The Hunter Association stood at the center of the city like a throne carved from arrogance.
It was power.
It was fear.
It was untouchable.
A temple built on the backs of the weak.
A monument to the lie that strength equals justice.
And Arthur had no intention of walking past it.
No.
He walked into it.
The moment his foot touched the marble floor, something shifted.
Not in the building.
In the air.
Like the city itself had stopped to hold its breath.
Inside, a group of elite hunters laughed over drinks.
They joked about their last raid, about how many had begged before they killed them, about how good it felt to be feared.
And then
Arthur walked in.
No one recognized him at first. He looked too ordinary. Too calm.
Until the doors vanished. Until the walls melted. Until the floor beneath their feet disappeared.
And in a blink of a eye
They were somewhere else.
They stood in a city of blood.
Not a city.
A graveyard.
Buildings made from flesh and bone twisted toward the heavens.
Streets paved with shattered skulls stretched endlessly.
The air reeked of rot and ruin.
Above them, a red sun bled across the sky like an open wound.
One hunter
A man who once wiped out a village for sport
Screamed as his boot sank into the body of a child.
Arthur hovered above them, his red eye glowing.
"Do you like it?" he asked, voice calm. "This world is made from everyone you've killed."
Another hunter
A woman crackling with electricity—snarled. "You think tricks will scare us?"
Arthur chuckled.
"Oh, I don't want to scare you." His smile curved like a blade.
"I want you to suffer."
A colossal arena rose before them
A colosseum built from screaming souls.
Thousands of ghostly faces stared down from the stands.
Arthur spread his arms.
"Ten rounds," he said lightly. "Win one? You move on. Lose one—" He snapped his fingers.
A hunter exploded into red mist.
Screams erupted.
Arthur grinned.
"That about sums it up."
And just like that—
The game began.
Far from the chaos, in a quiet place untouched by death and screaming ghosts
Camila stared at the screen like it had just punched her in the gut.
Her book slipped from her fingers without her noticing.
Arthur had been the one who once told her to trust again, after everything.
Now? He was unrecognizable.
Liam sat frozen, his golden aura glitching with every scream that echoed through the livestream.
Arthur had been the only person who'd ever treated him like more than a weapon.
Seeing him now—using power the way their enemies did
Felt like watching a god fall.
Athena couldn't stop trembling.
Her hands clutched her shirt tight over her heart.
Arthur was the one who pulled her from the rubble.
The one who smiled at her when she forgot how.
She covered her mouth as if holding in a scream, tears welling in her eyes.
And Amelia? She didn't blink.
Her smile was soft.
Sad.
Resigned. Because deep down, she had always known Arthur's wrath had no ceiling.
But that didn't make it hurt any less.
He had once called her his anchor.
Now he looked like a storm untethered.
They watched in silence, each of them haunted by different memories—of the Arthur they knew, and the monster he was becoming.
Camila whispered, voice raw and barely audible, "We need to find him."
No one argued.
Because if they didn't— They wouldn't just lose Arthur. They might lose everything he once stood for.
Four people stared at the screen.
Camila's grip tightened around her book. Liam's golden aura pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Athena's breath caught in her throat. Amelia? She just smiled.
But all of them knew
This wasn't the Arthur they remembered.
He had always been intense.
But this? This was something else.
Something colder.
And as the screams echoed from the livestream, Camila whispered, "We need to find him."
No one disagreed.
Because if they didn't
They might never get him back.
Or worse
No one might survive him.
Back in the arena
The screams never stopped.
The hunters
Apex predators, killers without conscience
Were now the ones trembling.
One of them, a towering man once praised for bringing down an entire rebellion solo, clutched his own arms like they were all that could keep him grounded.
His face was pale, sweat pouring down his neck as if he were burning from the inside out.
Another, a woman known for her cruelty in interrogation chambers, backed up slowly, her hands raised like a child caught doing something wrong.
Her breathing was sharp, erratic, like she couldn't find her own rhythm.
A third, younger than the rest but with the body count to rival them, tried to laugh—tried to act like this was a bluff.
