Joseph's hand rose slowly, heavily, burdened with exhaustion, pierced by betrayal—as if it carried the weight of loss and defeat upon it. And yet, despite everything, it rose… and touched the entity's hand.
And the moment their hands met, everything changed.
The foggy world vanished instantly, as if it had been nothing more than a fleeting nightmare. Joseph returned to reality in an instant.
And the enemy advancing toward him, laughing, waving his knife with chilling calmness.
The enemy spoke with disdain, staring at the exhausted Joseph:
"Heh, you look pathetic… It's a shame you're going to die, but honestly… you made this fun for me."
He stepped forward with confident strides until he stood directly in front of him. He raised his hand, ready to deliver the final blow… A moment of silence blanketed the scene—one of those silences that comes before a storm no one can predict.
But… the unexpected happened.
A sudden explosion of thick black mist burst from Joseph's body, violently hurling the enemy backward, as if an unknown force had spat him out of the space.
The man stumbled back, his face painted with shock. Something had changed.
Joseph rose slowly from the ground, his body still burdened, but his stance now carried a new meaning. His eyes remained shut, his head bowed low—but this stillness was not weakness… it was the calm before the storm.
Mist began to seep from his body, thickening gradually until it filled the air with a terrifying aura, draping the surroundings in a silence reminiscent of a graveyard. The scene was terrifying—even to the enemy, who was unaccustomed to fear. But the fear wasn't of that exhausted body… it was of what now resided within it.
The enemy shouted defiantly, trying to break the dread that crept into his chest:
"Hey! You… do you think this will save you? In the end, you're still ranked below me! Just a weakling grasping at a straw of hope before drowning!"
But…
The response from Joseph… was unexpected.
His voice emerged calm, deep, laced with a commanding tone that sliced through the silence like a blade:
"Did I give you permission to speak?"
The enemy froze in place, a flicker of confusion flashing across his face. He tried to mask his fear with a mocking tone:
"Trying to provoke me? Or have you finally lost it?"
But the moment he finished his words, the black mist began coiling around Joseph's feet, then spiraled upward in a twisting vortex rising from his body.
And in a split second—before the enemy could catch his breath—Joseph lunged toward him with unbelievable speed. All he saw was a blur of mist rushing at him like a lethal flash, and all he felt was his breath choking under a steel grip tightening around his neck.
Joseph lifted him off the ground with one hand, his voice returning—more terrifying than before:
"Do not speak to the King unless granted permission."
Then he hurled him with such force that the enemy tumbled across the ground, staggering. He rose with difficulty, his features pale, his heart pounding in terror. He knew there was no escape now—something had changed, something inexplicable.
With a trembling voice, he muttered:
"W-Who… are you?!"
And then… Joseph raised his head.
His eyes were revealed, and they were no longer the human eyes once known. They were black, shrouded in a dark mist, as if they were gateways to a bottomless hell.
Joseph spoke, his voice laced with a strange echo—as if more than one being were speaking through him:
"Didn't I tell you… not to speak unless I give you permission?"
Gripped by sheer panic, the enemy played his final card. He screamed, unleashing seven copies of himself from his body, surrounding him in preparation for a last desperate attack on Joseph… but deep down, he knew that what stood before him now… was no longer human.
Joseph stood in the center of the room, motionless like a statue carved from shadow, not a single movement in his form. The black mist had spread across the floor until it was no longer visible, as if the ground itself had vanished beneath his cloak. The seven copies lined up to his left, poised to strike, while Joseph's face remained devoid of all emotion… as if he had shed his humanity.
Those black, mist-filled eyes were nothing short of a death sentence for anyone who dared meet them.
The copies suddenly moved, striking with blinding speed, attacking Joseph from all directions, phantom after phantom—but they never reached him. They were merely illusions… hollow tricks that passed through his body like air between fingers, leaving no trace, no harm.
But when the original copy approached, clutching the same knife, the unexpected happened.
Joseph turned toward him. In the instant the enemy lunged, Joseph's body transformed into a mass of black mist—vanishing from his spot as thick fog swallowed every corner of the room. There was no longer any direction, no ground, no light… everything had turned into a suffocating haze, as if the world itself had become a living nightmare.
From the heart of that mist, dark chains emerged—serpent-like—and lunged at the enemy without warning.
The chains coiled around his neck, his arms, and his lower body. They bound him with terrifying force, inescapable. Horror etched itself across his face, as if his heart had plunged into an abyss with no end.
Then Joseph appeared before him, in the midst of that mist-drenched world—still standing, still terrifying.
The enemy said,
"H-How did you know I was the original one?"
Joseph answered, his voice emerging from the depths of darkness, layered with multiple tones as if more than one being spoke at once:
"Who has lived in the darkness… sees everything."
The moment his words ended, the chains tightened their grip. The enemy's body convulsed, then his head was severed in a single, silent… majestic instant.
The mist vanished, and the chains dissolved into the air as if they had never existed. The enemy's headless body collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out in torrents, painting a gruesome scene across the room's floor.
