When the elevator doors opened in front of Alex, a man in a bright yellow suit and matching hat stood inside. His face was hidden behind rimless glasses, and a neatly trimmed beard adorned his chin. He looked like a true gentleman from another era.

But Alex immediately understood—this was no ordinary man. Or at least, not entirely human. And while the tone of his words was friendly, the phrase that they were “going to the same place” sounded more like a warning wrapped in a veil of politeness.

Frowning, Alex disconnected the link to the Valkyries and Zhang Ya without hesitation—he didn’t want them to see or hear anything that could drag them into something best left untouched. Even though they were protected by his power and their special connection, it wasn’t enough to guarantee their safety if the conversation with this… being went wrong.

“Aren’t you going to step in? Or are you waiting for the next one?” the man in yellow asked politely.

Alex silently stepped into the elevator and stood beside him. Pressing the button for the upper floor, he maintained an outward calm, though he couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease. It was clear to him—this “gentleman” hadn’t shown up here by chance.

Their ride upward was silent. The floor numbers on the display quickly climbed, soon surpassing one hundred—something impossible in any ordinary building. That only confirmed Alex’s suspicion: the elevator no longer followed the laws of physics. Everything happening here was under the control of his mysterious companion.

Alex glanced sideways at the man. He was watching Alex with a light, almost lazy smile.

“What are you doing here, King in Yellow? Or should I say… Hastur?” Alex asked coldly, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing unusual. Just a passing interest in your person,” Hastur replied with the same polite smile.

“You’ve looked. Now leave. I don’t care for your mind games. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve done—and what you’re still doing,” Alex’s voice turned icy, his gaze piercing.

“Hahaha… So Narexo wasn’t lying when he described you. You don’t play nice with beings like us. But so what? I come and go as I please. Or do you really believe that with just a droplet of power you can feel safe? That your trophies will always be out of reach?”

At the mention of Narexo’s name, Alex suddenly smiled. A warm, calm smile lit up his face.

Now it all made sense. If Hastur knew about Narexo, then the other avatars were already beginning to realize that he was hunting them. It confirmed his suspicion: Narexo wasn’t just one of them—he was likely the leader of all the avatars that Nyan-Nyan had unleashed for her little game. And now she was watching it all unfold with great amusement, eager to see how her avatars flailed in desperation, trying to surpass her and take her place.

Alex stifled a smirk. Hastur had revealed too much—without even realizing it. He couldn’t leave his domain in his true form and could only send avatars, meddling in the fates of worlds from the shadows. Alex also realized that not all Outer Gods were asleep—some were very much awake. And most importantly, he now knew that Hastur was connected to Narexo. Most likely, Narexo had promised him something.

And that “something” was most likely freedom. Hastur probably wanted to leave the boundaries of his domain in his original form, but he could only do so when the appointed time came—or if someone helped break the cage that held him. When Hastur saw the smile on Alex’s face, even a being as wise as he, who had manipulated countless mortals, was momentarily thrown off.

“Thanks. You’ve clarified a lot for me. You’re like a pig on the wrong team,” Alex said, grinning cheerfully at Hastur.

“What do you mean?” Hastur frowned for the first time.

“You’ve spent so much time among mortals, and yet you still don’t understand the simplest things… We have a saying: ‘A clever enemy is not as dangerous as an idiot ally.’ And guess what? You’re that idiot. Thanks for the help, genius,” Alex smirked and patted Hastur on the cheek.

Swatting Alex’s hand away, Hastur scowled, staring at the embodiment of destruction before him. According to Narexo, the being before him was intelligent, cautious, and never acted without a plan. Even if one plan failed, he always had a backup. That was precisely why Hastur had dared to appear so suddenly and provoke him. But the fact that his ploy not only failed but actually amused the embodiment of destruction—was something he hadn’t anticipated.

Alex, watching Hastur’s reaction, was only growing more amused. He had already figured out the purpose behind the provocation: Hastur wanted Alex to come to his domain and destroy the seal restraining his true form—the very “cage” he so desperately wished to escape.

