The air trembled.
That was the final warning the city received before power was released.
Shinji stood in the sky, Azura at his side, Kaelith facing him across a distance that felt measured rather than wide. Below them, broken streets and shattered stone waited, already scarred by what had come before. Wind coiled unnaturally around Shinji's boots, spiraling upward, pulled not by weather—but by him.
Kaelith tilted her head, silver armor catching the light. "Careful," she said, almost pleasantly. "If you bare your presence fully here, you'll erase what you're trying to protect."
Shinji didn't answer.
He released his aura.
Not all of it.
Seventy-five percent.
The world bowed.
A pressure descended across the city like an invisible ocean. Buildings groaned. Glass exploded outward in shimmering rain. The sky above warped, clouds stretching thin as if pressed against unseen glass.
Every living thing felt it.
Adventurers collapsed to their knees. Weaker demons fled without direction, screaming as instinct overrode thought. Mana barriers flared into existence across the city as mages desperately reinforced what they could.
Yatomoshi slammed his staff into the ground, blood running from his nose as ancient runes ignited beneath his feet. "Hold the seals," he barked, voice strained. "This isn't intimidation—this is a battlefield forming!"
Isamu's eyes narrowed. He didn't move to intervene.
He understood.
This was not showing off.
This was measurement.
Kaelith smiled.
Then she answered.
Darkness surged from beneath her feet—not shadow, but something older, heavier. Underworld energy poured upward like a reversed waterfall, wrapping her form in spiraling black light. The air screamed as opposing forces collided, pressure slamming outward in a shockwave that flattened what remained of the street.
Where their auras met, reality distorted.
The sky fractured into mirrored shards. Sound vanished completely, crushed between forces too dense to carry it.
Kaelith's hair lifted, floating as if underwater. Her eyes burned brighter. "Only seventy-five?" she asked, voice carrying effortlessly through the pressure. "How considerate."
Shinji's aura pressed harder.
Kaelith's grin sharpened. She stepped forward—and the city cracked another inch.
Yatomoshi gritted his teeth. "They're not clashing to win," he muttered. "They're establishing territory."
Isamu nodded once. "If either loses here… the fight ends before it begins."
The pressure peaked.
Then—
Steel screamed.
Light detonated between them as Azura met Kaelith's twin blades in a blinding flash. The sound arrived a heartbeat later, tearing through the city like thunder delayed by distance. Their first clash erased the space between them, blades colliding faster than the eye could follow.
They vanished.
What remained was light.
Streaks of pink and black tore through the sky, crossing and recoiling, colliding again and again at speeds that turned motion into illusion. Each impact sent ripples through the air, the ground answering seconds later with delayed shockwaves.
No one could track them.
Only the afterimages remained—fading lines of destruction etched into the sky.
Kaelith fought at full power.
Shinji did not increase his output.
And still, he met her.
Their blades collided again—this time close enough that those watching felt the heat on their skin. Azura howled, its runes blazing brighter as Apex Devour stirred, eager, restrained only by Shinji's will.
Kaelith twisted mid-strike, underworld energy surging violently. "You've changed," she said between clashes. "Before, you would've drowned in this."
Shinji parried, sparks tearing across the sky. "I learned control."
Their blades locked.
Pressure exploded outward.
For a single suspended moment, the city held its breath—
And then Shinji pushed.
The sky split.
Part Two: A Hand That Does Not Appear
Kaelith should have died.
She knelt in the ruins, one blade shattered, the other barely held together by fading underworld energy. Her armor was split, her breathing uneven. The sky above still trembled from the aftermath of her defeat.
Shinji hovered before her, Azura blazing pink in his grasp.
Apex Devour stirred—not violently, not greedily—but with quiet certainty. The blade's runes pulsed in rhythm with Shinji's heartbeat, hunger restrained only by will.
This was the moment it ended.
Shinji raised Azura.
Kaelith looked up.
And smiled.
"You were faster than expected," she said softly. "But it was never meant to be enough."
The air shifted.
Not from impact.
Not from pressure.
From absence.
Something withdrew from the world—then reached back in.
Shinji felt it instantly.
His body didn't react.
His mana didn't fluctuate.
But his soul… tightened.
Azura screamed.
The pink glow flared erratically, runes stuttering as Apex Devour recoiled for the first time since awakening. Shinji's grip tightened as a foreign sensation brushed against the edges of his existence—not touching, not forcing—
Observing.
