A soundless dark-purple portal opened within the main hall of the Palace of Slaughter. Hannya stepped calmly into the chamber. His gray-white skin, silver fangs, black horns, and the golden lines tracing from his wrists to his chest shimmered under the flickering flames of the palace. He wore only simple ivory sleeves and dark-blue pants—clothes fit for the horrors of Floor Zero. His demonic face and smile seemed to swallow the light around him.

  He gently caressed the golden earring on his left ear.

  “Father… Long time since I’ve even acknowledged your memory. Don’t worry—I still keep your skull on the right side of my throne. Mom’s is on the left. Ahahaha!” He smirked, trailing his palm along the bone-made floor as he moved through the palace rooms. The eyes carved into the walls followed his every step.

  “As fresh as I remember,” he murmured, entering a room marked butchery. A wooden table held rusted silver torture tools made for demons. Hannya took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  “Ahhh… The smell of blood, broken limbs, and bone. Home sweet home…”

  His hand brushed a small portrait from his childhood hanging above the table. Dust clung to his thumb as he touched it, and a soft smile touched his lips.

  “Been a very, very long time since we met, Lionye… How I’ve missed you and your dear friend Mikolash…”

  His smile faded. His teeth gritted, his hand tightening around the portrait until small cracks webbed across the iron frame.

  He slammed the portrait to the ground and shattered it under his heel.

  “Lionye! I’m better than you! I am the Sorcerer of Slaughter! Fifth General of the Abyss! I’m not someone who wants your pity!”

  His breathing grew ragged with rage, shoulders rising and falling as he crouched and tore the picture inside to pieces. Time seemed to freeze for several seconds before his anger subsided. The torn image of his own smiling face now lay scattered across the bones. He touched his cheek, eyes widening in shock as blood-tinged tears fell.

  “No...! No, no, no! What have I done?!” He gathered the torn pieces, but they slipped through his fingers.

  “My precious memory… torn apart by my own hands…” He slammed both fists against the floor, then slowly lifted his head, the demonic grin returning.

  His gaze shifted toward the exit gates of the palace, just visible through the butchery door.

  “Don’t get distracted, Hannya… You have a mission… and the mission is far more interesting than your past…”

  He pushed himself up, walking toward the exit with slightly unsteady steps, a wide smirk playing on his lips, his golden pupils burning like twin flames.

  “Just you wait, Lionye… I’ll be back with some surprises from Floor Zero…”

  ---

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  Floor Zero hadn’t changed since Blood Dragon’s awakening. The Tower of Blood loomed in the distance, its peak gleaming with molten lava flowing upward toward the ceiling. The praying hands at its summit now stood empty of blood.

  The old gods still dreamed in their slumber. One slight movement sent tremors through the ground.

  Hannya pushed the rusted gates open, their creak lost in the vast silence of Floor Zero.

  He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, palms open, grinning widely.

  “Behold my entrance!” He started down the stairs. “So… which one of you idiots should I wake first?”

  An old god shifted its fingers, tearing the ground nearby.

  “Whoa, whoa! Easy there! Ahahaha!” Hannya clumsily caught his balance as the earth shook.

  “You—you’re going down. I don’t care how strong you are. You made me lose my balance… so you shall die.”

  His shadow swelled behind him, four wings spreading from its back, a lingering purple aura burning around it.

  “Should I use my Third Eye? No, no… this one doesn’t deserve it. Unless I wake more of them… Mhehehehe…” His grin stretched ear to ear.

  “Get up, you fat ass… Mercury Magic: Spear of Agony!” He threw a hand upward. The ground split as a dark-silver spear pierced the old god’s chest.

  A thousand eyes flew open across its face. Three mouths screamed in agony. Yellow blood rained down from the skyscraper-sized spear. The god gripped the shaft and tore it free, its orange skin burning with fury.

  “What? I didn’t do much. Just made a hole in your majestic chest,” Hannya smirked.

  “You… shall pay!” the creature roared, its voice echoing across Floor Zero. It clenched a fist and swung down toward Hannya.

  *Well… I wasn’t planning on blocking a multimillion-weight hand with my two-meter body…*

  He grinned.

  “I think I’m… sorry for your hand.”

  Hannya raised his palm. “Cult of Hiatus: Impenetrable Void.”

  The old god’s eyes widened impossibly further as its strike halted against nothing—a thin empty space between Hannya’s palm and its fist.

  “Hey… what’s the matter? Can’t break through what doesn’t exist…?” he whispered, voice cold as ice, taking two steps forward.

  “Now… Cult of Slaughter: Dismantle of Flesh.”

  The space vanished. His palm touched the old god’s fist.

  For two seconds, there was only silence.

  “Im… possible…”

  Blood erupted from its hand up to shoulder, slicing it into hundreds of circular pieces that fell with soft, heavy thuds.

  Hannya let out a menacing laugh as the old god stumbled back in fear.

  “What now!? You can create realms in your dreams… but you can’t fight the primordial god of slaughter!? Hahahaha! How pathetic!” Hannya shouted, advancing step by step.

  “I’m only beginning my work, you old gods… Serve me… or die trying…” he whispered.

  Countless roars erupted from multiple gods nearby, waking up in pure, agonizing rage. All gazing toward Hannya.

  "The mere ant shall pay for disturbing us!" an old god with large horns all around its body with two glowing violet eyes on its chest said. Walking toward him. Each step an earth shaking calamity.

  "Now you all are worth the third eye..." Hannya's grin widened. His shadow, the lingering shape of his aura, erupted in power. Two faint-purple eyes appearing within it.

  "Third eye! Open! Slaughter House!"

  His forehead tore apart, a white porcelain colored eye crawled out of it. Two dark-green pupils falling from behind the eye, standing in a line on the porcelain eye. The shadow itself growing a third eye on forehead. Small black horns growing from all around his arms, nails growing longer. Fangs sharper in his grin.

  "My slaughter... Begins now!"