Anastasia swirled her drink slowly as she sat in the softly lit lounge, the music playing filled the air with comforting melodies. She glanced casually, then with increasing frequency, toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. Kenji had been gone for a while now, longer than a quick trip to the men's room should take.
A faint frown touched her lips, and a familiar knot of apprehension began to tighten in her stomach. Disappointment, a feeling she knew all too well from years past, threatened to creep in, whispering doubts. Had he just… left? Was this another one of his old disappearances, a sudden, inexplicable vanishing act that would leave her once again alone and heartbroken?
She picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before she typed a quick message, trying to keep her tone light, almost casual, to mask the growing concern.
[Anastasia]: You okay? Been a bit. Everything alright?
The reply came a few seconds later, almost immediately, assuaging some of her immediate fears, but not entirely.
[Kenji]: Yeah, sorry. Be back in a few minutes. Nothing's wrong, just sorting something out. Enjoy the music for a bit. :)
She stared at the screen, lips pursed, the casual emoji doing little to fully reassure her. Sorting something out? That was vague, unsettlingly so, especially given Kenji's recent changes and the mysterious aura that sometimes clung to him.
Something still felt off, a subtle tension in the air she couldn't quite pinpoint, a dissonance with the music and the relaxed atmosphere. But she forced herself to push it aside, to quell the rising tide of suspicion.
Tonight was supposed to be special, a rekindling of their lost connection. She wasn't going to ruin it by overthinking or succumbing to old anxieties that plagued her from his past behavior. She took a deep breath, clutching her glass tighter, and tried to focus on the smooth melody.
Kenji stood in the alley, his posture coiled, eyes sharp and cold, facing down the group of yokai. There had been no doubt, they were here for him, specifically. He had already used Observation to assess them, instantly confirming their hostile intent and identifying their ranks.
It was their hostile intent that had given them away when he was with Anastasia, they had set off his danger sense.
He had immediately slipped out of the club, leaving Anastasia to the music, so he could deal with them quickly and return to his date before she even truly noticed his absence, minimizing the disruption to their precious evening.
He'd desperately hoped they hadn't spotted his wife. The mere thought sent a wave of chilling, protective fury through him. Their fate was sealed the moment they followed him and his wife.
Standing at the forefront was Omiji, the burly, High-Mid Class yokai whose scarred visage suggested a long, brutal history of violence and who was no doubt the leader. His aura was thick with malevolence.
Behind him were two other Mid-Class yokai, their forms slightly less imposing but still radiating significant power, and six High-Low Class ones, mere cannon fodder in the grand scheme but still dangerous in their combined numbers and desperate aggression.
Kenji's own Tier 8 power technically registered as Mid-Class, placing him in the same general tier as Omiji just lower than the oni, but his enchanted gear, his specialized rings, bands, and shoes, had already pushed his strength, speed, and defensive capabilities well above his base stats, granting him a significant, almost unfair, combat advantage.
Enchantment magic was Op.
Omiji stepped forward, his massive frame casting an intimidating shadow, mouth opening, no doubt ready to launch into a typical villainous monologue about human insolence or yokai superiority, perhaps a boast about their notorious Flesh Rippers Gang and their blood-soaked ambitions.
Kenji didn't wait. There was no time for monologues, no patience for empty threats, no room for theatrics. He had a date waiting, and every second spent here was a second stolen from Anastasia.
He surged forward, a blur of motion, the very air around him distorting as he subtly initiated his Gravity Manipulation. He amplified gravity on the yokai, simultaneously reducing his own personal gravity, making his body a blur of impossible speed, a silent projectile rocketing through the alley. Omiji, despite his bulk and surprised by Kenji's unnatural speed, was the only one who reacted fast enough, raising his massive kanabo just in time to block Kenji's opening strike. Sparks flew as his enchanted Blightbreaker broadsword met enchanted steel, a high-pitched ring echoing sharply in the narrow alley.
"Tch," Kenji muttered, a click of irritation escaping his tongue that his first, preemptive strike hadn't landed cleanly on the leader. He had aimed for a swift decapitation to demoralize them. But he didn't stop. His plan simply shifted, adapting instantly.
Using his Gravity Manipulation, he pulled two of the weaker High-Low Class yokai towards him, sending them stumbling violently forward, their movements clumsy and off-balance in the suddenly heavier air. They cried out in surprise, completely caught off guard, and before they could even properly react or regain their footing, his blade sliced through both in clean, brutal strokes. The Blightbreaker's edge, honed by Sword Mastery, bisected them with chilling efficiency. They crumpled, cleaved in half instantly, their grotesque forms collapsing into bloody heaps.
