Alfred rushed back from the station, sprinting toward the yellow hotel. He bolted up the stairs to his apartment.
THUD!He slammed the door shut behind him.
Javier looked up from his desk across the hall, startled by the noise. He'd been sitting quietly, reading a book in his own apartment.
Did something happen? Javier stood, hiding his concern, and crossed the hall.
Knock knock knock.
Alfred opened the door, looking slightly out of breath.
"Are you okay? I heard the door slam and thought something—"
Alfred raised his hand and waved it dismissively, forcing a tired smile.
"It's nothing. I'm just still a bit shaken from yesterday. Sorry for the noise."
"If that's all..." Javier nodded, then returned to his apartment to continue reading.
Alfred closed the door, sighed deeply, and sat at his desk, clutching his head.
How did he know I was going there? It's like he's watching me… Dammit.
Days passed. Hermes finally arrived in Santia City, heading straight to the yellow hotel where Alfred and the others were staying.
From Alfred's daily reports, Hermes had concluded that Koroliga hadn't made a move in a while—likely having left the city altogether.
From time to time, Alfred, Javier, Hermes, and the officers of 19 Sylvester Street patrolled the city, disguised as civilians, searching for anyone wearing a yellow mask adorned with Carcosa's black stars, narrow eyes, and a twisted smile.
But they found nothing.
It was as if Koroliga had vanished.
Or worse—left the city, ready to spread horror elsewhere.
His absence wasn't peace—it was a harbinger of new nightmares.
They searched homes. Questioned civilians. Rotated shifts between night and day. But no one had seen the mask. No trace. The idea that Koroliga had truly left started to feel more likely.
Hermes ordered Livery City police to expand the search beyond Santia.
Zarquil scoured Livery's streets at dawn, but found no signs—no mask, no matching face.
Alfred had a theory: maybe the mask wasn't the criminal—maybe the mastermind had a specific face, and the mask was simply a tool to control others.
Even Clouser found nothing in his evening rounds.
"It really looks like he disappeared…" Hermes muttered.
Their investigation stretched to the city's borders—empty and desolate, the perfect place to commit murder unnoticed.
"Where could he have gone? I can't sense his presence at all…" Hermes whispered.
He was a Shaman of SS strength, sometimes bordering on SSS. The fact that he couldn't detect Koroliga confirmed one thing: the terrifying gap between SSS and P-ranked relics.
Sometimes he doubted they'd ever catch him.
Suddenly—they spotted two carriages facing each other in the distance.
Eyes wide, the trio sprinted toward them.
Inside one of the carriages sat a pale-faced man in a yellow suit, with narrow black eyes, a twisted smile, and black hair.
"Quick!" Hermes yelled as the carriage sped off.
They jumped into another carriage and gave chase.
Alfred and Javier fired at the wheels, but nothing hit.
Hermes summoned his power—the sky split open just ahead of the enemy carriage.
From it, a massive humanoid figure emerged, arms spread wide as if to embrace the sun.
The carriage exploded. The horses went mad. Yellow boils erupted from their bodies, exploding with pus and glowing black tendrils.
The man in yellow leapt out and bolted toward the city.
The trio followed—after putting down the horses to stop further transformation.
As they entered the city, a horrifying scene met them:
The man in yellow had disappeared into a crowd of people… all dressed just like him.
Everyone wore yellow suits. Pale faces. Black hair. Twisted smiles. Narrow black eyes.
Everyone was Koroliga.
They raised their hands like guns, mimicking the sound of shooting.
"Get down!" Hermes shouted, forming a flesh shield covered in black pus in front of them.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
From their mouths came shockwaves—sonic bullets—that slammed into Hermes' barrier.
Alfred's right eye glowed blue as he peered through the crowd from behind the fleshy wall.
But it was impossible to tell who the real Koroliga was.
Some clones ran. Some cheered. Some watched. Some ate and drank as if at a festival.
Then suddenly—symbols and alien patterns pulsed in Alfred's glowing eye.
A shadow appeared behind him again.
Huge. Towering.
A cloaked figure, draped in stars, carrying a golden sword.
Among the swirling blue light, Alfred saw a faint yellow glow.
Then the shadow lifted its hand and swept across the area.
Every civilian returned to normal—except one.
"There!" Hermes gasped.
"I see him!" Alfred shouted. "After him!"
The three darted into the alley, chasing the lone surviving Koroliga.
He turned and fired a bullet—but instead of a projectile, he teleported to where it landed.
He ran out the alley—only to be blocked by a massive hand slamming down in front of him.
"There's nowhere to run!" Hermes shouted, drawing a slimy sword coated in yellow pus.
Koroliga fired—but Hermes blocked it and charged.
Alfred and Javier opened fire—Bang! Bang! Bang!
Koroliga hurled playing cards at them.
"Dodge!" Hermes yelled.
They rolled aside, but some cards grazed them—leaving minor injuries.
Koroliga leapt wall to wall, trying to reach the rooftops.
At the top, a giant eye stared him down—part of a massive head.
In midair, he fired a blast that exploded the eye, making it scream.
A black vortex opened in the sky, revealing two glowing green eyes surrounded by writhing tentacles, dripping blood.
Koroliga froze for a moment.
Hermes charged—Swoosh!
Koroliga turned just in time to block the attack, but the impact sent him flying—his arm injured.
The eye and vortex vanished.
Now cornered, Koroliga raised his hand in the shape of a gun—aiming at Alfred.
But a massive shadow stood in his way.
He recognized the form instantly.
A cloaked figure in yellow. Pale golden hair. A face white with a sickly gray hue. Black stars hanging from his robe.A radiant golden sword in his hand.
"…Yoshia," Koroliga whispered, smiling.
Yoshia raised his sword.
Swoosh—
He cut through space itself—and Koroliga.
The illusion, the body, the entity—it was all wiped away.
Yoshia vanished—returning inside Alfred.
"…Is it over?" Javier asked quietly.
Alfred clutched his head in pain.
Hermes answered instead, holding up a relic—a mask:
"Most likely... yes," he said, nodding solemnly.