Waking up Paradox found his harem, Daughter, and Sister asleep in the living room after the party they had the night prior

  Letting the girls sleep, Paradox stretched lazily, his crimson eyes half-lidded with a perpetual look of boredom. He leaned back against the couch, arms draped over the top like a king on his throne, contemplating his next move.

  Just as he was about to step out, the television caught his attention.

  The news broadcast displayed familiar faces—Sonora, Blitz Beetle, Omni Eve, and Velvet Rabbit—heroes he had encountered before. However, three unfamiliar ones stood among them: Feline FuryIron SentinelSwiftstorm

  Paradox clicked his tongue, unimpressed. he muttered, arms still folded as he eyed Iron Sentinel’s armor.

  The TV footage showcased Feline Fury in action—moving with feline grace, striking down criminals with rapid, agile movements. Her body suit was skintight, accentuating her athletic build, and her retractable claws made quick work of her enemies.

  Next was Iron Sentinel, his sleek black armor illuminated by blue energy veins pulsing through the plating. His helmet design was aerodynamic, with an integrated visor displaying real-time data. The suit had forearm blades, built-in energy disruptors, and short-range thrusters for enhanced mobility. His flowing nanoweave cape gave him an intimidating presence.

  Paradox smirked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  While the TV droned on about their heroic exploits, Paradox had already made up his mind.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and exited the house, humming a quiet tune as he wandered through the dead of night.

  The streets were eerily silent, illuminated only by flickering streetlights. Paradox walked leisurely, his head bobbing slightly as he continued humming.

  Then, something caught his eye.

  A man—tall, scruffy, dressed in ragged clothing—was leading a group of , their hands and feet bound in chains, toward a dark alley. The oldest among them couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Their faces were pale, fear evident in their wide eyes as they shuffled forward.

  Paradox stopped. His half-lidded eyes sharpened, the usual amusement on his face fading.

  His presence vanished in an instant. The night swallowed him whole, his movements silent as he followed.

  The man led the children through the alley, stopping at an old, abandoned building. He pulled open a rusted metal door and ushered them inside. Paradox trailed them, his curiosity piqued.

  Inside, an underground bunker was concealed beneath the decrepit structure. The air was thick with the stench of damp concrete and sweat. The dimly lit chamber held a small balding, rotund manyoung girlyoung man

  The girl was clad in a jagged, black and gray bodysuit, plated armor layered over her shoulders and arms. Her tattered cloak, with a crimson interior, swayed with each movement. The crossed-out infinity symboldeep red eyes

  Beside her, the young man exuded an entirely different aura. His short, black hair had a single silver streak along the left side, and his steely gray

  Paradox thought, recognizing their efficiency.

  The pudgy man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.

  he chuckled, waving a stubby hand.

  One of the enforcers behind him—a man in a tactical suit—stepped forward, handing the trafficker a briefcase. He flipped it open, revealing stacks of money

  He was already marked.

  Paradox sighed, shaking his head.

  But he wasn’t here for some low-tier scum. His gaze shifted back to the two figures behind the crime boss.

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  Paradox’s lips curled into a smirk.

  The underground chamber reeked of filth and despair, the air thick with the stench of damp stone and human suffering. Dim lanterns flickered weakly, barely illuminating the wretched scene before them. A group of frightened children sat huddled together, their eyes hollow with fear, their bodies trembling as cold iron shackles bit into their frail wrists. Their captor, a short, chubby man with beady, gluttonous eyes, licked his lips as he reached for one of the children.

  "What are you going to do to these children?" The young woman standing behind him asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

  The man turned, an amused sneer curling across his greasy lips. "What do you think? Have some fun with them first, then sell them off." His grin widened, his yellowed teeth glistening under the lantern’s feeble light.

  The girl’s stomach churned in disgust, her fingers twitching toward the weapon at her hip. But before she could act, a firm hand clasped her shoulder, halting her.

  "Don't do anything reckless," the man beside her whispered, his voice low and firm. "We’re on a mission. I can’t have you blowing our cover."

  She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stand down, though every fiber of her being screamed at her to act.

  The chubby man chuckled, turning back toward the children. His pudgy fingers reached out, grasping for a trembling little girl whose tears streaked down her dirt-covered cheeks.

  Before he could lay a hand on her, a sudden blur of motion filled the air.

  A sharp cry of agony tore through the chamber.

  The chubby man’s eyes bulged as his arms fell cleanly to the ground, severed at the shoulders. Blood sprayed from the stumps, drenching his fine silk robes as he let out a guttural, pain-ridden scream.

  "AAGGHH! MY ARMS! WHO—WHO THE HELL CUT OFF MY ARMS?!"

  His bodyguards were at his side in an instant, weapons drawn, eyes darting wildly in search of the assailant.

  A slow, eerie tapping noise echoed through the chamber—steady, deliberate, unhurried.

  From the shadows, a lone figure emerged.

  Paradox.

  His crimson eyes glowed like burning embers in the dim light, his spiky white hair catching the flickering glow of the lanterns. He twirled his Omni Scythe lazily around his finger, the blade gleaming ominously, exuding an otherworldly presence.

