Seated on a black leather swivel chair, a man in a grey blazer gently stroked the hair of a little girl curled up on his lap.
She was licking a strawberry popsicle, her legs swinging freely. She laughed, her mouth stained pink.
— "One more bite, Lina. This one’s for Zara, okay ?"
The girl nodded, beaming, and took another bite.
That man was Cain Caledron—also known as Doc C.
His signature white mask, stitched over the mouth, rested on the desk beside a scalpel and a notebook filled with cramped.
Behind him, in a stasis tank filled with greenish fluid, floated a humanoid shape.
Bony protrusions jutted from its shoulders. Its eyes were uneven, and its chest pulsed around an unfamiliar organ.
The body twitched.
Then the tank shattered—glass and fluid exploding across the lab floor.
A voice rasped from the mound of at :
— "... Thought I was dead, Cain... Even from a distance, reduced to a single cell... I felt Judith’s power... She burned from the inside..."
— "Yes," Cain replied, adjusting his glasses, "Judith was one of the Royal Guard’s finest—before she went blind."
— "You knew I’d survive?"
— "Of course. You’re Ruben. You’re everything anatomy refuses to let die. You’re a nightmare that doesn’t know how to quit."
Ruben slowly took shape. He didn’t look human. Probably never had.
— "Zara... she joined your brother’s camp." he said, eyes drifting toward the girl on Cain’s lap.
— "I figured. But don’t worry... it’ll all sort itself out."
— "What did Zara do, Uncle Cain ?" the girl asked innocently.
— "Nothing at all, sweetheart. Eat up before your popsicle lts." he reassured her with a smile.
But their calm was shattered by footsteps—and the sharp clack of weapons being prid.
The reinforced door burst open.
A squad of fifteen n in plain clothes stord in, all ard with assault rifles and energy cannons.
— "Cain Caledron. You’re under arrest for treason against Eraser, for violating the Al-Rashad Protocols, and endangering the balance of this city."
Cain turned slowly, the lenses of his glasses catching the glint of red targeting lasers.
He didn’t move. He simply ran a hand through Lina’s hair.
— "Uncle Cain... are they bad n ?" she whispered.
— "No, honey. They’re just pretending. It’s like a play, you see ?"
He rose—no sudden movents. Ruben, already poised to obliterate the squad, was halted by a simple glance.
Cain raised his hands. He let them cuff him.
A soldier gently lifted Lina into his arms. She didn’t resist, but her eyes couldn’t hide her fear.
The three of them were escorted under heavy guard toward the central execution stage of Al-Rashad—the beating heart of the underground city.
A place of judgnt, of spectacle, and of public condemnation.
---
An coliseum buried deep in the bowels of the earth.
Once, it had hosted the harshest rulings of the World Governnt.
The iron gates clanged shut behind them. Three figures—one towering, one twisted, and one small and carefree—walked into the echoing pit of the Scaffold Square.
Little Lina clutched her lting popsicle, eyes darting between the ard guards and her silent uncle.
Above them, Al-Rashad roared.
— "Die, you bastard Caledron!"
— "You sold us out!"
— "Kill the diploma-less freak!"
— "This is where we put down the sick animals, Doc... You should be honored." The voice ca from above—Al-Rakhim, the ruler of Al-Rashad. Even the Inquisitors called him "The Sultan of the Desert."
Cain looked up. No fear. No anger. Not even disdain. Just cold indifference.
Lina, still licking her now-syrupy popsicle, tilted her head.
— "I built this shit with you, Cain!" shouted Al-Rakhim from his high platform. "Rember?! I pulled you out of your grave, fed you like a stray mutt, and this is how you repay ?! You bite the hand that saved you!"
Cain lifted his gaze to et him, his hand resting protectively on the little girl’s head.
— "You saved ?..."
He chuckled—softly, mockingly.
— "No. You didn’t save . You broke . Turned a sick child into a dissecting machine. Made carve up corpses for your gain. I was useful. But don’t kid yourself... I saved you."
The crowd erupted. Screams. Insults. Accusations.
They spat his na. Called him ungrateful, demon, traitor.
Rotten fruit and rocks flew, so nearly hitting Lina—Ruben twitched, ready to kill.
— "Tch... They’re ready to stone a child," he muttered to Cain. "You’re gonna let that slide ?"
Cain didn’t answer.
He was staring upward—toward the rocky ceiling that passed for a sky.
As if... waiting.
Then, with calm, he raised one hand and whispered, barely audible :
— "Co to , Gungnir."
One second passed.
Then—the ceiling exploded.
Stone and dust rained down as a deafening blast rocked the coliseum.
A golden light pierced the dark like a divine judgnt.
And from above—she fell.
A white teor. A golden spear.
It ripped through the crowd, reducing bodies to pulp, and then—like lightning—shot straight through Al-Rakhim’s chest, nailing him to the wall.
The impact tore his heart clean from his body. His eyes went wide with shock and fear—then lifeless.
Cain held out his hand. The spear returned, heart still impaled on it.
He stared at it for a mont. Then looked up at the stunned, frozen crowd.
— "The old order is dead. It rotted too long. You think we’re the traitors ? No... Your real enemies are the ones who trained you to obey like dogs."
He raised the spear.
— "I am Cain. I am Doc C. I am the new dawn. This city, this order, this era... now belong to . Those who rise with have a place in this world. The rest... can follow Rakhim."
A silence heavier than stone.
Then—soone dropped to their knees.
Then another.
And another.
Ruben watched from the edge, half in awe, half in fear.
— "Still the king of dramatic entrances, huh... Doc."
Cain wiped Rakhim’s blood off his jacket, smiling faintly.
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