Across town, a warehouse sat silently on the edge of Lake Pontchartrain. From outside, the place looked abandoned—just another rusted building, long forgotten by fishermen and sailors.
Inside, the atmosphere felt tense and threatening.
Leo sat on a window ledge, looking out at the calm water below. Her leg hung off the edge. She was staring at the sunlight dancing on the water's surface. But, the peace was not enough to stop the troubled thoughts from continuing to run through her mind.
Being a Zodiac and being a part of the Grand Conquest was not something that she really wanted. She sighed and pushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. Joining the Lord was not a choice; it was a last resort.
At the time, the offer had seemed perfect—a beast ring and opportunity powerful enough to grant her strength she never dreamed possible, knowledge of the Mana Gates that opened paths to extraordinary powers.
All she had to do was swear allegiance. A blood pact, they called it.
Simple enough.
Except now, that pact felt more like a chain tightening around her throat.
Leo folded her arms, scowling. She didn't even fully understand the Lord's so-called "Grand Conquest."
All she knew was that it involved sacrificing souls—countless human souls—to open a new realm of strength to the Lord and the Zodiacs. Something about godhood. She could still remember the cold, detached way the Lord had spoken about it, his voice dripping with ambition and chilling disregard for humanity.
Besides, there was another thing about opening up a portal that would connect the two worlds. The purpose of why did he want to connect the Earth and the Beast World?
Leo wasn't entirely sure.
Maybe the Lord intended to assemble some grand army of beast-men, using humanity as his puppets. Maybe he planned to conquer both worlds. Or maybe—and this thought scared her most—he was simply doing it because he could.
A shiver ran down her spine. Lately, the corrupted beast rings had grown stronger, evolving from the lower white tier to something that was known as the higher white tier.
Lower, Low, Middle, High, Higher, Top and Perfect. Those were the tiers taught to them by the Lord. More powerful, more dangerous. Yet, none of those higher-tier White Rings had been handed out to the rank-and-file beast-men.
No, the Lord was waiting.
Strengthening his pawns first—his cannon fodder, as he liked to call them.
Only when they could handle the higher-tier rings would he begin distributing them widely.
"What a twisted man." Leo scowled, tapping her fingers against the rusted window frame.
After a year of bidding the Lord's order, she couldn't help but feel trapped, a pawn herself in the Lord's twisted game. But what choice did she have?
Breaking a blood pact was suicide. Literally.
She exhaled slowly, her mind already calculating the next steps. For now, she would follow orders. She would find these people called Slayers—the "cowboy," Elion, and Jordan. She would deal with them herself if she had to. After all, hesitation would only lead to her destruction.
'This is a much harder life than before.'
She couldn't help it. The whole thing felt off. At first, the killing had been... well, kind of exhilarating. It was the kind of revenge she'd always dreamed about—the rude customers who'd treated her like dirt, the loan sharks who made her life a nightmare. They got what they deserved, and honestly? She kind of enjoyed that.
But now? Now, killing innocent people felt wrong. Like she had crossed some invisible line, and she couldn't quite go back. The thrill was gone. It just didn't sit right anymore.
Yet, deep inside, an uneasy feeling nagged at her—a tiny voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, these new Slayers could offer her a way out.
"I need to control my thoughts," she muttered, eyes narrowing. "If he finds out..." Leo shook her head as if shaking off the very idea. Hope was a dangerous thing. Better to bury that thought before it had a chance to take root. Survival first. Freedom second. Everything else could wait.
She pushed off the window ledge and landed smoothly on the warehouse floor. The sound echoed around her, and she straightened her jacket, brushing off the dust. It was time to start working. She had to hunt souls, open a portal, and—if she was lucky—find a way to stay alive a little longer.
Before she could move again, she heard footsteps in the warehouse. They echoed slowly and carelessly, making her feel annoyed. Leo sighed. That was because she knew exactly who that was, even before she turned around. Someone really annoying.
"Nice spot you've got here, Leo."
A man appeared out of nowhere, hands casually shoved into the pockets of his black leather jacket. But what really caught the attention wasn't his cool demeanor—it was the golden symbol of Sagittarius emblazoned on his back. It glowed with an almost proud intensity, like a banner that couldn't help but demand attention.
And of course. The man was proud of it.
He was really proud of his status as one of the Zodiacs—chosen by the Lord for his Grand Conquest. With each step, his brown dreadlocks swayed. He had the air of a B-boy dancer with sharp features and a constant, amused smirk.
He wasn't bulky, but he wasn't scrawny either—just lean muscle, balanced perfectly between speed and strength. Everything about him, from his laid-back swagger to the cocky tilt of his head, screamed trouble.
