The black-dressed entity stood perfectly still as Mitsuo tried to steady his breathing.

  "If you want me to, I can follow you,"

  the fake Rose said, her voice dropping into a hollow, echoing tone.

  "Oh... yes. Come with me,"

  Mitsuo replied, trying to regain his typical composure.

  "But at least stop using that face.

  I can't really digest someone with her face being my... whatever you are.

  My mentor?"

  The entity offered a smile that didn't reach its eyes.

  "I have not taken this form, Mitsuo.

  You have selected it for me."

  "What do you mean?!"

  Mitsuo snapped.

  "I am formless.

  I appear as the person the soul before me desires to see most."

  Mitsuo felt a jolt of heat in his cheeks and quickly looked away, shrugging to hide his mounting nervousness.

  "What?!

  Huh... geez, this is really weird.

  Why would I want to see you as her anyway?

  Whatever, let's just go."

  A playful, almost predatory smile erupted on the fake Rose’s face.

  She suddenly lunged forward, clinging tightly to Mitsuo’s arm as he moved toward the dark veil.

  Mitsuo tried to act unbothered, puffing out his chest to look "cool,"

  but as soon as they crossed the threshold into the darkness,

  the weight on his arm vanished.

  He was alone.

  The world was lit in a sickly, pulsating blue—the exact hue of his Primordial Sapphire territory.

  As he stepped forward, he saw a phantom of his twelve-year-old self,

  eyes glowing with a berserk light, burning everything in sight.

  Mitsuo panicked, the heat of the memory feeling all too real.

  He turned and ran into the next fragment of smoke.

  He emerged in the slums, right into the middle of Robert’s carnage.

  He saw the skeptical boy—the only one who had questioned the "Angel Prince"—

  standing amidst the purple mist.

  "Finally! Someone with a brain!"

  Mitsuo shouted at the memory, his voice cracking.

  "Everyone, listen to him!

  There's no way that prince is going to save you!

  Run!"

  But the people in the memory couldn't hear him.

  As Mitsuo watched, Clara—the girl who had adored him—screamed in a tranced rage.

  "You're just jealous of him!"

  She brought the boulder down.

  Mitsuo’s pupils dilated in horror as the boy’s skull was crushed.

  But before the memory faded, the dying boy’s eyes shifted.

  He didn't look at the trance-state Clara.

  He looked directly at the real Mitsuo, his gaze filled with a soul-crushing grudge.

  Mitsuo recoiled, stumbling back only to find dozens of other eyes—

  the parents, the children, the beggars—

  all staring at him with the same silent accusation.

  He turned to run, but the path was a loop of nightmares.

  He tripped over the phantom bodies of his own palace servants.

  "Young Master!"

  they screamed, their voices overlapping into a deafening roar.

  "Save us!

  Why did you burn us?!

  Save us!"

  Their charred hands reached out, grasping at his boots.

  "Stop it!

  Get away!"

  Mitsuo covered his eyes, his mind fracturing.

  "Rose!

  Rose!

  Whoever you are... help me!!"

  The world blinked.

  The screams vanished.

  The smell of ash was replaced by the scent of horses and hay.

  Mitsuo was back on the path to the stables,

  the golden afternoon sun warming his skin.

  The entity stood before him, wearing the silver-haired face once more,

  smiling with a terrifyingly sweet tenderness.

  "I'm right here,"

  she whispered.

  Terrified and broken by the reality he had just seen,

  Mitsuo didn't care that she was a monster.

  He lunged forward, clinging to the entity

  as if she were the only life raft in a sea of blood.

  The warmth of the sun and the scent of the stables felt so close,

  yet Rose stopped just short of the door.

  Mitsuo, sensing a shift in the air,

  felt a cold knot of dread tighten in his chest.

  "What happened?"

  he asked, his voice trembling.

  "I have something I have not shown you yet,"

  she said, her voice dropping an octave into something ancient and resonant.

  Mitsuo lunged forward, grabbing her hands with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.

