《Life After Death》


 Chapter 1-A Death Without Dying

    Tell me, have you ever wondered what it feels like to die? For me, it was surprisingly painless, almost serene in its finality. But don¡¯t mistake that for an endorsement¡ªwhat comes afterward defines hell.


    The day was December 18th, 20XX. School had just been let out for Christmas break, and Mango Summit High hummed with festive chaos. This sprawling high school drew students from nearby small towns like Applecrest and Citrus Hollow, creating a melting pot of youthful exuberance¡ªor bitterness, depending on where you stood. Outside, the crisp winter air carried the sound of jubilant carolers, their harmonized voices cutting through the chill like knives wrapped in velvet.


    ¡°It¡¯s the most wonderful time of the year¡­¡± they sang. Their cheerful refrain bounced off the walls, echoing through the tiled hallways like ghosts of a warmth Arthur had long forgotten.


    Inside, Arthur trudged through the dimly lit corridors, the fluorescent lights flickering faintly overhead. The festive decorations felt like a cruel joke. Twinkling fairy lights lined the lockers, their soft golden glow casting halos on the polished floors. Paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, swaying gently, as though mocking his every step.


    As he approached the staircase, a memory seized him.


    A boot to his ribs.


    Laughter like shards of glass.


    The rancid stench of spoiled milk poured over his head.


    The sharp snap of his leg twisting unnaturally.


    And their faces¡ªsmiling, jeering¡ªblurred now into nameless specters.


    The incident had been swept neatly under the rug, like so much dirt in a school too busy celebrating to notice the decay beneath.


    He placed a foot on the first step, the wood creaking beneath his weight. The faint notes of the carolers drifted in from a nearby classroom.


    ¡°With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, ''Be of good cheer!''¡±


    The irony clawed at him. His heart beat a solemn rhythm against the song¡¯s jubilant tempo, each thud pounding the cruel chorus deeper into his thoughts. He climbed further, his breathing shallow, his gaze fixed on the dim glow spilling from the rooftop access door above.


    ¡°It¡¯s the hap-happiest season of all¡­¡±


    Another memory sliced through him like a dagger, a memory of his girlfriend, Emelia


    Her face¡ªpale, lifeless.


    Her stomach¡ªgutted, a macabre wound yawning open.


    Her blood¡ªsmearing the alley wall in crude letters: YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE.


    Arthur gripped the stair rail tighter, his knuckles pale and bloodless. Each step felt heavier than the last, his body dragging as if the weight of his memories had taken on a physical form. The carolers¡¯ voices echoed faintly from below, their saccharine cheer twisting into cruel mockery in his ears.


    The final flight of stairs stretched before him like a lifetime. Each creak of the old wood seemed to ask, Are you sure? Above, the faint hum of the rooftop door called to him, the air beyond promising cold, quiet absolution. Behind him, the carolers¡¯ song lingered, growing muffled as though the world were retreating from him.


    ¡°It¡¯s the most wonderful time of the year...¡±


    The words dissolved into the cool stillness of the rooftop as he pushed the door open, the icy wind biting at his skin.


    Another memory struck, sharp as a blade.


    His mother, crumpled on the floor, bruises blooming across her skin like dark flowers. Her left eye was swollen shut, her split lip trembling as she tried to speak. The broken beer bottle glinted in the corner, its jagged edge smeared with blood.


    A man lay sprawled near her, his face hauntingly familiar¡ªArthur¡¯s own features, but older, twisted in death. Blood seeped from the deep gash in his back, pooling beneath him like a spreading shadow.


    Arthur stood frozen in the doorway, a knife in his hand, its blade dripping red.


    The memory faded, leaving only the rooftop¡¯s desolate silence. Arthur stepped forward, the city sprawling below him in a sea of indifferent lights. The wind howled in his ears, carrying fragments of the song still rising from below.


    ¡°There¡¯ll be much mistletoeing, and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near¡­¡±


    The irony twisted like a knife in his chest. Loved ones. Glowing hearts. A bitter laugh choked in his throat. He could see the carolers clustered by the school¡¯s main doors, their faces alight with joy as they sang. Their final refrain rose into the night, almost drowning out the sound of his heartbeat.


    ¡°It¡¯s the most wonderful time of the year¡­¡±


    A tear slipped from Arthur¡¯s eye, the warmth of it quickly stolen by the cold wind. His vision blurred as he stared at the ground far below, the distance between him and the earth feeling less like a fall and more like a release.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± a voice whispered, cold and serpentine, brushing against his ear like a breath of frost. ¡°Are you really going to do it this time? You¡¯ve chickened out before.¡±


    Arthur flinched, his gaze darting to his wrist. The scars there were faint but undeniable, pale lines tracing the path of his despair. His throat tightened as he clenched his fists, the nails biting into his palms.


    The voice chuckled, low and mocking, as if it lived within the recesses of his own mind. ¡°Come on, Arthur. Nobody will notice. Nobody ever does.¡±


    Arthur didn¡¯t answer. He took another step forward, the cold edge of the roof biting into his soles. One more inch, and it would all be over. Below, the carolers swayed, their voices rising together in unison as they reached the crescendo of their song.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°It¡¯s the most wonderful time¡­ of the year!¡±


    The words echoed in his ears, a cruelly cheerful requiem. Tears blurred his vision as he teetered at the edge, the world¡¯s festive spirit swirling below, utterly oblivious to the boy who had been left behind.


    Then, Arthur stepped off the edge. The world tilted, the wind roared in his ears, and gravity pulled him into its cold embrace. As he plummeted, his memories surged like a twisted symphony, dissonant and relentless. Fragments of his life¡ªhis mother¡¯s bruised face, his girlfriend¡¯s lifeless body, the blood on his hands¡ªflashed before him, each one more vivid and gut-wrenching than the last. They spiraled around him, mocking, accusing, driving him deeper into the abyss.


    And yet... no one reacted.


    The carolers sang on, their cheerful voices oblivious to the boy falling through their midst. The civilians below shuffled along, lost in their own worlds, not sparing a glance upward. Even the ground refused to greet him, his body sinking into it like a stone dropped into water.


    Arthur clawed his way out, gasping for breath that no longer came. He rose shakily to his feet, only to freeze as he saw himself¡ªhis own body¡ªstill standing on the rooftop above.


    It was smiling.


    There was no mistaking it¡ªit was his body. The same unruly white hair that he had never managed to tame, now catching the rooftop¡¯s dim light like a ghostly halo. The same dull purple eyes, lifeless yet piercing, shadowed by deep, sleepless bags that seemed carved into his face. The same white school uniform, its crisp fabric marred by faint scuffs and the familiar Mango Summit emblem stitched over the chest.


    It stood there, impossibly still, gazing down at him. The expression on its face¡ªhis face¡ªsent a chill through Arthur¡¯s ghostly form. It wasn¡¯t his usual wearied look of quiet resignation. No, this face was different. It smiled. Not warmly, not kindly, but with an unsettling, knowing twist of the lips, as though mocking him from the very shell he had abandoned.


    His face, the one he had worn every day of his life, now twisted into a grin that sent chills through his ghostly form. The figure looked down at him, its gaze piercing, and when it spoke, the voice wasn¡¯t his own.


    ¡°Honestly, that took longer than I expected,¡± it said, the familiar, mocking tone of the voice that had haunted his mind for years now given form. ¡°I was wondering if today would be the day. I had my doubts, you know.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s translucent hands trembled. By instinct, he floated upward, his ghostly form propelled by something beyond his understanding. ¡°W-who are you?¡± he stammered, his voice quivering with fear.


    The figure tilted its head, the wicked grin never faltering. ¡°I¡¯m you¡ªor at least, now I am. You¡¯ve been generous enough to hand over your body, so I¡¯ve claimed it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Arthur breathed, his form flickering as panic gripped him. ¡°Why? How? Who are you really?¡±


    The figure¡ªhis body¡ªlaughed, a low, chilling sound that reverberated in the empty rooftop air. ¡°So many questions. Lucky for you, I never lie. Let¡¯s start with the how and why: I needed a body, and you didn¡¯t want yours anymore. The moment you relinquished your life, I seized it. Simple, really.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s ghostly fists clenched, though his attempts to steady himself only deepened his sense of helplessness. ¡°And your name?¡± he demanded, his voice rising in desperation.


    The grin widened, impossibly cruel. ¡°I am Veritas, the Archangel of Truth.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s form flickered, rage and despair clashing within him. ¡°Give it back! Give me back my body!¡± he roared, lunging forward. His hand passed through Veritas effortlessly, as though the archangel was a shadow, or perhaps it was Arthur who was no longer real.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Veritas taunted, his stolen voice dripping with mockery. ¡°You wanted to die, didn¡¯t you? You relinquished your claim to this body. You made it clear you had no use for it. So, I¡¯ve seized possession. Consider it¡­ repurposed.¡±


    Arthur stumbled back, his ghostly form shuddering as tears welled in his eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, but you did,¡± Veritas interrupted, his tone sharp and merciless. ¡°Every step off that ledge was a declaration. You don¡¯t get to take it back now.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s mind raced, grappling with the reality before him. His body, his voice, his very existence had been stolen. And the one who had taken it wore his face better than he ever could.


    Veritas stepped closer to the edge, looking down at the bustling world below, his grin fading into something colder, darker. ¡°Now, Arthur, watch closely. You may have abandoned your life, but I¡¯ve got plans for it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but let me take care of these unsightly wounds first,¡± Veritas said with a wicked smile. A soft, green light enveloped his body, radiating an unsettling warmth as it mended every injury, every scar. Within moments, his skin was flawless, as though the pain Arthur had endured for years had never existed. The glow faded, leaving only Veritas¡¯s smug grin behind.


    Arthur lunged again and again, his ghostly fists passing through Veritas as though he were striking smoke. The futility of his efforts only fueled the archangel¡¯s laughter, a sound that echoed cruelly against the empty rooftop.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± Veritas sneered, brushing past Arthur as though he were nothing more than a whisper in the wind. ¡°But since I¡¯m feeling generous, I¡¯ll leave you with a warning.¡± He paused at the edge of the roof, his form outlined against the last rays of the setting sun. ¡°When night falls, be wary of the Fallen. Their favorite meal is you¡ªworthless, wandering souls.¡±


    With that, Veritas stepped off the rooftop and disappeared into the twilight, leaving Arthur to crumble under the weight of his despair. He stared after him, trembling, his hands clenching uselessly at his sides.


    The horizon darkened unnaturally fast. For a ghost, night came differently¡ªhorrifically.


    The sky cleaved open as though torn by unseen hands, bleeding into a deep, pulsating crimson. The moon emerged, no longer a comforting beacon but a monstrous, unblinking eye that dominated the heavens. It stared down with malevolent intent, its gaze sending shivers through Arthur¡¯s incorporeal form. Blood began to rain, thick and warm, each drop carrying the metallic scent of despair.


    The living world remained oblivious to the horror. The carolers below continued their cheer, their joy undisturbed by the grotesque transformation above. But for the lost souls, the night was a different reality¡ªa predator¡¯s hunting ground.


    Arthur¡¯s attention snapped to the sky as something fell. Black feathers, drenched in the blood rain, drifted downward in unnatural spirals. Then came the bodies. They descended like grotesque meteors, landing with sickening thuds that shook the ghostly plane.


    One of them crashed mere feet from Arthur. It was colossal, the size of a school bus, its very presence radiating malice. Its flesh was gray and sickly, marred by gaping wounds that oozed golden ichor. The creature¡¯s head lacked eyes, but its elongated mouth split into eight jagged segments, revealing a whip-like tongue that writhed and lashed the air with grotesque hunger.


