Drayvok doesn't wait.
"Weapon Fusion—Final Phase: Hell Sniper."
A deep pulse rips through the air as the colossal sniper locks into place. Cores hum. Light gathers. The sound alone shreds silence into panic.
And in one ruthless breath—
"Fire."
BOOOOOOM—
The world goes white.
Seven bead-cores flare and erupt in tandem, detonating like synced suns. Shockwaves split the arena. Steel groans. Marble fractures. Dust and smoke flood every inch of the council chamber.
Silence.
Only one shape remains visible in the center—A solitary silhouette, unmoved.
Still unclear if it's shadow, clone… or the devil himself.
Drayvok's boots crunch rubble as he hovers upward.
Smoke coiled through the ruins of the council chamber, thick as fog and twice as suffocating. Chunks of scorched stone lay strewn like bodies, the heat still dancing over shattered metal beams. The sniper's roar had left nothing untouched—scorch marks carved across the floor like ritual symbols of obliteration.
A low, whining ring filled the ears of everyone watching.
And then—movement.
From the eye of the explosion, a figure emerged.
Step by step.
Unburnt. Unharmed. Unbothered.
The smoke parted as if it feared touching him.
Raven.
No tricks. No illusions. Just him. Standing. His coat trailing embers. His gaze locked not on the council, not on the aftermath—but on one thing.
Drayvok.
The Executioner of Aspen Order. His sniper now a molten ruin clutched in one trembling hand. Shock etched across his features. That blast should've vaporized everything in its path.
But the devil hadn't even blinked.
And then—
[System Feature 3: Activated]
A screen shimmered into existence in midair, floating in front of Raven's eyes alone. Its glow bathed his face in pale blue.
New Quest: Defeat Executive of the Aspen Order
Target: Drayvok
Threat Level to World: S-Rank
Threat Level to You: F-Rank
The corners of his mouth twitched.
"...How generous."
The screen dissolved.
And the armor began to shift.
No size change. No transformation. Just... precision.
A thin, dark blue line appeared across his right arm. Then the left. Then down both legs. Vein-like. Mechanical. As if the armor was absorbing something into itself—refining, not evolving.
The studded plating gained an almost scaled texture—not reptilian, but reinforced. One clean line per limb. Flowing, converging toward the chest, where the energy lines locked into place.
A soft pulse emitted from the center.
Raven exhaled.
A slow, focused breath that made the air tremble around him.
And then—
He vanished.
A blink. A blur.
The next instant, a sound like a thunderclap echoed across the chamber.
CRACK—
Drayvok's body was gone from his position. Smashed across the arena like a ragdoll, crashing spine-first into the adamantium wall. The impact cracked the unbreakable alloy, sending vibrations across the chamber.
He slumped. Bleeding. Disarmed. Shocked.
And in his place—Raven now stood. Arm extended. Smoke curling off his knuckles.
His eyes, cold and unreadable, didn't waver.
"One punch,"he muttered.
Drayvok twitched.
His broken form groaned against the wall, head slumped, armor cracked. Blood spilled down his chin. But his eyes…
Still burning.
Still defiant.
He coughed once. Then laughed.
A jagged, short burst.
"Heh… time to show you…"
He spat blood. His voice deepened. Warped.
"…why I'm an Executive."
A pulse of crimson energy erupted from his chest, flaring outward like a detonation.
His feet lifted off the ground.
The wall behind him groaned, then burst apart as he floated upward, shards of adamantium drifting in slow motion. His arms stretched outward, as if welcoming some invisible god—and then, one by one, the weapons he had used—sniper, blade cores, wrist cannons, everything—shimmered into light and began fusing into his body.
Metal folded into muscle. Circuitry merged with skin.
Not transformation. Not ascension.
Assimilation.
Metal bends. Gears twist. Light compresses.
