White light spreads outward.

  It flows like a silent tide, swallowing the gray streets of Antara until the world dissolves into a pale, endless brightness.

  For a long moment, there is nothing but white.

  Then the light settles.

  A quiet street emerges from the haze.

  Warm sunlight spills across the pavement.

  People stroll past small storefronts.

  A pair of lovers walk hand in hand.

  Somewhere nearby, laughter rises—soft, careless, and alive.

  The scent of fresh bread drifts through the air.

  The Alligator stands in the center of the road.

  His black coat is still stained with drying blood.

  Against this peaceful world, he looks like a jagged shadow.

  He watches the scene with distant eyes.

  “So this is Sonia’s world,” he murmurs.

  “Interesting… she grew up in the West.”

  The moment the words leave his lips, reality shifts.

  The street stretches.

  Buildings twist.

  The sky bends like glass under pressure.

  Suddenly, the world yanks him forward.

  The ground disappears as he is dragged through space at a blinding speed.

  Then—everything stops.

  He stands inside a small house.

  The air is thick and stale.

  The smell of damp wood lingers.

  Silence presses in from every corner.

  A little girl stands near a wooden table.

  Her shoulders tremble.

  Tears carve thin lines through the soot on her cheeks before dripping onto the floorboards.

  The Alligator walks toward her.

  He kneels, his shadow falling across her small frame.

  “Little one,” he says softly. “What makes you cry?”

  The girl lifts her head.

  Her eyes are wide and glassy. “I’m hungry… sir.”

  The Alligator studies her.

  For a brief moment, he reaches out.

  But his fingers dissolve into white mist.

  The house melts away.

  The Alligator now stands in a vast white hall.

  Endless space stretches in every direction.

  Before him floats a massive mirror.

  Its surface ripples like liquid silver.

  Within the reflection, the small house appears again.

  The door bursts open.

  A man storms inside, smelling of sour alcohol.

  Without hesitation, his boot slams into the girl’s stomach.

  The impact echoes through the room.

  The girl collapses.

  Air bursts from her lungs in a harsh wheeze as she curls on the floor.

  “Shut up, you swine!” the man snarls. “Crying all day like a worm.”

  His boot crashes down again.

  Thud.

  Outside the mirror, the Alligator watches.

  His jaw tightens. “I see… Villains are not born. They are made.”

  “My reality was hell,” a voice answers from behind him.

  The Alligator turns.

  Sonia steps out of the white mist.

  Her eyes remain fixed on the mirror.

  Her expression is carved from cold stone.

  She moves to stand beside him.

  The reflection shifts.

  Another memory forms.

  A dining table sits beneath a dim lamp.

  Sonia’s parents sit across from two children.

  Little Sonia and a younger boy, Clay.

  The room feels unnaturally cold.

  “Life was a nightmare,” Sonia says quietly.

  “Even the devil would protest if he lived the life I did.”

  Inside the glass, Sonia’s father grips his wife’s hand.

  His eyes shine with feverish excitement.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I’m so glad Clay is a receiver,” he whispers.

  “After the fall of the legends,” Sonia continues, “my grandfather died.

  He left his blade to my father.

  But my father never wanted a normal child.”

  The Alligator glances at her.

  “Was your grandfather a receiver?”

  “No. He was neither a receiver nor an amplifier. Just a legend."

  Her gaze returns to the mirror.

  “My father only wanted a receiver… someone who could wield the legend-class steel without resistance.”

  Within the memory, Sonia’s mother smiles at the young boy.

  “Finally. God has answered our prayers.”

  Her eyes drift toward little Sonia.

  The smile vanishes. “Clay is the child we were waiting for… not that outsider.”

  Sonia exhales.

  “Yes. I was the outsider. The cursed child.”

  Years pass in a blur within the silver glass.

  Clay stands in the center of the house.

  He raises the sword high. White light pours from his eyes, casting long shadows.

  Family members crowd around him, clapping and cheering.

  “A legend-class fighter is born!”

  The house erupts in celebration.

  But upstairs, in a small locked room—little Sonia sits alone in the dark.

  Downstairs, her father leans close to his wife. “You locked the door tight, right? Sonia won’t come down and ruin this.”

  The mother smiles. “Of course. That cursed child will stay where she belongs.”

