Chapter 11
The abandoned hospital lay in an eerie, deathly silence, broken only by the soft hum of flickering overhead lights and the occasional creak of rusted metal. The once-sterile halls were now littered with corpses—dozens of assassins sprawled across the blood-soaked floors. Not a single one bore visible wounds, and yet the expressions frozen on their faces spoke of torment beyond comprehension.
Amidst the carnage stood Raziel, cloaked in a long, untouched black overcoat, its hem fluttering faintly in the stale breeze. His boots made no sound as he stepped forward, not a speck of blood marring his figure, as though death itself avoided touching him.
"What… What are you?" a trembling voice called out, filled with horror.
The voice came from the far side of the hall. Dr. Langston stood there, panic etched across his aged features. Next to him was Reaper—the infamous leader of the assassin syndicate—drenched in blood and breathing heavily, his body covered in slash marks, though none seemed to have landed a blow on the man in black.
Raziel's eyes, glowing faintly with an unnatural red, met Langston's with quiet fury.
"If I told you," Raziel said with chilling calm, "you wouldn't believe me."
He stepped closer. Langston instinctively backed away as Raziel's words sliced deeper than any blade.
"You were the last person I expected to want Selena dead," Raziel said coldly. "But humans… humans are experts in deception."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Killing you? That would be a mercy. But I'm not here to give you peace." He pointed a gloved finger at Langston. "If you don't want to experience a hell worse than death, go and confess your sins to the P.E.A."
Langston's face turned pale. "I… I can't!" he shouted. His mind raced. He had expected punishment, perhaps even losing a limb or an eye. But a lifetime of imprisonment, public disgrace? That was too much.
Behind him, Reaper saw an opening. Raziel's attention was focused on the doctor.
Now.
He sprinted to the door, pushing through it with all his might—only to find himself re-entering the same hall.
"What?!"
He spun around and bolted through the door again—only to come back inside once more.
"This… This is not possible!" he screamed.
He tried again. And again. The result remained the same.
A twisted loop. A prison of illusion.
His mind snapped. Desperate, he grabbed a dagger from his belt and hurled it at Raziel in blind rage. But the weapon stopped mid-air, frozen by an unseen force.
A second later, Reaper's body jerked violently. His feet left the ground as an invisible force lifted him upward. He began to convulse.
"Crack."
His neck twisted around, his head now facing backwards.
"Crack. Crack."
His limbs bent at grotesque angles, bone jutting out from flesh.
Then—snap.
Raziel raised a single finger.
Flames erupted from Reaper's body. He screamed, not in pain—he no longer had the voice to—but in the way fire dances in protest. The leader of death-dealers was reduced to ash within seconds.
Langston fell to his knees, drenched in sweat. He had seen death. Caused death. But nothing like this. Not like that.
"So," Raziel turned toward him, his tone flat, "are you ready to talk?"
"I… I will. I'll do it," Langston said, his voice hoarse. He gulped again and again as if swallowing his own fear.
Raziel gave a small nod. "Good."
---
Elsewhere, Selena sat quietly in her car outside the towering Dwargon mansion. The gates, gilded in gold, bore the emblematic letter "D" at the top—Dwargon, a name synonymous with power and legacy.
She really didn't want to be here.
But this wasn't a party she could avoid. Today was the grand birthday celebration of James Dwargon, the former patriarch of the Dwargon family and a name revered across continents. Everyone who was anyone was bound to show up—from politicians and business moguls to celebrities and generals.
Taking a deep breath, Selena stepped out and walked toward the entrance. Almost immediately, the grandeur of the event hit her—limousines parked in rows, sparkling chandeliers lighting the ballroom through open doors, and the low murmur of powerful conversations echoing across the courtyard.
"Isn't this Dr. Vale?" a voice called out, mocking and far too familiar.
Selena grimaced. She didn't need to look to know who it was.
Mark Dwargon.