Drayvok transforms into a mini-mecha, a compact engine of destruction, plated in black steel and glowing circuitry—hovering mid-air, weapons humming with kinetic rage. His eyes, now pure red, locked onto Raven like a drone locking target.
Below, Raven tilted his head back and sighed.
He stared straight upward toward the heavens—or rather, the roof.
"...Creator, are you legit serious right now?" he muttered aloud, brows twitching.
"A side-side villain with three phases? You sure this ain't a fan-made DLC?"
A distant thunder cracked above. No response.
Raven shook his head, expression flat.
"Alright then. Script's broken. Let's improvise."
The air snapped as Drayvok launched forward, jet boosters igniting from his back and calves. A hailstorm of particle blades and high-caliber micro-missiles spiraled around him as he descended like a divine retribution.
But Raven…
Still didn't move.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—
Explosions stacked the air in layers. Drayvok's volley came with overwhelming force—every inch around Raven reduced to scorched ruin.
But even through the chaos, Raven stood untouched. Unbothered. Unshaken.
He hadn't even drawn his sword.
Then—
FWUUUUSH—
A sudden shift in atmosphere.
An old but new presence.
From the shadowed edges of the arena, a whirl of silver-blue energy spiraled in, cutting through the flames like a drill made of light.
A single, rotating shot.
Compact. Beautiful. Lethal.
The camera of reality whips—and standing far off in the smoke, Phantom lowers his adamantium warbow, eyes sharp and calculating.
"Piercer," he whispers.
The shot whistles through the air like a god-slayer javelin—rotating so fast, it bends the space around it.
Trajectory: straight to Raven's head.
The arena holds its breath.
And Raven?
He tilts.
Just a hair. One inch to the left.
Two fingers snap up like a closing trap—
CHINK.
He catches the Piercer mid-spin.
The energy twists in his grip, resisting. Screaming.
But Raven's gaze doesn't even flicker.
"Nice shot," he murmurs.
And with a single flick—
CRACK—
The arrow is hurled forward, at straight into Drayvok's core as he charges up a mega-attack—his entire body glowing, arms raised, about to unleash a wave of destruction.
The Piercer punches through his chest.
BOOOOM—
Drayvok's energy implodes inward, his mech-core rupturing on impact.
He doesn't even get to scream.
Just wide eyes.
Then smoke.
Silence.
Raven exhales once, calmly lowering his hand.
"Timing, Phantom. But not bad."
Just when it seemed over…
Drayvok's body twitched.
Even with a hole blasted clean through his chest, with smoke rising from his fractured mech-core and sparks trailing his breath, he moved.
A single finger curled.
Then another.
Crack—
He pushed himself up from the rubble, coughing out black fluid. Most of his armor was gone—torn clean off—and nearly half of his skin had been incinerated, leaving exposed circuitry and raw muscle twitching underneath.
But his eyes—Still red.Still alive.
And worse…
Still smiling.
His body began to knit itself back together with grotesque speed—flesh rebuilding over metal, nanites stitching skin like hyper-speed spiders. Veins pulsed with unnatural light. In a matter of seconds, he was standing again. Whole.
Fresh.
As if reborn.
"I wasn't supposed to use this yet…"
His hand reached into his inner chest slot and retrieved a black-stained injector, laced with crimson spirals. It pulsed in his grip like a heartbeat.
He held it up to the light, voice low. Quiet.
"…But you leave me no choice."
CLICK.
The needle slid into his neck.
SSSK—FSSHHHH—
The moment the serum entered his bloodstream, a shockwave of pressure exploded outward. Air twisted. The chamber groaned.
And then—everything froze.
Perspective shifted.
Time blurred.
The sound of a child crying faintly echoed through a dark hallway.
Drip… drip… drip…
Water from an old pipe.
A flickering light above an iron door.
The frame lingered.
Heavy breathing echoed.
Footsteps—barefoot, small, scared—moving down the corridor.
"Don't go in there…"
A whisper.