In an old fortress, a middle-aged man sat on a throne in a very dark room. The atmosphere felt evil and threatening.

  Sounds cliché, right?

  But wait—plot twist.

  The throne? Made entirely of bones. Human bones.

  Yep. Still cliché. But at least now, it was the extra disturbing kind of cliché.

  The throne gleamed eerily under the flickering torches. One could see the skeletal remains twisted with the armrests made from the polished skulls where their empty sockets forever locked—in silent screams.

  Despite everything, the middle-aged man was an enigma. Imagine this. He was here, yet not. It was all because of his body that was cloaked in a shifting darkness. None of his features were clearly visible.

  Another thing to take note of was that his form flickered. It was like a projection that struggled to take full shape. Only his eyes were visible in the darkness—pale and glowing like embers, they burned with a quiet threat.

  Twelve figures stood in two straight lines in front of him. They wore long black robes with golden symbols. Each figure radiated a strong presence, with some faces hidden under hoods while others were fully visible. Their expressions varied from cold and calculating to frustrated.

  They were called by one name and had a golden symbol, each linked to a Zodiac sign.

  A tall man stepped forward. The flickering torchlight highlighted his sharp features. His piercing gray eyes showed the burden of someone who had seen and done a lot. He carried responsibilities that would overwhelm most people.

  He dropped to one knee before the throne of bones. "My Lord."

  His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against steel. No hesitation. No wasted words.

  “We have an update on Ronan.”

  The shadows around the throne rippled like living things responding to some unseen pulse. When the Lord spoke, it wasn’t with a single voice—it was a chorus, layered and guttural, each tone dragging across the air like something ancient and wrong.

  “The brat from the Cross Family?” The voices overlapped, some amused, some disdainful. “Speak.”

  The kneeling man, with the symbol of Capricorn, bowed his head slightly, the dim light casting harsh angles across his face. “He has been interfering with our operations. More than we expected.”

  Beside him, a woman with golden eyes, Leo, scoffed, arms crossed. “More than we expected?” she repeated, not impressed. “That's an understatement. We knew he would cause trouble.”

  The Lord tilted his head slightly and looked at them intently. “You’ve lost more rings, haven’t you?”

  Silence.

  A few among them stiffened. Some cast sideward glances.

  Capricorn hesitated before answering, but there was no use lying. “Yes, my Lord.”

  The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop.

  The shadows swirled aggressively, getting thicker like a storm building up. “And yet you still let him live.”

  A man with broad shoulders stepped forward. He crossed his arms. It was Taurus. “We underestimated his survival ability,” he admitted. "He has been around longer than we thought."

  “That's because he is not from this world,” Leo said softly. “He doesn't think like others.”

  The Lord let out a sharp sound that was more like a growl than a sigh. “Stop with the excuses. I want results.”

  A woman with silver hair and cold, calculating eyes—Virgo—stepped forward. Unlike the others, her voice carried no frustration, only precision. “If I may, my Lord, there is... some good news.”

  The air grew still.

  The Lord’s glowing eyes locked onto her. “Speak.”

  Virgo inclined her head slightly. “According to our energy radar, more rings have surfaced.” A small smirk touched her lips. “The same rings that Ronan has been collecting.”

  The shadows momentarily steadied.

  At last, something worth hearing.

  “The only good thing I’ve heard tonight,” the Lord mused, though there was no satisfaction in his tone.

  Virgo continued, “Still, retrieving them will not be easy. We all know the nature of these rings.”

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  A man with sharp eyes and a wolfish grin—Scorpio—chuckled. “That’s hardly a problem.”

  The Lord turned his gaze toward him.

  Scorpio smirked. “Whoever retrieves the rings will be consumed by their power. The beasts within will corrupt them, twisting their minds and turning them into monsters. And when that happens… destruction follows.”

  He gestured outward with a sweep of his hand. “The moment the rings scatter, we win. If people take them, they will become creatures of ruin. Chaos will spread. Blood will be spilled. No matter what way we look at it, the outcome is in our favor.”

  A quiet agreement spread among the twelve.

  The Lord stayed quiet for a while, lost in thought as the shadows danced around him. Finally, he let out a deep, low laugh.

  “It is true.” His voice was amused, yet there was a cold calculation beneath it. “Still, we must retrieve as many rings as possible.” His gaze darkened. “We must prepare.”

  The weight of those words settled in the chamber like an unseen force. None of the twelve spoke, but they all understood.

  Prepare.

  For what, none dared to ask.

  But they knew their place. They knew their duty.

  The Lord slowly leaned back against his throne, the shadows around him thickening again. “That will be all. You're dismissed.”

  One by one, they each bowed to the Lord.

  Sagittarius was the first to leave. He quietly slipped into the shadows. He was always wearing a robe. Aries and Aquarius looked at each other and then walked toward the exit.

  Cancer and Libra whispered among themselves as they followed. Pisces, always the quietest, simply disappeared into the darkness.

  The last to remain was Leo.

  She stood still, her golden eyes fixed on the moving shadows of the throne. There was something hard to read in her gaze—something sharp and calculating.

