As the camera panned back to the Imperial Palace, the two friends leaned forward again, eager to see what Riku would say next.
Riku exhaled slowly, letting the chatter of the press die down before he spoke again. The air in the room was still heavy with shock from his earlier revelations, but his calm, commanding tone brought everyone's attention back to him.
"Now," he said, adjusting his microphone slightly, "before anyone asks why the Azusagawa are managing Pantasia instead of me, let me explain. The reason I became the owner in the first place... was because I got dragged into Pantasia's conflict with another bakery—St. Pierre."
The name alone stirred a reaction across the room. Reporters exchanged uneasy glances; some even audibly gasped. The very mention of St. Pierre carried a weight of bad memories for the older generation of Japanese citizens—memories of a scandalous corporate feud that nearly destroyed several culinary institutions.
"St. Pierre... you mean that St. Pierre?" one of the reporters asked hesitantly.
Riku nodded solemnly. "The very same."
The room fell silent. He took a sip of water, set the glass down, and continued.
"I was dragged into a conflict between the two at its peak. St. Pierre was attempting a hostile takeover of Pantasia, pressuring them to sell the company. Pantasia refused. That's when Sanzaemon-dono stepped in and suggested that the matter be settled through a Shokugeki."
At once, several reporters leaned forward, eyes widening. The word alone sent a ripple of shock through the hall.
A Shokugeki—a formal culinary duel—wasn't just cooking. It was a high-stakes battle where chefs put everything on the line: honor, property, and even identity.
"For those unfamiliar," Riku went on, his tone measured, "a Shokugeki is a culinary showdown where both sides stake something of equal value. The winner takes everything. In this case, both parties needed a neutral representative—someone unaffiliated with either side. I was chosen to represent Pantasia."
He let that sink in before continuing.
"The stakes were... extreme. If Pantasia won, St. Pierre would dissolve, and its owner would be permanently banned from the culinary world. But if St. Pierre won, they would claim the entire assets of Pantasia—and the Azusagawa Family, who supported them."
The journalists looked as if the floor had dropped out from under them. A few muttered under their breath, the weight of those stakes practically unimaginable.
Riku continued, his expression calm but serious.
"What none of us knew at the time was that the Shokugeki had drawn the attention of far more than just the culinary community. Bets started to circulate—massive ones. Yakuza factions, tycoons, international investors... all started wagering on the outcome. By the time the duel began, it had become a global spectacle."
He paused briefly, as if reliving that day—the sound of the oven doors slamming, the heat of the crowd, the electric intensity that burned through every second of that battle.
"But in the end," he said with quiet confidence, "Pantasia won. I won. Convincingly."
The hall erupted into gasps again. And then he dropped the number.
"And for that victory... I earned one hundred billion yen."
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—
"EEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!?"
The collective shriek of disbelief from the reporters practically echoed through the entire palace. The walls might as well have trembled from the force of it. Riku couldn't help but chuckle softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the cameras flashed nonstop.
"Yeah," he said with a wry smile, "I figured that would be your reaction."
The media scrambled to do the conversion.
A hundred billion yen—nearly seven hundred million dollars at the time. Enough to buy entire corporations. Enough to elevate Riku far beyond even Japan's richest young elites.
He raised a hand lightly. "However... I didn't accept the full amount. I only took sixty billion. The remaining forty billion went to Pantasia as a way for them to expand further."
That earned him a stunned silence once again.
"After that," he continued, "the owner of Pantasia suddenly named me the new owner—just like that. Of course, I refused at first. I was only fifteen then, and I was preparing to leave Japan to make my debut with OG."
Whispers rippled across the hall. Fifteen? He had done all of that before becoming an international star? The sheer absurdity of it left everyone dumbfounded.
"But we reached an agreement," Riku said, his tone returning to composure. "I would hold ownership of Pantasia, while the Azusagawa Family would serve as its managing branch—essentially vassals under the Nagae. They've been running Pantasia on my behalf ever since."
He paused, then gave a slight, knowing smile.
"As for my current net worth..." He folded his hands calmly on the podium. "It stands around four hundred million U.S. dollars—not including the lifetime endorsement deal I signed with Red Bull earlier this year."
Another wave of disbelief swept through the audience. Cameras flashed rapidly again as reporters rushed to capture every line.
A nineteen-year-old with nearly half a billion in assets? It sounded like something pulled from a fantasy novel.
Riku continued evenly, "And since Pantasia remains under my ownership, that alone exceeds the standard requirement. But there's one thing Yuyuko-san didn't tell you all—one last condition."
The reporters fell silent again, sensing the shift in tone.
Riku's expression turned slightly mischievous. "The condition... is the limit on how many wives one can have."
Gasps rippled through the room.
"Wait—" one of the reporters blurted out nervously. "You mean there's more conditions!?"
Riku nodded. "When Yuyuko-san mentioned that the required net worth for a man to take multiple wives is one hundred million dollars—that only applies to having two wives. If someone wants to have another, they need to increase their net worth by fifty million per wife. And all of it must be earned legally."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even the cameramen blinked, unsure if they'd heard correctly.
Riku smiled faintly. "Given my current net worth, theoretically... I could have up to eight wives. I already have five."
And just like that, the room exploded.
Reporters started talking over one another, microphones clattered, and social media feeds blew up across every major platform. The young Nagae standing before them wasn't just powerful—he was setting an entirely new standard.
What had begun as an informative press conference now felt like the unveiling of a myth in real time.
Riku raised his hand gently, signaling them to calm down. His tone grew firmer.
