Murderella, huh?

Klaus walked through the underground base of Yggdrasil, the feeling it gave him all too familiar.

"Laboratory…" he murmured, eyes glinting as he took in the sterile white corridors stretched before him, illuminated by flickering green ceiling lights.

This place reeked of clinical rot—of secrets stitched into the walls and abandoned ethics.

Well… who was he to judge?

If it weren't for the Creed—created by Noah—maybe he would have abandoned all ethics and morality in his search for answers.

…Hmm.

No. He wouldn't.

The Creed existed to ensure order among the scientists of the Ascendancy.

But if he really wanted to start experimenting—not just on death row inmates, but on random people—no one could've stopped him.

He just chose not to.

Cloaking himself in an illusory veil with his Ascended ability, Klaus merged seamlessly with the background. To the eye, he was nothing more than a ripple on a wall, a white blur where a man should be.

His steps were slow, deliberate.

And despite the tension, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

He was a scientist, after all.

And this—this—was someone else's mad brilliance.

He couldn't help but be intrigued.

Well… after the battle, he'd take everything of value from this place.

---

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the base, Driver and Isaac had begun the operation.

Gunfire echoed through the tight halls as Driver's drones opened fire—ripping through both guards and researchers with cold precision. The confined space limited her full range of combat abilities, but it didn't matter. She didn't need all her power to butcher Awakened fighters and ordinary humans alike.

The drones skittered through corridors like metal insects, mapping out the labyrinth of the underground structure and feeding real-time data back to Driver's interface.

She wasn't even paying that much attention to the battle—her focus was on giving orders, tracking enemy movements, and mapping the base.

Eyes locked on the glowing hologram in front of her, her fingers danced across the controls with mechanical precision.

Isaac, on the other hand, was the opposite of focused.

His battle style was chaotic, unpredictable, and almost casual in its lethality and beauty.

While not many knew it, Isaac was one of the greatest swordsmen to ever exist—if not the greatest.

His sword shimmered under the artificial lights, each movement a strange, choreographed blend of skill and… luck.

Luck was the foundation of his battle style.

Incorporating something as bizarre and dangerous as luck into combat was already a stunning achievement—but combining it with his aspect abilities with such precision? That was downright ridiculous… and impressive.

Luck and probability manipulation were dangerous abilities on their own.

Take this example: he's fighting alongside his cohort when an enemy suddenly throws a knife at him. You'd think his luck would save him, right?

But it's not that simple—because his luck might become someone else's misfortune.

Isaac once lost a comrade because he couldn't control his ability.

The knife meant for him struck his ally instead… and killed him.

That's why, while his power could save lives, it could just as easily end them—unless he managed to control it.

He took a lazy step back, metal clashing against metal as sparks flew from a deflected blow. Then, without missing a beat, he sidestepped and lunged—his sword slicing toward his opponent's abdomen.

The man grinned, already dodging, muscles tensed as he leapt back to safety—

CRACK.

One of Driver's drones misfired. The shot struck the support beam behind him. The ceiling groaned.

And then it collapsed.

Stone and steel came down with a roar, crushing the man beneath tons of debris.

Isaac laughed, squatting next to the half-buried corpse with a grin, his tone cheerful and mocking.

"Of course," he said. "The strike was just a feint."

He tilted his head as the man—still barely clinging to life—reached out in desperation.

Fingers outstretched, trembling.

Isaac leaned closer.

"Scissors beats paper," he whispered. "Now... what should I take?"

He tapped his chin, feigning thought. "Mmm. Thanks for the essence. I think I'll be needing it. Hehe."

Without hesitation, he drove his blade into the man's chest, twisting it cleanly through the heart.

Blood bubbled at the man's lips as a sharp crack split the air.

An arrow flew toward Isaac's throat, gleaming in the low light.

But a split-second before impact, another chunk of ceiling gave way and collapsed, intercepting the arrow and saving him by pure chance—or perhaps not.

Driver, watching from across the corridor, narrowed her eyes and let out an irritated snort.

The pairing of these two had always been a mystery.

She lived and breathed calculation. Every decision, every movement, every breath was measured and modeled.

Isaac? He always gambled—risked his life even on the stupidest things.

As for how those two ended up together?

Well, that's something even they don't know.

---

Meanwhile, Noah and Lich were calmly walking through the underground base, chatting as if they were on a leisurely stroll rather than in the middle of a battle.

Well… it helped that the dead were doing most of the fighting for them.