    Its hands ended in scythe-like claws, curved and serrated, twitching with anticipation. Its legs, grotesque imitations of a frog¡¯s, bent unnaturally as it began to rise. The wings on its back were not feathered but leathery husks stretched taut over bony frames, their edges frayed and torn.


    The creature sniffed the air, its segmented mouth trembling as it searched for the scent of its prey. Arthur could feel it¡ªits hunger, its intent. It wasn¡¯t hunting the living. It was hunting him.


    A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the beast as it turned its eyeless face toward him, its tongue snapping like a whip. Arthur stumbled back, his mind reeling. He was no longer just a ghost. He was prey.


    And the night had only begun.

 Chapter 2-Survival for the Dead

    Arthur froze in horror as he faced the grotesque beast before him. Its segmented mouth opened with a sickening crack, its whip-like tongue snapping in the air as it hungrily sought its prey. The only thought in his mind was run.


    Without hesitation, he turned and bolted. His legs carried him back to the rooftop¡¯s edge, and without thinking, he leaped off for a second time.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Ghosts can fly... right?¡± Arthur muttered to himself, his voice trembling. Panic surged as the wind rushed past him. ¡°Why am I not flying?¡±


    He hit the ground with a heavy thud, his body sprawled on the pavement. The pain he expected never came, but neither did the surreal sensation of phasing through the ground as he had before.


    Arthur scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off as dread took hold. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me... all those ghostly powers are useless during this hellish night.¡±


    The Fallen above sniffed the air, its head snapping toward him with an almost mechanical twitch. With a guttural growl, it leaped off the building, its heavy, malformed limbs crashing onto the pavement behind him.


    Arthur didn¡¯t wait for it to strike. He ran. His heart, though it no longer beat, felt like it might explode as he sprinted down the darkened street. He couldn¡¯t die. Not now. Not with that angel¡ªthat monster¡ªin possession of his body.


    The Fallen followed, its movements clunky and erratic. It barreled forward like a predator drunk on its own hunger, crashing into walls and buildings as it tried to follow Arthur¡¯s frantic turns.


    Arthur risked a glance over his shoulder and barked a nervous laugh. ¡°Blind and stupid. That thing¡¯s got nothing on me.¡±


    But even as he joked, his chest tightened. He wasn¡¯t sure where he was going¡ªonly that he had to keep moving. The blood rain soaked the ground, turning the streets into crimson mirrors that reflected the monstrous sky above.


    ¡°Hey, dummy! Over here!¡± a sharp voice cut through the chaos.


    Arthur¡¯s head snapped toward the sound. A girl stood at the end of an alley, her short purple hair gleaming under the unnatural light of the blood moon. Her vivid orange eyes locked on him, and she waved him over with urgency.


    ¡°Eliza?¡± Arthur shouted, disbelief mingling with hope as he dashed toward her, the Fallen roaring behind him.


    Eliza smirked, turning on her heel as she began to run. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I found you, idiot. Now move your ass!¡±


    Arthur didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He followed her, dodging debris and weaving through the chaotic streets as the Fallen thundered after them. Its blind rage and clumsy movements were the only things keeping them alive.


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain everything later,¡± Eliza shouted over her shoulder, her voice steady despite the chaos. ¡°Just keep up, Arthur!¡±


    For the first time since he had leaped off that rooftop, Arthur felt a flicker of hope. He wasn¡¯t alone¡ªnot entirely.


    ¡°Down here! It can¡¯t follow us!¡± Eliza shouted, her voice echoing through the night like a lifeline. She pointed to an open sewer grate, barely visible through the blood-soaked rain.


    Arthur hesitated for only a second before following her lead. Eliza vaulted into the darkness below with practiced ease, vanishing into the shadows. Arthur stumbled toward the grate, his pulse racing¡ªnot that it mattered anymore. He barely had time to brace himself as the Fallen¡¯s guttural roar thundered behind him.


    The moment his feet hit the ladder, a wet, slithering snap filled the air. The creature¡¯s whip-like tongue lashed toward him, slicing through the rain like a blade. Arthur flinched as it slammed into the ground inches from his head, the impact shaking the grate and sending shards of concrete scattering.


    ¡°Move!¡± Eliza¡¯s voice rang out from below.


    Arthur scrambled downward, his hands slipping on the cold, slimy rungs of the ladder. The Fallen snarled above, its segmented mouth snapping open with a sickening crack. Its tongue lashed again, striking the edge of the grate with terrifying force. Sparks erupted as metal bent under the impact, the sewer trembling around him.


    Arthur¡¯s foot slipped, and he nearly lost his grip. ¡°Damn it!¡± he hissed, clutching the ladder as his breath came in shallow gasps. The creature¡¯s tongue shot past him again, narrowly missing his shoulder and slamming into the sewer wall. Chunks of brick rained down, pelting him as he climbed lower.


    ¡°Eliza!¡± he yelled. ¡°It¡¯s still trying to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know!¡± she shouted from the ground. ¡°Just get down here, quick!¡±


    Arthur dropped the last few feet, his boots splashing into ankle-deep, murky water. He barely had time to catch his breath before the Fallen roared again, its tongue thrashing wildly at the opening above. The slick appendage smashed against the metal ladder, each strike bending them further inward. The sewer shook with every blow.


    The stench of the sewer hit Arthur like a wall, a rancid mix of decay and filth that made his stomach churn. He stumbled back, gagging, as Eliza grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the tunnel.


    ¡°Stay back!¡± she snapped. ¡°It¡¯s blind, but it can still smell us.¡±


    The Fallen above growled, its frustration echoing like a storm. Its tongue lashed one final time, stabbing through the grate and slamming into the ground where Arthur had just stood. The force sent a spray of foul water into the air, drenching them both. Arthur staggered, his heart pounding as the creature¡¯s tongue writhed mere inches from his feet.


    The Fallen let out a deafening screech, its frustration palpable. It slammed its claws against the edge of the grate, sending chunks of concrete raining down, but its massive frame prevented it from squeezing into the opening. The tunnel vibrated under its rage, but the creature remained trapped above.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Arthur leaned against the sewer wall, gasping for breath. ¡°It¡­ it can¡¯t get in, right?¡± he asked, his voice trembling.


    Eliza smirked grimly, wiping the water from her face. ¡°Not unless it shrinks a few sizes. But don¡¯t get comfortable¡ªit doesn¡¯t need to. If we don¡¯t move fast, it¡¯ll call for others.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s stomach dropped at the thought. He glanced back up at the grate, where the creature¡¯s grotesque mouth opened and closed, emitting an eerie, guttural clicking sound as it sniffed the air. Its tongue slithered back into the darkness, coiling like a serpent preparing to strike again.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Eliza said, her tone brooking no argument. She grabbed Arthur¡¯s wrist and tugged him further into the sewer. The dim light of the blood moon disappeared as they descended into the tunnel¡¯s oppressive darkness, the sound of the Fallen¡¯s enraged howls fading behind them.


    As they moved deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels, the suffocating darkness closed in around them. The faint echoes of dripping water and their own footsteps seemed to stretch endlessly, amplifying the oppressive silence. Arthur couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the nightmare wasn¡¯t over. No, this was just the beginning.


    Eliza¡¯s voice cut through the silence, sharp and blunt. ¡°So, tell me¡ªhow did you die? Or, to be exact, how did you kill yourself?¡±


    Arthur stumbled slightly at the question, caught off guard. ¡°W-what? How did you know?¡±


    She shot him a sidelong glance, her orange eyes glinting faintly in the dim light. ¡°You smell like mint. All of us who tried to end it, only to have those angelic bastards steal our bodies, smell like it. A few normal ghosts are hiding down here, but you¡¯re definitely not one of them.¡±


    Arthur swallowed hard, glancing down at his feet as they sloshed through the murky water. ¡°I¡­ I jumped off the school roof,¡± he said quietly, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.


    Eliza let out a dry, sad laugh. ¡°That¡¯s brutal. You would¡¯ve scarred all those carolers for life. Then again, my method wasn¡¯t much better.¡±


    Arthur hesitated, then asked cautiously, ¡°How long¡­ I mean, how long have you been like this? I didn¡¯t even notice you¡¯d been replaced.¡±


    ¡°Two weeks,¡± Eliza said, her tone flat. ¡°Not surprised you didn¡¯t notice¡ªno one else did. Not my parents, not my friends. Why would some random guy I barely know?¡±


    Arthur flinched at her bluntness but pressed on. ¡°How did you remember my name, then? I doubt even the guys who used me as a punching bag remember it.¡±


    Eliza glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. ¡°We did that group project together a few weeks ago, remember? All my friends felt bad I got stuck with you. Joke¡¯s on them¡ªyou actually pulled your weight. That A brought my mediocre grade up nicely.¡±


    Arthur gave a small, self-conscious laugh. ¡°You weren¡¯t so bad yourself.¡±


    They fell into a brief, uneasy silence, broken only by the sound of their footsteps splashing through the filthy water. Finally, Eliza spoke again, her voice tinged with anger. ¡°So, which of the Ten Commandments got you? Mine called themselves Devotiel, the Archangel of Worship.¡±


    Arthur frowned. ¡°He said his name was Veritas, the Archangel of Truth. What are the Ten Commandments, anyway?¡±


    Eliza¡¯s expression darkened, her fists clenching at her sides. ¡°A bunch of angelic assholes. They go around convincing people to kill themselves so they can steal their bodies. Apparently, they even mess with people¡¯s lives¡ªstirring up tragedies, making things worse¡ªjust to push us over the edge. Real saints, huh?¡±


    Arthur¡¯s chest tightened as Veritas¡¯s mocking grin flashed through his mind, the angel¡¯s cruel words echoing like a curse. ¡°Aren¡¯t angels supposed to be kind and loving?¡± he asked softly, his voice trembling with disbelief.


    Eliza let out a hollow laugh, the sound bouncing off the tunnel walls with a bitterness that cut deeper than the cold air. ¡°You¡¯d think so, wouldn¡¯t you? But nope. They¡¯re worse than devils¡ªmore depraved, more manipulative. At least devils don¡¯t pretend to be something they¡¯re not.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Are demons real too?¡±


    Eliza sighed, her footsteps splashing softly through the murky water. ¡°Not in the way you¡¯d imagine. No horns, no fiery pits. But these ¡®angels¡¯... they¡¯re not the traditional kind either. They come from somewhere called the Abyss. A whole other world. Lucky for us, that¡¯s a problem for the living.¡± She paused, glancing back at him. ¡°Down here, the only thing we have to worry about are the Fallen.¡±


    Arthur shivered at the memory of the monstrous creature that had hunted him. ¡°How many of us are there?¡±


    Eliza held up her hand, ticking off on her fingers. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ including you and me? Five. One other guy who had his body stolen by an angel¡ªhe¡¯s a bit of a nutcase, but most of what he says checks out. Then there are two lost souls¡ªboth girls. You¡¯ll know one of them.¡±


    Arthur stopped in his tracks, staring at her in shock. His heart¡ªor whatever ghostly imitation of it he had¡ªsank. ¡°Who?¡±


    Eliza didn¡¯t answer directly, her expression softening just slightly. ¡°You¡¯ll see soon enough,¡± she said, leading him further into the dark.


    They eventually reached a rusted metal door tucked away in the sewer¡¯s labyrinthine depths. Eliza pushed it open, revealing a surprisingly cozy hideout hidden in the belly of the city.


