STAR POV

Star sat alone in her office, bathed in the low crimson glow of city lights filtering through the tall windows. A dark red dress draped over her frame like spilled wine, elegant and deliberate. Her fingers moved steadily across the keyboard, eyes scanning trade routes, shipment confirmations, encrypted messages from world leaders who owed her loyalty—or feared her reach.

Gold. Weapons. Artifacts. Influence.

All flowing exactly where she wanted them.

A new message slid across her screen.

Egypt — Encrypted Channel

My queen. We have finally reached out to say that we are honored to join you on your quest. We wish to serve under your rule.

Star leaned back slightly, a slow smile forming.

Finally,Finally.

She typed calmly.

You will be pleased with the results. Thank you for arriving at this moment.

Send your men to the location attached at the end of this message.

She dropped the coordinates.

Send.

The screen dimmed as she shut the laptop. Star rose to her feet just as the office doors opened.

Her assistant entered first, followed by Azrathion—immaculate in an all-black suit, his presence warping the air around him.

“Your Highness,” her assistant said, bowing her head. “Your request has been approved by the Masters. They are expecting you.”

Star nodded once and waved her away. The doors closed softly behind her.

Azrathion’s lips curled into a grin.

“It’s been years since I’ve had physical contact with a woman.”

Star shook her head, amused.

“You’re free to indulge after we finish what we’re here to do.”

Azrathion tilted his head. “And what is that, my queen?”

She stepped closer—closer than usual—and adjusted his tie with slow precision.

“I want 2 of your men with us today,” she said quietly. “We’re meeting the Masters again.”

“What about Jakari?” Azrathion asked.

Star stepped back, her expression hardening.

“Send the other 2 of your choice. It’s time for change. Time to fix what the world couldn’t.”

Azrathion smiled and bowed his head.

“Yes, my queen.”

They exited the building moments later. Before entering the SUV, Azrathion lifted his hand, summoning flame and shadow. Two figures emerged—Luka and Hideo— “ Bring me Jakari…” “Alive.” They bowed before transforming into black crows and vanishing into the sky.

As the vehicle pulled away, Star broke the silence.

“Can I count on them to bring Jakari?”

Azrathion chuckled softly. “Those demons are toys. Jakari won’t let them take him alive.”

Star nodded. “As long as he stays contained, order remains.”

“Why contain him in a state?” Azrathion asked. “Why not a cell?”

Star turned her gaze from the window.

“A cell tells him he’s trapped. Give him space and he’ll think he’s safe. Give him somewhere to sleep and he’ll believe he belongs.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“Take that away, and he’ll know exactly where never to be.”

“And if he escapes?”

Star met his gaze fully.

“Then you retrieve him. And next time, he doesn’t leave the cell.”

A pause.

“As of now,” she added, “we deal with the Masters. This power the Queen in Egypt gave me—I feel it. Things are about to change.”

Azrathion smiled. “I trust you.”

The town hall loomed ahead.

Inside, the Seven Masters waited.

Star stepped forward and knelt.

“Masters,” she said evenly. “I come with an offer.”

Kurohane rose from his seat.

“You requested this meeting, yet Jakari still lives.”

Shingen leaned forward. “You had one job—”

“I know,” Star interrupted.

Silence fell. You never cut off the Masters.

“I know how to rule this country,” she continued, unflinching, “and how to elevate you far beyond the seats you occupy now.”

The Masters exchanged glances.

Kurohane spoke again. “And how would you do that?”

Star stood.

“We raid the capital. The White House.”

She smiled faintly.

“And turn it into our kingdom.”

Raizen leaned forward. “And Jakari?”

Azrathion answered. “My men are keeping him busy. He will not leave the state.”

Jinsoku’s eyes narrowed. “And if you fail?”

Star rose to her feet and lifted hand.

Power rippled through the chamber—ancient, Egyptian, unmistakable. The mark of a queen long buried and newly awakened. “ I won’t.” 

The Masters stood in shock.

Kurohane waved his hand. “So be it. You will elevate us. Jakari remains contained until the next Blood Moon.”

His voice darkened.

“If he escapes, you and Azrathion return to Hell—cursed until the third Blood Moon.”

Star bowed once. “Agreed.”

Outside, Azrathion asked quietly, “What’s next, my queen?”

Star paused at the steps, staring into the sun.

“Send them all to the White House.”Capital,” she said coldly. “Hack their systems. Capture their leaders.”

She turned.

“Make sure the world knows the United States is under new order.”

Then, softer—but deadlier:

“Go solve what the world couldn’t.”

Flames erupted beside her. Azrathion vanished without a sound.

Star didn’t flinch.

