Himeno watched her go, clicking her tongue. "Tch. Shitty Kang Woo. He's like that villain from the movies—and he's really good at it." She turned her head toward Aki, smirking faintly. "So, what now, my kouhai? I'm waiting for your decision."
Mikhail glanced around the group, his tone flat but edged with a faint trace of dry amusement. "My task here is finished. I suppose I'll have to revise my opinion of you all… you've lived this long, after all."
Himeno frowned, bristling. "Huh? What the hell's that supposed to mean, eyeball—"
Before she could finish, Mikhail's humanoid form broke apart, dissolving into a swirl of smoke. The Eye of Mikhail shot through the air like a streak of light, instantly returning to Kang Woo—its crimson glow pulsing faintly in the back of his left palm, visible through the lab's glass wall.
Himeno blinked, half-annoyed, half-startled. "Don't just vanish whenever you feel like it, eyeball!"
Aki turned his gaze toward Kishibe, exhaling smoke. His voice was low, deliberate. "Kishibe-sensei… what do you think of Kang Woo?"
The rest of Division 4 fell silent, all eyes turning toward Kishibe—waiting for his answer.
Kishibe shrugged, measured. "My call is to go with the flow. Better we stay here a few days and see what this alien Kang Woo brings."
Power barked a laugh, glaring. " human—this maniac's going to feast on our lives."
Kishibe gave a thin smile. "Like that eyeball said, Kang Woo has priority targets. We're not on the menu. Still I have no counter on hand for a man like him the way I do for Makima."
Himeno, who usually treated Kishibe's jabs as jokes, caught the seriousness in his tone and prodded, "Sensei, you have a counter for Makima?"
Kishibe nodded dryly. "Before Makima was strengthened by Kang Woo, I had an anti-Makima team ready. It would've worked then."
Denji bounced in his seat, fists clenched. "Then use it on Kang Woo! He looks arrogant enough—let some bullets hit him!"
Kishibe fell silent, brows tightening as he regarded them all. His expression said what his words didn't.
Aki's face shifted as realization dawned. "Oh—so that plan, the one where you summon a Hell Devil to trap enemies in Hell—that's what you meant. , right?"
Kishibe gave a slow, resigned nod. "Right. You remember well, Aki. You were there. Kang Woo managed to bend that Hell Devil into subservience. We're not entirely helpless; we just need to pick our moments."
Himeno snorted. "Umm… sensei, sorry to be blunt, but we really are helpless. If that Hell Devil answers Kang Woo's orders and he's the one who commanded it to protect us, how loyal is it going to be—really—to anyone else?"
Kishibe's eyes narrowed. "Don't be a defeatist, you drunkard. I'm looking for a sliver of hope here ."
Inside the lab, Kang Woo sat at the table, fingers tapping a steady, impatient rhythm. He didn't look up; he was waiting for the right moment, calculating in silence.
Makima followed a few steps behind him, her gaze cutting straight to the Black King. "The unlimited magic trapped in that stone—and that Emerald Tablet of yours—why aren't you doing it now? You usually rush things," she said coolly, her voice low with warning.
The Black King smirked, amusement and contempt intertwined. "If you think transferring souls from the afterlife into this world can be done with a snap of the fingers, you're deluding yourself. for now, keeping a low profile takes priority—for both me and my host."
The glass door hissed open again. Division 4 entered—half curious, half nervous.
Himeno whistled low. "Wow… this lab looks straight out of a zombie movie I used to watch."
Makima glanced over her shoulder, voice calm, teasing. "Umbrella Corporation's labs are still several steps behind this one."
Fifteen quiet minutes passed. Kang Woo sat motionless at the center console, fingers tapping against the metal table—steady, precise, endless.
Denji groaned, unable to take it anymore. "Oyy, isn't this supposed to be your evil show or something? Why the silent treatment, man?"
Kobeni, fidgeting but determined, stepped forward. She held out a steaming plate of roast chicken she'd cooked herself. "U-um… maybe you should eat first? Before you do… whatever it is you're about to do?"
Kang Woo took the plate without a word, took a single bite, then set it aside. "Thanks, Kobeni," he said evenly. "But the time for waiting is over."
The Black King's grin widened, sharp and cruel. "Finally. I was starting to get bored. Guess it's time to tear open this world's veil again. Collateral damage will happen, but—"
Kang Woo cut him off, his tone calm but absolute. "I already finished the soul transfer."
The Black King froze for a moment, disbelief flickering into amusement. His gaze swept across the lab. "You what? I don't see any souls here—no urns, vessels, nothing. You expect me to believe—"
Kang Woo moved before the words finished. He drove his fist into the reinforced wall with a thunderous crack. The metal split open, frost and dark mist spilling out. From the fracture, he pulled free a jagged shard of steel—the unmistakable fragment of Frostmourne, its blade edge still emanating cold, runic light.
"They're right here," he said quietly, frost gathering along his hand. "Took a little time, but they're all accounted for."
Kang Woo reached into the compartment beside him, retrieving another piece—a hilt etched with blue light pulsing through its core. He set it beside the blade fragment, his movements precise, unhurried. Each motion carried the confidence of a man who never made mistakes when building weapons—whether swords, guns, or something far more dangerous.
Piece by piece, Frostmourne began to take shape once more, its aura seeping into the lab like creeping winter.
"If I suddenly brought them all out at once," Kang Woo murmured, tightening a coupling along the hilt, "that would've drawn too much attention. The heat would've been unbearable." He paused, a faint grin cutting through his calm expression. "Besides… I just put Dis, the Crimson King, six feet under his grave."
As Kang Woo fixed the skull-shaped guard into place, the metal sang under his touch, a cold echo filling the lab. The ram-skull pommel slid into alignment next, locking with a sharp metallic click. Frost gathered at his fingertips, whispering faintly like wind over a grave.
He spoke—with a weight that pressed through the room, half to himself, half to whatever gods might still be listening.
"My life before this…" he said slowly, fitting the final runic pin into the hilt, "was spent choking under divine pressure. My homeland that day burned beneath the eyes of gods. I was a man when they turned my home to ash—when the first Greek God of War whispered that I was his champion."
The steel hummed, resonating with every word.
"I fed on war. I killed until I forgot my own name. My wife prayed for peace…" he let out a quiet breath, "…and I gave her ruin. My hands were red when I found her. And the child. The air was still. The ashes warm."
tightened his grip on the blade, the frost bleeding through the cracks of his gauntlet.
"You learn resourcefulness in grief," he murmured. "You learn to live on rage when there's nothing else left to keep you alive. The Titans came—spoke of vengeance. And I listened."
He lifted the sword, runes burning faint blue as his shadow stretched across the lab.
"I tore down Olympus. Stone by stone. God by god. But when I stood over my father—the King of Olympus—and his blood cooled on my hands, I realized I'd starved myself of everything else."
A low, hollow laugh escaped him. "I killed the world just to fill the hollow my family left behind… and I'm still empty."
Division 4 fell silent. No one dared to speak. Yet one line from his monologue lingered like a knife in the air—kang woo wife prayed for peace… and he gave her ruin. his hands were red when kang woo found her. And the child. The air was still. The ashes warm.
Denji, ever the fool trying to break tension, scratched his head. " Olympus?, another devil you fought ? Probably not even as strong as that bat devil I killed."
Kobeni didn't speak—her eyes softened instead, her empathy slipping through despite her fear. Kang Woo's story wasn't just distant mythology to her. It sounded like a man who'd already walked through hell long before meeting her.
The Black King's low chuckle broke the silence, dripping with sarcasm. "Funny story," he said, leaning against the wall. "Because last I checked, Zeus and Ares are still very much alive."
Kang Woo didn't even look up. "The one on the Obelisk can't leave that damned tower," he replied flatly. "And I'm sure that version of Zeus doesn't have the Blade of Olympus."
He finished the last fit with a soft, satisfied hum. The Frostmourne was whole—skull-shaped guard, ram-skull pommel, edge etched in runes that drank the light. Souls swirled along the blade like motes of frozen starlight, wailing and whispering as they rode the metal. The chill that crawled off it made the hairs on everyone's arms lift. Kang Woo raised the sword and swept its point slowly toward the Black King's face.
Kishibe went rigid, hand hovering near his dagger. Two prehistoric predators facing off in a cramped Tokyo lab—primal devils in human skins—and yet Kang Woo's gesture was deliberate . He didn't want anyone caught in the crossfire; that much was clear.
Aki tried to cut the tension with a weak grin. "Himeno-senpai—can you joke again? Do your thing. Lighten the mood."
Himeno snorted, folding her arms. "Aki, you asking me for jokes now? That's adorable. But I doubt my charm will do anything against these two monsters in human skin." Her mouth twitched into a half-smirk; she was trying to stoke courage, notize it.
Makima's hand drifted to the shadow-forged leash at her hip. Darkness coiled obediently beneath her palm, ready to manifest into the Red Leash Gunblade at a motion. She kept her eyes locked on the Black King, every muscle poised..
The Black King watched the blade, lips curling into a slow, malevolent smile. His gray irises glinted. Then, cool as a predator,
Kang Woo smiled back. "After the Obelisk version… your head and your family come next."
The Black King's smile split wider, amusement and hunger braided together. "That was going to be my line , After I kill every Outer God and heavenly demon, I will devour you."
Kang Woo said nothing. He turned, floating Frostmourne toward the pedestal. The blade hovered midair, runes pulsing, the swirl of trapped souls spiraling around it like a blizzard of light and death.
The Black King's eyes narrowed; he could feel it coming. it begins, he thought. The creation of a Philosopher's Stone—one not born of mortal alchemy, but forged by Outer Gods themselves. The kind humanity called legend, but theirs were failures compared to this.
Division 4 collectively exhaled. Relief washed through them that these two godlike monsters—wearing the same face—hadn't reduced the world to ash in their argument.
Kang Woo finally looked over his shoulder, noticing the group for the first time. "You guys are still here?"
Himeno raised a brow, her smirk half playful, half exhausted. "Oh, you just noticed us? That's sweet. We've been standing here for a while, you know—your friends. But you treat us like we don't even exist. How rude."
Power nodded enthusiastically, her voice loud and childish. "Yeah! Buddy who knows buddy is real buddy! Not like you, black-eyes-with-red-irises freak!"
Kang Woo blinked, catching his reflection in the sheen of Frostmourne's edge. His sclera had darkened again, swallowing the whites in black—a telltale mark of excitement, corruption creeping closer. He exhaled slowly and forced it back, the color fading, his expression smoothing into its usual composure.
Makima stepped closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. Her tone was calm, but laced with worry. "Devouring three million souls and the Crimson King's whole have changed you . You're becoming… different. Are you sure you're all right, my husband ?"
Kang Woo smiled faintly, the expression deliberate, practiced. "I'm fine," he said, too easily. "Nothing's wrong with me." His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before softening just enough. "I'm still Kang Woo—the same man who teased you, and somehow made you my first wife."
Makima's lips curved into a quiet smile. She gave a small nod, saying nothing, but her eyes never left the Black King. The faint warmth in her expression didn't reach the calculating focus behind her gaze.
The Black King exhaled through his nose, a low, disdainful hmph rumbling in the air—equal parts irritation and amusement.