Undead beasts tore through Awakened enemies with brutal efficiency, and with every new corpse, the legion of the dead continued to grow.

Noah observed the battlefield in silence, his eyes glowing faintly as he harvested souls with his attribute [Ghost King]. With [Gravekeeper], he stored the collected souls within his soul sea—a vast vault of echoing whispers. His dormant ability, [Gatekeeper], allowed him to release them when needed. But without his other attribute, [Guide of the Damned], he wouldn't be able to properly channel those souls into fresh corpses to raise them as soldiers.

His aspect abilities and attributes worked in near-perfect synergy, forming something as elegant as it was terrifying.

A living necropolis.

With a sigh, Noah let an enemy close in—a young woman with a heavy gauntlet sprinting toward him. The moment she launched her punch, a blast of energy surged from her fist, roaring through the hallway like a cannon shot.

But it didn't hit him.

Instead, it struck one of his undead beasts, which shattered into bone and blood—but shielded its master without hesitation.

By the time the blast cleared, Noah was already upon her.

He seized her by the neck and effortlessly lifted her into the air. His Ascended strength overwhelmed her Awakened resistance with ease. She gasped, struggling.

Then her neck… simply vanished.

Or rather, it rotted away beneath his fingers.

Noah released her. Her body crumpled to the floor and continued to decompose—skin blackening, muscle liquefying, eyes dissolving into their sockets.

He spared her a single glance.

Then moved on, quiet as ever, leaving only rot and silence in his wake.

---

Meanwhile, the north tunnel was a vision of chaos—raging, smoking, and thoroughly incinerated.

Diego, true to his personality, had decided that "holding back" was for cowards, and librarians, and probably Isaac.

With a manic grin splitting his face, he cloaked his fists in roaring flame and launched a punch that erupted into a towering column of fire, engulfing the entire corridor in a hellish inferno. The explosion echoed like a dragon's scream, setting stone and steel ablaze.

Behind him, Tatiana sighed loudly—dramatically, as if hoping the smoke would carry her exasperation straight into his skull.

As they walked through the scorched remains, Tatiana stepped over the smoldering corpses and bits of charcoal that had once been people. Some were still twitching. Others were little more than blackened skeletons hugging the walls like sad murals.

"Could you, I don't know, not set the hallway on fire?" she muttered. "Just once?"

"No promises," Diego said, still grinning like a kid in a candy shop made of napalm.

Tatiana rolled her eyes.

She couldn't fight properly in here. Not with Diego treating the base like his personal barbecue pit.

If she unleashed [Plague], the entire team would go down along with the enemies.

So instead, she relied on [Threads of Misery]—glimmering white strands that snaked out like spider silk, ensnaring enemies and wrapping them into twitching, miserable cocoons.

Then came [Emotions], her favorite. She gently tweaked their feelings—massaging panic into calm, anger into lethargy, rebellion into sweet, docile surrender.

"Shhh. Just sleep now, you angry little meatball," she cooed at one soldier as he drooled and fainted in his cocoon.

Truth be told, Tatiana didn't like killing people.

If life had been kinder, she'd be back home lounging on a velvet couch, surrounded by her brothers, flipping through fashion magazines and complaining about which designer ruined shoulder pads this year. She liked sparkles, silk, jewelry, and those shoes that made her 12% more terrifying in combat—high heels, baby.

Sometimes, she just wanted to feel like a normal girl.

Not a killer. Not a psychiatrist.

Just… someone cute, happy, and maybe a little dramatic.

Still… if someone dared touch her family?

She'd redecorate the walls with their intestines and sleep like a baby.

But today wasn't one of those days.

Today was a "be a silly little girl in heels" kind of day. Hehe.

Tatiana smiled to herself—until a grimy, trembling hand reached out and grabbed her ankle.

Her smile dropped.

Her mascara didn't even flinch.

A man, crying and half-burnt, was clinging to her leg like she was his last hope.

"P-please—"

SHLK.

Without hesitation, Tatiana slammed her heel directly into his eye, driving it in with surgical precision.

"Ugh. Don't touch me, you dirty little maggot. Humph!"

She flicked her golden hair over her shoulder, wiped her heel on the floor, and strutted forward with her usual haughty elegance—like a bloodstained runway model.

Behind her, Diego stared, blankly.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Just a silly girl who likes fashion and hates fighting... Sure. Bet, dawg."

He shook his head, watching her hips sway like she was walking into a gala and not an active war zone.

He couldn't tell if he should be afraid, impressed, or start calling her Princess Murderella.