“Which Division,” Cleeve said quietly, “does Omfry belong to?”

  Koby-Ann swallowed. “M–mine…”

  “So whose fault,” Cleeve said, rising to his full twenty-one-foot height, “is it?”

  “…Mine,” Koby-Ann whispered.

  Cleeve’s eye burned brighter. “Have any of you ever seen Pungence in person?”

  All three shook their heads.

  Cleeve laughed — a low, broken sound. “The Pungence you see now — the calm, diplomatic Titan of Hope — is not the Pungence that once walked this world. Three hundred years ago, one of the old Kottors killed the woman he loved. And that day…”

  He clenched his fists, his aura darkening. “That day gave birth to the Ruthless demon the world still feared. I was there on the Void Continent, I saw what he did.”

  Athena frowned. “There’s no continent called Void.”

  “That’s because it no longer exists,” Cleeve said coldly. “Rampofo and I were just children, but we saw what happened. The entire continent was erased — mountains turned to vapor, oceans boiled away. Don’t let that saintly reputation fool you. That Titan of Hope is a facade. Pungence isn’t a hero. He’s a demon wearing discipline as a mask.”

  He slammed his fist against the table.

  “AND YOU KILLED ANDREA!”

  The world exploded.

  A wave of raw Bravo burst outward, invisible yet unbearable.

  CRY

  The table split down the middle like glass struck by thunder.

  Koby-Ann, Athena, and Babba Tunde were thrown to the floor, screaming in pain. Their skin blistered under the sheer spiritual weight.

  “ARE YOU INSANE?!” Cleeve’s voice boomed across the room. “DO YOU WANT THAT DEMON TO RISE AGAIN?! We already fight tooth and nail to survive against the Enforcers — and you’d bring PUNGENCE DOWN UPON US?!”

  The chandeliers shattered. Flames from the torches flickered out.

  He pointed at Koby-Ann, his voice echoing like the decree of a god.

  “There is a reason the Binding Hand keeps him close. Even they cannot stop him.”

  The wave intensified. The others screamed — their bones vibrating under the force.

  “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE DISCREET!” Cleeve roared. “But now, thanks to this stupid camera man, the whole damn world knows the Orken Unbound were responsible!”

  The table finally gave way, exploding into splinters.

  Then — silence.

  Cleeve took a long breath. The air was still, heavy with the scent of burning ozone.

  Koby-Ann lay on the floor gasping, eyes wide with terror. Athena was trembling. Babba Tunde’s head was bowed, his golden eyes dim.

  Cleeve adjusted his torn clothes and turned away from them, his tone suddenly calm — almost too calm.

  “You’re going to fix this, Koby-Ann.”

  He took one step toward the door, his voice echoing behind him like a storm fading into the distance.

  “Because if that Ruthless Demon comes for us… we’re all dead.”

  ---

  In the heart of the Tertius Division, the air rippled with sudden distortion. The black steel floors trembled as a portal tore open at the center of the command hall — a swirl of violet and red light that hummed with barely restrained fury.

  From it stepped Koby-Ann.

  His coat hung torn at the shoulder, his face was blank, but his eyes—burned with silent rage. Every Unbound in the hall froze. The chatter died instantly.

  One man finally dared to speak. “Everyone—the Boss is back!”

  The chamber erupted in relief. Voices rose, echoing across the steel pillars.

  “Koby-Ann!”

  “Boss, welcome back!”

  “Did the council go well—?”

  But Koby-Ann said nothing.

  He walked straight through them, his boots clicking rhythmically against the iron floor. The sound alone silenced the hall again.

  Each step seemed to make the lights flicker. His Bravo leaked from him like heat from molten stone. The air grew heavier, pressing down on the men until they struggled to breathe.

  Across the room, Omfry stood — tall, scaled, proud. His Dragoon features caught the dim red light as he turned, a smirk forming on his lips. “Boss,” he said casually, “you’re back early—”

  Koby-Ann’s hand shot forward like lightning.

  A wet sound tore through the silence.

  His arm burst clean through Omfry’s back. The Dragoon gasped, choking as blood poured from his mouth. His claws scraped weakly at Koby-Ann’s wrist.

  The entire division went still.

