The air in the slums suddenly curdled, turning a sickly, translucent gray.

  The familiar squalor of the alleyways warped into a jagged, unnatural landscape.

  The voice of the world resonated through the minds of everyone trapped within the shift:

  "World Organism 4: Land of Corruption.

  Territory Deployment: Active."

  Terror seized the children.

  The younger ones began to wail,

  but the older boy—the unofficial leader of the group—stepped in front of them.

  His voice trembled, but he forced it steady.

  "Don't be scared!

  We'll be okay.

  The Angel Prince is right here with us!"

  One skeptical boy, shivering as the corruption began to sap his strength,

  pointed at Mitsuo.

  "But he isn't doing anything!

  He doesn't even move!"

  "Robert-sir said he only reacts when it's necessary,"

  the older boy insisted, looking at Mitsuo with desperate hope.

  "I’m sure he’ll save us.

  He has to!"

  But the black-haired Primordial remained a hollow statue.

  His sapphire eyes stared through the gray mist, seeing nothing,

  even as the "Corruption" began to eat away at the magical stability of the area.

  "There! Look!"

  the boy shouted, pointing toward a dark corner of the territory.

  The missing playmates were standing there, their backs turned.

  "Come on, let's go!"

  He rushed forward to bring them back,

  but the moment he crossed a certain threshold, his eyes rolled back,

  and he collapsed into the gray mud.

  One by one, the children followed,

  their weaker cores unable to withstand the territory’s influence.

  Eventually, only the strongest stood, gasping for air,

  until they too fell into a forced slumber.

  Throughout it all, the strongest being in the group—

  the one with the power to shatter the world—

  didn't lift a finger.

  Suddenly, the gray mist was torn apart.

  Robert appeared, weaving a complex ritual that forcibly yanked the children

  and the silent Mitsuo back into reality.

  The slum parents rushed forward, wailing as they checked their children.

  "Are you okay?

  What happened?"

  As the kids slowly regained consciousness, they clung to their families.

  To the desperate parents, the survival of their children was nothing short of a divine intervention.

  They turned to the empty shell of the boy standing in the mud and bowed low,

  their foreheads touching the filth.

  "Thank you, Angel Prince!

  A miracle! You saved them!"

  In the distance, hidden in the shadows of a crumbling building,

  Robert let out a low, amused laugh.

  The seeds of a false god had been planted.

  In the weeks that followed, life returned to a deceptive normalcy.

  The children played with even more fervor,

  their bond with Mitsuo strengthened by the shared trauma.

  Clara, the young ghoul girl who had been present during the incident,

  became his shadow.

  She would sit by his side for hours, humming tunes and telling him stories of her dreams,

  convinced he was the only one who truly understood her.

  But as the night of the full moon approached,

  Robert’s smirk became a permanent fixture on his face.

  He watched from his balcony as the "Angel Prince" sat in his garden—

  a beautiful, silent god trapped in an endless, empty void,

  unaware that his worshippers were about to pay the ultimate price.

  The slums were transformed.

  Under the glow of the full moon, Robert had organized a grand feast to celebrate the "Birth of the Dark Wolf."

  To the dwellers of the abyss, the long tables of food and the joyous music felt like a miracle.

  They danced and laughed, convinced that the "Angel Prince" had brought civilization to their dark corner of the world.

  Even as a silent, raven-haired doll, Mitsuo was the center of their hope,

  surrounded by children who braided his hair and shared their joy with his empty shell.

  "Alright, everyone!"

  Robert’s voice boomed, cutting through the music.

  "It is time for the ritual!"

  The crowd bowed in unison, their eyes filled with devotion.

  Robert began drawing jagged scriptures in the air, his Mana Core glowing with a sickly, rhythmic light.

  Suddenly, the sky didn't turn gold or white.

  It bled purple.

  "Ritual Successful.

  World Organism 4: Evolution Sequence Initiated."

  The "Land of Corruption" didn't just appear this time—

  it transcended.

  The purple mist didn't just sap strength;

  it rewrote the minds of those it touched.

  The children who had been "saved" by Robert weeks ago were the first to turn.

  Their bodies contorted, their eyes glowing with a mindless, purple hunger.

  They turned on their own parents,

  and the celebration became a massacre in a heartbeat.

  Robert walked up behind the stationary Mitsuo, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

  "Aren't you enjoying this?

  You decided to hide in your little void...

  but are you truly insane?

  Or are you just a coward?"

  Robert’s eyes glowed with the power of the World Organism

  as he locked gazes with the dull sapphire eyes.

  "Still playing dumb?

  Fine. Let’s look at the stage."

  In front of them, a young boy lunged forward

  and drove a rusted blade into his mother’s back.

  The woman, even as the corruption claimed her,

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  refused to strike her son, falling dead with a look of agonizing love.

  "Does that ring a bell, Young Master?"

  Robert hissed.