    ¡°Hey, guys!¡± she called out. ¡°I brought us a new friend. He¡¯s just like me and the nutcase upstairs.¡±


    Arthur stepped inside, his eyes widening. The room was small but welcoming, a strange juxtaposition against the grim reality outside. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with manga and novels. A battered TV sat on a rickety stand, hooked up to a collection of gaming consoles that looked like they had been salvaged from the living world. The faint hum of electricity filled the air, though Arthur couldn¡¯t fathom where the power came from. Small bedrooms branched off from the main area¡ªpersonal spaces for people who didn¡¯t need to sleep but still craved a semblance of normalcy.


    The first person Arthur noticed was a man leaning against the wall, engrossed in a webnovel on his phone titled Cycle of Fate. He looked to be in his late forties, his violet eyes shadowed by deep, tired bags. His black hair was streaked with white at the tips, and a neatly trimmed stubble lined his jaw. He wore a black suit and red tie, an outfit that gave him an air of someone who had once been meticulous and professional. Now, he carried the same faint minty scent that clung to Eliza¡ªa mark of the stolen.


    The second figure was a young woman lounging on a couch, a manga open in her lap. She looked to be in her late twenties, with orange hair tied into a loose ponytail. Small freckles dotted her cheeks, and square glasses perched on her nose, framing hazel eyes that flicked back and forth across the pages. She wore a flowing orange sundress that seemed out of place in the sewer¡¯s gloom, but the warmth of her presence softened the sharp edges of the room.


    Arthur¡¯s breath caught when his gaze landed on the last figure. His heart¡ªor whatever semblance of it remained¡ªached as recognition slammed into him like a freight train.


    She wore the same school uniform as him and Eliza, her brunette hair long and braided neatly over one shoulder. Her blue eyes were an ocean of conflicting emotions¡ªsadness, longing, and a flicker of joy that ignited when they met his.


    ¡°Emelia,¡± Arthur whispered.


    Before he could say another word, she crossed the room in a blur, throwing her arms around him. He froze for a moment, stunned, before his own arms wrapped around her. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks as he clung to her, his voice cracking as he murmured her name over and over.


    Her voice was soft, trembling with emotion. ¡°Arthur¡­ I¡¯ve missed you so much.¡±


    Eliza stood off to the side, watching silently. For once, she said nothing, giving them this moment of reunion amidst the chaos of their new reality.

 Chapter 3-The Dead Who Want to Live

    Arthur held Emelia tightly, the weight of their reunion grounding him in a reality that still felt surreal. The chaos and horror of the past few hours faded into the background for a brief moment. But the calm was shattered when the man Eliza had called a nutcase looked up from his phone, his violet eyes narrowing as he reached for a metal bat lying on the floor.


    Without warning, he swung the bat with surprising force¡ªstraight at Arthur¡¯s head. Arthur flinched, bracing for the impact that never came. The bat passed harmlessly through his head, leaving him stunned and furious.


    ¡°What the hell was that for?!¡± Arthur yelled, his voice echoing through the small hideout.


    The man rested the bat on his shoulder, his expression calm but intense. ¡°Here¡¯s a fun fact,¡± he said, his tone matter-of-fact but laced with authority. ¡°Nothing can harm you now. Except for the Fallen. So here¡¯s the rule: never go out at night. Night starts at exactly 6:06 PM. After the six seconds pass, if you¡¯re not back here at least thirty minutes before that, you¡¯re on your own. Got it?¡±


    Arthur blinked, still reeling from the unprovoked attack. ¡°That¡¯s your idea of a welcome? A bat to the face?¡±


    Eliza sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s Hugo for you. Batshit crazy¡ªpun intended. He swung that same bat at all of us when we showed up. Don¡¯t take it personally. He¡¯s also the one who got this place built, so we tolerate his¡­ quirks.¡±


    Hugo shot her a glare. ¡°I¡¯m being serious, Eliza. The Fallen get stronger the more they eat. And if you¡¯re out there after nightfall, you¡¯re as good as dead. You remember what happened to Kyle?¡±


    Eliza grimaced but shrugged. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it. It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Hugo¡¯s gaze lingered on her for a moment before softening slightly. ¡°Good.¡±


    Meanwhile, Emelia pulled back slightly from Arthur, her expression conflicted. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ good to see you again,¡± she said softly, her voice trembling. ¡°Though¡­ I wish it hadn¡¯t come to this.¡±


    Arthur didn¡¯t respond with words. Instead, he hugged her tighter, afraid she might vanish if he let go.


    The sound of a couch creaking broke the moment. ¡°Hey, boss,¡± Roxanne called out lazily from her spot. ¡°Are we doing dinner tonight?¡±


    Hugo turned to her with a deadpan expression. ¡°You do realize we¡¯re dead, right? We don¡¯t need to eat.¡±


    Roxanne waved him off, a playful pout on her lips. ¡°Yeah, but food still tastes good. What else are we supposed to do down here? It¡¯s not like we have a ton of options for entertainment.¡±


    Eliza smirked. ¡°That slacker is Roxanne,¡± she said to Arthur, jerking a thumb toward the lounging woman. ¡°She¡¯s basically a leech. She mooches off Hugo¡¯s connections for luxuries. Not that I¡¯m complaining¡ªthe games she got him to bring in are pretty decent.¡±


    Roxanne sat up, her ponytail swishing as she glared at Eliza. ¡°Oh, shut up. I¡¯m not a slacker! I was very productive in my life, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? You never tell us what you did when you were alive,¡± Eliza teased.


    Roxanne opened her mouth to retort, but Hugo cut in sharply. ¡°You two, knock it off. Lovebirds¡±¡ªhe pointed the bat at Arthur and Emelia¡ª¡°come help me cook dinner.¡±


    Emelia¡¯s face brightened instantly, her earlier sorrow replaced with a cheerful smile. ¡°Alright, boss! It¡¯s been a while since I got to cook with Arthur.¡±


    Arthur hesitated, glancing at her before nodding slowly. Despite everything, the idea of doing something normal¡ªeven in the most abnormal of circumstances¡ªfelt like a small comfort.


    Arthur felt the barest flicker of something he couldn¡¯t quite place. Maybe it was hope. Or maybe it was just the absurdity of the dead trying to live.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± Hugo said, pulling a chef¡¯s knife from a drawer and testing its edge with his thumb. ¡°If there¡¯s anything you want down here, let me know. I¡¯ve got a few connections from my old job¡ªpeople who can see the dead. They¡¯ll bring us supplies if we need them.¡±


    Arthur raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as he watched Hugo with mild disbelief. ¡°This whole situation is too absurd. Just too much has happened in the last hour.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it,¡± Emelia said softly, nudging him with her shoulder. Her smile was gentle, warm¡ªa flicker of comfort in the chaos. ¡°And I¡¯ll be with you the whole way.¡±


    Arthur let out a breath, the tension in his chest loosening slightly. ¡°Thanks,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°Hey, slacker,¡± Hugo called over his shoulder to Roxanne, who was sprawled on the couch. ¡°We¡¯ve got leftover rice. You good with stir-fry?¡±


    Roxanne sat up, her freckled face lighting up. ¡°Perfect! Everything you make tastes amazing, boss.¡±


    Eliza chimed in from across the room. ¡°Hey, boss, since we¡¯ve got a new friend, how about we bring out the alcohol?¡±


    Hugo shot her a sharp look. ¡°I don¡¯t care that we¡¯re dead¡ªI¡¯m not serving drinks to minors. And Roxanne gets way too flirty when she¡¯s drunk. I¡¯m not dealing with that mess tonight.¡±


    Roxanne huffed in mock indignation. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly charming when I¡¯ve had a few,¡± she said with a smirk.


    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Eliza teased, grinning. ¡°Charming like a hurricane.¡±


    Arthur chuckled, the absurdity of the situation easing some of the weight in his chest. For the first time since he¡¯d become a ghost, he felt a flicker of normalcy¡ªor at least, something close to it.


    ¡°Alright, Arthur, you¡¯re on vegetable duty,¡± Hugo said, tossing him a cutting board and a handful of bell peppers, onions, and carrots. ¡°Emelia, you¡¯re on protein. We¡¯ve got some chicken in the fridge¡ªcut it into bite-sized pieces.¡±


    Arthur caught the board, fumbling slightly before setting it on the counter. ¡°Got it. Anything special with these?¡± he asked, picking up a bell pepper.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Julienne them,¡± Hugo replied. ¡°Thin strips. And don¡¯t butcher it¡ªclean cuts.¡±


    Arthur gave him a mock salute. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    The kitchen quickly filled with the rhythmic sound of knives chopping against wooden boards. Emelia worked deftly, slicing the chicken into uniform pieces while humming a soft tune. Arthur, though slower, found the repetitive motion soothing. For a moment, he forgot about the Fallen, Veritas, and even the blood-red sky outside.


    Hugo moved with practiced efficiency, his knife gliding effortlessly through a bunch of scallions. He grabbed a wok and set it on the stovetop, flicking on the flame. The faint sizzle of oil followed as he tilted the pan to coat the surface evenly.


    ¡°Alright, Arthur, veggies over here,¡± Hugo said, motioning with a spatula. Arthur carried the cutting board over, carefully sliding the colorful array of peppers, onions, and carrots into the wok. The vegetables hit the oil with a loud sizzle, releasing a savory aroma that filled the small hideout.


    ¡°Smells amazing already,¡± Roxanne said, leaning over the back of the couch to sniff the air.


    Hugo added the chicken, stirring it with quick, precise movements. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there gawking, Eliza. Grab the soy sauce and oyster sauce from the pantry. And some garlic while you¡¯re at it.¡±


    Eliza rolled her eyes but complied, tossing the bottles onto the counter. Hugo added them with a flourish, the sauces bubbling and coating the ingredients in a rich glaze. The steam rose, carrying a mouthwatering scent that made Arthur¡¯s stomach growl¡ªeven though he wasn¡¯t sure ghosts could get hungry.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re almost done,¡± Hugo said, tossing in the leftover rice. He stirred it vigorously, each grain soaking up the savory mix of flavors. ¡°Arthur, grab the plates. Emelia, help him serve.¡±


    Within minutes, the stir-fry was portioned onto five plates, the vibrant colors of the dish making it look almost too good to eat. The group gathered around a small, makeshift dining table, each person taking their usual seat.


    Arthur glanced at the scene, the absurdity of it making him laugh softly. Here they were¡ªghosts, dead and forgotten¡ªsitting together for a family-style meal in the depths of a sewer.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Emelia asked, her blue eyes curious.


    Arthur shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. ¡°Nothing. Just¡­ this is the weirdest dinner I¡¯ve ever had. But also, maybe the best.¡±


    As the group dug into their plates, laughter and light conversation filled the room. The horrors of the outside world¡ªthe blood rain, the monstrous Fallen, the manipulative angels¡ªfelt distant, replaced by the simple joy of sharing a meal. For a moment, they weren¡¯t ghosts navigating a nightmarish afterlife; they were just people, enjoying each other¡¯s company.


    Arthur looked down at his plate, frowning slightly as a thought crossed his mind. ¡°If we don¡¯t need to eat, where does the food go?¡±


    Eliza shrugged, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. ¡°No clue. We don¡¯t need to go to the bathroom either, which is a blessing, I guess. But somehow, we can still get drunk.¡± She paused, smirking as she twirled her fork. ¡°Ghost logic is weird.¡±


    Hugo leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of what he had emphatically claimed was grape juice. ¡°Well,¡± he said, raising his glass, ¡°let¡¯s get to the fun part. Since we¡¯ve got a newcomer, how about we all share how we died?¡±


    The room fell into an awkward silence as the group exchanged uneasy glances. Nobody seemed eager to go first.


