The demon let out a deep, animalistic howl—so raw and piercing it rattled the broken windowpanes and echoed down the corridor like a death knell. Its claws scraped wildly at its own face, digging in with blind rage as it yanked the blade from its ruined eye. The metal came free with a wet squelch, glinting slick and red before it clattered onto the floorboards with a sharp clang.
The creature swayed on its feet, hunched and twitching. Blood poured from the hollow socket—thick and dark, turning from deep crimson to an oily black as it spilled down its cheek. The droplets hit the rotting floor and sizzled on contact, smoke curling up like steam.
Then, slowly, impossibly, the eye began to regenerate.
A horrible, meaty sound filled the room as tissue stretched and twitched. A pulsing orb began to take shape, veiny and raw. It wasn't a clean regrowth—scar tissue bloomed like a rash across the left side of its face, leaving it grotesquely marred. The eyelids fluttered and jerked around the newly formed eye, which was still leaking blood, its sclera stained with fire-red vessels like lightning under glass.
The demon's expression shifted—not just pain now, but fury. And worse—humiliation.
"Shit... you just don't quit, do you?" a dry voice muttered.
From the shadows, Aki stepped into view. The broken overhead light buzzed and flickered above him, casting harsh white stutters across his lean frame. One knife clamped casually between his teeth, three more in his left hand, and a small syringe glinting in his right. His face was calm, almost bored, but there was tension in the way his eyes narrowed—sharp and calculating.
He moved toward Obi, who was slumped against the wall, one leg stretched out stiffly, the other bent awkwardly. Blood trickled down his shoulder and dripped from his fingertips, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.
Aki knelt down beside him without a word.
"Don't move," he said, voice low.
Then he jammed the syringe into Obi's shoulder without warning.
"Agh—what the hell, man?!" Obi snapped, jerking in pain.
Aki didn't flinch. "Stop whining."
"Is that even medicine?"
"Depends," Aki said flatly. "On how much you plan to piss me off."
Obi glared, sweat beading down his temple. "Aren't you the guy who said you weren't here to help me?"
Aki gave a long-suffering sigh and pulled the syringe free. "Coagulant. Slows the bleeding, numbs the nerves. You'll live—if you don't do anything else stupid."
Then, without even looking, Aki flicked his wrist and sent one of his knives flying across the room. It spun once in the air and thunked deep into the demon's bicep just as it lunged. The creature howled again, stumbling back and clutching its arm.
Obi stared, still wheezing. "You're… not normal."
Aki cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "I'm Aki. Scout with the Eclipse Division. My job is recon, not playing hero. I track demons, stall 'em, and wait for someone higher up to come do the real work."
His gaze shifted to Obi—dry, annoyed, and just a touch accusatory.
"But instead of hiding or following directions, you jumped in and got yourself torn up. So now I'm stuck cleaning up your mess."
Obi tried to sit up straighter, jaw clenched. "She was screaming. I didn't have time to wait."
Aki snorted. "Right. And now you're bleeding on the floor while she's unconscious. Great plan."
Another roar rang out as the demon flung a piece of broken furniture across the room. Aki stood smoothly, spinning another knife between his fingers.
"You sit tight and keep breathing. I'll try not to die buying you more time."
He flashed Obi a crooked, fox-like grin—equal parts smug and razor-sharp.
"Try not to pass out. I hate carrying people."
---
The demon thrashed violently, limbs twitching and convulsing like a marionette with its strings cut. One of its eyes still oozed thick, dark blood, trailing down its face like ink. Its claws scraped against the ground, tremoring.
"What… did you do to me?" it rasped, voice broken and glitching like a radio caught between stations. The sound was both human and not—metallic, wet, and dissonant. It staggered a step forward, then jerked back, its movements no longer fluid but stuttering and twitchy.
Aki stood a few paces away, flipping a blood-slicked knife in his hand with casual precision, as if he wasn't covered in bruises and flecks of ash.
"I poisoned you," he said with a cocky grin, his tone light but cutting. He twirled the blade once more and caught it between two fingers. "Every knife I carry is laced with a cocktail of toxins. Custom made. Tailored for freaks like you."
The demon growled low, the sound vibrating in its chest like a revving engine.
"Feel it yet?" Aki continued, voice rising over the growl. "The rot creeping under your skin? That sharp stab in your head like someone jabbing a flaming arrow straight into your brain—over and over again?" He tilted his head. "Even your regeneration's slowing down, isn't it? Healing's getting… annoying?"