Even if Hastur and Narexo were working together for some unknown reason, Alex had one singular theory—they wanted to trigger the Cycle earlier than scheduled. However, Alex had no intention of letting other Outer Gods interfere in his life—especially not the ones who were still sleeping. And the only idiot crazy enough to start waking them was Narexo, who had clearly gone completely off the leash.

Alex wondered whether Nyan-Nyan and Yog were even aware of what the avatars of this troublesome woman were up to. Then again, he suspected they simply didn’t care. Even if someone managed to wake the other Outer Gods, they still wouldn’t be able to escape their domains without special help.

Looking at Hastur one last time, Alex mentally noted: this idiot had helped him piece together the situation far more than he likely realized. And if everything he’d figured out was right, then let Nyan-Nyan and Yog handle it from here.

He sent out a mental message—almost like a prayer:

“Your nephew, or whatever he is to you, is meddling in my business.”

And as if in reply, Nyan-Nyan’s enchanting voice echoed in Alex’s mind. Only this time, it was far from kind—annoyed to the extreme.

“Oh, my darling… you actually decided to pray to me. How sweet. Pity it’s over something so trivial. Don’t you want to talk about something more… interesting? And your first prayer is about this… reject? Aren’t you curious how I’m doing? What I’m up to?” Her voice softened slightly. “I think about you… constantly. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of the one interfering with your little games. See you soon. Mwah~”

Immediately after, a calm, cold voice entered Alex’s mind—Yog’s:

“His actions disrupt the balance and violate the pact. I will handle it.”

Alex involuntarily flinched. His eye twitched from Nyan-Nyan’s impatient chatter, and her barrage of questions made his face contort slightly. But deep down, he was glad the conversation had ended so quickly. Listening to her voice constantly in his head was a sure way to go insane.

And most importantly — now he knew: Hastur’s end was near. Not only would Nyan-Nyan head into his domain, but Yog herself would join as well. Alex even felt a slight pang of sympathy for the idiot in front of him — with just a few careless words, he had given away far too much.

Hastur was still frowning at the embodiment of destruction. What confused him the most was the ever-changing expression on his opponent’s face. Why was this creature… sympathizing with him?

“Well, I want to thank you, my new friend,” Alex said with a grin. “With just a few reckless phrases, you’ve completely ruined Narexso’s plans — and there’s no undoing it now. You were promised freedom, but you got impatient and tried to provoke me into breaking your cage myself. Too bad — I’m not going to do that. Oh, and thank you for confirming that Narexso really is trying to awaken the other Outer Gods and start the Cycle ahead of schedule. And an even bigger thanks for making it clear that he’s watching me. Maybe he’s not the only one.”

A wide grin spread across Alex’s face.

“And now, here’s my farewell gift. This is going to hurt.”

The longer Alex spoke, the more Hastur’s eyes narrowed. Now he understood why Narexso had warned him about just how dangerous this being was. But when Alex mentioned pain, Hastur grew truly alert.

He never got a chance to respond. Black chains wrapped in pale flames began to coil around his body. They instantly tightened, forcing him to his knees. The fire didn’t burn the flesh — it burned the essence.

“And before you vanish,” Alex said, aiming a revolver directly at Hastur’s face, “allow me to give you one last present. Not for you — but for your true form.”

He tilted his head slightly and smirked.

“Smile. There’s going to be a flash.”

Hastur’s eyes narrowed further as he stared down the barrel of the revolver. But what he felt coming from the weapon told him exactly what kind of “gift” Alex meant. The revolver was imbued with the power of destruction, and in the next instant, it fired. The head of Hastur’s mortal vessel exploded, splattering blood across the walls.

Alex smirked and holstered the revolver behind his back.

“And that was just the first gift, Hastur…” he muttered quietly, as if speaking to the dead god. The second gift, he assumed, had already arrived in his domain.

Alex still didn’t understand why Nyan-Nyan was so obsessed with him — or why Yog, who occasionally visited under the pretense of prophecy or wanting to “befriend” him, seemed to care. But it didn’t matter. As long as they didn’t interfere with his work, Alex didn’t mind “befriending” these strange beings… if you could even call it that.