    Hugo sighed dramatically, setting his glass down with a thud. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll start¡ªfor the newcomer¡¯s sake.¡± He leaned forward, his tone taking on the air of a storyteller. ¡°It¡¯s an interesting tale, really. There I was, deep in a forest in Guyana, facing down a horrid monster. Its body was made entirely of maggots, squirming and writhing with every movement. My team¡ªgood people, every one of them¡ªhad already been slaughtered. That thing, the Boogeyman, loved filling us with fear. It thrived on it.¡±


    The group leaned in slightly, intrigued despite themselves. Arthur could feel the tension in the room rising.


    Hugo continued, his voice lowering. ¡°I knew I couldn¡¯t escape. So, I thought, if I had to die, I¡¯d do it on my own terms. I put my gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Only¡­¡± He gestured dramatically. ¡°My soul left my body, and that angelic bastard swooped in and stole it. His name was Adoriel, the Archangel of Reverence. A pompous name for a pompous thief.¡±


    Hugo took a long sip of his drink before finishing. ¡°At least I got to see the Boogeyman tear Adoriel¡¯s arm clean off. Shame he managed to survive, though.¡±


    Arthur blinked, processing the wild tale. ¡°How much of that is actually true?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Besides the angel stealing his body? Probably not an ounce,¡± Eliza deadpanned, her tone dripping with skepticism.


    Roxanne tilted her head, looking thoughtful. ¡°I think he¡¯s telling the truth. Why would he lie about something like that?¡±


    Eliza giggled. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s hiding some super sketchy secret. For all we know, he wasn¡¯t even in Guyana.¡±


    Emelia stifled a laugh, joining in. ¡°Yeah, Hugo. Admit it¡ªyou¡¯re covering up an embarrassing death.¡±


    Hugo placed a hand dramatically over his heart, as if deeply offended. ¡°I swear on my life¡ªwell, my afterlife¡ªthat I¡¯m telling the truth. I was a government agent, part of a classified organization that hunted supernatural threats. I wouldn¡¯t lie about this!¡±


    Eliza smirked, leaning back in her chair with a lazy grin. ¡°Sure, boss. Whatever you say.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re all so mean,¡± Hugo grumbled, dramatically crossing his arms before pointing at Roxanne with his fork. ¡°Whatever. Roxanne, you¡¯re up next.¡±


    Roxanne rolled her eyes but set her plate down, leaning forward with a sly grin. ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll go. But I¡¯m warning you¡ªmy death is super embarrassing.¡±


    Eliza raised an eyebrow. ¡°Can¡¯t wait to hear this train wreck.¡±


    Roxanne ignored her, diving into her story with gusto. ¡°So, one night I got really drunk¡ªlike, completely wasted. I was stumbling back to my apartment when I ran into this guy. Super hot. Was his name Markus? Or maybe Miles? Doesn¡¯t matter. Anyway, I decided to shoot my shot and asked him out.¡±


    Arthur blinked. ¡°You asked out a random guy on the street?¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Roxanne said with a smirk. ¡°But he turned me down! Said something about being too busy with work for a relationship. So, naturally, I asked out his brother standing next to him.¡±


    ¡°His brother?¡± Emelia said, stifling a laugh. ¡°You just¡­ moved on to the brother?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Roxanne replied without hesitation. ¡°And let me tell you, the brother was even hotter. His name was Warren. Or maybe Wallace? Ugh, names are so hard to remember. Anyway, he turned me down too.¡±


    Eliza rubbed her temples. ¡°Where is this story going, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± Roxanne said, waving her hand. ¡°So, after getting rejected by both hot brothers, I stumbled my way back to my apartment. But¡­ well, I was still very drunk and completely misjudged the stairs. I tripped, fell down the whole flight, and boom, instant death.¡±


    Arthur couldn¡¯t hold back a chuckle. ¡°You seem way more interested in the two guys you met than the fact you, y¡¯know, died.¡±


    Roxanne leaned back with a laugh, shrugging. ¡°If you¡¯d seen them, you¡¯d understand. They were gorgeous. Anyway, that was a year ago. Been dead ever since.¡±


    Eliza snorted, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re something else.¡±


    Roxanne grinned, clearly unbothered. ¡°Thanks, I try.¡±


    Hugo drained the last of his drink and set the glass down with a sigh. ¡°Alright, who¡¯s next?¡± His gaze swept over the table, but the remaining three fell silent, their expressions hesitant and guarded.


    Arthur shifted in his seat, glancing at Emelia, who avoided his gaze. Eliza fiddled with her fork, her usual smirk replaced by a distant look. The moment hung heavy, the air thick with unspoken stories.


    ¡°Guess not everyone¡¯s ready yet,¡± Hugo muttered, his tone softer than usual. ¡°Fair enough. Take your time.¡±


    The room fell quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV in the background. Despite the lingering silence, the bonds between them felt a little stronger, the weight of their shared afterlife a little lighter. For Arthur, it was enough to make the strange, surreal world feel just a bit more bearable.

 Chapter 4-Storm After the Calm

    ¡°Come on, Arthur,¡± Eliza said, leaning back in her chair with a sly grin. ¡°How about you go next? You already told me everything anyway.¡±


    Arthur shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. ¡°Yeah, but that was different. I¡¯m¡­ not ready now.¡± His eyes flickered toward Emelia, his reluctance written across his face.


    Eliza sighed, dramatically throwing her hands up. ¡°Fine, fine. What about you, Emelia? Everyone saw the report on the news anyway.¡±


    The room fell silent as Emelia turned to glare at her. Without hesitation, she kicked Eliza in the shin. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet room.


    ¡°What the hell was that for?¡± Eliza exclaimed, rubbing her leg out of instinct. ¡°We can¡¯t even feel pain!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being rude,¡± Emelia said, pouting as she crossed her arms.


    Arthur¡¯s gaze narrowed, his earlier hesitation replaced by a sharp edge. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go, Eliza? You were so blunt about asking me earlier.¡±


    Eliza froze for a moment, then let out a forced yawn, stretching her arms dramatically. ¡°You know what? Forget I said anything. I¡¯m tired. I¡¯m heading off to bed.¡±


    Arthur raised an eyebrow, incredulous. ¡°Wait, we don¡¯t even get tired¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªand she¡¯s gone,¡± Emelia finished, sighing as they watched Eliza retreat into her room without looking back.


    Hugo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I figured this would happen. She¡¯s not ready to talk about it. Won¡¯t even open up to herself about why it happened.¡± He shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. ¡°Though, honestly, I can¡¯t blame her.¡±


    The room grew quiet again, the weight of unspoken stories hanging thick in the air. Emelia hesitated, then turned to Arthur. ¡°Um¡­ Arthur? Could we talk in private?¡±


    Arthur blinked, caught off guard by the request. ¡°S-sure. Where should we go?¡±


    ¡°This way,¡± Emelia said softly, gesturing for him to follow. She led him to her room, her pace unhurried but purposeful.


    Arthur stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the space. The room was cozy, filled with pieces of Emelia¡¯s personality. A small bookshelf lined one wall, brimming with novels in neat rows. Plushies of various animals and characters were arranged on the bed, their soft colors standing out against the dim light. His eyes finally landed on the nightstand, where a framed photo of the two of them smiled back at him¡ªa frozen moment of happiness that now felt like a distant memory.


    Emelia walked over to the bed, sitting down and fiddling with the hem of her skirt. ¡°Hugo told me,¡± she began, her voice quiet but steady. ¡°He said ghosts that smell like mint had their bodies stolen by angels¡­ after they tried to kill themselves.¡±


    Arthur stiffened, the words striking a chord of guilt and pain he hadn¡¯t yet faced. ¡°Emelia¡­¡± he whispered, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.


    The room felt smaller, the silence between them heavy with the weight of what neither of them was quite ready to say.


    ¡°To be fully honest, I¡ª¡± Arthur began, but his words were cut off by a piercing scream that tore through the air.


    ¡°Eliza!¡± Emelia gasped, her eyes wide with panic.


    Arthur didn¡¯t hesitate. He bolted toward the sound, his pulse pounding in his ears. Emelia followed close behind as they reached Eliza¡¯s room. Without a second thought, Arthur shoved the door open, and the scene that greeted them was pure chaos.


    The room was in complete disarray. The wardrobe lay toppled over, its contents spilled across the floor. Shards of glass from shattered photo frames glittered in the dim light, carpeting the ground like jagged stars. But it was Eliza who captured their focus. She was pressed against the wall, her body lifted several feet off the ground, her feet dangling helplessly. Around her neck coiled a slimy, black tentacle, its pulsating surface glistening as it tightened mercilessly.


    ¡°Not¡­ again,¡± Eliza choked out, her voice strained as her hands clawed at the tentacle. Her face was pale, her breaths ragged.


    Arthur¡¯s gaze darted around the room until it landed on a knife lying on the floor amidst the mess. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and lunged at the tentacle. The blade sliced through the slick appendage with a sickening squelch, spraying a dark, viscous fluid across the floor. Eliza fell to the ground, gasping and coughing violently as she clutched her throat.


    Arthur barely had time to check on her before the wall beside them cracked, a small hole forming as something began to emerge. The hole could¡¯ve fit a rat at most, but the creature that crawled out defied all logic.


    It unfolded itself slowly, its body impossibly twisting and stretching until it stood upright. Though human-sized, its grotesque form seemed too large for the space it had just emerged from. Its skin was a raw, angry red, stretched tightly over its frame like a grotesque costume. Where ears should have been, there was only smooth flesh. Its single, massive eye gleamed like a sickly yellow lantern, its gaze locking onto Arthur with a predatory intensity.


    When it opened its gaping mouth, a writhing mass of slimy, cylindrical tentacles spilled out, lashing the air violently. Each appendage moved with a life of its own, dripping a viscous, greenish liquid onto the floor. Its jagged, unsteady movements gave the impression of something that had no bones, yet it remained disturbingly upright. The wings on its back were skeletal, with no feathers, only sinew and torn skin stretched across the bony frames.


    Arthur froze, the knife trembling in his hand. The creature¡¯s jagged movements were mesmerizing in their unnaturalness, a stark reminder of the nightmarish world he now inhabited.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The sound of hurried footsteps signaled Hugo¡¯s arrival. He burst into the room, his metal bat already in hand. Without hesitation, he swung it at the creature¡¯s torso, the impact echoing through the room. The Fallen barely flinched, its massive eye narrowing in annoyance as it lashed one of its tentacles toward him.


    ¡°Move!¡± Hugo barked, dodging the attack with practiced ease. In one swift motion, he pulled a taser from his jacket and jammed it into the creature¡¯s neck. A burst of electricity crackled through the air, and the Fallen collapsed, its body melting into a puddle-like form that sloshed unsettlingly across the floor.


    Hugo turned, hoisting the still-recovering Eliza into his arms. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. Now,¡± he ordered, his voice clipped and urgent.


    Arthur and Emelia exchanged a quick glance, both understanding the gravity of the situation. They didn¡¯t need to be told twice. The group hurried out of the room, the distant sounds of wet, squelching movement behind them serving as a reminder that the creature might not stay down for long.


    As they reached the main area, Roxanne appeared, her wide eyes darting between them and the direction they¡¯d come from. ¡°What¡¯s going on? What¡¯s that noise?¡±


    ¡°No time to explain!¡± Hugo snapped. ¡°Move it!¡±


    Not waiting for an answer, Roxanne joined the group, her fear overriding any curiosity. Together, they fled the hideout, their footsteps echoing in the dark, damp tunnels. The oppressive sense of danger clung to them like the creature¡¯s vile stench, filling the air with a suffocating weight.