  The memory shifts again. Clay, now eleven, grips the sword and swings it. Playing.

  His body begins to shake.

  Snap.

  A bone breaks.

  Clay screams.

  Blood drips onto the floor.

  Hot.

  Red.

  His parents rush toward him. “My child! What’s happening?!”

  The scene flickers.

  Hospital corridors blur past.

  Machines beep steadily.

  Then—silence.

  Clay sits in a wheelchair.

  His legs hang uselessly.

  “Two years later,” Sonia says quietly, “Clay died.”

  Inside the memory, the family gathers for the funeral.

  Sonia’s father stands apart.

  Broken.

  Then the rage returns.

  He smashes a chair against the wall.

  Wood splinters explode.

  “My father was disgraced. And all his hatred fell on me.”

  Within the memory, his boot slams into Sonia’s stomach. “Why wasn’t it you who died instead?!”

  But something changes.

  Little Sonia stands.

  She does not cry.

  Her eyes are cold.

  Her father stumbles back, startled.

  She runs.

  She bursts into the forbidden room.

  Her fingers close around the sword.

  The air trembles.

  A thunderous tiger roar shakes the house.

  Windows crack.

  Her father freezes.

  His eyes bulge.

  “It accepted her…” He drops to his knees.

  His face twists into a grotesque smile. “She’s the precious child! Finally… the gift I wanted!”

  Sonia’s mother rushes in.

  Another roar erupts.

  The sound slams into them like a physical force.

  Both parents collapse.

  Little Sonia lowers the sword.

  She turns and walks out of the house.

  “I left. I didn’t know where I was going. I just kept walking.”

  Eventually, she reaches a massive iron gate.

  A sign hangs above: THE HOUSE OF SYMBIAN.

  Guards surround her, weapons ready.

  But an elderly man steps forward.

  He sees the sword.

  He reaches for it, and the image of a snarling tiger flashes across the blade.

  He jerks his hand back. “Young lady. What brought you here?”

  Sonia’s eyes burn with quiet fury.

  “Train me. I want to become a fighter.”

  Years pass. The reflection shifts once more. Sonia stands in a dark uniform.

  Twenty-five years old. A Captain of the House of Symbian.

  "I returned home,” she says.

  Her parents sit inside, laughing over tea. The door bursts open.

  They look up, shock spreading across their faces.

  “My daughter!” Her father rushes forward. “We must celebrate! A warrior! You’ve blessed this family!”

  Sonia stands perfectly still.

  Her grip tightens on the sword.

  One motion.

  A single clean arc.

  Slash.

  Blood splashes across the floral wallpaper.

  Silence follows.

  “I killed them both. I hunted down every member of the Simon bloodline. To them, I was never family. I was a product. A weapon.”

  The reflection fades. The white void returns.

  The Alligator studies her. “Sonia. You were never a product. You were a girl who paid a price you never should have.”

  Sonia presses a hand to her chest.

  A strange, stinging warmth spreads through her ribs.

  “So this is your power…” she whispers, looking at the endless white.

  “Alligator’s Paradox. It doesn’t kill. It forces the truth into the light. A weapon of destruction that brings clarity. A true contradiction."

  She looks at him, her eyes searching. “What kind of man are you?”

  The Alligator chuckles. “A man who believes in order.”

  Sonia watches him. “You have quite the reputation in Centre City. The legal enforcer. The man who hunts criminals and turns their bounties over to human rights groups.”

  He chuckles again, a weary sound.

  Sonia laughs bitterly, the sound jagged in the quiet void. “You think redemption is easy? I’ve gone too far. Quit what you're doing, and kill me instead."

  The Alligator raises his hand. Another mirror appears.

  It shows Sonia in a bright room, wearing a red dress.

  Music fills the air.

  Friends surround her, laughing.

  Someone hands her a bottle of champagne.

  The cork pops.

  Everyone cheers.

  Tears track through the dirt on Sonia’s face.

  “All you ever wanted,” the Alligator says softly, “was a normal life. But the world convinced you that the dream was already dead.”

  She wipes her eyes angrily, her breath hitching. “Then prove it! Can you prove that someone like me can still find peace?!”

  She shakes her head, her voice cracking. "There's no way. Just quit this mind hunting and kill me instead.