After Hastur’s vessel died, Alex glanced at the elevator’s floor panel and realized that the lift had been standing still the entire time. Annoyed, he pressed the button for the top floor, and his sympathy for Hastur faded completely. On the contrary — now he hoped that Nyan-Nyan and Yog would properly punish that bastard in yellow.

Meanwhile, two beings invaded Hastur’s domain — though “walked in” would be more accurate, as if they were returning home. The entire realm was barren and covered in yellow sand. Statues once worshipped by the people of this world lay broken, though every single one depicted the same figure: a tall man in a robe, his face hidden in shadow, with a crown on his head.

Statues stood on both sides of the stone path leading to the massive temple — or perhaps a palace — at the heart of the dead city. Only this building remained intact amidst the ruin.

Nyan-Nyan had no intention of admiring the scenery. Straightforward and confident, she made her way toward the temple, her face reflecting furious anger — for someone had dared to interrupt her enjoyment of her beloved destruction. Yog, as always, walked leisurely, slowly nibbling on snacks as though she had come to a picnic rather than to confront an Ancient Horror.

Any living being that found itself in this desolate world would have perished or gone mad from the mere proximity of the two. Each step Nyan-Nyan took tore at the fabric of space itself, destroying the remnants of reality that had transformed this place into a prison for Hastur.

Like a storm, Nyan-Nyan burst into the temple.

At that moment, Hastur lazily sat upon a massive throne. His body was cloaked in a yellow, tattered robe, and his eyes gleamed in the shadow cast by the fabric. His head was adorned with a crown, studded with jewels that glowed with the light of other worlds, brighter than any star. But even his robe couldn’t conceal his terrifying form: his fingers were elongated and sharp, like tentacles, and the skin on his arms resembled the scales of a sea monster.

Ancient legends from other worlds spoke of Hastur as the blood brother of Cthulhu. Their appearances were indeed similar, but they loathed each other with a fury that bordered on obsession, each dreaming of the other’s death.

Hastur’s yellow eyes flared with irritation when he saw Nyan-Nyan enter his sanctum uninvited.

“What brings you to my domain, Nyarlathotep, Yog-Sothoth?” he drawled lazily, his voice thick and slow.

“I think you already know, you yellow bastard. Or should I remind you who you sent your avatar to?” Nyan-Nyan hissed, holding back her rage.

“Well, I sent him. So what? Why should you care about this youngster, the embodiment of destruction? What he does shouldn’t concern either you or you, Yog-Sothoth,” Hastur replied lazily, resting his cheek on his fist.

“Don’t play your games, Hastur,” Yog-Sothoth said calmly as she entered the temple. “Or should I remind you where your place is in our hierarchy? Keep your manipulations to this cosmic dust.”

Hastur’s eyes narrowed. Once, Narexso had come to him and informed him that Nyarlathotep and Yog-Sothoth were somehow connected to the young embodiment of destruction. Back then, Hastur had laughed. He knew full well that those two did not interfere in anything — as long as Azathoth slept.

Even when Nyarlathotep’s avatars rose against their creator, she didn’t intervene. Even when he, Hastur, sent his mortal avatar to spread chaos in other worlds — they remained silent. But now… they were here.

“Seems like you’re not hearing me,” Nyan-Nyan said coldly. “Let me repeat: stay away from my destruction. Or you’ll die before the cycle repeats.”

The space beside her flared… and vanished, turning into nothingness.

Hastur frowned as he looked at Nyarlathotep and the destruction that accompanied her arrival. Yog merely sighed wearily, watching as Nyan-Nyan began to lose control of herself. The space, cracked under the pressure of her power, suddenly returned to normal — Yog didn’t want to waste energy on words; they hadn’t come here to discuss but to beat. Her thoughts involuntarily jumped to Alex. Maybe she should collect payment from him later for having to keep an eye on this madwoman…

“Oh, you’ve come to kill me, Nyarlathotep?” Hastur sneered. “First, deal with your avatars that ran away from you. Who knows, maybe one of them will take your place someday.”

“It’s not her who will kill you,” Yog replied coldly. “It’s him. If you don’t stop interfering with his affairs. Or do you truly believe your plan to escape your cage will work?”