"And to make things clear," he continued, "the Celestial Families will be overseeing all of this. The Prime Minister has entrusted us with the responsibility of monitoring business legality. We'll know if any attempt to meet these requirements involves illicit activities." His gaze sharpened slightly, and for a moment, his aura radiated quiet authority that silenced even the most persistent reporters. "Anyone caught violating the terms will face consequences. Remember—this isn't just about privilege. It's about contributing to Japan's future."
At that cue, Yukari stepped forward gracefully, her fan flicking open with a soft snap. The crowd immediately quieted at the sight of her.
"Like Okina said earlier," Yukari spoke with a serene yet powerful tone, "we're not forcing anyone to take this path. What we're offering... is an option. If you choose to pursue it, then we, the Celestial Families, will do everything in our power to support you."
Her words carried weight. The kind that settled into the hearts of everyone listening. The young men watching through live broadcasts across the country began to question themselves—whether they had the resolve, the discipline, the ambition to walk such a path.
But before anyone could fully process the gravity of it all, Riku smirked slightly and turned toward Aichi, who stood nearby, looking like he wanted nothing to do with whatever was coming next.
"Of course," Riku added, his tone suddenly playful, "I'm not the only one in this kind of situation."
Aichi blinked, instantly feeling dread rise in his chest. "Wait. Riku—no. Don't you dare—"
Too late.
Kaguya, who had been silently amused by the entire press conference, let out a mischievous chuckle and joined in. "Oh, I see what you're doing, Riku~. Yes, it seems we have another one here with a harem."
Aichi's face went pale. "Kaguya-san, please—"
But Yukari had already picked up on the playful chaos unfolding. She waved her fan lightly, and a shimmering boundary appeared beside Aichi—before a gap opened in the air itself.
From that gap stepped three familiar girls, their presence immediately recognizable to anyone in Japan: Honoka, Kotori, and Umi.
The crowd gasped, the atmosphere shifting from solemnity to near disbelief. The idols of μ's—standing right there in the Imperial Palace.
Aichi covered his face with his hand and sighed in defeat. "I give up..."
He lowered his hand and straightened up, cheeks flushed red. "Yeah... Riku's not the only one. Kosaka Honoka, Minami Kotori, and Sonoda Umi are my fiancées as well."
The room erupted again, though this time the noise was mixed with laughter and shock. Fans across the nation were probably screaming at their screens right now.
Aichi continued awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "We're childhood friends, so... it kind of worked out naturally, I guess."
That statement alone sent a wave of chaos through the hall.
Japan's rising idols—engaged to one of Japan's top content creators and magician? It was too much for the media to handle.
But Aichi, in all his nervous honesty, wasn't done.
"H-Hear me out," he stammered. "At first, it was just me and Kotori. We'd been engaged since childhood. But later, Kotori suggested... that I take Honoka and Umi too."
Riku's lips twitched, suppressing laughter. He wasn't the only one. Kaguya and Yukari both turned away slightly to hide their smiles.
Aichi rubbed the back of his neck again, face red as a tomato. "At first, I was afraid. I thought... I might ruin their friendship if I accepted. But... I was lucky. Both of them accepted my feelings, too."
His words carried genuine warmth—so much so that even the reporters, who had spent the morning chasing headlines, smiled faintly at the earnestness of it.
Riku's Mindscape – Dragon Palace
While the palace continued buzzing with noise, a completely different atmosphere existed deep within Riku's mindscape.
The grand Dragon Palace shimmered with white and azure light, calm waves lapping at its crystalline floors. Within its halls sat two familiar figures watching the events unfold through Riku's eyes: Tenshi and Iku.
"Pfffft—HAHAHAHA!" Tenshi burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as she doubled over on the couch. "Look at him! My baby brother's face is redder than a tomato! Hahaha! He can't even talk straight!"
Iku sighed softly, crunching on a rice cracker as she watched the scene. "Calm yourself, Tenshi. You'll choke."
Tenshi tried to stop laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, come on, Iku! You can't tell me that isn't hilarious! He's finally in the spotlight, and the poor boy's dying of embarrassment!"
Iku didn't respond immediately. Her gaze shifted subtly, her expression growing more serious as her crimson eyes half-opened.
"...I can feel it," she murmured. "Something's brewing."
Tenshi's laughter faded, replaced by a quiet tension. "You think that old coot's going to act?"
Her tone was sharper now, and both knew who she was referring to—Kouya, the head of the Nagae Branch Family.
Iku's eyes narrowed slightly as she stared into the projection of the Imperial Palace, where Kouya's expression was growing darker by the second, his composure slipping.
"Hm." That single sound was all she gave, but it carried enough weight for Tenshi to understand.
The peace of the moment wouldn't last.
----------
The echoes of laughter still lingered through the grand hall, fading like the tail end of a melody. Reporters chuckled and whispered among themselves, their pens tapping against tablets and recorders. The tension that had suffocated the Imperial Palace only minutes ago had melted into something startlingly human—light, warm, and almost peaceful.
Riku leaned back in his chair, flashing Aichi a teasing grin. "Guess we're not so different after all."
Aichi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a wry smile. "You just had to drag me into this, didn't you?"
"Of course," Riku replied, chuckling. "Can't let you off the hook that easily."
Their banter drew another wave of laughter from the crowd, softening even the sternest faces in the room. For the first time in hours, the palace didn't feel like a place of hierarchy—it felt like a gathering of people connected by truth, courage, and ridiculous circumstance.
But beneath that laughter, in the shadowed rows near the back, one man sat perfectly still.
