Thousands of kilometers away from the nightmarish city of "Elysium," drowned in blood, investigations, the madness of the Samiyin, and rotting ruins... lay the city of "Zerathion."

A city of the elite, home to the wealthy who could buy clouds just to make them rain perfume.

A city that knew no poverty, and heard the screams of monsters only through comedic news broadcasts.

Winter had reached its peak in Zerathion.

Pure white snow, untouched by any pollution or chemical haze, fell slowly in a rhythmic, almost dancing pattern from the sky, covering the glass skyscrapers in a layer of cold cotton.

At the top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in the Diamond District, where a penthouse apartment larger than an entire palace was located... the scene defied the laws of logic and weather.

On the vast open balcony overlooking the snowy city, there was a large swimming pool.

Despite the temperature dropping below zero, the water had not frozen.

Instead, warm, soothing white steam rose from it, turning the balcony into a hot bath in the middle of a snowstorm.

The pool was supported by an advanced "Eitra Thermal System," precisely maintaining the water temperature at 35 degrees Celsius without margin for error.

On a floating recliner, in the middle of the warm pool, lay a young man with jet-black, wet hair.

He wore luxurious swim trunks from a global brand, and his bare chest—free of any scars thanks to Volider treatment—shone under the dim pool lights.

Over his eyes were wide, expensive black sunglasses, despite the sun not shining due to the snowy clouds.

In his right hand, he held a tall glass adorned with a slice of pineapple, a red cherry, and a small pink paper umbrella.

It was "Kyle Valtier." The Black Joker.

Kyle took a long, calm sip of the cold tropical fruit juice.

He sighed deeply in comfort, resting his head against the cushion of the floating chair, watching snowflakes fall only to melt upon touching the pool’s steam.

He was calm. Relaxed. And peaceful to a nauseating degree.

As if, just a month ago, he hadn’t betrayed an entire squad, hadn’t caused the greatest catastrophe in Elysium’s modern history, and hadn’t left his comrades to be torn apart, burned, and crushed at the bottom of a horrific slaughterhouse.

His conscience was clearer than the Eitra-filtered pool water.

"Ahhh... this is the taste of life," Kyle muttered, twirling the small paper umbrella with his finger.

"Who would’ve thought the end of the world in Elysium would give me a chance to get a good discount on booking this penthouse?"

He smirked mockingly.

His stay here cost a massive fortune daily.

The food, the pool, the royal service. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

But Kyle wasn’t worried about money. He was spending his "real" funds—liquid wealth and gold bars he had long indulged himself in stealing from citizens’ vaults and mercenary guilds over the years.

All that immense wealth, far too much to fit in any room, was safely stored in one place.

Kyle raised his left hand and looked at his index finger.

He wore a simple silver ring that didn’t look valuable on the outside. But it was a priceless treasure.

"The Dimensional Ring"... that’s what he called it.

Kyle remembered how he obtained it, and his face twisted with irritation as he took another sip of his drink.

He had bought it from that cunning old man, "Gideon," long before joining Alpha Squad.

"That damn thief..." Kyle grumbled, his tone shifting into childish irritation as he recalled Gideon’s face.

"I steal from the fiercest criminals and strip mafia bosses bare, and then that senile old man robs me! He tripled the price just because he knew I desperately needed it! What kind of merchant is that?"

Kyle swirled his glass in mild anger, spilling a few drops of juice.

"And worse than his scam is his naming sense! ’The Legendary Dimensional Ring’? Seriously? What kind of stupid name sounds like it was stolen from a cheap children’s video game? Damn that old capitalist—he doesn’t even know how to name his own goods!"

But despite his complaints, he knew the ring was worth every piece of gold he had paid.

The ring didn’t just hold his money.

It held the "Cursed Artifact" within it.

The thing he had extracted from the depths of Saint Ilarion Hospital.

The thing Aiden, Damian, and Eva had died for.

The prize that made him cooperate with the Voliders.

It rested there, in an isolated pocket dimension inside the ring, safe and hidden from all of Kaiser Dravion’s sensors.

Kyle didn’t even intend to think about its details now—just remembering it gave him a headache. Today was a day off, not a time for nightmares.

He finished his drink and casually tossed the empty glass onto the pool’s edge, where a small silent service drone immediately picked it up and cleaned the area.

"Good thing I left that old man back in Elysium," Kyle said to himself, stretching his legs in the warm water.

"Not just him—I left the entire city of Elysium to rot in its filth. Why would I stay? Why would any sane person live in a city that’s going to be destroyed and leveled anyway because of the ’Forgotten Half’?"

Kyle sighed.

He knew the truth that the Samiyin were ignorant of.

He knew the great catastrophe was inevitable.

He didn’t know when that cosmic explosion would occur, nor how it would end—but it would happen. And that reason alone was more than enough for the Joker to pack his bags and stolen goods and leave Elysium to its doomed fate.

"Let Kaiser Dravion burn with the Voliders, and let Lady Valisera devour them... if she’s still alive," Kyle said, laughing loudly as his voice echoed across the snowy balcony.

"I got what I wanted, and the game is over for me."

But... despite this complete detachment, there was one exception.

Kyle’s laughter stopped. His expression cooled, and the smile vanished beneath his dark glasses.

"Elysium... I’ll return to it one day," Kyle muttered, his voice now laced with pure venom and hatred, completely disconnected from the vacation atmosphere.

"I’ll return for one reason only. To kill Lady Grace—and every single worker at Dawn Hope Orphanage. One by one."

Dawn Hope Orphanage.

That place was everything except "hope."

Every scar in Kyle’s soul, every nightmare that made him tremble, every trace of brutality in his personality—was born there, within the cold walls of that orphanage.

He knew Grace was still alive, still running that smiling, disguised hell.

And his return would be for one purpose only:

To turn that orphanage into a slaughterhouse more horrific than Ilarion itself.