“Him? Kill me?” Hastur laughed, his laughter echoing through the temple. “He hasn’t even grown yet. What are you talking about? Or have you both, after centuries of imprisonment in Chaos, developed a sense of humor? Ha-ha-ha-ha…”

The laughter suddenly stopped.

Blood shot from one of Hastur’s yellow eyes. With a crack, the eye burst right in its socket. Instead of laughter, an animalistic scream of pain erupted, shaking the temple. The entire planet trembled, and the temple, which seemed unshakable, began to collapse. Black blood stained his yellow robes. He writhed, unable to cope with a pain he had never felt before.

“I told you so,” Yog turned away, preparing to leave. “You think the embodiment of Destruction is still growing… But he’s already strong enough to destroy you. You wanted him to break your cage, but in the end, he’ll destroy both it and you along with it. So… don’t interfere with him existing. Or the consequences will be fatal.”

“I promised him I’d teach you a lesson,” Nyan-Nyan added with a sneer. “And I’ll keep my word to my beloved Destruction. Also, I’ll collect payment for interrupting my enjoyment of the spectacle.”

The space around Hastur cracked, as if breaking under its own weight. Black tentacles erupted from the void, impaled his arm, and tore it off with a crunch. Where the torn space had been, furious eyes and gaping mouths full of sharp teeth appeared. His arm disappeared into the abyss, and the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones echoed.

Hastur, distorted by pain and fury, stared at Nyan-Nyan, but she only smirked. Her eyes briefly flared with colors that could not be described, and Hastur’s restored eye exploded once again, splashing his face with blood.

Without saying another word, Nyan-Nyan vanished, as if she had never been there, leaving Hastur alone in the desolate world that had become his prison.

While all of this was happening in another world, Alex was riding the elevator to the top floor, whistling cheerfully and bouncing to the beat. The encounter with Hastur had helped him understand what to be prepared for. He knew that beings like this had ambitions inflated to madness. Even if Nyan-Nyan and Yog had frightened him, it didn’t mean that Hastur wouldn’t try to interfere again.

Alex didn’t yet know that the effect had been far stronger than he had anticipated. Hastur had truly gone into hiding. He was quietly licking his wounds in his cage, realizing that Alex was not the “young embodiment of destruction” but a force capable of destroying him.

Alex had managed to wound him… through the avatar that Hastur himself had sent to provoke him.

Even if Alex found out that he had one more or fewer enemies, he would have just shrugged. One more, one less — what difference did it make…

But now he knew something important: Nerekso commanded the other avatars of Nyarlathotep.

Whistling and dancing a little, Alex was in a great mood — and it was almost impossible to ruin it now. The elevator stopped at the right floor, and without stopping his cheerful tune, Alex stepped forward, exiting the cabin. All that remained was to get the answers he needed from Wesker and then move on. In Alaska, more important matters awaited him — eliminating two idiots: the Minister of Monoliths and Davot.

Following the preplanned route, he confidently headed to the place where Wesker was supposed to be, intending to finish what he had started on this island and flatten everything to the ground. However, as soon as Alex turned the corner, a leg shot at him with a whistle — a direct strike to the face.

Without losing an ounce of calm, Alex smoothly lifted Yamato and blocked the attack with its scabbard. With a gentle push, he sent the attacker back and finally saw the girl before him. It was Jill Valentine — in that very blue latex suit, just like in the game. Alex raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding: this was not just Jill, but her controlled version. That meant she must have the controller on her chest, the one Wesker had used to subjugate her.

But there was no time to think — Jill attacked again. Fast, agile, precise — strikes came one after another, each of which Alex easily blocked with the scabbard of Yamato.

“Hm… She has no demonic power. Why?” he muttered, dodging the next blow.

She remained silent, attacking with unnatural precision. Her movements were as sharp as a doll’s, able to fight without fatigue. Jill alternated close combat with shooting from mini-machine guns, but the bullets never touched Alex.

When she returned to hand-to-hand combat, Alex, not being a pervert but rather curious, stepped forward, avoided her strike, and grabbed the girl’s leg. With his free hand, he tugged at the zipper of her suit — just enough to confirm that, yes, the controller was indeed on her chest.

Stretching, he tried to pull it out, but Jill skillfully twisted out of his grip and charged again.