Kouya Nagae. The head of the Nagae Branch Family.
His eyes were dark pools of resentment, glinting faintly under the chandeliers. While the rest of Japan marveled at the harmony unfolding before them, Kouya saw only betrayal. His lips moved soundlessly, his voice no more than a ghost's whisper lost beneath the laughter.
"...You've shamed the family long enough, boy."
Then—he stood.
The motion was so sudden it sliced through the air. Some reporters turned, startled, just in time to see him raise a trembling hand holding a blackened spell card.
Okina's sharp senses flared instantly. The ancient goddess didn't hesitate. She raised her fan, the air rippling around her as a crimson door materialized from thin air. In a blink, she vanished—then reappeared between the press and the raised card. Her fan snapped open, releasing a wave of violet energy that expanded outward, forming a shimmering dome around the spectators.
"Barrier—up!" Okina's voice thundered.
Almost simultaneously, Yukari and Yuyuko moved into action. They flanked Emperor Naruhito with blinding speed, layers of spiritual wards bursting to life around the emperor's throne, their power humming like an electric storm.
The hall plunged into chaos. Screams filled the air, chairs scraped violently against marble, and cameras tumbled to the ground.
And in the middle of it all, Riku felt it—an instinct honed by battle, sharpened by the countless times he'd stood between danger and those he loved. His divine aura flared, eyes narrowing as he turned just in time to see Kouya's hand crackle with dark power.
The spell was already cast.
"Thunder Sign: Black Lightning Spear!"
The black lightning erupted from Kouya's palm like a spear forged from malice itself, crackling across the hall in a single instant. It wasn't aimed at Riku—it was heading straight for Rinko and his fiancées.
Riku's pupils contracted.
"RINKO—!"
His roar shook the air.
White dragon wings burst from his back with a thunderous crack, the feathers shimmering with divine brilliance. The pressure of his aura shattered the nearest windows as he surged forward, crossing the space between life and death in a single heartbeat.
The spear hit.
Riku slammed into it mid-flight, taking the full force into his chest. The world exploded in light and sound.
"Riku!!!" Rinko's voice tore through the chaos, raw with terror.
Kaguya immediately pulled her away, dragging Miyu, Eli, and Rei to safety while Rongrong leapt back beside them. Aichi reacted just as fast, sweeping his arm to protect Honoka, Kotori, and Umi, his sword drawn in a defensive stance.
The reporters froze, speechless, as the smell of smoke filled the air.
Riku was still standing—but the spear was tearing into him, black lightning coiling across his wings like venomous snakes. His muscles seized, his body trembling violently as arcs of power slammed against his divine aura. The white wings flickered, straining under the demonic current.
And then... a voice echoed from within.
[Compression Divide!]
The familiar call of Albion reverberated through the hall, and the light around Riku's wings intensified. The black lightning began to crumble, compressed and nullified piece by piece until the spear dissolved into harmless sparks.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Riku dropped to one knee, smoke rising from his clothes, chest heaving with each breath. His wings dimmed but didn't vanish—still radiant, still alive.
"Riku!"
A swirl of dark mist formed beside him, and Kuroka emerged, her golden eyes blazing. "You idiot, taking that head on... nya, hold still!"
Her hands glowed with green light as healing energy flowed over his wounds.
"I—I'm fine..." Riku coughed, a small smile twitching at his lips despite the pain. "That bastard really went for Rinko..."
Kuroka hissed. "Save your breath, nya. You'll need it."
Meanwhile, Kaguya had already manifested her Bow of Hourai, the elegant construct of light forming in her hands as she took aim. Aichi's Sword of Hisou gleamed orange, humming with divine power as he positioned himself between the girls and Kouya.
The great doors of the Imperial Hall slammed open.
Utsuho stormed in first, her cannon arm blazing with solar energy. "Get the hell away from him!" she barked, aiming squarely at Kouya.
Moments later, Marisa zipped in above the crowd, broom cutting through the air. "Oy, what kinda psycho move is that?!" she shouted, her Mini-Hakkero glowing dangerously.
Riku gritted his teeth, slowly pushing himself up as the healing continued. The faint scent of burnt ozone lingered in the air.
Emperor Naruhito rose from his throne, his expression hardened, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of rule. "Kouya Nagae—what is the meaning of this!?"
The room went silent. Even the reporters, still behind Okina's barrier, barely dared to breathe.
Kouya's eyes burned with conviction—or madness. Maybe both. He lowered his hand slowly, but the darkness swirling around him only grew stronger.
"For far too long," Kouya began, his tone dripping with disdain, "I've sat back and watched our kind—youkai—waste themselves fraternizing with mortals. Weakening our bloodline. Mocking the power the gods bestowed upon us."
His words carried across every broadcast, every livestream. The entire nation watched, horrified, as the mask of civility fell away from one of the most powerful figures in Japan's supernatural hierarchy.
He raised his hand again, black lightning crawling across his arm like living veins. "Humans are insects, feeding off our mercy. And you—" he pointed straight at Riku, "—are the symbol of that weakness. The boy who threw away his lineage for the love of mortals."
Riku spat a bit of blood onto the marble floor, eyes blazing. "You're calling me weak? You just attacked your own blood, you pathetic excuse of a man."
Kouya didn't even blink. "You wouldn't understand. This country—this entire land—is dying. The Sacred Goddess of the Backdoor herself spoke the truth. Japan rots under false peace, and the only cure is cleansing it of those who have forgotten who we are."
The press behind the barrier could only stare, horrified. Their hands trembled as they realized that the man they once respected was speaking of genocide.
Emperor Naruhito stepped forward, voice grave. "What do you mean, 'cleansing'?"
Kouya turned his gaze upon the emperor with cold finality. "It means the current leadership—your Celestial Families—must go."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The realization hit everyone at once. He wasn't just rebelling—he was declaring war.
"And I'm done waiting." Kouya's voice rose, dark energy flooding the hall. "It starts today!"
His aura erupted, black lightning engulfing him entirely, tearing through the marble floor as tendrils of shadow coiled around his body.
Kyoya—Riku's grandfather and the head of the Nagae Main Family—stepped forward. His expression was thunder itself.
"You dare..."
Violet lightning surged around him, clashing violently with the black storm that Kouya had unleashed. Sparks scattered across the hall, the air vibrating with divine pressure as two storms collided—darkness and light, corruption and purity.
Kouya's sneer deepened. "I dare, brother. Because someone has to cleanse our bloodline of weakness."
Kyoya's hand tightened around the lightning sword forming in his grasp. His aura expanded, shattering the floor beneath his feet as his rage broke free.
"Kouya..." His voice trembled with restrained fury. "You have gone too far."
The ground between them cracked as lightning filled the air once more—one black, one pure white—signaling that the storm was only just beginning.
Yuyuko held firm around the emperor, maintaining her barrier as the shockwave tore through the chamber. "He's really doing it..." she whispered.
Yukari clenched her fan tightly. "He's beyond reason now."
From the shadows, Okina watched silently, her eyes narrowing as her barrier shimmered under the pressure. The reporters inside huddled together, terrified but unable to look away. This wasn't just political anymore—this was a war between gods and monsters, broadcast to the world.
Riku groaned as he stood, still shaky but furious, Kuroka's healing barely keeping him stable. The anger in his eyes was burning brighter than ever.
"Kouya..." he growled, his voice low, trembling with power. "You dare raise a hand against my fiancées—against my family—in front of the emperor himself?"
Kouya turned toward him, eyes wild with madness. "You are no heir of Nagae! You are a disgrace! Corrupted by humans, blinded by weakness! I will restore the Nagae name—by purging the filth you've brought upon it!"
Riku's body flared with blinding light, the ground beneath him cracking as divine energy erupted outward. The faint echo of Albion's roar filled the air, rattling the stained glass windows.
Kaguya's bow glowed bright, her arrow already drawn. "If you move any closer, I'll shoot," she warned.
Utsuho took aim, her cannon humming with solar energy. "One more move and I'll vaporize you."
Kouya only laughed, dark and bitter. "You think you can stop me? You think a few children can defy destiny?"
The lightning in his body grew wilder, black tendrils lashing out like serpents.
Kyoya stepped forward again, voice like a blade. "I will not let you disgrace our name any further, Kouya!"
Fellow brothers faced one another—one cloaked in madness, the other burning with righteous fury. The divine energies in the hall began to swirl violently, splitting the air into light and shadow.
The Imperial Palace, once a symbol of peace and unity, now stood on the brink of war.
At the Ichigaya residence, a dull thud echoed through the living room. Kasumi's heart skipped. She turned sharply—Saaya had crumpled to the floor.
"Saaya!" Kasumi's voice cracked as she rushed to her side, her trembling hands trying to shake her friend awake.
"Saaya-chan! What happened?!" Rimi's panic joined hers, eyes wide with tears forming at the corners.
Arisa, quick-thinking despite the chaos, knelt beside Saaya and checked her pulse. After a tense moment, she exhaled, shoulders slumping in relief. "She just fainted," she murmured. "Her breathing's fine."
Kasumi let out a shaky breath but didn't relax. The TV was still flashing chaotic images—Riku standing against the torrent of dark lightning, his jersey torn, his body surrounded by the wild clash of powers.
"This is bad..." Tae said softly, her voice stripped of its usual carefree warmth. Her hands were clenched tightly on her knees. Even she could feel it—something was breaking in the world.
Kasumi's lips trembled as she leaned over Saaya, whispering through her fear.
"Senpai... please... be safe... Saaya needs you."
It wasn't just a plea—it was a prayer.
At the Mitake residence, the air was thick with dread. Ran's knuckles were white as she bit down on her thumb, eyes locked on the screen. The image of her brother writhing under a storm of black electricity burned into her mind.
"Damn it... nii-san..." she muttered, frustration laced with fear.
Moca sat on the couch, half-eaten bread still in her hand. "Onii-san really got hit hard~," she said in a daze, her usual lazy tone replaced by unease. Even she couldn't finish eating.
The entire house felt like it was holding its breath.
Across town at Purely Productions, the atmosphere was chaos. Pastel*Palettes were gathered in front of a tablet showing the live broadcast. Aya's scream came first—and then her body went limp, collapsing backward.
"Aya-chan! Hang in there, Aya-chan!" Hina cried, shaking her shoulders as Eve rushed to help, fanning her face.
"Onii-sama..." Chisato whispered, her usually composed eyes trembling with unspoken worry. She'd seen Riku withstand impossible odds before—but that bolt of black lightning wasn't normal. It was a curse disguised as power.
Even Maya, who often kept her calm, clenched her fists and muttered under her breath, "This is getting bad..."
Meanwhile, at the Imai residence, the members of Roselia sat frozen before the TV. None of them spoke for a long while. The broadcast replayed the moment when Riku stepped in front of the spear of black lightning—saving Rinko at the cost of his own body.
Lisa covered her mouth in horror. Ako's eyes welled up, trembling.
"Rin-Rin... will she be okay? I'm scared..."
Lisa pulled the young drummer into her arms, hugging her tight.
"Hey, hey, don't cry, Ako. Riku's tough, you know that."
Yukina's voice cut through the silence, calm but sharp with emotion. "Riku-san... Rinko..." Her eyes stayed fixed on the flickering screen.
Beside her, Sayo's arms were crossed but her fingers were digging into her sleeves. "This is the worst-case scenario," she muttered. Even her steady composure was cracking. The declaration from Nagae Kouya still echoed in their ears: the extermination of the Celestial Families.
It wasn't just an act of war—it was genocide.
Far from there, in the grand Tsurumaki mansion, chaos of a different kind erupted. The living room was drowning in darkness—literally. The shadows were pulsing, twisting, alive with raw emotion. Shinzo stood in the center of it, her aura flaring uncontrollably, her eyes burning with fury.
Seeing her brother struck down had ripped through every restraint she had.
"Nii..." she hissed, the words shaking as dark energy rippled outward, cracking the air.
Kokoro and the rest of Hello, Happy World! had backed into a corner, clutching each other tightly as the darkness spread across the walls like ink.
"Shinzo!" a deep voice barked. Their father, Youji Tsurumaki, stepped forward, calm but firm. He placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder—his touch steady, grounding.
"Dear, calm down. Riku is alright. Look," he said, pointing toward the screen.
Shinzo's trembling eased as she focused back on the broadcast—Riku was still standing, barely, but alive. His OG jersey was torn and burnt, his arm shaking, but he endured.
Her breathing slowed. The darkness began to fade, retreating back into her body like a shadow remembering its master.
Across the room, Misaki groaned, half-buried under a pile of cushions that had been thrown when the darkness first surged.
"Remind me to never get on Shinzo's nerves again..." she muttered.
Kanon, Hagumi, and Kaoru nodded simultaneously—too terrified to disagree.
At Chiyu's penthouse, Raise A Suilen's leader was already up and pacing furiously. Her phone was clutched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Fuck! I knew that old bastard would move today!" she snapped, slamming her hand against the table.
Masuki leaned back from the couch, eyes wide. "Oi! Chu²! Where are you going?!"
Chiyu ignored her, already dialing someone's number. Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with sheer anger. "Come on, pick up... pick up!"
The ringing tone stopped—and then the line went dead.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"...No..." she whispered, before rage took over again.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!"
She hurled the phone across the room, the device shattering against the wall as she slammed both palms flat beside it, trembling with frustration.
Masuki, Reona, and Rokka stayed still. They'd seen Chiyu furious before—but this? This was personal.
At Live House CiRCLE, Ichika's legs gave out as she dropped into a chair, her breath caught in her throat. The broadcast replayed Riku's collapse, and she felt her chest tighten until she could barely breathe.
"Owner-san..."
The other members of Leo/need stood in stunned silence. Saki reached for her hand, whispering words that sounded far away.
Then Shiho's phone vibrated—once, then again. She snatched it up. Her eyes darted across the screen, and her expression shattered.
"It's from Kiritani-senpai..." she said breathlessly. "Onee-chan lost consciousness?!"
"What?!" Ichika gasped, the last bit of color draining from her face.
Shiho was already standing, her chair scraping back. "I'm going to her!"
But before she could bolt, Marina appeared from behind the counter. Her expression was grave, but gentle.
"You girls can go," she said, nodding once. "I'll take care of things here."
Ichika and the others didn't hesitate. They grabbed their phones and bags and rushed out the door toward the Black Dragon Corporation headquarters.
Marina watched them go, exhaling softly before turning to the TV again. The feed showed smoke, lightning, and chaos—and she could only mutter, "Riku... what have you gotten yourself into this time..."
Half a world away, in Arlington, the global music scene had stopped. In one of the shared lounges, multiple international bands were huddled around a massive screen broadcasting the battle.
"Holy shit..." DM from Outsiders breathed, jaw slack. "Shit's really about to go down."
From the Gaimin Gladiators, Seleri leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "I hope Iku's alright... that kind of lightning—hell, it could kill a grown man instantly."
Johan, sitting in the corner, clenched his fists. "Riku... don't die on us, man. You still have so much to show the world."
No one spoke after that. Even the loudest personalities in the room fell quiet, the only sound the static hum of the broadcast and the dull murmur of reporters trying to make sense of what they were seeing.
It wasn't a concert anymore. It was the prelude to war.
And across the sea, in the heart of London, the storm had reached the halls of magi.
The British Museum, so ordinary to the human eye, hid within its walls something far more secret—the Clock Tower, the ancient and powerful heart of the Magus Association. Within its invisible chambers, old families and young prodigies alike were watching the same broadcast unfold, their faces lit by the glow of a massive scrying crystal.
"The eastern savages are finally turning on each other," one magus sneered, voice thick with arrogance.
Another chuckled darkly. "Perhaps it's time to intervene—cleanse them all while they're weak."
Their laughter filled the room until a sharp crack silenced them.
Lorelei Barthomeloi stood near the crystal, her gloved hand pressed against the edge of the desk. Her long brown hair was tied in a low ponytail that swayed as she turned her head slightly. Her crimson coat and white high-collared vest gleamed under the dim light—authoritative, commanding, unmistakable.
Her sapphire eyes were cold enough to freeze the room.
"Foolishness," she said simply, her voice calm but laced with venom. "To think the branch family has fallen this low. Looks like the young Nagae was right."
The others shifted uncomfortably. One of the elite magus finally dared to speak.