The demon let out a deep, guttural roar—then screamed.
The sound detonated into a deafening sonic boom, a wave of force that split the air like a grenade. The walls cracked and splintered, pipes burst, and Obi dropped to the ground, clutching his ears with a cry. The noise was blinding, overwhelming, like the universe itself was shrieking into his skull.
But Aki didn't flinch.
He moved. Fast.
In a single, fluid motion, he snapped his arms up, crossing two knives midair into a precise X-shape. The blades caught the light, flared briefly—then he flung them.
But the demon, despite its faltering coordination, screamed again—this time upward. The high-frequency blast ricocheted the knives off-course, embedding them harmlessly into the walls.
"Tch," Aki clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. "You're really trying to be annoying, huh?"
The demon lunged.
In a blur, it was on him, catching Aki mid-throw just as he reached for another blade. A clawed hand whipped out to strike—but Aki ducked, barely slipping under the blow, gritting his teeth as the wind from the swing grazed his face.
The demon's grin widened—giddy, wild. It could smell blood. It raised its arm again.
Then—
CRACK!
Obi, charging in from behind, slammed his metal bat straight into the demon's back with every ounce of strength he had. The impact echoed like a thunderclap. The demon stumbled, snarling, and twisted—but Aki was already moving.
Freed from the demon's grip, he slipped beneath its guard and plunged knife after knife into its flesh with ruthless efficiency.
One blade sank deep into the demon's remaining eye. It screamed.
Another knife—then another—punched into its chest. Three quick jabs. One in each shoulder. One embedded in its thigh. A few slashed across its forearms, pinning down muscle and tendon. Each wound sizzled faintly, the poison burrowing deeper.
The demon collapsed to its knees, letting out a choked, ragged scream. Blood poured from its body, but something was wrong with it now—no longer crimson, but black. Oily. Thick. Corrupted.
Veins bulged under its skin, turning dark and snaking outward like cracks in glass.
It tried to stand—but trembled, falling forward with a sickening thud as it coughed up chunks of blood and bile, staining the floor with a foul, tar-like pool.
Its breath came in shallow gasps. Its muscles twitched uselessly.
Obi stood frozen, watching the demon crumple to its knees, its body jerking in short, spasmodic bursts. Blood streamed from its many wounds, thick and dark, already turning black where Aki's poisoned blades had sunk in. The veins around its eyes and neck bulged, spider-webbing in sickly patterns beneath its skin. Its breaths came wet and ragged, like it was drowning from the inside out.
"…This is brutal," he muttered quietly, a pang of sympathy flickering in his chest. Despite everything, despite the carnage—there was something almost human in the demon's suffering.
His voice cracked as he said it—barely more than a whisper—but the weight behind the words hung in the air like smoke. There was pity there. Or maybe guilt. Obi couldn't tell which.
Without a word, Aki tossed something toward him.
Clink.
Two knives slid across the floor, stopping at Obi's feet. Their blades glinted under the cracked lights, still stained with demon blood.
Obi looked down at them, then back up at Aki.
"I need you to finish it," Aki said. His voice was rough, but steady.
"What?" Obi blinked, his heart thudding in his ears.
Aki stepped closer, one hand pressing against his side where blood leaked through his jacket. "Listen carefully. Demons have something inside them called a core. It's like… a small sphere of rainbow-colored flesh. Think of it as their heart, but worse. You don't destroy that, they don't die. They'll keep coming back no matter what we do."
Obi stared at him. "You're serious."
"You wanted to help, right?" Aki met his eyes, unflinching despite the blood trickling from his nose. "This is how."
Obi didn't respond. His fingers hovered near the knives. His mind raced.
Could I actually do it?
Could I kill someone… even if they're a demon?
His thoughts blurred. He saw Kanou's face—his sister—snarling, feral, but with tears in her eyes. That night in the basement, her voice trembling as she begged for forgiveness after regaining her mind.
She hadn't been in control. But this demon… this one was completely aware. He chose this. Chose the pain.
Obi's jaw tightened. He nodded.
"I'll cover you," Aki said, flipping another blade into his hand.
Obi scooped up the knives and ran, boots pounding against the cracked floor as Aki launched another volley of blades. They cut through the air in sharp, precise arcs, peppering the demon's limbs and torso to pin it down.
