Chapter 50 : Protocol The Fracture Fronts”

Death Protocol HQ – Command Center

Sirens screamed through the hall as red emergency lights flickered across the command deck.

The floor hummed with unstable energy — four massive rift readings flashing on the main display.

“Four simultaneous Omega-class distortions detected!”

“Locations: New York, Tokyo, Berlin, Cairo!”

Operators shouted over each other, their fingers flying across holo-terminals. The walls themselves seemed to pulse with warning glyphs.

Cigar entered the room in a storm of smoke and ash. His boots struck the metal with purpose.

He said nothing for a moment, just stared at the map burning across the screen — four red blots pulsing like angry hearts.

“He’s making his move…”

His voice was low, almost a growl. “And he’s doing it fast.”

The large monitors flickered — static, then clarity.

The Shadow Council appeared,

Cold. Composed. Inhumanly calm.

“Deploy all active Executioners. All of them.”

The command room went silent. Everyone knew their faces now — the people who created Death Protocol, who turned children into weapons.

There was no illusion left.

Cigar exhaled smoke slowly.

He smirked bitterly.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

. “The Demon Realm moves. You will deploy the S-rank.”

Cigar’s eyes flickered as he gave the order. “Aiden?”

“He’s the only one capable of stalling an Omega rift. Send him — and the subordinates under his command.”

The order was given. No hesitation. No emotion.

Cigar turned to his operators.

“Send word to all branches — global response. Aiden’s team stays in New York. The rest—split them. One per rift.”

“What about support, sir?”

“There is no support. They are the support.”

Aiden moved first.

His black coat whipped in the wind as a rift towered over Manhattan — a cyclone of violet light tearing through the skyline.

Flames and debris rained from above.

Five other Executioners appeared behind him, their boots clanging against cracked asphalt.

“Subordinates, form a perimeter!”

“Sir, readings are spiking—”

Too late.

The rift screamed open, and creatures began to crawl through. Twisted things of shadow and horn. Their bodies pulsed with unstable mana — far beyond standard beast signatures.

Aiden drew his blade — pure white energy humming.

“Stay sharp. They’re not from this realm, we don't know they can do.”

He swung once.

A single arc of light cleaved the first wave of beasts in half, the shockwave leveling nearby cars.

But the rift pulsed again.

The air changed.

“Wait—!” one subordinate shouted. “The signal’s shifting—there’s another rift inside it!”

Aiden’s eyes widened. “He’s layering them… one from their word and the other to our word”

Tokyo

Rhea knelt on the edge of a collapsing skyscraper, scanning the massive tear cutting through the city’s sky.

Her subordinate — a young male Executioner with twin daggers — landed beside her.

“Orders, ma’am?”

“We hold this line until Command says otherwise. Nothing gets through.”

She spun her scythe once, code blades flaring outward.

Her calm tone belied the storm inside her. She’d seen Omega rifts before… but not this close.

Berlin

Lightning split the sky as Executioner Sato descended through smoke and dust.

The rift before him howled, twisting the atmosphere itself.

“Sato here. Contact with target anomaly confirmed.”

Static crackled in his comms.

A voice answered faintly — Cigar’s.

“They’re not random. They’re linked. Someone’s syncing them. Be ready.”

Cairo

In the desert heat, a golden rift shimmered like molten glass, consuming ancient ruins.

A team of three Executioners stood at its base — silent, nervous.

One of them whispered:

“The rift pulsed — answering with a low, demonic hum.

Death Protocol HQ — Command Room

“Commander, we’re reading synchronized pulse patterns across all four rifts!”

“They’re… responding to each other!”

The screens flashed — four rhythmic beats, in perfect unison.

Cigar slammed a fist onto the console.

“He’s merging them! Stop the synchronization now!”

One of the Council members leaned closer to the screen.

“We can’t stop what’s already begun.”

“Then slow it down!” Cigar barked.

“Send emergency codes to Aiden’s team—tell them to charge”

Demon King’s Throne Room Eldoria

The throne room burned with crimson light.

Silas stood kneeling, cracks of dark energy crawling up his arm.

Before him, the Demon King sat — colossal, regal, draped in black fire.

Four Rift Mirrors floated behind him, each showing a battlefield on Earth.

“They scatter their soldiers like dust,” the King murmured.

“Desperate. Predictable.”

Silas bowed deeper.

“They’ve learned… but too late.”

The Demon King rose. His shadow stretched across the walls like wings.

“Let the humans fight their four battles.”

He smiled — cold, sharp, ancient.

“While we prepare for the fifth.”

He looked up at the Rift Mirrors, focusing on the Atlantic.

Dark energy surged between the four portals — converging.

Death Protocol HQ

The room shook.

Lights exploded.

One of the operators screamed.

“A fifth rift is forming — over the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Size… it’s bigger than all others combined!”

Everyone froze.

The Shadow Council stood, their faces calm, emotionless.

Cigar’s cigarette fell from his lips.

He whispered:

“...He’s coming through.”

The map turned black.

A single crimson glyph appeared on-screen — ancient, demonic.

And then —

Silence.