Three down. Seven to go. The alley floor was already slick with yokai blood.
A gout of green fire, a fireball from a spectral yokai, its form shimmering in the dim light, shot toward him from the shadows. Kenji pivoted, a flash of agile movement that blurred his outline, slashing his sword mid-air. The enchanted blade cleanly bisected the magical projectile, dissipating it harmlessly into wisps of green smoke.
But the follow-up attack came immediately, a well-coordinated assault, a hulking, brutish yokai with a massive staff smashed the ground where Kenji had been a split second before, cracking the concrete with immense force.
He retaliated instantly by releasing a powerful, short-range gravitational shockwave, blasting the two attacking Yokai backward, sending them tumbling violently into a wall with loud thuds. He then yanked another two Low Class yokai towards him. This time, they were more prepared, having witnessed their comrades' fates, one managed to block his pull by bracing against the wall with an arm while the other, a horned oni, charged with a wild, desperate swing of its club.
Kenji sidestepped the charging yokai's clumsy attack and delivered a Mana Punch directly to its gut, his fist glowing faintly with concentrated energy. The blow connected with sickening force, amplified by his Tier 8 strength, sending the creature flying into a wall with enough power to audibly crack stone, knocking it unconscious, its body slumping into a lifeless heap. He knew it wouldn't be out for long, but it bought him time.
The second yokai, still struggling from the gravitational pull but free of its pin, swung its blade in a wide, desperate arc. Kenji ducked effortlessly beneath it and jumped back, anticipating the next move.
One of the Mid-Class yokai, quick and cunning, took its chance and blasted him with a focused wave of wind magic, catching him mid-jump and sending him crashing into the rough brick wall of the club building. The impact jarred his teeth, a painful jolt despite his enhanced Vitality and defensive enchantments.
Kenji grunted, shaking his head to clear the slight daze, his eyes scanning the surrounding wall with a flicker of annoyance. "That's a problem," he muttered, seeing the slight crack in the wall from the impact, realizing the potential for noise to escape. He needed to keep this fight isolated, contained. No bystanders, no collateral damage, and certainly no breaking the illusion of normalcy for Anastasia. His date was still inside, oblivious.
He immediately summoned a Mana Shield around himself, its shimmering blue energy enveloping him in a protective bubble. Then, he concentrated, pouring mana outwards, expanding the shield's localized field with deliberate intent. A shimmering, semi-transparent barrier, almost invisible unless one actively looked for it, rose, encompassing the entire alley from wall to wall, extending upwards to create a domed ceiling, a newly unlocked skill, an evolution of his Mana Shield.
[New Skill Created: Mana Field] Effect: Creates a localized, permeable mana barrier that dampens sound, absorbs kinetic energy, and prevents magical discharge from escaping a designated area. Can be sustained with continuous mana input.
Its primary purpose wasn't to keep them out, nor was it strong enough to resist a sustained assault from the stronger yokai if they truly focused on breaking it. Instead, its true purpose was to keep noise and energy from leaking out, to ensure the sounds of battle were completely contained within this small, brutal arena. He couldn't afford to attract attention.
The remaining yokai glanced at the shimmering, faintly humming field and a collective understanding, they knew it was meant to keep them in but they didn't seem to care, after all, their mission was to kill this arrogant human.
Kenji didn't give them time.
He reached into his inventory, his hand moving in a blur, pulling out three small grey spheres, roughly the size of golf balls. He had created them during his early, failed alchemy experiments, meant to be healing poultices but turning into dense, inert grey balls with a pungent, acrid smell when broken. Now, they were repurposed. He smashed them to the ground with swift, deliberate force. Thick, acrid grey smoke immediately erupted, billowing outwards to fill the narrow alley, completely obscuring vision within seconds, turning the confined space into a disorienting haze.
While their vision was blocked and confusion momentarily reigned among the yokai, Kenji rushed the Low Class yokai he'd previously knocked out with the Mana Punch and, without hesitation, finished him off with a clean strike to the neck. One less to worry about, one less loose end. Best to remove the one that was already incapacitated before he returned later.