He gave Leo his best smile. Maybe he intended it to be charming but it did not do anything to Leo. "Going somewhere without me, Leo? That hurts."
Leo crossed her arms, glaring at him.
"What do you want, Archer?" Leo said, her tone flat.
The man—Sagittarius, though he preferred to be called Archer—spread his arms wide, feigning innocence. "Relax. Just here to remind you. I'm here to make sure you do your job properly, remember?"
Leo rolled her eyes. She would rather face the Slayers alone than spend five minutes stuck with Archer. But as much as she hated admitting it, the Lord had done this for a reason. She knew the Lord was wary of her.
She clenched her jaw. "Fine. But keep up."
Archer laughed and smiled wider. "I wouldn't miss this for anything."
He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and seemed to enjoy Leo's silence. When he realized she wasn't going to respond, he let out a deep sigh.
"So," he began, his voice dripping with mock innocence, "word is, our cowboy friend's got two little sidekicks. Fresh meat, huh? Even a newbie Slayer giving you trouble now?"
Leo's jaw tightened, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the distant horizon. She refused to rise to Archer's bait. Seeing he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted, Archer pressed further.
"Come on, Leo. You telling me you couldn't handle a couple of rookies?"
Leo finally turned to him, eyes flashing dangerously. "I sent lower rankers just to test their strength. I don't take unnecessary risks."
Archer snorted, shaking his head, dreadlocks swaying lightly. "Really? Sounds to me like you're getting cautious. What, you afraid those new kids might give you trouble?"
Leo's expression hardened, but she forced herself to stay calm. Archer always knew exactly how to get under her skin. "Believe whatever you want," she said sharply. "This was reconnaissance, nothing more."
Archer laughed softly, pushing himself off the wall. "Hey, relax. I'm just saying. It doesn't look good when Lady Leo—one of the almighty Zodiacs—is worried about some baby Slayers."
Leo clenched her jaw. "Not worried. Just smart."
Archer raised an eyebrow. "Smart, huh? Well, just make sure your 'smartness' doesn't start looking like fear. The Lord doesn't like doubts."
Leo narrowed her eyes, voice cold as ice. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
Archer smirked, turning away. "Sure you do."
He glanced over his shoulder one last time, his smirk fading into something colder, sharper. "Just don't forget—our Lord expects results. I'd hate to see you disappoint him."
And with that, Archer strolled off, leaving Leo alone, fists clenched, eyes narrowed in simmering anger.
"I never disappoint," she muttered to herself. But deep down, a nagging uncertainty lingered.
***
"I feel like a burglar," Elion muttered, crouching behind a beat-up rooftop AC unit, peeking over the edge like he was casing a joint.
"Correction," Jordan whispered between gasps. "You look like a burglar. I look like a very confused parkour athlete in need of food and rest."
Behind them, Ronan stood motionless, arms folded, expression unimpressed. "You two want to survive or become a prisoner?"
Both of them kept moving, their steps quickening as they silently prayed Ronan would stop mumbling. The last thing they needed right now was another one of his rambling tirades.
Elion scanned the alley below—empty, save for a bakery, a slowly rotating security camera, and two kids sitting on a bench eating powdered beignets.
One of the kids pointed. The other raised a phone.
"Well," Elion muttered, "definitely seen."
"We haven't done anything illegal yet," Jordan said weakly.
"Except rooftop hopping while wearing beast armor," Elion shot back.
"I turned off mine!" Jordan hissed. "Mostly."
He was activating the beast armor, focusing especially on the lower half of his body, making sure it was reinforced to withstand the impact of each jump without causing any damage.
Ronan's voice cut through them. "Less talking. More moving."
They bolted across the rooftop. Elion nearly slipped on a mossy patch. Jordan tripped on a loose tile and faceplanted into a laundry basket.
"Not a word," Jordan muttered, his voice muffled from inside someone's gym shorts.
And then came the gap. Fifty feet of empty space between buildings. A jump that would break world records, if anyone were around to witness it. But for Elion and Jordan, it wasn't just impressive—it was expected. Both of them had unlocked their Third Mana Gate, and a jump like this was just part of the job now. The only thing holding them back was fear.
Elion glanced at the gap, his expression unreadable. "We'll make it."
Jordan stared at the void as if the abyss had stared back at him. "I'll haunt you if I don't."
"Jump," Ronan said, his voice casual, not even bothering to look their way.
"Encouraging," Jordan mumbled—and jumped.
Jordan launched himself off the edge, the gap yawning ahead. For a split second, he was weightless, his body suspended in midair. His mind screamed, I'm not going to make it. But the Third Mana Gate pulsed through him, pushing him forward, muscles straining, heart racing.
