THIRD PERSON'S POV

Demon listened, her face twisted in irritation, as Ice and Claire's conversation crackled through her earpiece. She could only make out bits and pieces. Apparently, Claire didn’t want her listening in on every detail, but the fragments she heard were enough to tell her Ice was hiding something. Not that it surprised her. Ice was always scheming, always planning behind a mask of calm, while Claire clung to him, feeding Demon information... when it suited her.

Claire owed Demon her life. If Demon hadn’t saved her from her own family's trap, she'd have been dead long ago, her death staged to manipulate Ice’s anger against Demon. So Claire had positioned herself within the Black Government as Demon’s spy, slipping her key pieces of information. But lately, Claire seemed... hesitant. Like she was wavering between her loyalty to Demon and her loyalty to Ice.

Demon clenched her jaw as she tossed the earpiece aside. “I listened in, thinking they'd be having some fun," she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. "But it’s the same old useless scheming.”

*Swish—*

Before she could react, a blur of movement lunged from behind. Demon barely had time to twist aside. A sniper bullet whistled past her and struck the attacker, dropping it instantly. She glanced toward where the shot had come from, lifting her hand in a quick thumbs-up to her unseen sniper.

“Nice shot,” she murmured, before a second figure darted out from the shadows, lunging at her from the front. This one had a number tattooed across its neck—297.

“Kill us!” the copy rasped, dropping to its knees before her. “Please… We don’t want to be used any longer. End it. Set us free.”

Demon’s eyes narrowed in disdain. “Kill yourselves, then. You don’t get to just order me around.” Her tone was dismissive, her gaze cold.

“We’ve tried.” The copy’s voice was filled with desperation. “We’re programmed not to die. Only you have the strength to end us. We can’t even stop ourselves. Please… destroy us.”

For a moment, Demon just stared, her expression unreadable. So these copies were trapped, caught in endless suffering. She almost felt... something. But she squashed it quickly, her voice coming out sharper.

“Fine. Any last wishes?”

The copy managed a weak smile. “May you live—”

He didn’t get to finish. Demon’s scythe flashed in a swift arc, silencing him in a single stroke. His body crumpled at her feet, finally free of the pain that had bound him. But his words lingered, crawling under her skin.

“Live long?” she scoffed, disgusted. “Who said I wanted to live long?”

The thought made her stomach twist. She’d fought, bled, and torn her way through life, carving a path littered with enemies and ghosts alike. The idea of dragging on year after year in this relentless cycle made her sick. She wasn’t here to survive. She was here to leave her mark, to burn brightly and quickly—and when the time came, to vanish like smoke.

But for now, there were more copies to destroy, more enemies to face, and a twisted game to finish. Demon tightened her grip on her scythe, her eyes flashing with lethal intent. If Ice, the Black Government, or even Claire thought they could control her, they were in for a rude awakening.

With one last glance at the fallen copy, she moved forward, her steps silent but deadly, ready to unleash the chaos that was her calling card.

---

In the dim, oppressive silence of the eighth basement, Vladimir's voice broke the stillness, sharp with disbelief.

"Dad… why are you helping Hyra?" His voice trembled just slightly, though he tried to hide it.

Mr. Azakura looked at his son, eyes reflecting years of guilt and wisdom. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to atone for the sins our family has piled upon her. Your wife murdered her mother, you deceived her into believing she and Nathan were twins, and then you left her—abandoned her when she needed you most.”

Vladimir’s jaw tightened. “But that doesn’t justify you siding with—”

"Hyra is doing what you never could,” Mr. Azakura interrupted, his tone cutting. “She’s done more to clean up the filth that festers in this country than you ever dared. The Underground was riddled with scum, plagues that no one had the courage to eliminate. She did. She dismantled corrupt government leaders, removed them from power—people you spent years trying to uproot.”

“That was done through violence, Dad. She’s a killer.”

Mr. Azakura’s voice grew colder. “And you haven’t killed? Yet they call you a hero, and her a villain. You stole her youth, her innocence, and any hope of a normal life. And now you have the audacity to condemn her?”

A muscle in Vladimir’s cheek twitched. “I couldn’t love her. She’s a constant reminder of Eli. I blame her for everything…”

“She’s not at fault!” Mr. Azakura’s voice echoed, laced with an emotion Vladimir hadn’t heard in years. “The fault is yours, Vladimir. You abandoned a six-year-old girl—left her with a maid and a butler, both weaker than she was. Did you ever wonder what that was like for her? She was just a kid, scared and alone.”

