LOCATION: TYLNE HEIGHTS / THE RED HOUSE
The bar was quiet, dimly lit by old lanterns and flickering wall flames. Rain tapped gently against the windows as the smell of smoke and aged wood filled the air.
Karma sat alone at the counter, dressed in black, a dark coat hugging his shoulders like a shadow. He swirled a half-empty glass of whiskey slowly, eyes lost in thought, jaw clenched. The city of Tylne never slept, but tonight… it felt quieter. Too quiet.
Then the door creaked open.
Without looking up, Karma muttered, "If you've come to waste my time, at least bring a drink with you."
But the footsteps were too familiar.
He turned.
A tall figure stood just inside the doorway, dripping from the rain, but with a grin on his face. "Still drinking that bitter stuff after all these years?" Lazario asked, walking toward him.
Karma's body tensed for a second — just a second — before he composed himself. He turned fully, eyes sharp. "You," he said, voice low. "I thought I imagined you for a moment."
"I get that a lot," Lazario smirked, taking the seat beside him. "Surprised?"
The tall man walked closer, removing his hood. He looked the same—unchanged by time, eyes still sharp, with a smirk that said he knew too much.
Karma's voice turned cold, but calm. "Let's say… I'm unsettled. It's not every night a ghost walks in."
Lazario gave a slight grin and pulled a stool beside him. "And yet, here I am. A pleasant surprise, no?"
Karma chuckled darkly. "Depends on who's surprised. I was just wondering how much longer peace would last in this city."
Lazario raised an eyebrow. "Is it so bad to visit your maker?"
Karma's smile faded. "Not at all. But I don't enjoy riddles. You didn't cross kingdoms just to sit at my side and reminisce. So, what do you want?"
Lazario's gaze grew serious. "I come bearing questions. Where's the Demon Slayer?"
Karma's amusement evaporated. The glass stopped mid-swing and settled back on the counter with a quiet clink. "That's not something you ask lightly."
"And yet I just did," Lazario replied calmly.
Karma turned to face him, eyes hard as stone. "That sword was stolen. Someone ambushed Courage. Nearly killed him. And they took it."
"Word travels," Lazario said simply. "It reached me."
Karma's voice dropped to a low growl. "From who?"
Lazario looked down at the table. "Rumors don't sign their names."
Something shifted in Karma. His eyes began to glow faint yellow as the air around him thickened with power. The glass on the bar trembled slightly. "And now… you, of all people, come crawling out of the past asking questions I don't like. and expect me to believe it's just curiosity?". So I'll ask again, old friend—what do you know about the sword?"
Lazario met his gaze without flinching. "Nothing certain. Just… rumours. Whispers. People talk, Karma. Especially when they think you're not listening."
Karma's eyes glowed yellow, bright and furious.
The glass in his hand cracked.
His voice was like a growl. "You think I'm blind to manipulation? You think after 3000 years living, I wouldn't recognize someone digging where they shouldn't?. Are you planning to kill me?."
Lazario's expression softened, voice steady. "I never came to harm you, Karma. You're the Primeval Incursio — my origin, my blood. If you die, I die. We're bound deeper than you want to admit."
He stepped forward, power vibrating off him.
But Lazario lifted a hand calmly. "Easy. There are humans in this bar. If you go full monster right now, you'll scare everyone here."
Karma paused, breathing heavily. His fangs had slightly extended, his hands shaking not with fear—but rage. He turned his head slightly, eyes scanning the room. A couple drunk locals. The bartender.
He exhaled sharply and looked back at Lazario.
"Fine," Karma said, voice lower now. "But don't mistake restraint for forgiveness."
Lazario smiled faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Karma leaned in, his face inches away. His voice was cold and calm again, but that dangerous edge lingered. "If you're here for the sword… or for something worse… just know this: I created you. I can end you. Slowly."
Lazario met his stare. "I'm not your enemy, Keon. But the thing that stole that blade? It might be."
Karma pulled back, swirling the rest of his whiskey before downing it.
"Then let's hope it dies before I kill it myself".
LOCATION: THE ALSTAVO RESIDENCE
Lydia stood by her bedroom balcony, the wind teasing through her long black hair as she held her phone to her ear, her voice calm—but her mind restless.
"Lydia," came Dona's voice, tight with panic and sorrow. "It's happening."
Lydia didn't need her to explain further. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. "Felix?"
"Yes," Dona whispered. "He tried to attack Fiona this morning. I had to knock him out with a containment spell."
Lydia's voice hardened, though sympathy still lingered behind her eyes. "The Larkin Reaper Curse. So… it has begun."
"I should've listened," Dona said, her voice cracking. "I thought maybe my twins could be the exception… but I see now I was wrong. Rogna Qel's curse—it's real. It's always been real."
Lydia didn't reply at first. She stared out at the evening sky, her jaw clenched. "I was there the night Rogna placed it on your bloodline. She warned your ancestors: never more than one child, or their souls would tear each other apart. No one listened."
