The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the green quad of Seishu Academy. Luke Akuma sat on a bench, a placid expression on his face as he listened to the familiar rhythm of his friends' bickering. Beside him, Sato Ichirou, a whirlwind of boundless energy and wild ideas, was passionately arguing some new, utterly nonsensical conspiracy theory. Opposite them, Satoru Kuze, with his sharper wit and an almost scholarly affection for strategy games, was dismantling Ichirou's every point with the cold logic of a chess grandmaster.
"It's true! I'm telling you, the school cafeteria is a front for an interstellar trade guild!" Ichirou insisted, waving his arms dramatically.
"That's a logistical nightmare, Ichirou. You can't just move galactic goods through a local supply chain. The paperwork alone would be a mess," Kuze countered, calmly adjusting his glasses.
Luke didn't bother to listen to the specifics. He had already calculated the logical fallacies in Ichirou's argument and the precise, dry counterpoints Kuze would deploy. It was a comfortable pattern, a predictable dance that let his mind drift to other things. His gaze, distant and unfocused, swept over the manicured lawns and the orderly school buildings. It was then that his subconscious registered a flash of color from the second floor of the main building.
From the window of the student council office, a girl was watching him.
She had striking crimson hair that flowed past her shoulders and emerald green eyes that seemed to glow even from a distance. Luke felt her stare, sharp and direct, but his own gaze remained intentionally unfocused, a practiced nonchalance that gave nothing away. It was a brief, silent exchange, but it left an odd impression, like a whisper in a library.
With a mental shrug, Luke refocused on his friends. He cut their argument short with a simple, quiet statement about the time. "We'll be late for Mr. Tanaka's lecture." The magic words worked every time. Their debate immediately ceased, and they gathered their bags to head to class, the afternoon's quiet anomaly already forgotten by them, if not by Luke.
The school day ended as uneventfully as it began. As the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, Luke made his way home, his mind already running through the day's events. Just then, his phone rang. It was his mother.
"Luke, darling, could you do me a favor? My reading glasses are ready at the eye doctor. I'm running late at work, could you please pick them up for me?"
Luke agreed without hesitation. The eye doctor was only a few blocks out of the way. He completed the small task and continued on his journey. It was near dusk, and the streetlights were beginning to flicker on. As he passed a small, secluded park, a girl suddenly stepped out from behind a large oak tree. She was dressed in a bizarrely frilly, colorful outfit, a magical girl costume that looked like it had been pulled straight from a children's anime.
She smiled brightly, a contrast to the fading light. "You should come check us out sometime," she said, her voice tinkling with an innocent sweetness that felt strangely out of place. She handed him a small, plain card.
He took it and saw a simple, black-ink drawing of a magic circle on its surface. Luke looked up to ask what she was talking about, but she had already vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving a faint, floral scent in the air. He slipped the card into his pocket, a slight frown touching his lips. It was an odd, unexplainable encounter.
The strange feeling that had been building in his gut since he saw the crimson-haired girl returned. It was a prickle at the back of his neck, the undeniable sensation of being watched. He shook his head, dismissing it as paranoia, but the feeling lingered, growing stronger with every step. It was no longer a vague sensation; it was the chilling certainty of a predator stalking its prey.
He turned abruptly down a dark, narrow alleyway, the smell of damp concrete and refuse filling the air. He came to a stop in the center of the alley, his back to a brick wall. The feeling of being watched intensified, settling on him like a heavy cloak.
He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs. He didn't need to turn around. He didn't need to confirm his stalker's location. He knew.
"I know you're there," he said, his voice calm and clear in the sudden stillness. "Come out."
The words hung in the stale alley air, a challenge and an invitation. From the shadows at the other end of the narrow passage, a figure stepped into the dim light of the street lamp.
It was a girl, with long, obsidian black hair that cascaded down her back and a graceful figure that was evident even beneath her school uniform. She wore the standard Seishu Academy blazer, a grey one over a crisp white shirt, with a blue tie and a matching blue skirt. She was a stark, elegant contrast to the grime of the alley. Behind her stood two men in identical black suits, their faces expressionless, their forms like unyielding shadows.
