"It may all be connected to one thing. The Demon Cult."
The room fell silent for several seconds, each council member processing Vice President Moreau's words.
Lefevre leaned back, her face grim. "They're after that artifact?" she asked her voice has a mix of curiosity.
Sartre nodded her head and responded, "It is possible, however it should also be pointed out that the artifact is a divine made."
"And its sole purpose is to protect the whole Paris with its barrier so why do they seek on such divine thing if their goal is to revive archdemons?"
Moreau her hands are clasped together, with each of her fingers sliding between both of her wrist creating a secure and close grip while his chin rest on it.
"No... that artifact has a sigil mark of prince of demons, Beelzebub."
"Don't tell me..." Lefevre muttered against her lips.
Moreau then commented, "Our only way from stopping them is either Royd will stay here on France or Roxanne will come back from the dungeon raid."
Sartre adds, "Archdemons are considered Triple-S threat or worse... Z-Threat. We have no way of preventing them without any Z-Rankers help."
President Abelard had a stern and anger expression in his face by just hearing that demon's name.
He stand up from the chair, his right hand slammed down on the oak table so hard it made the table shake and the holographic projector flickered for a moment.
"I will not let this nation fall to fanatics and their dark machinations.
"We will deploy every available asset—Adventurers, our elite military divisions, even the GVP creations."
He straightened his jacket, his eyes ran across the member council.
"I don't care if it means every last one of us lays down our lives to stop them. I'll hunt those pieces of feces for as long as I'm alive."
With an angry expression in his face he turned around walking away, his knuckles went white from anger, viens bulging.
"Do NOT let a single one of them touch the Eiffel Tower. The meeting is dismissed."
The door was opened by the escort at his approach, vanishing into the meeting room.
Council members expressions now hardened with purpose.
— Paris, 7th Arrondissement —
Back to Loki's Apartment
Rémi's eyes widen as he spotted a PS5 laying on the corner of Loki's gaming setup, controllers charging.
"Dude, you have PS5? We gotta play Tekken 8 before I bounce of. Come on, just one match."
Loki grabbed a controller and tossed the other to Rémi. "Fine."
They sank back into the couch, the TV switching from news to the game's vibrant menu. Rémi picked his main— a flashy fighter with combo-heavy moves—while Loki selected his go-to character, fingers already itching over the buttons.
The match loaded: intense music blared, the arena a neon-lit urban sprawl under a stormy sky.
The first round kicked off with Rémi landing a quick juggle, smirking triumphantly.
"See? Told you I'd—wait, what?" Loki's counter came swift and merciless, a perfect combo that drained half Rémi's health bar in seconds.
Rémi leaned forward, mashing buttons frantically. "No way, how'd you block that?"
Loki didn't respond, his expression cool as he sidestepped and unleashed a rage art, the screen flashing with dramatic effects.
KO.
Rémi groaned, "Not fair! Rematch!" he complained.
They played two more rounds.
Rémi scoring a lucky win in the second round
Loki to dominate him in the third round.
"You're a monster at this," Rémi admitted, setting the controller down on the floor, with a shake of his head.
Rémi took a glanced at his watch, eyes widening.
"Whoa, it's getting late. I should head out—train back home before the evening rush hits."
He stood up, letting out a grin.
"Thanks for letting me in. Stay safe, yeah? If another monster pops up, I'll be texting you first."
Loki didn't stand, just leaned back on the couch with a simple nod, his blue eyes glances towards the window where the sun was dipping low.
"Don't go dying on the way."
Rémi laughed it off, waving his hand as he headed towards the door.
"Hah, without you around? I'm invincible." He said confidently,
"See you soon, man." The door closed shut behind him, leaving the apartment quiet once more.
Loki stretched his arms above his head.
"Evening already?" he thought, glancing at his phone for few seconds in the coffee table.
His stomach made a faint rumble sound—he hadn't eaten anything since that café latte.
"Man, I forgot to eat lunch this afternoon."
With a lazy sigh, he pocketed his phone, slipping both of his hands on the dark jacket (Blood stains are mostly gone) as he head out.
The streets below were buzzing back to life: shops reopening, people emerged from the evacuation center and honk from the traffics were back.
Loki blended into the crowd, heading towards the nearest grocery store—a small market in the corner.
Meanwhile... in Gare du Nord Train Station
There were barely any people in the train station, the monster was announced dead just few hours ago after all.
Before Rémi foot even hit the floor of the train station—rough hands grabbed him from behind in a violent way.
A captor was covering his mouth, preventing any screams that he will let out.
A few gasps escaped from his lips, his heart beating fast, as he don't know what to do in this kind of situation.
He always rely on Loki who got overpowered superpowers, he's always been pathetic and a coward loser.
His eye started fainting. "Sorry Loki... I guess I couldn't protect myself after all." He thought, as he fell unconscious.
The captors quickly took him inside of a dark van.
The van peeled away, tires screeching, vanishing into the traffic.
After for a few moments he woke up.
Inside, Rémi struggled against the kidnappers—three masked men in dark suits, one pinning him down while another zip-tied his wrists.
A knife was an inch away from his neck.
Rémi resisted but it was futile, "Release me!" he yelled.