The weight of Mr. Azakura’s words fell heavy in the stale air. Vladimir looked down, his fists clenched, swallowing a pang of something uncomfortably close to regret.

For a moment, they stood in silence. Then Vladimir’s voice came out barely a whisper. “Maybe… Maybe I can make it right, by fulfilling her wish.”

Mr. Azakura froze. “What?”

Vladimir raised his eyes, a dangerous determination gleaming in them. “I’ll give her what she’s always wanted—an end. I’ll break free from here any minute, and I’ll join forces with Ice. Together, we’ll fulfill her wish to die.”

“You can’t be serious!” Mr. Azakura stood abruptly, his chair clattering behind him. “You would kill her? She’s your—”

His voice was cut off with a sudden, gurgling gasp. A glint of metal flashed in the dim light as a figure emerged from the shadows, plunging a blade into Mr. Azakura’s neck. Blood spilled as he staggered, eyes widening in shock and betrayal.

Vladimir’s lips curled into a cruel smile, watching as Mr. Azakura sank to the floor, struggling to breathe. “You’re late,” he muttered, glancing at the man now smirking beside him.

Mr. Salvador chuckled, wiping blood off his blade. “Traffic was brutal. But I made it.” He untied the ropes binding Vladimir’s hands, the two men sharing a look of dark understanding.

“Welcome back, Vladimir.”

“I’m back,” Vladimir replied, his voice laced with bitterness. He looked down at his fallen father, who lay gasping on the floor, betrayed by his own son. Then he turned to Mr. Salvador, eyes gleaming. “Now… let’s finish what we started.”

As they turned to leave, the echoes of Mr. Azakura’s final words lingered in the air, haunting the space with unspoken guilt. And somewhere, deep within, Vladimir felt a ghost of that six-year-old girl’s pain—the daughter he had abandoned, and the child he was now determined to end.

---
In the darkness of a cramped cage, Ethan stirred, disoriented and sore. His wrists were chafed, tied tightly to the cold metal bars.

“How did this happen?” he muttered to himself, the weight of the betrayal settling in. After receiving Demon's orders to carry out her plan, Salvador had blindsided him, attacking from behind and putting him to sleep. Now, he woke, finding himself imprisoned. Ethan clenched his fists, realization and anger burning through him. “Salvador, you traitor…”

He leaned back, exhaling slowly, accepting his situation. There was no escape now, no point in struggling against the restraints. “Demon, I hope you can handle this,” he whispered. This betrayal was the deepest cut yet.

---

In the White Monarchy’s headquarters, Vladimir and Salvador stood among the bodies of unconscious guards, all taken down as they swept through the place like a relentless storm. The quiet aftermath felt eerily heavy, the silence punctuated only by the occasional drip of water from the stone ceiling.

“Where are Ethan and Saphora, Kurt?” Vladimir asked, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the mountain of defeated enemies around them.

Salvador’s expression was impassive. “Saphora and Kurt are handling other work. As for Ethan…” He shrugged casually. “I put him where he belongs. He was far too devoted to Demon’s cause.”

Vladimir scoffed. “Why do so many powerful people follow her?” he asked, gaze falling on the unconscious bodies around him.

Salvador’s voice softened, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “Believe it or not, Hyra has a good side…”

But Vladimir barely noticed; his attention was already drifting, focused on their next target. Together, the two continued, eliminating anyone who crossed their path. When they reached the lab holding the ten district leaders, Salvador unlocked the door and strode in with grim determination.

Inside, the ten figures looked up, their faces a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

“Dad?” Nathan’s voice wavered, shock written across his face. “Why are you here?” His voice caught, filled with both relief and dread. A part of him feared that this meant Hyra had lost. No matter what had happened, she still had a place in his heart—a sister he could never quite let go of.

“We’re here to set you free!” Salvador declared, moving toward the restraints holding Sky in place. He reached out, preparing to release his son.

“No!” Joshua’s voice rang out sharply, making everyone freeze. He glared at Salvador, his expression fierce. “You shouldn’t have let us go! This will ruin her plan!”

Salvador’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Vladimir looked between them, surprised. “You—who’ve hated Demon all this time—now want her to succeed?”

Joshua’s jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. Her life doesn’t have to end like this.”