She entered her vehicle as a soldier opened the door.

“Take me to the helicopter,” she said. “We’re going to New York. Four Blackhawks. Five guards at all times.”

“Yes, my queen.”

As the car moved, Star studied the city she’d built—then her reflection in the glass.

Her smile widened.

Her left eye slowly turned white.

Star was escorted to the rooftop moments later. As requested, four Blackhawks circled above, their blades cutting through the night air. Five armored soldiers surrounded her, heavy assault rifles held tight, visors down, breathing steady.

She stepped into the helicopter without a word.

The door slid shut.

As the aircraft lifted, Star sat back calmly—hands folded in her lap.

Then her white eye glowed.

Gold.

The air pressure shifted. The helicopter began to shake violently, as if caught inside a sudden storm. Warning lights flashed red. The soldiers exchanged panicked looks.

“What the hell is happening—” one of them shouted.

Star didn’t move.

A sharp scream cut through the cabin.

One soldier clawed at his face as a black beetle crawled from the shadows, slipping past his lips and forcing its way into his mouth. He collapsed, choking.

The others rushed for the doors. They wouldn’t open.

Another reached for his rifle. But before he could touch it, Star with the flick of her finger uses her power and sends him flying through the side door and out falling his scream fading as he disappears into the clouds.

The pilot screamed and spun in his seat, unloading rounds toward Star in blind terror.

The bullets froze inches from her face.

Her dress began to change—dark red bleeding into gold and black, fabric reshaping itself like living metal. The tattoos on her skin twisted into ancient symbols, burning with power.

With a flick of her hand, the bullets reversed.

They tore through the cabin.

Silence.

The helicopter lurched, engines failing, spiraling toward a corn field the city below.

Star rose to her feet.

Her body dissolved into sand.

The helicopter exploded behind her as she surged into the sky, transforming into a roaring sandstorm. One by one, the Blackhawks were ripped apart—each explosion blooming like fire against the night, lighting the clouds in violent flashes.

Then—nothing but wind.

The storm reformed, racing east.

Toward New York.

Star touched down on the rooftop as if gravity itself had lowered her with care. The last grains of sand spiraled inward, threading into her skin, her dress, her hair, until the storm that had carried her ceased to exist—because it had become her again.

Wind screamed between the skyscrapers, tugging at loose metal fixtures and rooftop cables. The city below moved, unaware, traffic lights shifting, people crossing streets, lives unfolding under a sky that no longer belonged to them.

Her heels clicked once against the concrete.

She walked toward the access door, posture effortless, movements measured. She didn’t rush. Time had a different meaning when you knew how things would end.

The door opened with a low groan.

Inside, the stairwell smelled of dust, rust, and old paint. Emergency lights hummed faintly overhead. Her footsteps echoed in a steady rhythm as she descended, the sound alone enough to unsettle the quiet of the building.

She stopped at the end of the corridor.

A steel door.

She knocked once.

The sound rang louder than it should have.

From inside, a voice called, strained. “ONE MOMENT.”

Multiple locks slid back in hurried succession.

The door opened.

The man on the other side went still.

Star stood framed in the doorway, black-and-gold fabric draped around her like ceremonial armor, patterns shifting subtly in the light. One eye burned gold, ancient and radiant. The other glowed pink, sharp and knowing.

“My queen…” he said, stepping back. “This is… unexpected.”

She entered without breaking eye contact.

“Duke,” she said evenly, voice calm enough to be mistaken for kindness, “you were supposed to be in Arkansas days ago. What happened?”

He shut the door behind her, already unraveling. Sweat traced down his temple.

“I— things came up, your highness. I meant to—”

“Sit,” she said.

He obeyed instantly.

The couch sighed under his weight. His hands rested stiffly on his knees like a man awaiting judgment.

“Star… I didn’t mean to disobey.”

She walked in a slow circle before him, fingers loosely interlaced, as if considering something delicate.

“I’ve known you a long time, Duke.”

“Yes. Two years. Two months.”

“And you’ve done well.”

Hope sparked. Dangerous hope.

“So I need one more favor.”

She stepped closer, movements fluid, controlled. She lowered herself onto his lap with quiet certainty, her hands rising to frame his face, thumbs resting at his jaw.

“Anything,Your Highness” he breathed.

She leaned in and kissed him.

At first, it felt normal. Familiar. His hands moved to her waist on instinct.

Then moments later star grabs and holds his head. Duke begins to feel more relaxed.

CRACK!

Star twisted his neck in one motion breaking it with ease.

Star broke the kiss and stood.

Duke’s body went slack, his gaze unfocused, as if something inside him had simply… departed.

