"That base serves no real purpose. Destroy it."
With a single thought from Seraphine, an immense surge of mental energy—channeled through her clone—instantly shot across tens of thousands of miles, flooding into the depths of the Frankenstein Company's Losngel City branch.
Buzz ~
Deep within the facility.
Seraphine’s Spiritual Projection, upon receiving the torrent of mental power, vibrated violently. Her form instantly shrank, becoming hazy, dematerializing into the vast expanse of shadow beneath her.
Just as her head began to dissolve into the darkness, she suddenly paused. Her gaze flicked toward the crystalline corpse Sawyer had left behind.
She murmured thoughtfully:
“Petrification of internal and external tissues… simultaneous absorption and conversion of kinetic and thermal energy… stored or redirected to reinforce molecular bonds throughout the body… or focused into high-energy laser discharge.
Simple in theory. But when paired with a regenerative superpower framework—and expanded through cloning technology—then fully transformed into Ether-Crystalline composition…
Hmm. Yes, this could evolve into a devastatingly powerful offensive-type combat body. Good. Send it to the Sapphire Research Institute.”
With that, Seraphine vanished completely into the shadow domain.
A moment later, Sawyer’s body was engulfed by a flashing Real Number Channel, disappearing from the scene without a trace.
And then—the enormous shadow blanketing the floor, sea surface, and walls of the underground harbor began to stir.
Rumble——
From the shadow domain erupted tens of thousands—no, hundreds of thousands—of massive, inky-black tendrils. Each one bristled with sharp drill-like tips, lashing out in every direction.
These monstrous tendrils thrashed and surged through the air, crackling with an ominous, low-frequency buzz. Swarms of them gathered into clusters and smashed upward toward the harbor’s reinforced ceiling.
BOOM!!!
The entire underground facility trembled violently.
Chunks of concrete, shattered slabs of bedrock, and twisted beams of rebar—each weighing thousands of tons—rained down in a torrent, crashing into the sea and platforms below with thunderous impacts. Craters and fractures opened across the floor like spiderwebs.
Hiss hiss hiss hiss… Hiss hiss hiss!!!
The air split with shrieking friction—sharp enough to tear through eardrums.
Within seconds, the massive ceiling spanning hundreds of thousands of square meters could no longer withstand the assault. It buckled, tore, and was violently shredded by the writhing storm of black tendrils.
And it didn’t stop.
Like the mythic beanstalk in Jack and the Beanstalk, the abyssal tentacles surged upward in a relentless tide.
In an instant, they covered the mere ten meters separating one layer of the base from the next, slamming into the ceiling above like a living battering ram.
Hiss hiss hiss——Sii!!!
CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK!!!
Friction screeched. Reinforced concrete cracked like dry bone.
In just seconds more, another entire level was obliterated.
And with each new layer they breached, the tentacles split—hundreds, thousands of finer whips branching outward—sweeping the floor like a black tidal wave.
Lab after lab, storage rooms, elevators, corridors—all were reduced to ruin.
The few remaining personnel who had taken cover never had the chance to scream.
They were shredded in an instant—reduced to crimson mist and ribbons of flesh by the relentless onslaught of whip-like tendrils.
At the same time, every valuable component—superpower modules, experimental data, precision instruments—was meticulously identified by Seraphine’s vast spiritual awareness.
They were consumed by flashing Real Number Channels and transmitted directly to the Sapphire Research Institute in distant Emberlight.
Just like that—
The Losngel City underground base, once the pride of Frankenstein Company and a monument to incalculable investment, was being dismantled piece by piece, floor by floor, without mercy.
And Seraphine was steadily moving closer to the surface.
Until finally…
...
Several kilometers away from the base, on the surface, disguised as nothing more than an ordinary farm.
Clang clang clang!!
The ground trembled as dozens of olive-drab IFVs and heavy tanks thundered forward in formation.
Thud thud thud thud thud!!
Above, the piercing roar of rotors split the air—over a dozen Apache attack helicopters rose with the morning sun, cutting low across the sky in a tight vanguard.
Inside one of the trailing Apaches, Simian Ntuo held a comms device close to his mouth, speaking gravely.
“Based on the combined ‘reconnaissance’ from the organization’s precogs and psychometrics, Abram is confirmed to be under the control of an unknown external psychic. Sawyer, Sorren, and Anthony are all presumed KIA.”
Simian listened to the faint voice on the other end of the line, then asked coldly:
“Any idea who pulled the strings?”