  He then mimicked a helpless, feminine voice—the voice of a mother in her final moments.

  "Young Master... please..."

  He forced the boy to go on a rampage,

  mimicking the way Mitsuo’s own Sapphire Territory had once consumed his servants.

  A spark—a tiny, flickering light—finally appeared in the depths of Mitsuo’s eyes,

  but his body remained a statue.

  The horror intensified as the children began to hallucinate in the purple mist.

  "The Angel Prince!

  He’ll save us!" one boy cried out to the empty air.

  "Angel, help us!

  The monster is eating my parents!" another screamed before collapsing.

  The skeptical boy from before laughed hysterically at a wall.

  "I told you!

  He’s a fraud!

  He won’t even lift a finger!"

  "No!"

  Clara shrieked at the skeptical boy.

  "You’re just jealous!

  I won’t forgive you!"

  She picked up a heavy stone and brought it down on the boy’s head again and again.

  "Isn't it a sight, Angel Prince?"

  Robert laughed, his voice a jagged edge.

  "These idiots killing each other for the sake of a little food and warmth.

  Don't they feel pathetic?"

  Robert reached into his cloak

  and pulled out a legendary Philosopher’s Stone—one of only ten in existence.

  He slammed it onto Mitsuo’s forehead.

  "It’s time for the Angel to become the Black Wolf."

  The World Organism’s territory, which previously couldn't pierce the Primordial Core,

  was suddenly funneled through the stone.

  A pillar of purple light erupted from Mitsuo, screaming into the sky.

  Deep within the dark void of Mitsuo’s mind,

  the silence finally broke.

  The world was suddenly soft.

  The scent of ozone and burning flesh was replaced by the delicate fragrance of white jasmines and home-cooked stew.

  Mitsuo sat at the familiar oak table of his childhood.

  Everything was exactly as it should be—

  the warm light of the afternoon sun, the quiet hum of the palace.

  Across from him, Hana beamed with a heart-warming smile.

  "What's wrong, honey?

  Isn't the food good?"

  "It’s good,"

  Mitsuo replied.

  His voice didn't sound like a child’s;

  it carried the heavy, weary maturity of the boy who had watched the world burn.

  Suddenly, the door burst open.

  An eleven-year-old Rose stood there, her silver hair shimmering.

  She leaned against the doorframe, that familiar, irritating smirk playing on her lips.

  "Let’s go and play, dork."

  Mitsuo didn't argue.

  He followed her out.

  With a single blink, the scenery shifted into a vast garden of endless white jasmines.

  "What, are you not running?

  Too slow?"

  Rose taunted, her voice mimicking the playfulness of their youth.

  "No,"

  Mitsuo said quietly, standing still among the flowers.

  "You should win."

  "Why?"

  "Because I destroyed everything,"

  Mitsuo whispered.

  "Huh?

  What do you mean?"

  Rose laughed, spinning around.

  "We’re out here in the garden!

  Look!"

  Behind him, Hana appeared, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  Her eyes were filled with an impossible warmth.

  "It’s okay to fail, Mitsuo."

  Beside her, the Duke—Vergil—nodded in solemn agreement.

  The dream expanded.

  Zayden appeared in the distance, waving a hand.

  "Hey!

  I’ve brought new goods for the trade!"

  Rose ran to him, embracing him like a daughter returning home.

  Then, Mitsuo’s parents turned to him, pulling him into a group hug

  that felt so real, so warm, that his heart began to ache.

  The scene shifted to a vibrant restaurant.

  Mitsuo sat beside Rose, who was leaning on her hand, staring at him.

  "You know, you’re really handsome, Mitsuo."

  At the opposite table,

  Vergil, Frederick, and Zayden were laughing over drinks,

  a picture of the perfect alliance that never was.

  "You're a kid,"

  Mitsuo replied to Rose, his internal logic fighting the illusion.

  "Then why don't you be a kid, too?"

  Rose asked.

  Mitsuo almost nodded.

  He almost let the darkness outside go.

  But as he leaned in, the Rose before him suddenly shimmered.

  Her form stretched and matured until she looked exactly his age.

  She smiled—a smile so beautiful it could melt the coldest heart.

  "Don't bother,"

  she whispered.

  "I'll just grow up instead."

  Mitsuo smiled back,

  but his eyes didn't match the expression.

  They began to sharpen.

  As the "family" began to walk through the jasmine fields again,

  Mitsuo stopped.

  "How long are you planning to play this sick joke?"

  he murmured to the back of the girl leading him.

  "What do you mean?"

  she asked, tilting her head with perfect, practiced innocence.

  In an explosion of movement, Mitsuo’s hand shot out.

  He grabbed the girl by the throat and slammed her against a stone wall.

  "What are you doing, Mitsuo?!"

  his parents cried out in horror.

  "Stop this!"

  "Stop,"

  Mitsuo croaked, his voice breaking as hot tears finally began to stream down his face.

