"The Flexible Villain."

  Markus didn't bother responding to Aryan’s insults. He simply stood up, the glass floor rippling beneath his boots.

  Amara cut through the tension. "What do you know about the cure? Let's get to the point. Forget the history and the Seals for now. Where? How? How fast? That is all that matters."

  "Good. Pragmatism suits you," Markus said.

  He lifted his hand, fingers tracing an intricate arc in the air.

  "I will upload the Forbidden Arts directly into your Systems. You don't have time for lectures. Whenever you encounter a hurdle, your Systems will instruct you as if I were there myself."

  As he spoke, the air around the siblings distorted. Beads of sweat from their foreheads, the faint aura of leaking Dark Matter, and two drops of blood from each of their wounds floated into the air. Markus mixed them with their exhaled breath, weaving the biological material into a shimmering, rainbow-colored archway.

  "When I said this was 'interesting,' I meant it," Markus said, admiring his handiwork. "Only a high-level entity like myself could utilize your own biological waste to bridge the gap to your cure. You just need to pass through this portal. That is it. You will arrive."

  He turned to them, his expression hardening.

  "But there is a price you must pay. Non-negotiable."

  "This again," Aryan groaned, rubbing his temples. "How can you be such a persistent villain?"

  "What is it?" Amara demanded, eyeing the swirling portal. "Cut to the chase. We have no other option. You clearly don't plan on letting us negotiate."

  "Good," Markus smiled, a sharp, dangerous expression. "I am a flexible Villain."

  He held his hand in the empty air. Golden particles coalesced, forming a sheet of parchment that glowed with binding magic. He floated it toward them.

  "Sign this."

  Aryan grabbed the paper and read it aloud, his voice growing tighter with every word.

  "SOUL CONTRACT."

  "I, Aryan, and I, Amara, hereby vow that in any timeline, under any circumstance, we shall never take the life of Monarch Markus. In exchange, Monarch Markus grants us passage to the location of the Cure for the 44-Day Ultimatum."

  Aryan clenched his jaw, staring at the Monarch.

  "By now, I have no words left," Aryan spat. "Monarch, this is practically a death warrant. You are ensuring your safety because you know what you are doing to us is unforgivable."

  "You say we can't kill you?" Amara asked, her eyes narrowing. "How come? You act as if you fear no one. Why do you need a piece of paper to protect you from two dying 'weaklings'?"

  "I told you, I am flexible," Markus shrugged. "I won't bore you with my philosophy. You will understand why I need this insurance once you reach your destination."

  He pointed to the line at the bottom.

  "Now sign. No negotiations. Or you can simply stay here and die."

  Aryan and Amara looked at each other. Their bodies were screaming in pain, their legs trembling, but they stood up, supporting each other’s weight. They looked like a single, battered entity.

  They turned to Markus, matching his gaze with equal intensity.

  "Let us add one clause," they said in unison.

  Markus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  "If you ever decide to kill us," Aryan said coldly.

  "Don't leave one of us intact," Amara finished.

  "Because if you leave one of us alive," they said together, "we won't mind becoming Hell itself to drag you down with us."

  Markus stared at them for a second. Then, he threw his head back and laughed.

  "HAHAHAHA!"

  The sound reverberated through the Glass Palace, shaking the walls. If he hadn't dismissed the powerless staff earlier, the sheer sonic resonance would have killed them.

  "Interesting! As you like it!" Markus swiped his finger, adding their clause to the golden paper. "Signed and sealed."

  The contract dissolved into light, entering their chests. The deal was struck.

  "But..." Markus raised one finger, his smile turning cruel. "There is one final toll to pay."

  He pointed at the rainbow portal.

  "Teleportation across this distance taxes the body. As soon as you step into it... you will lose 3 days of your life expectancy."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A bomb dropped on them. 44 days just became 41.

  Amara and Aryan clenched their fists, their nails biting into their skin. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was Markus.

  "It is much better than not knowing anything," Aryan said through gritted teeth. "You said we will reach the destination perfectly, right?"

  "Indeed," Markus confirmed.

  "That is good then," Aryan said, gripping Amara’s hand tighter. "Something is better than nothing."

  Amara nodded.

  "The Unwanted Escort."

  They both stepped toward the shimmering rainbow portal, ready to accept the cost.

  "Wait."

  The voice cut through the air. It belonged to Hunter Eight.

  Aryan and Amara turned their gaze toward the source of the sound. It wasn't just Hunter Eight standing there. Emerging from the periphery of the vast hall were the others. Seven more figures.

  The entire squad was present.

  Aryan looked from the eight elites to the Monarch. "What does this mean?"

  "They will come with you," Markus said simply.

  Amara raised an eyebrow, her expression sharpening.

  "We already signed the deal," Aryan said, his voice hard. "What is this now? Changing the terms?"

  "This isn't for me," Markus replied, his tone dismissive of their suspicion. "It is for all of you. The place you will be going to now... no one has any idea what lies inside. It is uncharted."

  He looked at the dying duo.

  "You don't have years to finish this. And I need to get the most out of my investment. I will not have you dying in a trap before you even reach the cure."

  He turned away, his cape swirling as he prepared to vanish.

  "Your mission and the particulars... you will know soon enough. Be careful. Don't die and make my investment unworthy."

  Markus’s figure began to blur, dissolving into the air. His final command echoed through the empty space.

  "You have one hour to depart."