Vladimir’s patience snapped. “She’s manipulating you all!” He grabbed Joshua by the collar, fury in his voice. “She lies to you! She just wants to control you!”

“No,” came a weak voice from the corner. Sky raised his head, defiant. “It wasn’t Demon who convinced us. It was Jarvis. He’s the one who told us why he chose to stand by her.”

Salvador stilled, his hand dropping. “Jarvis?” he echoed, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Yes,” Sky nodded, his voice strengthening. “He told us everything.” But before he could say more, Salvador quickly moved, pressing a needle into his neck, and Sky slumped forward, unconscious.

“Enough,” Salvador said coldly, watching as Sky fell into silence. He cast a wary look at Vladimir. “It seems Jarvis anticipated this. He took precautions.”

Vladimir’s expression darkened. “We’re too late,” he muttered, realizing that Jarvis had planted seeds of loyalty they hadn’t expected.

---

**Flashback – Before the Tea Party in Demon's Room**

Jarvis walked into the room where the district leaders sat in silence, casting suspicious glares at him. He pulled a chair to the center of the room, sitting down with a casual grin.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Talk? We don’t trust you,” Cyrus replied bitterly. “You’re one of them—a White Monarchy dog.”

Jarvis chuckled. “Oh, come on. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead by now. The Elders wanted you six feet under long ago.” He let his words hang in the air, watching as confusion flickered across their faces.

The leaders exchanged glances, uncertain. As much as they wanted to dismiss him, a small part of them wondered why they were still alive.

“Go on,” Nathan finally said, his voice steady. “Tell us the truth.”

Jarvis’s grin widened. “Alright then. The Elders wanted you dead—planned to pin it all on Demon to turn Ice against her. Demon saw through this, so she went along with the plan. She made sure drones recorded every move she made, making it seem like she’d killed you. Caleb collected your bodies after each fight, brought you back, and helped treat your wounds.”

“Caleb?” Jared asked, stunned. “Who’s Caleb?”

“Her uncle. Eli’s brother,” Jarvis replied smoothly. “Demon agreed to work with me because she knew what the Elders intended for this country—to sell it to a neighboring power and subjugate us all. She wants to cleanse this place of corruption, even if it means playing the villain. She wants a future where no one has to suffer as she has.”

The district leaders stared, speechless, wrestling with this new reality.

“Why would you, of all people, help her?” Kevin asked, still suspicious.

Jarvis’s face turned serious, his eyes darkening. “Because I know what this world is capable of. I know the cost of turning a blind eye. And, honestly, I owe her.”

Stanley shook his head in disbelief, whispering, “He sounds just like one of them.”

“Believe what you want,” Jarvis replied, shrugging. “If you need more proof, ask Carl.”

Carl looked down, his voice barely audible. “It’s true,” he admitted. “I helped her. She promised not to harm any of you. In exchange, I provided her with intelligence from the Black Government. I… I thought it was better to aid her than to stand in her way.”

Everyone fell silent, and then Sky finally asked, “What’s her endgame?”

Jarvis met his gaze, his face solemn. “To die at Ice’s hands. That’s what she believes will end it all.”

The room filled with stunned silence, the weight of Jarvis’s words settling over them. Nathan’s voice broke the stillness, full of a conflicted, desperate hope. “Why tell us this now?”

Jarvis shrugged, letting out a small, resigned laugh. “Maybe… maybe it’s just that I feel like my own end is near.” His smile was both sad and proud, knowing he had done his part.

---

Flashback: The Agreement Between Demon and Jarvis

It was the day before Demon began hunting the Masks. She and Jarvis met in a secluded, abandoned warehouse. Sunlight barely trickled through the dust-covered windows, casting long shadows across the cracked floor. Jarvis stood waiting, exuding a calm confidence, though his eyes held a spark of wariness. Demon strode in, her expression unreadable, but a sly smirk played at the edges of her lips.

"I don't like you, just so you know," Demon said coolly, crossing her arms.

Jarvis raised an eyebrow, surprised but intrigued. "Did I ever give you the slightest reason to think I like you?"

A flicker of a smirk broke through Demon's mask. "In high school, you kissed me. Wildly, might I add. I tried to push you off, but you just kept going," she said, her tone overly dramatic. "Frankly, I felt… harassed."

