Chapter 23: The Aftermath.
The Old Hideout
The air was thick with damp concrete, faint cigarette smoke, and the lingering scent of something burnt.
Grim stood at the doorway, staring into the dimly lit room.
He hadn’t been here since Task 1.
Since the black package.
Since everything started.
"Brings back memories." His voice was hoarse, barely above a mutter.
Ash stepped past him, indifferent to nostalgia. A heavy duffel bag landed on the table with a solid thud.
"Your million."
Grim didn’t move.
He was too tired. Too drained to care about the weight of the money or what it meant. All he could think about was how much he wanted this to be over.
Ash studied him, then leaned against the wall. “Take a break, Grim.”
A humorless chuckle left his throat. “Think I deserve one after that?”
“More than anyone.” There was something almost gentle in her voice. “Rest while you can.”
She turned for the door, stopping just before stepping out. A brief glance back—expression unreadable.
“You'll need it.”
The door shut behind her.
Grim?
He just stood there. Staring at the duffel bag.
Feeling absolutely nothing.
LIVE BROADCAST – BLACK DAWN TOWER
A woman stood in front of the wreckage, microphone in hand, voice steady but laced with tension.
“Authorities are still unable to determine the cause of the disaster. What we do know is that the once-infamous Black Dawn Tower has been reduced to rubble, leaving the entirety of Obsidian Sprawl’s underworld in complete disarray.”
The camera panned across the smoldering remains.
“Officials confirm there are no survivors among Duskwatch’s major crime syndicates. Every high-profile figure in the city’s underworld—eliminated. However, with no reported enemy casualties, the question remains: who, or what, could have done this?”
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The footage cut to the surrounding buildings. Burnt. Hollowed out. As if something far beyond human violence had torn through them.
“With no one left to hold power, many fear this void will be filled by something even worse.”
The scene shifted back to the reporter.
“This is Evelyn Kayne, reporting live from Obsidian Sprawl.”
Somewhere in Duskwatch
A small gang of criminals huddled inside a run-down warehouse, their laughter sharp and wild.
“Can you believe it?” One of them slammed a bottle down on the table, grinning. “The whole damn city's wide open now. No more bosses, no more territories—we can take whatever we want!”
More laughter.
“Man, I never thought we’d see the day! Black Dawn, Duskwatch, all those bastards—gone.”
A younger man leaned against the wall, eyes glinting. “So? We takin’ over or what?”
“Of course we’re takin’ over!” The first man stood, arms spread wide. “This city belongs to whoever has the guts to—”
The warehouse doors groaned open.
A cloaked man stepped inside.
Silence.
A frown. “Who the hell are you?”
No answer.
Annoyed, one of them reached for his gun. “Hey, buddy, I’m talkin’ to—”
A gunshot.
The man collapsed before he could draw.
But it wasn’t the cloaked figure who fired.
It was the army standing behind him.
Dozens of silhouettes. Standing in perfect formation. Armed to the teeth.
The gang froze.
The cloaked figure finally spoke.
“Would you like to join the new order?”
The gang leader swallowed hard. He already knew the answer.
Before he could speak—
THUD.
The scene cut to black.
Someplace untouched by Humanity.
The chamber was vast, its walls shifting like a living void. A subspace—hidden between realms. A place only those who ruled Hell could enter.
Six thrones encircled the space, carved from something ancient, something that had witnessed the birth of both Heaven and Hell.
Five were filled.
One remained empty.
The air was thick with tension.
Belzeebub’s voice shattered the silence.
“Tell me, Asmodeus—Belphegor—why?”
Sharp. Accusatory. Irritation breaking through his usual eerie calm.
“Duskwatch was stable, yet you turned it into a slaughterhouse. Do you understand the attention you've drawn?”
Leviathan scoffed, arms crossed. His ocean-deep voice rumbled.
“I never even noticed that wretched island existed.”
Belphegor—Lazaro—exhaled lazily. “That’s exactly why we were there.” His voice was slow, heavy. As if weighed down by inevitability. “Centuries spent searching, and we never once looked beneath our feet.”
Silence.
Belzeebub frowned. Begrudgingly conceding the point.
Then—finally—Mammon spoke.
“Duskwatch was never just an underworld.” His voice dripped with control, smooth, unshaken. “It was the gateway between Heaven and Hell. Hidden within the Bermuda Triangle. A place neither side dared to acknowledge.”
The room stiffened.
“I buried it,” Mammon admitted.
“Used my influence to keep it in the shadows. A secret even from us. I never thought you’d tear the whole thing apart just to find it again.”
And then—
The air changed.
Reality itself curled inward.
A force beyond power drowned the room.
The silence was absolute.
One by one—
They bowed.
A sixth figure entered.
Satan.
He did not sit. Did not command.
He simply was.
His gaze fell upon Ash.
“You have been meeting with my vessel, haven’t you, Asmodeus?”
