(Sosome's POV)
We were supposed to cull a few weak demons.
It should have been fast and simple.
So why... why is there an Oni in front of us?
Its towering red form radiates heat like a forge. Blue eyes burn into us-rage incarnate, raw and ancient. Not mindless fury, but something deeper. Directed. Heavy.
I feel Mei tense beside me. She's silent, but her breath is shaky. Mine too.
I try to stay calm, but-
His presence drags something out of me. Something old.
Memories.
Of a time when I stood with someone else. A friend. One I rarely see now.
Minoru.
He always walked ahead of us-stronger, faster, smarter.
In ten years, he'll be Vice-Captain level. Maybe less.
Me? I'm still here. Struggling with grunts. Holding back panic.
"Focus," I hiss to myself.
No Minoru this time. No lifeline. Just me. Mei. And this monster.
I grip my lance tighter.
I'll hold out until the reinforcements arrive.
Mei already sent a distress signal-I saw her hand flicker. We just need time.
And then-
A rush of wind. My instincts scream. I duck-
Shhhhhhrrrrk!
A blade of compressed air cuts through where my head was.
I shout, "Sukunda!"
His movements slow. Slightly.
"Rakunda!" I follow up, lowering his defenses.
"Tarunda!" Mei's voice cuts in from behind-her tone steady, even as the ground trembles. Her spell dims the Oni's offensive power.
We're in sync. Even without our demons-still recovering in the COMP after the last mission-we can do this.
We have to.
But then it roars.
"▂▂▂▂▃▃▃▃▄▄▄▄▅▅▅▅!"
My ears ring. My heart stops.
The sand explodes in every direction. Then something comes-fast, clean, silent.
A white arc.
Transparent. Razor-thin. Moon-shaped.
It's not just a blade of wind. It's... denser. Infused with something else.
Magatsuhi.
Shit.
I feel it now. That strange thrum behind the air, like a dissonant note hidden in a melody.
Minoru would've known instantly. I only notice because it's already here.
Too late.
I plant my feet. Raise my lance. Pray.
CLANG!
My weapon meets the arc. For a second-I hold.
Then-pain explodes in my left arm. I scream as I'm launched through the air like a ragdoll.
Crack.
I don't need to look. It's broken.
But worse... something else is wrong.
I feel weaker.
Like a Tarunda has been cast on me.
"Shit..." I mutter. "Fang Breaker."
It wasn't just a wind blade. That was a skill.
This Oni... it's stronger than the one I fought with Minoru.
Panic builds in my throat. I choke it down.
I need to survive.
I need to keep hoping
I mustn't-
My thoughts stop.
There are more.
Three more Onis appear behind the first.
I freeze.
Mei-
Where is she?
I scan the sand, frantic-then I see something. No-someone.
A shape. A limb.
An arm... and a leg... both buried in the dust.
They're hers.
I know it.
My heart drops like a stone. Cold spreads through my ribs.
No. No no no no-
Someone. Anyone. Please.
Help us.
I crash into the ground with a dull, lifeless thud. I can't get up. I don't want to.
An Oni walks toward me, blade raised.
So this is it?
I look up. My broken arm lies limp. My grip on the lance is gone.
The blade comes down.
And then-
FWOOOOOOOOM!!
The Oni vanishes. A blur.
From where he stood, a black pillar of made of darkness erupts-tall, furious, and wide like a gateway to hell.
Not just one.
More.
A pillar of fire, ice and light.
Even the sand turns to glass beneath fire one.
And then-
He appears.
A silhouette emerges through the shimmering haze. A little over 1.8 meters tall. Black trench coat with silver lining. Hood raised.
Beneath it-formal wear. Black suit. Black tie. White shirt.
On his left arm he bear the mark of a Summoner, a COMP.
But his mask is what draws all attention.
Smooth. Glossy. Pure obsidian black.
Expressionless.
Emotionless.
Just like the rumors.
Shadow.
He's been appearing everywhere lately. A lone Summoner with impossible growth. He speaks cryptically and hunts demons solo.
People whisper he might become one day a Captain-level Summoner. That he's not normal.
I have my suspicions. I know someone with growth like that.
But now's not the time.
The air itself seems to recognize him. To bend.
He speaks-voice calm, deep, resonant.
