The meteoroid-like fireball tore through the heavens, crashing into the forest beyond the mansion where Micafer stood. The impact shook the very earth—waves of dust spiraled outward, shrouding the night. Even the stars seemed to halt, acknowledging the arrival of something… unearthly.
Micafer wasn't the only one who noticed.
Three men sprinted toward the impact zone, their destination lying beyond him. Their paths intersected with his.
He turned at the sound of synchronized footsteps—and froze.
Three identical men approached. Same height. Same build. Same face. Each wore a crisp white uniform, adorned with two golden stars on their shoulders. Only their nameplates etched in gold set them apart:
Bishop Joel. Bishop Jake. Bishop Jude.
Jake was the first to speak, voice sharp and commanding.
"Go back inside, young man. The air might feel fresh now, but it won't last. Things are about to change."
He clearly mistook Micafer for a resident of the mansion.
"We don't have time for this," Jude growled. "Others need saving."
Joel, the calmest of the three, slowed as he passed. His gaze lingered on Micafer—piercing, cautious. But he said nothing.
Then, like shadows catching wind, the bishops vanished into the trees.
Micafer watched them go. A strange bitterness curled within him, laced with curiosity.
"So those three were once blessings—gifts rejected by someone who chose to abort them. What a waste," he muttered with a crooked grin.
His eyes gleamed.
"They look… interesting."
Without another word, Micafer vanished into the canopy—melding with the shadows, teleporting silently from branch to branch. A ghost among trees.
The bishops arrived at a devastated campsite.
Tents shredded. Craters punched into the soil. At the center—a massive black egg lay shattered. Whatever had been inside… was gone.
"Damn it," Jude hissed. "We're too late."
"There were people here," Jake murmured, scanning the wreckage. "They can't have gone far."
"Then let's split—" Jude started.
Joel raised a hand.
"There's no need."
From behind boulders, trees, and broken canvas, they emerged.
Dozens of corpses. Once human. Now… desecrated.
Their skulls had been hollowed. Brains replaced. Empty sockets glowed with cursed flame—white, red, and black. Fire that didn't burn with heat… but with suffering.
They closed in, dozens of them, speaking in unison:
"This planet is ours."
The bishops stood back-to-back, forming a triangle. Divine energy shimmered faintly around them.
Joel narrowed his eyes.
"Their alien hosts have amplified their core presence. They're nearly twice as strong. But none should stand before our Queen."
"You want us to use the trump card on these freaks?" Jake asked.
Unseen above them, Micafer crouched among the branches.
"I wouldn't rank them lowly," he whispered to himself.
"Ready or not," Jude said grimly.
The bishops linked hands. Light surged from their cores, fusing into one blinding force. Their divine presence multiplied—rising from 2,000 to a combined 4,000.
The pressure was suffocating. Micafer had to teleport away just before the shadows betrayed him.
The husks lunged.
The bishops responded:
"Divine Aspect: Cruel Sun!"
A miniature sun ignited above them—radiating eternal daylight. The desecrated humans disintegrated like shadows torn apart by dawn.
But from within that brilliance… something remained.
A silhouette. Unmoving. Unburnt.
Darkness writhed around him—resisting the sun.
Joel's eyes narrowed.
"Isn't that… Krogor?"
"What the hell is he doing here?" Jake spat.
"Since when could he withstand a Divine Aspect?" Jude asked, shaken.
Joel activated his Divine Aspect—Byakugan. His irises flared with radiant light as he analyzed the figure.
"He's not using his own power. He's protected… by an alien. One he's surrendered his soul to."
"Why would someone like him do that?" Jake whispered.
Joel's voice dropped.
"Because dark-cored humans are never satisfied. They always want more."
"Even if it kills them…" Jake muttered.
Across the clearing, Krogor let out a fractured laugh.
"Pray you last, my friends! And make sure it's a prayer for a happy death!"
From his left arm, a spider-like alien slithered. Its six front-facing eyes glowed with cursed light. Segmented limbs burned with dark flame. From its fishlike mouth oozed a violent, slimy fluid. Its form was unstable—fluid, but intact—like sin given shape.
It slithered toward Krogor's ear with intent.
The bishops moved—too slow.
Squelch.
The parasite disappeared into his skull.
Krogor convulsed.
Then stilled.
His core doubled in strength. The atmosphere turned heavy, dense with unholy pressure.
He had changed.
Darkness erupted from him in a volcanic wave, colliding against the sun overhead.
Joel muttered:
"We're equals now."
The bishops launched—Jude to the right, Jake to the left, Joel head-on.
Joel struck first—Krogor met his blow with obsidian-diamond skin. Jake and Jude followed, but the mutated man barely flinched.
Four arms exploded from Krogor's sides like loaded weapons.
The bishops leapt back.
From the canopy, Micafer reappeared.
"The tension's thick," he murmured. "They're evenly matched… but the bishops look strained."
Then Krogor spoke—or rather, the alien within him did.
"We are Vorgulons. And domination is our purpose."
Krogor clutched his head, twitching, spiraling into madness.
A whisper escaped him:
"Divine Aspect."
Silence. Then—
"Did he just say Divine Aspect?" Jake gasped.
Micafer scoffed.
"Even he has one? Tch. Is everyone surpassing me?"
Above them, a black shell coalesced—a cocoon wrapped in infernal darkness. The ground shook under its cursed weight.
"Cocoon of Infernal Darkness," Joel whispered.
They recognized it. Krogor's Divine Aspect—reborn, corrupted, elevated.
The bishops fired a beam of divine fire.
Krogor countered with a lance of cursed energy.
They collided midair.
"They're canceling each other out… even before contact," Micafer realized.
Then he saw it—his opportunity.
"This is it," he muttered, a crooked smile forming. "Time to turn an ineffective explosion… into a weapon."
No shadows to use. Only will.
He sprinted forward.
"If this kills me… at least I'll die learning who I really am."
He hurled himself into the center of the collision—between light and darkness.
"He's trying to die!" Jude shouted.
But silence followed.
Then—a pulse.
Micafer stood, unscathed.
Glowing.
Terrible.
Transformed.
Light and darkness churned inside him. His hair lengthened. Eyes blazed. The earth cracked beneath his aura.
He had become something new.
An Archshadow.
Temporarily—but terrifyingly.
The air trembled.
Micafer's gaze locked onto Krogor.
Only one emotion burned in his expression: superiority.
He raised one hand.
Energy burst from him—neither light nor dark. Balanced. Pure. Elemental neutrality incarnate.
BOOM.
The blast struck Krogor before he could react.
He screamed. Then—was no more.
Only silence remained.
Micafer looked skyward. Light and darkness flickered from his eyes and mouth.
Then—he collapsed.
His final thought echoed in the stillness:
"This feeling… I'll make it a normality."
The ground quaked one last time as it cradled his unconscious body.
The bishops stared, speechless.
One thought burned in them all:
Something new has been born—something terrifying.