Luon callaghan

The message wasn't just written in blood. It was dripping from the ceiling.

Arka stood at the entrance of the underground hideout, staring at the grotesque display before him. The Morgan Gang's so-called "message" was smeared across the concrete wall in thick crimson strokes. The words were uneven, scrawled by an unsteady hand, but the meaning was clear:

"WE ARE COMING FOR YOU, ARKA DARSHANA."

Below it, a severed hand hung from a rusty hook, swaying slightly in the dim, flickering light.

Arka sighed, rubbing his temple. Dramatic bastards.

Zain, standing beside him, let out a low whistle. "Damn. Points for creativity."

Arka turned to his subordinate. "Who found this?"

The man—Jayanth, one of the newer recruits—gulped before answering. "One of our scouts, boss. He—he puked when he saw it."

Zain chuckled. "Understandable. I mean, look at that presentation."

Arka ignored him. "Where's the scout now?"

"Outside. Still throwing up."

Arka nodded. "Get him water. And tell him to stop being a little bitch."

Jayanth scrambled away, leaving Arka and Zain alone with the blood-drenched wall.

"So," Zain mused, tilting his head, "what's the plan?"

Arka exhaled slowly, his mind already working through possibilities. The Morgan Gang was weak. They'd never try something this bold unless…

"They've got outside help," Arka muttered.

Zain grinned. "Bingo. And let me guess—Heavenly Demons?"

"Either them or someone even worse."

Zain's smile widened. "Now that is an interesting thought."

Arka wasn't in the mood for his amusement. "I need information. Who's backing them? Who's giving them the balls to threaten me?"

Zain shrugged. "I could find out, but it'll cost you."

Arka shot him a glare.

Zain laughed, raising his hands. "Relax, relax! I'll do it for free. You know why?"

"Because you're annoying?"

"Because I like you, Arka."

Arka stared at him blankly.

Zain smirked. "Alright, fine. I also want to see what happens next. You, the Morgan Gang, the Heavenly Demons—this whole mess is entertaining. And trust me, I hate being bored."

Arka sighed. "Fine. Just get me the information."

Zain saluted mockingly. "As you wish, 11th Ātman."

---

Two Hours Later

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of old wooden chairs.

Four men sat around a dimly lit table, their expressions tense. These weren't just any thugs. They were survivors—remnants of the Morgan Gang, the ones who hadn't been slaughtered in the first wave.

And right now, they were scared.

"You sure about this?" one of them whispered.

The leader—an older man with a jagged scar across his lip—nodded. "We don't have a choice. If we don't act first, we're dead."

"But going after him?" Another man shuddered. "That's suicide."

Scar-Lip's gaze hardened. "Not if we have them on our side."

A hush fell over the room.

"You mean… the Heavenly Demons?"

Scar-Lip nodded. "They reached out to us first. Said they'd help us get rid of Arka Darshana—for good."

The youngest in the group shifted uneasily. "I heard they're not even human…"

Scar-Lip's eyes darkened. "Does it matter? Right now, they're our only shot."

A heavy silence followed.

Then—

A faint click.

The sound of a gun being cocked.

The men barely had time to react before the room was flooded with violence.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three of them dropped instantly, blood spraying across the table. The youngest barely managed to turn before a blade slid across his throat, cutting off his scream.

Scar-Lip fell back, clutching his gun, eyes darting wildly. "Who—?!"

A boot slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

And then—

A voice. Cold. Amused.

"You should've picked a different enemy."

Scar-Lip's breath hitched. He knew that voice.

Arka Darshana crouched beside him, wiping blood off his knife with a handkerchief. His expression was neutral, almost bored.

Scar-Lip coughed, tasting iron. "H-How did you—?"

"You think I don't have ears everywhere?" Arka's voice was quiet, almost gentle. "You think I wouldn't know?"

Scar-Lip tried to speak, but blood bubbled from his lips.

Arka leaned in closer. "The Heavenly Demons are using you as pawns. And you were stupid enough to believe they'd actually help you."

Scar-Lip's vision blurred. He struggled to lift his gun, but Arka caught his wrist, twisting it until the weapon clattered to the ground.

"Shh," Arka whispered. "Just accept it."

And then—

He plunged the knife into Scar-Lip's throat.

---

Back at the hideout, Zain whistled as he read the report. "You didn't waste time, huh?"