  You won the battle. Why are you trying to make me vulnerable?"

  The Alligator's brows furrows. “There is something you don’t know, Sonia… nobody enters the Alligator’s Paradox without being convinced.”

  "I see no conviction here. Just a power designed to break me."

  The Alligator opens his palm. Sonia's image appears. The same with the one she saw from the mirror.

  “I am not here to break you. I am here to convince you."

  The Sonia in his palm is smiling, laughing with joy.

  "The main goal here is not if I can prove anything," he says, his voice steady. "What matters is what you want."

  Sonia’s fist folds, her knuckles turning white.

  He folds his hand. The image resolves.

  "Answer this question," he commands. "If you had the chance to live that life… would you take it?”

  The silence stretches, heavy and thick. Finally, she nods. “Yes.”

  “Then fight for it. Join me. Let’s bleed for a better world.”

  Her eyes widen, the light of the Paradox reflecting in her pupils. "You'll recruit me instead? I thought.. I.."

  The Alligator cuts through her doubt. "I am not a mindless killer. I am for a greater impact. We both carry scars. Having you join me will do good for the greater impact—fighting a greater evil like Silas."

  Sonia’s knees hit the white pavement.

  Thud.

  She sobs, the sound raw and guttural.

  The Alligator watches her silently.

  Turns out she's just a woman, lost in a valley of sadness, he thinks. I'm glad I could make her see the light.

  MERCURY'S HIDEOUT.

  Paloma slams her palm into a wall.

  “Fuck… where is the boss?!”

  The door bursts open.

  The Alligator walks in.

  Paloma rises. “Boss, what happened? Where's everyone?”

  “They’re fine, Paloma. I sent them South. You stay with me. I'll protect you from your family.”

  Nina walks forward.

  The Alligator places his hand on her shoulder. “Nina, you're free. Johnny needs you. Go.”

  Nina nods and fades into thin air.

  “Now Paloma, say hello to our new member.”

  Sonia solidifies from the shadows.

  Paloma’s eyes widen. “Lady Sonia?!”

  Sonia smiles. “Hello, Paloma. I see you’re doing well.”

  Paloma shakes her head. “Boss, how can you prove this isn't a trap?”

  Sonia steps forward. “Silas is your target, correct?”

  “Of course,” the Alligator replies.

  “The Warlords are meeting in Silas’s territory right now,” Sonia says.

  “Silas is absent, but his pillars are there, discussing politics. If we want Silas, we send a message. We wound his pillars. We draw him out by killing his Warlords. Watch me.”

  She vanishes.

  SILAS’S TERRITORY — EAS

  In a large hall, the faction sits at a round table.

  “The Adviser snarls. “ This is more complicated than we thought. Centre City has formidable fighters.”

  “We need King Silas,” King Pin says.

  “He's not here,” the Adviser replies.

  "Said in his letter that he would return the week after now."

  He leans forward. "And also, that Venus fool sent a letter. He’s gone to his own territory. Says he’s satisfied after the massacre at New Sage.”

  Suddenly, a pair of boots land on the table.

  Crack.

  Sonia stands there, her presence turning the room cold.

  The Adviser grins. “Lady Sonia… what brings you here?”

  She curls her lips. “A message from the Alligator. You all die.”

  She draws her sword. “Fatality Claw: Seventh Stand!”

  HOLY LAND — CENTRE CITY

  Faraway, masked figures stand in a circle.

  Numbers are marked on their masks.

  One faces the crowd. On his mask: 001.

  “The cities are being ruined. The Legends are back.” He tightens his fist.

  “They are the reason our world was turned to ash. Now they have returned, and civilians are being caught in the chaos. The town of Antara was just destroyed.”

  A hand raises.

  “Speak, 005.”

  “I heard some of the Legends arrived from the North.”

  001 continues. “The North? The only place we didn't fight during the Days of Legends. That massive Empire… if they are causing trouble across other territories, we have no choice. From now on, we stay observant and fight off any Legends we see. We kill them all.”

  008 raises a hand. “But boss. If we kill a legend from the North, it will be a problem.”

  “If the North keeps sending monsters across other territories we fight,” 001 says.

  “And remember, our organization, the Secret Society—will protect us.”

  They vanish into thin air.