    The sewers were colder than usual, each breath visible as wisps of vapor in the dim light. The faint sound of water dripping from unseen crevices only amplified their unease. Eliza clung to Hugo tightly, her fingers gripping his shirt as though letting go would make her disappear. Silent tears streamed down her face, her usually sharp demeanor crumbling under the weight of fear.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± Hugo murmured, his voice steady but strained. He glanced down at her, his brow furrowed with determination. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We just need to survive until morning. Once the sun rises, all the Fallen will disappear. Just hold on.¡±


    Eliza nodded weakly, but her grip didn¡¯t loosen.


    ¡°How did that thing even get in?¡± Arthur asked, his voice tight with panic as he struggled to keep up.


    ¡°Each Fallen is different,¡± Hugo replied grimly, his eyes scanning the dark tunnels ahead. ¡°They all have their own quirks, their own¡­ abilities. But I never thought one could contort itself like that. That thing¡­ it shouldn¡¯t have been able to get through the walls.¡±


    ¡°Boss,¡± Roxanne chimed in, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. ¡°Where are we going? Do you even have a plan?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Hugo snapped, though his tone betrayed a hint of irritation¡ªmore at the situation than at her. ¡°I¡¯ve got multiple hideouts set up for emergencies like this. It won¡¯t be as nice as our main spot, but it¡¯ll keep us alive.¡±


    Arthur reached out, his hand finding Emelia¡¯s. ¡°Just hold on to me. Don¡¯t let go.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Emelia whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. Despite the chaos, her faint smile was a flicker of comfort in the darkness. ¡°I promise.¡±


    The group pressed on, their faith in Hugo¡¯s plan the only thing keeping them moving forward. But the further they went, the more oppressive the air seemed to grow. It felt heavier, thicker, as if the tunnels themselves were conspiring against them. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, twisting and writhing like living things.


    Arthur¡¯s grip on Emelia¡¯s hand tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears. The hope they clung to felt fragile, tenuous¡ªlike a thread that could snap at any moment.


    And then it did.


    As they rounded a corner, they came to an abrupt stop. The faint flicker of hope they had been nurturing extinguished in an instant. Blocking their path was a creature so grotesque, so otherworldly, that it made the previous Fallen seem almost tame.


    Its lower half resembled a massive centipede, its countless legs squirming and clicking against the wet floor. Instead of feet, grotesque, rotting hands protruded from each segment, their bloody red fingernails scraping against the ground. The air reeked of decay, each step leaving a slimy residue in its wake.


    The creature¡¯s upper half was cloaked in black, the fabric hanging loosely as if draped over a frame that barely existed. Neither its torso nor its face was visible, but something inside the cloak shifted and writhed with an unsettling, wet sound¡ªlike countless worms squirming together. From its back emerged enormous black wings, each feather glinting in the dim light like a razor-sharp blade.


    The cloak shifted, and long, grotesque arms emerged from beneath it. These were not arms in the traditional sense but grotesque appendages that split into writhing tentacles, each one lashing violently as if searching for something¡ªor someone¡ªto latch onto.


    The group froze in place, their breaths caught in their throats. The air felt charged, suffocating, as if the very presence of the creature was draining the life from the surrounding space.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Roxanne whispered, her voice trembling.


    Hugo gritted his teeth, his grip on Eliza tightening. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted, his usual confidence replaced by a grim seriousness. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a Fallen like this. Feathers¡­ on its wings? That¡¯s new.¡±


    The creature¡¯s single, massive eye appeared beneath the hood of its cloak, its eerie, glowing red gaze locking onto them. The wet, squelching sound of its movements filled the tunnel as it began to advance, its tentacles lashing the walls with sharp, wet cracks.


    Arthur felt Emelia¡¯s hand tremble in his, and for a moment, he thought he might break. But then Hugo¡¯s voice cut through the oppressive silence.


    ¡°Stay behind me. No matter what.¡±


    A sinister red light flared from the Fallen¡¯s single eye, bathing the tunnel in an eerie, pulsating glow. The air grew heavier as the light swept over the group, lingering on each of them as though it were scanning their very souls.


    When the beam passed over Hugo, Eliza, and Arthur, it froze. The creature stiffened, its grotesque body halting its unnatural movements. The red glow intensified, the eye narrowing as if in recognition. It wasn¡¯t just searching¡ªit had found something. Three things. Its laugh filled the air, a chilling sound that reverberated like a thousand whispers in the dark. Yet the creature had no mouth.


    Not yet.


    It blinked, and in an instant, its single, glowing eye was replaced by a gaping maw. The space where its eye had been now stretched into a vertical slit filled with endless rows of jagged teeth, each glistening with a sickly sheen. The teeth churned like a grinder, a horrifying promise of what would happen to anything unfortunate enough to fall into its grasp. The sound of grinding echoed, sharp and wet, sending shivers through the group.


    The Fallen blinked again, and the mouth vanished as though it had never existed. Its eye returned, unblinking, its crimson light locking onto the three of them once more. It tilted its head, as though amused, before letting out another hollow, echoing laugh that made the walls of the sewer tremble.


    Arthur¡¯s hands tightened into fists, cold sweat breaking out across his skin despite the chill of the tunnel. ¡°What the hell is it doing?¡± he muttered, his voice barely audible over the creature¡¯s laughter.


    ¡°It¡¯s found something,¡± Hugo said grimly, stepping in front of the group, his bat raised defensively. ¡°And it doesn¡¯t plan on letting us go.¡±


    ¡°Found what?¡± Eliza rasped, still clutching Hugo¡¯s arm. Her voice was strained, fear flickering behind her usually sharp eyes.


    Hugo didn¡¯t answer. His gaze stayed locked on the creature, his knuckles whitening around the grip of his bat, that he kept on his waist.


    The creature¡¯s laugh faded, replaced by the sound of its tentacles cracking against the walls. It advanced slowly, deliberately, its razor-edged wings stretching wide, scraping against the sides of the tunnel. Sparks flew as the bladed feathers carved into the concrete, each step closer sending a ripple of dread through the group.

 Chapter 5-Archangel of Truth

    The Fallen advanced, its grotesque body jerking with each uneven step. Its single, glowing eye fixed hungrily on the group, its tentacles thrashing violently. The surrounding air grew colder, the oppressive weight of the creature¡¯s presence suffocating.


    But then it stopped.


    In one grotesque motion, the creature¡¯s head snapped back, its neck twisting in a full 180 degrees with a sickening crack. Its massive eye flared, shifting from crimson to a brilliant gold. A faint, otherworldly hum filled the air as it turned its entire body, as if something far more enticing had caught its attention.


    Illusionary feathers began to fall from above, shimmering faintly as they drifted through the sewer''s darkness. Each feather dissolved into faint wisps of light before hitting the ground, their glow casting eerie shadows on the walls. The group froze, their breaths caught in their throats as they felt the shift in the atmosphere. Something¡ªsomeone¡ªwas approaching.


    The Fallen¡¯s movements grew frantic, its tentacles writhing wildly as it charged toward the source of the feathers. Whatever it sensed, it was desperate to devour.


    A calm, commanding voice echoed through the tunnel, cutting through the chaos like a blade. ¡°The angels¡¯ first sin was allowing that devil to defile our god. The madness of our god drove us out of Nirvana and into this wretched realm, where the world of man tainted our heavenly flesh.¡±


    The voice was calm, yet every word dripped with disdain. Though the speaker remained unseen, the group could feel his presence¡ªan overwhelming aura of danger and power that made even the Fallen seem insignificant.


    ¡°And yet,¡± the voice continued, steady and unyielding, ¡°the humans¡¯ first sin was far simpler. Staying alive. Every day, you disgusting creatures perpetuate this sin. And now, I must walk among you mongrels.¡±


    The Fallen¡¯s eye transformed into its horrifying maw, rows of jagged teeth grinding together as it closed the distance. Its tentacles lashed at the walls, the sound of cracking stone reverberating through the tunnel as it prepared to consume the intruder.


    The feathers continued to fall, swirling in a strange, hypnotic pattern as the figure stepped into view.


    ¡°There is only one truth in this world,¡± the voice said, now clear and unmistakable. ¡°The rot must be purged.¡±


    The moment the words were spoken, the Fallen froze mid-lunge. In an instant, its grotesque body was diced into countless pieces. The air rang with the faint, metallic hum of a blade cutting through flesh, though no movement had been seen. The sewer walls were splattered with viscous black blood as the remains of the creature fell to the ground in chunks, twitching weakly before going still.


    As the blood pooled around the fallen pieces, the feathers vanished, leaving only the silhouette of a man standing amidst the carnage. Slowly, he stepped forward, his boots splashing lightly in the muck. The faint glow of the sewer¡¯s dim lighting illuminated his figure.


    He wore a long black trench coat, its edges frayed and darkened with age. A katana hung at his side, its sheath unremarkable yet emanating an aura of silent menace. His messy white hair fell over his face, framing piercing purple eyes. Deep, dark bags beneath them hinted at sleepless nights¡ªor perhaps an eternity of weariness. Despite his disheveled appearance, his presence was suffocating.


    Arthur¡¯s heart sank as he recognized the face¡ªthe face he once called his own.


    It was him.


    Or rather, it was Veritas, the angel who had stolen his body.


    ¡°You survived longer than I thought, mutt,¡± Veritas said, his voice cold and condescending. His gaze swept over the group, his lips curling into a faint smirk. ¡°But don¡¯t get too comfortable. The rot always finds a way to crawl back.¡±


    The group stood frozen, the oppressive silence following his words more deafening than the creature¡¯s shrieks had been.


    ¡°Arthur, is that¡­?¡± Hugo began, his voice faltering as his gaze locked onto the figure before them.


    Arthur¡¯s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. ¡°It is,¡± he said, his voice cold and sharp, eyes burning with hatred. ¡°That bastard angel, Veritas.¡±


    Veritas smirked, his purple eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. ¡°Running from the Fallen now, are we? What happened to that burning desire to die, Arthur? Or is it that being reunited with your precious dead girlfriend has suddenly made everything peaches and cream?¡± He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. ¡°How touching.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s breath hitched, his grip on Emelia¡¯s hand tightening. But Veritas wasn¡¯t finished.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± Veritas continued, his tone growing darker. ¡°Do you remember how she died, Arthur? She cried for you, pathetically calling your name as the knife plunged into her again and again. Her blood spilled across the cold pavement, her throat choking on her final wish¡ªthat you would save her.¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± Emelia whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes.


    Veritas¡¯s smirk deepened, ignoring her plea. ¡°And where were you, Arthur? Let me refresh your memory. You were being smacked around like a pi?ata by your dear old dad. Funny how you couldn¡¯t even save yourself, let alone her.¡±


    The words hit like a sledgehammer, each syllable digging into Arthur¡¯s soul. His breathing grew ragged, his vision blurring with rage. Without thinking, he released Emelia¡¯s hand and snatched Hugo¡¯s bat in one swift motion.


    ¡°Arthur, wait!¡± Hugo called, his voice edged with panic.


    Arthur didn¡¯t listen. He swung the bat with all his strength, aiming for Veritas¡¯s smug face. The air cracked with the force of the strike¡ªbut the bat passed harmlessly through, as if Veritas were made of smoke.


    Veritas chuckled, a low, guttural sound that echoed through the tunnel. ¡°Did you really think that would work? While I can interact with you pathetic wretches¡ªand even kill you if I feel so inclined¡ªyour worthless hands can no longer touch the mortal realm. You¡¯re nothing but shadows clinging to scraps of a world that no longer belongs to you.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Arthur stumbled back, his chest heaving as his grip on the bat tightened. The futility of the situation only fueled his fury, his knuckles whitening as he glared at Veritas.