“Didn’t work the first time — it will work the second. Saving another person — no problem,” Alex said calmly, dodging her next strike.

Seizing the moment, Alex swiftly closed the distance, grabbed the controller, and effortlessly ripped it out. Jill immediately weakened and, like a puppet with severed strings, slumped and collapsed. Alex managed to catch her and gently leaned her against the wall. Confirming that she was unconscious, he touched her forehead with his fingers and activated healing energy. Jill’s eyes fluttered, and within a couple of seconds, she regained consciousness, meeting Alex’s smiling face.

“Who are you?.. Where am I?” she asked, looking around.

“Don’t remember?” Alex asked, his face stone cold with barely contained amusement. “You attacked me, shouting that I had to marry you. And when I refused, you started attacking. I had to defend myself, and you passed out.”

Jill’s eyes widened. It was as if a short circuit went off in her head, followed by a flood of memories. Everything became clearer with every passing second. Wesker… He had turned her into his puppet. She remembered how he had been watching some man, calling him the “false savior.” She didn’t know who he had discussed this with, but now she clearly saw the face in front of her — and knew his name.

“Looks like your memory’s back. That’s good. I was starting to think I had another wife,” Alex said, his tone slightly exaggerated.

“Very funny,” Jill muttered sarcastically as she got up from the floor.

Alex helped Jill up and still watched her carefully. While she fully regained her bearings, he lazily lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke.

“Well, Jill Valentine. How did you end up like this? Even Barry and his daughter Moira ended up in Wesker’s hands,” he said, looking at Jill over the cigarette.

“Barry? Is he okay?” she asked, alarmed, remembering that she had ordered the capture of him and Moira while under Wesker’s control.

“Yeah, he’s already been rescued. By the way, Rebecca’s also in my group. Quite the surprise, huh? I met three of STARS, and I’m going to kill the fourth. Such an eventful life I lead,” Alex replied with a smirk.

Jill’s eyes widened in surprise. Alex decided to fill her in on what had been happening so that she would understand what she had missed while under control. She nodded, sighing with relief — although her memories were still fragmented, the image of the man in front of her was clearly familiar. She remembered that she had been tasked with capturing this man and his closest circle, but for some reason, the operation had been canceled.

“So, you’re going after Wesker? I’ll help. He has new allies now, and it’s not going to be easy. They’ve gone through enhancements — they’re not just fighters anymore, but real monsters,” Jill said, reloading her mini-submachine guns.

“Don’t bother, I’ll handle it on my own. You’d better head downstairs and get to the shore — my people will pick you up there. I don’t want to hurt your delicate woman’s heart, but you’ll just be in the way,” Alex replied with a slight smirk.

“Are you sure?” Jill squinted.

“Absolutely. From here on out, I work alone. You’d be better off meeting up with your old friends, chatting, taking a shower, having a coffee. Judging by your face, you’ve got a migraine right now that could crumble walls,” Alex added lazily, throwing his hands behind his head.

“I’d like to say it’s not true… but yeah, coffee and a shower would definitely help right now,” Jill said with a faint smile.

“Before you go, tell me, who’s waiting for me up ahead?” Alex asked, politely but with curiosity in his voice.

“Heihachi Mishima — grumpy old man, another one called Akuma. Then there’s the Korean… I think his name is Han Chun-Woo, they call him the Dragon of Nine Arts. And the last one — Heisenberg, the one who controls metal.”

Alex nodded and waited until Jill entered the elevator. After touching his communicator, he informed them that another person was headed to the beach. The response came back confirming — everything was under control. While he was chatting with Hastur, the aircraft carrier had already sailed away from the shore, as planned.

Watching Jill leave, Alex refocused. He felt it — ahead were four people, their energy tainted with demonic power. And in the center of this darkness, pulsed the strongest aura — Wesker. It was obvious: he had decided to play the role of the final boss.

Proceeding down the hallway, Alex reached the massive wooden doors. Deciding to act politely, he “knocked” on them… with his foot.

“Knock knock, ladies. Here I am,” he said lazily, kicking the door down.

