The sea glitters under a sinking sun, emerald waves breaking against white stone cliffs. A palace rests above the waters, gilded walls gleaming with unnatural light.

Inside its highest chamber, a mirror ripples to life. The images of the wetlands fade—the boy, Jacob Cloud, still breathing where he should not. Azrakel, the Infernal Prince, gone. Asmodeus's intrusion broken.

The man in silken robes does not move for a long time. His jeweled fingers rest against his chin. His eyes are fixed on the boy's silhouette even as the mirror cracks apart and turns to dust.

Behind him, ten figures kneel.

The Dark Champions. Survivors chosen from slaughter, shaped into weapons sharper than any noble-born. Each one stronger than the Generation of Legends, each one marked by trials no Academy would ever sanction.

The silence stretches until the man exhales, his voice calm but iron beneath the velvet.

"Azrakel failed. Our Lord graced the world with his projection and still, the boy lives."

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One of the kneeling Champions raises his head, crimson eyes glinting. "Master, shall we move? Give us leave, and we will erase this Jacob Cloud before his Karma thickens further."

The master shakes his head slowly. "No. Not yet. Fate already stirred when Azrakel fell. If I hurl you at them now, I invite Karmic Conflict. And that… I will not risk."

Another Champion, tall and scarred, clenches his fists. "We wait again? For how long must the strongest sit in the shadows while pretenders breathe?"

The man in robes turns at last, his gaze sweeping over all ten. Each lowers their head at once, silence returning.

"You are the True Champions," he says. "You are the ones who deserve glory for their hardships, for their feats. You help liberate people from their chains. You will free the slaves that inhabit this world and slay their masters. The System holds them up as 'Legends.' But you… you are the truth beneath the mask. The day will come when I send you to tear that mask away. When I do, there will be no retreat, no balance left to protect them. Only slaughter."

The Champions answer as one.

"We will liberate the world."

The master smiles faintly and looks again toward the window, where the horizon swallows the sun.

"Rest, my Champions. The weave of Karma cannot shield the boy forever. When the moment comes, we will sever the thread."

The room falls silent save for the distant crash of the sea. The ten kneel in shadows, waiting.

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