"Soon the Apocalyps will begin. We are out of time."
And then-he vanishes.
Gone.
The pillars disappear with him.
I lie there, blinking.
"...Did he just... leave?"
No hi? No are you okay? Nothing?
I groan and push myself to my knees. My arm throbs like hell.
"Ahhh... seriously. He hasn't changed a bit."
I start dragging myself through the sand.
"Mei... Mei where are you..."
No demons in sight.
They must've run when he arrived.
I hope he didn't just show up to show off.
Still... I'm alive and he healed me.
So I owe him one.
Now I just need to make sure she is too.
----------
(Minoru's POV)
"One more thing scratched off the list of actions worthy of an Eminence in Shadow..."
I murmur the line under my breath, the words leaving a faint aftertaste of irony.
It should feel better than this.
Used to, anyway.
Back then, whenever I struck from the darkness, weaving the perfect timing, the perfect cryptic line, my heart would race like a drum. It was glorious. Exhilarating.
But now...
Now it's quieter inside.
Still, killing Onis always leaves a good burn in my veins. Ending them feels like like a vengeance from when I just started as a Summoner. At least before because now the power gap has become too great
Too bad Sosome couldn't feel it. That boy still looks at monsters like they're storms. Untouchable. Overwhelming. If only he knew-They bleed too.
Just like that first Oni I killed.
It's been what-one years?
I remember it. Too clearly.
I didn't summon my demons. Couldn't. That fight was mine alone. It was my declaration of revenge.
It nearly killed me. Every second was teeth and fire and blood in my mouth. But in the end-
The Oni fell.
And I was still standing.
That's where all of this began.
...Well, enough nostalgia.
I need to check on my stock. My demons are starting to lag behind-fusion's overdue.
And that means... Victor.
The ringmaster of the strange little circus that never really moves, and yet is always there.
The Circque du Goumaden.
"Alright... terminal first."
I know where to find one.
-BOOOOOOOM!
The air tears apart behind me, a thunderclap echoing over the dunes. I broke the sound barrier again.
I grin despite myself. "Heh. Better hurry. Wouldn't wanna miss the fusion sale."
Hypersonic speed turns the desert into streaks of gold and black. The Vortex World ripples past me, endless dunes shattering like mirages.
And then-
The tent appears.
A massive red circus tent, stitched with star patterns that gleam faintly in the unnatural sunless sky.
It doesn't belong here. That's the point.
I step through the flap-
-and it feels like passing through water. Thick, pressing, dragging at my skin before letting me go.
The interior is small. Almost humble. The floor is still the sand of the Vortex World, crunching under my boots. No grand decorations, no carnival wonders. Just-
A glowing pillar of violet energy.
Three meters tall, humming, pulsing, twisting Magatsuhi coiling around it like smoke.
The entryway.
Typical Victor.
Even for a threshold, you'd think he'd bother dressing it up. A rug, maybe. A banner. Something.
But no. Just the raw, uncut heart of the Goumaden.
I sigh and step into it.
The pillar engulfs me. My vision fractures into colors, weightlessness pulling at every nerve. For an instant, I don't exist.
And then-
I do.
And there it is.
The sight that never stops stealing my breath, no matter how many times I walk through.
Fireworks blossom across a night sky that isn't actually night-an impossible midnight stitched with color. Ferris wheels turn lazily in the distance, lights blinking like distant constellations. Demons drift between tents like patrons at a masquerade, laughing, bartering, showing off scars like badges. The place is big enough to be a country, and built like it was meant to survive the end of the world. Everything here is beautiful and ridiculous and perfectly, terrifyingly useless outside Victor's little sphere of influence.
I step toward the main ring.
Victor's circus is a lie dressed as a show. Behind the glitz-behind the chandeliers and the purple drapery and the marquee that blinks, "WELCOME TO GOUMADEN"-is a workshop where the impossible gets stitched together. Demon fusion. Performance and industry braided in one glittering strand.
The main hall swallows me: massive domed ceiling, chandeliers dripping gold, velvet curtains the color of bruises. Posters peel with old charisma. A tilted top hat and a striped sign hang above as if to wink. Props are scattered like the aftermath of a dream-trapeze hoops, a cannon that smells faintly of brimstone, a drum the size of a small carriage. The stage floor is painted in spirals that make my eyes itch with focus. It's theatrical. It's absurd. It's Victor's altar.
And on that altar he stands: grand in a way that feels less human ceremony and more like a natural law. Tall top hat tipped just so, long blond hair, coat quilted in red, black fur and straps and chains-every detail screams "ringmaster," but the atmosphere around him whispers "god." He isn't merely a man in costume. He's a High-Summoner in a suit that could swallow a field of stars.
Victor inclines his head like a director who's been waiting just for me.
"Welcome. What brings you in today, Shadow?"
The name slides off my tongue like a benediction. "I need a fusion. Two demons."
Victor strokes his chin with theatrical indifference. "Hmmm. Only one new cast member will come out of this, but since you're a regular, I'll do it for five thousand Macca-you already brought the materials."
Perfect. No fuss. I like it when things move quick.
Two pentagrams flare on the floor. Magatsuhi leaks around their edges like ink. From each circle the summoned demons rise.
The first is everything a werewolf ought to be: tall, lupine humanoid, golden hair and eyes that flare like embers. He wears a ripped navy jacket that somehow still looks classy-an aristocratic beast.
The second looks like a toy given life and gone wrong in the best way possible. Polished metal skin gleams gold, its limbs precise and an inch away from puppetry. A tight pink shirt with a bold kanji, black shorts, polished boots. A green leaf-like collar at the throat, a dramatic red scarf whipping behind. Its face is a permanent smile forged in brass, hair stabbing upward into black points like jagged horns. Little flames whirl around its feet, like a dancer propelled by combustion.
Victor claps once.
"The fusion will result in an Ose, of the Fallen race. Are you sure?"
"Yes," I say.
Victor snaps his fingers.
The two demons dissolve-no, not dissolve. They unravel. Black particles wrapped in faint green light pull away and scatter, then gather. A curtain of deep purple slides closed, and for a beat the ring is nothing but the scent of dust and the hum of expectation.
When the drape parts, threads of golden light weave in the air, knitting a figure into being. White-gold filaments form muscles, the silhouette tightening into something predatory and disciplined. The new demon steps forward: a humanoid leopard warrior, lithe and lethal, fur gilded with dark spots. Two swords rest at its back, sheathed but promising. A green cloak falls like a challenge over broad shoulders. Bandages wrap its waist and wrists like a fighter who's spent nights awake and still trains at dawn.
It breathes. It tests the air. Its eyes open-blue, sharp, measuring.
"I am Ose of the Fallen," it says, voice like a blade sliding from velvet. "Good to meet you. I hope you will be worthy to be my new Lord."
There it is: practical, blunt, and alarmingly courteous for a thing that will probably eat my enemies and glance at me like a comrade when the work is done. I like the tone. I like the confidence. Fallen types tend to be dramatic, but this one's earned every syllable.
I take a moment to study him. Strong shoulders, compact power in every line. Two swords that look like they were forged in the flame of hell. The kind of demon who doesn't need flashy skills because everything about them screams violence in efficient, beautiful doses.
"Hahahahaha! "New" Lord! Hahaha!"
Me and Ose both freeze, heads snapping toward Victor. His laugh cuts the air like a whip-loud, manic, bouncing off the circus walls until it feels like the whole dimension's in on the joke.
"...Don't worry," I mutter to Ose without breaking eye contact with the mad doctor. "He does this sometimes. First time I met him ten months ago, exact same thing. Like déjà vu but more theatrical."
Victor leans forward, his grin twisting under the shadow of his top hat.
----------
(10 months ago)
"I am Shadow, he who lurks in the shadows to hunt the shadows!" I introduced myself, savoring every syllable like it's fine wine.
And then he bursts. "Mwahahahahaha! Yes, Shadow! A name that fits you perfectly-because your very existence is "His" shadow!" His voice is thunder, rolling, vibrating through the circus floor. Then, as if realizing he skipped the opening act, he clears his throat, sweeps his coat back, and bows deeply. "Ah-where are my manners? Welcome, welcome to the Cirque du Goumaden. Tell me, Shadow... what brings you into my world tonight?"
