NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 12: His Fingers
Everyone in the room began to file out, missions in hand.
Only Blade stayed behind.
Only Lady Angel stopped him.
When the last suit exited, the room was silent. Just the two of them.
Blade and Angel.
He turned to her, confused.
"Do you need me, General Angel?"
She looked at him with those sharp, bright blue eyes — shifting from a gentle smile to something serious.
"Drop the act, Blade," she said flatly.
"I'm not your superior in this room. There's no one watching. No audience. No ranking. Just us."
She stepped closer.
"You can stop using that innocent, hard-working devil hunter mask now. You only put that thing on for the high-ups."
Blade's face twitched. Confused. Guarded.
Inside his head, something started to move.
Different emotions. Like different people trying to speak all at once.
Personalities. Layers. Static. Noise.
Unwelcome, unstoppable.
Angel watched him, her expression unreadable — but there was a trace of sadness in her voice.
"I see it. You're still fractured."
She tilted her head slightly.
"You chose to wear THE TEN on your fingers… and now you're dealing with the consequences."
She turned toward the glowing display on the room's holo-table and brought up the Devil Classification System.
"Let me remind you. Just so you don't forget who — or what — you're walking with."
---
The Marked
Low-tier devils. First-timers in the Trial.
Most don't last a week. Dangerous, sure, but rarely a problem.
---
The Awakened
More dangerous.
They've lasted over two months in the Trial.
At 3:00 AM, they enter a full-power state — for exactly one hour.
That's when they become killers.
One hour of blood, then silence.
---
The Ascended
These devils passed the Trial more than once.
They're refined. Stronger. Hungrier.
Every return makes them smarter… colder.
---
The Reapers
Three Trials. Or more.
They don't come back to survive — they come back to conquer.
Precise. Ruthless.
---
THE TEN
The highest tier.
The most dangerous devils humanity has ever encountered.
Each one sealed in Blackwell Prison, deep beneath the crust of the Earth.
We don't fight them. We don't test them.
We survive because they're locked away.
---
Angel turned back to him.
"You're wearing those rings like they're jewelry. But they aren't weapons — they're weights."
Blade clenched his jaw.
"I can control them. I'm the only one who can."
Angel didn't move.
"Just don't overdo it. You lose your grip, and those rings won't save you. They'll turn on you."
A pause.
"If your mind snaps again... I'll be the one to end you."
Her voice cracked. Barely. Just once.
"I can't watch you fall apart again, Blade. Hold them back. Keep them quiet."
Blade said nothing.
He turned and left the room, heavy silence in his wake.
---
Outside...
No devils in his mind. No missions clawing at his brain.
Just exhaustion — and the thought:
Go home.
But someone followed.
Footsteps. Smooth. Steady.
Michael.
He didn't rush. Didn't need to.
A shadow that moved like a man. Or maybe the other way around.
Blade didn't stop. Just turned his shoulder, tense.
Michael smirked.
"So," he said, "ready to meet your new cleaner?"
Blade didn't turn.
"Did he pass the test?"
"Nope." Michael sounded amused. "But he fits you. Like blood and steel."
Blade frowned. "Is he from a clan?"
"No. No bloodline. No legacy. Just... normal."
Blade finally stopped walking.
"No test. No bloodline. Why the hell did you choose him?"
Michael's smirk widened like a cut.
"Because he fits," he said simply. "And I choose my cleaners."
He stepped past Blade like smoke.
"Two days," he said over his shoulder. "He'll be ready. So you better be."
Blade didn't answer.
Didn't follow.
Just muttered under his breath:
"If he's not… I'll use you as my cleaner dog."
---
Elsewhere...
Michael stepped into the sun.
Pulled out his phone.
"This is Michael," he said. "Tell the red-haired kid to be ready. His orders are here."