"Lord Barthomeloi... are you seriously mingling with these eastern barbarians?"
Lorelei's head turned—slowly, deliberately—and she leveled a glare that made the man flinch.
"Got a problem with that?" she said icily. "The boy bested me in combat years ago, if you must recall. And instead of ending me, he spared me. That alone earned my respect."
Her gaze softened for the briefest moment as she continued, "He's the only one alive who may call me by my name."
The room fell silent. They all remembered the story—how the proud Barthomeloi heir had crossed blades with a youkai prodigy from the East two years ago, and lost.
By the rules of the Association, Lorelei should've been executed for such humiliation. Yet Riku spared her—refusing to kill a defeated foe who had fought with honor.
That day, something in her changed.
To her, the eastern "savages" had always been mindless destroyers—until she faced Riku. He fought with discipline, with conviction, with mercy. And in that mercy, she found strength she hadn't seen even in the highest circles of magi.
"Still," one magus said timidly, "what's the Clock Tower's stance on this incident?"
Lorelei folded her arms, her coat shifting with the movement. "For now, we observe," she replied curtly. "There's an abnormal movement in Russia—something powerful, ancient. Until we confirm its origin, our hands are tied."
The magi exchanged uneasy glances. The "movement" she mentioned wasn't a small matter; it was a magical anomaly strong enough to draw even the Association's attention.
Lorelei leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing as she watched the scrying crystal again. The image flickered—Riku standing amid the chaos, battered but defiant. Lightning still danced around him like a crown of pain.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, quietly—almost tenderly—she whispered to herself,
"Nagae... don't die."
----------
Back at the Imperial Palace, Kaguya's Bow of Hourai trembled in her hands as the first of Kouya's recruits pressed in from the shadows. Aichi's grip tightened on the Sword of Hisou. Reiuji Utsuho's cannon clicked and whirred as her eye narrowed. Marisa hovered, Hakkero bright despite the tremor of the air. The room brimmed with lethal intent.
Kouya let them stew for just long enough to watch the panic settle like a cloak over the hall. Then he spoke — slow, cold, triumphant.
"You know, years ago I had allies who shared my ideals," he said. "Enough to do the dirty work for me. Shinomiya Oko was one of them."
The name landed like a stone. Cameras swivelled; the media leaned forward with hungry pens. Even Riku and Kyoya, standing shoulder to shoulder, snapped their heads to the same direction. Shinomiya—Shinomiya Oko—had always been a shadow in public affairs. The idea that he conspired with the Nagae Branch Family planted a chill through the palace.
"What does Oko gain from this? He isn't even a youkai," Riku spat.
Kouya's smile curled like a blade. "You are sorely mistaken. The Shinomiya bear youkai blood — diluted, yes, but present. Their mana circuits are weak, but they exist. I told Oko of my plan: to reclaim our rightful dominion. He agreed to help."
He let the implication hang, then struck.
"I ordered Oko to put the knife where it would hurt the most. He was to kill Nagae Miku and Nagae Richard. I ordered him to hire the Black Fang to take Hinanawi Tenshi as well."
Sound peeled through the hall. Some of the younger reporters made choking noises. Kyoya's face — usually a perfectly controlled mask — cracked. Riku felt the world tilt; a cold emptiness crawled under his skin. The branch family had been suspected, yes, but never had either of them imagined kin turned executioner.
Kouya's voice deepened, venomous. "It was meant to break you, Riku. Strip away hope. I expected you to fall apart and your grandfather to step down. That would return the Nagae to its proper strength. But plans go awry, don't they? Today, we will finish the job!"
At his cue, the darkness did not simply press at the edges of the hall — it poured in. Hundreds of rogue youkai spilled from cracks in the walls, from torn banners, from oubliettes of shadow no one would have believed possible. They pressed outward in a living tide, circling the family heads and blocking every exit.
Every head in the hall drew a spell card simultaneously, a glittering, coordinated flash of defiance. But then a new tear opened nearby — a portal with edges like jagged teeth — and figures stepped through in ranks.
They were pale and identical: black cloaks falling over narrow shoulders, skin like polished bone, hair like spilled ink, eyes a hard, metallic gold. Mechanized precision in humanoid form. And behind them, aloof and disdainful, strode a single man who did not wear a plain black cloak. His robe was dark violet, and his hair hung long and glossy, pierced by a single pale streak over his face. He walked with the sort of lazy grace that said power without shouting.
"You're late," Kouya spat without turning.
The man in violet laughed quietly. "Don't rush art, my friend. My master wanted this to be memorable." He lifted a hand in introduction. "I am Ephidel. These are my masters' creations — the Morphs. Artificial humans engineered to be twenty times stronger than the average human. I represent Lord Nergal's interests. My orders are simple: eliminate Nagae Riku. He is a problem."
A chill spread that the cameras could not hide. Nergal — the name itself carried foreign myth and dread. To have an emissary here, openly declaring a kill-order in the emperor's own hall, struck at the heart of decorum and sanity.
Emperor Naruhito, who had remained dignified and measured through every outrage, cocked his head. "You claim Riku is the 'key' to your master's plan. Explain yourself."
Ephidel's smile widened like a shadow swallowing light. "Yes. The Dragon God's power inside him is an engine — a catalyst. Once extracted, it will power certain projects my master dreams of. First, however, this annoying little display must be dealt with." He snapped his fingers and the very air of the palace shifted.
Violet light slithered across the ceiling, sank into the marble, and snapped like a cable through the wards Yukari and Okina had set. The thrum of Okina's crimson door stuttered — then collapsed, slamming shut on itself with a dying resonance. Yukari's fan flickered as her boundary-magic stuttered; Yuyuko's barrier around the emperor dissolved as if cut by some blunt, invisible blade.
"Ara—" Yuyuko's voice was a soft, stunned exclamation.
Okina's composure, usually a monolith of inscrutable calm, shuddered. "This is... impossible." Her wheelchair rocked, though her hands were steady.
Riku felt it like being plunged into cold water. The world's colors drained; his chest tightened. The advantage they'd relied on — the Celestial Families' ability to weave magic — had been blunted, muted, gutted. The protective domes, the divine constructs, the bindings and shields — gone. Only bare metal, muscle, and will remained.
"Damn it," Riku breathed. "An anti-magic field."
Faces fell pale as the meaning spread. The Morphs' arrival had not been a simple reinforcement; it was an engineered countermeasure. If Ephidel's device could remove, suppress, or nullify magic as he claimed, then the Celestial Families were suddenly sitting ducks in their own court.
Kaguya's bow shimmering into being flickered like a mirage, thinning to nothing. Aichi's sword, forged with celestial temper, lost the faint glow that had lent it godlike edge — though the blade remained real, heavy, and sharp. Utsuho's cannon hummed and then ground to a hesitant silence; Marisa's Mini-Hakkero guttered before flaring with an unstable cough. Some weapons had a physical basis and remained serviceable; other components derived purely from mana sputtered out like a lamp with no oil.
"Riku, you're okay now?" Kuroka asked as she crouched beside him, her hands steadying his shoulders while his breath came out in slow, ragged bursts. His clothes were torn, his eyes weary, but there was something unbroken in his gaze.
"I'm fine, Kuroka... just fine..." he murmured, exhaling shakily. The words sounded hollow even to his own ears. He wasn't fine. How could he be, after hearing that Kouya—the man who once shared the same bloodline—had orchestrated the deaths of his parents and best friend? Beneath his calm tone, fury burned like molten steel, waiting for release.
Aichi approached, his grip tightening around the hilt of the Sword of Hisou. "Riku, what're we going to do now? Without magic, we're good as dead. I can fight with the sword, sure—but aside from Byakuren-sama, Youmu, Yori-nee, and the oni, we're outnumbered."
Riku's expression sharpened into resolve. "I have one way," he said firmly. His eyes darted toward the family heads. "But first... Yukari-san, Yuyuko-san, Okina-sama. Evacuate everyone aside from me, Aichi, Kuroka, Rongrong, Youmu, Byakuren-sama, Kasen-san, Yuugi, Suika, and Yori-nee. We're the only ones capable of fighting without magic."
The order stunned them. Yuyuko blinked, while Okina's lips parted in disbelief. Reimu grabbed Riku by the collar before the others could react.
"What are you saying, Riku?! You're the target here!" she snapped. Her tone trembled between anger and fear.
"I know," Riku said quietly, locking eyes with her. "But aside from the rest, only I have the power to take out most of them. They don't know about the Sacred Gear... or my Martial Soul."
He whispered those last words, and Reimu froze. The realization sank in for her and the other family heads—Riku still had one card left to play. Reimu's grip softened. After a moment's silence, she placed her hand gently on his head.
"Alright... we'll leave the rest to you," she said reluctantly. "But we'll need people to protect us while we retreat."
"Youmu, Yuugi, Suika," Riku said, turning toward them.
The silver-haired swordswoman nodded immediately, gripping the Hakurouken tightly. "We'll protect the civilians—including Rinko-san and the others."
"You can count on us," Yuugi said, cracking her knuckles with a grin that masked her unease. "I'd rather fight, but someone's gotta make sure those bastards don't touch the innocent."
"Don't worry, we'll keep them safe!" Suika added with her usual fiery confidence.
Byakuren then stepped forward, her tone resolute. "Shou, you go with the civilians and assist them."
"Understood, Byakuren-sama." The avatar of Bishamonten gave a brief bow before sprinting off toward the evacuating crowd.
Meanwhile, Mai and Satono had turned Okina's wheelchair to manual mode, straining as they pushed her forward. Normally, Okina used magic to maneuver, but now, with the anti-magic field suffocating the air, she could only rely on them.
Even without their magic, the Celestial Families were far from helpless. Eirin's eyes glowed faintly as she analyzed the enemy's movements; Yorihime's blade shimmered faintly under the palace lights. Only a handful—Satori, Okina, Marisa, Kaguya, and Eirin—were truly vulnerable, but the rest still had centuries of combat instinct to fall back on. Yet the real threat wasn't the rogue youkai—it was the Morphs.
Rinko rushed toward Riku, her voice trembling as she reached for his arm. "Riku, are you in good condition to fight?"
Riku turned toward her, and for a moment, the exhaustion faded from his eyes. "I'm fine, Rinko. Kuroka patched me up." He forced a small smile. "And don't worry—I won't die. I promise. I'll come back for all of you."
Rinko bit her lip, tears spilling over as Eli, Miyu, and Rei joined her. They didn't say anything—just nodded, trusting his words even when fear told them otherwise. As they turned to follow Youmu, Riku's gaze lingered on them a moment longer. They were his anchor... his reason to stand and fight.
Nearby, Yukari addressed the panicked media crews, her voice commanding yet calm. "We need to get His Majesty and the media out of here. We're very sorry, but you cannot record this."
The reporters exchanged nervous glances, but none dared argue. The sight of so many powerful figures standing ready—even powerless—was enough reassurance. Cameras lowered, and they followed the imperial guards toward the exit, their hearts pounding at the gravity of what was unfolding behind them.
