Inside a luxurious villa draped in cool silk curtains, Anh Tú had just finished a call with his parents through an energy crystal cleverly disguised as a feng shui ring. As he opened his bedroom door to step out, a scream pierced through the air from the living room, making his heart jolt.

  He rushed out—only to find his wife, Anh ?ào, trembling and recoiling, her hands pointing at the dining table in terror.

  "Mom! Dad! I saw a plate… a plate full of human eyes on the table... their pupils spinning, blood vessels crawling across them... they're staring straight at me!"

  M? Linh gasped, utterly stunned. She followed her daughter’s trembling finger with a puzzled look.

  "Sweetie! That’s just a plate of longan fruit! I bought those premium ones with the black seeds yesterday!"

  C?u D?ng stepped forward, grasping his daughter’s shoulders and lightly patting her cheeks, desperate to shake her out of the nightmare:

  "?ào, snap out of it! What are you saying? Human eyes? Those are longans! Look again—it's just fruit!"

  But Anh ?ào continued to flail and scream, her face pale as death:

  "No! That’s not fruit! It’s real human eyes... they’re staring at us! Please—get rid of it!"

  Anh Tú took a step back, fists clenched, fear flickering in his eyes. The plate of “eyes,” his wife’s breakdown—it was undeniable now. The punishment of Satan through hallucinations was terrifyingly real. The dark king of an entire underworld planet was wielding power too monstrous to resist. His elf clan had been fleeing the Royal Satanic Mafia’s hunt for centuries… and this was why.

  He drew a deep breath, steadying himself, then turned to his father-in-law with a grave expression:

  "Dad… I think we need to ask Uncle Quy for help again. Have Vú N?m contact that shaman. ?ào’s condition is getting worse."

  C?u D?ng replied with a trembling voice:

  "Mr. Quy sent word that the shaman is currently conducting a ritual in the northern mountains. He’ll return as soon as he can."

  M? Linh, overwhelmed by her daughter's terrifying mental collapse, swayed in dizziness. Anh Tú rushed to steady her:

  "Please stay calm, Mom. We’ll find a way to bring ?ào back to normal. Don’t let it affect your health too."

  C?u D?ng, now torn between panic and anger, barked:

  "And that girl Anh Th?—while this family’s falling apart, she’s off vacationing with that good-for-nothing boyfriend. When she gets back, she’s going to get it. I swear."

  M? Linh interjected, trying to shield her younger daughter:

  "You always yell at her. She just went on a short trip, that’s all. We have Tú here to help us take care of ?ào anyway."

  C?u D?ng snapped:

  "You’re always making excuses for her. One day she’ll do something disgraceful and drag a mess back into this house—then you’ll regret it. A spoiled child is always the mother’s fault!"

  The atmosphere in the villa grew suffocating, as though some invisible force was tightening its grip around every breath. Outside the window, the sunlight slanted like a sharp blade, foreshadowing the terror about to shatter the illusion of peace in this already fragile home…

  It was a late, peaceful afternoon at the Th?o ?i?n villa. Fresh air drifted gently through the leafy canopy, and golden sunlight filtered in, casting tranquil patterns across the living room. My, now fully conscious after a dose of sedatives prescribed by her private doctor, sat beside her fiancé Tu?n. Her parents and a few familiar faces had gathered—Ti?n and Deep, longtime friends and business partners of the family.

  As the group enjoyed a plate of fruit and savored a few rare moments of calm, Mr. Quy’s phone suddenly rang. The name D?ng flashed across the screen—Tu?n’s close friend and a longtime associate of the family. Mr. Quy picked up, and a tense voice came through the line:

  “Quy! We have a serious problem. ?ào… she’s having visions again, even worse than My’s! She screamed about a plate of human eyes staring at her—rotating pupils, bloodshot veins. But all of us saw it clearly: it was just a plate of longan fruit. Please, call the shaman—right away!”

  Mr. Quy’s tone dropped, calm but concerned, trying to steady his old friend:

  “Stay calm, D?ng. My experienced the same thing, but we managed to stabilize her in time with the doctor’s help. She’s much better now. The doctor made some medication adjustments this morning. I’ll send him to your place immediately.”

  “What about the shaman?!” D?ng pressed, urgency rising.

  “As I told you—he’s still performing rituals in the northern mountains. But he promised to return as soon as possible. Hang tight. I’ll call my doctor to check on ?ào right now.”

