Far beyond the mortal realm, where stars bled and dimensions folded like mirrors, Lucien Dreamveil opened his eyes.
The Primordial Void stirred.
He sat upon a throne of obsidian light, one leg crossed over the other, resting his chin lazily against his knuckles. Before him, universes bent like mist, and through that cosmic veil—he saw Kairis standing amidst the smoke of the fallen city.
A faint, amused smile touched Lucien's lips. "So it begins…" His voice was soft—yet it rippled through dimensions, echoing into countless worlds. He leaned forward slightly, the corners of his mouth curving into something almost human, almost fond.
"How will you deal with this, my Apostle?"
The Void responded with silence. Only the faint hum of collapsing galaxies answered.
Lucien chuckled lowly, the sound echoing like thunder through eternity. "Let's see if you dance… or fall."
The next day, the skies over Earty-10 darkened—not from storm, but from presence.
Messages flashed across every terminal, every communication crystal, every divine frequency:
> "Global Summit: Emergency Conference of the Awakeners and Hunters Association."
"Attendance mandatory for all Apostles, High-Rank Hunters, and Council Representatives."
Within hours, the world converged.
The grand citadel of the Awakeners Association—a floating fortress above the shattered sea of Noxvale—glowed with prismatic light. Soldiers, mages, and ancient priests filled the halls. Banners of nations that once hated each other now hung side by side.
And at the heart of it all, seated on the high dais—was Kairis.
He wore the black suit Lucien had gifted him. It shimmered faintly, a distortion of light and gravity wrapped into fabric. His eyes, calm and unreadable, scanned the crowd.
When he rose, the chatter died instantly.
"Thank you for coming," Kairis said, his tone even. His voice wasn't loud—but it carried. "I'll make this quick."
He tapped the table before him, and a projection appeared—a mutated zombie, the same kind he'd slain beside Orion.
"These," he began, "are no longer mindless husks. Some of them are… thinking."
A murmur ran through the hall.
"Bullshit," someone muttered from the side.
Kairis didn't look at him. "They've begun organizing—forming hierarchies, learning. They're calling themselves the Hollow Chorus. And they're ranking themselves, same as we do."
He let that sink in, watching the flickers of disbelief and fear.
Orion, seated among the apostles, rose abruptly. "He's not lying. I fought one yesterday. It broke my blade—and it spoke."
Gasps spread like wildfire.
Still, a few scoffed. A woman with crimson hair and a golden scepter leaned forward, her voice smooth but mocking. "And we're supposed to believe two apostles saw talking corpses? We have better things to worry about than ghost stories."
Before Kairis could respond, the Head of the Association—an older man wrapped in celestial robes, his eyes glowing faint blue—stood up.
"Enough," he said firmly. "I've reviewed the readings myself. Orion's report checks out. Whatever is happening out there… it's spreading fast."
The murmuring shifted to uneasy silence.
Kairis watched them all quietly. He could feel it—fear, pride, arrogance, deception—all blooming like rot beneath their masks.
This wasn't just a meeting.
It was a hunt.
He was watching. Studying.
Every expression. Every breath.
Every soul that flinched when he mentioned the Hollow Chorus.
Then—he saw him.
A man sitting two rows back. His presence was faint, almost elegant in its subtlety. Pale silver eyes that seemed to smile even when his lips didn't. His black hair fell perfectly into place, his suit immaculate.
When their gazes met, the man smiled faintly and tilted his head—like he was peering into Kairis's mind.
Instantly, the air bent.
For a split second, the world flipped. The ceiling became the floor, the faces of the apostles twisted upside-down, voices echoing backward in time. Even gravity felt wrong—like existence itself was trying to forget which way was up.
And yet, Kairis stood perfectly still.
When the illusion faded, he spoke without blinking.
"...The Apostle of Deception."
The man's smile widened. He clapped softly, slow and deliberate.
"Sharp as the stories say. Most lose their sanity when I do that little trick."
Kairis didn't move. "You'll have to try harder."
The Apostle of Deception leaned back in his chair, voice dripping with charm. "Oh, I will. But not today. Today, we're all friends… aren't we?"
His tone carried something dangerous—something that twisted truth and lie into one indistinguishable shape.
Kairis said nothing, but his presence grew heavier. The table creaked as gravity thickened around him.
"I called this meeting for unity," Kairis continued calmly, "but I'm not naïve. Some of you in this room… are feeding it. The mutation. The rise of the Hollow Chorus."
Dozens of faces froze. A tension like knives filled the air.
Kairis leaned forward slightly, his shadow spilling across the table like liquid void.
"Keep playing your games. I'll find you. One by one."
And with that, he turned his back on them and began walking toward the exit.
The Apostle of Deception's voice followed him—low, smooth, and amused.
"You can't see deception, Kairis. Not even creation can see its own reflection."
Kairis stopped at the doorway, his words cutting through the silence like a blade.
"I don't need to see it."
He turned slightly, crimson eyes burning.
"I feel it."
And as he left the hall, the lights flickered.
The Apostle of Deception smiled faintly to himself.
"Interesting," he whispered. "So the Creator's Apostle finally walks among us…"
Outside, thunder rolled.
And far above, in the folds of the Void—Lucien Dreamveil laughed softly.
"Good," he said, voice reverberating across the stars. "Let the pieces move. The game begins anew."