Luke's gaze drifted from the men back to the girl. He didn't need to ask who was in charge. He spoke with a quiet authority that belied his age. "What is it that you want from me?"
The girl's lips curved into a slight, confident smile. "My name is Yuma Chisato," she said, her voice clear and cool.
Luke's mind instantly cross-referenced the name with his mental database of the student body. Yuma Chisato. Second-year. One of the most popular girls at Seishu Academy, with a reputation for both beauty and intelligence. The kind of person who existed in a different social sphere entirely. He didn't show any surprise, just met her gaze with a cold, analytical stare before giving his answer.
"Yes," he confirmed, his voice a flat monotone.
"Then I'm afraid I have to kill you, Luke Akuma," Yuma said, her smile widening as if she were announcing a pleasant piece of news.
Luke's composure didn't break, but a flicker of genuine confusion crossed his mind. He analyzed her words, searching for a logical explanation, but found none. Before he could formulate a response, a shimmering purple aura erupted from her, a sudden storm of arcane power.
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the magical energy enveloped her. Her school uniform tore away, replaced in a flash of light by a form-fitting, skin-tight battle suit that hugged her curves and revealed a significant portion of her chest. From her back, two vast, black wings unfurled, their feathers shimmering with a dark, unnatural light.
It's a fallen angel, a voice in the back of Luke's mind stated with chilling certainty. The thought was a total non-sequitur, a piece of information that felt both alien and profoundly true. What was he seeing? What did that even mean?
He pushed the bizarre thought aside, focusing on the immediate threat. "What do you want with me?" he asked again, his tone unchanged.
Yuma's smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold intent. She raised her hand, and five shimmering magic circles formed in the air before her. They spun with crackling energy, and from their centers, five lances of pure light shot forward, hurtling toward Luke with blinding speed.
Luke let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. His mind calculated the trajectory and velocity of each spear in a fraction of a second. I hate using these eyes, he thought to himself, a flash of annoyance passing through his mind. But I don't really have a choice, do I?
As the first light spear closed in, Luke's black eyes shimmered and changed. The irises turned a brilliant, golden orange, shot through with a beautiful, faded blue pattern that swirled like a galaxy. In this new vision, the world seemed to slow down. He could see the individual particles of light in each spear, could track their precise path.
He didn't bother to move. Instead, he simply tilted his head, letting one spear flash past his ear, then sidestepped the next two with casual ease. He leaned back to avoid the fourth and shifted his weight to let the fifth one sail harmlessly by. He dodged each attack with the bored efficiency of someone swatting away flies.
With all five spears embedded in the brick wall behind him, Luke calmly met Yuma's surprised gaze. "Is that all you can do?" he asked, a hint of disdain in his voice.
A slow smile crept across Yuma's face. It wasn't one of amusement, but of confirmation. It seemed that this was exactly what she had expected.
A genuine look of respect, mixed with a hint of irritation, crossed Yuma's face. The boy was a wild card, an anomaly. She had to get serious. The purple aura around her flared, then receded as her massive black wings dissolved into motes of light. In her hands, a long, sinister-looking scythe materialized from the air, its blade a dark, swirling mass.
"Perhaps I might need a more direct approach," she said, her voice now a low, chilling purr.
In an instant, she summoned twelve more magic circles, which spun in a menacing semi-circle behind her. This time, there was no pause. She lunged forward, the scythe a dark streak in the gloom. The circles behind her simultaneously fired a barrage of white light spears, an unending torrent of deadly projectiles.
The alley transformed into a kill box. Luke was forced into a desperate dance of survival. He moved less now, his mind and body working as one, his golden-orange eyes tracking both Yuma's scythe and the twelve incoming spears. He dodged the razor-sharp edge of her blade by an inch, then had to contort his body to let a spear pass just past his ear. Another spear forced him to pivot just as Yuma's scythe swept across his ribs, tearing a clean cut through his blazer.
His high combat ability and adaptability were being pushed to their absolute limits. His mind, accustomed to being leagues ahead, was now struggling to keep pace.
This is bad. If anything, I'll die, a cold, logical part of his mind stated. I can't keep track of her while avoiding the spears. She's faster than them, and me, in close-quarters.