Oh? That's new. Usually people blink at me like I'm insane when I drop the "Shadow" act. He didn't just take it-he ran with it, amplified it, wrapped it in fireworks and threw it back at me. For the first time since I started this little charade, someone actually played along.
"I've heard whispers," I say, lowering my voice, letting the words drip with weight, "that a great existence dwells here... one who can fuse demons into beings that defy nature. I ask for your help."
Victor's eyes gleam. He stretches his arms wide, cane still clutched in his right hand like it's part of him. "Help? No, my boy, I do not help. I perform!" His coat flares like wings, shadows bending toward him as if the world itself is part of his stage. "This is the reason for this place to exist, the fusion of two or more demons is the grandest circus nature could conceive. There is no greater spectacle than the moment of demonic life reborn!"
His voice climbs higher, booming across the hall, every word drenched in mania and brilliance. "Come one, come all, to the greatest show in creation! Witness demons fused before your very eyes, life reborn in a blaze of Magatsuhi and willpower! There is no greater magic, no greater wonder-than this!"
And then it hits me. Not just his words. Him.
The whole world shifts. I feel it in my chest, like gravity itself just tilted. Everything pulls toward him-his voice, his gaze, his presence. Like he's not a man but a star. Or maybe worse-a black hole dressed in velvet and sequins, devouring everything around him while making you believe you wanted it. My thoughts are dragged, my focus swallowed. Even my heartbeat tries to sync to the rhythm of his performance.
That was the day I first met Victor Frankenstein. And I knew instantly: he wasn't just a summoner. He was a world unto himself.
----------
But the curtain falls eventually. Business ends where spectacle begins. I pay him, shake the lingering weight of his presence off my shoulders, and step out of the Goumaden while Ose gets inside my COMP
I drift through the streets until I find myself in a narrow alley. One more door waits at the end-plain wood, an exact replica of the Club Cretaceous entrance. I push it open, and the world flips again.
In an instant, I'm inside.
Warm lights. Smoke curling up toward a ceiling lost in shadow. Jazz drifting lazily from some ancient speaker that looks like it survived three different apocalypses. Tables scattered everywhere, glasses half-full of drinks that don't exist anywhere outside this place.
The Club Cretaceous.
I glance at the clock.
I'm supposed to meet someone in an hour.
Might as well drink something while I wait.
I sit down and order a glass of something amber and dangerous. The bartender doesn't ask questions. They never do here.
When the drink arrives, I lean back and stare at the ceiling.
And, as usual, my thoughts wander somewhere they probably shouldn't.
Sosome. Mei.
Those days weren't bad.
But they were slow.
I noticed it during fights first. Sosome struggling to keep up with the pace. Mei burning through stamina while I was still ready to keep going. By the end of most battles, I was the only one still standing without needing to stop.
And that... irritated me.
Not because they were weak.
But because they slowed me down.
To move at my own rhythm, I had to leave them behind.
Even now, the thought leaves a faint bitter taste.
Still... I don't regret it.
After all, I started this path alone.
And I'll finish it alone.
One day I'll be strong enough to need only myself.
My fist tightens unconsciously as I stare at the ceiling lights.
Minutes pass.
Eventually, I stand.
Time to move.
At the end of the club's main hall sits a door most people pretend not to see.
A golden door with three engraved letters:
VIP
I push it open And step inside.
The view of a corridor stretches before me.
Long, wide and absurdly luxurious.
The walls are plated with polished gold panels reflecting the chandelier light like molten sunlight. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling every few meters, dripping diamonds like frozen rain. Paintings line the walls-ancient landscapes, portraits of figures I suspect aren't entirely human.
Jewels are embedded in the columns like decorative stars.
The carpet beneath my feet is deep red velvet, so soft my footsteps barely make a sound.
This corridor alone could probably buy a continent.
Dozens of doors line the walls.
Each one leads to private chambers where deals are made, secrets exchanged, alliances born and buried.
I walk toward the far end.
The hallway should take minutes to cross.
But space bends.
The corridor shrinks.
Reality folds itself politely out of my way.
And in less than a moment, I'm standing before the final door.
Larger than the others.
Taller.
More ornate.
The frame is carved with intricate silver patterns-dragons, fox spirits, and unfamiliar sigils twisting together. The handle itself is made from polished jade.
The door opens on its own.
Of course it does.
