Empty City was furious. Beyond furious.

Michel’s actions had only dredged up phantom memories and personal pain. But this bastard before him? He’d hurt Night Zero. Drawn here by the scent of a powerful enemy, Empty City had witnessed everything.

The hand gripping the black whip hadn’t vanished. Not even a scratch marked it.

“What… how is this possible?!”

That whip—forged from dark particles—was Osman’s signature weapon. Anything it touched dissolved into nothingness, finer than dust. The table, chairs, everything it had struck moments ago proved that. Yet… a human had caught it bare-handed.

Osman’s muttering didn’t break Empty City’s focus.

His sharp eyes locked onto Osman like a predator’s. Frozen in place, Osman couldn’t even yank back his whip. Cold sweat trickled down his dark temple. His whole body trembled—not with battle lust, but with inexplicable terror.

*What is this feeling? What’s happening?!*

*How can a human like this exist?!*

Six years ago, the strongest Apostle to invade Earth had been Osman’s right hand—a warrior whose strength earned his full respect. Yet that Apostle had fallen. If not for the others holding him back, Osman would’ve razed Earth himself to avenge him. But… he never imagined *this* man would be so powerful.

Empty City didn’t care what raced through Osman’s mind. The sweat hidden by dark skin, the fear—none of it mattered. He’d seen stunned stares before: five years ago, when he appeared like a god across the globe. Adoration, envy, jealousy, terror… they’d all blurred into beautiful scenery in his memory. He’d long stopped caring.

“Almost done… wait just a moment, Night Zero.”

“Ah… okay.”

Night Zero smiled faintly. Her abdomen ached, but a warm current flowed through her chest.

*As long as he’s here, everything will be fine.*

And it was true. Wherever Empty City stood, no one—Apostle or villain—could threaten Night Zero’s life. Anyone who dared lay a hand on her would be turned into paste by Empty City.

“You… who *are* you?!”

The voice was low, trembling—trying to mask fear.

Empty City’s grin widened. “Empty City. Night Zero’s boyfriend by day, teacher by night.”

“Hey, wait—”

“…”

Both Night Zero and Osman froze.

*Boyfriend?* Osman’s tension eased slightly—but clarity struck him. This man was the one he’d hunted for vengeance.

“The S—!”

Before the word left his lips—

Empty City moved. No wasted breath.

Flames erupted from nowhere, devouring the black whip.

“Useless! Fire can’t harm Black Wings!”

“Oh, *this* junk’s called ‘Black Wings’? Do all Apostles have otaku-style names?”

“What?!”

Osman’s shock wasn’t about the insult. The whip in his hand was *burning*—crumbling into black ash! This was no ordinary weapon. Forged from the Apostle Realm’s purest dark particles by its strongest master… reduced to cinders by human flames?

*No. Not ordinary flames.*

“You’re not completely brainless,” Empty City remarked, catching Osman’s dawning realization. His narrowed eyes radiated killing intent.

In the blink of an eye, he stood before Osman’s shadow-wreathed form.

“Vanish.”

His speed was stellar—untraceable even for the thirteenth-ranked Apostle.

A beast’s glare. An aura of death. They crashed over Osman’s dark silhouette.

Then—

Blinding white light erupted.

A spear of pure light pierced Osman’s heart.

*Why does someone like him exist…? Why in the human world…?!*

Disbelief and humiliation clung to him as he collapsed. Eyes wide open in death.