The night before the world would tremble, Arata stood atop a high-rise building, his figure barely visible against the city lights below. His expression was calm, almost serene, as the breeze caught his coat, fluttering it around his body. His eyes, however, glinted with a dangerous excitement as he gazed down at the sprawling Hex headquarters in London, its imposing structure unaware of the chaos about to unfold.

Behind him stood the others, each prepared for the mission ahead. Uriel was pacing back and forth, twirling a small knife between his fingers. Elio leaned against a wall, arms crossed, his eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the area. The Queen stood a little farther back, her face tense with unease, while Cheese, Butter, Lance, and Thronjaw each maintained their positions, waiting for Arata’s command.

Arata turned slightly, just enough to see his comrades from the corner of his eye. His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “It’s time,” he said, voice dripping with anticipation. “We’re going to blow Hex to hell.”

They moved swiftly through the night, infiltrating the Hex headquarters with precision. Uriel led the way, his movements graceful and silent, while Elio, the master strategist, followed close behind, guiding the team. Butter and Cheese took care of surveillance, disarming security cameras and rerouting signals. The Queen walked beside Arata, her face pale, her steps hesitant.

Inside the headquarters, the halls were filled with unsuspecting employees, unaware of the impending doom. Arata’s eyes scanned the crowd. He had no interest in innocents, only those who had dirt on their hands. His smile widened as he recognized some familiar faces.

There was Malcolm Price, a high-ranking official who had been known to cover up murders committed by Hex agents. Sarah Dawes, the head of a covert torture division, who enjoyed manipulating the memories of captured Undergrounders. Henry Lenton, an agent who ran an illegal black-market weapons trade for Hex, dealing in explosives and biological weapons. And then there was Julia Morgan, an informant who sold the identities of refugees and rebels to the highest bidder. Arata had no mercy for any of them.

“These are the ones,” Arata whispered to Uriel. “Make sure they’re marked.”

Uriel’s hand was quick, his knife gliding effortlessly through the air. In one swift motion, he slashed into the mainframe of the security system, disabling the alarms. With another flick of his wrist, small charges were set at key points throughout the building, just enough to destroy the infrastructure but leave a path for the innocents to escape.

Meanwhile, Lance took charge of evacuating the 943 civilians, creating exits with explosive precision, blowing holes in the walls where needed. “Move, now!” Lance shouted, his voice authoritative, as he guided the frightened employees away from the building. Butter and Cheese aided in the evacuation, rounding up people and shooing them toward safety, their own faces showing a mix of excitement and professionalism.

As they neared the final stages of the operation, The Queen hesitated, her steps faltering. Her usually regal demeanor faltered, and her eyes flicked to Arata, doubt creeping into her mind. "Arata… are we doing the right thing?" she whispered, her voice soft but filled with concern. Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the fabric of her dress, her usual confidence wavering.

Arata, sensing her doubt, turned toward her, his face softening for a brief moment. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, his fingers pressing into her skin with an odd combination of reassurance and control. "Listen," he said, his voice low but firm, “these people are criminals. They’ve caused pain and suffering to others. The ones we’ve marked… they deserve this.” He leaned in closer, his eyes locking with hers, the flicker of madness still present, but softened. “I need you with me on this, Queen. We’ve come too far to back down now.”

The Queen swallowed hard, her breath shaky. She nodded, though her heart still pounded with uncertainty. “I trust you,” she whispered, more to herself than to Arata.

Arata’s smile widened, a mix of affection and menace. “Good. Let’s finish this.”

As the final charges were set, the group exited the building, Uriel and Elio following closely behind Arata. They made it to a safe distance, and without a word, Arata pulled out a small detonator. His finger hovered over the button for just a moment, the thrill of the moment evident in his eyes. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he pressed it.

The explosion was deafening, a thunderous roar that shook the ground beneath them. Flames shot into the sky as the Hex headquarters crumbled, collapsing in on itself. Smoke billowed into the air, and the fire lit up the night like a beacon of destruction.

Arata watched the inferno with a wild grin, his eyes reflecting the flames. “Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Stolen novel; please report.

The following day, the world was in shock. Headlines screamed about the destruction of Hex’s London headquarters, the death toll officially set at 78, all of whom had been involved in various heinous crimes. The rest had been spared, evacuated before the bombs went off.