  "Leave it!

  I don’t want to know!

  I don’t want to see anything else!

  Just stay here with me!"

  The creature’s eyes lit up with a sickening, predatory delight.

  "I would have loved to agree to that,"

  she purred, her form flickering like a dying candle.

  "But unfortunately, it is part of the Spirit Contract.

  I must fulfill the sequence.

  But don't worry...

  you'll get another chance to choose."

  "What do you mean?!"

  Mitsuo screamed.

  The ground beneath him dissolved into a swirling black portal.

  The last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him

  was her smirk—

  and a fleeting, cruel spark of Hope.

  Mitsuo "woke up."

  But he was no longer in the jasmine garden.

  He was back in the cold, stone halls of the Royal Palace.

  He could see through his own eyes, hear through his own ears,

  but his body felt like a leaden suit of armor.

  He was a passenger in his own skin,

  unable to even twitch a finger.

  He saw Jack sprint toward him,

  his golden hair disheveled and a blood-stained knife in his hand.

  "Brother!

  You’re there, aren't you?"

  Jack chirped, his eyes wide with a manic glow.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "See how easily that squirrel died?

  It was so funny!

  It kept trying to shield its offspring with its tiny body,

  but it didn't even last a minute against the blade.

  The way it twitched...

  it really looked good, didn't it?"

  Jack’s laughter echoed in the hall.

  Mitsuo tried to scream, tried to strike his cousin,

  but his mind was walled off.

  He was forced to witness it all—

  the birds, the hounds, the casual cruelty

  that Jack treated like a playground game.

  Months of memories flickered by like a grotesque film.

  He saw Jack’s "philosophy" laid bare:

  the world was divided into those who played the game

  and those who were the toys.

  And terrifyingly, Mitsuo realized Jack wasn't trying to hurt him.

  Jack was trying to teach him.

  He was sharing his world.

  The breaking point came during a memory of a young maid.

  Jack had systematically severed her legs,

  laughing as she shrieked for mercy.

  Mitsuo, exhausted by the constant horror,

  felt a sudden, jagged snap in his psyche.

  Internally, Mitsuo let out a sharp, hysterical laugh.

  The moment the thought surfaced,

  the scene froze.

  Robert materialized from the shadows behind him,

  leaning into his ear.

  "You laughed, didn't you, Young Master?"

  Mitsuo froze in his internal void.

  The scene shifted instantly to the slums.

  He saw the dwellers—the desperate, starving families—

  falling to their knees in the filth just for a single gold coin.

  "Do you see them now?"

  Robert whispered, his voice like a snake sliding through grass.

  "Aren't they just like insects, Mitsuo?

  Crawling in the mud, begging for a master’s scrap?

  Why feel for them?

  Why suffer for them?"

  For the first time, Mitsuo didn't push the thought away.

  He found himself looking at the bowed heads and the desperate hands,

  and he didn't feel pity.

  He felt a cold, distant curiosity.

  But this was only the beginning of the descent.

  Inside the fractured psyche of Mitsuo,

  the flood of memories—the adoration of the slums,

  the cruelty of Jack,

  and the cold logic of Robert—

  finally reached a breaking point.

  The sheer volume of psychological manipulation became too much to resist.

  Mitsuo threw his head back and laughed,

  a hollow, jagged sound that mirrored Robert’s own.

  "So, Young Master,"

  Robert purred, sensing the shift.

  "Are you ready to descend as the Black Wolf?"

  Mitsuo opened his mouth to utter the final yes

  that would seal his soul—

  but the air suddenly buckled.

  An external force hammered against the dreamscape,

  causing Robert’s mana scriptures to flicker and fade.

  "No!"

  Robert screamed, his face contorting in desperation.

  "He was almost there!

  He was about to say it!"

  The dream collapsed.

  Back in the reality of the slums,

  Mitsuo’s body jerked awake in the ritual chair.

  His sapphire eyes, once dull and empty,

  were now filled with swirling Dark Stars—

  a sign of a corrupted Primordial awakening.

