"Put out the fire! Hurry! What the hell is going on? Who ignited the fuel?!"
"No, wait—this fire didn't start near the fuel storage at all!"
"Could it be the vampire society? With a threat this big, didn't we already agree to cooperate?"
"Or did they find out we planned to stab them in the back afterward, so they struck first?"
"Enough talk! All of you, grab sand and put the fire out!"
"Mayor, this isn't a normal fire! Have you ever seen flames like this—purple-red?!"
Purple fire rained down from the sky. The moment it struck the conference hall and research facility, it erupted outward.
In an instant, tent camps stretching for miles were swallowed whole, collapsing into a single, roiling sea of flames.
Panic erupted as people rushed to fight the fire. Some threw water, others shoveled sand, and a few even tried to race against the flames to carve out firebreaks…
Every attempt failed.
Those who splashed water were blasted back by scalding steam.
Their faces flushed a deep red as they screamed in agony. A closer look filled onlookers with terror—after only a brief instant of contact with the steam, there was barely a patch of intact skin left on their faces, swollen everywhere with horrifying crimson blisters.
Overwhelmed by pain, some clawed at them instinctively, tearing them open. The result was even more intense agony and streams of foul, oozing pus.
The sight sent chills through the crowd as people hurriedly supported the injured and rushed them toward the medics.
The ones shoveling sand and digging firebreaks fared no better.
The instant a shovel flung sand into the flames, the Devouring Flame reacted as if offended, racing along the grains and surging onto the man in a heartbeat.
No matter how he rolled on the ground or poured water over himself, the Devouring Flame clung to him like a bone-hungry parasite, burning until his very bones crackled and popped.
Fat melted into liquid, releasing a fleeting, almost meaty aroma before turning instantly into black smoke. A scorching, acrid stench filled the air, so intense no one dared approach.
In the end, even as he frantically dug a pit, hoping to smother the flames with sand, all he managed to do was dig himself a coffin.
By the time he realized it, his arms no longer responded. Pain faded from his awareness, replaced by a dull, sinking numbness.
The last thing he saw…
…was the purple-red glow of the fire.
Those digging firebreaks had it even worse. The Devouring Flame surged directly along the blaze they had started themselves. It moved too fast—before a scream could even form, the fire snuffed out all sound. In less than two seconds, all that remained was a white, withered skeleton, reduced to ash in the inferno.
The mayor was stunned into paralysis. Supported by others, he staggered backward again and again, gulping down several lungfuls of warm air before he barely managed to steady himself.
"Quick—organize an evacuation immediately!" he shouted hoarsely. "Firefighting is pointless! Everyone switch to salvaging supplies—save whatever you can! Move!"
A mayor who had held his post for decades lived up to the title. He understood at once that this was no accident.
This was no natural disaster.
It was man-made.
In his heart, he was already convinced it was the vampire society—perhaps Misha of the Pureblood faction, or perhaps Mrs. Meilin of the Symbiote faction.
If that was the case, then the only option was—
…Huh?
The mayor's eyes suddenly widened, disbelief flooding his face.
The bodyguard beside him reacted even faster. Without hesitation, he shoved aside his holster, yanked out his pistol, raised it, and aimed straight into the flickering silhouettes within the flames.
"Whoever you are up ahead, listen carefully!" he barked. "Drop your weapon immediately! Raise your hands, turn your back to us, and walk over here! If you don't comply, we will open fire!"
That shout snapped the mayor back to reality—and jolted the surrounding soldiers as well.
But their expressions were strange. One by one, they rubbed their eyes, again and again, struggling to believe what they were seeing.
These were the soldiers who had evacuated earliest under the Agents' protection. Now, exchanging stunned looks with their comrades, they finally confirmed it through the shock reflected in each other's eyes.
The figure walking slowly out of the inferno…
…was one of the Agents' mainstays.
Phaga of Victoria Housekeeping.
How could this be…
Why would he set this fire?!
The bodyguards didn't hesitate. Even they felt the figure's build was eerily familiar, but through the purple-red Devouring Flame, nothing was clear. They weren't close enough to Phaga to recognize him from a mere silhouette.
So they followed protocol, pistols raised, voices hard.
"We repeat—this is not a joke!" "This is not a joke!" "Drop your weapon immediately! Hands up, turn around, and walk toward us! Or we will open fire!"
Phaga didn't respond. He kept walking, one step at a time.
The bodyguards' hearts began to tremble, their arms shaking despite themselves.
How could they not know? Someone capable of casually creating a scene like this was far beyond anything they could handle.
But if they didn't stop him now, Phaga would reach them.
And then they would die.
The bodyguard's heart pounded wildly, his lips quivering uncontrollably.
The instant Phaga stepped one foot out of the fire, the final thread inside the bodyguard snapped.
His chest drew in, then thrust forward as he screamed with every last ounce of strength, veins bulging across his face, eyes protruding like a startled fish.
"Fire!"
Bang!
Bang!
Bang—
Muzzle flashes erupted. More than a dozen guns roared at once, bullets pouring out like a torrential downpour. Purple streaks shrieked through the air—the wail of Ether matter itself.
The soldiers watching nearby clenched their fists unconsciously, hearts in their throats as they silently prayed for Phaga.
They knew he was strong—but they had no real concept of just how strong.
In their minds, even a notorious Dullahan standing there with shield raised would be shredded—shield and Ether body alike—riddled with holes and torn apart.
Clang!
Phaga lifted his blade. His index finger tapped lightly against the hilt, releasing a clear, bell-like chime.
In an instant, the Devouring Flame responded as if in resonance, surging forward eagerly. The Ether bullets vanished the moment they touched it, burned into nothing but wisps of purple smoke—as though they had never existed at all.
"Mr. Mayor," Phaga said calmly, "I've heard much about you."
Wrapped in Devouring Flame, he stepped forward, long blade angled at his side. With a casual flick of his wrist, the mirror-like edge reflected the mayor's aged, ashen face.
As Phaga advanced, the bodyguards finally understood who stood before them.
This was the man who had resolved the [Doppelgänger Hollow] single-handedly.
How had they even dared to fire at him?
"I still vaguely remember how attentive you were to me when the [Doppelgänger Hollow] spiraled out of control," Phaga continued. "Unfortunately, I was rather busy back then. Debts have to be settled one by one."
"No one expected things to pile up like this. I took care of Lucius in the Outer Ring long ago… yet it took until today to finally present you with a proper red envelope, Mr. Mayor."
As he spoke, Phaga raised his blade. Flames surged along its length. What had been a blade just over three feet long now looked more than three zhang in reach.
Purple fire illuminated the indifference on his face, his eyes burning with a fury forged from old grudges and fresh blood.
At that height, it looked as though the blade would split the mayor's skull open the moment it fell.
Phaga's eyes flickered. From within the searing Devouring Flame came a low, hollow voice.
"Of course, a mayor as busy as you might not know who Lucius was."
"That's fine. You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted down below."
"Die."
The mayor's pupils shrank violently. Terror seized his throat as he let out a shrill scream.
"Sacrifice—save me!"
Buzz—
Just before the flaming blade descended, a pair of massive, inhuman hands burst up from the ground. They closed together, shielding the mayor firmly within their grasp.
Phaga glanced over, his expression turning icy.
"Sacrifice?" he scoffed.
"Heh. One of those batches developed by TOPS, I presume. I heard Bern was involved in that research too. Looks like the vampire society managed to get their hands on the tech this time."
"So tell me—after TOPS was wiped out, how much of their 'legacy' ended up in the hands of the city's upper echelon?" "And just how much of it did you put to use on the battlefield?"