It's currently around exactly 7:00 a.m in the morning.
Sunlight can be seen dim through the windows.
Loki layed on the bed, pillow still under his head.
He stretched as he woke up, joints popping.
He went to the bathroom, still wearing sleeping clothes.
Toothbrush. Mint paste. Scrub, rinse, spit.
Mirror reflection: dark hair messy, bright blue eyes with a slight boredom, same as usual.
He changed clothes to a dark jacket over a plain shirt, and black trousers.
Breakfast was some standard scrambled eggs with whatever stuff lingered in the fridge.
He ate standing at the counter, staring out the window at the bustling streets below.
People hurried to work, cars honked in impatience, a street vendor selling out fresh croissants.
Same stuff everyday. It's almost kinda depressing at this point—nothing changed and nothing will be changed.
Loki chewed, his mind drifting to walking again outside.
He let the plate flew at the sink, rinsing itself gravity obeying him.
Grabbed his phone, and headed towards the door.
The lock opened on its own as he approached.
But just as his hand touched the knob, his phone ringed in his pocket—a vibration that made him pause.
He pulled it out, glancing at the screen: Rémi calling.
Loki sighed, thumb hovering over the decline button for a second before changing his mind, clicking the answer. "What?"
Rémi's voice burst through, enthusiastic and breathless, like he'd been waiting all morning to spill. "Loki! Dude, perfect timing—you're not gonna believe this. The Adventurer Association's opening up entrance exams tomorrow!"
"Nationwide, double slots, the whole deal. It's lasting all week—scouting from academies, rural spots, everything."
"With all the monster surges lately, they're desperate for new recruitments."
Loki leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow arched even though Rémi couldn't see it. "And?"
"And you should enroll! Come on, man—with what you did at my park that time, turning that wyvern inside out without breaking a sweat? You'd get to Peak-S Rank or maybe even Z-Rank without a sweat!"
"Instant rank-up, fame, money—hell, you could be an very strong adventurer in no time. I can handle the financial problem, to get you registered easy. What do you say? Please say yes..."
"He definitely losed his mind. He want me start my hero arc? Saving people is boring." Loki thought, he wasn't interested in guilds, ranks, or playing hero—or maybe his just too lazy.
The routine was boring, sure, but it was his no spotlights, no obligations. "Pass," he said flatly. "Not my thing."
Rémi sputtered on the other end.
"What? But—dude, think about it! The exams are hyped—PR campaigns, heroes emerging, all that. You'll be set for life!"
"Already am," Loki replied, pushing off the wall and opening the door. "Gotta go. Talk later."
He hung up before Rémi could protest, pocketing the phone with a shrug.
"Man... does he not have character development? That was his best chance to become a Hero. Typical Loki." Rémi muttered against his breath.
The hallway echoed Loki's footsteps as he headed out.
Another day, same scene.
Loki forgot to close his TV and left it open.
The news flickered across the TV screens throughout Paris, the morning broadcast.
Anchor voice cut through the air:
"Breaking news, a high-ranking member of a Demon Cult, Identified as Varak, has been captured."
"Police Department reported that Varak was known for his demonic tattoos and leadership in several spy operations, he was apprehended after a fierce chase through the city streets."
"He's currently under heavy guard at Central Headquarters, undergoing intense interrogation."
The screen cut to shaky cellphone footage from the Tuileries Garden—Varak's wild sprint, police barricades closing in, his cursed staff dropping as he surrendered.
Commentators speculated wildly:
"This could be a major blow to the Cult. But what are their real motives? Rumors swirl of ancient artifacts, demonic revivals—could this tie into the recent monster surges?"
— Paris, Central Police Headquarters —
Interrogation Room
Deep within the headquarters' fortified bowels, in a dimly lit interrogation room reinforced with mana-suppressing wards, Varak sat tied to a metal chair bolted to the floor.
His wrists and ankles were bound with enchanted cuffs that drained any lingering dark mana, his bald head bowed under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Bruises marred his face from Yvonne's punch, his demonic tattoos faded and still, like dormant snakes.
Blood crusted his nose, his robes confiscated and replaced with a plain orange jumpsuit.
He glared at the one-way mirror, knowing eyes watched from beyond.
The door hissed open with a hydraulic sigh.
The commander—Commander Lion wearing a dark coat, he has multiple badges at his suit, in his sixties. (His the guy who operated and lead during the Godzilla incident.)
He then proceed to walk closer to Varak.
His presence filled the room like a storm front, eyes sharp as a predator's.
Beside him stood Yvonne, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her silver hair tied back, burns from the fireball bandaged but visible under her fresh leather gear.
Her dagger was sheathed at her hip, but her stance screamed readiness, eyes locked on Varak with cold disdain.
Varak lifted his head, a weak smirk twisting his lips.
"Well, if it isn't the Association's lapdog and his pet assassin. Come to gloat?"
Commander Lion pulled out the opposite chair, sitting with deliberate calm, his voice a low rumble. "Gloat? No. Answers. Your Cult's been stirring pots."
"What's the endgame, Varak? Reviving Beelzebub? And that artifact under the Tower—what's it for?"
Varak chuckled, a wet, pained sound. "You think I'll spill? The Prince will rise, and your pretty city will get swollen by the insects."
A distant alarm blared suddenly, red lights flashing.
The building shook faintly, as if from an underground tremor.
Lion's radio crackled: "Commander—Multiple Cults members have breached the lower levels! We need—!"
"AHHH!" He screamed after the radio getting cut off.
Yvonne uncrossed her arms, dagger half-drawn.
Varak's smirk widened into a grin. "Looks like my friends are here for a visit..."
The room plunged into chaos, the cliffhanger hanging like a blade about to fall.