Chapter Title: Coin of Conquest
The Egyptian sky turned a shade of silver.
High above the city, the sun's golden rays bounced off a single, massive, floating silver coin—shimmering like a celestial plate drifting through the heavens. Atop it stood a man—his presence regal, his posture commanding. Draped in a military coat adorned with brass buttons and tattered red lining, he bore a curved saber on his hip and a tricorne hat tipped slightly forward, shadowing a pair of calculating, ruthless eyes.
Napoleon Bonaparte.
He pulled a tiny silver coin from within his sleeve polished, flawless, a perfect circle of death.
"I never enter battle without a toss," he said, voice soft yet thunderous in the wind. "For if it's heads… I dominate. And victory is mine."
With a flick of his thumb, the coin shot upward—flick-flick-flick—spinning through the sky, flipping with hypnotic rhythm as the light caught its every surface. It danced above the floating coin like fate itself was being decided mid-air. His fingers snatched it from its descent, and with a slow dramatic flair, he opened his palm.
A smile curved his lips.
"Heads. Victory it is."
Meanwhile, crouched like a predator upon the edge of a high-rise building, Knight Óðr pressed his palms flat against the rooftop. His posture mimicked that of a tiger preparing to pounce, muscles coiled tight with precision and purpose. The faint wind whispered past his stitched white mask and teal hair, fluttering the feathers that curled from his shoulders like battle banners.
Beside him, his loyal regent Cain, with six clawed arms and a tense expression, spoke out in concern.
"Sir Óðr… why are you going into this alone? I'm supposed to fight by your side."
Knight Óðr didn't flinch. His voice came low, gravelly.
"That man—" he nodded toward the silver glint in the distance—"is as strong as Sir Varion I would say . SUHA has gravely underestimated The Ten's willingness to deploy their strongest to obtain that Piece."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Napoleon, in 1789, wasn't just the general of Italy… he ruled it. Ruthless. Conqueror. A man who nearly swallowed the world whole. That's all I know. His official profile? Blank."
Cain's face twitched. "Blank?"
"When SUHA erases your record, that means you're not a threat… you're a damn catastrophe. Cain… I won't risk your life here."
Cain clenched his fists. "Then how did SUHA capture someone like him?"
Knight Óðr stared forward.
"That's the wrong question. The real one is… what did Arcade do to bend him under his will? Everything… started with Arcade."
Suddenly—
"Pièce d'argent Sniper."
The words slithered from Napoleon's lips far in the distance.
FWOOOOOM!!!
The air ripped open. A tiny silver coin blasted through the atmosphere like a meteor. It didn't whistle. It screamed.
"Cain—DODGE!!" Óðr shouted.
But it was too late.
Cain turned—eyes wide—just in time to see the glint.
SPLAAASH!!!
The coin expanded instantly into a gigantic silver disc the size of a truck, and it obliterated Cain's head, taking with it bone, muscle, and everything above the shoulders.
BOOOOM!!
The impact destroyed the entire rooftop, sending concrete and twisted rebar flying like shrapnel. Crows exploded into the air in a flurry of black feathers.
Óðr had dissolved into birds just in time, but pain seared across his shoulder. His body reformed on a nearby rooftop, panting, blood dripping from his arm.
"I dodged that… so how—?"
He looked over his shoulder.
He'd been hit.
Not by force.
But by inevitability.
Inside the Egypt Hunter Association Security Room, alarms blared.
On a large screen, the floating coin hovered like a divine punishment.
President Anzeyt, clad in a green robe adorned with ancient hieroglyphs, narrowed his eyes.
"Napoleon Bonaparte has arrived."
He pressed the mic to his lips.
"SUHA… Cain is dead. Brutally eliminated."
"Abort," a voice snapped through the transmission. "Get the piece and flee the country. Now. That's an order!"
"I didn't expect them to release one of the Titans of History this soon," another voice muttered.
But Anzeyt cut the feed.
"I will not flee. I will defend my country."
"Dammit, they never listen," Minister Tenzy's voice screamed as the signal dropped.
Anzeyt turned to his assistant—Osiris, a tall young man with calm eyes and a subtle glow of Shen around him.
"If I fall, you take command. From this moment, I name you the Ruler of the Egyptian Hunter Association."
All officers in the room stood and saluted.
"Long live Egypt."
Back outside, the skies had turned black with circling crows.
Knight Óðr stood firm.
"I can't defeat him… but I'll fight with everything I've got."
The crows dived in, forming a swirling vortex around Napoleon.
"Hmm?" Napoleon tilted his head, gaze tracking the unnatural storm. "What is this?"
He raised his hand.
Three silver coins manifested above his palm—hovering, spinning like orbiting moons.
With a snap of his fingers, the coins exploded outward, shredding the crow vortex in a single dazzling flash.
But the moment his vision cleared—
SWOOSH!
Knight Óðr was already in front of him, hand mid-swing.
From his palm erupted a black spear shaped like a raven's beak, sharpened to a hellish point.
Napoleon didn't blink. One of the coins on his palm expanded but it was too late.
THWACK!
The spear pierced his left shoulder, sending him flying from his floating coin.
But—
SHIIIING!
The massive coin beneath Napoleon moved like lightning, sliding beneath his feet just before he could fall too far.
His boots met its surface, and his stance re-stabilized with terrifying grace.
Knight Óðr landed across from him, chest heaving.
"The only way to fight him… is up close," he muttered. "From a distance, his coins control everything."
Suddenly—
FWOOOOOSH!
A massive gust of wind slammed the ground as a green figure descended in a flash beside Knight Óðr.
President Anzeyt.
He cracked his knuckles, Shen aura spiraling around his body like ancient sandstorms.
"You're right," he said. "Let's try that theory… and put it to the test."
Meanwhile.
Seoul.
Inside the ravaged underground Hunter Facility, broken walls crackled with sparks. Blood stained the floor. Mujin knelt, holding Thomas' limp body, hands trembling.
Nearby—Frozen, Daisuke, and a young Seoul soldier… all lay dead.
The stench of burnt flesh and iron filled the air.
Suddenly—
Footsteps.
Kazuki stepped inside, panting, eyes scanning the carnage.
His gaze met Mujin's—and before a word was spoken—
SHING!
Mujin unsheathed a blade and pointed it towards Kazuki's throat, eyes bloodshot.
"Are you… Sparta?"
To be continued.