But his voice cracked, and the laugh died in his throat.
They all felt it now.
Not the power they thought they owned.
Not the control they clung to. Just the cold weight of judgment settling into their bones.
They'd never known fear.
Not when they murdered families.
Not when they hunted the helpless.
Not when they crushed hope beneath their boots.
But now? Now they couldn't breathe.
Arthur floated above them, watching. Unblinking. Smiling.
"Alright," he said. "Round two."
A loud bell rang.
A screen appeared in the sky.
Twenty-five names.
Fifteen still lit.
Ten already gone.
Arthur clapped his hands.
"Let's play The Hunt."
The arena melted again
Turning into a dense, nightmare forest.
The trees dripped black blood.
The wind whispered in broken voices.
And Arthur's face appeared on a hovering screen.
"Normally," he said, "you do the hunting." His smile widened. "But tonight? You run."
"Survive an hour. That's it." He leaned in.
"Oh—" His eyes glowed.
"And try not to scream."
Because the forest had begun to move.
The trees bent. The shadows stretched. And from the darkness— They came.
The hunters had killed many things in their lives. But not like this.
These were monsters made from their own sins.
Children with mouths stitched shut.
Mothers with eyes gouged out.
Men with heads split open and still whispering.
They knew the faces.
They recognized the bodies.
They had killed these people.
And now
The dead were hunting them.
One hunter ran.
Another followed.
And the forest swallowed them whole.
And the forest swallowed them whol
"But we're not done yet."The world twisted.
And just like that
A new game began.
The Mirror of Monsters
The space around them warped, reshaping into something out of a nightmare.
A cathedral.
Massive.
Twisted gold and black marble stretching on forever.
The Hall of Judgment.
Gigantic stained glass windows cast a strange light.
But it wasn't random.It was them.
Their sins.
The village they burned.
The children they killed.
The families they destroyed.
All of it frozen in grotesque colors, like some kind of holy accusation carved in light and shadow.
And right in the center
A throne.Made of bones.
Not just any bones.
The bones of the people they hurt.
And it didn't belong to them.
It had always been there.
Waiting.
Arthur floated above the ground, arms crossed, that same unreadable look on his face."One of you gets to sit," he said.
The hunters froze.Arthur's Eyes of Wrath glowed like fire barely held back.
"The other dies."
Then, a pause.
"And I won't be the one choosing."
He snapped his fingers.
A single blade appeared, just lying there between them like it had always been part of the floor."Figure it out."
And then
He was gone.
Just like that, they were alone.
In the hall of their sins.
Silence.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The blade lay there.
Waiting.
Daring.
It wasn't just a weapon.
It was a decision.
Talia's breaths were shaky."We don't have to do this," she said, voice soft.
Grant didn't answer.
His hands were trembling.
Talia took a step toward him."We can fight him. Together."
Grant let out a dry laugh."Fight him?" he said.
His voice cracked. "Do you see where we are?"He pointed at the stained glass."Our sins are on display like art in a museum.
He's already won."
Talia clenched her fists."Then what do we do?" she asked, voice low.
Grant looked at her.
And for the first time… he actually looked guilty.
Then he grabbed the knife.
Talia didn't move.
Not because she didn't see it coming.
But because
She'd already accepted it.
The blade pierced her chest.Her blood hit the marble floor.
She looked up at him
And smiled.
"Good luck," she whispered.
Then she fell.
Grant stumbled back toward the throne.
Collapsed into it.Breathing hard.
And the second he sat
Chains burst from the floor, wrapping him tight, dragging him into the seat like it had been waiting just for him.
His eyes went wide.
His veins turned black.And then—
He screamed.
Because now
Now he was really alone.
Arthur reappeared.
He tilted his head like he was looking at a broken toy.
The throne pulsed with Grant's pain.
His screams echoed off every wall.
Arthur sighed.
"Boring."
He snapped his fingers.
And just like that
Grant was gone.
Erased.
The throne stood empty again.
Like it always had.
Like it always would.