    ¡°Enjoy your miserable existence,¡± Veritas said mockingly, his voice dripping with condescension. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll survive.¡±


    As if to punctuate his words, Veritas suddenly coughed, a spatter of dark blood escaping his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his sleeve, his smirk faltering slightly.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Arthur spat, his voice venomous. ¡°Choking on your own lies?¡±


    Veritas chuckled again, though weaker this time. ¡°Ah, yes. I forgot to mention¡­ telling lies does come with its drawbacks. A little curse, you might say.¡± He gestured lazily at the bloodstain on his sleeve, his smirk returning. ¡°But who needs lies when the truth cuts so much deeper?¡±


    Arthur¡¯s rage boiled over, his vision tunneling on the angel wearing his face. But before he could act again, Emelia stepped between them, her tear-streaked face resolute. ¡°Arthur, stop,¡± she said firmly, her voice trembling but steady. ¡°He¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    Veritas raised an eyebrow, his smirk curving into something darker, more sinister. ¡°Listen to her, Arthur. The little ghost still believes in you. How sweet.¡±


    ¡°Get out,¡± Hugo yelled, gripping his taser with a trembling hand. Despite the steel in his voice, the faint quiver betrayed his unease. ¡°Now.¡±


    Veritas regarded Hugo with a look of mild amusement, tilting his head as though considering the demand. ¡°But I¡¯m not done,¡± he said, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. He gestured lazily toward Hugo. ¡°Honestly, you¡¯re the most fascinating one here. How does it feel to go from hunting the supernatural to becoming the supernatural?¡±


    ¡°That story was real?¡± Roxanne blurted, her wide eyes darting to Hugo.


    ¡°Of course it was,¡± Veritas said with a chuckle, as if the answer should have been obvious. ¡°He served an organization called A.E.G.I.S. A secretive little group with big ambitions. Most of its members have supernatural abilities themselves. Funny, really, considering how they like to pretend they¡¯re the heroes.¡± His eyes flicked to Roxanne, his grin widening. ¡°Oh, and the two dashing gentlemen you encountered the night you died? Agents of A.E.G.I.S as well. Small world, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Roxanne¡¯s jaw dropped, the pieces clicking together in her mind. ¡°Wait, what?¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Hugo growled, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°You¡¯ve had your fun. I suggest you leave.¡±


    Veritas let out a soft laugh, ignoring the threat entirely. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m almost done.¡± He turned his gaze to Eliza, who had been hiding silently behind Hugo, her trembling form clutching at his arm like a lifeline. ¡°But before I go, how about poor little Eliza? She¡¯s been cowering behind you, hoping you¡¯d protect her. How quaint.¡±


    Hugo moved to shield Eliza further, his shoulders squaring as he glared at Veritas. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that, Hugo. It¡¯s not fair if we don¡¯t share her story, is it? Everyone here¡¯s had their dirty little secrets dragged into the light. Why should she be any different?¡± Veritas¡¯s voice was honeyed venom, sweet and sharp, calculated to cut.


    Eliza shook her head violently, her eyes welling with tears. ¡°Stop it. Please stop talking,¡± she begged, her voice breaking.


    Veritas¡¯s smirk deepened, his words slower, deliberate. ¡°You see, Eliza was quite the challenge for my dear comrade Devotiel. Such a strong will. Such defiance. She had to work extra hard to sweet-talk her into ending it all.¡± He sighed theatrically, shaking his head. ¡°You were tricky, weren¡¯t you, Eliza?¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± she whimpered, her hands covering her ears as if they could block out his words. ¡°I don¡¯t want to remember. Please don¡¯t make me remember.¡±


    Arthur and Emelia exchanged worried glances, their anger at Veritas eclipsed by the sight of Eliza¡ªso strong, so unflinching¡ªreduced to this state. For the first time since Arthur had met her, her eyes weren¡¯t filled with sharp wit or anger but pure, unbridled fear.


    ¡°Ah, but that¡¯s the fun part, isn¡¯t it?¡± Veritas said, his tone mockingly light. He leaned forward slightly, his purple eyes locking onto hers. ¡°Reliving that night. The panic. The despair. You can feel it, can¡¯t you? Crawling up your spine, whispering in your ear, reminding you how helpless you were.¡±


    ¡°Stop it!¡± Eliza screamed, her voice raw with pain, tears streaming freely down her face. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, trembling violently.


    Veritas straightened, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his coat with an air of practiced indifference. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll leave the poor girl to her nightmares. For now.¡± He turned his gaze back to the group, his smirk sharp enough to cut. ¡°Well, this has been delightful. I¡¯ll see you all soon, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    But just as he began to turn away, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes gleamed with malicious delight as he added, ¡°Though, before I go, I suppose it¡¯s only fair to tell you how she died. Eliza hung herself¡­ while the corpses of her parents lay on the floor, her fingerprints smeared all over the knife embedded in their chests. I did say she had to work extra hard.¡±


    His words hung in the air like a poison cloud, suffocating and vile. Eliza¡¯s breath hitched audibly, her body trembling as tears streamed down her face. She sank to her knees, her hands clutching her stomach as if trying to hold herself together.


    Veritas turned fully this time, his voice light and cheerful, as though he were discussing the weather. ¡°Ah, the lengths some souls will go to escape the weight of their sins. Truly admirable.¡± With that, he turned on his heel, his black trench coat billowing behind him as he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, his laughter echoing faintly in the distance.


    The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by Eliza¡¯s gasps as she struggled to contain the tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. Her eyes, usually sharp and filled with defiance, were now vacant, hollow. She wanted to scream, to vomit, to vanish, but her body betrayed her. She was trapped in the suffocating grip of her memories, the horror Veritas had dredged up consuming her entirely.


    Arthur clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where Veritas had disappeared, his body trembling with a mix of rage and helplessness. ¡°Bastard,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.


    Roxanne shifted uncomfortably, her usual levity nowhere to be found. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. Even Hugo, the steady anchor of the group, seemed momentarily lost in thought.


    Finally, it was Hugo who broke the silence, his voice steady but carrying a weight of exhaustion. ¡°There¡¯s no point in standing around. Come on. The other hideout is up ahead.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, he knelt beside Eliza, scooping her up in his arms as gently as if she were made of glass. She didn¡¯t resist. Her head rested limply against his shoulder, her tear-streaked face turned away from the others. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out.


    The group began moving again, their footsteps echoing through the cold, damp tunnel. The oppressive air seemed even heavier now, weighed down by the ghost of Veritas¡¯s words.


    After a few moments of silence, Eliza¡¯s voice broke through, barely a whisper. ¡°Hugo¡­ do you think the ghosts of the people we¡¯ve killed will appear in this hell?¡±


    Her question lingered in the air, a quiet plea for absolution wrapped in fear.


    Hugo glanced down at her, his expression softening despite the gravity of the situation. His reply came after a beat, calm but tinged with the honesty she likely didn¡¯t want to hear. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Many of us end up eaten by the Fallen each night. Even if the souls of the people we¡¯ve wronged appear here¡­ I don¡¯t know if they¡¯d still exist after this place takes them.¡±


    Eliza closed her eyes tightly, as though trying to shut out the world, her tears soaking into Hugo¡¯s shirt. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t want to see them,¡± she whispered. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    Hugo said nothing, his steady presence the only comfort he could offer. The rest of the group remained silent as well, the weight of what had transpired pressing down on them like a lead blanket. Each step forward felt heavier, the tunnel stretching endlessly ahead.

 Chapter 6-The Priest of Half Insanity

    The sun rose, bathing the world in pale golden light. The oppressive weight of the night¡¯s horrors lifted, though the scars they left behind lingered. The Fallen had vanished with the dawn, retreating into whatever dark abyss they called home. For now, the group could breathe¡ªbut only until the next nightfall.


    Each member drifted into their own solitude, seeking refuge from the weight of Veritas¡¯s words and the memories they stirred. Roxanne returned to the main hideout, settling into her corner with a stack of manga. The familiar pages and exaggerated stories were a welcome distraction. Hugo, ever the pragmatist, left to arrange repairs for the hole in the wall and to reinforce the hideout¡¯s defenses. Eliza and Emelia withdrew to their rooms in the backup hideout, their doors closed against the world, seeking solace in isolation.


    Arthur, however, couldn¡¯t remain confined. The walls felt too close, the silence too heavy. He needed space. Without a word to the others, he floated through the tunnels and emerged into the daylight above.


    The world above ground was starkly different from the oppressive darkness of the sewers. The streets were alive with motion and sound, a stark contrast to the desolation he¡¯d grown accustomed to. Cars weaved through traffic, their engines humming. Pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, their faces buried in phones or engaged in quiet conversations. Life moved on, oblivious to the unseen world Arthur now inhabited.


    Arthur couldn¡¯t help but feel detached as he floated above the bustling roads. The people below seemed like ants, scurrying about their lives, unaware of the horrors lurking just out of sight. He drifted aimlessly, watching and observing, wondering if they even realized how fragile their existence was.


    Then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, his attention was caught by a figure standing at the edge of a small park. The man was peculiar, to say the least. His messy orange hair caught the sunlight, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. One of his eyes was hidden beneath a pristine white medical eye patch, its stark contrast against his pale skin drawing immediate attention. The other, a startling shade of pink, seemed to gleam with an unsettling intensity, as though it could pierce through to one¡¯s very soul. Just beneath the exposed eye, a small mole adorned his cheek¡ªa subtle imperfection that only served to heighten the strange, magnetic aura surrounding him.   He wore black, priest-like robes, the fabric adorned with faint silver embroidery that shimmered in the light. Around his neck hung a pendant¡ªa symbol of some religious order Arthur didn¡¯t recognize. But the most bizarre detail was the weapon strapped to the man¡¯s waist, a chainsaw, its blade gleaming as though freshly sharpened.


    Arthur froze mid-air, his curiosity piqued. Nobody should be able to see him. And yet, as if sensing his presence, the man tilted his head upward and waved. His expression was warm, almost friendly, but there was an edge to it¡ªa sharpness that made Arthur hesitate.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Arthur muttered. He hovered uncertainly for a moment before descending, drawn by the strange man¡¯s unnerving aura.


    The man¡¯s smile widened as Arthur landed. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a phone and held it to his ear, as though engaged in a casual call.


