The Mask of Omega : Overload of Underworld

The heavy door of Darkness's private chamber closed behind her with a soft click, muffling the noise of the outside world. Her usually composed face was marred by a rare scowl, her mind racing through calculations with terrifying speed.

"The meeting is tonight. Time to ensure no threads remain loose."

With determined steps, she moved to the far corner of her room, where a sleek, obsidian-black device was embedded into the wall—a magic artifact of her own design. With a subtle wave of her hand, the artifact pulsed, casting a translucent veil over the entire room. It was a Sound and Signal Isolation Barrier, capable of thwarting even the most sophisticated surveillance spells. Only three individuals could bypass it: Lady Rubina, Lord Adrian, and Lady Royalle. No others.

As the room plunged into utter silence, Darkness's presence seemed to grow heavier. She extended a hand toward the floor, and her shadow, once an inert silhouette, began to ripple as though alive. Slowly, it rose, reshaping into a perfect mirror of herself. The copy knelt, head bowed.

"My Lord," it intoned.

This was no mere illusion—it was the embodiment of {Shadow}, an ancient ability Darkness had mastered. Unlike simple clones, this Shadow was her equal: carrying her consciousness, memories, instincts, and powers. To the outside world, it was Darkness. But it would not act unless commanded.

"You will remain here," she ordered, eyes narrowing. "Meditate until I return. If anything disturbs the peace, eliminate it."

"Yes, My Lord." The Shadow's response echoed with the same calm authority as its creator.

Satisfied, Darkness allowed a rare smirk to play on her lips. "Good."

Turning to a full-length mirror, she summoned her energy, activating an ability that had taken years to perfect—{Body Transformation}. Her body shifted, morphing with fluid grace. Raven-black hair melted into golden waves; her piercing brown eyes lightened into a regal shade of violet. Her figure broadened slightly, adding inches to her height, a firmer jawline, and broader shoulders. Even her aura twisted, masked beneath layers of illusion, exuding strength and noble arrogance.

Darkness was gone. In her place stood Omega, the golden-haired, purple-eyed overlord of the Underworld, Master of the Dark Wolf Syndicate.

Admiring his reflection with a sly grin, Omega muttered, "Let's see how well my little wolves have handled tonight's hunt."

With a flick of his wrist, Omega vanished into a shadow gateway, stepping into a forsaken corner of the capital.

---

The Black Fang District

The streets Omega emerged into were devoid of life. Even the rats seemed to avoid these alleys. Cracked cobblestones, crumbling houses, and the stench of rot filled the air. This was the Black Fang District—a territory that didn't exist on any official map, yet thrived under the iron grip of the Dark Wolf Syndicate.

Omega's polished boots echoed against the stones with deliberate leisure. His every step was watched. Hidden eyes observed him from shattered windows, rooftops, and darkened alleys. Whispers flowed through the shadows.

"The Master has arrived."

"Omega walks among us."

He approached an inconspicuous iron door beneath a crumbling archway. The moment he raised his hand, the door opened inward with mechanical precision, revealing a staircase spiraling down into the earth.

Torch-lit corridors gave way to an expansive underground hall. Here, an entirely different world thrived—mercenaries, spies, assassins, and merchants dealing in secrets. Yet, as Omega stepped in, silence fell like a hammer. Men and women alike bowed their heads, none daring to meet his gaze.

From the shadows emerged a figure—a man in a tailored gray suit with blood-red cuffs, the signature of Dark Wolf's inner circle. His right eye was covered with an enchanted eyepatch; his left gleamed with cold sharpness.

"Welcome, Lord Omega," the man greeted, bowing deeply. "The preparations are complete. The gift awaits."

"Lead me, Fang," Omega replied, his tone casual, yet carrying an undeniable edge of authority.

Fang guided him through winding tunnels until they reached a heavily fortified chamber. Inside, chained in place with suppression runes, knelt a young man—bruised, bloodied, yet alive. His noble attire lay in tatters, but the crest of House Harven, a Viscount's family, was still visible on his sleeve.

"You broke him already?" Omega asked, circling the kneeling man like a predator.

Fang bowed. "He sang like a canary, My Lord. Documents, contacts, hidden trade routes. He tried to bargain—offered his family's treasury for his life."

Omega's smile turned venomous. "Money is irrelevant. His crime was audacity."

He knelt before the young Viscount, lifting his chin with a gloved hand. "Tell me, Harven, did you think blackmailing House Elfred would grant you power? Did you believe playing puppet master in the shadows made you my equal?"

Harven's lips quivered, but no words came out.

Omega stood, his expression now devoid of amusement. "Release him."

Fang hesitated. "My Lord?"

"I said, release him. If he still breathes, he still serves a purpose."

The suppression chains clattered to the ground, and Harven collapsed, coughing violently. Omega extended a hand, his smile elegant, yet cold.

"Rise, Harven. I'm giving you a choice. Become my tool—or vanish from existence."

Harven's pale face twisted with fear, yet he understood the weight of those words. Death would be mercy.

"I… I'll serve."

Omega's expression softened, but his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "Good. Loyalty through fear is fragile. Loyalty through necessity is eternal. Welcome to Dark Wolf."

---

After business was concluded, Omega turned to Fang. "Now, where is that b**tard?"

Fang's expression darkened. "He's in the torture chamber, My Lord. Hated by all. He thinks his status can protect him."

Omega chuckled coldly. "If not for tonight's occasion, you, I, or some high-ranking officer would have taken matters into our own hands."

Fang started to respond, but stopped himself. He knew his Lord was right. Yet, he couldn't fathom why Omega had risked abducting someone whose disappearance could bring destruction upon them all.

'Could he be of royal blood? Abandoned by them? No… Royals never let a powerhouse like my Lord escape their control.'

His thoughts spiraled before he forced them away.

"Don't think too much. Time will answer."

"This way, My Lord." Fang proceeded ahead, leading Omega to a heavy mithril door—thick, unbreakable by human hands. Fang channeled his aura, muscles tensing as he pushed the door open. It yielded smoothly to his augmented strength.

Only Omega stepped inside.

The room was spacious, cold, and mercilessly clean. Torture tools lay meticulously arranged on a side table. Chains of Bromus steel bound a lone man to a reinforced platform, enchanted formations suppressing every ounce of his power.

Omega approached.

The man was barely clothed, his body covered in dried blood. His face, though smeared and battered, held a noble, handsome structure. Yet, strangely, there were no fresh wounds. Only scars of dried blood.

'They healed him just enough to make him comprehend me,' Omega mused.

Omega stopped in front of him, raising a familiar pendant—the same one he always carried.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.

The man's eyes snapped open, wide with recognition. Despite his weakened state, his voice held authority.

"Who are you?" he demanded, teeth gritted.

Omega's lips curled into a smile—one that promised nothing good.

"I am the consequence of your actions," he said coldly. "And you're about to face them."

The man's eyes widened in shock.