Just make it. Just make it.
The ground rushed up faster than he'd expected. His feet hit the other building with a jarring thud, and he yelped as he lost his balance, limbs flailing wildly.
"I saw my life flash before my eyes," he groaned, face first on the concrete. "Mostly takeout."
Ronan landed beside him, smooth as ever, not a sound made. He looked like gravity had simply agreed to let him down.
"I hate him," Jordan muttered.
"Save your breath," Ronan replied, eyes already scanning ahead. "We're not done."
They kept moving—over billboards, across rusted vents, weaving between clotheslines and old satellite dishes. The rooftops were their new sidewalks.
At one point, they passed a sunbathing grandma sipping sweet tea. She raised an eyebrow, stared them down, and lifted her phone.
Jordan waved. "Bonjour."
She didn't blink. Just tapped her screen.
"Go," Elion hissed, already moving.
They were halfway across the next rooftop when it happened.
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Elion slowed. "Did you hear tha—"
BOOM.
A metal figure crashed behind them, shattering rooftop tiles and scattering a storm of pigeons into the evening sky. Dust rolled in waves.
From the dust stepped a man in a black combat suit—sleek, tight to the frame, webbed with fine silver circuitry that pulsed faintly beneath the plating. The suit didn't clank. It didn't whir. It moved like it was part of him. Engineered not just for power—but for control.
The helmet split open with a hiss. Plates folded back.
Theo Ramirez.
No grin. No taunt. Just a calm nod, like this was scheduled.
"Elion Hayes. Jordan Walker." His gaze shifted. "And who are you... cowboy?"
"Wait a minute..." Elion's breath caught. That suit—it was almost identical to Ronan's.
Not just in shape. Not just in glow.
But, in feel, too.
Ronan said nothing. He didn't move. Didn't blink. But his eyes stayed locked on Theo's armor. And for the first time since Elion had met him, Ronan wasn't bored. He wasn't annoyed. He was... curious.
Jordan leaned close to Elion. "Who is this guy?"
"I don't know," Elion murmured, eyes narrowing. "But he's not normal."
Theo stepped forward, posture relaxed. "You two have been flagged as persons of interest. I'm here to bring you in."
Elion's hand twitched toward his ring instinctively. His instincts were screaming. The energy coming off Theo was different—calm, sharp, disciplined. And deep. Far deeper than the beast-men they'd faced.
He was like a mirror.
Jordan, still catching his breath from the rooftop sprints, glanced at Elion. "You're tensing up. That bad?"
"Third Mana Gate," Elion said quietly. "Same as us."
That snapped Jordan's head around. "Wait—didn't Ronan say none of us were supposed to know about that?"
"I said shouldn't, not wouldn't," Ronan muttered.
Then he turned to Theo, eyes narrowing. "So… who are you?"
Theo turned to Ronan. "This doesn't concern you."
Ronan's face remained unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, watching the suit—like a mechanic sizing up a machine no one was supposed to have. His voice came out even. Cold.
"Let's run. Don't waste time with this guy."
Elion blinked. "Wait—"
"Run."
Jordan didn't need convincing.
They burst into motion, speeding across the rooftop. Theo was on them instantly—no warning, no sound. He moved like liquid metal, flowing over vents and ledges as if gravity didn't apply. The silver lines across his suit shimmered with every shift, recalibrating in real-time.
Behind them, Ronan moved too—but not to help. He was observing. Calculating. He'd told them to run not for safety, but to test Theo's suit. To see how far the tech had come. How much the people behind Theo had poured into it.
"Faster!" Elion snapped.
"Define faster!" Jordan gasped, barely keeping pace.
Elion glanced back. Theo wasn't just chasing—he was closing. Every step felt sharper and more intentional. Not brute force. Not blind rage. This was someone trained.
They made the next jump by inches. Jordan nearly lost his footing. Theo landed effortlessly, crouched like a sprinter mid-stride, already surging forward.
Ronan stopped near the edge and narrowed his eyes as Theo's boots pulsed faintly with mana.
Absorption systems. Acceleration tech. The real deal.
But his expression didn't change.
Just one silent question flickered through his mind: Where did he get that suit?
Both Elion and Jordan dropped behind an old billboard. Jordan collapsed, panting.
"I'm retiring," he gasped. "I'm moving to Vermont. Gonna sell muffins."
Theo dropped above them. Quiet. Composed.
"You're dragging this out," he said. "Just come with me."
Ronan stepped forward, voice flat. "They're not going with you."
Theo's helmet locked back into place. "Then I'll bring you too."
He didn't hesitate. Since unlocking the Third Mana Gate, a surge of confidence had settled into him. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, tangible and real. Watching Elion and Jordan struggle, he was certain—he was stronger than them now.
The suit hissed, responding to his command, as Mana flared to life around him. His boots ignited, sending him hurtling forward with a force that almost felt too easy. His eyes locked onto the slowest target—Jordan. He didn't need to say a word. His actions would speak louder than any taunt ever could.
"Jordan!" Elion saw it happening—too fast to stop, too focused to miss.
Theo had picked his target and committed. His arm wound back, gauntlet glowing with compressed energy. Then—
BOOM.
Jordan didn't dodge. He planted. Their fists collided in a flash of sparks and mana shock, the impact cracking tiles beneath them. Theo's swing stopped short, his arm jolting with the force of Jordan's punch. He blinked—just a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Jordan growled. "Surprise?"
Theo stumbled half a step.
That was all Elion needed.
Theo never saw him move.
One moment—clear air. The next—Elion was behind him, Veil peeling away like mist, presence snapping back into reality. He was already mid-air, momentum wound tight.
BAM!
His heel crashed into Theo's ribs, the impact hard enough to make the silver circuitry on his suit flare and glitch. Theo grunted, stumbling sideways, armor plates grinding against each other.
"What the—" he gasped.
Elion landed in a crouch. Calm. Composed. Eyes sharp as blades. "You were looking the wrong way."
Theo steadied himself, breath sharp in his throat. His gaze flicked between Elion and Jordan—reading them again, this time with less arrogance.
Two hits. Two surprises.
They weren't just holding their own.
They were on his level.
He exhaled, more impressed than angry. "You two… you've opened Mana Gates, too?"
Neither of them answered. They didn't need to.
His thoughts were already pulling him back—to just a few hours ago.
The summons came.
Theo stood in the chamber, its chill colder than any battlefield he'd ever known. The silence stretched tight, a taut string pulled by the weight of rank and power. The walls pulsed faintly with mana-reactive shielding, a rhythmic thrum like the beat of a distant, ominous heart.
Theo didn't speak. He didn't need to.
At the far end of the room, his father, Admiral Leandro Ramirez, stood with his back to him, hands clasped behind him in a posture so commanding it felt carved from stone. He didn't move. Didn't have to. His presence filled the room like a stormfront—heavy, suffocating, absolute.
Theo could feel it in his chest, a tightness that constricted with every breath—a reminder of the man who didn't need to raise his voice to command an entire fleet.
Finally, the Admiral broke the silence, his voice cutting through the stillness, calm and clipped. "I know what's on your mind."
Theo remained silent, his gaze fixed on his father's rigid form.
"The beasts," Leandro continued, "the waves, the cities burning—you think it's enough to unify people. That if you kill enough monsters, someone might call you a hero."
He turned now. Slowly. The room seemed to tilt with the movement.
"But I want something else."
Theo's brow furrowed. "You told me this was a purge operation. Threat containment. Nothing personal."
Leandro's eyes locked onto his. "It wasn't personal. Until now."
Theo's jaw tightened. "So it is a grudge. Against the Cleaner's son."
A thin smile curved the Admiral's mouth—not warm. Not cruel. Just… exact. "You think I care about personal vendettas?"
"You tell me," Theo said flatly. "I've heard stories."
"You've heard whispers," Leandro corrected. "And even those should tell you this: the Cleaner's son is more dangerous than the beasts."
Theo blinked, almost scoffing. "Because of his bloodline?"
"Because of his potential," Leandro said, stepping forward now, voice low but sharp. "If he lives long enough to understand who he is—what he is—then we will have something worse than monsters on our hands. We'll have uncertainty. A wildcard."
Theo crossed his arms. "So what, you want me to put a leash on him? Or take him out?"
"I want you to find him," Leandro said. "And prove that you're stronger."
Theo arched a brow. "You're turning this into a pissing contest?"
"No," Leandro said coolly. "I'm giving you a test. You've opened your Third Mana Gate. You're on the edge of something greater. But potential means nothing unless it stands against something just as dangerous."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Kill him."
Theo's voice dropped. "And if I fail?"
"Then I chose wrong," Leandro said, without hesitation. "And you die."
A silence stretched between them.
Then Theo chuckled—dry and bitter. "Nice to know you're still the nurturing type."
Leandro didn't respond. He just watched his son with that same unreadable precision.
"You'll complete two missions at once," he said, stepping back into shadow. "Handle the beasts. And... find the Cleaner's son."
He paused—just long enough to let the words settle like dust.
"Besides…" he added, voice now laced with something colder. "Don't you want to rise in rank?"
Theo looked at him for a long moment.
Then he smirked. "You're not sending me to fight a threat."
He turned, heading for the door.
"You're sending me to fight your regret."