  The Lord’s burning eyes flickered toward her, the shadows swirling ever so slightly. Unlike the others, she did not bow. She did not move.

  She was waiting.

  A low hum rumbled from the throne, almost amused. “I have a mission for you."

  A pause.

  Then, the Lord leaned forward slightly, his form still flickering in and out of presence. “The Cross has disrupted our plans far too long. The others may toy with their little victories, but I require a guarantee.”

  Leo’s smirk widened, but her eyes remained cold. “You want him dead.”

  The shadows pulsed. “I want him erased.”

  Leo exhaled through her nose, tilting her head slightly. “We’ve sent plenty after him before. They all failed.”

  The Lord’s voice dropped into something heavier—something more final. “They were tools. You are a weapon.”

  Leo let out a quiet chuckle and rolled her shoulders as if she had not really put the Lord in her eyes. “Okay,” she said. She turned around, and her golden hair caught the dim light from the torch. “But if I do this, I will do it my way.”

  “You will not fail me.” It was not a request. It was a command.

  Leo paused just before the exit, glancing back over her shoulder. Her smirk faded a little, showing a more threatening expression.

  "Again, I will do it my way," she said softly.

  The Lord’s shadows moved angrily, wrapping around the throne like smoke that was alive. “Then do not disappoint me.”

  With that, Leo vanished into the corridors of the fortress, the air behind her humming with something dark and inevitable.

  The chamber fell into silence once more.

  The Lord’s form flickered, still not fully present in this world. His voice, low and absolute, echoed through the empty space.

  “The game has just started, Ronan.”

  ***

  The cave was cold and wet, like a basement that had not been cleaned in many years. The air smelled like wet rock and dirt, with a faint smell of rain coming in from outside as if the sky had been crying just before they arrived.

  Moonlight came in through the entrance, but it only made the shadows look creepier. The rough walls reflected the silvery light just enough to create illusions, making it seem like something was moving in the dark, waiting and watching.

  Because, you know, caves weren’t already unsettling enough.

  Elion and Jordan stood near the entrance, taking it all in.

  “Okay… I did not know this forest had caves,” Elion muttered, rubbing his arms.

  Jordan huffed, looking around. “Same. Thought it was just endless trees and mosquitoes the size of birds. But nope—turns out, secret caves.”

  Elion shot him a look. “We are not nature guys.”

  Jordan shrugged. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

  Elion ignored him and focused on Ronan instead. The cowboy had moved deeper into the cave, settling himself against a smooth boulder. He was already pulling out supplies—from where Elion had no idea.

  The guy didn’t have a backpack. His shirt barely had any pockets big enough for the stuff he was taking out. And yet, he kept producing items like some kind of human vending machine.

  First, a roll of cloth. Then, a glass bottle filled with dark liquid. Then, a small bundle of dried herbs is tied together with a thin thread.

  Elion’s curiosity got the best of him. “Okay, seriously. Where are you pulling all that from?”

  Ronan didn’t look up as he set the items beside him. “Dimensional storage.”

  Jordan perked up. “Wait. Like, an actual pocket dimension? You just have one? On you?”

  Ronan sighed, rolling up his sleeve. “Yeah.”

  Elion squinted. "That’s really unfair."

  Ronan ignored them as he picked up the bundle of herbs. He crushed them between his fingers, releasing a sharp, minty smell. When the crushed leaves touched his wound, a light steam rose from his skin.

  Elion winced. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  Ronan smirked through the pain. “What do you think?”

  Jordan crossed his arms, watching closely. “So… that wound. How’d you get it?”

  Ronan stilled for half a second, just barely noticeable. Then he sighed, leaning back slightly against the cave wall.

  “This?” He glanced down at the wound, his voice casual. “Got it just before I arrived here.”

  Elion frowned. “You mean when you first arrived?”

  Ronan gave a lazy nod. “Didn’t land in a nice place like you two. No trees. No cave. No breathable air.”

  Elion’s stomach twisted slightly. “Then… where?”

  Ronan exhaled sharply, tilting his head against the wall. “Middle of a damn wasteland. Nothing but cracked earth, burning sky, and things that wanted to rip me apart the second I showed up.”

  Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Things? You mean like the beast-men?”

  Ronan chuckled, but it was humorless. “Worse.”

  That one word sent a shiver down Elion’s spine. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what could be worse than what they had already seen.

  Ronan grabbed the roll of cloth and started wrapping his wound. “Fought my way out. But one of them got me before I made it here. Haven’t had time to fully heal since.”

  Jordan watched him carefully. “And because this world doesn’t have the energy you need, you’re stuck healing like a regular person?”

  Ronan nodded, finishing the wrap. “Pretty much.”

  Elion exchanged glances with Jordan. The cowboy had been fighting every single day since arriving, all while dealing with a wound that refused to heal.

  And yet, here he was. Still moving. Still fighting.

  Elion swallowed. “…That’s messed up.”

  "Yeah," Ronan smirked, tossing the empty herb bundle aside. “Welcome to my life.”