The doors flew across the room like projectiles. However, two of the four inside reacted instantly — and the splintered boards scattered, not reaching their target. Alex strolled in leisurely and surveyed the room. It looked more like the hall of a medieval castle than a laboratory.

“Why would anyone turn a laboratory into a Gothic reception hall? Some kind of fetish,” he muttered to himself before shifting his gaze to the enemies.

To the left stood Heihachi — just lowering his fist after a punch. Next to him was the silent Han Chun-Woo. Behind him stood Akuma, eyeing Alex with a predatory gaze. And finally, Heisenberg. It was surprising that he was still alive. If he had once been Miranda’s toy, now Wesker kept him on a leash.

“Wow, there are so many of you. It’s like a party…” Alex said, raising his eyebrows with feigned astonishment.

The four enemies watched Alex carefully, trying to feel his strength — but they sensed nothing special. Alex, lazily placing his hands behind his head, calmly moved forward, mentally calculating which one of them he should deal with first. His gaze slid from one to another until it stopped in the center of the room, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who’s going first?” Heihachi asked with a smirk, folding his arms. “I don’t want to dirty my hands with this kid, whose beard hasn’t even grown yet.”

“Pass,” Chun-Woo replied, indifferently looking away.

“Let this hat-wearing fool handle it. All he’s done so far is talk,” Akuma scoffed, casting a disdainful glance at Heisenberg.

“You wanna see what I’m capable of, bastard?” Heisenberg growled, and metal objects began to rise behind him.

“Oh, girls, don’t fight,” Alex said mockingly. “I’ll handle all of you. I’m… such a rare commodity.”

“I’ll take this bastard first,” Heisenberg hissed, glaring at Akuma with rage. “Then I’ll deal with you.”

Akuma just grinned in response, clearly enjoying the moment. In the next second, a metal rod flew toward Alex at lightning speed, but he barely turned his head, letting the projectile whiz past and embed itself into the wall behind him.

“If you think throwing metal objects is fun,” Alex smirked, “I can play too.”

Without waiting for another attack, a dagger appeared in his hand, and with astonishing speed, he threw it. The blade embedded itself directly in Heisenberg’s forehead. Heisenberg growled in irritation, yanking it out, but Alex was already stepping forward, parting his cloak, which was literally covered in daggers on the inside.

“You thought I had just one? Well, that’s a shame. I have a whole shop of them,” he said with a predatory grin.

Without wasting any time, Alex started throwing them one after another. Heisenberg tried to stop them with the power of magnetism, but he overlooked two things: the force of the throws and the fact that each dagger had been forged by Alex himself — taking into account resistance to control. A few moments later, Heisenberg’s body resembled a porcupine, shredded by steel. He didn’t even realize when he died: his body collapsed limply onto its back, blood spreading across the floor.

Alex looked skeptically at the corpse.

“Maybe I should’ve brought him to Alcina… Oh well. He’d be better off on the operating table as material — maybe that would’ve been useful.”

The other three — Heihachi, Akuma, and Chun-Woo — silently stared at the body. No hint of sympathy: there was no friendship or respect between them.

“One’s gone, three remain,” Alex said mockingly. “And here I thought you’d be more of a challenge.”

“You, kid, are getting too cocky,” Akuma growled, “if you think you’ve done something great by killing that trash.”

“Then show me what you’re worth,” Alex spread into a wide, bloodthirsty grin. “Prove that you’re not just a mutt on a leash.”

All three scowled, and in that moment, for the first time, they felt a threat. Whereas before, Alex had seemed nothing special, now there was a palpable danger emanating from him. They charged forward at the same time.

But Alex didn’t flinch. He dropped into the Royalguard stance, blocking the attacks from all three opponents simultaneously. The blows came one after another, each heavier than the last, but he absorbed them all, not stepping back a single inch.

When the energy reached its peak, a grin appeared on his face.

“Release,” he murmured quietly.

In the next instant, all the accumulated pressure exploded outward. Heihachi, Akuma, and Chun-Woo were sent flying backward like ragdolls, crashing through walls. The craters left by their impacts with the stone loudly testified to the force of the blow.

Alex straightened, dropping his stance and looking at the three scattered enemies.

“Is that all?” he said mockingly. “I expected more.”

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep