The man stepped into the light, his black hair falling loosely over his face, golden eyes glinting like burning embers. His presence warped the air itself, heavy and suffocating.

Sarah inclined her head slightly, her voice carrying calm authority.

"Welcome, Cain."

Cain stretched his arms lazily, joints cracking, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"Sarah… it's been far too long. But tell me, why greet me looking like a panel? If you had come in your human form, I would've gladly drowned in your beauty instead."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "It seems you haven't changed, Cain. Still the same smooth tongue. But I'm not here for flattery. Lord Azreal has summoned you."

Cain's smirk deepened. "Oh? What's the matter?"

"A case has been assigned to Lord Azreal in the world of the living," Sarah replied firmly. "He has chosen not to bring the Pillars. Instead… he has chosen your team."

Cain's golden eyes sharpened, excitement sparking within them.

"So… The Six are finally back in the game, huh?" He chuckled darkly, brushing his hair back. "Well, if it's a reunion, I'd better look sharp."

Sarah turned as if to leave. "Then do that. I'll summon the others."

Cain's voice cut through the air. "Wait, Sarah. Don't blink out on me yet."

She paused, expression cool. "What is it?"

Cain's grin widened into something more dangerous.

"I heard once you made yourself a human body and sparked a revolution in Hell. My, my… I never thought you had such fire. You have my praise."

Sarah's tone grew sharper. "That was because I was corrupted by Y'tharion's mark."

Cain tilted his head, eyes glinting. "Yes, I heard about that. Which makes me wonder… if the mark of corruption can influence you, then what about my powers? Could I touch that purity of yours… twist it?"

Sarah's gaze hardened. "What are you trying to do, Cain?"

Before she could react, Cain blurred, appearing directly in front of the panel that was her form. His hand reached out, golden eyes locked on her like a predator ready to strike.

But Sarah blinked out of existence, reappearing further back in the shadows.

Cain chuckled, lowering his hand. "Still as distant as ever, Sarah."

"Don't think you'll ever lay your hands on me so easily, Cain," she shot back coldly.

He smirked, conceding with a nod. "I agree. Still, you'd better hurry and summon the others. Not that I mind if you stay here, of course. This place is lonely without a beauty to keep me company."

Ignoring his provocation, Sarah opened a swirling portal of shadows.

"Enter this portal. It leads to the Royal Palace."

She vanished in a blink, leaving only her lingering presence.

Cain let out a low laugh. "I'll take that as a no, then." His eyes glowed with a predator's excitement as he gazed into the portal. "So… the Six are back. I've been locked away in the Crucible for far too long with the others. Let's see if I've gone rusty."

He straightened his clothes, rolled his shoulders, and stepped into the portal. With a hiss, it snapped shut behind him.

---

Second Gate of Hell

Knock. Knock.

"Hey, Aria. Are you in?"

Aria's voice answered from inside. "Yes—"

The door opened before she could finish. Veymar stepped in, his aura commanding as always.

Aria frowned. "I didn't say you could come in yet."

Veymar shrugged casually. "Didn't need to. This is my place. I can enter wherever I like."

"Then why bother knocking in the first place?" she pressed.

"I knocked to check if you were inside. If you weren't, I'd have left. Saves me from walking in on an empty room." His eyes shifted, landing on the small floating figure beside her. A rare smile tugged at his lips. "Arian. So you've taken on a baby form now? I must say—it really suits you."

"Thank you, Lord Veymar," Arian replied politely.

Aria tilted her head. "So… is it time for training? Is that why you're here?"

"I wish," Veymar admitted, voice edged with disappointment. "I was looking forward to our next battle. But no—that's not why I came."

Aria's brows knit together. "Then why are you here?"

"To inform you that Lord Azreal will soon be leaving for the world of the living."

Aria blinked, stunned. "Azreal… is leaving Hell?"

"Yes. And he told me to tell you this—you're tagging along."

Her eyes widened. "I… I'll be going to the world of the living?"

"That's right. Prepare yourself. Once you return, you'll come straight back here." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Aria called after him. "Are you tagging along with us too?"

Veymar paused at the doorway, his back to her. His voice was calm. "No. None of the Pillars are. Instead… another group will accompany Lord Azreal. You can call them The Six."

"The Six?" Aria repeated, curiosity flaring. "Who are they?"

"You'll know when you arrive at the Royal Palace." Without another word, he walked out and shut the door behind him.

Aria turned to Arian, her mind racing. "Do you have any idea why we're going to the world of the living?"

Arian shook his head. "No. Lord Azreal hasn't told me anything."

"So you're just as clueless as I am." She exhaled, then smiled faintly. "Well, at least I get to leave Hell for a while. That alone makes it worth it." She paused, her expression darkening. "But why didn't Azreal tell me himself when we were at the palace?"

"Maybe he was still deciding whether to bring you along," Arian suggested.

"True," Aria murmured. Then her thoughts circled back. "But this group… The Six. Who are they really?"

Arian's tone grew serious. "They're Hell's warriors. Extremely powerful. You could say they're second only to the Pillars."

Aria frowned. "Then why haven't I heard of them? Where do they stay?"

"In the Crucible," Arian said simply.

Her eyes widened. "The Crucible? I've never even heard of that place."

"The Crucible is a towering structure. Six layers. Each layer belongs to a member of The Six." His voice lowered. "But hear me, Aria—there is one among them you must avoid at all costs."

Aria leaned in, curiosity burning. "Avoid? Why? Who is he?"

"He's the most dangerous of them all. The first member of The Six. He dwells in the third layer."

Her brow furrowed. "And why is he so dangerous?"

Arian's expression grew grim. "Don't ask questions. Just stay away from him."

Aria swallowed hard, but then forced a smile. "Alright then. Still… I'm already anxious. Let's just head to the Royal Palace."

She closed the door behind her, Arian floating silently at her side as they set out.

---

The Crucible — Fourth Layer

The dim glow of a single light bulb flickered in the stale, smoke-choked room. Shadows clung to the cracked walls, dancing every time the flame of the cigarette in his mouth burned a little brighter.

A young man stood still, his back straight, his gaze fixed. His black hair fell lazily over his forehead, obscuring part of his sharp, tired eyes. In his hand, a dart rested loosely, balanced between two fingers. He raised it, exhaled a ribbon of smoke, and with a sharp flick—

Thud.

The dart struck dead-center on the board nailed to the wall. A perfect throw.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips and let the smoke curl through the air. A moment later, a voice broke the silence.

"It seems you haven't changed."

The man didn't flinch. His lips curled into something between amusement and irritation as he slowly turned around. Floating in the airwas Sarah.

His black hair shifted slightly as he tilted his head. "Changed about what, Sarah?" His voice carried no urgency, no warmth. Just a steady, cool detachment.

Sarah's gaze fell to the cigarette glowing between his fingers. "You still haven't quit smoking, Eric."

The ember flared as Eric drew in another breath. He exhaled, and smoke hissed out in a pale stream, momentarily veiling his face.

"What can I say?" His tone was lazy, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's a bad habit."

---

At the Royal Palace

Silence reigned in the grand throne room, heavy and suffocating, like the air itself bent beneath the weight of power. Torches lined the black stone walls, their flames bowing in submission as if they too feared the man seated at the center.

Azreal.

He sat upon his throne, posture regal but relaxed, one hand resting against the armrest as the last embers of conversation faded. Before him, Hulk bowed respectfully before vanishing in a violent burst of crimson flame, leaving only charred air in his wake.

For a moment, nothing stirred. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then Azreal's voice cut through the stillness, calm and commanding.

"When do you intend to stop hiding in the shadows?"

The silence shattered.

From the throne's elongated shadow, darkness rippled and twisted unnaturally, as though the very floor had been peeled open. A figure began to rise, his form pulling free from the void like a nightmare made flesh.

White hair spilled over his forehead, catching the dim light. One eye gleamed a deep, predatory red, while the other burned with an eerie, unnatural blue. His presence reeked of quiet malice, like a knife brushing against bare skin.

He wore a long, high-collared black coat embroidered with silver patterns that glinted faintly, immaculate white gloves, and boots polished to perfection—an elegance that only deepened the menace around him.

Azreal didn't bother to turn his head. He didn't need to. He already knew who had come.

"Jack… the Ripper."

The man bowed his head slightly, his expression unreadable, his voice calm and razor-sharp as it echoed across the vast chamber.

"It's been a while… Lord Azreal."

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