  Ending the call, Mr. Quy let out a heavy sigh and immediately rang the family’s private physician, requesting an emergency house visit to D?ng’s villa. Across the room, Tu?n, Ti?n, and Deep exchanged worried glances.

  Deep’s eyes widened:

  “She mistook a plate of longan for a pile of human eyes... Her mind’s deeply traumatized.”

  Ti?n added:

  “God knows what else she’s been seeing.”

  Nearby, My had turned pale. Her fingers clutched her mother’s hand tightly, voice trembling:

  “Mom... Anh ?ào... she’s seeing what I saw too?”

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  Mrs. Lan, seated close by, gently squeezed her daughter’s hand—her voice soothing, though her eyes betrayed rising anxiety:

  “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. We’ve got the doctor, and the shaman is coming too... everything will be alright soon.”

  But within the minds of the men in the room—Mr. Quy, Tu?n, Ti?n, and Deep—a heavy dread was mounting. It was as if a doorway to darkness had just creaked open… and what they were witnessing was merely the overture to something far more sinister.

  At that moment, Vú N?m entered the living room carrying a tray of lotus tea, its fragrant aroma drifting gently through the air. Around the table, the guests still sat silently, their eyes heavy with concern despite the vibrant plate of fresh fruits in front of them. She slowly placed the tray down, glanced around the room, and asked:

  “What’s going on? Why does everyone look so serious?”

  A few seconds of silence passed like a shadow across the room. It was Deep who finally spoke, his voice low and grim:

  “Vú N?m… Mr. D?ng just called My’s father. Anh ?ào’s condition has worsened… she’s now seeing hallucinations even while awake.”

  Hearing this, Vú N?m froze. She took a step back, her face turning pale, hands clutching the edge of her áo dài tightly:

  “Seeing hallucinations... while conscious? Good heavens... that’s exactly the method used by the Demon King Satan. It’s written in the ancient scriptures—he delights in attacking the mind, making victims hallucinate terrifying, grotesque visions.”

  The room fell into stunned silence. Only the sound of Mr. Quy’s weary sigh and the wary glances exchanged between Deep and Ti?n lingered. One of them finally broke the tension with a half-joking tone:

  “If it really is Satan… we mortals might as well start praying now. Maybe only the Monkey King could help us.”

  But Vú N?m didn’t laugh. She shook her head firmly, her voice resolute:

  “We don’t need the Monkey King. We’ve already summoned Master V?nh—the only living shaman capable of indirectly confronting Satan. He may not be able to defeat him, but he can restrain or delay Satan’s powers… for a while.”

  Mrs. Lan, seated beside My, gently stroked her daughter’s hair, her voice trembling:

  “I don’t care what needs to be done… as long as my daughter returns to normal… I’ll be grateful forever.”

  Tu?n looked at My, his voice steady with reassurance:

  “We’re all here for you. Don’t worry. You’re not alone in this.”

  In that luxurious yet quiet room, every person present could feel it—a supernatural storm was slowly approaching. It came not with swords or fire, but with the bone-chilling winds of ancient darkness, the kind that crept in unseen… from the depths of Hell itself.

  Under the gentle shade of a mango tree in the courtyard of an old boarding house, ?ng Nhan sipped his cup of Thái Nguyên tea, the steam curling lazily into the midday air. Beside him sat H?ng Nhung, her expression serious, fingers brushing her bangs aside. Her voice was low and even as she spoke:

  “I’ve just received word... The lesser fairies have disguised themselves as butterflies and are now circling the gardens of two mansions. One belongs to Mr. D?ng—where Anh ?ào’s hallucinations have worsened. The other is Mr. Quy’s home—My is slowly recovering. They’re preparing to bring in a shaman to suppress your power.”

  ?ng Nhan let out a cold chuckle, his eyes glinting with contempt. His voice, deep and calm, resonated like a distant storm:

  “Do they really think a few minor shamans can stand against me? I’m not some lowly specter clinging to the mortal realm. I am Satan, the Demon King—ruler of an entire shadow planet where no light has ever touched.”

  He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, and his tone grew colder, like night frost settling on stone:

  “They once called me the Godfather of the Royal Hell Mafia. That elf family of Anh Tú fled across realms, hiding here on Earth to escape my grasp. But fate has a way of catching up. Now that I’ve found them… there’s no shelter left.”

  At that moment, Trang walked over, having just finished cleaning up after their lunch of phá l?u. She glanced up at the mango tree overhead, noticing the clusters of green mangoes.