Joseph lifted his gaze toward the upper corner of the room, where no one else could see—but his dark eyes spotted four pale bodies floating above. They were not physical bodies in the usual sense, but spirits… the souls of people from the upper floor.
Joseph walked out of the room with steady steps, and in his wake, the black mist began to pour forth densely, flooding the floor and hallways, creeping like a curse—leaving behind nothing but the dread of silence.
In one of the rooms on the upper floor, Yugi Muto, the head of the place, was seated with two of his aides. In front of them was a man with his hands bound, writhing under the president's brutal blows, as blood traced painful lines across his face.
Yugi Muto grabbed a knife, then brought it close to the victim's eye, whispering with a voice full of malice:
"You lost me money… so you'll lose your sight because of me."
But just before he drove the blade in, he suddenly stopped. Something was happening.
Mist had begun to seep in from beneath the large office door, creeping in with a disturbing calm until it covered the entire floor. The two aides exchanged glances, unease beginning to seep into their chests.
"What… is this?" one of them muttered—but the answer came swiftly… and terrifying.
The door exploded open with terrifying force, and Joseph stepped inside, twin daggers in hand, his presence so imposing it made the very air in the room grow heavy.
Yugi Muto's face went pale, and he stumbled a step backward, panic clearly etched in his eyes.
"H-How?! Did he take out the guards?!"
Joseph said nothing. He stood there like a body of shadow, soulless. His mist-shrouded gaze alone was enough to snuff the breath out of everyone in the room.
Yugi Muto's two aides froze in place, each drawing a pistol and aiming straight at Joseph's chest.
But Yugi, trying to regain control, scoffed with forced mockery:
"Well, well… have you come to suffer the same fate as this poor soul?
And he pointed his knife toward the man he had been torturing just moments before.
But Joseph… didn't give him the chance.
In a split second, he moved faster than the human eye could follow—darting between the two aides, leaving behind only a hazy trail, as if the room had warped for a moment before snapping back to reality.
The aides' heads dropped simultaneously, rolling slowly across the floor, soaked in the hell that had poured from Joseph's daggers.
Yugi Muto stood frozen in place—unmoving, breathless… completely consumed by terror.
The thick fog still blanketed the floor of the room like a black ocean, undulating with a chilling calm. From beneath Joseph's feet, black chains emerged—born from the very shadows of hell—lashing out at Yugi Muto. They bound him savagely, slamming him against the wall with brutal force. He could no longer move—not from fear, nor from the sheer power of the restraints, which clutched him like fangs.
Joseph advanced toward him with steady steps, his dagger hanging loosely from his hand, his face expressionless—soulless.
He stopped before him, staring into his trembling eyes, and spoke in a voice as calm as death:
"Do you dare threaten the king?"
Yugi Muto didn't understand—he cried out in a shaking voice:
"W-What are you talking about?!"
The only response… was a deep, merciless stab.
Joseph drove his dagger into Yugi's abdomen, ripping through his insides with wide, tearing wounds. Yugi screamed in agonized madness, his voice filling the room as if his very soul were being ripped out.
Joseph, his tone ice-cold, said:
"Don't speak… unless I give you permission."
Then he pulled the dagger free, plunging his hand into the wound, searching without mercy, without hesitation. Yugi Muto's screams grew louder and louder, but they were met with nothing… but indifference.
I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to! It was… it was all Sojin's plan! He offered the money! Please… please forgive me!"
But Joseph didn't answer. He didn't acknowledge the plea, didn't see him as human .
He grabbed the man's intestines and slowly pulled them out, his voice cold and deadly:
"I'll paint the ground with your blood."
He began slicing them piece by piece, while Yugi writhed in agony. Then Joseph leaned forward, pressed his dagger against Yugi's chest, and drove it deep into his lung.
A gasp escaped Yugi's mouth—choked, wet with blood.
And still… Joseph didn't stop.
He stabbed.
Again.
And again.
Over and over, until Yugi Mutou's screams vanished into silence. The only sound left was that of metal piercing flesh… and blood dripping onto the floor.
When he finally stopped, the room was drenched in madness.
Joseph turned to his left.
There, in the corner, the man who had been tied up was staring at him—eyes wide with a terror that defied description.
His face was twisted with horror, breath caught in his throat.
Then, suddenly… he ran.
He sprinted toward the window—and jumped.
Time froze.
The fog vanished. The chains disappeared. Even Joseph's daggers were gone.
And his eyes… turned human again.
He stood there, utterly drained, unable to move.
From the upper floor, a loud crash echoed.
The man's body hit the ground, right in front of the arriving officers and security agents—just seconds too late.
He lay there, lifeless, soaked in blood.
And in the room upstairs, the stench of intestines filled the air. Severed heads were scattered across the floor. Blood was everywhere.
And in the center of it all… was Joseph.
Standing for a brief moment—then collapsing.
He hit the ground, unconscious.
And when the police and agents stormed in, they found him lying motionless… surrounded by the very blood he had spilled.