  Koby-Ann lifted him effortlessly off the ground, one arm extended, his expression unreadable. His voice came out quiet — too quiet.

  “Do you have any idea,” he said, his tone trembling with venom, “what you’ve done?”

  Omfry coughed, his body shaking. “B—Boss, I—”

  “YOU KILLED ANDREA,” Koby-Ann said, tightening his grip. “YOU KILLED HER. AND BECAUSE OF YOU …”

  He raised his gaze. The lights in the hall dimmed until all that remained was the faint glow from his eyes.

  “BECAUSE OF YOU, WE'RE ALL DOOMED.”

  He drove Omfry downward, slamming him through the floor. The steel cracked like glass beneath the impact.

  Gasps echoed from the watching soldiers. No one moved. No one dared.

  Koby-Ann looked down at the broken body beneath his feet — the Dragoon’s blood pooling around the cracks — then straightened, his voice calm again, almost eerily so.

  “Get this trash out of my sight,” he said.

  Two soldiers scrambled forward, dragging Omfry’s limp body away as the rest stood frozen, afraid to breathe too loud.

  Koby-Ann turned toward the great window overlooking the ocean. The rain outside lashed against the glass in heavy sheets. He pressed his hand to it, his reflection staring back — cold, hollow, and dangerous.

  “Cleeve wants this fixed,” he muttered. “Fine.”

  His fingers curled, and the glass splintered under the pressure.

  “I’ll fix it.”

  Behind him, the entire division stood in terrified silence. The storm outside raged harder, lightning streaking across the sea — as if the heavens themselves were bracing for what came next.

  ---

  The iron doors screeched open.

  “Time for lunch,” said the muscular man, William, his deep voice echoing through the cell block.

  A guard appeared at the threshold, face hidden behind a steel visor. “Everyone out,” he barked.

  William moved first, followed by Valtos, Festus, and John.

  The guard scanned the room again, eyes settling on the unmoving figure in the corner.

  “I said everyone.”

  William hesitated. “He can’t move.”

  The guard’s patience snapped. He strode forward, grabbed Valerius by the leg, and dragged him out like dead weight. At the edge of the platform, fifty stories above the pit, he flung the body over.

  “I said everyone out.”

  Gasps rippled through the prisoners. Valerius hit the ground below with a dull, bone-deep thud that silenced the corridor.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Even hardened men winced.

  As they began their descent down the spiral stairs, whispers followed the sound of boots on iron.

  > “What’s a Yilheimer doing here?”

  “How’s he still alive after that fall?”

  “He’s a Yilheimer. What do you expect?”

  ---

  Beyond the gates stretched a sight that devoured breath.

  A vertical city carved into the walls of the abyss.

  Dozens of bridges connected stone to stone — suspended pathways webbing through the endless hollow.

  Thousands of prisoners moved in endless lines, descending stairways that coiled like veins through the rock.

  Harsh white bulbs blazed from iron pylons, flooding the pit with artificial daylight. The air hummed faintly — the sound of power generators hidden within the walls.

  Pentagon’s Hole wasn’t just a prison. It was an entire civilization in a wall.

  Guards in dark armor patrolled the bridges, rifles crackling with faint violet light.

  Below, rows of metal tables and benches stretched across the stone floor, where prisoners queued for metal trays of food.

  A guard pointed to the motionless figure on the ground. “Someone pick that guy up.”

  A man stepped forward, knelt, and gripped Valerius’s arm — then frowned. He couldn’t move him.

  “He’s too heavy,” he grunted.

  The guard sighed. “Then get help.”

  Five more men joined in, straining, their muscles tightening as they pulled.

  Nothing.

  Another group joined, until eleven men were gathered around Valerius. Even together, they barely managed to lift him an inch before his body slipped through their hands and hit the ground again with a solid, immovable weight.

  The guard pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Just drag him.”

  So they did — ropes and arms pulling, scraping him across the floor until they reached one of the long tables. They left him there, slumped forward like a statue that refused to die.

  The guard kicked the leg of Valerius. “Hey. Get up. Eat.”

  Valerius didn’t move.

  The guard kicked him harder this time. “I said get up!”

  Across the cafeteria, Valtos watched from the crowd, eyes narrowing.

