The evening air hung thick and heavy, the faint hum of traffic blending with the quiet rhythm of life in the city. Akira adjusted his jacket, stepping into the familiar scent of sports gear and leather as he entered the shop. The manager, an older man with kind eyes and a clipboard always in hand, looked up in surprise.
"Akira? You finally decided to show up?"
Akira scratched the back of his neck, offering a small grin. "Yeah… sorry about that. I had a few things to deal with."
The man sighed, but his expression softened. "You've been gone for weeks, kid. Thought you got a better offer."
"Not really," Akira chuckled. "I just needed to clear my head."
"Well," the manager said, flipping a page on his clipboard, "grab your uniform. You still remember how to handle the counter, right?"
Akira smirked. "I'll manage."
He slipped into his uniform, the crisp smell of detergent faintly mixing with the musk of new shoes and rubber balls. As the clock ticked toward closing, Akira felt an unusual calm — like the quiet before a storm.
Then, the bell above the door chimed.
A tall man stepped in. His presence was immediate — deliberate. His eyes were an icy gray, sharp and unreadable. Black hair, faintly silver-tipped, fell neatly over his forehead. He wore a sleek, dark coat that seemed to absorb the light around him. His build was lean but radiated a quiet strength. Every step was precise — graceful but dangerous.
"Welcome," Akira said, forcing a polite smile, though his instincts screamed something was wrong.
The man didn't look at the items. His gaze flicked toward Akira, and for a fraction of a second, something ancient flickered behind those cold eyes. Then, just as quickly, he smiled — faint, unsettling.
"I was just passing by," he said, his voice calm, steady. "Wanted to see how this place feels."
The manager, unaware of the tension, greeted him warmly. "Take your time, sir. We're about to close."
The man nodded and slowly walked toward the back aisle, hands in his coat pockets. But when Akira turned around again… he was gone.
A shiver ran down Akira's spine.
Outside, in the quiet stretch behind the store — where the streetlights barely reached — the stranger stood still. Waiting.
Ren appeared, materializing out of the dark mist. His crimson eyes glowed faintly under the dim light, his aura like a living storm.
"Varek," Ren said coldly. "What are you doing here?"
The man smirked faintly, turning toward him. "I'm here under the order of my master. I have another task. Don't involve yourself, Ren. Keep your child's play ahead and do your job properly."
Ren's expression hardened, his voice dropping into a growl. "You think you can just walk into my territory and lecture me?"
Varek's tone remained calm, detached. "I don't think. I know."
That was the last thread holding Ren's patience. In a blur, his body moved — liquid-fast, soundless. His fist, wrapped in shadowed energy, cut through the air.
But before it could reach Varek, the world shifted.
Everything around them twisted — the walls, the ground, the very air. Ren blinked, and in a heartbeat, they were no longer behind the shop. They were inside a distorted void — a barren world of howls and suffering. Echoes of countless cries clawed through the black horizon.
Varek's laughter echoed. "Welcome to the hollow pit, Ren. My Domain of Lamentation."
Ren's eyes narrowed. "You never changed…"
"Changed?" Varek smiled cruelly. "I was born to suffer, Ren. I simply learned to enjoy it."
Ren's shadow pulsed, and dark veins spread through the ground beneath him. His aura ignited like black flame — violent, uncontained. "You talk too much."
Varek spread his arms, grinning. "Then silence me, if you can."
Ren moved. His fist blazed with shadow light, channeling his newest awakened technique — Abyssal Dominion — a violent surge of compressed darkness that devours everything it touches. The shockwave of his strike shattered the void floor as it lunged toward Varek.
Varek smirked and countered by crossing his arms. The air around him bent and screamed. "Echo of Perdition!"
A pulse of cursed energy erupted from his body, twisting Ren's attack midair and redirecting it — not at him, but toward the wailing souls scattered across the void. Their cries rose in agony as the energy consumed them.
Ren froze for a second — fury flashing in his crimson eyes. "You're using them to absorb my power?"
Varek tilted his head, smiling like a man entertained by his own madness. "They were already lost. I'm simply recycling the pain."
Ren clenched his jaw. "Enough."
His aura spiked again — shadows spiraling like black lightning. The dark energy compressed around his arm, glowing violently. He tore through the distorted air and slammed his hand forward. The entire domain cracked like glass, fracturing under the weight of Ren's unleashed will.
The world shattered.
And in the next instant, they were back — the quiet street behind the shop, the faint hum of the city returning like nothing had happened.
Varek brushed invisible dust off his coat. "Impressive. Still the same fury."
Ren's voice was low, trembling with rage. "Go do your task, Varek. Don't ever get in my way."
Varek turned, eyes half-lidded, calm as ever. "I don't care, Ren. Leave me be." He walked past him, disappearing into the darkness as his shadow folded around him like smoke.
Ren stood still, the dark energy fading from his body. The faint sound of traffic returned, but the air remained heavy — like the world itself remembered the clash.
—
Inside the shop, Akira was finishing his shift. He placed the final box on the shelf, the echoes of the day's chatter long gone.
"Good work today, Akira," his manager said, locking the register.
"Thanks," Akira replied, removing his uniform vest. He leaned against the counter, exhaling. "Man… what a face. I can't even forget him."
A faint whisper came from the black pendant hanging at his neck.
"Hey, kid."
Akira blinked. "Masahiro?"
"Yeah. That man you saw — he's not ordinary. His real name is Mugen."
"Mugen?" Akira muttered. "You mean… Varek?"
Masahiro's tone darkened. "Yes. One of my brothers. The strongest among my group… and the most unstable. Don't take him lightly. He thrives on chaos."
Akira frowned, slipping on his jacket. "Great. Just what I needed."
As he stepped outside, the orange hue of dusk spread across the streets. He walked along the quiet road, thoughts tangled between Varek's calm menace and Masahiro's warning.
Then, out of nowhere — someone bumped into him. Hard.
"Kid," a familiar voice said.
Akira looked up to see Ryozen, holding a bag of canned coffee, smirking. "You're spacing out again. What's on your mind?"
Akira smiled faintly. "Nothing much. Just… a weird day at work."
Ryozen took a sip, studying him. "You walked through our department's zone again. The cameras caught you. So… how's the job treating you?"
Akira sighed. "It's fine. But there was this guy — tall, black coat, sharp eyes. He gave off a weird feeling."
Ryozen paused. "A weird feeling?"
Akira nodded. "Yeah. His name's Varek."
Ryozen's eyes flickered with recognition. "Oh. So Mugen's back."
Akira blinked. "Wait—you know him?"
Ryozen nodded slowly. "I sensed his presence earlier. And Ren's too. He came here. Something's moving again."
"So…" Akira's tone turned serious. "We'll have to face them soon?"
Ryozen smiled faintly. "Sooner than you think."
Akira tilted his head. "So how can just the two of us take them on?"
Ryozen chuckled, walking past him. "Who said there'll only be two?"
Akira frowned. "What, you found someone else?"
Ryozen stopped, glancing back with a smirk. "One man. But he's a complete force on his own."
Akira's eyes lit up. "Who?"
"You'll meet him when the time's right," Ryozen said. "Anyway, your station's here. Get some rest."
Akira smiled. "Yeah. See you, old man."
Ryozen waved lazily. "Careful, kid."
As Akira boarded his train, Ryozen glanced down. A small black vortex swirled near his boot, faint and pulsing.
He sighed, amused. "You've started your game, huh?"
The vortex vanished into the wind — leaving the night still, yet filled with silent anticipation.