"AAAAAAAGH—!!!"
Nolan Mercer's scream was already hoarse, already broken… and yet it still tore out of him like a dying animal.
He'd completely lost it.
"WHY?! WHY?!" he shrieked, eyes bloodshot. "Didn't I answer you?! I didn't even get it wrong!!"
Adrian Vale looked down at him, expression unreadable behind the Ghoul-Eye Mask.
Then he spoke—flat, calm, almost bored.
"Too quiet."
"…What?"
"Didn't eat today?" Adrian Vale tilted his head slightly. "Say it louder."
For a second, Nolan Mercer's brain actually short-circuited.
He'd shouted as loud as his lungs could manage.
And this… this monster was saying it was too quiet?
What kind of logic was that?
Even when Nolan Mercer used to "play" with victims, he'd at least invent a believable excuse before he escalated.
But Adrian Vale?
Too quiet.
Didn't eat.
A targeted rule that existed for one reason only: to keep the suffering going.
"YOU—!! You little—!! You're just—"
He didn't finish.
RIP—!!
A sound that made every viewer's scalp go tight.
Another nail—torn free.
Adrian Vale flicked it aside like trash.
The third one.
He didn't even look satisfied. He looked… routine.
Like he was checking steps off a list.
His voice stayed level:
"Did I tell you to talk extra?"
He leaned in a fraction.
"One more time."
"1000 − 7 equals what?"
Nolan Mercer's teeth chattered uncontrollably.
The fingers Adrian Vale had "worked on" were already a mess—blood slicking his palm, raw flesh grinding into dust and grit, pain spiking every time he twitched.
But what could he do?
He couldn't fight.
He couldn't run.
He couldn't even beg properly—his throat was shredded from screaming.
So he forced the answer out through clenched teeth:
"993!!"
Livestream Chat: …That "Normal Student"?
The livestream, which had been roaring nonstop for minutes, dipped into an uneasy silence.
"…This is the 'ordinary student' we were talking about earlier?"
"Adrian Vale right now feels… terrifying."
"He's really just a student? Why does his technique look more practiced than Nolan Mercer's?"
"Scary… but also… weirdly cool?"
"Bro, you're not normal."
"Okay but… the way he snaps his finger is lowkey stylish—don't kill me."
"I don't feel stylish. I feel pain."
"HE DID IT AGAIN—my fingers hurt just watching!"
"Same. Phantom pain unlocked!"
Eastern Isles: Complete Meltdown
Back in the Eastern Isles command room, the balding, round-faced official was already half-feral.
First, Dragon Nation's leaders had played him like a toy.
Then his own secretary had snapped and slapped him.
And now—live, in front of the entire world—Nolan Mercer, their "asset," was being dismantled piece by piece.
"BAKA!! BAKA!!" he roared, face purple. "DRAGON NATION!! DRAGON NATION!! I will never forgive you—!!!"
He cursed until he ran out of breath.
Then he spun on the silent officials below him and started lashing out again.
"You useless parasites! All you do is take salaries and eat and eat and eat! When do you ever solve anything?!"
No one spoke. They'd seen this tantrum routine a thousand times.
But this time, the room's fear wasn't about him.
It was about what was happening inside the Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone.
Finally, he slammed a fist down.
"No. Even if we can't stop it, we can't let Dragon Nation walk away clean!"
One official swallowed.
"…Then what do we do, sir?"
His eyes gleamed with spite.
"Condemn them. Internationally."
The Global Condemnation Farce
Within minutes, the Eastern Isles launched an "official statement" to the world.
And the reason?
Not strategy. Not justice.
Pure humiliation.
They screamed about "morality" and "humanity" with the same mouths that had cheered when Nolan Mercer tortured others.
Their talking points came in a neat stack:
"Dragon Nation is already the world's strongest nation, yet refuses to help weaker countries!"
"They look down on everyone and even suppress others!"
"Their competitor is using inhumane methods to torture our competitor!"
"We strongly condemn this evil behavior!"
"Dragon Nation should be sanctioned and expelled from Blue Star!"
And of course, a bunch of countries instantly "supported" them.
Old rivals.
Bitter enemies.
Or nations that couldn't stand watching Dragon Nation soar.
They didn't care about Nolan Mercer.
They cared about the scoreboard.
They even demanded Dragon Nation "share the manifested resources" as "compensation."
Dragon Nation's top brass didn't even bother replying.
Because everyone knew what this really was:
When Nolan Mercer tortured the Shambles Nation competitors, these same people were silent—or worse, applauding.
Now that the blade had turned?
Suddenly they discovered "human rights."
Elder Long narrowed his eyes, a cold light flashing.
"So that's the game you want to play…"
Keyboard Warriors: Mobilize
If Dragon Nation's leaders stayed silent, Dragon Nation's internet didn't.
They went to war.
The comment sections became battlefields.
And the Dragon Nation "keyboard immortals" marched like an army—seven charges in, seven charges out—fighting across every platform, every language, every thread.
No mercy. No breathing room.
Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone — Keep Subtracting
While the outside world screamed politics, inside the Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone the "lesson" continued.
Nolan Mercer thought answering correctly would buy him a breath.