The infamous son of the celebrant. A man whose arrogance was as legendary as his wealth. He strolled over with his usual swagger, dressed in a designer suit that probably cost more than a car. Flanking him was his personal assistant, Chris—flawless in appearance, demeanor, and speech. If not for Mark's last name, anyone would've mistaken Chris for the true Dwargon heir.
"Well, well," Mark smirked. "Where's that mysterious boyfriend of yours? Don't tell me he's left you for another woman already?"
Selena kept her expression neutral. "He'll be here soon."
Mark laughed, the sound grating on her nerves.
"Still trying to keep up appearances, huh? Don't worry. When she gets here, we'll see how well you talk."
"She?" Selena raised a brow.
Mark didn't reply. As if summoned by divine timing, a ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd.
Helen Rener had arrived.
The daughter of the Rener Conglomerate, she walked with an air of quiet authority. Her entrance was a statement—refined elegance, subtle arrogance, and a confidence born of status.
And behind her…
Mark smirked again. "There he is," he said, pointing toward the silhouette approaching in Helen's wake.
Selena narrowed her eyes.
As the figure emerged from the shadows, her heart skipped a beat—then steadied.
Not Raziel.
It was Ray Rener—Helen's older brother. A legendary Peace Enforcer, rated 7 Stars and known for his near-peak combat prowess. His reputation preceded him.
Mark's smirk twitched.
This wasn't how he had planned it.
Selena stood near a tall glass window, the departing sun casting a soft glow on her elegant white dress. Her expression was unreadable, yet her eyes followed Helen Rener as she entered the room, exuding confidence in a blood-red gown that hugged her frame with intentional boldness.
Helen caught her gaze, and with a wicked smirk, sauntered over like a queen on a battlefield.
"Well, well, if it isn't little Sel," Helen said, her voice drenched in mockery. "I heard whispers that you've got yourself a cool, handsome boyfriend. Where is he?" She tilted her head, her smile like a blade. "Or maybe he's just not worthy to stand in a place like this?"
Selena's jaw clenched slightly, but she didn't reply. Old memories flickered in her mind — children studying under lanternlight, laughing, dreaming of the future… until fate forked their paths.
They used to be best friends.
Until Selena passed the prestigious medical exams. Helen didn't. And in that moment, the thread that bound their friendship snapped. Helen never forgave her. Not because Selena gloated — she never did — but because her success made Helen face her own failure.
Helen stepped closer, her eyes flashing. "At least I have a boyfriend. With your ice-cold personality, I doubt anyone would even consider you. You think all your brains and quiet dignity will win hearts?" She laughed coldly. "Sweetie, this world doesn't work that way."
Selena turned to face her, her eyes like steel.
But Helen simply pouted playfully and flipped her hair. "My boyfriend is someone yours couldn't even come close to," she said with a slow, smug smirk as an image of Raziel flashed in her mind — sharp-eyed, calm, lethal.
Selena, keeping her tone even, asked, "Oh really? Then where is he? Or is he only real in your head?"
Helen's lip twitched. "Why so eager? He'll be here soon. Try not to faint when he walks in."
Almost on cue, the large double doors to the ballroom creaked open. The ambient music slowed. Conversations dwindled.
And then — silence.
A figure stepped into the mansion with the confidence of someone born to rule empires. He wore a pristine white suit that contrasted strikingly with his raven-black hair, swept back to reveal his chiseled features. There was an effortless nobility in the way he moved, a calm storm behind his eyes.
The crowd stirred.
"Wait, who is that?" one noblewoman whispered to her partner.
"Is he a prince from the notheen Region?" another murmured. "Was he personally invited by Lord Dwargon?"
Helen's eyes sparkled. Her heart fluttered. Her victory was here.
Raziel.
He approached with quiet intensity, heading directly toward the small group where Helen, Selena, and Mark stood. All eyes followed.
Helen raised her hand slightly, preparing to introduce him with dramatic flair, already imagining the look on Selena's face when—
Raziel's eyes shifted past Helen and landed on Selena.
He smiled softly, and in a voice smooth like velvet, asked, "Did I make it in time… Love?"
