When the city loses its mind, someone always steps up to rule the ruins. Tonight, Nocturne bows to a king made of lies, madness, and rupture energy.
Nocturne City — The Sky Splits Open
The city had seen many things—massacres, riots, demonic incursions, even that one time a sentient AI tried to marry a skyscraper.
But this? This was new.
Above the smoldering wreckage of District 7, the sky cracked like brittle glass. Fractures spiraled outward in shimmering gold, bleeding rupture energy in thick, liquid beams. Every head on the battlefield—gangs, demons, corporate troopers—snapped upward.
And then he descended.
A figure, half divine, half nightmare. Floating as if weightless, trailing shimmering shards of fractured sky. His face was human—sort of. Pale, sharp-boned, split with an enormous, jagged grin. A crown of barbed wire and ruptured neon tubing dug into his scalp, bloodless but gleaming. His body was cracked all over, like fine porcelain about to shatter, pulsing golden light through every fissure.
When he spoke, the world shuddered:
"I AM THE KING OF THE CRACKS! THE CITY IS MINE!"
From the alleyways, sewer grates, and broken subway lines, his followers surged—hundreds of them, faces glowing with madness, eyes glassy from overdose on rupture dust. They chanted in time with their king's rise, clawing at the ground and at each other in raw ecstasy.
The Carnival of Chaos had just crowned its monarch.
------------------------------------------
Asher's Reaction (Deadpan but Angry)
Asher Blackwood didn't flinch.
Shotgun resting across his shoulder, his right eye—a burning golden ember since last night's disaster—twitched in irritation.
He let out a long, bitter breath.
"...Of course. A rupture cult king. Because this night wasn't stupid enough already."
Beside him, Rosa wiped blood from her split lip, still panting from their last firefight. Despite it all, she flashed a crooked grin.
"Hey, at least now you know who to punch first."
Asher smirked grimly, jamming new shells into his shotgun.
"Oh, I'm gonna punch all of them. But he's first."
-----------------------------
Up above, the cybernetic DAWN operative leaned over the edge of her hovercraft, her expression ice cold but her eyes wide with panic.
"This wasn't in the damn projections," she snapped, fist slamming the comm console.
Her superior's voice barked through the earpiece:"New directive: Kill Blackwood. Neutralize the King. Contain the rupture. No survivors in Zone 7."
"Copy," the operative hissed. She turned to her troops.
"Lock and load. We're burning this nightmare down."
But as the enforcers rappelled from the craft, the rupture cult hit them like a tidal wave.
Screaming, spell-shredded fanatics hurled themselves at the soldiers with zero self-preservation, warping the ground beneath them with corrupted glyphs and warped magic. The frontline disintegrated in minutes.
----------------------------------------
Slice of Life Chaos — "Nocturne's Reaction"
Elsewhere in Nocturne:
At a tiny ramen stand, the owner flipped noodles in perfect rhythm, oblivious to the gunfire a block away.
"Same crap, different day," he muttered, adding an egg to the broth.
Down the block, a gang of succubi in neon rave gear commandeered a boom truck, pumping rupture energy into the sound system and turning the firefight into a glow rave. Pink smoke and hard bass thundered through the alleys.
A cranky AI taxi refused to evacuate passengers, its holographic eyes narrowed.
"I wish to experience authentic urban chaos," it declared, locking the doors.
Nocturne's freaks and citizens? Totally desensitized. But even they whispered under their breath:This is next-level stupid.
------------------------------------------
Asher stared up at the laughing rupture king, the glow in his own golden eye pulsing.
"Enough."
He racked his shotgun with a sharp click, turning to Rosa.
"Call Noir. Call that crazy exorcist. Hell, find those damn succubi warlords. Anyone who owes us, anyone who's dumb enough to fight back."
Rosa blinked in disbelief.
"You're… unionizing the freaks?"
"Exactly." Asher's grin was sharp. "Better the monsters we know than that fake god up there."
Rosa's eyes sparkled with a wild mix of fear and respect.
"You're out of your damn mind."
"Welcome to Nocturne."
The rupture king raised both arms high, golden light spiraling around his cracked form. The city groaned as buildings shifted, windows warped, streets split into spirals and impossible angles.
"EVERY CRACK IS A DOORWAY!" he roared."EVERY DOORWAY LEADS TO ME!"
His cultists began to fuse with the structures, bodies melting into the walls, turning into twisted, living architecture—golden veins spreading like infection across the skyline.
The city was becoming his throne room.
The tension snapped.
Asher stepped forward, shotgun blazing. A rupture cultist exploded in golden mist, body disintegrating mid-scream.
"First rule of Nocturne…" Asher muttered, reloading in one smooth motion."Never let anyone else throw the party."
Rosa's spell sigils erupted with violet fire, tearing through cult ranks. Overhead, Noir's mercenary bots—sleek, spider-legged death machines—hacked the hovercrafts mid-air, turning them into flaming wrecks.
Succubi warlords, drawn by the madness and promises of violence, raised their banners—**neon pink and hellish black—**and charged in on demon bikes, guns blazing.
Nocturne was answering back.
Its true nature—chaotic, dirty, alive—was rising up to rip its stolen crown back.
High above it all, the rupture king arched his back and laughed, his body cracking wider, veins of gold splitting across his face until he looked barely human.
"COME THEN, LITTLE DETECTIVE," he bellowed, eyes like molten stars."LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN HANDLE YOUR OWN CITY."
Asher, shotgun cocked, golden eye burning, sneered.
"Watch me, crown-boy."
[End of Chapter 65]
----------------------------------------------
Preview of Next Chapter (66) — "The Misfit Alliance"
Asher's call goes out across Nocturne: every freak, gang, hacker, and demon willing to fight is summoned to form an unlikely army. The final battle for the city's soul begins—but with chaos this deep, even alliances come with betrayal, backstabbing, and unexpected twists. Will Nocturne's true misfits stand together, or will the city eat itself alive?