"…Soul manipulation," Shinji said calmly.
The sky darkened by a shade, colors dulling as if reality itself had gone quiet to listen.
Below, adventurers collapsed without understanding why. Some screamed. Others stared blankly ahead, lips trembling as invisible pressure weighed on something far deeper than flesh.
Yatomoshi slammed his staff into the ground, ancient sigils flaring wildly. Blood ran freely from his nose. "That's not mana," he growled. "It's not even presence. That thing isn't here."
Isamu didn't move.
His hand rested on his sword, knuckles white, eyes fixed on Kaelith.
"…From his domain," he muttered. "He's doing it from the underworld."
Kaelith's body twitched.
Once.
Then again.
Her breathing steadied—not weakened, not frantic—but regulated. She rose slowly to her feet, movements unnaturally smooth, like a marionette whose strings had finally gone taut.
The damage to her armor sealed over with crawling darkness. Underworld energy surged back into her veins, denser than before, colder, more refined.
But it wasn't hers.
Shinji felt it.
Her soul had shifted.
Not broken.
Occupied.
Kaelith lifted her head. When her eyes met Shinji's, there was no amusement left. No emotion at all.
Her stance changed.
The way she held her blades was wrong—too precise, too economical. Gone was the adaptive fluidity she'd shown before. This was something else entirely.
Calculated.
Experienced.
Ancient.
A voice echoed—not aloud, but through the pressure itself. Calm. Distant. Absolute.
"I will not cross worlds for this."
Shinji's eyes sharpened.
"A fraction," the voice continued. "That is all you merit—for now."
The pressure eased slightly.
The presence withdrew.
But the control remained.
Kaelith stepped forward.
The ground fractured beneath her feet.
Her speed doubled—no, tripled—each movement stripped of hesitation. She attacked without warning, twin blades carving through space with lethal efficiency. Shinji blocked instinctively, Azura meeting steel in a violent clash that sent shockwaves tearing across the ruins.
This was not the same opponent.
Her patterns were unfamiliar. Her timing unnatural. Each strike came from angles Shinji hadn't seen before—not because Kaelith had learned them—
But because someone else was fighting through her.
"So this is how you rule," Shinji said quietly, deflecting another strike. "You don't step onto the battlefield."
The voice did not answer.
Kaelith pressed harder.
For the first time, Shinji was forced to move defensively—not because he was weaker, but because the rules of the fight had changed.
Apex Devour growled within him, frustrated.
Not at Kaelith.
At the hand guiding her.
Shinji steadied his breathing.
Seventy-five percent.
Still enough.
But now, it wasn't about strength.
It was about whether his soul could remain his own.
And somewhere deep in the underworld—
Something watched.
Part Three: The Moment of Contact
Kaelith moved differently now.
There was no wasted motion, no hesitation. Every step was measured, every angle exact, as if the space around her had already been calculated and discarded.
Shinji blocked her first strike.
The second came faster.
The third—
Her blade slid past his guard, not deep enough to wound, not aimed to kill.
It brushed his hand.
Skin met skin.
For a single, fragile heartbeat, the world pulsed.
Shinji felt it immediately.
Not pain.
Not force.
Something opening.
Azura screamed.
The pink glow around the blade fractured, runes stuttering violently as Apex Devour recoiled, its hunger collapsing inward on itself.
Shinji's fingers twitched.
Not from injury.
From intrusion.
Kaelith froze mid-motion.
Her head tilted, eyes unfocused—then focused too sharply.
When she spoke, the voice was not hers.
"I see," it said calmly. "You felt it."
Shinji didn't pull away. He stared at his own hand, flexing it once as the sensation settled deeper than flesh.
"…So that's it," he said quietly.
Kaelith's lips curved faintly.
"You were wondering," the voice continued, almost conversational.
"How my soul manipulation works, King of the Underworld."
The title was deliberate.
A provocation.
"Contact," the voice said. "That is all it takes. A single moment of touch. The soul does not guard itself the way the body does. It assumes intimacy is harmless."
The pressure deepened.
Not crushing.
Exploratory.
"I touched you," the voice went on. "And now your soul is within reach."
Around them, the air thickened. Adventurers dropped to their knees without understanding why. Mages clutched their chests as if their hearts had forgotten their rhythm.
Yatomoshi slammed his staff into the ground, blood spilling freely from his nose. "It's started," he growled. "He has access."
Isamu's jaw tightened. "…So that's the rule."