  That was it. He was gone, leaving no trace behind, vanishing as if he had never been there at all.

  The Party of Twenty

  Amara and Aryan, Sam and Nine, plus the Eight Siblings and their respective Systems. A total of twenty entities stared at the swirling rainbow portal before them.

  "So, a total of twenty people, huh," Aryan said in his mind. Thanks to the Soul Connection, the thought echoed clearly to the other three in his circle.

  "Ah. That is only ten physical people," Nine corrected him calmly.

  "Of course, only ten physical people can be seen since the Systems reside within their System Spaces," Sam chimed in, pacing back and forth in his digital avatar. "But if Markus can see us... that implies these Eight Hunter Siblings have absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Even this Great Sam doesn't intervene that much."

  Amara ignored the System chatter and turned toward the Eight Siblings.

  "Markus must have ordered you to pack food," she stated, not asking.

  "He did," Hunter Seven replied, his voice neutral. "We are bringing supplies. You are free to pack extra if you wish."

  "Good," Amara nodded. "Then let us meet here in half an hour. We depart then."

  She turned on her heel, and Aryan followed her back to their temporary quarters.

  Inside Aryan's room, the heavy door slid shut, sealing them in silence.

  Aryan slumped onto the edge of the bed.

  "Things are getting crazy, guys," he muttered, massaging his sweaty palms on his knees. "I have no idea what is going on anymore. I feel like... like a character in a script. I keep feeling it. Like someone else is writing this chaos. But the only good thing is that we haven't died yet."

  He looked up at the ceiling.

  "And seriously, these Villains—whoever they are—at least seem reasonable. Do we need to know anything or prepare beforehand? It is total chaos. We have no way to even talk properly without being watched."

  "Just stick together," Sam advised, sitting in the digital glass chair he had conjured earlier. "Tie each other’s hands like Markus did. If you don't physically stick together, you will trip before you even start."

  "Pack tons of dry food on your own," Nine added, walking slowly to the chair beside Sam. "Our System Space is vastly larger now. Thanks to the Greed Vessel, it received an upgrade. Almost a continent can fit in it. You will have a problem unless wherever we are heading is a place where nothing from the outside works."

  "Just hope that isn't the case," Sam muttered, looking grim.

  "All right," Aryan sighed, standing up and shaking out his limbs. "Nothing gets solved if we just talk and talk. Just relax for a few minutes. Then we head there."

  "Look who is talking," Sam teased. "You were the one who started rambling about the confusion."

  "Oh, well. We are all nervous," Aryan admitted. He paused, squinting at the golden avatar in his mind. "AI... do you keep evolving, Sam? Your data is transferring high and low-frequency signals. It makes you look and feel like a physical being who has emotions."

  Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well. It is all complex. Let us stop here. We are all nervous. Forget about biology for now."

  Amara stood up, her face set in determination.

  "Let us go."

  They both walked out of the room, their packs secured. When they reached the main hall, the Eight Siblings were already standing there, silent and ready.

  They were punctual.

  The Vanguard

  Amara stepped toward the swirling rainbow portal, ready to pay the price.

  Just then, Aryan grabbed her arm lightly, halting her momentum. He turned his gaze toward the Eight Siblings standing in formation.

  "Um... let them try first, Sister," Aryan said, his voice polite but firm. "Please, enter first for us. Since Markus explicitly said you are here for our protection..."

  He turned back to Amara, his expression serious. "We should utilize the 'investment' fully, Sister. A shield goes before the body, not behind it."

  Hearing Aryan, her brother, express this kind of sharp, calculating protectiveness for the first time, a faint, rare smile cracked Amara’s stoic mask. She nodded.

  "Please do," she said to the Hunters, stepping aside to clear the path.

  Hunter Eight, the oldest sibling, instinctively stepped forward to obey the command.

  "Hold."

  Hunter Two, the pragmatist of the group, threw out an arm to stop her. He looked at his siblings with hard eyes.

  "We stick together," Hunter Two commanded. "We are a unit. We go all or none. We don't send scouts into an unknown dimensional tear to die alone."

  Hunter Eight placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Brother. Just a check."

  "No, Sis," Hunter One interjected, stepping up beside Two. "Brother Two is right. If it's a trap, we face it as a squad. We do it together."

  The siblings hesitated, the bond between them clearly tighter than any loyalty to Aryan and Amara.

  "We will do it like this," Hunter Seven proposed, looking between his siblings and the Aryan-Amara duo. "We will go near the portal to inspect the stability, but we do not have to cross it yet. You just want to check safety, not force us to go first, right?"

  "Indeed. That will do," Aryan agreed. "Once we confirm it is stable, we will hold each other's shoulders and move at the same time into the portal. Safety in numbers."

  "Good. We are clear now," Hunter Seven nodded.

  "I'll check," Brother Six said suddenly.

  Before anyone could argue, he stepped out of the formation.

  "Wait, let me do this—no, I'm doing this," Six muttered, his patience snapping at the debate.

  Without waiting for a vote or a command, Brother Six launched himself to the rainbow colored portal which looked more like a black hole than a bus to the next destination. He was a blur of motion, dodging past Hunter Two’s outstretched hand and diving straight into the rainbow-colored vortex.

  ZWOOP.

  He vanished instantly.

  The remaining nineteen entities—physical and digital—froze, staring at the rippling surface where Brother Six had just disappeared, waiting for a scream, a signal, or silence.