When the doors sealed shut, silence reigned for a brief, fleeting second. Only Riku's measured breathing could be heard as he rose to his full height. Beside him stood Aichi, Yorihime, Byakuren, Kasen, Rongrong, Kuroka, Suika, Yuugi, and the others who had chosen to stay. The faint light from the destroyed chandeliers flickered across their faces—scarred, determined, and utterly unyielding.
Across the hall, Kouya stood smirking, flanked by Ephidel and the horde of Morphs that filled the vast chamber like a tide of shadows. Their golden eyes glowed faintly in the violet-tinted air, unblinking, unnatural.
"So, Riku," Yorihime asked, her voice low but steady. "What's your plan?"
Riku didn't answer immediately. He simply exhaled, stretching his right hand to the side. A deep, resonant hum filled the hall as the air distorted—and then, with a thunderous impact, a massive weapon materialized beside him. The Destroyer, in its cannon form, slammed against the marble floor, the recoil sending faint shockwaves rippling through the ground.
Gasps echoed across the room. Kouya's confident smirk faltered. "Well now, looks like you got yourself a new toy," he mocked, trying to mask his unease. "But what will that toy of yours do?"
That was the last thing he should have said.
Riku lifted his head. His eyes—once calm—now burned with unrestrained killing intent. The rage he had buried since his parents' deaths finally surfaced, coiling around him like a storm ready to break.
"Balance..." he began, his voice dropping into a growl that seemed to shake the air itself. "Break."
The words reverberated across the ruined chamber, and then Albion's voice erupted like a divine roar.
[Vanishing Dragon! BALANCE BREAKER!!!]
A radiant red Spirit Ring appeared in front of the Destroyer, its circle spinning rapidly before releasing a blinding surge of energy. The entire hall was engulfed in light. Windows shattered. The marble floor cracked beneath the sheer force of it.
When the light faded, the figure standing at its center was no longer the battered young man from moments ago—it was a being of power incarnate.
Riku's armor gleamed in brilliant white, streaked with luminous blue and cyan lines that pulsed like living veins. The design was flawless, a seamless blend of celestial divinity and cutting-edge technology. His helmet, crowned by sharp angular crests, resembled a dragon's head adorned with a glowing gem. The chestplate housed a pulsing core of blue light, each beat syncing with his heart.
Broad pauldrons framed his shoulders like folded wings, while his gauntlets emitted faint arcs of electricity that danced across the room. The reinforced plating along his legs shimmered faintly, the embedded thrusters at his heels glowing like twin embers. A long white cape, lined in deep violet and trimmed with gold, billowed behind him. Upon it, the insignia of a stylized dragon marked his lineage and strength.
The Heavenly Dividing: Scale Mail had awakened.
Kouya's eyes widened in horror. Ephidel stumbled back a step, his smirk gone. The Morphs twitched as if momentarily disoriented by the overwhelming aura emanating from Riku.
Riku raised his gaze, meeting Kouya's eyes through the blinding light. "You asked what my new toy could do?" he said, his voice cold and resonant. "This is my answer."
He clenched his fist, and the energy lines across his armor flared, flooding the room with azure brilliance. "Heavenly Dividing—Scale Mail!"
The moment those words left his lips, something inside everyone snapped into place. Hope—sharp, burning, desperate—ignited across the battlefield.
Rongrong stepped forward, her Nine Glazed Tile Pagoda manifesting above her palm, surrounded by eight spinning Spirit Rings that glowed in harmony. Her voice carried confidence once more. "Spirit Power is unaffected by the anti-magic field. They'll regret underestimating us."
Byakuren and Kasen exchanged a brief glance before assuming their combat stances—veteran fighters ready for close-quarters combat. The faint hum of spiritual energy surrounded them like a second skin.
Aichi unsheathed his sword fully, the metallic whisper of the blade echoing through the air. "Magic or not," he said, "I can still cut down anyone standing in our way."
Beside him, Yorihime's expression was serene, her every motion precise and lethal. "We fight with what remains—our resolve."
Kuroka cracked her knuckles and flicked her tail once. "Heh... I guess I'll have to show them what real Senjutsu looks like."
The enemy's forces shifted uneasily. The Morphs' gold eyes flickered; the rogue youkai growled lowly, circling like wolves sensing danger. Kouya gritted his teeth, the smug composure he once held now replaced by something else—fear.
Despite being surrounded, Riku and his allies stood unbroken, a small circle of defiance against an army born from darkness. The floor trembled as rogue youkai snarled and Morphs raised their weapons.
Riku's voice cut through the growing noise, deep and unwavering. "This is your only chance, Nagae Kouya." His glare pierced the air like a blade. "Surrender immediately—and I'll make sure you die quickly."
The statement silenced even his allies. Aichi and Rongrong exchanged concerned glances; Byakuren's eyes softened briefly, catching the shift in Riku's tone. It wasn't rage alone that drove him now—it was grief, raw and consuming, barely restrained beneath the steel of his words.
But there was no time for hesitation. The air thickened as the first Morph moved—a twitch, a growl—and then chaos erupted.
Sparks of light flared as the remaining warriors braced for battle, each one stepping into position behind Riku. The fate of Japan—and the entire supernatural world—rested on the next few moments.
Riku leveled the Destroyer, its barrel humming with growing energy. "All units," he said, voice low but resolute. "Engage."
And as the tide of darkness surged toward them, the hall was filled with the clash of destiny—the war of gods and mortals set to determine the future of both realms.
To be Continued...