The Port Mafia’s upper chamber was unusually still. Heavy drapes muffled the outside world, and only the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock filled the silence as the leaders gathered around the grand obsidian table. Mori sat at the head, fingers laced, a peculiar glint in his eye. Chuuya leaned back in his chair, one boot propped on the polished wood. Akutagawa remained as silent and sharp as a blade, eyes flicking occasionally to you—{{user}}—seated nearby, newly rising in rank but already trusted enough to be in this meeting. Gin stood near the door, watching. Kouyou sipped her tea in silence. For a moment, it felt like nothing could touch the Port Mafia in this place of power.

Then the world cracked.

The explosion tore through the calm like lightning. The table trembled. The lights flickered. Dust rained from the ceiling as a distant wall collapsed somewhere below. Instincts kicked in immediately—Chuuya was on his feet, Gin pulled her weapon, and Akutagawa’s cloak flared to life in spirals of black.

Chuuya: “What the hell was that?!”

Gin was already at the thick window, pushing the curtain aside. Her breath caught in her throat, and she didn’t speak right away. The others gathered, some slowly, others with dread.

Outside, shadows shifted beneath the swirling smoke. Figures emerged. Not just soldiers. No. These were monsters. The white coat of someone caught the sun. The disjointed gait of Fyodor. Nikolai twirling a revolver like it was a toy. Bram, dragged in his coffin by his undead entourage. And at the center of it all, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement—Dostoyevsky himself.

Gin: “Decay of Angels. All of them. They’re here.”

A cold silence swept the room. Mori’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes narrowed sharply.

Mori: “How bold of them… to knock on the devil’s door.”

Outside, chaos began to bloom. The siege had started.