She looked down at him, expression unreadable.

“Loyalty,” she said softly, “Is not a suggestion.”

She then goes to the kitchen and takes one of his knives. She walks back to his lifeless body and begins sawing off his head slowly, with perfect precision. She grabs his head holding it by his blond hair.Blood dripped to the ground forming pools that spread from one room to another.

She then took her arm and grabbed his spinal cord and ripped it out of his body, throwing it onto the ground. Star then walks around the couch and takes her knife and cuts open his stomach…organs, and blood spilled everywhere. She takes his large and small intestines and forms a rope. She ties them together then on the ceiling. She begins to take his spine and ties it to the rope she made that hung from the ceiling perfectly. 

She finally took his head and placed it on the table perfectly and clapped her hands together.

“Sorry sir” she said calmly with a smile forming. “ I'm just a girl who loves bloodbaths.”

She turned and walked out.

The rooftop wind greeted her again, stronger now, circling as if drawn to her presence.

She looked at his head once more as she stood on the edge of the building, 

She took out her phone and called Azrathion.

He answered on the first ring.

“What’s the status?” she asked.

A pause.

Then his voice, dark with restrained amusement.

“Look up.”

A thunderous roar tore across the sky.

Star raised her eyes.

Four F-22 fighter jets streaked over Manhattan, metal silhouettes cutting through clouds and moonlight, engines screaming.

She ended the call.

Her body loosened at the edges, form unraveling into a spiral of sand and shimmering gold dust. The rooftop disappeared beneath her as she lifted into the air, particles scattering and reforming in a widening vortex.

Papers lifted from sidewalks. A pressure rolled through the air like the warning before a storm.

The jets raced forward.

The storm followed.

And this time, the sky belonged to her.

The storm gained on them.

Star’s sand form roared through the sky, a spiraling column of gold and crimson dust ripping through the clouds. Buildings blurred beneath her. The city trembled under the sound barrier cracks of the fleeing jets.

She slowed deliberately.

Letting them think they were escaping.

The sand began pulling inward, folding, shaping—

Her body emerged midair, suspended miles above the earth, dress flowing like liquid metal. Her hair drifted as if underwater.

She looked small against the sky.

But the sky bent around her.

“Let’s see,” she murmured, voice carried on the wind, “what this new power can really do.”

Her gold eye ignited like a miniature sun.

Ancient symbols burned across her skin. The air behind her tore open with a deep, thunderous pulse — like the sky itself had cracked.

Four colossal spears of radiant energy formed, each carved with glowing hieroglyphs, humming with divine weight. Lightning crawled across their surfaces.

She didn’t throw them.

She commanded them.

They shot forward.

The pilots saw them on radar first — impossible objects moving faster than anything alive.

“CONTACT—”

The first jet vanished in a blossom of fire, metal scattering like confetti across the clouds.

The remaining three split apart, engines screaming, flares bursting as they dove and rolled.

Star watched calmly.

She turned human again, hovering in their path — arms relaxed at her sides, dress rippling in invisible currents.

A jet lined up directly with her.

Missiles launched.

Twin trails of smoke cut through the sky toward her face.

She didn’t move.

The missiles reached her—

—and bent.

Like they had struck an invisible wall of gravity.

They curved around her body in a perfect arc and screamed back the way they came.

The pilot barely had time to gasp before his cockpit filled with white light.

The explosion rolled across the sky.

The last two jets opened fire in desperation. Cannons thundered. Hundreds of rounds tore toward her.

They stopped.

Every bullet froze inches from her skin, forming a sphere of suspended metal around her head.

Her pink eye flickered.

She tilted her head slightly, almost curious.

Then she closed her fist.

The bullets reversed direction with violent force, shredding through wings, engines, and fuselage. Both aircraft lost control instantly, spiraling downward in trails of smoke.

Ejection seats blasted free.

Two pilots fell through the sky.

Star vanished.

She reappeared in front of them, catching one in each hand like toys.

The wind howled. The earth rushed up below.

One pilot screamed, ripping a sidearm from his vest and fired once.

The shot hit her face.

Clink.

The bullet flattened and fell.

His terror went silent.

She smiled — not cruel.

Just absolute.

“Hope you can fly without jets hehe. "Have a nice ride.”

She let go.

They fell, their screams swallowed by the wind.

For a moment, the sky was quiet.

Then the sand returned.

Her body exploded into a massive storm cloud of gold and red dust, lightning flashing inside it like a living god was moving within.

The storm surged south.

Clouds split apart. The air pressure dropped. Birds fell from the sky. Windows trembled hundreds of miles away.

And the storm aimed itself at one destination.

Washington.

The White House awaited.