Adrian Vale didn't even blink.
"Mm."
Then, like he was continuing a math drill:
"Keep subtracting."
Nolan Mercer froze.
"What…?"
RIP—!!
Another brutal sound. Another spike of pain.
Nolan Mercer's remaining nails were disappearing fast.
He finally understood something—too late:
This wasn't a negotiation.
This wasn't punishment.
This was Adrian Vale enjoying the control.
And worse—
Adrian Vale was a type Nolan Mercer recognized.
A predator who didn't need excuses.
A predator who didn't need rage.
A predator who could do it calmly.
Nolan Mercer's vision swam.
Adrian Vale's red-black eye watched him from an angle that felt… wrong.
Behind him, four dark-red Kagune drifted and coiled like patient snakes.
In Nolan Mercer's mind, they weren't "tails" anymore.
They were scythes.
No—
worse than death.
They were the thing that kept death away so the suffering could continue.
Nolan Mercer's emotions collapsed into a single word:
Fear.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Fear.
And he didn't dare speak anything unnecessary anymore.
The Chat Connects the Dots
As Nolan Mercer broke down, the livestream started noticing something darker than the pain.
"Wait… 1000 minus 7…"
"Holy—this is worse than 1000 plus 7."
"Yeah. Plus becomes a pattern. Early on it's manageable."
"But minus? There's no rhythm. Every step is fresh calculation."
"And if you mess up even once—"
"—you suffer more."
"So the real point is forcing the victim to stay conscious and calculate, so they can't pass out."
"…That's horrifying."
Someone typed a single line.
"I just remembered the name of Adrian Vale's outfit…"
"Black Reaper."
And like a spark hitting dry grass, the nickname spread.
Black Reaper Adrian Vale.
The Mask Zipper
Adrian Vale finally paused—not because of mercy.
Because the scent had thickened.
Blood.
Too much blood.
Too close.
His hunger—his ghoul instincts—stirred violently.
He lifted one Kagune, stained dark.
Then, in front of the entire world, he reached up and pulled the zipper at the mouth of the Ghoul-Eye Mask.
Ziiiiip—
The mask opened.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Then Adrian Vale tilted his head back and let the blood drip in.
For a second, the entire chat went blank.
"…Is he drinking—"
"…Blood?"
"Bro, if you're thirsty, drink water—"
"NOT THAT."
"I can only say this: Eat-Stream Adrian Vale really is Eat-Stream Adrian Vale."
"WHO is the real killer here?!"
"Stop!! That man's blood is filthy!!"
"…I can't believe I'm seeing people type 'use mine instead' right now."
Adrian Vale's breathing steadied.
Something in him… soothed.
Then his gaze returned to Nolan Mercer.
Cold again.
Mechanical again.
Like the hunger had only sharpened the blade.
"Continue."
His voice dropped.
"Continue."
Nolan Mercer's mind was barely functioning.
Pain blurred time.
Numbers floated through wreckage.
He answered on instinct now, terrified of hesitation:
"986!! 986!!"
RIP—!!
Adrian Vale didn't stop.
"Too slow."
Nolan Mercer's eyes rolled back.
He almost blacked out.
But the next spike of pain yanked him right back into consciousness.
That was the true cruelty of it.
Not just the suffering—
but the way Adrian Vale refused to allow Nolan Mercer the mercy of unconsciousness.
Nolan Mercer tried again, frantic, voice cracking:
"979!! 979!!"
And then he realized he'd almost said the wrong thing.
That single near-mistake—made under pressure—would cost him.
He was trapped.
Dragged deeper into the same method he used on others.
Except Adrian Vale's version was worse.
Because subtraction didn't let the brain coast.
Every step demanded clarity.
And clarity was exactly what pain destroyed.
So the victim had to hold both at once—
pain and calculation—
until the mind broke.
Black Reaper
By now, Nolan Mercer was barely recognizable as a person.
Blood soaked the ground.
His hands and feet were ruined.
His face was a blurred mess of bruises and cuts.
And Adrian Vale stood over him like a shadow given shape—white hair, black suit, one kakugan burning.
The four Kagune behind him swayed like a crown of blades.
The chat had gone from cheering to stunned awe to a kind of dread.
Even the studio fell quiet.
Captain Cole—who had seen real death—finally exhaled and muttered, almost to himself:
"…This is…"
Sienna Blake's voice came out shaky.
"I know he deserves it," she whispered. "I know. But… watching it is still…"
Dr. Hart adjusted his glasses, voice dry but uneasy.
"…Adrian Vale's precision is frightening."
The System Speaks
And then—
Adrian Vale's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
As if something invisible had tapped him on the shoulder.
Because in his mind, a familiar voice rang out:
[Detected host behavior highly consistent with Ken Kaneki.]
[Portrayal Sync increased —0.1%!]
Adrian Vale's ghoul eye narrowed.
And for the first time since this "lesson" began…
it looked like something was about to change.
Not just Nolan Mercer's fate—
but Adrian Vale's role.
Not Foodie Adrian
Not "ordinary student."
But the name the world was starting to whisper now—
Black Reaper.
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