Andrew’s gaze settled on Morin, flat and emotionless, as though he were already tired of the conversation, as though he hadn't just been threatened. “I don’t have any business with you, Morin. If you don’t tell me where Anastacia is, you’ll be the one choosing which limb to lose.” His voice was quiet. Cold and detached. Morin tilted his head and smiled as if Andrew had just told a joke. “You sure do have lots of guts. But I don’t know of what help that would be to you today.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket, flattened it on the glass table between them, and slid it forward. “Here. This is an undertaking.” Andrew didn’t look down. His eyes stayed on Morin’s face, his expression unreadable. “I’m going to propose this to you as a gentleman,” Morin continued, his voice dripping with mockery . “Sign this and walk away with the five million dollar check. Or…” “Or what?” Andrew snapped, his tone sharp and full of disdain. “I thought I made it c

The next day, Andrew set out for the Shadow Furnace. He didn’t know what to expect. But he wasn’t turning back. He drove in silence as he headed to the address his investigator had given him . After a few hours , he arrived at a lonely path surrounded by silence. No signposts. No lights. Just a one-storey building deserted in the middle of nowhere . Andrew's breath fogged slightly as he parked. The wind outside was cold, but he didn’t shiver. His body was too tense, too wired to feel the air. But something about it felt odd and cryptic . But Andrew waved off the feeling and walked toward the door. Two guards stood on either side, faces like stone. One held out his hand. Andrew didn’t speak. He simply passed the ID he’d been given—no name, just a symbol. The man looked at it once, then handed him a black mask. “Keep it on at all times,” he said. Andrew nodded. A third man appeared, tall and lean, dressed in all black. He said nothing as he turned and began walking. Andr

Hade tossed the head to the ground and let out a cruel cackle. “All hail Hades!” someone shouted from the crowd. And the crowd burst into reverence, praising and hailing Hades for doing what he knew how to do best. “Wow! This is exciting!” a man yelled, his voice trembling not from fear but from some wild kind of joy, as if he had just witnessed a miracle and not a murder. “He did that in seconds!” “I knew it! Hades is undefeated!” “Only one undefeatable Hades!” There was nothing exciting about what Andrew just saw, and the scene irked him in a way that crawled beneath his skin, like insects gnawing at his insides with sharp teeth made of guilt and fury, because what he had witnessed was not a fight, not even sport—it was a public execution and still they all cheered. He tried to blink the image away—the torn flesh, the severed head lying like garbage in the blood-soaked ring—but it clung to the inside of his eyelids like a second skin, and no matter how hard he trie

“I will go against Hade!” a voice suddenly said from the crowd. The entire room held its breath. At once, all eyes snapped to the direction the voice came from. But what they saw left them stunned A man half of Hades' size was walking up to the ring. At once , every face, once filled with the thrill of the fight, immediately fell into disappointment. It. It felt as if they’d just been robbed of a thrill they were promised. Mtchewww. A scoff tore from someone’s lips before they could help it. The excitement that had just begun to bubble inside them dried up instantly. They were expecting a clash of monsters. A challenge that could make the air crackle and the blood stir. But now, all they got was this… ant. “I was about to get excited,” a man muttered beside the ring, his voice laced with irritation. “Before I saw the insect that dared to say he could stand up against Hade.” A wave of disdain swept through the crowd. “Does he think this is child's play?” “He’

“Quiet, please, everyone,” the moderator snapped, barely holding control. He sighed, running a hand down his face. “In that case… let’s proceed to the next phase.” The crowd's roar slowly faded away as the moderator began "Tonight’s final fight is over," he announced, his tone loud and formal, but lacking the usual celebratory thrill. "And now… it’s time for our champion to receive his prize." Andrew stood motionless at the center of the blood-streaked arena, chest rising and falling, fists still clenched. He didn’t smile. He didn’t bow. He didn’t acknowledge the scattered cheers that broke through the silence. He only looked at the tray the moderator brought forward—on it lay the supposed crimson herb, gleaming unnaturally under the lights. He stared at it for a moment. His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as a cold wave of irritation rolled through him. He’d risked his life in that cage. He’d put his mind, body, and soul on the line for something that now sat in his palm as an