In the newsroom, panic filled the air. The anchorwoman’s face was pale as she recounted the devastating attack, her voice trembling. “The terrorists were Undergrounders of the Queen faction, and two Ex-Ringmasters, Ryuki Arata…” The screen flashed to a grainy image of Arata, his face twisted in a devious grin as he flashed a middle finger to the camera, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Suddenly, the newsroom doors flew open with a loud crash, splinters of wood flying in all directions. The anchorwoman gasped, her body going rigid with fear. She backed up instinctively, her eyes wide as Arata strolled into the room, followed by Uriel, Elio, The Queen, Cheese, Butter, Lance, and Thronjaw. The air in the room grew heavy with tension, every eye glued to the group.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing here?” The newswoman’s voice was shrill, fear dripping from her words. Her hands trembled as she clutched the desk in front of her, trying to steady herself.

Arata’s steps were slow and deliberate as he approached, his expression calm but menacing. He leaned in slightly, his smirk growing wider. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, his voice like silk. “I won’t hurt you.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before standing up straight again, his gaze sweeping over the room. “I’m just here to warn the world.”

His eyes gleamed as he looked directly into the camera, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Be careful of Hex. They aren’t the organization you think they are. They won’t protect you from every fucking threat out there.” His voice rose slightly, the anger creeping into his words. “In fact, they didn’t even help when Thronjaw attacked a gaming company and took 250 people hostage.”

Arata turned back toward the anchorwoman, her face white with terror. “The person I killed, Travis Loverheart, he raped people. He used his Ringmaster Cupid power to manipulate others for his own sick pleasure.” His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “And the 78 people who died? They weren’t innocent. Every single one of them had committed crimes. I’m just delivering justice.”

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle in before smiling again, a chilling grin that reached his eyes. “And I’m not stopping here. I’ll take down every Hex organization in every corner of the world.”

Turning back to the camera, Arata’s gaze darkened. “Warrier,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “I’m coming for you next. I’m making my way to New Zealand. Let’s see if you can stop me.”

In the sprawling office of the USA Hex headquarters, the tension was palpable as Dan leaned forward in his chair, eyes glued to the screen. “Umm… That’s Arata?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as the image of Arata flashed across the monitor.

Jennifer, sitting beside him, nodded slowly, her expression a mix of concern and recognition. “That’s always how Arata has been. I mean, I’ve been telling you guys that he’s been acting strange ever since I joined Hex.” Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, betraying her anxiousness.

Carly crossed her arms tightly, brows furrowing as she tried to process the transformation before her. “I didn’t know strange meant… a complete character change.” She shook her head in disbelief, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Lila leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, her body language dripping with sarcasm. “What a fucking actor… He completely fooled us into thinking he was some helpless kid trying his best to join Hex…” Her tone was bitter, and she rolled her eyes, frustration evident in her posture.

Suddenly, Alex shot up from his seat, fists clenched at his sides. “Arata… We are going to Newzland. I am going to kill that bastard!” He stood tall, the muscles in his arms flexing as he spoke, anger radiating from him.

“Here is Alex and his little feats…” Lila sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes again as she leaned back, exasperation etched on her face. She tapped her fingers on the table, impatience simmering beneath her calm exterior.

“Seriously though,” Lila continued, her tone shifting to a more serious note as she looked at the group, “we need to stop him before he ends up in a shithole for killing people left and right… At least right now, things are redeemable…” Her eyes darted between her teammates, her worry clear in her furrowed brows.

Jennifer’s voice was steady, though her eyes betrayed her concern. “It’s Arata; I’m sure he will be fine. After all, he’s a genius that no one can reach.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, trying to project confidence even as her heart raced at the thought of what Arata might do next.

Meanwhile, on the Plane to Newzland

Arata sat comfortably in the plush seat of the private jet, a smirk plastered across his face as he gazed out the window at the clouds drifting by. His hands rested on his knees, fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with the drone of the engines, a stark contrast to the turmoil he had left behind.

He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes half-closed, savoring the moment as he plotted his next move. His smile widened, revealing a hint of mischief. The thrill of chaos tingled in his veins, invigorating him.

In the quiet space of the plane, he absentmindedly traced patterns on the armrest, his mind racing with possibilities. Each potential victim, each plan formed a web of intrigue that made his heart race with excitement. He could almost hear the echo of their fears, their cries for mercy, but those thoughts only fueled his anticipation.

His body was relaxed yet coiled with energy, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. As the plane glided smoothly through the air, he looked back out the window, the sun setting in the distance, casting a golden hue over the horizon.

Arata chuckled softly to himself, the sound barely above a whisper, but it was laced with an ominous thrill. “Just wait,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with ambition. “Newzland won’t know what hit it.”