    ¡°Hello there, lost lamb,¡± the man said, his voice smooth and rich, yet carrying a playful undertone. ¡°How has the land of the dead been treating you?¡±


    Arthur¡¯s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. ¡°How can you see me?¡± he demanded. ¡°I¡¯m dead. This shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±


    The man lowered the phone, his pink eye sparkling with amusement. ¡°Oh, dear boy,¡± he said, tucking the phone into his robe with a theatrical flourish. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what¡¯s possible. Death is a thin veil, and some of us have the¡­ privilege of peeking through it.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he faced the enigmatic man. ¡°Who are you? What do you want?¡±


    The man tapped his chin theatrically, his grin widening as though he relished the tension in the air. ¡°Who am I?¡± he mused, his voice dripping with mock contemplation. ¡°Well, you can call me Michello.¡± His grin stretched wider, revealing teeth that were just a touch too perfect, their pristine sharpness unsettling rather than reassuring. ¡°And as for what I want¡­¡± He leaned forward slightly, his pink eye gleaming with a dangerous light. ¡°That depends entirely on you.¡±


    Arthur instinctively took a wary step back, his senses screaming that Michello was no ordinary human. Something about the man radiated danger, controlled chaos that made the hairs on the back of Arthur¡¯s neck stand on end. ¡°Why are you talking to me?¡± Arthur asked, his voice edged with suspicion. ¡°What are you?¡±


    Michello¡¯s expression softened, though his unsettling aura didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Ah, the plight of you lost lambs,¡± he said with a hint of melancholy, though his tone remained eerily playful. ¡°To be trapped in this prison, wandering aimlessly, burdened by sins that chain you to the darkness. It¡¯s tragic, really. But fear not¡ªmy Lady alone holds the key to your salvation.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s brow furrowed, frustration bubbling beneath his confusion. ¡°What do you mean? Tell me more.¡±


    Michello straightened, clasping his hands in front of him as if in prayer. ¡°This existence is but a trial,¡± he said, his voice taking on an almost reverent cadence. ¡°A trial by my Lady, designed to test your worth. To prove yourselves, to cleanse the filth of sin you¡¯ve smeared upon your souls, and to be reborn into her infinite embrace.¡± He tilted his head, his unsettling grin softening into something almost serene. ¡°Shall we pray together, Arthur? Shall we begin your cleansing?¡±


    Arthur¡¯s patience snapped, his voice cutting through Michello¡¯s cryptic monologue. ¡°You¡¯re not making any sense. What cult are you part of?¡±


    Michello chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down Arthur¡¯s spine. ¡°Cult? Oh, dear boy, you wound me.¡± He spread his arms wide, the gesture was theatrical and unsettling in equal measure. ¡°We are no mere cult. We are a recognized religion, fully embraced in Japan. Perhaps it¡¯s unsurprising that you Westerners remain blind to such truths¡­ but no matter. My Lady does not sacrifice anyone unworthy of her grace.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Arthur stared, caught between disbelief and unease. Michello¡¯s tone carried an unsettling certainty, as though his faith was an unshakable foundation beneath a structure of madness.


    Michello¡¯s grin sharpened again, his tone shifting as he straightened his posture. ¡°I am a proud servant of the Church of the Infinite Gates,¡± he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. ¡°In your world of the supernatural¡ªa world you are now irrevocably part of¡ªmy name is known by another title. My codename is The Executioner.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s stomach twisted at the name, the weight of it heavy with implications he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to understand. He took another step back, his instincts screaming that this man was as dangerous as any Fallen he had encountered. ¡°Executioner?¡± he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Michello¡¯s grin grew wolfish, his pink eye narrowing with dangerous glee. ¡°Ah, I see you¡¯re catching on. Good. It makes this far more interesting.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s voice wavered as he forced himself to speak. ¡°What are you doing here, anyway?¡±


    Michello laughed lightly, the sound casual yet laced with menace. ¡°Oh, just passing the time,¡± he said, his tone deceptively airy. ¡°Waiting for A.E.G.I.S to make another delightful attempt on my life. It¡¯s something of a sport at this point, you see. I¡¯m their top priority kill target, after all.¡± He paused, his head tilting slightly as his nose twitched. His expression shifted, a predatory gleam lighting his pink eye. ¡°But you, Arthur¡­ you¡¯re far more interesting.¡±


    Arthur stiffened as Michello stepped closer, his movements deliberate and unnervingly predatory, like a lion circling its prey. Each step felt calculated, his presence suffocating. Michello¡¯s nostrils flared slightly, as though catching a faint, tantalizing scent. His pink eye glimmered with a mixture of curiosity and menace.


    ¡°You smell like an angel,¡± Michello murmured, his voice low and dangerously smooth, each word dripping with intrigue.


    Arthur¡¯s blood ran cold. It wasn¡¯t just that Michello could see him¡ªhe was studying him, breaking him down piece by piece. Every glance, every slight twitch of Michello¡¯s features, felt like a scalpel carving into Arthur¡¯s very essence.


    ¡°So,¡± Michello continued, his grin sharpening, ¡°which of those ten bastards manipulated you into forsaking your oh-so-precious life?¡±


    Arthur hesitated, the words catching in his throat before he forced them out. ¡°It was Veritas¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Michello interrupted, his grin widening into something almost feral. ¡°The bastard of Truth.¡± He spat the name like venom. ¡°Such heathens are the enemies of my Lady and the Church. Their lies, ironically cloaked as truths¡ªare blasphemies of the highest order.¡± He paused, his gaze narrowing in thought before a bright smile returned to his face. ¡°I¡¯ve decided. I¡¯ll remain in the U.S. for a while. For you, my dear young lamb. To help you recover your body and return to the land of the living.¡±


    Arthur blinked, stunned by the abrupt offer. ¡°You can¡­ wait¡ªcould you help me hunt two more angels, too?¡± His voice was hesitant but laced with determination.


    Michello froze, his expression shifting into one of euphoric delight. ¡°Not one, but three?¡± His hands clasped together, his pink eye gleaming like a child presented with an unexpected gift. ¡°Oh, you beautiful lamb! You¡¯ve blessed me with such an opportunity. Thank you. Truly, thank you. To guide you and your friends into my Lady¡¯s embrace will be a divine mission, one I shall cherish.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s mind raced at Michello¡¯s words, hope flickering faintly in the chaos. ¡°Tell me,¡± he asked, his voice soft but insistent, ¡°is it possible to revive someone already dead?¡±


    Michello¡¯s smile faltered for a brief moment, his expression growing thoughtful. ¡°Possible?¡± he echoed, his tone almost reverent. ¡°Yes, young lamb. But certainty? No. The path is fraught with trials few could overcome. Rumor has it that A.E.G.I.S has unearthed half of the equation for resurrection, but the other half remains shrouded in mystery. To return the departed to life, one would need authority over both the realm of the living and the domain of souls. It is doable, my boy, but it teeters on the edge of the impossible.¡±


    Arthur nodded, the weight of Michello¡¯s words settling heavily on his shoulders. Still, a faint glimmer of determination lit his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s all I needed to know. Thank you so much.¡±


    Michello¡¯s grin returned, though now tinged with an unsettling edge. ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome, my dear lamb,¡± he said, his tone almost affectionate. ¡°But now, I must take my leave. I can sense the rats closing in on my location.¡± His gaze flicked to the horizon, his smile curving into something far more vicious. ¡°It seems the hunt has come to me.¡±


    Without another word, Michello turned, his robes billowing behind him as he dashed into the distance, his movements impossibly swift and eerily fluid. The faint sound of his laughter echoed in the air, a blend of exhilaration and bloodlust that sent shivers down Arthur¡¯s spine.


    As the man vanished into the distance, Arthur remained frozen, his mind racing. The unsettling encounter left a lingering weight in the air like a storm waiting to break. Whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªMichello was, one thing was certain: Arthur had just made a dangerous acquaintance. The man¡¯s words, his unsettling smile, and the eerie mix of menace and zeal left an impression that Arthur couldn¡¯t shake.


    With the daylight beginning to wane, Arthur decided not to risk staying out any longer. The memory of the Fallen and Veritas¡¯s taunts still loomed large in his mind. He turned and made his way back to the hideout, his thoughts swirling with confusion and unease.


    As he descended into the tunnels, he found Hugo leaning against the wall near the entrance, a cigarette in hand. The faint glow of its ember barely lit his face, but his sharp eyes immediately locked onto Arthur.


    ¡°Back so soon?¡± Hugo asked, exhaling a thin plume of smoke.


    Arthur hesitated for a moment before speaking. ¡°Hey, Hugo¡­ do you know a man named Michello? His codename is Executioner.¡±


    The cigarette stopped halfway to Hugo¡¯s lips. His expression darkened, his usual calm giving way to a look of wary disbelief. ¡°The Priest of Half Insanity?¡± he muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of contempt and grim amusement. ¡°Of course, I¡¯ve heard of him. That psycho is so dangerous that A.E.G.I.S. would rather risk an all-out war with Japan¡ªand the cult that controls it, then let him continue to exist unchecked. And even then, we still can¡¯t kill him. Why the hell are you bringing him up?¡±


    Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his gaze avoiding Hugo¡¯s piercing stare. ¡°Uh¡­ I might¡¯ve accidentally¡­ befriended him. He said he¡¯d hunt down the angels for us. Actually, he seemed really excited about it.¡±


    Hugo froze for a moment, then let out a sharp, humorless laugh. ¡°Good luck, kid. You¡¯ve gone and made friends with one of the greatest criminals in the country¡ªhell, maybe the world.¡±

 Chapter 7-Gods Favorite Child

    ¡°Why is Michello considered so dangerous?¡± Arthur asked, leaning back against the cold stone wall of the hideout. ¡°Besides the fact that he was carrying a chainsaw, he actually seemed¡­ kind of nice.¡±


    Hugo let out a sharp, humorless laugh, exhaling smoke from his cigarette. ¡°Nice? That man¡¯s the definition of a wolf in sheep¡¯s clothing. You think he¡¯s dangerous because of the chainsaw? Kid, sit down. You need to hear this.¡±


    ¡°Oooh, boss,¡± Roxanne piped up, her freckled face lighting with interest as she set her manga aside. ¡°Story time! This should be good.¡±


    Hugo raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t care about my stories?¡±


    Roxanne shrugged, leaning forward with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s before I thought they were super fake. Now that I know they¡¯re real? You bet I¡¯m interested.¡±


    Hugo rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath before gesturing for Arthur to sit. As the group settled, he took a slow drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around him before speaking.


    ¡°I first met that psycho six years ago,¡± Hugo began, his voice low and steady. ¡°Back then, he¡¯d only recently climbed to the top of A.E.G.I.S¡¯s high-priority kill list. The ¡®young priest,¡¯ as people called him, had a reputation even then. He¡¯d just started ¡®vacationing¡¯ in the U.S.¡ªa trip that left a trail of blood and chaos in its wake. And yet¡­¡± Hugo¡¯s brow furrowed, his tone tinged with bitter amusement. ¡°He spent his days doing the most mundane things: ghost watching, handing out money to anyone struggling, chatting with kids on the street. Like he was some kind of saint.¡±


    Arthur frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a high-priority threat.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, looks are deceiving,¡± Hugo snapped, his tone sharp. He exhaled slowly, composing himself. ¡°One night, I was running a mission to track him down. He wasn¡¯t exactly hiding¡ªhe never does. When I found him, he was strolling through an alleyway, watching the Fallen hunt their prey like it was some kind of art exhibit.¡±


    Even then, Hugo looked older than his years. His hair, prematurely streaked with gray, framed a face etched with exhaustion. The dark bags under his eyes spoke of countless sleepless nights and a job that demanded far too much. His A.E.G.I.S uniform was sharp and professional, but his weary expression betrayed the toll his work had taken.


    The alley was a grotesque scene of carnage. Blood pooled around mangled bodies, the metallic scent thick in the air. There were at least twelve corpses, each hacked apart with terrifying precision. Limbs were scattered like broken dolls, and the walls were splattered with crimson streaks. It was as though the alley itself had been painted in violence.


    Standing in the center of the chaos was Michello. His black robes were immaculate, untouched by the carnage surrounding him. He turned slowly as Hugo approached, the faint hum of the chainsaw at his side the only sound in the otherwise deathly silence.


    ¡°Oh, another agent,¡± Michello said, his voice calm and disinterested, as though greeting an uninvited guest at a dinner party. He tilted his head, his pink eye gleaming with faint amusement. ¡°I grow bored with you dogs. Leave now, and I¡¯ll spare you.¡±


    Hugo tightened his grip on his weapon, his jaw set. ¡°You¡¯ve already killed multiple of my comrades. I can¡¯t let you walk away from this.¡±


    Michello¡¯s gaze swept the alley, his grin widening slightly as he gestured to the carnage. ¡°Ah, yes. Your comrades. Such dedicated souls. Tell me, dog, do you mourn them? Or are they just another part of this endless machine you serve?¡±


    Hugo ignored the taunt, his eyes darting to the bodies. Each one bore deep, jagged cuts¡ªevidence of Michello¡¯s chainsaw. His stomach churned, but he forced himself to stay composed. ¡°Enough games, Michello. Why did you do this?¡±


    Michello chuckled softly, stepping over a severed arm as he began to approach Hugo. ¡°The Fallen,¡± he said, almost wistfully, ¡°such poor creatures, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡± Hugo growled, his patience fraying.


