"No! I won't lose him! Please, you have to try!"
Renji's voice didn't echo; it died against the sterile, white-tiled walls of the hospital corridor. The gurney was a blur of chrome and frantic motion, the surgeons' faces masked and anonymous as they pushed Kaelith toward the double doors of the theater.
Renji lunged after them, but a nurse was there, her palm flat against his chest. She didn't say anything at first—just a firm, immovable pressure.
"Sir, you can't go in there."
Renji stood frozen. The doors swung shut, the hiss of the pneumatic seal sounding like a final breath. He stayed there, his forehead pressed against the cold glass of the door's small window. A single tear traced a path through the dried blood and dust on his cheek. His knuckles were white, the skin stretched so tight it looked ready to split.
"I can't lose you too," he whispered. The glass fogged with his breath. "Please, Dad. Not yet."
Kamishichiken Street
The old district of Kyoto was quiet, the air smelling of rain and cedar. Inside the small house, Hikari sat on the floor of the main hall, her schoolbooks spread out like a shield. She didn't like the silence. It felt brittle.
She had done exactly what Renji told her. The deadbolts were thrown. The windows were latched. But the shadows on the shoji screen didn't belong to the swaying trees outside.
Three shapes. Long, heavy, and deliberate.
Hikari's heart did a strange, painful skip. She stopped breathing, her pen hovering over a half-finished math problem. The shadows moved toward the front door.
Thump.
A heavy fist tested the wood. Then another. Hikari didn't move. She remembered Renji's eyes when he'd told her: If I'm not here, hide. Don't wait. Don't look.
She slid toward the center table, her movements jerky and silent. She pulled the latch on the hidden floorboard and dropped into the dark crawlspace. She huddled there, her knees tucked against her chin, watching the world through the narrow slit beneath the table.
The front door didn't just open. It exploded. The sound of splintering oak was a gunshot in the small house.
Hikari squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears finally breaking. What should I do? She saw her phone. It was sitting on the sofa, just a few feet away. The light of the screen felt like a beacon in the dim room. Renji.
She crawled out, her breath coming in ragged hitches. She snatched the phone, her thumb hovering over his name. Just as the call connected, the inner hall door was kicked off its hinges.
Three men. They didn't look like Hunters; they looked like butchers.
"Is this the brat?" the leader asked. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on Hikari.
The phone was humming in her hand. Call ongoing. She shoved it behind her back, her spine hitting the wall.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"
One of the men lunged. Hikari tried to bolt, but her foot caught on the rug. She hit the floor hard, the phone skittering across the hardwood, face up.
"Hello? Hikari?" Renji's voice was faint, tinny, coming from the speaker.
The men were on her before she could scream. A thick hand gripped her shoulder, hauling her up. "Let me go! Get out!"
At the hospital, Renji's head snapped up. He gripped the phone until the casing groaned.
"Hikari!"
In the house, Hikari bit down on the hand holding her. She tasted salt and iron. The man roared and backhanded her. The world spun. Her vision blurred as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
"You look pretty," the leader said. He knelt in front of her, pulling a short, flat blade from his belt. He ran the cold steel along her thigh, his eyes dark and wet. "Mind if I... get a taste?"
Hikari's hand moved before she could think. Slap.
The silence that followed was terrifying. The leader's face turned a mottled purple. They threw her onto the sofa, the air rushing out of her lungs.
"How's it gonna feel when all three of us take a turn?" one of them sneered, unbuckling his belt.
Hikari could only sob. The fear had turned her bones to water.
"Hikari!" Renji screamed through the phone again. Then the line went dead.
The leader pounced, pinning her wrists to the cushions. His weight was suffocating.
"Get off," she managed, a broken whisper.
"We need Kurozawa," the man hissed, his face inches from hers. "He killed our big brother. He killed Hoshino. This is for Ryo."
He reached for her shirt, the fabric tearing with a sickening screech. He fumbled with his trousers, his breath smelling of stale tobacco and rot. "Beautiful skin. Shame to let it go to waste."
"Brother... help," Hikari whispered. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling.
Then, the air in the room changed.
It didn't just move; it froze. A violent, unnatural pressure blew the rest of the window glass inward. Standing in the wreckage of the door was a shadow that didn't belong to a man.
Renji didn't say a word. He didn't scream. His eyes were the color of a cold grave.
He moved, but the eye couldn't track it. A single, fluid draw of the Obsidian Greatsword. A shimmer in the air, like heat rising off asphalt.
Three heads hit the floor before the bodies even realized they were dead. Blood sprayed the walls, a rhythmic, hot arterial rain. The headless torsos stood for a second, swaying in a grotesque dance, before collapsing into the gore.
Renji ignored the mess. He ignored the smell. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees by the sofa.
"Hikari!"
His hands trembled. He reached for her, then pulled back, his fingers hovering as if he were afraid he'd break what was left.
"This is my fault. I'm so sorry."
Her eyes fluttered. "Renji—"
He didn't let her finish. He lifted her with a gentleness that didn't match the carnage in the room. He carried her to her bed, his movements slow, deliberate. He brought water and a towel. He cleaned the blood from her lip, his touch light, his jaw set so tight it looked like stone.
When she finally drifted into a shaky sleep, he stepped back into the hall. He stood among the corpses, the blood soaking into his boots.
"I can't let them," he whispered to the empty room. "I won't let them take anything else."
The Void Realm: Gehenna's Scar
The throne room was made of solidified dread—black, jagged crystals that pulsed with a slow, parasitic rhythm. The air was a thick soup of dark mana, enough to rot the lungs of any living thing.
A figure moved through the gloom. His footsteps were silent. He wore a heavy, black cowl that swallowed his features. He sat on a throne of bone and looked out at the gathered mass of demons and Sages.
"Lord Oni-Shin," they chanted, a thousand voices like grinding stones. "The King of Shadows."
The King crossed his legs, leaning back into the bone.
"My Lord," an elder demon stepped forward, its skin a map of scars. "The core is failing. Earth is the only harvest left. But the humans... they have a new wall."
"Is that so?" Oni-Shin's voice was smooth, like silk over a blade. "A Human King?"
"The Monarch," a gaunt Sage whispered, bowing until his forehead touched the cold floor. "If he awakens the Abyss Lord, the gate will shut forever."
Oni-Shin let out a low, dry chuckle. It sounded like parchment tearing.
"Interesting. I haven't had a real hunt in centuries."
"My Lord," the demon pressed. "We must strike before he awakens. If we wait, we lose everything."
Oni-Shin stood. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch, reaching for him like loyal hounds.
"Then prepare the legions," he said. The darkness beneath his hood flared with a sudden, violet light. "We are going to claim our new land."