Axel turned the corner, and there it was. There was no possible way he could miss it — a signboard sticking out of the rugged roof: a devil's face holding a fork over the words "Devil's Kitchen."
He looked around. No other Devil's Kitchen in sight.
"Guess it's here," he muttered as he pushed the door open, a ringing bell announcing his presence.
Axel paused. He looked up, a small contraption was attached above the door, designed to ring automatically every time it opened.
And draw everyone's attention to you, for sure, he thought, feeling the weight of the gazes that instantly fell on him, examining him like some lab specimen. The sudden silence didn't help.
He cleared his throat and straightened up with false bravado, his hand tightening subconsciously around the katana. Then, calmly, he walked toward an empty table at the far end of the restaurant, each step echoing loudly against the tiled floor, amplified due to the silence.
He could feel their eyes trailing him. Heat crawled up his neck; a cold bead of sweat slid down his temple. He kept his gaze straight, fixed on the dartboard hanging at the back wall, trying to ignore the suffocating quiet.
Finally, he sat down, exhaled, and muttered, Calm down, buddy.
When he looked up, his gaze locked with a rugged man, a deep scar ran diagonally across the stranger's face. Axel smirked and nodded in a what's up manner, though panic twisted in his chest.
The man glared at him for a long second, then scoffed and turned back to his drink. The tension shattered as he slammed his cup on the table, conversation resuming around them.
Axel leaned back in relief, eyes roaming the restaurant — or tavern, he couldn't quite tell.
It had booths like a diner, lined along the left wall, but to the right stood a long counter crowded with patrons. Behind it, a rack displayed rows of drinks — whiskey, bourbon, and others he didn't recognize. A barrel with a tap dripped a golden liquid into a glass.
A chalkboard hung beside it, covered in messy handwriting and half-torn posters like the one at Hermes' place.
The smell of curry, something roasted, and booze filled the air, accompanied by the faint hiss of frying from behind the counter.
Not what he expected, but surprisingly clean — another shock, considering the type of crowd hanging around here.
He nodded in approval and waited for a waiter.
The doorbell chimed again. A pale hand pushed the door open, the owner following, still in the oversized Lakers jersey, Amy.
She stepped in and paused, her pale skin catching the dim light like porcelain. For a second, she seemed to glow. Curious glances flickered her way, then faded. The contrast to how they'd stared at him wasn't lost on Axel.
Amy scanned the room, spotted him, and walked over. Her eyes were as stern as before, borderline scary, even though her slight frame didn't quite match the aura. Still, chills pricked his skin.
She slouched into the chair opposite him and looked up. "You order anything yet?"
"No, waiting for a waiter," Axel said with a polite smile.
She shook her head but stayed silent, gaze wandering toward the ceiling.
I hate awkward silence, Axel grimaced inwardly. But she doesn't look like the chatty type, unlike Hermes.
And I feel this is all your fault, Serif, you bastard.
"You like Lakers?" Axel finally asked, nodding toward her jersey.
Amy glanced down, then back at him. "Not really." She answered, her tone dismissive.
Axel nodded. "What's the st—" He stopped as she glared at him.
"Jeez," he muttered, looking away. Serif, I hope you choke.
"You friends with Serif?" she asked suddenly.
"Nah, that douchebag? Barely know the guy," Axel said, waving it off. "Met him just yesterday. He's just tagging along for this, I guess." He gestured toward the katana.
Amy's eyes lingered on the weapon before she sighed, her expression softening. "Sorry about all that," she said, her voice quieter.
"It's just… I can't stand people like him."
Axel chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed. One day with him and I already can't stand the guy's blank face. But hey, I'm not like him, alright? I do hope I'm not guilty by association."
Amy smiled faintly. "Don't worry, I'm not that shallow."
"So if you're not a Lakers fan, what's with the jersey?" he asked, leaning forward, trying to get comfortable, better not to talk about Serif.
She pinched the fabric, smiling. "Just a fashion choice. Nothing sentimental."
Yeah, right, Axel thought. That smile says otherwise.
"Well, it's unique," he said. "And the hair, part of the package?"
She raised a brow.
"No, it's cool! Definitely doesn't give off that emo Vi, dangerous-girl vibe."
Amy smirked. "Is that so? Because that's exactly what I was going for."
"Oh, dangerous girl, huh?" Axel grinned. "Guess I better watch my back."