  Robert, standing beside him,

  ignored the instability of the ritual

  and raised his hands to the purple sky.

  "I’ve succeeded!

  The Black Wolf is born!"

  But the celebration was short-lived.

  Mitsuo’s aura exploded outward

  with a violence that instantly snuffed out

  the purple light of the Corruption.

  As the mist cleared,

  the surviving slum dwellers—

  traumatized and confused—

  saw their "Angel Prince" standing for the first time.

  Believing Robert’s earlier lies

  that the Prince only acted when needed,

  one man crawled forward through the mud,

  reaching out a trembling hand.

  "Angel...

  save us..."

  Mitsuo didn't look down.

  He simply stepped forward,

  his boot crushing the man's hand into the dirt

  with a sickening crunch.

  The scream that followed shattered the people’s faith in an instant.

  Terror rippled through the crowd,

  but Clara stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  Mitsuo unleashed his Aura Core at full output.

  The atmospheric pressure alone

  was enough to crush the lungs

  of the weakened slum dwellers.

  They dropped like flies,

  their bodies unable to withstand

  the gravity of a Primordials rage.

  Ironically, only Clara remained standing—

  not by luck,

  but because Mitsuo had intentionally spared her

  from the initial wave.

  The Black Wolf began to walk toward the ghoul girl,

  his footsteps heavy and rhythmic,

  like a predator approaching cornered prey.

  [The Astral Plane: Dimensional Void]

  In a space beyond human comprehension,

  two ancient voices roared in fury.

  "He did not say yes!

  What do you think you're doing, World Organism 4?!

  This is a blatant violation of our contract!"

  The formless manifestation of the Land of Corruption flickered.

  "I apologize for the violation.

  But the contractor, Robert, betrayed me first.

  I was unable to fulfill my contract with you

  because the medium was severed."

  "What do you mean?!"

  the voice demanded in panic.

  "Fix it!

  Re-seal his mind!"

  "It is beyond me now,"

  the World Organism replied,

  a hint of a smirk in its echoing voice.

  "Robert removed the Philosopher’s Stone—

  the only object that allowed my essence

  to touch the Primordials soul.

  However..."

  the entity paused.

  "Since the contractor violated his side of the ritual,

  I am no longer bound by my restrictions."

  "Explain yourself!"

  "If you allow me to transcend into the physical plane

  in my full, unrestricted form...

  I will fulfill the contract.

  I will hunt the Primordial myself."

  Mitsuo’s hand was a cold, iron vise around Clara’s throat.

  The "Black Wolf" looked at her with eyes that saw only prey,

  his dark stars swirling in a void of sapphire.

  Behind them, Jack’s laughter filled the air,

  a high-pitched, jagged sound of pure delight.

  He was watching his "brother" finally embrace the world as he saw it.

  But the silence was broken by a small, trembling voice.

  "Clara!

  No!

  Run away!"

  A little girl, Claire, stood a few feet away,

  her face a mirror of Clara’s own.

  She was shaking, her eyes wide with terror

  as she watched the "Angel" she had worshipped

  turn into a monster.

  "Claire...

  no...

  run..."

  Clara gasped, the air leaving her lungs.

  "He'll kill you!"

  Claire cried, stepping forward to help.

  "He won't,"

  Clara whispered, her voice failing.

  "He is the Angel Prince...

  he is just... a little angry."

  With a final, desperate surge of her Space Core,

  Clara didn't attack.

  She used the last of her mana

  to open a tiny rift,

  pushing her sister into a separate dimension—

  not to torment her,

  but to hide her from the hell the slums had become.

  Clara turned back to Mitsuo,

  her vision blurring as she offered a faint, heartbreaking smile.

  "This... this isn't real, right?

  The Angel Prince could never do this.

  It’s impossible.

  Everything we talked about...

  you remember, right?"

  Robert’s laughter boomed from the shadows.

  "He remembers nothing, girl!

  He is exactly what he was always meant to be!"