  "That would be me," he said, a smirk playing on his lips, his voice carrying an unsettling amusement.

  Both bodyguards stiffened, a shiver running down their spines as recognition dawned upon them.

  "You... You’re Paradox, aren’t you?" The young man asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Paradox tilted his head slightly. "Yeah, that's me. Why do you ask?"

  "We've heard a lot about you. An anomaly. A force of destruction that chooses no side. You have power beyond comprehension, yet you squander it on mere amusement."

  Paradox exhaled in mild boredom. "Yeah, yeah. Get to the point. What do you want?"

  The girl beside him, her body still tense with restrained anger, took a step forward.

  "Where is my sister?"

  The words had barely left her lips when the man beside her immediately seized her mouth, silencing her. She struggled, her crimson eyes burning with frustration.

  "Ignore her," the man said quickly, tightening his grip. "What we truly want to know is... how did you achieve such power? We've watched your battles. You intrigue our organization."

  Paradox’s smirk widened. "Not telling."

  His fingers tapped the handle of his scythe.

  "Now, are we gonna fight, or are you just gonna waste my time?"

  That was the last straw.

  The girl tore herself from her companion’s grip and lunged at Paradox, her fist cocked back, aimed directly for his head.

  The very air cracked as her punch tore through the space between them.

  Paradox caught it effortlessly.

  The sheer force of her blow sent a ripple through the air, the ground beneath them trembling as cracks formed beneath his feet. His crimson eyes flickered with interest.

  "Not bad," he mused, his grip tightening slightly. "You’re strong. But I bet your sister’s stronger."

  Rage flashed in her eyes.

  "How about I show you how strong I am when I rip your head from your shoulders?!"

  She spun, driving a powerful kick into his side, sending him skidding backward. Without hesitation, she unleashed a flurry of knives and daggers. They struck true, embedding themselves into Paradox’s flesh.

  For a moment, silence reigned.

  Then—he chuckled.

  "Not bad, not bad," Paradox said, brushing off the blades as if they were mere inconveniences. His wounds closed instantly.

  "Now my turn."

  Before she could react, he vanished.

  Reappearing in an instant, his fist buried deep in her stomach.

  A sickening echoed through the chamber.

  Her body flew backward, smashing into a solid stone wall. Dust and debris rained down as she slumped forward, coughing up blood.

  "I'm sure you can do better than that," Paradox taunted, a cruel grin stretching across his face.

  She wiped the blood from her lips, her face betraying no hint of pain.

  With a slow, deliberate movement, she pulled something from thin air—an obsidian-black scythe, its crimson engravings pulsing like a beating heart.

  "This," she murmured, "is ."

  A dark aura emanated from the weapon, filling the air with an oppressive force.

  "It feeds on blood. The more it spills, the stronger it becomes."

  Chains shot out from the scythe, lashing toward Paradox like serpents seeking their prey.

  He blocked them with his own scythe, but she was already in motion, her weapon carving through the air with devastating precision.

  Paradox grinned. "Mind telling me your name before you keep trying to kill me?"

  "Null Lilith," she said simply, her voice cold.

  Then she was gone.

  Moving faster than sound, she closed the distance in an instant.

  Paradox barely had time to register the shift before she was upon him.

  Her scythe arced down in a brutal slash.

  Paradox twisted his body, dodging at the last second, but not before a thin line of blood appeared on his cheek.

  "Fast," he mused, wiping the blood away. "Just not fast enough."

  Before she could react, his hand shot forward, seizing her by the throat.

  With inhuman strength, he slammed her into the ground, the impact shaking the very foundation of the underground chamber.

  A crater formed beneath them.

  Then, with a powerful kick, he sent her flying once more.

  "Come on," he grinned. "Try again. Show me what you can really do."

  Lilith groaned, forcing herself to her feet. Her grip on Abyss Fang tightened.

  With a guttural roar, she drove the scythe into the ground.

  ""

  Dark tendrils erupted from the earth, wrapping around Paradox, constricting, dragging him down.

  A flicker of a smirk crossed her lips.

  ""

  Her scythe gleamed.

  With one clean motion, she swung it down—severing his head from his shoulders.

  His head hit the ground with a dull .

  Silence.

  "...That’s it?" She scoffed.

  "Null, let's go," Riven said, glancing down at the severed head. "Our mission is over."

  Lilith scoffed, slinging her scythe over her shoulder.

  "Ha! He wasn’t that tough."

  "Then why was there no blood?" Riven’s voice was calm, but firm. "And why did it feel so ?"

  Lilith’s eyes narrowed.

  A chill crawled down her spine.

  They vanished into the shadows.

  And as they did—

  Paradox’s body stirred.

  His severed head rolled slightly.

  Then—he reached out, grabbed it, and placed it back onto his shoulders.

  His smirk returned.

  "...Gone already?" He cracked his neck. "Too bad."

  His eyes flickered to the children.

  "Time to get you all home."

  But as he led them away, his thoughts drifted.

  A slow grin spread across his face.