Shinji exhaled slowly.
Memories stirred.
Not dragged.
Invited.
The scent of smoke.
The crackle of burning wood.
A woman running toward him through fire.
His mother.
The pressure nudged, gentle and precise, trying to give the memory weight. Meaning. Authority.
Shinji felt the old instinct rise.
And crushed it.
"No," he said calmly.
The memory flattened.
Not erased.
Pinned.
Like a specimen under glass.
The pressure faltered.
"…Interesting," the voice murmured through Kaelith. "You're not resisting entry."
"Why would I?" Shinji replied. "You're not attacking."
A pause.
Then—curiosity.
"You've already categorized the memory," the voice observed. "You recognize it as external."
Hinata's lesson echoed, not as sound, but as certainty.
That is not your mother. It is a memory shaped into a knife.
Shinji tightened his grip on Azura.
"You can touch my soul," he said evenly. "But you can't decide what it is."
Apex Devour surged—not outward, but inward—locking around Shinji's core like a boundary drawn in blood. The devouring hunger didn't lash out.
It anchored.
Kaelith moved again, blades flashing, but something was wrong now. Her timing slipped—not because she was weaker, but because the control guiding her had lost precision.
Shinji stepped into her space, blades locking.
In that instant, he felt it.
The tether.
Thin. Distant.
A line stretching far below the battlefield, into a domain that did not touch the world—but claimed authority over it.
"You're not here," Shinji said quietly. "You're reaching."
The pressure spiked.
"I do not need to cross worlds for this," the voice replied coolly. "A fraction is sufficient."
Shinji twisted his blade, forcing Kaelith back, disrupting the resonance—not breaking the control, but desynchronizing it.
Kaelith staggered.
Her eyes flickered—confusion bleeding through the emptiness.
The pressure withdrew slightly.
"…This is not over," the voice said, colder now. "You are not beyond reach."
Shinji straightened, aura steady.
"I know," he said. "That's why you explained it."
Silence.
Then the presence receded.
Kaelith collapsed to one knee, gasping as her own soul slammed back into place.
Shinji didn't strike.
He looked past her, toward the unseen depths of the underworld.
"Next time," he said quietly,
"don't touch me."
Part Four: After the Silence
The city did not erupt into cheers.
It exhaled.
Smoke drifted lazily between shattered streets. Broken stone still glowed faintly where spells had scorched the ground. The massive corpse of the demon was already dissolving into black mist, its final words lingering longer than its body ever could.
Shinji stood where the fight had ended.
Azura rested at his side, its pink glow dimmed but not gone, like a blade reluctantly sleeping. His aura had withdrawn completely now, but the space around him still felt… different. Lighter. As if something oppressive had finally been removed.
Behind him, healers rushed toward Yatomoshi.
The Guild Master sat heavily against a cracked wall, blood soaking through the rough bandages wrapped around his missing arm. His breathing was steady, but shallow. A senior healer pressed glowing hands against the wound, teeth clenched in concentration.
"Hold still, sir," she said sharply. "You'll live. Don't make me chase your soul back."
Yatomoshi gave a rough chuckle. "Still bossy, even now."
The healer didn't smile.
A few streets away, boots pounded against stone.
Kaede was the first to appear.
She skidded to a halt when she saw Shinji, eyes wide, breath uneven. Her staff was chipped, her cloak torn, ash smeared across her cheek. Behind her came the rest of her party—tired, wounded, alive.
For half a second, she just stared at him.
Then she ran.
"Shinji!"
She slammed into him without hesitation, arms wrapping around his waist with enough force that he took a step back in surprise. Her hands trembled as they fisted into the fabric of his coat.
"You idiot," she muttered into his chest. "You disappeared. The city was burning. And then—"
Her voice cracked.
Shinji froze.
Then, slowly, he raised one hand and rested it awkwardly on her shoulder.
"I'm here," he said quietly.
That seemed to undo her.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes shining with anger and relief. "Do you have any idea how terrifying it is when everything starts shaking and you're not there?"
Behind her, one of her teammates cleared his throat. "We thought the city was about to fall," he admitted. "Then… everything stopped."
Another looked at Shinji with open awe. "That was you, wasn't it?"
Shinji didn't answer.
He looked past them, toward the far end of the ruined street, where the S-ranks were regrouping. Asuka sat on the ground, teeth clenched as a healer worked on the wound in his abdomen. Isamu stood nearby, silent as ever, eyes never leaving Shinji for long.