    Michello stopped a few paces away, his pink eye-locking onto Hugo¡¯s. ¡°You can¡¯t see them, can you?¡± he said, his tone tinged with pity. ¡°The dead who linger. Their broken souls, tethered to this realm by their suffering. It¡¯s tragic, really.¡± He sighed, shaking his head. ¡°But then again, I suppose heretic dogs like you wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    Hugo¡¯s grip on his weapon tightened. ¡°Enough of your cryptic nonsense. You¡¯re a monster, Michello. Nothing more.¡±


    Michello¡¯s grin turned sharp, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. ¡°And what are you, Hugo? A savior? A hero? Tell me, do you truly believe you¡¯re making a difference in this world?¡±


    Hugo hesitated, the question cutting deeper than he expected. ¡°No,¡± he admitted finally, his voice bitter. ¡°I kill one monster, but there are always twelve more. Even if I kill you, there¡¯s still the Dove, the Butcher, and a hundred others like you. It¡¯s all a waste of time.¡±


    Michello¡¯s laughter echoed through the blood-soaked alley, rich and unrestrained, as though the surrounding carnage was the punchline to some dark cosmic joke. ¡°Oh, Hugo,¡± he said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye with theatrical flair. ¡°At least you¡¯re honest. That¡¯s why I like you.¡± He stepped closer, his boots squelching in the crimson puddles, his grin widening into something both charismatic and chilling. ¡°But tell me this: if it¡¯s all meaningless, why are you still fighting?¡±


    Hugo stared at him, his jaw clenched tight. He didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t need to. His silence was a fortress, but Michello¡¯s words chipped away at it with unsettling precision.


    Michello tilted his head, his pink eye glinting with dangerous amusement. ¡°Ah, the silence of a man wrestling with his own existence. How poetic.¡± He raised his hand, his fingers snapping with a sharp click. ¡°Let me show you the future¡ªa world of pure horror.¡±


    Before Hugo could react, the world around him warped. His vision blurred, the dim alley dissolving into a twisted, apocalyptic nightmare.


    The sky above him bled crimson, dark clouds swirling ominously as blood rain fell in relentless torrents. The moon hung low, its unblinking eye a glaring, malevolent presence that seemed to bore into his soul. Black feathers drifted through the air like a macabre snowstorm, dissolving into ash upon contact with the ground. The streets writhed with movement as monstrous abominations prowled the desolate landscape. Grotesque creatures with mismatched limbs, gaping maws, and countless, writhing tentacles filled the streets. Their guttural howls echoed like a symphony of despair.


    Hugo¡¯s stomach churned violently as the stench of decay and blood overwhelmed him. The sight¡ªthe sheer wrongness¡ªof the scene was too much. He doubled over, retching, his body convulsing as his mind struggled to process the nightmare unfolding before him.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the horrifying vision vanished. The alley returned, silent save for Hugo¡¯s ragged breathing and the faint hum of Michello¡¯s chainsaw. Hugo staggered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his legs trembling beneath him.


    Michello watched him with an almost pitying expression, his voice softer now, though no less unsettling. ¡°It¡¯s truly horrible, isn¡¯t it?¡± he said, spreading his arms as though embracing the memory of the vision. ¡°I see it every night¡ªa constant reminder of the fate awaiting those who refuse my Lady¡¯s embrace.¡± His smile returned, sharp and dangerous. ¡°I pity you, truly. But there is still hope for even a heretic dog like you. Pray to her, Hugo. Seek her guidance before it¡¯s too late.¡±


    With that, Michello turned on his heel, his black robes billowing as he walked away, leaving Hugo standing amidst the carnage. His chainsaw¡¯s faint hum grew quieter until it was swallowed by the night.


    ¡°At the time,¡± Hugo said, his voice heavy with the weight of memory, ¡°I didn¡¯t know what he showed me was real. I assumed it was just another one of his illusions. A trick to mess with my head.¡±


    Arthur leaned forward, his brows furrowed. ¡°Do you think we can trust him? To kill the angels, I mean?¡±


    Hugo let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Trust? No. But could he do it? Absolutely. Michello is dangerous because he¡¯s brilliant and relentless. I used to talk to the bastard who stole my body¡ªmy own personal angelic tormentor. He mentioned Michello once. Called him ¡®God¡¯s favorite child who chose the path of a devil.¡¯ That¡¯s how the angels refer to him. Even they fear him.¡±


    The room fell silent, the weight of Hugo¡¯s words settling over them like a heavy fog.


    Roxanne let out a low whistle. ¡°What a scary man. But¡­ he might be our best shot, right? I mean, if he¡¯s that dangerous, maybe we should let him help.¡±


    Arthur nodded slowly, determination flashing in his eyes. ¡°If I see him again, I¡¯ll give him more details. We don¡¯t have many options, and if Michello¡¯s willing to go after the angels, then we should let him.¡±


    Hugo sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. ¡°Just be careful, Arthur. You might think you¡¯re using Michello, but don¡¯t forget¡ªhe¡¯s using you, too. And with someone like him, you¡¯re always playing by his rules.¡±


    As nightfall approached, the oppressive tension of the coming darkness hung in the air, but the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Eliza and Emelia stepped into the hideout, their faces drawn with exhaustion.


    ¡°Oh, hello, everyone,¡± Eliza greeted, her voice hollow, lacking its usual sharp edge. She dropped her bag onto a nearby chair, her movements mechanical. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡±


    Hugo didn¡¯t miss a beat, his tone blunt and matter-of-fact. ¡°Arthur became friends with the government¡¯s most wanted criminal.¡±


    Both women froze mid-step, their eyes widening in unison. ¡°What?!¡± they exclaimed in disbelief.


    Eliza blinked, still processing, while Emelia looked between Arthur and Hugo, her face a mix of concern and confusion. ¡°Arthur, is he serious?¡± Emelia asked hesitantly.


    Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, his expression sheepish. ¡°Look, it¡¯s not as bad as it sounds. He said he¡¯d help us with the angels.¡±


    Eliza raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. ¡°And you thought that was a good idea?¡±


    Hugo cut in before Arthur could respond. ¡°Anyway,¡± he said, his voice turning more practical, ¡°I¡¯ve had this place reinforced. The Fallen can¡¯t naturally break objects, so we¡¯re safe in here. I promise.¡±


    Noticing their still-tense expressions, Hugo stood, gripping his metal bat. Without warning, he swung it at their heads. The bat passed harmlessly through, as expected, but the abrupt action drew simultaneous yelps from both women.


    ¡°What the hell, Hugo?!¡± Eliza shouted, grabbing him by the collar with an exasperated glare. ¡°It can¡¯t even hurt us! What was that for?¡±


    Hugo chuckled, unfazed by her outburst. ¡°For that reaction,¡± he said, smirking. He glanced at Emelia. ¡°What about you? Feel like taking a swing at me?¡±


    Emelia tilted her head, her voice calm but mischievous. ¡°Arthur, could you kick him in the shins for me, please?¡±


    ¡°Why me?¡± Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°I can only hit one shin at a time,¡± Emelia replied sweetly before delivering a light kick to Hugo¡¯s shin, grinning as she stepped back.


    Hugo winced theatrically, rubbing his leg as though he could actually feel the impact. ¡°You know what? I¡¯m not cooking dinner tonight.¡±


    ¡°Please, boss!¡± Roxanne chimed in, her voice taking on a pleading tone as she clasped her hands together and attempted a pair of wide, puppy-dog eyes. ¡°It¡¯s been ages since you¡¯ve cooked for us.¡±


    Hugo shot her a flat look. ¡°I cooked yesterday. You¡¯re just greedy.¡±


    Roxanne shrugged innocently, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. There¡¯s no evidence¡ªI made sure of that.¡±


    Hugo groaned, muttering under his breath. ¡°Fine, whatever. But you¡¯re helping this time.¡± He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the kitchen.


    ¡°Wait, no!¡± Roxanne protested, her mock horror betrayed by the grin she tried to hide.


    The rest of the group chuckled as Hugo and Roxanne disappeared into the kitchen, their banter continuing in the background.


    ¡°I swear,¡± Hugo¡¯s voice called out, followed by the sound of a chopping board hitting the counter, ¡°you¡¯d have cut your fingers off ages ago if you weren¡¯t already a ghost.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m better at eating than cooking,¡± Roxanne quipped. ¡°It¡¯s a skill.¡±


    Eliza leaned against the table, her lips twitching into a faint smile as she glanced at Emelia. ¡°You¡¯d think they were siblings the way they go at it.¡±


    Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Roxanne stood over a pile of vegetables, holding a knife with an awkward grip. Hugo sighed, stepping behind her and gently taking her hand. ¡°Here, let me help,¡± he said, guiding her fingers to hold the knife and carefully chop the ingredients properly.


    ¡°T-thanks,¡± Roxanne mumbled, her cheeks flushing slightly as she focused on the task.


    Hugo smirked, his usual gruffness softening just a touch. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Just try not to turn dinner into a disaster.¡±


    After some time, Hugo emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large steaming dish of shrimp Alfredo. The creamy sauce glistened under the dim light, the aroma of garlic, herbs, and perfectly saut¨¦ed shrimp filling the room and drawing everyone¡¯s attention. Behind him, Roxanne trailed with plates and utensils in hand, her usual exuberance noticeably dimmed. She looked utterly spent, her shoulders slumped and her expression somewhere between exhaustion and exasperation.


    ¡°Dinner¡¯s ready,¡± Hugo announced, setting the dish on the table with a flourish. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of pride in his voice as he glanced at the perfectly cooked meal.


    Eliza sniffed the air, her mood lifting slightly. ¡°Well, at least you didn¡¯t burn the sauce this time,¡± she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.


    Roxanne dropped into a chair with an exaggerated sigh, slumping over the table like a defeated warrior. ¡°You say that, but you have no idea the hell I went through. I¡¯ve seen things,¡± she groaned dramatically, waving a hand as though fending off an invisible foe.


    ¡°Things like garlic cloves and measuring cups?¡± Hugo quipped, raising an eyebrow as he handed out plates.


    Roxanne shot him a mock glare. ¡°You¡¯re lucky this turned out edible, or you¡¯d be eating it alone.¡±


    Emelia giggled softly, reaching for a plate. ¡°It smells amazing. Thank you both.¡±


    As everyone began to serve themselves, Arthur glanced at Roxanne, who was still feigning an air of devastation. ¡°You alright there, chef?¡± he asked, a playful smirk on his face.


    Roxanne sat up just enough to grab her fork, her eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯ll survive. Barely.¡±


    ¡°Stop being so dramatic,¡± Hugo muttered, though there was a faint, rare smile on his face as he took his seat.


    The group dug into the meal, the atmosphere growing lighter with each bite. The warm, rich flavors of the Alfredo were a temporary escape, a small comfort in their otherwise chaotic reality. For a while, the horrors of the outside world faded, replaced by laughter and the sound of clinking utensils.


    As the last remnants of dinner disappeared, Roxanne leaned back in her chair, her energy slowly returning. ¡°Okay, I admit it,¡± she said with a grin. ¡°That was worth the suffering.¡±


    Hugo rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±