Steps 25: The Apocalypse’s First…
Steps As Nyx stepped back out alone to face her race against death itself, back on Earth, merely a few hours had passed since Neon had split from Atlas.
He walked the sidewalk with an oddly unhurried calm, both hands tucked into his pockets, retracing the same route they had taken toward the capital only days before.
The streets still carried the uneven quiet of a world that had not yet decided what it intended to become.
Neon’s red eyes moved without haste from one alley mouth to the next, lingering on shadowed doorways, cracked storefronts, and the occasional shattered window where looters had already come and gone.
“Where are…
you?” he muttered, not aimlessly wandering but with a specific figure in mind.
After a long, quiet search, he arrived at a heavily fortified building that had once been the treasury for noble funds.
The massive doors stood wide open, and inside, chaos had already taken hold.
Countless bills floated lazily through the air like leaves before coming to rest on the polished marble floors.
All while men and women scrambled in a frenzy, cramming handfuls of cash into sacks, stuffing it into their jackets, and even tucking it down the fronts of their shirts.
“Grab the gold crates first, you idiot…
let them have that useless paper!” “There’s more in the back vault, I saw it!” “Shut up and fill the bag before someone stronger shows up!” As people took from every noble in Arden…
Neon stepped across the threshold and paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the frenzy.
“I’m sure that bastard is here somewhere,” he thought, knowing full well he wasn’t there to stop anyone from looting.
In truth, he couldn’t care less about the fortunes of these nobles—he was certain that, soon enough, none of it would matter anyway.
He’d come here for one reason only: to take another step down the dark path toward power.
He had already resolved himself to accept that killing was simply something he would have to do in this strange new world.
Even so, accepting it didn’t mean he could change his feelings overnight.
It was something he knew he’d wrestle with, but also something he believed he could overcome only by doing it.
He needed to kill more—to stain his hands so deeply with blood that the act itself would one day feel as natural to him as eating.
Before he could finish the thought, the figure he had been hunting for emerged from the crowd, both hands weighed down by bulging bags of cash, a stuffed backpack hanging carelessly off one shoulder.
It was the same chubby man they had fought with on the street days ago—clothes still rumpled, that same smug curl to his lips—striding toward the exit with the air of someone who owned the entire treasury.
“Bastard…” Neon muttered as a faint smile appeared on his face.
“There you are.” Neon stood squarely in the doorway, and the man recognized him instantly—not because of any intimidating aura, but because of his unmistakable appearance.
The short, messy white hair, skin so pale it seemed to emit its own faint glow even in the world’s darkness, and those striking bright red eyes that hinted at secrets beyond anyone’s understanding made him impossible to forget.
The man let out a low chuckle, striding forward without a hint of hesitation.
“Boy… last time, you and your little friend caught me off guard, I’ll give you that,” he said, narrowing the gap between them.
“But this time, pretty boy… do yourself a favor and scram, because I won’t be going easy.” At his words, Neon remained silent.
As mentioned before, he had come here with one intention in mind, so in the next moment, he activated an ability.
[Child of Dark (Mythic)] HUMMMMM!!!!!!
Instantly, the darkness inside the treasury surged together and shaped itself into a massive hand.
It clamped around the chubby man with such force that it crushed his arms, legs, and every rib in his body.
It hoisted him off the floor and carried him effortlessly through the open doors, while Neon trailed behind at the same relaxed pace, his hands still tucked in his pockets.
—- Once they were out in the open street, Neon eyed the writhing figure suspended in the shifting grip of shadow.
His tone shifted, becoming sharp and icy.
“If I’m going to get used to killing,” he said calmly, “then why not start with the idiot who thought it was a good idea to lust after my mother?” The man’s previous arrogance had already vanished completely, replaced by the bubbling shock he was already feeling.
“Wait…
wait!” he stammered, his voice cracking as he began to collapse in on himself.
“I swe…ar!
Ple…ase, let me go!” Neon watched him struggle, her gaze cold and unflinching, though her heart felt unbearably heavy.
Neon watched him struggle, his gaze cold and unflinching, though his heart felt unbearably heavy.
The pleas came in broken pieces, and the longer they went on, the quieter they grew…
Almost like the words were being stretched thin, until all that was left was a faint, dull sound pressing against a door Neon was already starting to shut.
And as that door continued to close, without giving it much thought, he triggered his Path Manifestation almost on reflex.
[Path Manifestation: The Empty Throne] HUMMMMM!!!!
In that moment, his red eyes darkened until they were almost pools of blood.
Behind him, a throne of pitch-black void took shape without ceremony, a seat that belonged to absence more than royalty, and the moment it settled into the air, everything in the immediate hundred kilometers faltered.
CRUNCHHH!!!!
SPLATTTT!!!!
The moment the throne appeared, the dark fist clenched tight.
There was a single, resounding final sound as the body stopped being a body, transforming into nothing but blood that slid and dripped through the shadowy fingers, which no longer had any need to grasp onto anything at all.
Neon did not pause; instead, he turned away and walked steadily into the distance, his heartbeat thundering in his chest with an intensity that bordered on pain, while his eyes told a different tale.
[+2 Authority]