Jarvis's shoulders slumped, unimpressed by her theatrics. He remembered that kiss all too well. "Let’s not rewrite history, Demon. You planned that whole scene."

Demon let out a chuckle. "Maybe. But it’s amusing to remind you."

"Am I here for a confession or something important? I’ve got things to do," Jarvis shot back, unfazed.

Demon took a step closer, her smirk widening. "That depends. Why’d you call me out here? Is it to beg?"

Jarvis hesitated, but then dropped to his knees. "Please… spare Dos. I know you're after the Masks, but leave her out of this."

A glimmer of surprise flashed in Demon's eyes, but it vanished quickly, replaced by a mocking grin. "What’s Dos to you? I’m prettier, and clearly, I'm the one you're kneeling for."

Jarvis clenched his fists. "It's not about that. You want Dos protected, too, don’t you? Let me take that responsibility. I’ll get her out of here if you let me."

"Bold of you to think I want to protect her," Demon replied, stepping forward and placing her boot on his head, forcing him lower. "I’m not a hero."

"Maybe not," Jarvis muttered, his voice strained. "But I’m begging you."

Demon sighed theatrically. "Fine. I won’t kill you all, but I do need to… quiet things down. You're all in my way."

Jarvis’s head jerked up. "Quiet us down? How?"

"The Elders want the Masks to die by my hand, thinking it'll break Maniego. But I’m no pawn in their game," she said with a smirk. "I’ll put you all into a long sleep, make it look like I killed you. It’ll be convincing enough that no one questions it."

Jarvis’s eyes gleamed with excitement. "I like your style. I’ll help with your plan."

Demon’s gaze narrowed. "And why should I trust you? You’re just as likely to stab me in the back."

"Because I want Dos. Help me get her out of this country, and I’ll give you all the information you need," he replied without hesitation.

Demon scoffed. "Dos isn’t some prize I can hand out."

Jarvis held her gaze, unwavering. "But she’s important to you."

Demon froze, her eyes hardening. "Don’t be absurd. I’ve used her as my double, her parents died because of me—"

"But you kept her close. You let her become a Mask because, deep down, you wanted her protected."

"Enough," Demon snapped, a faint blush coloring her cheeks despite herself. "Fine, if it shuts you up, I’ll agree. Just stop this sentimental nonsense. It’s making my skin crawl."

Jarvis grinned, extending his hand. "Glad to see you have a soft spot. I won’t disappoint you."

She rolled her eyes, but took his hand firmly. "Remember, I don’t care about your loyalty. Just don’t get in my way."

Jarvis couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Demon’s plans than she let on. She had chosen each Mask carefully, and he intended to find out why.

Why did Jarvis need Demon's consent to ensure Dos’s safety? Because for Dos, Demon was everything. No matter what Jarvis did, Dos would never leave Demon even it was by her direct order. Her loyalty to Demon ran so deep that even if given freedom, Dos would choose to stay rather than act against Demon's wishes.

Jarvis understood that without Demon’s explicit consent, Dos would feel conflicted, possibly even resentful, if she ever left. He wanted her departure to be something she could embrace fully, without guilt or regret. Demon’s blessing, as twisted as it was, would give Dos the peace of mind she needed to move forward.

As they shook hands, Jarvis spoke up once more, his tone unusually serious. “You know why I’m asking, right? Dos is tied to you in ways that words can’t undo. If I’m to take her out of here, it has to be with your full approval. She’ll need to know you’re okay with it.”

Demon sighed, her expression softening—just a fraction. “I know. That’s why I’m allowing this, even though it annoys me. She has her own mind, but… she won’t go against me. I suppose, in some strange way, I owe her this.”

Jarvis nodded, recognizing the rare moment of honesty in Demon's words. “Good. Then, I’ll take care of her. I’ll make sure she’s safe, far from the chaos you’re about to unleash.”

Demon’s smirk returned, sharp as ever. “Just remember, Jarvis. If you cross me—or if Dos ends up hurt—I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Jarvis grinned, giving her a playful salute. “Understood. But don’t worry about me. I’ve got my own reasons for seeing this through. Dos will be safe. You have my word.”

As he turned to leave, Demon watched him go, her face unreadable. For just a moment, the ruthless mask she wore faltered, revealing the briefest flicker of something that looked like concern. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. She pulled her cloak around her, preparing to move forward with her deadly plans, confident that Dos’s fate, at least, was in capable hands.