Beneath the surface of the earth, in a massive, twisted metropolis cloaked in shadows, demons and dark entities wandered among glowing crimson lanterns and arcane symbols etched into the very walls. The place, known only to the damned, was called Netherdeep a city forged in sin and sealed away from the eyes of men.
Within its inner sanctum, the hooded figure seen in earlier events made his way through torchlit halls, his steps silent, yet commanding. Ascending the spiral steps of a towering obsidian spire, he entered a grand hall where cultists and monstrous beings gathered around like followers awaiting a sermon.
He stood at the center, then raised his arms. "Greetings... my beloved Death of the End." His voice echoed with malice and allure. "Your lord and savior has returned bearing great news. Soon, this world will crumble, and our Omega shall walk among us again… if he simply snaps."
A deafening cheer roared through the room.
With a slow motion, the man dropped his hood. White hair, eyes burning crimson, and a devilishly handsome grin stretched across his face. His name carried weight, known only among the deepest circles of hell:
Lucien Veylor, the Crimson Prophet.
"I will bring him back," he declared. "Our weapon of God… the divine traitor himself. The world will kneel, or it will bleed."
Earlier that day, in his private chamber, Lucien sat upon a throne of bones, swirling a glass filled with thick, black-red liquid. A drained, angelic corpse Seraphim Valeria hung lifelessly behind him.
He took a sip and spat. "Ugh. Her blood tastes like regret. Dispose of the body." Several lesser demons scampered away with the remains.
Just then, a shadow crept from the corner of the room. He didn't look. "What do you want, my dear?"
Out of the darkness emerged Ayame, her disguise dropped. Her hair had turned jet black, eyes glowing a demonic red, skin now pale like ash. "That boy… he's impossible to break," she hissed.
"Oh?" Lucien smirked without turning. "You mean Ren?"
Ayame pouted. "I tried everything. Look at me beautiful, lethal, tempting. I could make saints fall. But him? He won't even glance. Instead, he's obsessed with that brat... Arisa Faelen."
Lucien's expression suddenly sharpened. He turned to her. "Faelen?" he repeated. "Lorth Faelen? Of the Ivory Cross?"
She shrugged. "Yeah, what about it?"
His eyes gleamed with wicked pleasure. "His daughter is there… and he's coming to Kaigenshiro. That old knight still seeks vengeance?" He laughed. "I killed his wife. Drank her blood in front of her shattered soul."
Ayame licked her lips, intrigued. "No wonder it tasted off."
Lucien stood and kissed her hard, his voice like velvet and venom. "I need you, love… but not for that. Go to Ren. Twist him. Break him. Make him awaken."
Ayame sighed. "I'll seduce the boy if it kills me…"
With a snap of Lucien's fingers, her disguise reactivated, reverting her into the innocent schoolgirl appearance of Ayame kind, sweet, and loyal.
"You wear those skirts well," Lucien mused. "But remember we're toeing the line of pedophilia here."
Ayame laughed darkly. "Yes, sir…"
Back in Kaigenshiro…
Aria stood in the moonlit corridor, arms crossed, tapping her foot. "Where the hell is she…"
At last, the door creaked open. Ayame walked in casually.
"You're late," Aria said, glaring. "It's 1 a.m., sweetheart."
Ayame feigned a blush. "Sorry, I got caught up."
Aria raised an eyebrow. "You're not doing hookups, are you?"
"What? No!" Ayame replied with mock offense. "Why would I? I'm in love with Ren, remember?"
Aria looked disgusted. "Go to bed. We've got training tomorrow."
Ayame turned with a wicked grin. "Okayyy…" She flopped onto her bed, whispering under her breath, "Disgusting."
Then she curled up, smiling in the dark — thinking only of the chaos to come.