  But as Clara's life light began to flicker out,

  the Philosopher’s Stone—

  still vibrating with residual energy—

  erupted with a blinding purple light.

  The beam didn't hit Mitsuo.

  It shot straight into Clara’s dying heart.

  [The Void Dimension: The River of Memories]

  Clara blinked.

  The smell of blood and the pressure on her throat were gone.

  She was standing by the riverbank where she used to play as a child,

  the water clear and the sun warm.

  She heard footsteps behind her.

  "Claire?"

  she asked, turning with hope.

  A figure approached.

  It had her sister’s face,

  but the expression was wrong.

  The eyes were a deep, hollow purple,

  and the smile was the same eerie, mocking grin

  she had seen on the ritual's scriptures.

  "I am not your sister,"

  the entity replied, its voice echoing like a thousand whispers.

  "I am World Organism 4."

  The "Land of Corruption" had found its host.

  Inside the shimmering river dimension,

  Clara and the entity wearing Claire’s face walked side-by-side.

  The water at their feet didn't ripple;

  it was a mirror of the past.

  "So, that’s what happened,"

  Claire said, her voice hollow and resonant.

  Clara offered a sad, knowing smile.

  "So, you’re here to save the 'Angel Prince'...

  no, to save Mitsuo, right?"

  The fake Claire nodded slowly.

  "What will happen to me?"

  Clara asked.

  The only answer she received

  was a heavy, eerie silence

  that spoke of total erasure.

  "I see,"

  Clara whispered, her gaze falling to the water.

  "Alright.

  I’m ready."

  "Are you sure?"

  the voice asked.

  "If you say yes,

  I will take over your body

  and engage with the Primordial.

  But the moment his mind is restored,

  I will depart.

  Your physical form is already failing.

  You will die the moment I leave."

  "I was already dying, wasn't I?"

  The entity gave a shallow nod.

  "Then, in exchange,

  can I ask for one thing?"

  Clara looked up, her eyes fierce.

  "Make sure Claire is protected."

  "I cannot make that promise,"

  the Organism replied coldly.

  "I will disintegrate back into the world’s laws

  once the contract is finished.

  But...

  I can place that request upon the Primordial."

  Clara took a deep breath.

  "Alright.

  I’ll trust you."

  The entity paused, its purple eyes narrowing.

  "Do you truly think he won't choose the dark path?

  I am only an observer;

  I can show him the door,

  but he is the one who must walk through it."

  "I believe in the Angel I saw

  the first day I met him,"

  Clara replied softly.

  "Then the transition begins now."

  [The Reality: The Slums]

  In the physical world,

  the "Black Wolf" Mitsuo

  still had his hand clamped around Clara’s throat.

  But suddenly, the girl’s limp body surged

  with a terrifying, cosmic power.

  She gripped Mitsuo’s wrist

  with a strength that rivaled his own

  and violently shoved him back.

  "No way!"

  Robert screamed from the sidelines.

  "A World Organism manifesting in the flesh?!

  This is an absolute violation of the balance!"

  The being possessing Clara

  turned its purple gaze toward him.

  "You violated the rules of the ritual first, Contractor.

  I am merely balancing the scales."

  In a blur of motion,

  the possessed Clara appeared before Robert.

  Before he could cast a single spell,

  she snatched the Philosopher’s Stone from his hand

  and unleashed a shockwave of pure energy

  that blasted him through a nearby brick wall.

  She turned back to the Primordial.

  Mitsuo, lost in his dark stars,

  lunged forward with a lethal Aura Slash.

  The entity dodged the strike

  with a grace that defied physics,

  sliding beneath his guard.

  She reached out, pressing the glowing Philosopher’s Stone

  firmly against Mitsuo’s forehead.

  "I fulfill my contract,"

  she whispered.

  The blue fire and the purple mist vanished.

  Once again, the world tilted,

  and Mitsuo was dragged back

  into the dimensional void of his own mind.

  To be continued...

  ? MYukH. All rights reserved