Jian Xing stood motionless in the center of the hall, his hands forming a complex gesture, his gaze growing more intense. The air around him rippled, and a red aura began emanating from his body, spreading across the floor like molten mist. In an instant, a powerful, translucent figure emerged from behind him—a spiritual guide in the form of a Chinese dragon.

  The dragon, its scales shimmering like liquid lava, rose above the heads of the gathered crowd, its body undulating gracefully in the air. It was long, mighty, and each of its movements inspired subconscious fear and reverence. Its eyes, glowing with intense red light, seemed to pierce through anyone daring to look at it. With every motion, streaks of energy trailed behind it, like embers left in the air.

  People stared in stunned silence—many of them witnessing the true power of the Awakened for the first time.

  But there was no time for admiration. The dragon, guided by Jian’s will, suddenly lunged into the crowd, its body stretching unnaturally. In an instant, it swallowed the possessed individuals into itself. Screams filled the air.

  Adam, still weakened from his confrontation with the Guslar, knew what this meant. "Damn it..." he whispered, struggling to his feet. He knew what would happen to the possessed.

  Kayode acted without hesitation. He summoned his spiritual weapon—translucent yellow boots. He darted between the guests like a lightning bolt, leaving behind electric discharges. There was no time to think—two people stood too close to the dragon, unaware of the impending disaster. Kayode grabbed them by the shoulders and, in the blink of an eye, pulled them to safety.

  The crowd froze in place. What happened next was like something out of a nightmare.

  The possessed, trapped inside the dragon, began to scream, their bodies contorting in unnatural positions. Their eyes rolled back, and black liquid dripped from their mouths. Suddenly, the dragon trembled violently as if something inside it had exploded. In an instant, a blinding red light flashed, and then...

  BOOM!

  The dragon burst apart from within. A wave of energy erupted from its core, scattering the bloody remains of the possessed. A chorus of despair filled the hall. People collapsed to their knees, some clutching their heads, others crying out the names of their loved ones. One woman fell to the floor, sobbing as she realized her son had been one of the possessed.

  But the dragon did not disappear.

  Like a shadow, it reassembled itself, its body reforming once more, then silently returned to Jian, as if nothing had happened. Jian opened his eyes and looked at the crowd.

  "This is not the end," he said coldly, showing no emotion.

  Chaos ruled the hall. Several people were injured, some had fainted from terror after what they had just witnessed. Blood, shredded bodies, the spiritual dragon reforming itself—for ordinary people, it was too much. Sobs echoed from different corners, and some still couldn’t tear their eyes away from the blood splattered across the floor.

  Then, as if from another world, she appeared.

  The newcomer stepped into the hall with a light, almost dance-like step. She was around thirty years old, her medium-length, slightly curled hair loosely tied back, with a few strands falling over her face. Her lavender eyes glowed with an intense light, drawing everyone’s attention. She was Veronica Szymborska, the general of the medical division.

  Ignoring the chaos around her, she approached the wounded Adam, who was sitting against the wall, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell with difficulty—two gunshot wounds making their presence known. His clothes were soaked in blood, and his face showed a mix of pain and stubborn determination.

  Veronica knelt beside him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were cool but soothing. She leaned in so close that her warm breath brushed against his ear.

  "I see you need my help, darling," she whispered with a playful smile.

  Despite the pain, Adam immediately felt his face heat up. He inhaled sharply before muttering, turning his gaze away, "What took you so long to get here?"

  The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reaction.

  "I came as fast as I could, love. I read your message and left immediately, but even I can’t be everywhere at once."

  Without waiting for further complaints, she stretched out her hand, and lavender energy shimmered around it. In an instant, her spiritual weapon appeared—a massive syringe in the same shade as her eyes. Without hesitation, she plunged the needle into Adam’s arm, and a violet liquid flowed into his veins.

  It worked almost instantly. His wounds began to close, and the pain, which had seemed unbearable moments ago, suddenly vanished. Adam took a deep breath and looked at Veronica with a mix of gratitude and mild irritation.

  "Next time, move faster."

  "Only if you ask nicely," she replied teasingly, winking at him.

  But Adam wasn’t the only one injured in the room. The entire hall was full of people in shock, terrified and bleeding. Veronica sighed, straightened up, and cast a glance over the panicked guests.

  "So much suffering... time to put an end to it."

  She raised her hands, and long, violet roots began to grow from her body. They coiled around her, pulsing with life, before suddenly shooting forward, piercing into the floor at the center of the hall. Something extraordinary began to happen.

  From the ground, a plant emerged—a violet, beautifully scented lavender.

  It was no ordinary flower. It was her spiritual guide, a being of remarkable abilities. People stared at it with a mix of fear and awe, but soon, they felt something change.

  The lavender released a delicate, sweet scent that filled their lungs, instantly calming their minds. The fear slowly faded away. The terrified guests began to breathe more steadily, their tense muscles relaxing.