  ---

  Valerius’s eyes opened.

  But not in that world.

  The cold stone floor was gone. The air was warm, still.

  He was lying on grass — soft, blue, and whispering gently in a wind that didn’t exist.

  Above him stretched a vast, silent sky, pale and endless.

  He sat up slowly, blinking. The world shimmered faintly, the edges of things blurring as if painted in light.

  “What the…” he muttered. “Where am I?”

  He looked down at his hands. They were translucent — faintly glowing, the outline of his veins like threads of silver fire beneath glass.

  “No way…” he whispered. “Am I dead?”

  “You’re not dead.”

  The voice wasn’t heard—it was felt, a resonance that stirred the air inside his skull.

  Valerius turned sharply.

  A figure stood before him — fluid and luminous, its form shifting like living mercury molded into the outline of a man. Two arms. Two legs. A face smooth as polished glass, without mouth or nose. Yet from where its eyes should have been, two white flames burned softly — ancient, endless, and aware.

  The being inclined his head slightly, the light of his body rippling like water disturbed.

  “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Valerius?”

  Valerius’s voice caught in his throat. “You…”

  Eperion’s tone was calm, almost warm.

  “You’ve been here before—well, not here exactly,” he said, gesturing to the vast blue field that stretched forever. “This realm.”

  Valerius frowned. “This realm?”

  “Try to remember,” Eperion said, his glowing form flickering faintly. “Three years ago… you stood before the Venery.”

  The memory hit Valerius like a pulse — the hall of spirits, the blinding light, the song of power that had called his name.

  He exhaled slowly. “So why am I here? How did I get here?”

  Eperion stepped closer, his outline blurring with each movement.

  “I pulled your soul from the mortal plane,” he said. “Don’t worry—you’re still alive. It’s a skill you’ll learn one day.”

  He paused, his luminous gaze softening. “You came very close to dying back there.”

  Valerius’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “I think… I’m immortal.”

  Eperion let out a light, echoing chuckle. “You wish. Too bad, you’re not.”

  He lowered himself to the ground, the air rippling as he sat cross-legged in front of Valerius. “Though, truth be told, there’s only one way you can die, Valerius.”

  Valerius met his gaze. “And what way is that?”

  Eperion raised a hand and touched a single finger to Valerius’s chest.

  “Because of this.”

  “Your heart,” Eperion said quietly. “It’s unlike any other. Always protect it. You could lose every limb, every drop of blood, even your head… and you’d still live. But not this. Lose your heart, and everything ends.”

  Valerius stared at him. “How do you know all this?”

  Eperion’s eyes flared brighter. “I’ve been alive a long time, Valerius. Longer than any calendar can count. I know many things.”

  Valerius’s tone sharpened. “Alive? Aren’t you… dead?”

  Eperion laughed — a strange, harmonic sound that reverberated through the air like the toll of a bell.

  “Dead?” he said. “Is that what you think we are? No, Valerius. Spirits are not the echoes of the dead. We are living beings—just existing on another plane of life, one layered above your own.”

  He stood, his body beginning to flicker like a candle in the wind.

  “I don’t have much time,” he said. “So listen carefully.”

  His voice grew solemn, heavy with something ancient.

  “Do not die before completing Solomon’s Tasks. If you do… it will not end well for you.”

  Valerius blinked. “Solomon? Who is Solomon?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Eperion said softly. “But you’ve met him before. The first time you entered the Temporal Plane — when that knight almost killed you.”

  Valerius’s eyes widened as memory flooded back.

  The tear in the air.

  The being that resembled the universe.

  The voice that had cut through reality itself.

  Eperion nodded slowly. “You remember now.”

  The world around Valerius began to distort — the grass rippling like liquid, the sky bending inward as if being folded into itself. His body grew weightless.

  “What’s happening?!” Valerius shouted.

  Eperion’s form was already fading. “You’re going back,” he said calmly.

  “Wait!” Valerius reached out. “I still have questions—”

  “All will be answered in time,” Eperion’s voice echoed, distant now, like thunder from another world. “Complete Solomon’s tasks… and you’ll understand.”

  The light consumed him.

  Valerius’s vision shattered into fragments of blue and white — and then the world went dark.

  ---

  To Be Continued...