Kang Woo's eyes shifted toward Makima, his voice low but deliberate.
"I'll leave the bedtime story telling to you. Catch up with me once I start creating the Philosopher's Stone."
Makima's eyes widened, surprise flickering across her face. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a worried whisper.
"Kang Woo… creating a new variant of Compound V—that's something I might be able to help with. I may not know much about alchemy or science, but… does the Philosopher's Stone knowledge come from that tablet? From the Black King himself? If so… it might put you in a tight spot when the aftermath comes."
The Black King's grin curled as he leaned forward, voice dripping with mockery.
"I can hear that, you big log. As much as I hate my host—and you—this one's essential to me. Besides, didn't you also see it on that invisible screen? I'm forced to be loyal to the great, oh-so-mighty Kang Woo. Get it?"
He spread his arms slightly, voice sharpening into a hiss. "I'm bound like I've been chained. Capice?"
Makima arched a brow, her tone sliding into dry sarcasm. "Capice? You speak Spanish now?"
Kang Woo's hand shot out, yanking the Black King by his clothes, pulling him forward with a sharp tug. His voice was cold, commanding.
"Come on. Let's get to work. And Mikhail—help Makima explain things if she lacks the knowledge. I didn't explain everything yesterday."
The Black King only clicked his tongue. "Tch."
The sci-fi lab door slid open with a hiss, Kang Woo stepping inside. It sealed shut behind him, cutting off the sight of his shadow and machinery within.
Out in the hallway, Division 4's eyes turned toward Makima.
She straightened her jacket and spoke evenly, as if the chaos just now had been routine.
"Before we continue—does anyone want their salary paid? Kang Woo will be staying in there for at least a day or more to finish his assignment."
Arai raised his hand halfway, voice shaky.
"Uh… Kishibe-sensei, can I get paid now? I don't think I can stand this insanity much longer. I'd rather leave the hotel."
Power's laugh broke out sharp, her finger jabbing at him.
"That means you're weak, human!"
Kishibe let out a dry snort, tilting his head toward Arai.
"Salary's in my desk. But I've gotta be there myself—the receptionist only takes orders directly from me. Guess I might stick around instead, see what our local alien does next."
His gaze slid through the transparent glass, narrowing on Kang Woo's silhouette moving inside the sci-fi lab.
"So… what's this about a Philosopher's Stone that Kang Woo needs?"
Mikhail's eyes flickered, irritation boiling—his voice sharp, almost ready to snap back at the insult of Kishibe equating Kang Woo to some cheap stone. But before he could speak, Makima was already reaching into her wallet. She flipped it open, her tone dry and practical.
"Does two hundred thousand yen sound enough for now?"
Kishibe's smirk twitched, his cigarette bobbing in the corner of his mouth.
"Not anymore. Salaries went up—since half the Public Safety staff are stuck in mental hospitals, hazard pay's through the roof."
Mikhail lifted his hand, Zaiphon already sparking as golden light swirled, shaping into bars and coins—enough wealth to flood the floor.
But Makima's voice cut him down, sharp and commanding.
"Don't throw gold around like it's scrap iron. A flood of it would destroy the economy."
She paused, then an idea flickered across her face.
"Mikhail—just conjure one gold ring. Understand? Enough to equalize Arai's salary, since I don't have much in my wallet right now."
Mikhail's eyes narrowed, but he obeyed. With a flick of his hand, Zaiphon runes shimmered in the air, shaping into a small golden ring. He tossed it toward Arai, then conjured a neat set of glowing letters that unraveled into paper bills, handing the money over through the runes.
"It's too small to make a spectacle," Mikhail muttered, clearly unimpressed.
Aki exhaled smoke, his voice level but firm.
"We still live in this country. I'd prefer our currency stay valuable."
Himeno leaned against the wall with a lazy grin. "Yeah, Aki's right, but…" She leaned closer to Mikhail, dropping her tone into a conspiratorial whisper.
"…can you teach me how to create gold too? So I can stay drunk and rich, happily ever after?"
All of a sudden, Arai—already pocketing his salary and the small gold ring—spoke quickly, his voice shaky but determined.
"I'm heading out first. I might stay away from this hotel in the future. See you back at HQ."
Without waiting, he bolted toward the lower stairs, his footsteps echoing until they faded.
Denji leaned back in his chair, snickering.
"One less trouble brat gone. Isn't that right, Power?"
Power puffed out her chest, grinning wide.
"That's right! The idea came from me in the first place!"
Himeno's smirk lingered, but her tone shifted, sharper.
"But one problem still remains. Kang Woo… he gives off that old villain vibe. Like from RPGs or movies—the type who sits back, pulling strings."
Aki's brow furrowed, his tone low and certain.
"We're all free to leave . But if we do… we'll be left out of whatever he's doing."
Kishibe's gaze slid toward Makima, his cigarette glowing faintly as he spoke. His voice was dry, almost amused.
"Funny thing just came to mind. You, Makima—you always needed to keep everyone in line by spying on us when you were commander. But Kang Woo? Doesn't matter what position he's in. In the public eye, he's still a nobody. And yet… everything that's happened since he showed up, everything right now—it all revolves around him. Walk away, and it feels like you're just… left out."
Makima's eyes softened for just a moment, then sharpened with conviction. Her voice was steady, cutting back with absolute certainty.
"That's why Kang Woo is my husband. The only person I love. The one who deserves my undying loyalty."
The words sent a ripple through Division 4. They had all suspected the bond between the two, but hearing Makima—the Control Devil herself—say it outright shook them.
