S.H.I.E.L.D.
Triskelion
Bang!
“Motherfucker!”
The moment Nick Fury heard that Phil Coulson had been seriously injured, he slammed his fist onto his desk, sending a $3,000 coffee mug crashing to the floor.
Without wasting another second, he strode toward the medical ward.
As soon as he entered the room, he saw Coulson lying motionless on the hospital bed.
His entire body was wrapped in bandages like a mummy, with only his eyes visible.
“How are you feeling?”
Seeing that Coulson was still alive, Fury let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Although he was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury had very few people he truly trusted.
Above him sat the World Security Council, constantly watching his every move, while below him were countless agents—many of whom secretly answered to other organizations.
Among the few people he considered completely trustworthy, Coulson was one of them.
If he had lost Coulson on this mission, it would have been a devastating blow.
“I’m alright…
Director,” Coulson replied hoarsely.
“Just a few broken bones.
Unfortunately…
the mission failed.”
“A few broken bones?” Fury repeated, his expression darkening.
“The mission doesn’t matter,” he said firmly.
“The important thing is that you’re alive.
We can always try again.”
Coulson made it sound insignificant, but Fury had already read the medical report on his way here.
The report was horrifying.
More than half of Coulson’s skeleton had been fractured after suffering overwhelming external pressure.
Several broken ribs had pierced his internal organs, causing severe internal injuries.
Under normal circumstances, someone with injuries like these should have died from massive internal bleeding long before medical help arrived.
And yet…
Coulson had survived.
According to the doctors, some mysterious force had somehow protected his damaged organs while slowly repairing the injured tissue, keeping him alive until rescue teams reached him.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
With modern science and medicine, there was simply no explanation.
Fury couldn’t help but suspect that Coulson’s survival had something to do with the mysterious being known only as the God of Death.
“Get some rest,” Fury said before leaving.
“I’ll assign someone else to continue the investigation.”
Back in his office, Fury picked up the mission report Coulson had submitted before losing consciousness.
He read every word carefully.
Classification: Top Secret – Level 8
Codename: God of Death
Gender: Male
Estimated Age: 25–30
Appearance: Short silver hair, blue eyes, East Asian descent.
(Attached: hand-drawn sketch.)
Personality: Calm and polite on the surface, but extremely arrogant beneath it.
Displays little regard for ordinary humans.
Known Abilities:
-Uses a mysterious power called Kidō, activated by chanting specific incantations.
.Two binding spells.
.One offensive spell.
Threat Assessment:
Although the target appears human, he must never be treated as one.
Anyone attempting to approach or question him should remain respectful and avoid provoking him unnecessarily.
Appendix 1:
Whenever the conversation turned to the subject of Hollows, the target displayed visible anger and even a hint of panic before dismissing the incident as “just an accident.”
Appendix 2:
The creature designated Hollow – Gillian can grow over one hundred meters tall and possesses destructive power comparable to heavy military weaponry.
It is capable of firing devastating energy blasts from its mouth.
The entity was eliminated by the God of Death using an unknown technique.
It was obvious why Coulson had earned Fury’s complete trust.
His loyalty was unquestionable, but more importantly, his observational skills were among the best in S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury slowly closed the report.
After several moments of silence, he picked up the phone.
“Contact Natasha.”
“Tell her to wrap up her current assignment and return immediately.”
“I have a mission only she can handle.”
[Seirei Department Store]
Three days earlier, Lorde had finally hung a sign outside the shop.
Seirei Department Store.
After returning, he didn’t head upstairs to rest.
Instead, he walked directly into the old storage room behind the shop.
The warehouse was small, barely ten square meters, and looked as though it hadn’t been renovated in decades.
The wooden floor creaked with every step, so Lorde rarely used it for storage.
He stopped in the center of the room, knelt down, and lifted a loose floorboard.
Beneath it was a deep vertical shaft.
Without hesitation, Lorde jumped.
He continued falling for several dozen seconds before his surroundings suddenly opened into an enormous underground world.
Rolling rock formations stretched into the distance.
Lush vegetation covered the landscape, while a steaming hot spring filled the air with mist.
The scenery was breathtaking—beautiful enough to rival a famous tourist destination.
This was the reward Lorde had drawn from the system:
Kisuke Urahara’s Training Ground.
In the original Soul Society, this was the place where Yoruichi Shihōin trained Kurosaki Ichigo to achieve Bankai.
Lorde admired the scenery for only a brief moment before disappearing in a flash using Shunpo.
Moments later, he arrived before an enormous cave.
The opening measured roughly five meters across and plunged nearly one hundred meters straight into the earth.
Its walls were perfectly smooth, making escape impossible.
From somewhere deep below came faint, agonizing cries.
“Someone…”
“Help…”
“Please…
don’t…”
Without a word, Lorde stepped forward and leapt into the darkness.
The bottom of the cave was engulfed in absolute darkness. New chapters come out on g.com first.
No light.
No sound.
Nothing but endless silence.
For an ordinary person, remaining here for long would be enough to drive them insane.
But Lorde, now a Soul Reaper, saw everything as clearly as if it were daylight.
Lying on the ground was a blond young man whose hands and feet were tightly bound.
He looked more like a corpse than a living person.
A broken chain protruded from the center of his chest.
It was the Chain of Fate.
While a person lived, this chain connected the soul to the physical body.
After death, it naturally disappeared.
However, if it was forcibly severed, the soul would gradually be consumed by a phenomenon known as Encroachment.
Eventually, only two fates remained.
The soul would either become a Soul Reaper…
Or transform into a Hollow.
“Help…”
The blond man looked up at Lorde.
For an instant, resentment flashed across his face.
Then it vanished, replaced by overwhelming terror.
His name was Morrison.
He had once been the leader of the Dragon Gang, the same criminal organization Lorde had wiped out.
Drug trafficking.
Murder.
Robbery.
Extortion.
There wasn’t a crime Morrison hadn’t committed.
After his death, just like every other member of the Dragon Gang, Lorde had torn his soul from his body, severed his Chain of Fate, and imprisoned him within this place—
The Abyss of Despair.
Any soul trapped here would eventually succumb to despair and transform into a Hollow.
The Gillian Lorde had destroyed earlier had been born in this very pit.
It was a grotesque creature created after hundreds of corrupted souls descended into madness, slaughtered one another, and devoured the losers until only one remained.
“I…
I beg you…”
Morrison collapsed onto his knees, tears streaming down his face as he desperately pleaded.
“I don’t want to become one of those monsters!”
“Please…”
“I’m begging you…”
“Save me!”
Lorde looked down at him without emotion.
He was capable of showing compassion.
But people like Morrison had long since forfeited any right to receive it.
In Lorde’s eyes, men like him had spent their lives as parasites upon society.
If they had no value in life…
Then they could at least serve a purpose after death.
Every human possessed value.
To Lorde…
The value of scum like Morrison was simple.
They made excellent test subjects.