Arthur turned.
The game was over.
Time for the final act.
The livestream was still running.
Everyone had seen it.
The begging.
The killing.
The silence after.
And floating above it all
Arthur.
A god wrapped in human skin.
In a hidden room, far away, four people watched.
Camila's hands were shaking.
Liam's jaw was tight, golden energy flickering off him like sparks from a frayed wire.
Athena looked pale
Barely holding it together.
And Amelia?
She smiled.
"Interesting," she said, like she was watching a movie.
Liam slammed a fist into the table.
"This isn't right."
Camila exhaled slowly."It doesn't matter," she muttered. "We need to find him."
Athena looked up.
Her voice was small."But… what if he doesn't want to be found?"
Silence.
Because yeah
That was the real fear, wasn't it?
This wasn't punishment.
It wasn't even justice.
It was something else.
Something worse.
And if they didn't stop him
Then who would?
Cold.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
It poured over the wreckage of a city that had already given up—
Over the blood that had dried too fast.
Over the bodies that no one had time to mourn.
And in the center of it all—
Arthur stood.
Crying.
Not for the hunters.
Not for himself.
But for the voices.
The thanks.
The whispers from the dead who had no one left to speak for them.
The ones who'd died begging. Forgotten. Alone.
Now they smiled.
They whispered, soft and broken.
"Thank you."
And one by one—
they left.
They were finally free.
But with every ghost that passed.
Arthur shattered a little more.
Because they shouldn't have had to die at all.
His fists clenched.
His jaw tightened.
And for the first time in years.
He let himself feel it.
He let himself cry.
They'd caught up to him at last—Camila, Liam, Athena, Amelia.
But the man standing in front of them?
That wasn't the Arthur they knew.
Not the one who danced around danger.
Not the one who twisted reality with a grin and a shrug.
This Arthur was quiet.
Still.
Broken.
And that silence scared them more than any monster ever could.
"Arthur…"
Her voice cracked.
Not from fear.
From grief.
He didn't look back.
Didn't move.
Didn't pretend.
Just stood in the rain and whispered.
"Do you want to know why I did this?"
Camila swallowed.
"…Tell me."
And he did.
He told them everything.
How he'd slipped into the boy's body.
Felt what he felt.
How it dragged up old memories he couldn't bury anymore.
Then he said it.
The part that broke him.
It wasn't for justice.
Not for the boy.
Not for revenge.
It was because no matter how much power he had—
No matter how many worlds he could rewrite—
Deep down, he was still that scared, angry child who lost everything.
Still powerless.
Still hurting.
And that truth?
It destroyed him.
The final ghost disappeared into the rain-soaked sky.
Arthur just stood there.
Soaked.
Silent.
Waiting.
Waiting for them to hate him.
But instead—
Athena ran to him.
She didn't hesitate.
Just wrapped her arms around him and held him like she meant it.
"You're not alone," she whispered.
"You've never been alone."
And right then?
That wrecked him.
They weren't there to fix him.
They came—because they loved him.
Liam stepped closer, voice calm but real.
"After hearing what happened... I would've done the same."
No judgment.
Just the truth.
Amelia tilted her head, her voice soft but firm.
"We're your friends, Arthur."
"And friends share everything."
She held out her hand.
"Even the sins."
Arthur looked at her.
Then at all of them.
His hands shook.
His chest heaved like he couldn't breathe right.
Then Camila stepped forward.
And said something he never thought he'd hear from her.
"I'm sorry."
Arthur blinked.
Camila—the one who always had it together—
Bowed her head.
"I should've seen it," she whispered.
"I should've known something was wrong."
She sighed.
"But I didn't. And I'm sorry."
He laughed.
But it wasn't real.
It was dry, rough, and hollow.
Because what else could he do?
They were still here.
They didn't run.
They didn't turn on him.
So for once—
He let them stay.
Because maybe… just maybe—
He didn't have to carry this alone anymore.
But now?
It didn't feel quite so heavy.
And even as the weight of Arthur's truth echoed in the air.
The world kept turning.