Beyond it lies a room that looks less like a lounge and more like a royal palace.
The ceiling arches high overhead, painted with a dark celestial mural where golden constellations slowly drift. Massive crystal chandeliers pour soft light into the room. Marble pillars wrapped in silk curtains frame the walls.
At the center sits a long red velvet sofa.
And on it-
A woman.
Platinum-blonde hair tied into a high ponytail. A sleek black pantsuit. A white fur-trimmed coat draped across her shoulders like a mantle of authority.
Dark red lipstick.
Sharp eyeliner.
In her right hand rests a long cigarette holder, thin smoke rising slowly toward the chandeliers.
Madame Ginko.
Though that's not the whole truth.
Her real name is Ginko Kuzunoha.
And she's my great-grand-aunt.
Yeah.
Learning that little detail about a year ago had been... surprising.
Family.
In a place like this.
Still feels strange sometimes.
But it has advantages.
Like having unrestricted access to the VIP section of the most influential club in the Vortex World.
And it was her who pointed me toward Victor in the first place.
"You are finally here, young one."
Her voice is calm. Flat. Cutting straight through my thoughts.
"Yeah," I reply as I sit down across from her. "It's been a while, Aunt Ginko."
Silence settles between us.
Only the smoke from her cigarette drifts upward, dissolving beneath the chandeliers.
I cross my arms and watch her.
Something's off.
She wouldn't call me here in person for something trivial. We barely talk directly. Usually it's messages. Short ones.
So why now?
Ginko inhales slowly before setting the cigarette holder on a crystal ashtray.
Her eyes lock onto mine.
"I'll be brief."
Her voice is calm.
Cold, even.
"The succession ritual to choose the next Raidou Kuzunoha will take place in two or three years."
My brow furrows slightly.
The succession ritual.
I'm aware of it's existence but I only know that is how the next Raidou Kuzunoha is chosen-the Devil Summoner tasked with maintaining the balance between the human world and the demon world.
I tilt my head.
"And... why are you telling me that?"
A faint smile forms on her red lips.
"Because," she says, lifting her cigarette holder again, "you are one of the candidates."
The room somehow becomes even quieter.
Candidate.
I stare at her for a moment before exhaling softly through my nose.
"That's funny," I say. "I don't remember volunteering."
Ginko chuckles.
Soft.
Amused.
"Oh, young one..."
She leans forward slightly, eyes sharper now.
"In the Kuzunoha family, no one volunteers."
The conversation drifts on for a while after that.
Strange.
We rarely talk like this.
The last time we had a real conversation was about ten months ago-when she pointed me toward Victor.
Despite the distance between us, she's always given advice when I needed it.
And... in her own way...
She cares.
That's enough.
My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp snap.
Ginko's fingers.
"You were distracted," she says firmly. "Listen when I speak."
I straighten slightly.
"Some summoners spend half their lives trying to reach the level you've reached but it only took you two years."
Her eyes narrow slightly.
She pauses and takes another slow drag from her cigarette.
"But that is often how tragedies begin."
Her gaze sharpens like a blade.
"People like you tend to change the world."
She exhales smoke into the air.
Another pause.
"For better or for worse."
The ember at the tip of her cigarette glows faintly.
The conversation ended soon after.
Aunt Ginko was never one to waste words.
Neither was I.
I left the VIP lounge in silence, the golden corridor stretching before me once again. The chandeliers glittered overhead, but I barely noticed them now.
One thought refused to leave.
Raidou Kuzunoha.
The title echoed inside my head like a bell.
A Devil Summoner entrusted with preserving the balance between the human world and the demon world.
I never asked for that.
I don't want to protect balance.
I don't want to become a hero.
I only want one thing.
To become...
The Eminence in Shadow.
Nothing more.
Yet...
Her words refused to disappear.
People like you tend to change the world.
I clicked my tongue.
"...That's a troublesome thing to say."
Whether I wanted it or not...
The world had already begun moving.
----------
The Club Cretaceous was as lively as ever when I descended the stairs.
Music.
Conversations.
The faint scent of expensive liquor.
Nothing had changed.
And yet...
Everything somehow felt different.
Maybe because I remembered the first time I came here.
Back then...
Power was the only thing on my mind.
I practically lived inside the Vortex World.