Yatomoshi noticed the glance.
He pushed himself upright with effort, waving the healers back once the bleeding slowed. "You came through when it mattered," he said, voice hoarse but firm. "That's enough."
Shinji turned back to Kaede.
"The demon wasn't the end," he said. "It was a message."
Her grip tightened slightly. "About the bounty."
He nodded.
A chill passed through her.
Around them, adventurers whispered. Not excited. Not boastful.
Wary.
The city had survived—but something had changed. They could all feel it.
Kaede swallowed. "So what now?"
Shinji looked up at the sky.
For just a moment, something ancient and unreadable passed through his eyes.
"Now," he said softly, "they'll start coming in earnest."
Kaede followed his gaze, then looked back at him. "And you?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I'll be here," he replied. "Until I'm not."
The words should have been reassuring.
Instead, they felt like a promise—and a warning.
Part Five: The Weight of a King
While the lower ranks worked alongside the citizens to rebuild the scorched streets, the atmosphere inside the Guild's strategy chamber was far more volatile.
"You know who the demons are after!" Asuka's voice was a jagged blade, cutting through the silence. He slammed his hand onto the table, ignoring the wince of pain from his bandaged ribs. "Why are we pretending? The more Shinji stays here, the more this city becomes a target. He's a magnet for every nightmare in the Underworld!"
No one spoke for a long moment. The other S-ranks looked at the floor, the maps, their own hands—anywhere but at Shinji, who leaned against the back wall, silent as a shadow.
Isamu finally stood up, his presence cold and steady. "We call ourselves S-ranks," he said, his voice dripping with quiet disdain. "We claim to be the pinnacle of human strength. Yet, we couldn't even scratch a General's assistant. Are you not ashamed? You are condemning the very person who stood where you fell."
"He was dead!" Asuka shouted, turning on Isamu. "He was an E-rank porter who died in a dungeon, and now he's back with a power that reeks of the abyss! Who knows what he really is?"
"He is the only reason we are breathing," Isamu countered. "We were fighting demons long before this bounty. If the Higher-ranks had come before Shinji's return, Yatomoshi would be leading a city of corpses. To the Demon Lords, we are ants. Shinji is the only one who isn't."
"But—"
"Enough."
Yatomoshi's palm hit the table. The sound wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a dying lion's roar. Silence swallowed the room.
"For a human to be recognized as 'King' by a General... for the Demon Lord Zenny to set a bounty of this magnitude..." Yatomoshi's single eye burned. "Most of you are too young to remember Kuroro. He was the first to have a bounty. He was the only man to ever scar the Demon Lord's face. I fought beside him against the First and Fourth Generals. I survived. He did not."
Yatomoshi looked directly at Shinji. "History is repeating itself. And history is brutal."
The debate began to spiral, voices rising in fear and suspicion. Shinji watched them, his expression unreadable. He realized that as long as they saw him as "Shinji the E-rank," they would always fear the target on his back more than they valued his blade.
He decided to show them the truth.
Shinji stepped forward.
He didn't speak. He simply let the restraint on his soul slip.
BOOM.
It wasn't a sound, but a physical weight. A tidal wave of pure, apex pressure erupted from him. The air didn't just thicken; it turned to lead. Every S-rank in the room was slammed into their chairs or onto their knees. The stone floor beneath Shinji's boots spider-webbed as the very foundations of the Guild Hall groaned.
It was the feeling of standing before a God that didn't care if you lived or died.
Asuka, driven by a cocktail of terror and wounded pride, felt the pressure lift for a split second as Shinji throttled it back. In that moment of madness, Asuka drew his claymore—a blade forged from Orichalcum, the strongest ore known to man.
He lunged. A killing strike, faster than any human eye could follow.
"ASUKA, NO!" Yatomoshi screamed, but he was too far away.
No one saw Shinji draw.
They only heard the sound: a single, clean ching.
Shinji stood there, Azura already being slid back into its sheath. Asuka froze mid-swing, his face pale.
A moment later, the top half of the Orichalcum claymore—the sword said to be unbreakable—slid off the hilt and clattered to the floor. It had been sliced through like warm butter.
Shinji looked at the trembling S-rank, his eyes glowing with a faint, predatory red.
"The next time you swing a toy at me," Shinji said, his voice a low vibration that shook their very bones, "make sure you're prepared to lose the hand holding it."
He turned away.