  "Just stop."

  The Rose he was holding didn't look scared.

  Instead, her smile turned into a mocking smirk.

  "Isn't this what you wanted?

  A world where they lived?

  A world where I loved you?"

  Mitsuo’s grip faltered.

  He slumped to his knees before her, his forehead resting against the cold stone.

  The girl lowered herself to his level, stroking his hair.

  "What gave it away?"

  "Rose..."

  Mitsuo sobbed.

  "Rose, out of everyone...

  would never say things like that to me.

  She’s not like this."

  "I see,"

  the entity replied.

  She didn't disappear.

  Instead, she wrapped her arms around his prone form, pulling him into a mock-maternal embrace.

  "Don't worry.

  I'll fix everything.

  Just stay here."

  Mitsuo was almost ready to give in,

  to stay in the forest forever.

  But through the jasmine, a scream pierced the veil.

  He saw Clara, the little ghoul girl from the slums, reaching out for him.

  "Help!

  Angel Prince, help!"

  Before she could reach him,

  a purple mist swallowed her whole, erasing her from the dream.

  "W-who was that?"

  Mitsuo asked, his voice trembling as he looked up at the thing wearing Rose’s face.

  The scene returned to the pleasant path leading toward the palace.

  The sunlight was golden, and the air smelled of rain and stone.

  Mitsuo walked beside the entity wearing Rose’s face,

  his movements sluggish.

  "Who are you?"

  Mitsuo managed to whisper, his voice cracking.

  "Well, I’m your best friend,"

  the entity replied with a perfect, practiced giggle.

  "Forget the questions.

  Let’s go before the sun sets.

  If we’re late for horse training, the instructor will be furious."

  She grabbed his hand, her skin feeling unnervingly warm.

  Mitsuo allowed himself to be pulled for a few steps—

  before he suddenly jerked his hand back, anchoring his feet to the ground.

  The artificial Rose stopped.

  She turned slowly, her head tilting at an unnatural angle.

  "So...

  you’re having second thoughts?"

  "I... I just don't feel good,"

  Mitsuo stammered, clutching his head.

  "I feel like I’m forgetting something.

  Something important."

  "So you really want to go to the other side?"

  The face before him suddenly paled,

  her features sharpening into something gaunt and terrifying.

  "Fine.

  I’ll let you visit."

  The golden light snapped into shadow.

  The atmosphere turned thick and suffocating as Mitsuo found himself standing in the center of the slums.

  He watched his past self—the "Angel Prince"—sitting among the children.

  "Why am I not talking back to them?"

  Mitsuo asked, watching a younger version of himself stare blankly while a child shared a piece of bread.

  "They look like they truly like me.

  Why am I like that?"

  The fake Rose let out a cold, sharp laugh.

  "Oh, don't mind that.

  Just keep watching."

  She led him through his own memories like a tour guide in a museum of ghosts.

  In this dream state, Mitsuo felt a strange detachment.

  He laughed at the stories the slum kids told his past self;

  he even smirked at their petty naggings.

  "These kids are quite something,"

  Mitsuo said, his voice regaining a hint of its old, mocking edge.

  "‘Angel Prince’... lol.

  That’s quite the name.

  Who even came up with that?"

  The figure followed him silently

  as he moved toward the memories of the palace.

  He saw Jack, watching his cousin’s psychopathic outbursts as if they were a dark comedy.

  He laughed at Jack's twisted logic, feeling a sense of superiority over the madness.

  It felt safe.

  It felt like he was finally in control.

  But as they approached a massive, swirling veil of black mist

  at the edge of his consciousness, the entity behind him stopped dead.

  Mitsuo looked back, confused.

  "What happened?

  Aren't you coming?"

  "Think again,"

  the fake Rose replied.

  Her voice had lost its sweetness, becoming hollow and echoing.

  "Do you really want to see the scenes behind that dark veil?"

  Mitsuo felt a sudden, icy chill crawl up his spine.

  "Why are you saying it like that?

  Till now, it’s been fine.

  It’s all been fine, hasn't it?"

  "Was it really?"

  she asked, her eyes turning into empty pits of black.

  "What do you mean?"

  Mitsuo countered, his heart beginning to race.

  "In any of these memories,"

  she whispered, stepping closer,

  "do you remember how you answered them?

  Do you remember a single reaction you gave to their questions?"

  Mitsuo froze.

  He searched his mind, trying to find a single word he had spoken to the children,

  a single nod he had given to the parents.

  There was nothing.

  Just a silent, blue-eyed void.

  "Am I... am I mute now?

  Is that it?"

  Mitsuo asked, his voice trembling.

  "That's okay.

  I can bear being a mute."

  "Do you really think,"

  the entity said, her red dress suddenly bleeding into a funeral black,

  "that you were like that because you couldn't reply?

  Or was it because there was nothing left of you to answer with?"

  To be continued...

  ? MYukH. All rights reserved.