"To certain people," she said, twirling her braid absently.
"But man, the customer service here sucks," Axel muttered.
"That's Devil's Kitchen for you," she said aloud, earning a few laughs from nearby patrons.
The old man behind the counter glared. "Not as much as the delivery service that does no delivery," he shot back, prompting another round of laughter.
"At least the red devil still gets customers," someone added.
"And we all know why," another chimed in, mugs raised.
Amy rolled her eyes. "Douchebags." Then she turned to Axel. "What'll you have?"
"They serve regular food here? Or…" Axel trailed off, narrowing his eyes.
"Or what?" Amy asked.
"I'll just have what you're having."
She raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
Axel nodded, arms folded.
"Alright then," she said with a grin. "Hey, old man! Two servings of the usual — and…" she hesitated, "add the special."
The old man's grin widened. "Coming right up."
Axel blinked. "I should probably mention… this is all I've got." He placed the bills Hermes had given him on the table.
Amy's eyes widened. "That stingy old man gave you that much?" she whispered. "You sure this isn't from Serif?"
Stingy? Then this must be a lot then, but why would someone with a stingy reputation give me this much? I don't believe it's out of the benevolence of his heart, Axel thought warily.
"Nah, it's from him. Said I should get something to eat."
Amy sighed, then smirked — a grin that sent a shiver down his spine. "Well, since he gave that much…" She turned toward the counter. "Old man! Bring out the extra special!"
The restaurant went silent. Someone even whistled. Axel froze as greedy, envious eyes turned their way.
The old man burst into laughter. "Trying to impress him, eh?" he said, heading toward the back.
"What's the extra special?" Axel asked warily.
"You'll see," Amy replied, grinning.
Axel took out one of the bills, inspecting it. It felt smoother than paper — flexible, almost metallic, snapping back when he tried to fold it. The color was deep blue, with a darker border running along the edges. In the center, a circle enclosed what looked like a falling star, from which delicate crack-like designs spread.
"It's a meteorite," Amy said suddenly, pointing to the center. "The Zvezdan Meteorite. Foundation of Anima society."
Zvezdan meteorite… so it's not an earthly resource after all, Axel mused.
"Zvezdan — the metal used to make Anima?" he asked.
Amy leaned back. "That's the thing… if it's a metal at all."
"It's not?"
"Well, it's… unique," she said. "It can exist in multiple forms."
Axel frowned, that doesn't seem weird, "Other metals also exist in various forms, do you find that weird?" He asked with a confused tone.
Amy looked at him and chuckled, "that's right, let me clarify," she leaned in, "It can exist in multiple forms at the same temperature, with no clear trigger. We've studied it for centuries — every time we think we've figured it out, it proves us wrong." She tilted her head. "Sound normal to you?"
Axel chuckled. "When you put it like that? Definitely not."
He paused. "Wait, centuries?"
"Yeah," she said, rubbing her hands as the waiter dropped their food.
Axel frowned. "How long have Anima existed?"
Amy bit into her burger. "Since… about t..thousand."
Axel blinked. "Ten thousand… years?"
She swallowed. "No, about three thousand years. That's just the estimate."
The burger nearly slipped from his hands. "They've been around that long? And hidden all this time?"
That's not possible.
"They weren't hidden back then," Amy said. "Back then, Anima determined world power. Wars up to Alessan the great conquerer's time were fought with Anima users. Why do you think there are myths of heroes, beings with supernatural abilities, Hertho, Zenva, Sun Dhilong? They were probably just weilders."
She grinned. "You should try your burger."
Axel ignored her. "So what happened?"
"The Council happened," she said, her tone turning grim. "Some say they discovered something, aliens who mastered Zvezdan, a threat humanity wasn't ready for. So the Council decided to control things from the shadows, train users, and keep the planet quiet."
She took a sip of her drink. "It's just a rumor, though. I don't buy it."
Aliens, huh? Axel frowned. Still doesn't explain why they'd hide. Unless… the Anima itself acts like a beacon. He shook the thought off. No, that doesn't add up. Not after how unrestrained he had seen some people use it.
He sighed and set the burger down.
Something's off about all this, something fishy… but it's not my problem.
"So," he said finally, placing the katana on the table, "what can you tell me about this?"
He looked up, his brow lifting as he saw Amy, her cheeks were now tinted a deep red, a sharp contrast against her pale skin.