Then, he covered his Blightbreaker blade in shimmering Wind Magic, amplifying its cutting power to razor sharpness. He then layered it with his Gravity Manipulation, focusing the spell not just on himself, but on the blade itself, making it impossibly sharp and heavy and then hurled a powerful, horizontal slash at the group, a compressed wave of empowered wind and gravity ripping through the swirling smoke.
One yokai was cleaved in half instantly, a grotesque spray of blood briefly visible in the gloom before its upper half slid from its lower, collapsing in a heap. Another, hit by the edge of the attack, lost an arm in a brutal, ragged wound and howled in pain, a piercing scream that was immediately muffled by the Mana Field, before Kenji's follow-up blow, a precise, slash, silenced him for good, splitting him cleanly down the middle as his sword passed through.
Now the real threat began. Only Omiji, the Mid-Class yokai he'd sent flying earlier, and two other Mid-Class yokai remained. They were battered, but far from broken, their eyes now glinting with desperate, cornered ferocity.
It seems they had finally started to understand the situation.
Omiji roared, a guttural sound of pure fury and pain, tearing himself from the wall, rushing forward with surprising speed despite his bulk, his massive kanabo blurring in a desperate, wide swing.
Kenji responded with a focused blast of Gravity Manipulation, a concentrated burst that slammed into Omiji's chest, sending him flying backward once more, buying precious seconds. He then spun to deal with the last two Mid-Class yokai, who were rapidly closing in, pincering him.
The two remaining Mid-Class yokai leaped toward him, coordinating their attacks, blades flashing with malevolent intent. Kenji smirked, a cold, confident expression playing on his lips. He summoned an Adamantine Spear from his inventory to his off-hand and hurled it with incredible force at the one on the right.
It struck home with a sickening thud, piercing its shoulder and pinning it momentarily to the alley wall, a howl of pain erupting from its lips. While the target stumbled, roaring in agony and futilely tearing at the spear, Kenji leaped and came crashing down on the other Mid-Class yokai, who tried to raise his blade in defense.
Too slow.
Kenji increased the gravity of his Blightbreaker broadsword and focused it on his own body as he struck, turning himself into a living projectile, a mass of incredible force. The sheer impact cratered the pavement beneath them, shattering the yokai's flimsy defense and crushing him in one devastating blow. The impact sent a shockwave through the alley.
Omiji, now truly desperate, tearing himself from the wall, leaving a bloody smear. He flung his massive kanabo at Kenji with desperate force, a last-ditch effort.
Kenji didn't flinch. He didn't even move. A Gravity Barrier intercepted the weapon as it made contact with it, stopping it cold, then sent it clattering harmlessly to the ground with a loud clang. He gripped his Blightbreaker with both hands and focused, mana swirling, gathering his power.
Gravity compressed around the blade, twisting and distorting the very air around it, making it shimmer with an unseen power.
A faint purple shimmer glowed ominously around the weapon as he unleashed a powerful, devastating slash, pouring all his refined Tier 8 power into it.
[Gravity Slash]
The very air warped as the attack shot forward like a blade of distorted space, a shimmering purple arc slicing through the alley.
There was a deafening boom. The shockwave tore through the alley, blasting concrete fragments and pulverized dust into a chaotic cloud. When the dust settled, revealing the aftermath, Omiji was on his knees, half of his side missing, a grotesque, smoking wound where flesh and bone had been. His single eye was wide with disbelief and agony. The last remaining Mid-Class yokai, caught directly in the blast, had been utterly annihilated, reduced to a bloody smear on the wall.
Only one High-Low Class yokai remained, the one pinned by the spear. He was trembling violently, tears streaming from his eyes, a pathetic, broken figure staring at Kenji like he was the very embodiment of death itself.
"P-please… don't… I won't ever come after you again. I-I swear! Please!" he whimpered, trying to crawl away, absolute terror in his voice, leaving a trail of blood from his spear-pierced shoulder.
Kenji knelt down in front of him, his gaze icy, utterly devoid of mercy or compassion. His Gamer's Mind maintained its cold, efficient calm.
"Did you come here alone? Or were there others?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, a predatory purr.
"N-no. There was another. We told him to report to the boss if we found you… and that we had you cornered…" the yokai stammered, fear overriding any loyalty, desperate to bargain for its life.
Kenji's face darkened further, a shadow falling over his features. Reporting back. That changed everything.
"Please spare me..... I'll talk with the boss, Tell him… tell the boss we'll leave you alone! We'll never touch you again! We'll forget all about this, I swear!" the yokai pleaded, desperation thick in its voice, its eyes wide with pathetic hope.
