Jarvis stood frozen, watching the impossible unfold. His pulse thundered in his ears. ‘What the hell just happened?’ he thought, his mind racing. ‘Is he bulletproof? No, that’s not possible. No one survives that kind of assault. And the way he fought all my men, all my trained men like they were nothing… it was inhuman. Those moves… that speed… no human can definitely fight like that. This was the last thing I expected.’ His hands curled into fists at his sides as Zane turned toward him, slowly approaching, completely untouched, blood speckled across his clothes. Zane’s amused eyes scanned Jarvis, seeing as he was ready to fight him, then he chuckled, mocking him. “Oh, come on! Are you blind or did you not see what I'm capable of, huh? What’s the matter?” he taunted. “You gonna fight me yourself now? Did you not see what I just did to your highly trained men?” He stopped inches in front of him, his voice lowering into a menacing scoff. “What chance does your puny little fist h

Victor was led down a winding staircase deep beneath the crypt, going underground. As the massive iron doors creaked open, he stepped inside and froze. The underground hall was enormous, lit with dim, flickering torches, and packed with people. Dozens of hooded figures dressed in black stood silently in long lines, arms outstretched, as attendants injected glowing liquid into their veins. Victor’s face twisted in unease. “What are they giving them?” he asked, turning to Jerry. “Power,” Jerry said simply, stepping aside toward the wall to stay out of the ceremony taking place in the center of the hall. “Our powers… they don’t last forever,” he said simply. “Think of it like a phone battery. You use it, it drains. The more we tap into our abilities, the more we need to refuel. These injections recharge us.” Victor gave a slow, uncertain nod, trying to process what he was seeing. His eyes drifted to a towering bronze crowned statue at the head of the hall. “And that?” Victor

At the Divine Order Temple, the morning prayers had just concluded. The soft murmurs of devotees faded into silence as incense drifted through the air like a gentle mist. Iria moved gracefully through the courtyard, her long robes swaying as she approached a newcomer, a woman holding a small boy’s hand.Iria’s face lit up with a warm smile. “I can see you’re new here, madame,” she said kindly. “Were you invited? Are you here to stay, or just visiting?”The woman smiled back, visibly relieved to be welcomed so openly. “I think I’m here to stay,” she replied. “I searched the name Azrael and discovered he had a temple… and I read that your order believed in his return long before he actually came. I had to see it for myself.”Iria’s smile widened with quiet pride. “Yes. We’ve awaited him for many years.”The woman hesitated, glancing down at her son. Her voice dropped slightly, filled with wonder. “Is he really… a God?”Iria nodded, her tone reverent. “He is. He is the God of Dominion,

Jarvis and Jason hadn’t exchanged a single word since returning home.The boy had locked himself away in his room, refusing to come down for meals, ignoring the maids’ gentle knocks, and even turning away his old nanny, the one person who could usually get through to him. But Jarvis hadn’t bothered to press. He had other, far more important things demanding his attention… like the ring now snugly sitting on his finger.Leaning back in his leather chair, Jarvis rolled the ring with his thumb, tracing its smooth, polished surface. A pleased sneer formed on his lips. He had tested it already, and it worked.A ring that made him invincible. Untouchable. Unstoppable.Jarvis chuckled quietly to himself, the sound deep and smug. “What a jackpot I hit,” he muttered, sinking further into the comfort of his office chair, as though the world now lay beneath his feet.Then came a soft knock on his door.His brow creased. “Not now,” he called, eyes still on the ring, unwilling to be distracted.Bu

At Velmaria Capital… The private jet slowed along the runway, its wheels screeching softly as it touched down. From the small window beside him, Jarvis could already see the perimeter black armored cars stationed too deliberately with uniformed personnel standing at precise intervals, their posture rigid. His forehead creased at the sight, knowing this couldn't be a routine procedure. The cabin door opened, and Leon stepped out first in his all black from his tailored coat to the gloves, the face cap pulled low, the mask resting seamlessly against his features. He didn't bother to look around the airfield in curiosity or caution, he just made his way down Unlike Jarvis as he followed behind, straightening his coat as his eyes scanned the scene and his instincts screamed warning. The reception committee approached immediately. At the front stood a senior Homeland Security official, flanked by soldiers in tactical gear. There was no press or cameras. “Mr. Grave,” the official s