Dawn crept over the forest, casting a golden hue across the treetops. Light spilled through the canopy, stretching long shadows across the floor below. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers.
Code lay among the foliage, bandaged and bruised, his chest rising in shallow breaths. Though asleep, his twitching limbs betrayed the pain gnawing at him. The wind kissed his skin, cooling the fever in his body, coaxing his eyes open with the touch of sunlight.
He squinted, shielding his face from the brightness. A dull ache pulsed in his limbs as he sat up. That's when he noticed a figure in the distance, shoveling dirt methodically into a hole.
Frowning, Code pushed himself up on shaky legs.
The figure paused and turned around—then smiled beneath his mask.
"Oh. You're alive," the man said, scratching the back of his head. "Honestly thought you were dead."
Code blinked, disoriented. "Uh… yeah," he muttered.
The masked man glanced at the deep pit beside him. "I was preparing a proper burial for you. You know, a fitting sendoff."
Code's stomach dropped. "A burial?"
He walked over to the hole, heart pounding as he saw the massive trench—at least ten meters wide, freshly dug into the earth.
The masked man chuckled darkly. "A befitting grave. Something poetic."
"You were going to bury me alive?" Code asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
The man shrugged. "Oh right. Breathing. Guess I forgot to check. Hahaha."
Code took a slow step back. The man's tone was casual—too casual. This guy's insane, he thought, skin crawling.
"I'm Vander… Ackerman. But you can call me Van," the man said, extending a hand.
Code hesitated, then took it slowly. "Van Ackerman?" he exclaimed, eyes wide. "The masked slayer?!"
Van grinned. "I'm surprised I'm so famous."
"But…" Code's brows furrowed. "You're a sorcerer, right?"
Van's smile faded, replaced by something colder.
"No," he said. "I'm not a sorcerer. I'm a god."
Code froze.
"R-Right," he mumbled, trying to laugh it off.
But Van wasn't laughing.
His eyes darkened. "More importantly… aren't you surprised your limbs are intact? You were butchered yesterday."
Code glanced down, and a chill ran up his spine. His skin—smooth. No cuts, no blood. Not even bruises.
"What… did you do?" he asked.
"I didn't do anything," Van replied, folding his arms. "Not directly. But there's something inside you, Code. Something… off. You're possessed."
Code let out a shaky laugh—then winced, clutching his ribs. "Don't joke like that. It hurts."
"I'm not joking," Van said flatly. "You've heard the legend of the Red Vermin, haven't you?"
Code's smile vanished.
Of course he had.
Two centuries after the Aidra incident, the Devourer had laid waste to Vietto-Roca—an invisible butcher, undetectable even by high-grade sorcerers. Villages were annihilated. Survivors were few. Eventually, it was discovered the Devourer was no monster, but a woman. Human. Ordinary in appearance.
...
(Vietto-roca is a province in Valtor)
...
But she had been possessed—by a creature that masked its presence and granted her terrifying power.
They called them Zeros—humans possessed by entities beyond understanding. Untraceable. Unstoppable. The ultimate predators.
Cold sweat dripped down Code's back.
He had always thought of them as fairy tales.
"What's your proof?" he asked, barely keeping his voice steady.
Van's tone was grim. "The way you healed. The aura around you. I sensed it. And there's more—something I can't put into words."
Code stepped back instinctively.
"You're not just any Zero," Van continued. "You're possessed by Aidra."
Time seemed to freeze.
Code's voice caught in his throat. "Aidra…?"
Van nodded. "The same one who nearly ended the world 1004 years ago. Somehow… he's inside you."
"No." Code's breath quickened. "That's impossible. Why me?"
Van's expression turned dead serious. "Let him out."
"What?!" Code's voice cracked. "Are you insane? I don't even know how! What if you're wrong? What if I'm dangerous?"
Van chuckled.
"But what if he is still that powerful?" Code pressed. "You saw what he did in the stories—entire nations fell."
