Meanwhile, high above the city, in a penthouse:

  “Kiron, we need to track down a man the Master says has a useful ability. The Master wants him to serve your purposes, Kiron.”

  “Alright, Amon. As the Master wishes.” A faint smile tugged at Kiron’s lips as he leaned back against the window frame, arms folded. His dark eyes gleamed in the neon light spilling in from the city below.

  “Of course,” Amon answered smoothly. He straightened the collar of his suit, the faint reflection of his long tied?back hair shifting in the glass. “We’re heading to a small suburban area—a wealthy district packed with luxury apartments.”

  “What’s a criminal doing in a place like that?” Kiron tilted his head, intrigued.

  “This guy hates rich people,” Amon replied calmly. “That’s why he mainly kills them.”

  “Then money won’t work on him…” Kiron’s gaze narrowed.

  The air in the room felt heavier around him. Kiron looked young—only twenty—but there was something sharp in the way he carried himself, something unsettling in the calm smile that never reached his dark brown eyes. At 187 centimeters tall, slim but sinewy, dressed in a black shirt and black pants that matched the night itself, he looked more like a shadow than a man. He was the same one who had turned Vira into a demon.

  Amon, a few years older at twenty?four, was only a little shorter. His brown eyes carried a faint glint of calculation, and his long brown hair, tied neatly at the back, contrasted with the crisp, expensive suit he wore. He moved like someone used to commanding attention, but beside Kiron, he seemed more like an anchor—calm, steady, deliberate.

  The two men weren’t just working together; they were bound by something deeper. Partners in blood and schemes, and the very ones Inspector Carter was hunting.

  A few hours later…

  The hum of their sleek car died down as they rolled into their destination. Expensive cars lined the streets, and tall apartment buildings gleamed under the streetlights.

  “So,” Kiron asked as he stepped out, his shoes crunching softly on the clean pavement, “how are we going to find this guy?”

  It was simple—at least according to Amon. He stood calmly by the car, his voice low and certain as he explained, releasing just enough intent to make Kiron’s pulse quicken.

  “We just release our power. If he senses your demon energy, he’ll come to us.”

  A faint laugh escaped Kiron as his fingers brushed against his jacket. “Then, if you don’t mind… I’ll put on my mask.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Amon inclined his head with a faint smile. “As you wish, Kiron.”

  The briefcase clicked open with a metallic snap. From within, Amon lifted out a stark white mask—two hollow black eyeholes, a wide grinning mouth painted in deep, blood-red strokes.

  Kiron slid the mask over his face. Power answered instantly. His arms flushed a dark crimson as his fingernails lengthened into sharp, black talons.

  “Very good… I can feel the power surging through me.”

  “Now you can start destroying the city, Kiron.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  The ground trembled as Kiron slammed his hand down. Cracks tore through the earth, the shockwave shuddering outward until the entire district quaked.

  “Where is this guy?” Kiron growled, scanning the empty street.

  “Maybe we need to make a bigger scene,” Amon mused, eyes glinting. “Try demolishing some buildings, Kiron.”

  “Alright.”

  Kiron lifted his arm toward the nearest high-rise, ready to level it with a single strike—

  A sharp voice cut through the tension. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Two figures turned, surprised.

  “And who are you supposed to be?” Kiron asked, the grin of his mask seeming to widen.

  “Kiron,” Amon murmured, a flicker of triumph crossing his expression, “this is the person we’re looking for.”

  The newcomer stepped closer, steady and defiant. “What do you want from me, masked man?”

  “Work with us.”

  “You show up and start destroying my city, and now you want me to join forces with you?” A soft laugh followed, low and dangerous. “You’re an interesting one. I don’t know what you want from me, but I work alone.”

  Amon’s smile deepened. Kiron’s voice came calm and cold behind the mask. “I figured you’d say that. Amon.”

  “Right away, Kiron.”

  Amon strode back to the car, his steps deliberate, and returned with another briefcase. He set it down beside Kiron and clicked the locks open.

  “This is fifty million,” Kiron said, his tone almost casual as the stacks of bills caught the dim light. “And there’s plenty more where that came from.”

  “Thanks,” the man replied without hesitation, “but I’m not interested in money. What convinces me are actions.”

  “Then let us explain our goals,” Amon offered smoothly.

  “Alright,” the man answered, eyes narrowing. “But I want to hear it from the masked one.”

  Kiron tilted his head, the painted grin of his mask seeming to leer. “As you wish. We’re going to create the world’s largest criminal organization. We have money. We have an army. But we still need powerful individuals on our team.”

  “The world’s largest criminal organization? Come on. Who would actually believe that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

  Kiron’s voice dropped to a growl. “Amon, can I kill him?”

  “Kiron,” Amon warned softly, “please remember what the Master told us— we must complete the mission.”

  A low chuckle rumbled behind the mask. Then, in a blur, Kiron burst forward. His fist crashed into the man’s chest, the impact hurling him through the air and straight into the side of a building. Concrete cracked and dust rose in a thick cloud.

  He’s fast… but still not at lightspeed. And I couldn’t even see the punch…

  “So,” Kiron’s voice drifted lazily through the settling debris, “what do you think?”

  “Ugh… that hurt, damn it!” The man wiped blood from his lip, eyes burning with a mix of fury and excitement. “But alright— you convinced me. Take off the mask and tell me what you want.”

  “Very well.” Kiron’s fingers brushed the mask, lifting it away in a smooth motion. The cold air hit his face, revealing sharp features and a calm, dangerous smile. “But what exactly convinced you?”

  “You’re strong. Filthy rich. And that mask… I can tell you possess some kind of dark power.”

  The smile widened. “Welcome. I am Kiron Darkan.”

  The man straightened, still catching his breath. “Kaden Hale.”