Selena's breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink as dozens of heads turned toward them. Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed a small, embarrassed nod.
Helen's world shattered in an instant.
"W-WHAT?! LOVE!?" Helen shrieked, her voice slicing through the room like shattered glass. Guests recoiled from the sudden sound, some covering their ears.
"H-H-H-How… Sel— Ra—" she stammered, frozen, unable to connect the pieces.
Raziel looked at her with mild confusion. "You're acting strange today."
A new voice cut through the tension. "So you must be that Dr. Vale's lover. The one they call a fairy." It was Ray Rener, Helen's older brother, stepping forward with a quiet air of superiority. He eyed Raziel critically from head to toe.
This is the one who took down the Clown Bandit? He doesn't even look strong… Ray thought, unconvinced.
Raziel met his gaze, calm as ever. "Why are you staring? Never seen someone handsome before?"
There was a smattering of laughter. Ray's brow twitched.
The atmosphere shifted as Lord James Dwargon raised his glass, starting the evening's formal ceremony. "To the distinguished guests of the Sotheen Region! I thank you all for honoring this gathering. Let this night celebrate not only our shared prosperity, but also the strength of those who protect us."
Applause followed. But not everyone was clapping.
Mark, still stewing in silence beside Helen, stepped onto the stage and raised his hand. "I have a suggestion to make this celebration more exciting."
Whispers rose in the crowd.
"How about a little demonstration? Let's test our bodyguards' strength... against Miss Helen's unbeatable champion."
Gasps erupted.
"Wait, what? Isn't that over 300 master-level bodyguards combined?!"
"Is he insane?!"
Raziel, seated lazily on a velvet-cushioned chair, sipped tea as if he were in a countryside garden, not surrounded by enemies.
Across from him, Helen's expression was stiff—caught between doubt and the crushing weight of pride. She had once seen him take down five men effortlessly… but three hundred?
"What's wrong, Miss Helen?" Alex sneered, folding his arms. "Didn't you say your bodyguard was undefeatable?"
His voice echoed mockingly, a bait disguised as curiosity.
Before Helen could respond, Mark swaggered forward, standing close to the edge of the stage.
"Maybe he's just a ghost story now," he said, eyes on Raziel. "Or maybe… the so-called great bodyguard of Miss Rener and lover of the renowned Dr. Vale is nothing but a worthless piece of—"
Selena's eyes darkened.
She stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor as she walked up the stage and stood before Mark.
"No. You're the worthless one."
The crowd gasped.
Ray's eyes flicked between his sister and Selena… and then at Raziel — still leaning casually against a column, sipping his drink as though none of it mattered.
A bead of frustration rolled down Ray's spine. He didn't expect Raziel to fight all 300, but… at least speak for yourself, he thought.
Mark scoffed. "Is that the best you got? Let me show you what I—"
SLAP!
The sound cracked like thunder. Selena had struck him across the face — clean, fierce, and without hesitation.
Silence reigned.
Mark turned, his face burning with fury and embarrassment. "How dare you—"
He raised his hand to retaliate—
Only to find his wrist gripped mid-air.
By Raziel.
He hadn't seen him move.
One moment he was lounging. The next, he was there.
His voice was low and deadly. "She already said it. But if you need to hear it again…"
Raziel's grip tightened.
"You're a worthless piece of crap."
Mark screamed and tried to swing with his other hand.
SLAP!
This time, Raziel struck him — casually, yet with such force that Mark spun mid-air before crashing to the floor.
The room was frozen.
Then Lord Dwargon stood, red-faced. "How dare you raise your hand against a noble at my event! Guards—lock him up!"
"Wait," Ray said, stepping forward. "Perhaps… there's a better way to handle this."
Tom added, voice cold but composed. "Let's make it fair. If he truly is unbeatable… then let him prove it."
The nobles murmured in excitement. Tension crackled in the air.
Lord Dwargon narrowed his eyes. "Fine. A duel. If Raziel defeats all 300… Mark will apologize and publicly admit his humiliation. If he loses… he will be exiled from the Sotheen Region. Forever."