The demon was kneeling now, head lowered, one eye half-lidded and hazy with pain. His claws scraped against the floor in a trembling grip. He looked up—slowly, weakly—and saw Obi charging toward him.
Panic flickered across the demon's face. His lips curled. Not yet. Not like this.
I don't want to die, he thought. Not here… not like this. I still have things I need to do. People I need to see. I was promised—
He gritted his teeth. His broken body trembled, and just as Obi leapt forward to strike—
The demon screamed.
But this was no ordinary scream. It wasn't sound—it was force. A blast of sonic energy exploded from the demon's throat, so loud and concentrated it shattered the windows, cracked the walls, and sent a hole straight through the ceiling. Obi was thrown back like a ragdoll, smashing into the windowsill.
Aki flew in the opposite direction, crashing hard into the concrete wall.
CRACK.
A sickening crunch echoed as he hit. He slumped to the ground, blood trickling from his ears and nose. One eye fluttered open.
"Ribs… cracked," Aki rasped with a strained grin. "That's new…"
Obi groaned, pushing himself up on trembling arms. His ears rang violently—everything sounded distant and underwater. Blood seeped from both ears. His earlier wounds had reopened. His bat was gone.
"You still breathing?" he called out, voice hoarse.
Aki spat blood, forcing himself onto one knee. "Barely. Don't get cocky."
The demon rose from the cratered floor slowly, now more beast than man. The twisted veins still crawled across his skin. His breaths came in snarls and gasps. But his eye locked onto them with murderous intent.
"I'm going to tear you both apart," he growled, voice rasping like metal dragged on stone. "Open you like fruit. Rip your spines out and use them as toothpicks."
Aki wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand and smirked. "You talk too much…"
Just then, the air shifted.
The temperature in the room dropped like a stone, so fast and sharp that Obi could see his own breath fogging in front of him. A biting chill seeped into his skin, threading down to the marrow. The ground beneath them gave a low, subtle tremble—not from footsteps, but from presence.
Something had entered.
The demon froze mid-step. Its snarling expression faltered, pupils shrinking into pinpricks. Obi felt every hair on his body stand upright. His heart skipped a beat. A dense, crushing pressure swept through the room, drowning them in an invisible tide—suffocating, ancient, and cold as death.
From the shattered hole in the wall, a figure emerged.
He stepped through the broken edge like it wasn't even there, parting the thin fog that had begun to creep in. He looked young—early twenties, maybe—but the look on his face made him feel older than time. His spiky brown hair faded into white at the tips, silver strands catching the flickering light. His eyes glowed an eerie, crystalline blue, lit from within like frost under moonlight.
He wore black trousers, a white hooded jacket layered over a dark shirt and wore pristine white gloves and slung over his shoulder was a long, narrow bag. It wasn't hard to guess it held something dangerous.
The man didn't speak right away. He didn't have to.
Aki coughed into his arm, blood spattering across the floor. He looked up at the figure and smirked despite the pain.
"Yo, demon…" he rasped, wiping blood from his mouth.
"You're cooked."
Obi turned slowly, as if afraid to move too fast. His legs felt like jelly. Even the demon—still trembling with poison and fury—took a step back.
The figure didn't spare Obi or Aki a glance. His attention was locked on the demon.
"For a scout," he said coolly, his voice smooth but cold as ice, "you didn't completely disappoint on your first mission."
Obi blinked. Was he talking to Aki?
The man's expression didn't shift. But then—he turned slightly, facing the demon head-on. His aura twisted. What had once been pressure became bloodlust. Pure, suffocating intent.
The demon's bravado melted instantly. Its breath hitched. One foot slid back, instinctively trying to retreat.
The man dropped from the hole to the floor with hardly a sound, landing directly in front of the demon. Up close, his presence was worse—like standing in front of a silent, waiting abyss.
He stared into the demon's remaining eye with a gaze void of warmth, void of mercy.
"You're not walking out of this room," he said, voice low, emotionless.
"And before you die, I'll make sure you feel every ounce of pain you've inflicted—on my brother…"
He tilted his head slightly toward Aki, who was still kneeling, bloodied but grinning.
"…and on every human you tortured and slaughtered."
The demon stuttered, a guttural noise caught in its throat. Its claws twitched. But its body betrayed it—shaking, slow, poisoned, and terrified.
Obi didn't know who this man was.
But right now, he was death.