He realized that Yuma was using her speed advantage to force him to deal with the overwhelming number of projectiles. The solution wasn't to dodge everything, but to remove the ranged threat entirely.
With a final, desperate surge of speed, Luke grabbed the second dagger from the ground. With a knife in each hand, he pressed himself against the nearest wall, his body an almost invisible line against the brick. He moved along the wall at a blistering pace, using his daggers to slice through the magical circles as he went.
The sound of his blades carving through the arcane energy was like shattering glass. One, two, three circles winked out of existence, their light spears dissolving mid-air. Yuma's eyes widened in genuine shock, her calculated attack pattern ruined. Her overwhelming advantage vanished in seconds.
Luke came to a stop, his breathing even. His golden eyes locked onto hers. He glanced down at his blazer, where the cuts from the barrage of spears were clear for him to see. "You could give up now," he said, the words a calm declaration in the silent alley. "Some of those spears did almost kill me."
A slow, confident smile returned to Yuma's face. "You really are interesting," she replied, her curiosity outweighing her surprise.
Luke didn't hesitate. His golden eyes flared, and with a sudden, devastating burst of speed, he closed the distance between them. The move was so instantaneous it was less like a charge and more like a teleport. Yuma's eyes widened, her instincts screaming a warning. She didn't have time to summon another scythe or cast a spell. Her only option was to retreat.
She attempted to fly up, her remaining wings, though invisible, flaring with magical energy, attempting to lift her from the ground. It was a solid tactical move, but Luke had already anticipated it. As she began to ascend, he threw the remaining dagger. It spun through the air with deadly accuracy, a glint of metal and power in the dim light.
The dagger's unique, pulsating light-pattern made it a precise weapon. It didn't just pierce her, it targeted and severed the magical connection to her left wing. A small, almost imperceptible shriek escaped her lips as her body jolted. Her ascent was cut short, and her flight abruptly ceased. The unexpected loss of power caused her to fall back to the ground with an undignified thud.
Luke was already there as she landed. He dropped down and pinned her, the remaining dagger now held with cold efficiency and pressed against her throat.
For the first time since their encounter began, a flicker of genuine fear appeared in Yuma's emerald eyes. He wasn't just fast or strong; he was intelligent, capable of adapting to an enemy she couldn't comprehend. He's dangerous, even if he's a human, she thought, the words a chilling echo of her earlier surprise.
Her fear vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by her usual composure. A confident, almost triumphant smile returned to her lips. She was no longer pinned; she was testing him.
"What are you going to do now, Luke Akuma?" she whispered, the question a quiet challenge that hung in the tense silence of the alley.
"What do you want from me?" Luke asked, the dagger at her throat a cold, silent threat. "And why do you want me dead?"
Yuma's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She remained silent, her expression guarded and vague, like a closed book.
Of course she's not telling me anything, Luke thought, his gaze unwavering. She is fallen after all. The strange thought from earlier returned, and this time, it made perfect, terrifying sense. Beings like her wouldn't reveal their true purpose to a mere human.
His expression hardened. "I take it you won't talk even if I kill you." He spoke the words with absolute certainty. "But I don't really do killing."
A small, knowing smile crept across her face. "Even if I told you anything, it wouldn't matter," she replied calmly. "I was just a distraction."
The word hit Luke with the force of a physical blow. Distraction? He glanced around the alley, his eyes seeing the subtle shifts in the air, the faint echoes of the magic circles that had been there just moments before. He looked back at Yuma, his mind a storm of calculations. "What do you mean?"
Yuma's smile widened, no longer cold but filled with a cruel satisfaction. "I was just buying time for my superiors. They might not let you live now that you've been deemed a variable." She gestured to the open air. "You have about ten minutes before they arrive to correct the mistake I've made."
Luke's golden eyes narrowed, their unique pattern analyzing her face. Her heartbeat, her eye movements, the minute details of her expression—they all confirmed she wasn't lying.
A gamble, he thought. The odds were slim, but Yuma's demeanor suggested her loyalty wasn't ironclad. Her reaction to his earlier threat confirmed that fear, however slight, was a tool that could be used. This might work.
"I have a proposition," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "If I survive this, you have to work with me."