Weeks would pass before I returned to Earth.
Eventually, weeks became months.
Three months.
Three straight months wandering the Vortex World.
No real sleep and barely enough food.
Every waking moment was another battle.
Another hunt.
Another demon.
Another tiny step toward strength.
Looking back...
I wasn't training.
I was just destroying myself.
...
The memory is still vivid.
My body refused to move.
My COMP had almost run dry.
Even breathing hurt.
Every muscle in my body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together by someone who hated me.
I remember thinking...
Just one more fight.
Then darkness.
And a woman's voice.
"You are too young to die."
"Do not act rashly."
That was the first thing she ever said to me.
There wasn't a trace of kindness in her voice.
Only anger and disappointment.
I tried to sit up.
Worst decision imaginable.
Pain exploded through my entire body.
She simply folded her arms and looked down at me without saying another word.
Back then...
I thought she was just another annoying adult trying to lecture me.
The next time I opened my eyes...
I was inside Club Cretaceous.
Aunt Ginko spent the better part of an hour scolding me.
Then, somewhere during that conversation, she casually revealed we were related.
I still remember staring at her for almost a full minute.
My great-grand-aunt.
Not exactly the kind of relative most people expect to find running one of the most influential establishments in the hidden world of Devil Summoners.
Since then...
Our relationship has mostly consisted of advice.
Brief conversations.
Occasional messages.
Nothing more.
I'd like to know her better someday.
Maybe.
By the time I returned to the present...
I was already back in Tokyo.
Crossing from the Vortex World into the human world always felt strange.
People here believed they were safe.
They walked through crowded streets without ever looking over their shoulders.
They laughed.
Complained about exams, work, traffic, love, ...
None of them realized how fragile everything really was.
One demon or one insane Summoner.
That was all it took.
Everything they knew could disappear overnight.
I glanced toward the distant silhouette of Mount Fuji rising against the horizon.
Honestly...
With my current strength, destroying that mountain wouldn't even be particularly difficult anymore.
I've come a long way.
Farther than I imagined two years ago.
Which raises another question.
Why hasn't the world already fallen apart?
Summoners possess absurd destructive power.
Even Dark Summoners.
Yet... incidents are surprisingly contained.
Take the last Dark Summoner I killed.
He only destroyed a single building.
Someone with his power could have erased an entire district.
So why didn't he?
...
No idea.
Though the official explanation never changes.
"Gas leak."
I almost laughed.
At this point, whenever I hear those two words...
I automatically assume demons were involved.
After wandering for a while, I stop atop the roof of an abandoned warehouse.
I slip my pitch-black mask over my face without activating its effect.
I sense them immediately.
About a dozen people.
"Seriously..."
"Gangsters have gotten bolder since I left."
I kick downward.
The rooftop window explodes beneath my foot.
Glass rains across the warehouse as I land softly among them.
The gang leader turns toward me, pistol already aimed at a terrified woman shielding her husband behind her.
"HEY! WHO THE-"
He never finishes.
I appear in front of him.
My hand closes around his wrist.
Twist.
Rip.
His entire hand comes off before his brain even realizes what happened.
The pistol clatters harmlessly across the floor.
Silence.
Then-
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"
Too loud.
Without wasting another second...
I move.
One step.
One kick.
Another.
Legs shatter like dry branches.
One after another.
Ten men.
Ten broken pairs of legs.
The entire exchange lasts less than an instant.
By the time I stop...
They're all on the ground screaming.
Honestly...
They could scream a little quieter.
For a brief moment...
A thought crosses my mind.
Should I kill them?
Humans produce considerably more Magatsuhi than demons of the same level.
...
No.
Not worth it.
They're ordinary humans.
The amount of Magatsuhi I'd gain would be negligible.
And more importantly...
The CTR would start asking questions.
That's the last thing I want.
The couple I'd just rescued begins screaming too.
...
There are really noisy.
I don't even feel like putting on an Eminence in Shadow performance today.
I crouch slightly.
Then-
BOOM!
The warehouse explodes behind me under the force of the sonic boom as I launch myself into the night sky.
My destination is already decided.
The Bar of Fortune.
I've rested enough.
If I want to become stronger...
Then there's only one thing left to do.
Go back to the Vortex World.
And hunt.