Arman’s astonishment quickly shifted into a respectful expression as he straightened up, offering a formal salute.
“Greetings, Vice Commander Iris.”
The woman before him, a striking figure known for both her beauty and formidable reputation, was one of the vice commanders serving under the Arc’s current leader. Her reputation preceded her—famed for her cold, calculating demeanor and ruthlessness on the battlefield.
Her moniker, the “Floral Witch,” stemmed from her ability to decimate Primals and invaders alike with her unique talents.
Despite this, Arman found it hard to believe that the current threat—a calamity—could justify the personal involvement of someone of her stature.
Vice Commander Iris made no attempt to acknowledge his greeting. Instead, she descended gracefully, her attention immediately drawn to the wild, near-unrecognizable Vincent below.
His figure had warped, barely human now, struggling to remain upright under the weight of his own primal instincts.
A flicker of panic crossed Arman’s face before he spoke up again, his voice tense.
“Vice Commander, please allow me to handle this abomination.”
Behind his words, fury simmered, but there was more than anger at play here—there was greed, well-concealed but no less potent.
Ending a calamity like Vincent would not only satiate his thirst for revenge but also earn him significant merit.
The rewards would be substantial.
But once again, Vice Commander Iris offered him no response. Her gaze remained fixed on Vincent, whose awareness seemed to have long since slipped away, leaving only a mindless shell, struggling purely on instinct.
Why does Master want me to protect this man?
Iris wondered silently.
Her mind teemed with questions, but she knew better than to question her orders, especially since her master seldom requested anything from her.
Curious as she was, she pushed her thoughts aside, having already conducted a background check on Vincent.
Apart from his rather common backstory—a child of missing parents, a situation not unusual in these turbulent times—there was nothing particularly remarkable about him.
Yet now, watching him in this state, Iris found her intrigue growing.
Could her master be indebted to this man?
She had no answers.
Arman’s voice interrupted her musings once more.
“Vice Commander!”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she finally deigned to speak.
“I can hear you, District Leader Arman.”
Her tone was as cold as the reputation that preceded her, tinged with unmistakable irritation.
“My apologies, Vice Commander. You seemed preoccupied. But… may I be given the honor of eliminating that demon?”
Without a hint of emotion, Iris responded, “No, I will handle him myself.”
“But—”
Before he could finish, a wave of icy killing intent washed over him, smothering the words in his throat and forcing him to drop any further protests.
“District Leader Arman,” she said, her voice dangerously calm.
Arman swallowed hard, stiffening under the weight of her presence.
“Y-Yes, Vice Commander?”
“I want all recordings of today’s events deleted from your data.”
“But, Vice Commander—”
“District Leader Arman,” she interrupted, her voice colder than ever, “this will be the last time you interrupt me when I’m speaking.”
His heart raced as he hastily lowered his head.
“I understand.”
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she continued.
“Furthermore, I don’t want to hear so much as a whisper about my involvement here. If I do…” She paused, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous promise, “…you will not like the consequences. Understood?”
Arman barely managed to nod, his voice trembling. “I-I understand, Vice Commander.”
Satisfied, Iris turned her attention back to Vincent. His transformation had worsened—his human form barely holding together as his left arm morphed into a twisted, abyssal limb.
His eyes glowed an unnatural red, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. When he lunged toward her in a final, primal rush, Iris responded with a mere flick of her wrist.
Instantly, Vincent collapsed, unconscious before he even hit the ground. Iris caught his limp body with ease, cradling him in her arms as if he weighed nothing.
Without so much as a glance at Arman, she looked over her shoulder and gave her final command.
“Clean this area before you leave.”
And with that, she shot into the night sky, vanishing from Arman’s sight, Vincent in tow.
Arman could only glare at her receding figure, his face twisted in anger.
“Fucking bitch!” he cursed, fury overtaking him as he slammed his fist into the nearby wall.
The force of his punch caused yet more damage to the already devastated area, only to realize with a groan that he had just added to his own workload.
“Argh! Fuck!”
—
The Next Day
While rumors about Alpha Arnold Mazels causing a stir at the Annual Battle Ceremony of a certain school circulated through the district, Vincent, oblivious to the events of the previous day, slowly began to regain consciousness.
“Ugh…” he groaned, wincing in pain as he rubbed his eyes. His body felt heavy, disoriented, as he pushed himself into a sitting position, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Where am I?” he muttered, eyes narrowing at the opulent space around him.
The room was spacious, far too luxurious for someone like him—its decor akin to a VIP suite in an extravagant hotel.
Before he could piece things together, a soft knock came from the door. It opened slowly, revealing a woman in her thirties, dressed in a professional maid’s uniform.
She pushed a cart into the room, her expression calm and composed, as if entirely unsurprised by his awakening.
“Good morning, young master,” she greeted politely, her voice gentle.
“Your breakfast has been prepared by the young lady.”
“Young master…?” Vincent repeated, blinking in confusion. His hand instinctively rose to his face, where he realized his Morphic Mask was gone.
“It’s missing?” he murmured. Strangely, he didn’t feel panic—only a vague curiosity. He looked at the woman, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Uh, miss…?”
“Victoria,” she replied smoothly, not missing a beat.
“What?”
“Please, call me Victoria.”
“Oh, okay.” Vincent shook his head slightly, still trying to clear the fog in his mind.
“Miss Victoria, could you tell me where I am?”
“You may simply call me Victoria, young master. As for your location, you are currently a guest at Lady Sophie’s villa.”
“Sophie?” Vincent echoed, the name drawing a blank in his mind.
“I’m sorry, but… who’s Sophie?”
Victoria gave him a look of mild surprise, almost as if she were speaking to a clueless child, but she answered without hesitation.
“Sophie Iris.”
The name still didn’t ring any bells for Vincent. He paused, frowning slightly in confusion, before offering an awkward, “Oh.”
Not wanting to dwell on his ignorance, he pressed on with another question.
“How did I end up here?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” Victoria replied, her tone apologetic but firm.
“It would be best if you spoke to the young lady herself after you’ve finished your breakfast.”
Vincent sighed but nodded in understanding. As she moved toward the door, something else crossed his mind.
“Wait—did you happen to see a plain emerald-colored mask?”
Victoria gestured toward the bedside table, where his belongings had been placed. Relieved, Vincent gave her a small smile.
“Thank you, Victoria.”
“You’re welcome, young master. Please enjoy your breakfast. The young lady will await you in the living room.”
With that, she left the room, leaving Vincent to turn his attention to the cart she had brought in. His eyes widened in surprise.
The cart was filled with an array of expensive dishes, the kind of food he had only seen on commercials or online.
As if on cue, his stomach growled.
—
Having thoroughly enjoyed the meal, Vincent changed into a set of freshly laundered black clothes. His usual armor was nowhere to be found, but he didn’t mind. It had been cheap anyway, and now that he had the means, he could afford to replace it with something better.
Victoria soon guided him to the villa’s lavish living room, where the opulence of the place was on full display. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the interior décor screamed wealth and extravagance as he descended the spiral glass staircase.
Please don’t forget to send you golden tickets and powerstones! Thanks fam!