Yuma's laughter was a short, sharp sound. It was almost a gasp of surprise. "You're serious?" she asked. "Why would a human like you make such a bargain? What makes you so sure that you'll survive? And that I won't betray you when you let me go?"
Luke's golden eyes blazed with a cold, terrifying intensity that was a direct reflection of his ruthless personality. It was more than a stare—it was a promise of pain.
Yuma's confident posture stiffened, and her breath hitched for the barest fraction of a second. She became just a little shaky. "Fine," she said, her voice softer than before. "I agree."
She then frowned slightly and looked down. "Um, Luke," she said, a hint of awkwardness in her tone. "You're kind of touching something, somewhere else."
Luke glanced down and realized with a jolt that in his haste to pin her, his hand had landed squarely on her breast. He immediately pulled his hand back, a rare flicker of discomfort crossing his face.
With the threat gone, the purple aura around her dissolved, and her battle suit shimmered, changing back into her proper school uniform. She stood up, smoothing her skirt, and then walked toward him with a slow, deliberate grace. "If you want," she said, her voice low and seductive, "I can give you my body."
Luke simply dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Go."
Yuma's smile returned, this time with a playful lilt. "You're no fun," she teased before she turned and disappeared from the alley.
Left alone in the now-silent alley, Luke's eyes returned to their natural black. He walked toward the nearby park, a place of peace and normalcy that now felt alien to him. He sat down on a cold bench, the weight of the past ten minutes settling over him. He knew he couldn't run. He couldn't put the people he cared about in danger.
This is stupid, he thought, the words a weary resignation. But I don't really have a choice, do I?
As Luke sat on the cold bench, the reality of his new situation began to sink in. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small card the magical girl had given him. He stared at the plain black magic circle on its surface, wondering what she had meant. A sense of unease returned, a prickling on his skin that was all too familiar. It was the same presence he had felt from Yuma, but this time, it was far more potent, like a chilling weight settling over the entire park.
Without a moment's hesitation, Luke's eyes shifted from their natural black to the brilliant golden-orange with the intricate blue pattern. His vision immediately changed. He saw them then, a complete circle of twenty figures surrounding him, their faces shrouded in the shadows of the park's trees. He could feel their raw, oppressive power. These weren't just distractions; these were on a whole different level, worse than Yuma's lackeys.
From the shadows, two figures emerged. The first was a woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with an alluring figure and dark hair pulled into a severe ponytail. She wore a stylish, form-fitting dress that, from its design, was clearly meant for combat, and two deadly blades rested at her sides. Her eyes were a stunning, vivid red. The second was a man who looked middle-aged, with striking purple eyes and rich, golden-brown hair. He wore a long, flowing black coat that seemed to absorb the ambient light.
The man smiled, an expression of amused confidence. "Are you Luke Akuma?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.
Luke's expression remained unreadable. "And what if I am?" he replied, the question a vague answer.
"Very well," the man said, his smile widening. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lamina Mortis, one of the higher-ranking fallen angels. And this is my master and one of the fallen angel governors, Lady Kyra."
A governor? Luke's mind immediately went into overdrive. No. Something was off. He had already dealt with a high-ranking fallen angel, so why would a governor, a being of immense power, have a need to kill him? She clearly wanted something, or this was a personal vendetta. He doubted she needed twenty people to take him down when she or even Lamina could do it with ease. But he couldn't waste time thinking about that now. He needed to deal with the immediate threat.
As the twenty figures charged at him in a perfectly coordinated wave, Luke drew the two daggers he had taken from his last fight. The daggers were crude tools compared to his new abilities, but they were sufficient. He knew he couldn't waste time with a prolonged battle. He had to end this quickly.
Luke used his eyes, seeing the perfect lines of symmetry on each of his enemies—lines only he could perceive, running through their forms. With a final, explosive burst of speed that left a small crater in the concrete bench beneath him, he lunged forward.
He was a blur of motion, a golden-orange streak in the dusk. He moved through the charging figures, the blades in his hands cutting with surgical precision. He didn't just slash and parry; he used his newfound perception to cut directly along the lines of symmetry, a series of quick, silent, and fatal strikes.