Arka was cleaning his hands, his expression unreadable. "Loose ends don't tie themselves."

Zain chuckled. "True, true. But you do realize this means the Heavenly Demons will come for you directly now, right?"

Arka smirked. "Good."

Zain raised an eyebrow. "You're actually looking forward to it?"

Arka leaned back against the chair. "They want a war? Fine. Let them come."

Zain grinned. "Man, you really are interesting."

Arka's gaze darkened slightly. "They think they know who I am." He exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the table. "But they don't."

Zain's eyes gleamed. "And do you?"

A long silence.

Then, finally—

Arka smiled.

"I'm starting to."

The room was silent except for the ticking of the old clock on the desk. Arka leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

This Arka Darshana… he had more enemies than friends.

That much was clear. The Morgan Gang, the government's new organization, Heavenly Demons, and now this whole 'Ātman' system—his life was one tangled mess of enemies, betrayals, and unanswered questions.

He had always believed in one thing—truth. But now, even that seemed distorted.

To uncover the truth, he needed to survive first.

He needed to eliminate every threat before he could truly focus on his real goal.

His research on the Realms.

Zain, who had been casually observing him, suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, what are you thinking about so seriously?"

Arka shook his head. "Nothing."

But his mind was still racing.

What the hell is this 'Ātman' thing anyway?

6th, 11th—why did it sound like some ranking system? Who decided these numbers? And why was he, Arka Darshana, at the center of it?

It made no sense.

"Zain," Arka said suddenly, "what exactly is this 'Ātman' concept?"

Zain smirked. "Finally curious, huh? Took you long enough."

"Just answer the damn question."

Zain sat on the desk, crossing his legs. "Alright, listen carefully. The 'Ātmans' of the Underworld weren't just randomly chosen. They were created."

Arka raised an eyebrow. "Created? By who?"

"Luon Callaghan."

The name sent a chill down Arka's spine.

The strongest mafia boss of all time. A man whose very name was whispered in fear across the entire Underworld.

And yet…

"I've heard of him," Arka muttered, "but never about this 'Ātman' thing."

Zain nodded. "That's because the reason for their creation was never made public. Even within the Underworld, very few know the truth."

Arka narrowed his eyes. "And you do?"

Zain gave a sly grin. "I have my sources."

Arka remained silent. He knew Zain well enough to recognize when he wouldn't reveal more.

"Fine," he said. "Tell me about these Ātmans."

Zain extended his fingers, counting them off.

"There are 11 Ātmans in total. The strongest individuals in the Underworld, personally chosen—no, designed—by Luon Callaghan himself."

1. Lucian Cai

2. Theron Wei

3. Maximus Lei

4. Cassius Long

5. Adrian Feng

6. Zain Mark

7. Damian Zhu

8. Felix Han

9. Orion Ming

10. Victor Shen

11. Arka Darshana

Arka stared at the list.

He was the 11th Ātman.

It wasn't just a title—it was a position in something much bigger than he had ever imagined.

And yet…

"You still haven't told me why they were created," Arka said.

Zain's grin faded slightly. "That… even I don't know."

Arka frowned. "Then what do you know?"

Zain leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious.

"What I do know," he said, "is that the government sees us as a threat."

Arka's eyes darkened.

"The Heavenly Demons," Zain continued, "aren't just any organization. They were created for one purpose—to take down all 11 Ātmans of the Underworld."

Silence filled the room.

Arka slowly processed the information.

The government had created an elite force specifically to eliminate them.

Which meant…

His enemies weren't just rival gangs or corrupt officials anymore.

It was the entire damn system.

Arka exhaled sharply. "This keeps getting better and better."

Zain chuckled. "Yeah, well. You wanted the truth, didn't you?"

Before Arka could respond, something strange happened.

The world around him shifted.

The walls, the floor, even the air itself seemed to melt away.

For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating.

Then he realized—he was no longer in the room.

He was standing in an endless void.

A deep, starless abyss stretched in all directions.

His footsteps echoed unnaturally as he took a cautious step forward.

His m

ind screamed for an explanation, but nothing made sense.

"What… the fuck is this?"

His voice barely carried in the empty space.

Then, he saw something.

Something that shut him up completely.

His breath hitched.

His hands clenched.

His entire body went rigid.

"WH-WHAT IS THIS?!!"