The crowd roared.
And Raziel?
He simply downed the last of his drink and set the glass aside.
"Who goes first."
A roar erupted from the crowd of bodyguards. The first challenger—a brawny titan with scars and fury—charged forward.
He roared.
Raziel stare at him blankly then–
One punch.
The man's body twisted mid-air and landed like a bag of bricks. The crowd gasped.
"Too easy," Raziel muttered.
Another came. Then two. Then five. The storm grew.
But none of them lasted more than a few seconds.
Raziel moved with fluid grace—dodging, striking, flipping them effortlessly. He never broke a sweat. His suit remained immaculate. Not a wrinkle. Not a drop of blood.
"Why…why isn't he slowing down?" Mark mumbled, sweat dripping.
"He's not human," A noble whispered in awe, her hands trembling.
Phones were in the air—nobles recorded every moment. Streams went live. Posts went viral.
Soon, ten bodyguards charged at once.
One did a spinning kick. Another jabbed a taser. The rest surrounded.
Raziel flipped over them.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Bodies dropped like autumn leaves. Even Ray's stoic face showed surprise.
"He's a… monster," he whispered.
By the time the two-hundredth bodyguard fell, the rest froze.
They weren't stupid.
They had families.
But this man?
He was something else entirely.
Mark collapsed on his knees, his confidence in tatters.
"I'm sorry!" he cried, bowing to Selena. "Please forgive me!"
Selena looked down at him with pity and shrugged.
"You're not even worth the slap," she muttered, walking away.
And as if on cue, a cheerful noble called out:
"Now! Let's move on to the dance!"
The music had begun to flow through the elegant ballroom once more, ushering in the most anticipated moment of the evening—the ceremonial dance. Laughter echoed, glasses clinked, and well-dressed guests mingled in celebratory flair, but Helen's eyes weren't on the festivities. They were on Raziel.
She took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of her shimmering dress, and walked up to him with a hopeful smile. "Would you… dance with me?"
Raziel looked at her, his face unreadable as ever. "I'm tired from earlier," he said simply, his tone neutral, neither cold nor warm. Helen tried to hide her disappointment, nodding understandingly. "Of course. You did just fight off two hundred men."
She turned away, pretending to look for another dance partner, but in truth, her heart had dropped. Still, she swallowed the sting and reminded herself—he had his reasons.
But then she saw something that made her freeze.
Selena.
The very woman who had defended him, slapped Mark for his honor, was now approaching Raziel without hesitation. Helen watched closely, her chest tightening. Surely, he would say the same thing to her too. Right?
But Raziel turned toward Selena, and a soft smile, barely perceptible, touched his lips.
"You want to dance?" he asked.
Selena, caught off-guard, blushed deeply and nodded. "Y-yes…"
Raziel extended his hand, and she took it. The music slowed into a romantic ballad as they walked onto the dance floor, drawing everyone's attention like gravity pulling stars. The lights above dimmed just slightly, casting a soft golden glow over the room.
Helen stood still, her face pale. Her hands slowly clenched into fists at her sides as she watched them dance. She couldn't hear the music anymore. Only the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Raziel moved with effortless grace, leading Selena in a smooth waltz. Every turn, every step was fluid—unnatural even. Selena wasn't the best dancer, but in his arms, she seemed to glide across the floor. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips curved in a soft, astonished smile. It was the kind of dance that told stories without words, the kind that didn't just move bodies—but emotions.
Every spin was a whispered promise.
Every glance was thunderclouds filled with lightning.
The crowd stood mesmerized. Even the DJ had slowed the tempo, letting the moment stretch. Some guests began to record it on their phones—after all, Selena Rener, the greatest healer of Sotheen, dancing in public… and smiling?
Helen's mask of composure cracked. She turned away, but not before the final act played out in front of her.
The song faded, and just as Selena lowered her gaze shyly, Raziel stepped closer. She looked up, startled. Her lips parted to speak, but no words came.
Raziel didn't wait.
He kissed her.