  “These young mangoes would be perfect with fermented shrimp paste. Nhung, come by tomorrow—I’ll climb up and pick some. I just bought a jar of M?m Ru?c Trí H?i.”

  H?ng Nhung smiled and nodded:

  “You bet. Green mango with M?m Ru?c? I’m obsessed with that combo.”

  Suddenly, a few colorful butterflies fluttered through the courtyard. H?ng Nhung glanced up at them, frowning slightly but saying nothing. She knew—each wingbeat carried spiritual resonance, a silent signal sent back to the Northern Realm.

  Trang followed the butterflies with her eyes, puzzled:

  “There’ve been a lot of butterflies around lately, huh? But I notice… they only show up whenever you’re here.”

  Caught off guard, H?ng Nhung shot a quick glance at ?ng Nhan. He remained composed, and replied to Trang with a calm voice:

  “From now on, child… you’ll start seeing many strange things. In time, you’ll grow used to them.”

  Trang blinked in confusion, clearly not understanding. H?ng Nhung quickly tugged her down to sit beside them, pouring her a cup of the fragrant Thái Nguyên tea.

  Here, in this quiet courtyard shaded by old trees and warmed by the sun, two forces—one from the depths of Hell, the other from the celestial North—coexisted side by side with a gentle-hearted girl named Trang, still bustling about her simple life, unaware of the storm rising beneath the surface of her peaceful world.

  On the outskirts of Bình Chánh, deep within a windless and shadowy forest, stood a decrepit old mansion. Its stone walls were covered in moss, rusted iron gates hung crooked on their hinges, and the crumbling roof looked as though it had been swallowed by centuries of dust and time. No one dared approach—it was said that demons once walked there. But that… was merely a high-level illusion barrier.

  Behind the veil, cloaked in layers of dimensional camouflage, lay the true structure: the ROYAL SATANIC MAFIA HEADQUARTERS — a magnificent, otherworldly super-mansion stretching across six dimensions. It was a flawless blend of ornate European gothic architecture and mystic Asian luxury.

  Three sprawling levels were designed following the cosmic principles of the royal dark order. Spiraling hallways twisted like galaxies, staircases moved via arcane energy, and gemstone-inlaid ceilings shimmered like the constellations. Despite the storms raging outside in the earthly realm, the skies within the mansion remained gently sunlit—like a golden Hawaiian morning. This climate was regulated by an internal atmosphere-control matrix personally authorized by Satan, capable of altering weather across any region on Earth.

  At the heart of the second floor stood the Command Chamber, where a floating 180-degree satellite screen displayed real-time surveillance of every corner of Earth—and the Shadow World. Data streamed endlessly from thousands of mafia outposts across both realms into the dark crystal-core servers, a hybrid technology merging ancient sorcery with artificial shadow intelligence.

  The entire mansion was protected by a multi-layered magical seal, woven from infernal runes buried deep beneath the underworld. It rendered the fortress invulnerable to physical, magical, and divine attacks—including any celestial scrutiny.

  On the mezzanine level, within a serene jade-glass tearoom, Crown Prince Arian sat calmly. His platinum-blonde hair flowed down his back, half-tied in royal fashion. His sculpted features and deep ice-blue eyes glinted with intrigue as he leisurely poured himself a cup of thousand-year snow blossom tea, the crisp aroma subtly filling the space.

  Opposite him sat the formidable Grand Dowager Chancellor, her silver hair bound high in a tight coil. She held a fan of black phoenix feathers and smiled faintly, eyes sharp as blades:

  “To defy the Lord, to mock the laws of darkness... their punishment is simply karmic justice.”

  Arian lifted his teacup, eyes narrowing at the surveillance feed now showing live footage of My’s mansion and D?ng’s household, where pawns were slowly unraveling:

  “You’re right. We rule the Underworld—and the Underworld exists to punish souls that have committed unspeakable sins. As for that elven family… I wonder what Father plans to do with them. They’ve eluded us for centuries, only to end up as in-laws to my sister’s human uncle.”

  The Grand Dowager Chancellor took a slow sip of tea, her voice steady:

  “Some things are fated, arranged by destiny. No matter how one tries, they cannot escape.”

  Together, they quietly savored their tea, while the floating interface in front of them continued to update with a flood of encrypted intelligence—unusual elven movements disguised as humans, magical disturbances from incoming shamans, and… a looming energy spike.

  A signal of S++ class magical power was on the rise—its name: Erion.