Nyx dropped Damien onto the cracked pavement almost carelessly. His body hit the ground with a dull, hollow thud, the sound echoing faintly down the empty street. Air rushed out of his lungs in a weak gasp, his chest tightening as his body reacted on instinct, but he didn't wake. His limbs went slack again, heat rolling off him in waves, his fever still raging beneath his skin.
She crouched beside him for only a moment. Long enough to pry the purple stone from his loose fingers. The moment it touched her palm, she felt it resist. Not violently, not yet, but enough to make her fingers tense. It didn't like her. Stones usually didn't. She ignored the sensation and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket, pushing it deep, making sure it wouldn't fall out even if he moved.
Straightening up, she stretched her arms above her head and rolled her shoulders slowly, joints cracking softly. The motion looked lazy, casual, like someone shaking off sleep after a long nap. A slow yawn escaped her mouth, and she blinked the heaviness from her eyes.
She glanced around.
The street was empty. Not naturally empty, but forcibly so. No cars. No lights switching on. No distant noise. Too quiet.
She let the silence sit for a second longer.
Then she smiled faintly.
"Three," she said lazily.
The night didn't answer.
"Two."
The air began to change. It wasn't sudden, but it was unmistakable. A low vibration crept through the ground, subtle at first, like something breathing beneath the street. Pressure rolled outward in slow waves, brushing against her skin. The pavement beneath her boots hummed, cracks spreading hairline thin.
"One."
The explosion tore through the street like a violent exhale. Fire and debris burst outward, shattering asphalt and throwing chunks of concrete into the air. The shockwave slammed into the surrounding buildings, windows rattling violently as smoke rolled thick and heavy across the ground.
From within that smoke, something stepped forward.
It was massive.
Nearly eight feet tall, its body thick and dense, built like a wall of muscle stacked upon itself. Eight arms flexed slowly, joints rolling as each limb tested the space around it. Long claws scraped against the pavement, carving lines into stone. Four glowing eyes burned from its face, moving independently as they scanned the area with a predator's focus.
The air around it felt wrong. Heavy. Corrupted. Like the world itself was pulling away from its presence.
"Where is it?" the demon demanded, its voice deep and grinding, like stone dragged across stone.
Nyx tilted her head slightly, as if she genuinely didn't understand the question. "Whatever do you mean?"
Her posture stayed loose. Shoulders relaxed. Weight evenly balanced. Anyone watching might have thought she wasn't taking it seriously.
Inside, her mind was already moving.
A corrupted. Here. Already. And this fast?
Her eyes flicked over the demon's stance without looking like she was studying it. The way its weight leaned forward too much. The way its arms moved without coordination, power without control.
Tier 3. No doubt about it.
She suppressed a sigh.
Can my day get any worse?
The demon roared and surged forward, several arms striking down at once with crushing force. The street cracked beneath the impact.
Nyx didn't brace.
She didn't step back.
She vanished.
Not dodged. Not moved.
Gone.
A fraction of a second later, she reappeared above and behind the creature, her body already rotating mid-air. Her heel snapped down toward the base of its skull with sharp, precise force, aimed not to stun, but to test.
The impact landed cleanly.
Nothing happened.
The demon didn't stumble. Didn't react. It slowly turned its massive head toward her, its four eyes narrowing with open disdain.
"If this is all you can do," it growled, "you are not worthy of fighting me."
Nyx laughed softly, a short breath through her nose. She shook her head once. "Okay, big guy. Be careful what you wish for."
The playful edge drained from her expression. Her eyes sharpened, focus snapping into place.
The demon roared and drove one massive fist into the ground, putting its full weight behind the strike. The pavement split violently, cracks racing outward like veins as the blow sank deep, as if it were trying to punch through the earth itself.
Nyx didn't dodge.
She didn't step away.
She stood there, perfectly still.
The arm crashed down onto her forehead.
The force was enormous. Enough to shatter bone. Enough to crush steel.
"Weak," she said calmly.
Her hands moved.
Not fast. Exact.
She caught the demon's arm at the wrist and just above the elbow, fingers locking into place as she stepped inward instead of back. Her hips turned, her weight dropping low as she shifted her center of gravity beneath the demon's balance. The creature tried to pull back, but it was already too late.
Nyx turned her body and pulled, guiding the arm along a path it couldn't resist. The demon's own momentum betrayed it. Its massive frame lifted off the ground, weight rolling forward as she pivoted smoothly beneath it.
The throw was clean.
As the demon left the ground, she adjusted her grip mid-motion, rotating her wrists and stepping through, twisting the arm into alignment before it even realized what was happening. When its body slammed into the pavement, the arm followed at the wrong angle, joints screaming as pressure locked into place.
The armbar snapped tight.
The demon roared, pain and confusion mixing as it tried to rise, but the leverage was perfect. Every movement only made it worse.
Nyx didn't rush.
She shifted her knee into its side, cutting off breath and balance, then kicked its legs out from under it before it could roll away. The massive body slammed back down, pinned.
Her fists came down.
Not wild. Not angry.
Each strike was measured. Placed. Aimed to crush breath, to rattle senses, to strip away pride. The demon gasped, air forced violently from its lungs as resistance drained from its body. Its struggles slowed, strength bleeding away with each controlled blow.
Moments ago, it had towered over the street.
Now it couldn't even breathe.
That was when Damien woke up.
Pain hit him first.
Heat. Crushing heat, like his blood was boiling inside his veins. His chest tightened as his eyes snapped open, the world swimming violently into focus. His head throbbed, vision blurring as he sucked in a sharp breath.
The first thing he saw made his blood turn to ice.
The demon.
His heart slammed against his ribs, panic flooding him so fast it stole his breath. What the fuck is that thing? His mind screamed at him to move, to run, to get away, but his body felt heavy, slow, disconnected.
Then he saw her.
The woman.
Recognition hit hard. The girl from earlier. Up close, she looked unreal. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, loose strands clinging to her neck from sweat. Her body was lean and muscular, built for movement and violence. Even covered in dust and blood, there was something terrifyingly beautiful about her.
And she was destroying the monster.
Reality snapped back into him all at once.
The stone.
His hands shot to his pocket, fingers shaking. He felt it. Still there.
Good. Thank god.
His thoughts spiraled. He couldn't fight this. He couldn't understand this. He needed to leave. Now.
He pushed himself up and ran.
Halfway through the motion, his mother's face flashed through his mind. His apartment was close. Too close. The noise, the destruction—she would wake up.
Fear twisted in his chest.
He turned and sprinted toward home.
Nyx noticed immediately.
"Cheeky brat," she said, amused.
She appeared in front of him in an instant, forcing him to skid to a stop. She bent slightly, towering over him, eyes sharp as they scanned him from head to toe.
"Not too bad-looking, I guess," she said casually.
Damien's mind raced. Who is she? What is she? Why is this happening?
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, voice shaking. "And what the fuck is that thing?"
She smiled, clearly enjoying his confusion.
He tried to step past her.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back hard.
"Worry not, kid," she said calmly. "All civilians were transported ten kilometers away beforehand."
Before he could process that, his eyes caught something dark staining his shoulder.
Blood.
Too dark. Almost black.
"My shirt, dipshit," he said. "You got blood on my shirt."
His eyes narrowed. "Get your filthy hands off my shirt."
She stared at him, disbelief flickering across her face. He saw what I did, and he still talks back?
Who the hell did the stone choose?
She sighed. "Listen, kid. I'm here to help you. You're carrying the Devil in your pocket. Give me the stone."
Damien hesitated, heart pounding.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket.
Maybe he'll listen, she thought.
Then his grip tightened.
"No."
She blinked. "Did you not hear me?"
"I did," he said. "And I said no."
Her irritation flared. "Fine. Have it your way."
She stepped forward—
"Commander," a voice cut in. "Mr. Asuna is going to be mad if we're off schedule."
She clicked her tongue. "Clean that mess up. Move out."
She glanced back at Damien. "Lucky brat."
Before he could say anything, a sharp blow struck the back of his neck. Darkness swallowed him whole.
Nyx watched him fall.
"I wonder what Asuna will think of this asshole," she muttered.
Then she and the task force vanished, leaving only destruction behind.