Flander, on the other end, paused for a moment before replying:
“We deployed three Prognosticators and three Psychics… all of them are dead. Brain rupture. Not a single usable clue left behind.”
“Hoo ~”
Simian clicked his tongue with a smirk. “That’s pretty damn brutal. What’s the Boss thinking? Could it be… 【The Secret Society】?”
“Unlikely.”
Flander’s voice was flat. “They’ve been a little more active lately due to the 【Primis Outbreak】, sure—but aside from orchestrating mass sacrifices, they’re still holed up tight. It’s rare to see them anywhere outside of Eliondra.”
“Hmph… So what’s the Boss’s guess, then?”
“Seraphine. The heir of Emberlight. The Boss is planning a personal trip to investigate her true nature.”
“What?!”
Simian’s face twisted in discomfort. He hesitated, then asked nervously:
“Wait, you’re telling me... she’s behind this? So does that mean I’ll be running into her? What about me?!”
“Relax.”
Flander’s tone softened into something almost reassuring. “Trust me—no one actually wants to meet her. Our Emberlight agents have been monitoring her movements nonstop. She’s still holed up in that cursed lab of hers. Not going anywhere. You’re safe.”
“Phew ~”
Simian let out a long whistle and chuckled. “Damn, you almost gave me a heart attack. Alright, got it. I’ll wrap this mission up with a bow on it.”
“Good.”
Flander’s voice shifted back to business. “Recover as much of our tech data and component stock as you can. If recovery’s not possible, destroy everything on-site.
Also, just a heads-up—the Emberlight heir used some kind of remote method to enhance Abram’s powers. Be careful.
That said, if you do encounter Abram, don’t hesitate. Other orgs might shy away from pissing off Seraphine, but our Boss doesn’t give a damn.
And don’t forget—this is Beaconreach, not Emberlight. No matter how unhinged she might be, even she has to respect the international balance.”
“I know, I know.”
Simian shook his head, tone filled with disdain.
“That Abram’s ability type is garbage—genuinely an embarrassment to Hexagram. Even with a boost, it’s nothing special. I’ll handle it.”
“I am a Purgatory Star, after all.”
“That’s it for now. We’ll talk after I’ve had my afternoon tea.”
“Okay.”
Flander chuckled faintly. “Then I’ll see you at Base B12.”
Click ~
The phone cut off.
At Base B12.
Flander casually placed the comms unit down.
Not far off, Cedric gave a low chuckle. “You sure are busy.”
The words carried a thin layer of sarcasm.
Flander shrugged, smiling lightly.
“What can I say? I’m the head of security for the entire company. A lot of loose ends to tie up—staying busy’s part of the job.”
At that moment, Hestan—standing stiffly to Cedric’s right with a frozen expression—finally spoke:
“I don’t care what you’re dealing with. When the hell is Monroe arriving? My patience has limits...”
Cedric gave Hestan a quick tug, then turned to Flander with a wide, practiced smile and spoke in a low, cordial tone:
"Before we came, we already informed your organization of our intentions—and you agreed. So why, even now, is Mr. Monroe still playing hard to get? After all this time, he refuses to meet with us. That’s hardly what one would call proper hospitality..."
"One moment, please."
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Flander raised a hand to cut him off, turned back to his desk, and retrieved a sleek black Pad from the drawer.
He tapped on it several times. Then, with a subtle, cryptic smile, he turned the screen toward the two princes.
Both men leaned in, brows furrowing as lines of Emberlight script scrolled rapidly across the screen.
"This is..."
The words came slowly. They scanned the text again, eyes widening.
Every line—every sentence—perfectly recorded everything they had said since arriving in Beaconreach.
From the hollow pleasantries when they first stepped off the aircraft, to their meetings with executives from Frankenstein Company, even down to the confidential whispers exchanged between themselves—their private scheming, political maneuvering, and shadowy deals.
Not a single word was missing. It was flawless.
And worse...
The Pad didn’t just reflect their past—it predicted them.
Their next lines.
Their intentions.
Their ultimate goal.
—— To manipulate Monroe Holmes into eliminating Seraphine.
And afterward, they would work together to court the elite—nobles, oligarchs, conglomerate heads, and even elements within the military—to engineer a rupture within Emberlight.
The price?
Everything.
Treaties that would strip them of sovereignty. Dark pacts that could never see the light of day.
Cedric and Hestan were prepared to do it all.
As long as Seraphine died.
As long as they could claim power.
As long as there was even the possibility of taking the throne—
They would sell their souls.
But when the last of the transcripts finished scrolling, new content appeared: page after page of cold, merciless evidence detailing the collapse of their political foothold.
Images. Documents. Analyses.
A brutal dissection of their current standing.
What they believed to be trump cards—what they thought they could offer—were revealed as hollow illusions.
All bluster. No substance.
And finally, a single, sharp line appeared on the screen:
【You two are not qualified to work with me】
"This... this..."
Cedric and Hestan felt the blood drain from their faces. The screen slowly faded to black, and they stared at it in numb silence.
What the hell was this?
Surveillance? Clairvoyance? Mind-reading?
Their thoughts spiraled, tangled in confusion and fear.
"Your Highnesses," Flander said calmly, slipping the Pad back into the drawer, "I believe the Boss’s position should now be clear."
He shook his head slightly. “Forgive my frankness, but your influence in Emberlight—while not entirely gone—is now a far cry from what it once was.”
He watched their blank, humiliated expressions and smiled inwardly.
Of course Flander knew what was really happening.
This was the result of his Boss activating her ability.
And that ability... was not prediction.
It was something far stranger.
Far more terrifying.
But there was no reason to explain any of that to these two foolish princes.
Instead, Flander offered a mild smile and said, “How about this—you two may continue your tour of the facility. When the Boss has finished handling her affairs, she’ll speak with you in due time.”
Cedric and Hestan exchanged a look.
A long sigh escaped from both.
And then, silently, they nodded.
A short while later—
The special forces unit led by Simian arrived at a small, seemingly unremarkable farm atop the Losngel City base.
Thud thud thud thud thud!!
The rotors stirred the air violently as Simian’s helicopter descended, kicking up waves of dust and grit.
He stepped down from the cockpit, boots hitting the ground with a dull thump.
"Attention!"
Simian barked into his terminal, eyes scanning the surroundings. "All units halt. Hold position and await further orders. Prepare to—"
He didn’t get to finish.
The peaceful farmland before them suddenly lurched.
BOOM!!!
With a thunderous roar, a massive object—dozens of meters across—erupted from beneath the earth. It tore through the farmland, obliterating buildings and trees alike as it surged skyward.
A black monolith.
A living colossus.
It soared upward, hundreds of meters into the sky.
A towering, obsidian-scaled serpent.
Simian stared.
Jaw slack.
“What... what the hell is that?”
Staring at the colossal black serpent—larger than a skyscraper, yet clearly constructed from something other than flesh and scale—Simian gasped in disbelief.
"This… isn’t that Abram’s shadow-mimicked form?! How did it get this massive?! Flander mentioned a level-up… but this is absurd!"
Before he could process the thought, the entire farm was plunged into darkness.
Buzz——
Centered on the towering serpent, a vast pitch-black tide suddenly surged outward in a perfect 360-degree wave, sweeping across the land like a silent apocalypse.
In a blink, the black tide blitzed past Simian’s position at lightning speed, consuming every patch of ground within his line of sight—and far beyond.
From above, a breathtaking image unfolded.
A massive obsidian circle was expanding outward across the earth, widening with each passing second.
Spreading over hills and fields alike.
Engulfing the landscape.
“Huh?!”
Simian's eyes flared in panic. In an instant, his entire body erupted into searing flame, glowing crimson like a walking inferno.
At nearly ten thousand degrees Celsius, the air around him distorted, superheated, and screamed with blistering updrafts.
He lifted his gaze toward the towering black monolith several hundred meters away—gritting his teeth.
“Abram... I’m not some third-rate trash like Sawyer or Anthony. Whatever you throw at me—kinetic, thermal, electric—I’ll only grow stronger!”
“Simian Ntuo...”
A low, cold voice—metallic and heavy—suddenly echoed across the battlefield.
Its sheer volume caused tanks and armored carriers nearby to shudder.
Simian froze mid-step, flames still roaring across his skin, eyes darting as he searched the landscape in disbelief.
“W-What the hell was that?!”
The voice returned, louder, deeper—like the voice of an ancient god rousing from slumber.
“Your heart... is a living nuclear fusion core. Fascinating.”
“I imagine the only reason you can harness and regulate such volatile energy… is because of that heart.”
“Shit...!”
Simian’s expression twisted with dread.
The voice—it was coming from the serpent.
And the serpent wasn’t speaking with anger… but curiosity.
A scientist’s cold intrigue.
As if it might rip out his chest at any moment to take a closer look.