It was soft, yet full of finality. Their lips met in a quiet but powerful moment that silenced the room.
The entire hall stood frozen.Those who hadn't expected it to happened were stunned. The recordings had now turned from casual videos into trending live streams. The entire Sotheen Region was watching.
Selena opened her eyes slowly as the kiss ended. "Wha… what was that…?"
Raziel's eyes looked into hers. "That's a goodbye present."
Her heart sank. She had forgotten—he was leaving.
Helen couldn't take it anymore. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, hiding her face in her hands as tears spilled from her eyes.
Ray rushed to her side. "Helen? What's wrong?"
But then he followed her gaze.
Raziel and Selena.
Still standing in the middle of the floor. Still holding hands.
Ray's expression hardened. "I see… so that's it. The untouchable bodyguard… captured my sister's heart without ever saying a word. But it looks like… he belongs to someone else."
_ _ _ _
The ceremony slowly came to an end, the golden glow of the chandeliers dimming as the final song played. One by one, the dignitaries, nobles, and elite families filtered out of the ballroom, their whispers lingering longer than their footsteps. Everyone was still abuzz over the dance, the kiss, the silent farewell. History had just been made—and it hadn't even been on the program.
Mark stood frozen at the side of the hall, jaw tight, hands clenched. His face was an uncomfortable shade between rage and humiliation. His family hovered behind him, equally stunned, whispering among themselves in hushed tones.
Mark's mother whispered, "That girl—Selena… she just kissed him? In public?"
Mark didn't respond. His pride had taken a blow so loud it echoed.
Meanwhile, outside the marble-pillared entrance, a sleek black car waited by the curb. Leaning casually against the passenger door was Tom Hanks, dressed sharply in a tailored coat, a cigar burning between his fingers. His gaze was fixed—not on the guests, but on one man:
Raziel.
He stood just a few steps behind Selena, quiet as ever. Still. Like a shadow that refused to disappear.
Tom narrowed his eyes, watching every movement Raziel made with the intensity of a hunter studying an unkillable beast.
No records. No past. And yet…
"He doesn't exist on any database," Tom muttered under his breath. "No academy background. No mercenary guild. No war record. Yet he fights like a walking calamity."
Smoke curled from Tom's cigar as he chuckled quietly. It wasn't amusement—it was obsession.
"Unbeatable, unreadable… unnatural."
He took a slow puff of his cigar, letting the smoke drift into the night as he opened the car door.
"Whatever your secret is, Raziel," he muttered, slipping inside the vehicle, "I will find it. Even if I have to peel back the sky to do it."
The car pulled away, disappearing into the darkened streets of Sotheen.
---
Selena and Raziel walked toward the car in silence. The city lights shimmered like distant memories, but neither of them said a word.
When they finally reached Selena's mansion, Raziel stepped out of the car, standing tall under the moonlight.
"Won't you come in?" Selena asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Raziel shook his head. "I've already stayed longer than I should."
Selena looked down. "Will you ever come back?"
"…Maybe. But not soon."
She bit her lip and nodded. "Okay… goodbye, then."
Raziel stepped forward and hugged her gently. "Don't worry about the assassins. They've all been taken care of. You're safe now."
Selena's arms reflexively reached for him—but before they could close around him, he was gone. The wind rustled the trees, but he had vanished like a ghost.
Selena clenched her eyes shut, holding her chest. It ached as if something was being torn away.
---
Somewhere else…
A transport bus climbed the lonely trail of Renton Mountain. The air was quiet. Peaceful.
Until a figure appeared on the road, standing in front of the headlights.
The driver honked. "Hey! Get off the road!"
But the man didn't move.
Instead, he looked up—his eyes glowing an unnatural, seething red.
His fingers slowly elongated, skin cracking, bone shifting. His nails grew into black claws, and his teeth sharpened into jagged fangs. Steam hissed from his body as if his very blood boiled.
"What the hell—?!"
The bus screeched to a halt, tires burning against the gravel.
The last thing the driver saw… was a smile.
Not a human one.
Something far worse.
To be continued.