Denji slammed his fist on the table, pouting.
"That's unfair! Why does Kang Woo get the woman?!"
Aki exhaled smoke, his tone measured, calm but edged with steel.
"Makima-san, if you like Kang Woo, I accept it. But as your husband… that's the last thing people—and maybe even you—should want. He isn't someone I can ever see as family. To me, he's like a natural disaster—dangerous, uncontrollable. But… he has his uses."
Makima's smile curved faintly, her tone a mix of mockery and understanding.
"How rude, Aki. But I understand. I'll tell you the reason—after this hotel incident is fully resolved. In the meantime, you still have questions. About what happened yesterday… and about what Kang Woo is doing that left half of Tokyo, maybe all of Japan, with so many citizens ending up in mental hospitals."
After fifteen minutes, the so-called stooges of Division 4 sat in uneasy silence, listening to Makima explain what Kang Woo had been doing inside his lab. Their faces were a mix of confusion and disbelief—somewhere between awe and horror. Kishibe, as usual, remained calm, though his eyes betrayed a rare flicker of unease. His logic ran deep, and the conclusion was simple yet chilling: if everything Makima said was true, Kang Woo wasn't just a being he can handle
Through the glass, Kishibe's gaze fell on him—Kang Woo, surrounded by alien machines and swirling reishi, with the Black King working beside him, crafting strange alchemical arrays. Kishibe thought quietly to himself. It'd be near impossible to defeat someone like that. He brawled gods… and now. A parasitic god—inside him. Unbelievable.
Himeno's eyes gleamed with energy, her voice rising with excitement that clashed against the dread in the air.
"So you're telling us, Makima-san, you actually saw it? Kang Woo fighting that thing—the Crimson King? The one shrouded in robes, tall as a mountain? And he… defeated it?"
Aki frowned, glancing at her. "Wait, Himeno-senpai, hold on." He turned to Makima. "So what about the one beside Kang Woo right now? The one who looks like his twin—same face, but with gray irises and black sclera. You called him the Black King. He's dangerous, isn't he?"
The scratching of tools and energy hums stopped. The Black King turned his head toward them, his gray eyes locking on the group with a slow, deliberate stare.
Denji leaned in toward Aki, whispering under his breath.
"I think Kang Woo's brother just heard us."
Power's eyes darted toward Mikhail, still standing in his humanoid Teito Klein form. She jabbed a finger at him, trying to hide the tremor in her voice behind false bravado.
"You! You can help us, right? From Kang Woo's brother?"
Mikhail let out a short, sarcastic laugh, the kind that carried both amusement and pity.
"Help you? The Black King eats gods for lunch. He's so powerful that every divine being once worked together just to seal him. Are you fucking nuts? Fighting him would be like a kid going one-on-one with an MMA champion. In easier terms…" he smirked faintly, "I'm his lunch."
The room fell silent.
Then came the sharp hiss of hydraulics—shhhhkt. The glass door slid open.
Kang Woo and the Black King stepped out side by side. The hum of power that followed them was suffocating. The air seemed to bend, every breath heavier than the last.
Power instinctively ducked behind Denji, trembling, her confidence gone in an instant.
Aki and Himeno stayed still—faces blank, bodies stiff—but deep inside, both knew the same truth: if it came down to it, there was nothing they could do against either of them.
The Black King's gaze swept the room, finally landing on Makima with open disdain. His stare was like venom.
Makima met it without flinching. Her own glare sharpened, deadly, ready to strike the instant he made a move. Yet she knew the truth—the strength gap between them was colossal.
Kang Woo broke the tension with a flick of his wrist, summoning a black briefcase from thin air. The latches snapped open, revealing rows of glowing green vials—Vought's product, Compound looked to Kishibe, his tone even, carrying quiet finality.
"As promised, Kishibe. I've already settled part of my debt."
Kishibe gave a small nod, raising his sake flask in a gesture that was half thanks, half habit. His eyes, however, weren't on the briefcase. They were fixed on Makima and the Black King—two beings glaring at each other with enough quiet hatred to tear the room apart if either so much as blinked wrong.
Aki noticed it too. Makima's glare wasn't just cold—it was murderous. The same expression she wore before killing devils, now directed entirely at the Black King.
Kishibe took a long sip, exhaling smoke through his nose, and smirked faintly.
"Might wanna explain this one," he said dryly. "Why does it look like the evil god and the Control Devil are destined enemies?"
Makima didn't hesitate. Her eyes stayed locked on the Black King, her voice flat and cutting.
"I fucking hate him. He made Kang Woo who he is today—and what he's about to become."
The Black King didn't flinch. He only exhaled slowly, his tone calm but laced with irritation.
"I made a very wrong move. Chose the wrong vessel."
The atmosphere was tense enough to split air—until the sound of the front door sliding open broke it. Everyone turned.
Kobeni stepped in, clutching a steaming cup of ramen with both hands. Her expression was innocent, even cheerful. Without hesitation, she walked straight past Kang Woo—and offered the cup to the Black King instead.
"You have to eat," she said earnestly, trying to sound casual. "Since you look the same, you must like ramen too, right? Kang Woo really loves it, so I figured… maybe you do too."
Kang Woo's gaze flicked to her, silent. Good. At least Kobeni's unintentionally diffusing the tension, he thought. Though Makima's still ten millennia too young to think about picking a fight with someone on the level of Zeus . The Black King's no different from an Outer God. Even now, this is just his ego clinging to me.