Without hesitation, Simian vaulted backward, retreating several dozen meters behind the tank battalion. Raising one arm, he barked into his comms:
“Everyone—fire!! Blast it apart!!”
In an instant, the air filled with thunder and flame.
Machine guns, autocannons, rockets, mortars—an entire orchestra of firepower launched from Apaches, tanks, and IFVs—converging into one cataclysmic barrage aimed at the serpent’s towering head.
Clatter-clatter-clatter ~~~
Rattle-rattle-rattle ~~
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
Explosions lit up the desert like a festival of chaos. For several kilometers, the ground quaked under the sheer volume of noise and recoil.
But—
“Completely meaningless.”
The assault did nothing.
Not a single bullet, shell, or blast had any effect on the towering black serpent.
The projectiles passed clean through it.
As though it were a hologram.
As though it were never there to begin with.
Then, without warning—
All around the military convoy, dozens—no, hundreds—of massive serpents erupted from the pitch-black terrain.
Each one towering and thick, like obsidian pillars rising from the abyss.
And these… these were just the ones they could see.
Far beyond Simian’s line of sight, over the mountains and across the blackened plains—
More.
Hundreds. Thousands.
A storm of serpents.
They slithered from the deep, as if the mythical beasts of old had emerged from some ancient prison beneath the earth.
Even Flander, observing everything from orbit via an advanced artificial satellite, couldn’t conceal his shock.
And yet—
No one knew the truth.
These serpents… were just toys.
Conjured from nothing.
Constructs, born from shadow.
Seraphine’s test.
A playground for her evolving shadow-manifestation ability.
In contrast, when the Shadow Domain manifests physical entities, the “raw material” consumed doesn’t come from the real world.
Instead, it draws from the Sentience Realm—a dimension composed not of matter or energy as we understand them, but of a peculiar, indefinable force. Fundamentally inexhaustible.
What determines how much of this power can enter the real world?
It’s entirely dictated by the scale of the gate—the passage that connects the Shadow Domain to the Sentience Realm.
“Ugh… ugh…”
Simian raised his head, eyes wide with disbelief, as more and more inky-black serpents—massive, slow-moving behemoths—emerged from the ground around him. For a fleeting moment, his thoughts went completely blank.
Across the battlefield, soldiers aboard tanks and helicopters halted their fire, just as stunned.
Then—
"You said you could absorb all forms of energy."
All the shadow serpents froze.
They turned in unison—heads tilting, bodies coiling, obsidian scales glinting under no light at all. One by one, their monstrous mouths opened.
Their voices boomed in unison, shaking heaven and earth.
"So what about mental power?"
Simian’s spine locked up.
He jerked his head upward and roared:
"You—what are you?! Abram isn’t this strong! What the hell do you want?!"
“Ah.”
The serpent’s voice curled with amusement.
"You broke free of thought-inertia that fast? Impressive."
And without further warning, one of the nearby serpents focused both its abyssal pupils on him—unleashing a concentrated beam of mental force.
It bypassed his body temperature. It ignored his energy absorption abilities.
It struck directly into him.
Straight through flesh, bone, and soul.
“Ugh!!”
Simian’s muscles snapped taut. He felt it instantly—like thousands, tens of thousands, millions of white-hot steel needles driving through every cell of his being.
And then came the pain.
Indescribable. Total.
Waves of agony radiated from every organ, every nerve, every square inch of skin.
"AAAAAHHHH!!"
His scream ripped from his throat as his body spontaneously erupted—vomiting gouts of crimson fire as thick as tree limbs. The flames spiraled wildly, incinerating the tanks and armored vehicles closest to him.
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
Several IFVs exploded in an instant.
Blinded by pain, Simian spun and lashed out at everything—friend or foe.
Fire streamed from his mouth, his eyes, his pores, tearing into the sky like solar flares. Apache helicopters tried to retreat, but were blasted from the air like toys.
Within seconds, over half of them were downed—reduced to wreckage scattered across the burning desert.
Nearly half the armored ground units were turned into blackened, molten scrap.
"AHHHH!! AHHHHHHHH!!"
He had become a walking weapon of mass destruction.
But to Simian, it felt like he had descended into some twisted, eternal Hell.
His skin screamed.
His muscles screamed.
Even his brain screamed.
"AHHHH!!"
Eyes blazing like twin suns, Simian staggered and fell, shaking violently as his knees hit the ground.
His power should have made him unstoppable.
He could absorb energy, transform it into high-temperature flame, and regenerate endlessly.
He was supposed to be immortal. Untouchable.