  But that wasn’t all. A nearly invisible mist rose from the flowers, settling over the wounded. Cuts healed, pain faded, bruises lightened. People looked at each other in astonishment, unable to believe they had been in agony just seconds ago.

  Veronica surveyed her work and smiled with satisfaction.

  "How about now? Feeling a bit better?" she asked lightly, looking at the crowd.

  Those who had been on the verge of collapse now gazed at her with gratitude, hope gleaming in their eyes.

  Veronica Szymborska, general of the medical division and one of the most powerful healers in the world, had just restored peace to the hall.

  The calm didn’t last long, as Archbishop Matthew burst into the ruined hall with a loud crash. He was exhausted—his breath shallow and ragged, his habit covered in sweat and dust. It was clear he had run here as fast as he could. He scanned the room, then focused on Veronica and Adam.

  "I managed... I managed to get something out of Anastasia," he panted, bracing his hands on his knees. "But there’s little information... She just vanished in the middle of speaking."

  Veronica raised an eyebrow at him, a slight smile playing on her lips.

  "Oh, Matthew, darling, you look like you’re about to drop dead," she remarked with a hint of amusement, stepping closer.

  The man didn’t respond, only furrowed his brows, trying to catch his breath.

  "There, there, don’t make that face. Sit here, by the lavender," she added, gesturing toward her spiritual guide. "We wouldn’t want our brave archbishop collapsing, would we?"

  Without waiting for his protest, she gently pushed him toward the plant. Matthew sighed but obediently sat down, the soothing scent almost immediately beginning to calm him.

  On the other side of the hall, the atmosphere was much heavier.

  Maya stood frozen, staring at the woman she had wanted to avoid at all costs. Her mother—a tall woman with a cold gaze—stepped closer, her disapproval evident.

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  "Useless," she said, the word falling from her lips like a sentence.

  Maya clenched her fists but didn’t respond. She felt her stomach twist with shame and anger, though she refused to let it show on her face. Any sign of weakness would only humiliate her further.

  Anna, who had been helping the wounded, noticed the situation. Frowning, she stepped closer, unable to stand by any longer.

  "Stop it! Maya is not useless!" she said firmly.

  Maya turned to her instantly, her gaze icy.

  "This isn’t your business, Anna," her voice was sharp, but it trembled slightly.

  Meanwhile, Isaac stood beside Kayode, watching him with admiration.

  "Nice work," he said suddenly.

  Kayode looked at him, surprised, but after a moment, a small smile appeared on his face.

  "Just did what needed to be done."

  "Still, respect."

  They exchanged glances, not awkward but full of mutual understanding.

  Cornelius stood at a distance, observing everything unfolding around him.

  He was more confused than ever.

  What he had seen today had turned his entire worldview upside down.

  He felt an increasing need to talk to Matthew.

  He had to learn more.

  Nearby, among the shattered tables and traces of battle, Tommy, Lucy, and Makoto exchanged glances, trying to collect their thoughts.

  "What did we just go through?" Tommy swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses. "It was like a scene from a horror movie, but in real life…"

  Lucy hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the blood-stained floor. Her breath was shallow, and her eyes were wide with shock.

  "They… ended up just like the children from the House of Roses." Her voice trembled. "Torn apart from the inside, as if someone had used them and thrown them away. This can't be a coincidence… Someone is behind this."

  Makoto leaned his back against the wall, clenching his fists.

  "That wasn't even a fight. That was an execution."

  Tommy pondered for a moment before adding,

  "If this is all connected… then it means this is only the beginning."

  For a moment, none of them spoke. Soft sobs and nervous whispers still echoed around them, and the weight of what they had witnessed settled over them like a dark shadow.

  Meanwhile, the situation was slowly calming down.

  Emergency services had finally arrived and begun securing the area. Officers hurried among the wounded, assisting in evacuating those who needed medical care. Firefighters checked the stability of the building’s structure, while technicians documented the destruction.

  The noise of conversations and service announcements blended into one, but compared to the earlier chaos, it was almost a soothing sound.

  Although everything was gradually returning to normal, one thing was certain—what had happened would leave lasting scars in the minds of those who had experienced it.

  Suddenly, without any warning, energy swirled in the air. Like a rippling pulse through reality, three figures with unnaturally snow-white skin appeared. They materialized out of nowhere—no flash, no smoke, they were simply there, as if they had always been standing in that very spot.

  At the center stood a tall man. His long white hair was tied into a loose bun, and his face had no mouth. Instead, he had two pairs of eyes that moved independently, tracking every movement in the room. Additionally, two extra pairs of arms sprouted from his shoulders, hanging calmly at his sides.

  To his right stood a woman with equally white hair, tied into two low pigtails. The most grotesque feature about her was the row of jagged teeth that ran horizontally across her torso. With every breath she took, the teeth parted slightly, as if ready to tear apart anything that came too close.