Van's voice was impatient now. "Are you going to do it or not?"
Code hesitated, panic in his chest. Five minutes passed in silence as he stared, frozen.
"So… what do I do?" he finally whispered.
Van sighed. "Arrrgh. Good grief."
Then, with a sudden motion, he raised his right hand, two fingers extended toward Code.
"Open."
An invisible force struck Code like lightning.
His vision blurred. His body shuddered.
It felt like fire had erupted in his veins, consuming him from the inside out.
"Wh-What's… happening?" he gasped.
And then—
Darkness.
He collapsed.
---
Three black cars screeched to a halt at the forest's edge, kicking up thick plumes of dust. The doors flew open in unison, and out stepped three men in black suits, their polished shoes crunching against gravel. Sunglasses gleamed under the dimming sky, masking their expressions—though the tension in their movements betrayed unease.
One of them—pale-faced and jittery—froze mid-step.
"Uh… Look at that," he muttered, pointing into the distance.
The others followed his gaze.
What they saw turned their blood cold.
The once-vibrant forest had been reduced to a graveyard of splintered trunks and scorched earth. Charcoal-black stumps jutted out from the ground like tombstones. Branches were torn and twisted, and the smell of smoke hung thick in the air. Even the wind dared not blow too loudly here.
"Th-this is it?" one of the men asked, voice trembling. "This was the site?"
"It's… all gone," another murmured.
The third man stepped forward, scanning the devastation with wide eyes. "What the hell happened here…?"
The silence was oppressive, pressing down like a lead weight. Not even the birds dared to sing.
"This… this is beyond what we anticipated," one of them said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Think anyone survived?" asked the second man, though he already knew the answer.
A pause. Then the last one shook his head grimly. "Uhn. No one could survive this."
He turned, brushing soot off his suit jacket. "Let's return to HQ. There's nothing left here. No bodies. No life. Just... ash."
They stood for a few seconds longer, reluctant to believe it. Then, as if something unseen pushed them back, they turned in unison and climbed into their vehicles.
Engines revved.
Dust clouds rose.
And soon, the forest was silent again—deathly and absolute.
---
WAS HQ, Hazen.
Zoldrak's face turned beet red, his eyes blazing with rage. "What!" he thundered, his voice bouncing off the polished walls.
One of the men in black, still visibly rattled, stepped forward. "Nothing was left of the forest, sir. Everything was reduced to ashes."
Glock, lounging in a black chair to Zoldrak's left, let out a dry chuckle. "Tch. Looks like someone woke up in a real bad mood out there."
Another agent shot him a nervous glance, but Glock didn't seem to care. He stretched, folding his arms behind his head, wearing a half-smirk that never quite reached his eyes.
Zoldrak slammed his fist into the wall, splintering the wood. "Shit!"
He turned sharply to the agents. "Did you see him?"
They hesitated. One finally replied, "There were no survivors, sir."
Zoldrak growled. "No, you idiot. I mean Ackerman. Was he there?"
The man flinched. "N-No, sir. We didn't see him."
Glock tilted his head, almost disappointed. "Pity. I was looking forward to seeing what all the hype was about."
Zoldrak raised a hand, and the three agents hurried out, more than happy to escape the thick tension in the room.
Once they were gone, Zoldrak looked to Glock, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Glock's smirk faded slightly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Oh, I felt it," he said, voice quieter now, tinged with something colder. "That wasn't just any aura, boss. It wasn't like any demon I have encountered."
Zoldrak narrowed his eyes. "It felt wrong. Like it didn't belong in this world."
Glock's smile returned—this time thinner, sharper. "Whatever it was... it's not bound by the rules we're used to."
He leaned back again, crossing his legs, the light glinting off his ring—a strange, dark red gem embedded in it. "We'll have to tread carefully. Even gods get torn apart when they get too curious."
Zoldrak glanced at Glock, something unreadable in his expression.
But Glock only smiled.
***
TBC