In less than three seconds, the twenty figures fell to the ground, their forms dissolving into dark dust. Luke stood in the center of the now-empty space, his breathing even. He calmly looked at the daggers in his hands. Luckily, they aren't human, he thought, a sense of grim relief washing over him.
He then turned his golden-eyed gaze toward Lady Kyra, who was still smiling, her red eyes filled with fascination. She finally spoke, her voice like tinkling bells.
"My, you're a fascinating boy," she said, her smile broadening. "Your talent is quite remarkable, and those eyes of yours are quite beautiful."
Luke's expression remained neutral. "I don't believe in talent," he replied, his voice a flat monotone. "This is just my training."
Kyra laughed lightly, a soft, amused sound. "I see," she replied.
"What do you want?" Luke asked, getting straight to the point. "I see no reason for a fallen angel governor to be after me unless she has her own personal motives."
Kyra's smile widened, a hint of genuine amusement on her lips. "You're quite perceptive."
Luke's assumption had been right. This wasn't a standard hit job; it was something else entirely. Something personal. He didn't have time to fully process the implications, though. He was standing in a park, surrounded by fallen angels, in a life-or-death situation he couldn't simply walk away from.
Kyra's smile remained as she took a step closer. The air around her shifted, growing heavy with a power that far surpassed anything Luke had felt from Yuma.
"I would like you to join my faction," she said, her voice dropping to a low, melodic pitch. "And if you do, I will help you unlock the full potential of the apostles' eyes."
The calm composure Luke had maintained for so long finally faltered. His mind raced, his face betraying a flicker of genuine surprise. How did she even know what they are? He had just discovered their existence himself, or at least that's what he had thought.
He didn't acknowledge her offer directly. Instead, he chose to get to the heart of the matter. "What do you even want to achieve?" he asked, his voice steady once more.
Kyra's smile didn't waver. "That's not important. I just want you to join me, and I promise you won't regret it." She leaned forward slightly, her alluring figure shifting as she did. The neckline of her dress dipped, revealing a bit more of her chest. "Or maybe I should have offered something else?"
As a man, Luke knew exactly what she was doing. It was a blatantly inappropriate and manipulative move. He couldn't help but notice the curve of her body, but his mind immediately shut down the physical reaction, refusing to be drawn in by such a transparent tactic. He kept his expression neutral, his composure a perfect mask.
Kyra, however, noticed his momentary gaze. Her smile became more predatory. "My, could it be you're craving me, Luke Akuma?"
Luke met her gaze directly, his golden eyes cold and unyielding. The seductive atmosphere she was trying to create was shattered by his response.
"Don't flatter yourself."
Kyra's smile lingered, a faint, teasing curve to her lips. "How cold of you. I was going to let you have me."
Luke just gave her the same shut down and said, "Just get to the point. I can't keep this face for long," since his patience was wearing thin.
Kyra's smile instantly vanished, replaced by a calm, serious expression. This was the real Kyra, a being of power and purpose. She began to outline the terms of her offer, her voice low and steady. "Join my faction, and I will protect you from those who would use you for your power. I will tell you everything you want to know about your eyes. The apostles' eyes, as they are known, are a powerful legacy, and I can help you unlock their full potential. In return, you will become my greatest weapon. My pawn. A king I can control on a board that is much larger than you can imagine."
Luke listened, his mind calm and calculative despite the high-stakes offer. He didn't know how she knew the name of his eyes, but the knowledge she possessed was a powerful temptation. But he also knew the price. To become a puppet for someone like her was a fate far worse than death. The risk of her betrayal, of what she would truly do to him, was not worth the reward.
"While tempting," he said, his voice flat and final, "I decline."
A slow, sinister smile crept across Kyra's face, a sharp contrast to her previous composure. The change was so sudden and complete that a shiver of unease went through Luke. He knew instinctively that this was not going to end well. His body tensed, every muscle coiling like a spring, ready for an attack.
Kyra pulled a pair of shimmering blades from their sheaths, the weapons themselves humming with suppressed power. "Let's see how you'll survive this," she said, her voice now a low, chilling whisper.
With that, she blitzed forward, her speed a blur of motion, her movements as fluid and lethal as a striking snake. Luke responded in kind, his own form a streak of golden-orange as he met her head-on. The two figures collided in a shower of sparks and a high-pitched metallic screech.