Kenji smiled—but it was a cold, dead thing, utterly devoid of warmth, a mere baring of teeth. "No loose ends."
His enchanted sword flashed, moving with lightning speed. The yokai's head dropped to the ground with a wet thud, rolling a few inches before coming to a stop, its eyes still wide with terror.
Kenji exhaled a long, weary breath, sheathing his blade with a soft click. The moment they had spotted Anastasia, he had decided none of them would walk away. His resolve was absolute. But the fact that one had already reported back meant this wasn't over. A new, larger threat, one that was now aware of his presence in Shizuoka. He would need to act, and soon, before they brought even more dangerous forces to his doorstep.
He needed to get stronger quickly.
He looked down at his blood-soaked clothes, the vibrant crimson a stark contrast to the pristine clothes he had started with. His tailored tux was ruined beyond repair, stained with the ichor of his enemies. A wave of profound, almost comical, frustration washed over him.
Back in the club, Anastasia crossed her arms, irritation building with every passing minute. Kenji had been gone far too long, and his vague text had done little to soothe her growing impatience. This was their date night, their special evening, and he just… vanished. She was starting to feel the familiar sting of disappointment and a surge of quiet anger, the old wounds threatening to resurface. The music, once comforting, now seemed to mock her.
When he finally appeared, stepping back into the softly lit lounge, she blinked, her eyes widening in disbelief, her irritation instantly dissolving into shock.
His once-crisp clean shirt was now soaked in crimson, a vibrant, alarming red spreading across the chest and down one sleeve. His hair was slightly disheveled.
"What happened, Kenji?!" she asked, concern instantly overriding her irritation, her voice sharp with worry.
He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a visible wince, clearly trying to appear contrite. "Ah, well… some guy at the bar when I was passing by. He, uh, spilled a whole bottle of red wine on me. And then… we got into a… minor disagreement when I tried to get him to apologize. Things escalated." He gestured vaguely to his ruined front, trying to downplay the extent of the damage.
Anastasia raised an eyebrow, a clear look of utter skepticism on her face. Her gaze swept over him, taking in the full extent of the "spill." A minor disagreement that ended with him looking like a murder victim?
"I tried to clean up before coming back, I swear," he added quickly, gesturing to his damp sleeves, his eyes pleading for understanding, a touch of desperation in his voice.
She stared at him for a long moment, truly looking at him—the streaks of red, the sheepish grin, the utterly ridiculous state of his once-perfect outfit. The absurdity of the situation, juxtaposed with his sincere apology, was too much. And then, despite herself, despite the lingering worry, a helpless snort escaped her, and she burst out laughing.
He looked utterly ridiculous. Standing there, covered in what looked like wine/blood? His eyes still apologetic, trying desperately to play it cool. Here she was, moments ago worried that he had left her alone, feeling disappointed and on the verge of anger, and he was being bathed in wine, looking like he'd just survived a war with a vineyard. The image was too comical to sustain her frustration.
He laughed too, a sheepish, relieved sound, the tension draining from his shoulders as her laughter washed over him. He took her hands, pulling her gently from her seat. "I'm really, truly sorry for disappearing, Anastasia. I just didn't want to ruin our night, but… clearly, I failed spectacularly on the execution."
She shook her head, still chuckling, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. "Well, you kinda look like you lost a war with a vineyard, Kenji. A very violent one." She gave his arm a light, affectionate squeeze, her worry now replaced by amusement.
He chuckled. "So, should we call it a night then? Before I cause any more... wine-related incidents? Or perhaps a brawl with one of those gentlemen eyeing you from the corner?"
She snorted at that before she smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made his heart soar, a clear sign of forgiveness. "Yeah. Let's head home. And maybe next time, you can not end the date covered in wine. Just… try to stay clean, Kenji." Her eyes held a playful challenge.
He grinned. "I'll do my best. Promise." He knew it was a promise he might not always be able to keep in his new life, but he would certainly try for her.
As they walked out of the club, leaving the music and the lingering scent of wine and battle behind, Kenji put his arm around her, pulling her close. The night hadn't been perfect, far from it, but it had been fun for both of them and that, he realized, was more than enough.
He would deal with the looming threat from the yokai, and the consequences tomorrow. But tonight, he was just a husband, grateful for his wife's laughter, and the quiet comfort of her hand in his.
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