But now—he begged for his powers to stop working.
Because this agony was too much.
His body was caught in an endless loop of destruction and restoration.
His soul was unraveling.
But his instinct to survive wouldn't let him deactivate his ability.
And then—his forehead bulged grotesquely.
That mental force… it was running wild inside his skull.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Suddenly, his chest buckled inward.
With a sickening crunch, it shattered—and from deep inside, a glowing, flickering heart was ripped free by an unseen force.
It floated briefly in the air.
And then—vanished—swallowed whole by an invisible Real Number Channel.
"AHHHH! MY HEART! MY HEART!!"
Simian collapsed at last, wailing in despair, clawing at the ground with charred fingers.
The boundless energy Simian had accumulated over countless years—compressed, honed, refined within his body—
Was now unanchored.
With the loss of his nuclear fusion heart, his inner core destabilized.
And in the next instant—
It detonated.
BOOM!!!!!
BOOM!!!
As if a Fuel-Air Bomb had ignited in the heart of the desert.
The nearest IFVs and heavy tanks were disintegrated on the spot—engulfed in searing fire and debris.
The last remaining helicopters in the air buckled from shockwaves, twisted mid-flight, then spiraled into the ground one after another in plumes of wreckage.
Farther out, over a dozen armored vehicles and tanks were hurled by the blast wave—flipping through the air, slamming sideways into the cracked earth, flung like toys across the chaos-ravaged plain.
In mere seconds, over half the task force was obliterated.
Far away, deep within the Loski Mountains—
Inside Base B12, Flander stood grim-faced in a tailored suit and polished shoes, arms crossed as he stared at the satellite feed.
He’d witnessed it all—Simian’s destruction, the serpent's advance, the black tide swallowing the land.
And he could do nothing.
“Damn it!” he growled through clenched teeth. “What the hell is happening out there?!”
Behind him, Cedric and Hestan stood stiffly, brows furrowed as they watched the display unfold.
Then—
Amidst the writhing tide of black serpents, atop the head of the largest one—
A figure materialized.
Not physical.
But unmistakably real.
A Spiritual Projection.
It was Seraphine.
Her spiritual power was so dense, so pure, that it breached the divide between dimensions—projecting her consciousness directly into physical space.
Even through a satellite feed, her face was visible.
Flander’s pupils shrank.
“Shit. It’s her!” he rasped, collapsing slowly into his seat.
“Seraphine... how?! How is she even there?!”
Behind him, Cedric and Hestan both went pale.
Hestan bit his lip and muttered, “Why the hell is she in Beaconreach?!”
Cedric shook his head slowly, eyes locked on the screen.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, “but this… this feels wrong.”
Out in the blackened wilderness—
Seraphine’s voice whispered through her projection:
“Twenty kilometers. That’s the current coverage limit of the Shadow Domain... or perhaps the gate itself.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“In that case—let’s test what this domain is really capable of.”
And with that, the projection vanished from atop the serpent’s head.
The moment it disappeared—
Everything moved.
Tens of thousands of colossal black serpents trembled, then surged forward toward the center point Seraphine had vacated.
From above, it looked like a planetary-scale tide folding in on itself.
The ground began to quake.
BOOM—RUMBLE—BOOM—RUMBLE!
The serpents gathered, colliding, twisting—solidifying into a single monolithic mass.
A mountain of shadows.
And then it began to change.
Indenting. Compressing. Carving itself into intricate layers. Twisting, segmenting, shaping—
Until the black mountain restructured into a massive, hyper-detailed mechanical master component.
This component alone was larger than a skyscraper—and it was only one piece of the machine.
All around it, near-trillion-count tendrils whipped through the air, dragging in similar components the size of villas.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
One after another, enormous parts smashed into place—gears, pistons, valves, springs, rotating cores—assembling with almost divine precision.
And as the black earth trembled beneath it, the machine began to take form.
A towering, surreal structure emerged from the desert floor—
A colossal, long-barreled weapon.
Inside Base B12, Flander and the two Emberlight princes stared in stunned silence as the live feed zoomed out to reveal the entire construct.
Their expressions twisted in disbelief.
There it stood—reaching five, maybe six thousand meters high—its segmented body supported by dozens of spiral pillars, rising like the skeleton of a god.
And unmistakably—
Its structure resembled an enormous, widened Barrett sniper rifle.
Just… scaled up a thousandfold.
An impossibly large barrel. A magazine like a tower block. A muzzle over a kilometer wide.
A sniper rifle fit for a Titan.