The fight that followed was breathtaking, a blur of impossible speed and tactical precision. Blades flashed in the dim light, their movements so fast they left shimmering afterimages. They went clash for clash, their steps leaving small, spiderweb cracks on the concrete. The sound of steel on steel was a constant, sharp rhythm, punctuated by the occasional gust of displaced air. Lamina Mortis, standing a short distance away, watched with a pleased smile, his quiet praise audible only in the briefest pauses.
"Remarkable," he murmured. "She's even more powerful than I thought."
Kyra and Luke were in their own world, their focus singular and complete. They couldn't afford a single mistake. They were locked in a dangerous dance of death, neither able to gain an advantage as the seconds bled into an eternity.
As the martial arts battle raged on, Luke's mind, despite the intensity of the moment, was still working at full capacity. His opponent's skills were immense, but something didn't add up. Kyra was a governor, a being of power. Yet, her subordinate, Lamina, had simply stood by and watched the entire battle like it was nothing more than entertainment. No true subordinate would remain so detached while their master was in a life-or-death fight, even if it was a mock battle.
A sudden, cold certainty solidified in Luke's mind.
He broke away from Kyra's stance, his eyes locking onto Lamina Mortis. He didn't bother to fight Kyra anymore. He just spoke, his voice cutting through the tense air of the battlefield.
"Miss Kyra, Lamina Mortis is the real governor, isn't he?"
Kyra froze, her eyes widening in genuine, unmasked surprise. She stared at Luke as if he had just spoken an impossible truth. She hadn't expected him to figure it out, not so quickly. Lamina's smug, amused expression also vanished, replaced by a grim scowl. He looked at Luke with a newfound malice.
"You really are a dangerous boy, Luke Akuma," Lamina said, his voice dropping to a low, sinister purr. "You might actually need to die now."
Luke's eyes widened, not in fear, but in recognition of the threat. But he didn't have a chance to react. Before his mind could even process a strategy, Lamina was there. There was no sound, no flash of light, just a cold, searing pain that erupted from his chest. A black blade was thrust into his heart, twisting to hit his vital organs.
Luke's senses screamed in protest as his body was brutally violated. He coughed, a violent, wet sound as a torrent of blood spewed from his lips, covering the cobblestones. The golden-orange light in his eyes flickered, and he crumpled to the ground, the world spinning as his strength rapidly drained away.
Kyra looked at the fallen Luke, a complicated expression on her face. "Should we take his special eyes?" she asked, her voice tinged with a strange concern.
"No," Lamina said, his face cold and unfeeling as he pulled his blade from Luke's body. "Even if we did, they'd still return to him. The power is his alone. For now, we withdraw. He's finished."
With that, the two high-ranking fallen angels vanished as quickly as they appeared, leaving Luke to die alone in the dark alley.
Luke lay in a pool of his own blood, his vision blurring, the pain a distant echo in his fading senses. He was losing strength fast, the icy grip of death closing in. He stared at his hand, trying to move it. A faint glow caught his eye. It was the card from the magical girl, still tucked in his pocket. He reached for it, his fingers barely closing around the edges before his strength gave out entirely. The card slipped from his grasp and landed in the pool of his own blood.
As it touched the crimson liquid, the card glowed with an intense crimson light. A large, complex magic circle appeared above him, its symbols a swirling vortex of power. From the center of the circle, a figure began to descend. It was the crimson-haired girl from the student council office. She was now wearing the same Seishu Academy uniform, and a soft, beautiful crimson aura emanated from her.
She looked down at Luke's dying form. Her emerald eyes, though filled with power, held a touch of sadness.
"If you wish to live, then live for me, if your heart desires," she said, her voice echoing in his fading consciousness.
Luke had no time to think. He couldn't die yet. He couldn't leave his friends. He still had to deal with Lamina Mortis.
His heart, a cold, empty void now, somehow found the strength to make a decision.
"I agree," he whispered, the words barely audible.
The girl's sad expression vanished, replaced by a look of grim determination. "Very well," she said, her words a final promise. "You shall live for me."
The world went black.