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While Danme was being detained, outside, a man was summoned by the Berserkers. He was tall, drawing all attention as he took a drag from his cigarette—just the kind of guy who gave off an "I don't give a damn" vibe—while blowing smoke into the harsh air of Berserk City. His boots hit the metal floor with heavy thuds. He adjusted his long black overcoat, which dragged along the ground. He casually tugged at his dark red tie, adorned with the number 4 on the wings of a butterfly—a striking contrast to his dark cotton shirt. From the pocket of his loose black pants, he pulled out a lighter to light another cigarette. As he lit it, he tilted his head slightly, revealing several spiral tattoos running down his neck. Holding the cigarette butt between his fingers, two hollow circles were visible on his hands, along with more spiraling lines running up his arm.— So, those bastards called the great Gravedigger?He flashed an arrogant smile as the wind tousled his red hair, the shorter sides forming a modern mullet. The faint glow of moonlight reflected off his eyebrow piercing, while his dark rings dimmed the light. With a tap, he turned off his headphones and faced Viccg, who stood waiting with her arms crossed.— You're 20 minutes late, — Viccg said sharply.— Well, you know how it is. An Gravedigger’s life is way tougher than you government lapdogs’ lives. — He blew smoke in Viccg's face, showing no respect whatsoever.Viccg stared deeply into the Undertaker’s sharp, shadowy features, marked by two black lines running from his eyebrow to his eye bags on the left side.— I expected the Undertakers to send someone more competent and serious, not a slacker like you.— Aww, that hurt… — The man feigned sadness, pouting mockingly. — Look, I’m not here to argue. What do you want?Viccg adjusted her glasses, rolling her eyes, her straight eyebrows showing just how serious the moment was, as she fixed her white ponytail. — You already know that Star fell, right?— Yeah, it’s pretty much impossible not to know. The whole of Neorizon has been bombarded with the news.— Our troops finally arrived there to investigate, but nothing was found. No clues, no reason why or how Star fell.— That’s pretty frustrating, huh? Your so-called elite squad couldn’t find any info? — He took a drag of his cigarette, smirking as he savored the smoke entering his lungs.— Don’t underestimate us. We found a survivor.The Undertaker suddenly coughed in surprise, his arrogance shaken for a moment. — Huh? So you’re not completely useless after all. How did anyone survive that?For the first time, Viccg smiled. — That’s exactly what we asked ourselves. But here’s the best part: the survivor had this. — She held up the necklace that Niik had given Danme.— A necklace... with a cross? So, he’s a religious guy, huh? — He sucked in more smoke, mocking the entire situation.— It’s not just some “necklace with a cross.” This is a Receptacle.As soon as Viccg uttered those words, the man’s eyes widened, and he suddenly seemed to take the situation seriously, even adjusting his previously relaxed posture. He extended his hand to take the necklace.— Let me see that.Viccg brought the object in her palm closer to him. As soon as he touched the cold metal, something strange happened. He felt a devastating energy around him—dark, obscure, and freezing cold, as if the Angel of Death was watching him from behind. When the energy faded, he was slightly out of breath, slowly calming himself, though faint laughter echoed from his voice.— Haa… You really are a bunch of assholes. To deal with a Sinner, you need another Sinner, huh?— For an airhead, you’re surprisingly sharp right now.— Hmm, hmm… — He cracked his neck. — Don’t worry, ladies, leave it to Sairu, Ryū Sairu. — He pulled the corner of his mouth with his finger, sticking out his tongue, which bore two pairs of tattooed circles.In Danme’s cell…— 1000-702, you’ve got a visitor.— Hm? Who is it?A visitor? Who could it be? I wondered as these shitty guards dragged me to the interrogation room, the lights on the floor illuminating half my face. Then I entered the room, and who wanted to see me was… wait, who the fuck is this guy?— Heyyy! You must be prisoner 1000-702! — The man sat in the chair with his feet up on the table, completely slouched, both hands supporting the back of his neck.— Who the hell are you? — The guards shoved me into the chair, cuffed my hand to the table, and quickly left the room.— My name’s Sairu. And yours? — He extended his hand for a handshake.I looked at him with disdain. — Do you realize I’m handcuffed, right?He sat back, flashing his canines. — Yeah, I know. Just messing with ya. — This guy seemed like a real asshole. I definitely didn’t like him. — So, tell me, kid… how’d you get your hands on the Receptacle?I furrowed my brows, tightening my expression. — “Receptacle”?— Oh, playing dumb now, are we? — His voice dripped with sarcasm as he pulled the necklace from his coat, swinging the cross like a hypnotizing pendulum. — Don’t tell me you don’t recognize this?At that moment, I frantically tried to grab the necklace, but the cuffs held me back. I sighed, closed my eyes, telling myself to calm down, then sat back and said:— Look, man, that’s mine. Give it back.— Tss! Why would I do that? How’d you get it?He rested his fist under his chin. Who the hell is this guy? Why does he act like this? I feel something… from him. A strange yet familiar sensation, like a demonic energy emanating from his body. A trumpet call to chaos standing right before me.— That necklace… it was given to me by my best friend… — I clenched my fists inside the cuffs. — Now give it back.— Hmph.He pulled a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. Click, a flame ignited the tip of the butt. He placed it in his mouth. For a moment, solemnity filled the interrogation room, the dissipating smoke as calm as mountain clouds. He closed his eyes, savoring every second as he smoked—it felt like some kind of calming ritual. Then, his tattoos began to move.— I don’t know how to explain this to you, kid… — He placed the thin roll of finely shredded tobacco on the table. — You… — The tattoos on his neck stretched into lines forming an “X” across his face. — Have committed a sin. And this is your punishment. — His eyes, now open, were completely inhuman, the ink of his tattoos staining his gaze, his irises glowing scarlet. Fear gripped me now. — You are a Sinner.