  To his left was another woman, also with white hair tied back. Instead of eyes, she had two gaping mouths that moved slightly, as if they were hungrily gasping for air. Only below them were her actual eyes—two pairs, intensely scanning the surroundings. An additional eye was embedded in her throat, shifting restlessly as if analyzing everything happening in the hall.

  A deadly silence fell over the room. Some stared at the figures in horror, others in confusion, unsure if what they were seeing was just a product of their exhausted minds.

  And then the man spoke.

  His voice was loud, deep, filled with an eerie, inhuman harmony, as if multiple throats were speaking at once. Yet the sound did not come from his face—everyone quickly realized it was coming from behind him.

  As he turned his head slightly, it became clear—there was a mouth on the back of his skull.

  "What happened here is only the beginning."

  His words echoed through the hall, sending an unsettling chill through the gathered crowd.

  "There will be more victims. But they are sacrifices in a righteous cause. Thanks to them, the true God will descend upon the earth and end human suffering."

  This was not the ravings of a madman. There was something disturbingly calm about it, as if he genuinely believed every word he spoke.

  Everyone became aware of one thing—the situation looked grim.

  The three beings that had just appeared radiated power on the level of generals. Meanwhile, in the hall, there were only two exhausted generals—Matthew and Adam. Veronica, though incredibly skilled, was a healer, and Jian, though strong, might not have been able to handle three opponents at once.

  Tension rose.

  And then, two more people entered the hall—Prince Michael and Peter.

  The presence of these two figures drastically shifted the balance of power. Now, the fight seemed more even. Peter, who had earlier secured the king and ensured his safety, could now fully focus on the situation.

  The man with two pairs of arms spoke again:

  "My name is PainKiller."

  His tone did not change in the slightest. It was calm, methodical, almost melancholic.

  "What we do is the cure for all the world's suffering."

  After these words, he made a barely noticeable gesture with his hand.

  Suddenly, without warning, the body of the Guslar, which had been lying on the floor with a hole in its head just moments ago, simply vanished.

  In the next second, everyone saw that the woman standing to the left was holding it.

  "We did not come here to fight today," PainKiller added. "We only came for the body of our brother. But soon…"

  And before anyone could react—they disappeared.

  No dramatic flash of light, no signs of teleportation. They simply… faded into the air, as if they had never been there.

  The generals exchanged glances, but no one gave chase.

  It was too risky. They had no idea how many more of them there might be or what their true abilities were. One thing was certain—they were Awakened.

  A terrifying silence settled over the hall.

  Everyone who had just experienced this knew—they had just come into contact with something that could turn the entire world upside down.

  Matthew exhaled heavily and looked at the gathered generals.

  "I managed to remove the thread from Sister Anastasia’s mouth."

  These words immediately drew the attention of all those in the know.

  "The moment she could speak again, she threw herself at food. It was clear that it brought her relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she could function normally. But when she regained her strength, she said something… unclear, barely understandable."

  Everyone watched him in silence, waiting for his next words.

  "She said she was trapped with other souls and couldn’t go to the Final Judgment."

  The silence that followed was almost tangible.

  "She also mentioned something else… That there were still too few of them. Too few for the Lord to come."

  At that moment, Adam snorted loudly and shook his head in disbelief.

  "Now it all makes sense." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Some fucking cult is trying to summon something by sacrificing people."

  That summary, though brutal, was the only logical conclusion one could draw.

  Then Prince Michael spoke, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

  "I deeply regret arriving so late, but I usually do not attend any balls. I simply don’t have time for them," he continued. "Besides… I am close to completing something I have been working on for a long time. When I am in my domain, I keep my communicator off to avoid distractions. I only recently saw the request for assistance."

  Peter, standing beside him, nodded in confirmation. Then he took a step forward and looked over the gathered generals.

  "In light of what is happening, I officially declare that a generals’ council will be held."

  That meant one thing—the situation was truly serious.

  Jian, who had remained silent until now, looked at the students of the special class.

  "We’re leaving." His tone was calm but firm. "If no one is injured, we’re returning to the hotel."

  The young Awakened exchanged glances, but no one objected. The battle was over—now, all that remained was to organize their thoughts and prepare for what was to come.

  However, before everyone could leave, Cornelius approached Matthew.

  "I want to talk to you."

  The priest studied him carefully before nodding.

  "Come to the cathedral tomorrow morning."

  "The cathedral?"

  "Yes, I’ll be there, hearing confessions."

  Cornelius furrowed his brows.

  "I want to talk, not confess."

  Matthew shrugged.

  "I don’t have time right now. I see what’s happening. Tomorrow, I’ll be in the confessional for an hour, so if you want to catch me, that’s when. And by the way…" He looked him straight in the eyes. "Maybe a confession would do you some good."

  Cornelius didn’t respond. He stood in silence for a moment before turning and following the rest of the group.

  None of the special class students had expected such an All Souls’ Eve.