Chapter 12: The City That Died.
11:42 PM
Bangkok, Thailand
The night was thick with life.
Streetlights bled gold over soaked pavements. Neon signs buzzed and flickered in Thai script. Food carts hissed with steam and spices. Tuk-tuks weaved through traffic filled roads.
Monks passed by tourists, monks passed by drunks. Music from rooftop bars melted into chants from distant temples.
It was loud, chaotic, yet beautiful.
Bangkok was breathing.
On the Chao Phraya, boats floated like insects. Vendors shouted from the piers.
The Grand Palace shone beneath floodlights.
Wat Arun gleamed like a lighthouse across the water.
And in the clouds above it all, something moved.
A low, inaudible pressure spread across the city.
Glass rattled. Dogs howled in fear. Birds fled.
Somewhere, a street performer dropped his violin. Somewhere else, a child stopped laughing and stared up in horror.
The sky opened.
It didn’t crack with lightning.
It tore apart, something ancient clawed through the very seams of the world.
The very earth trembled.
A low, droning hum built until every car alarm blared in unison.
The river surged. The lights flickered.
Then came the shadow.
It slithered across rooftops from above. Blocking out the moon itself.
Something impossibly vast. Coiled, fluid, writhing with silent intent.
No one saw the full shape. Just the aftermath.
The Grand Palace collapsed inward, as if crushed by a god’s hand.
Wat Arun’s spire shattered like glass, as the tower collapsed onto the river beside it.
Siam Paragon exploded from within. The streets split apart. Fire erupted from manholes. Screams turned to static.
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And from the ruins of the city, Baiyoke Tower II—the tallest place left standing, a man watched the chaos engulf it all.
11:47.
Bangkok, Thailand.
Bangkok was now calm. But dead.
The Grand Palace was nothing but rubble now. Its golden spires lay broken, clawing at the black sky.
Wat Arun, once a beacon of light, had fallen. Its towering spire now broken, blackened by the flames.
The streets lay abandoned. The air thick with smoke and ash.
Siam Paragon lay in rubble. Glass and steel scattered on the marble.
The lights flickered, then went out.
The Chao Phraya River, once calm, now churned with debris of the Wat Arun.
And high above it all, Baiyoke Tower II still stood.
A monument to the city’s past. The tallest point in the skyline, now barely recognizable. Its once-sleek glass walls now shattered, leaving it to burn in the distance.
At the very top of that tower, stood a man.
His back to the wind, as the heat from the flames threatened the sky.
He leaned against a steel pole, arms crossed, staring down at the chaos below.
The city was gone, and he watched in silence.
A voice crackled through his earpiece.
“How’s it going?”
Levi’s eyes never left the smoldering city. “Better than expected,” he said, his voice calm like the sky which had seen the city’s devastation.
“Levi,” the voice continued. It was Belzeebub. “Is it all set?”
Levi’s lips barely twitched, and then spoke slowly “It’s almost done. The rest is a matter of time.”
“The others. Mammon and Satan. They’re too slow. We’re not here to play with them.”
Levi’s tone didn’t change, but there was something darker in it now.
“Speed’s irrelevant. Mammon fuels the world. Satan is the mind. They’ll play their parts.”
“We’re faster,” Belzeebub interrupted. “Let it fall apart. The sooner the world crumbles, the sooner we can feast. Right, Levi?”
Levi finally turned his head slightly, as if acknowledging the point. His voice was colder now, more deliberate.
“Exactly. The destruction doesn’t just weaken the world. It pulls him out of hiding. He won’t sit back forever. He’s watching, waiting for the right moment. He’s running out of places to hide.”
“Good.” Belzeebub’s voice was more eager now, knowing the next step was near. “And when we have him?”
Levi’s eyes narrowed, focusing on the burning city below. His next words came slower, more purposeful.
“And when we have him… we take it all. His power, God’s power. And then we finally finish what we started. The cosmos and everything within will be ours.”
The flames below flickered, as if on cue.
“Keep it up, then,” Belzeebub said, a hint of impatience in his voice. “We’re getting close. Just don’t let them get in the way.”
Levi turned his gaze back to the horizon. His voice was quiet, but the weight of it could be felt. “Let them try.”
As the fires spread below, Levi stood unmoving.
The city continued to burn.
Time didn’t move. Neither did he.
The inferno below continued to rage. But even amidst the devastation, his thoughts were elsewhere.
The winds howled, carrying the ashes of Bangkok forward.
Beneath the burning sky, deep in the northernmost reaches of the world, there lay a place untouched by mankind. A wasteland of frozen ice and snow, a place where no one dared to venture.
The coordinates had been set. Their next move was not about the world of men.
This was about something far older, far deeper, than anything the world had ever known.
Levi’s shadow stretched further than the city below, not as the man who stood above it, but as as Leviathan, the mythological sea creature.
It loomed over the burning city, dark and vast, with tendrils curling through the night like the coils of a serpent from the depths. It was the shadow of Leviathan, the monstrosity that could swallow cities whole.
“We’re headed to the Arctic,” Levi said softly to Belzeebub, his voice steady despite the tension that still lingered in the air.
Belzeebub’s answer was barely audible, but his intent was clear. “The next step. The final phase. He won’t be able to run anymore.”
