sin — Taro.
Slouched in his seat, his bomb-shaped mask tilted slightly downward. He looked... absent. Like he wasn't entirely there. His fingers tapped lazily against his knee.
Electromagnetic Sin — Violet.
A white tiger mask framed her face, but her eyes—those eyes—pierced through the darkness. Red irises with sharp golden pupils locked onto Lamia. She didn't blink.
Predatory.
Chemical Sin — Hurm.
His mask filtered the air constantly, soft hissing sounds escaping from it. Tubes ran along his neck and shoulders. He didn't move at all.
Sonic Sin — Romero.
No mask. Just dark glasses and a clean suit. He stood with his hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted as if listening to something no one else could hear.
Silence settled over them.
Then—
"Young one."
Daigo's voice was low, gravelly. It carried weight.
"Awaken yourself."
He tapped his cane once.
The sound echoed.
"We know of your existence," he continued, stepping forward slowly, the water rippling around his feet without splashing. "And I can assure you..."
A pause.
"Your life ends here."
The light flickered again.
Lamia didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't breathe any differently.
If anything—she looked bored.
Her dull eyes met his.
She had already accepted death long before this moment.
The chains tightened.
Without warning, the metal restraints binding her wrists and ankles snapped taut—jerking her violently upward.
Her body lifted into the air.
Her limbs stretched in opposite directions.
The strain was immediate.
Brutal.
Enough to tear flesh from bone.
Daigo watched closely.
"Unless," he said calmly, "you agree to help humanity."
The room seemed to grow colder.
"You will be punished," he continued, "until you wish you were dead."
He didn't look away.
"Lemur."
A subtle nod.
A pull.
A sickening sound tore through the room.
One of Lamia's arms ripped clean off.
It hit the water with a dull splash.
Blood spread outward.
She didn't scream.
Didn't twitch.
Didn't even blink.
The room shifted.
Something about that... wasn't normal.
Daigo's grip tightened on his cane.
"...You will serve under us," he continued, though his voice carried a faint edge now. "Like a dog."
Still nothing from her.
"You will destroy the Ten Shinigami."
A pause.
"Or you will continue to suffer."
Another signal.
The chains loosened.
Her body dropped.
Thud.
Her head struck the ground first, water splashing around her. Her black hair spread across the surface like ink, mixing with the blood.
She lay there.
Still.
Empty.
Then—
"...Okay."
The word came quietly.
Flat.
Daigo exhaled slowly.
"Good."
He motioned forward.
"Drink."
A glass of blood was brought toward her.
But before it even reached her—
She moved.
Her expression shattered.
Her eyes widened.
Her hands trembled.
Like something inside her had snapped back to life.
Tears welled up instantly.
Her breathing grew uneven.
Desperate.
Hungry.
She snatched the glass and drank.
Fast.
Too fast.
The blood ran down her chin, staining her already ruined clothes.
The room tensed.
Even the Sinners shifted slightly.
Her arm—her missing arm—began to regenerate.
Bone.
Muscle.
Skin.
Reforming in seconds.
But her crying didn't stop.
It echoed softly in the room.
Unsettling.
Wrong.
Daigo stepped closer, placing a hand on her head.
"Don't cry."
His voice softened—but it wasn't kind.
"This is only the beginning."
---
The next room was smaller.
Quieter.
Two chairs sat across from each other under a dim light.
"Sit."
Lamia obeyed without hesitation, her bare feet making soft sounds against the cold floor. Her clothes hung loosely, torn where her limbs had been ripped away.
Daigo watched her carefully before speaking again.
"You know nothing... do you?"
She stared blankly.
"The world. Its core. The reason demons exist."
No response.
"The Ten Shinigami."
Still nothing.
"Seishin."
She slowly shook her head.
Daigo sighed.
Then he began.
"The Ten Shinigami..."
His voice filled the room as he listed them.
"Gluttony. Judgement. Sloth. Theft. Greed. Wrath. Deserter. Pride. Slaughterer. Chance."
Each name carried weight.
"They seek to dominate this world. To turn it into something unrecognizable. A place where humans are nothing but food."
He leaned forward slightly.
"The only thing stopping them..."
A pause.
"Is us."
Silence followed.
"You'll understand Seishin eventually."
He stood.
"For now—you won't be alone."
The door opened.
Two figures stepped inside.
"Enter. Bero. Bat."
Bat shuffled in first, rubbing his eyes. His spiky white hair stuck out in every direction, and his posture screamed exhaustion.
"I wanna sleep..." he mumbled, barely lifting his head.
Behind him—
Bero.
Sharp. Clean. Composed.
Slicked-back black hair. A fitted black shirt. Earrings that swayed slightly as he walked.
And the tattoo.
"Punish."
On his neck.
On his tongue.
His eyes widened slightly.
"She's... alive?"
Daigo turned.
"It is your duty to lead them."
Then he left.
Just like that.
The door shut.
Silence.
Bero chuckled.
Then—
He moved.
Fast.
His fist shot forward toward Lamia's face.
BOOM.
The impact shook the room.
But—
Not Lamia.
A wing.
Bat stood in front of her now, one large wing extended, blocking the strike.
Bero stepped back, raising an eyebrow.
"You're protecting her?"
Bat yawned.
"I dunno... felt right."
Bero laughed.
"I like that."
He raised two fingers.
Scratched the air.
A distortion cut forward instantly—
Bat barely raised his guard in time.
CLANG.
The hit landed.
Invisible.
"Where the hell—?!" Bat stumbled back, now fully awake.
Lamia slowly stood up behind him.
"...Can I try?"
Both of them froze.
"WHAT do you mean 'try'?" Bero snapped.
"I thought you were strong?"
"I don't know what I am," she replied quietly.
She looked at her hand.
Focused.
Strained.
Nothing happened.
Bero sighed, walking over before lightly knocking her on the head.
"Idiot."
He grabbed her hand, opening her palm.
"Think," he said. "Anything. Emotion. Memory. Just picture it."
She closed her eyes.
Blood.
Pain.
Hatred.
Kise.
Something formed.
A black liquid.
Floating.
Alive.
Bero's expression changed.
"...Black?"
He leaned closer.
"That's new."
Behind them, Bat had already laid down.
Asleep.
"...Unbelievable," Bero muttered.
He stood up, grinning.
"Alright. Perfect timing."
He stretched slightly.
"We've got a job out in the countryside."
He looked back at her.
"Show me what you can do."
Lamia nodded.
Elsewhere—
"Was that wise?" Lemur asked.
Daigo stood in silence.
"...We'll see."