"I don't want my daughter to go through what I did," Dona continued, more desperate now. "You remember… I—" she choked, "I killed my own brother, Lydia. I thought I was protecting myself, but it left a scar I never healed from."
Lydia's voice softened. "I remember, Dona. I was the one who buried him."
Silence passed briefly between them before Lydia continued, "You want Fiona to stay here?"
"If she can. Just until I figure something out. I don't trust anyone else, and I know you have the means to protect her. And Courage—he'll make her feel safe."
Lydia's gaze dropped to the garden below, where Courage had once learned to walk. "She can stay as long as she needs," she said. "Tylne is dangerous, but not for someone under my protection. I'll send Courage to pick her up before nightfall."
"Thank you," Dona breathed. "You don't know what this means to me."
"I do," Lydia replied, her voice tinged with old pain. "And tell Fiona… she'll be safe here. As long as I draw breath."
As the call ended, Lydia set the phone down on her dresser and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Despite the youthful skin cursed to never wrinkle, her eyes held centuries of loss and wariness.
She whispered softly to herself, "Let's hope Fiona Larkin survives what her bloodline never could."
Then she turned and walked out, already summoning Courage to prepare for the journey.
Location: The Larkin Residence
As the blur of movement slowed, Courage came to a stop beside his black SUV parked near the edge of the old road. Dust settled around them, Fiona still in his arms, clinging to him with wide, terrified eyes.
He gently set her down by the car. "You okay?" he asked, opening the door for her.
Fiona nodded slowly, still catching her breath. "Yeah... I think so. That was—fast."
Courage smirked. "Super speed tends to do that. Kind of my thing."
She glanced back toward the direction of the house, her voice shaking. "Felix… he looked like he didn't even recognize me."
Courage's face darkened. "It's the curse. It makes you lose yourself. I've seen it before."
Fiona looked up at him. "He was really going to kill me, wasn't he?"
He paused, then nodded. "Yeah… he was."
A silence fell between them. The only sound was Fiona's shaky breathing and the low hum of the car engine starting.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Courage gave a small smile. "I wasn't going to let anything happen to you."
As she climbed into the passenger seat, Fiona asked quietly, "Where are we going?"
"To Tylne," Courage replied. "My mother says you'll be safe there."
"And Keon?" she added, hesitantly. "He's there too, right?"
Courage raised a brow. "You remember him?"
"I think so," she whispered. "In the pictures, He held me when I was a baby."
Courage chuckled. "Yeah, well… he remembers you too."
He shut the door, got behind the wheel, and the car rolled off into the long road ahead, heading straight toward the Alstavo residence.
Location: The Alstavo Household
The sky over Tylne was draped in a bruised shade of violet as evening crept in. Shadows stretched across the gravel road leading to the Alstavo Residence—a grand estate that stood like a dark, ancient sentinel over the edge of the city. Black iron gates opened slowly, responding to the signal from a sleek, obsidian Mercedes-Benz S-Class gliding up the driveway like a prowling predator.
The car was pristine. A luxurious beast. Tinted windows, black chrome trim, a V8 engine that purred like a panther. Its headlights sliced through the mist, illuminating the marble steps of the estate. The emblem glinted—polished, proud. It was not a car for the faint-hearted. It was a statement.
The door swung open.
Karma stepped out.
Sharp suit. Black-on-black. No tie. His coat swept behind him like a shadow. He paused, gaze lifting to the house. Nothing had changed. And that's what unsettled him. The Alstavo Residence had the same brooding presence it had for centuries. But something in the air felt different—disturbed.
And then, as expected, the front doors opened.
Lydia.
She emerged gracefully, her black hair like silk trailing down her shoulders, not a wrinkle to betray the centuries. Immortality had its perks. She wore a deep wine-colored gown, elegant and intentional.
"Keon," she said warmly, too warmly, stepping forward. "I was wondering when you'd—"
"Oh, do spare me the theatrics," Karma cut in, voice like chilled velvet, sharp and poised. "Welcoming me has never been among your favourite hobbies. So unless you've undergone a sudden change of heart… drop the act, mother."
She held his gaze, lips pressing into a thin smile. "Still charming as ever."
"Still pretending as ever," he replied, eyes narrowing.
Before either could say another word, a second car engine purred behind them. Karma turned his head slightly.
A grey SUV approached and parked near the steps. Courage stepped out first, the younger Incursio's face lit up the moment he saw his brother.
"Brother!" he called, shutting the door and walking toward him.
In the passenger seat, Fiona Larkin stepped out quietly. She wore a soft, emerald green coat, her auburn hair tied loosely. Her wide eyes scanned the estate as if it were a castle pulled from memory—because it was.
Lydia turned with a sigh and walked back into the house. No words, but her look said enough—an old argument that never ended.
Fiona hesitated, then followed the house staff who were already taking her things inside. But before she disappeared through the door, she turned her head slightly.
Karma was still watching her.
"Hey," Courage said, waving a hand. "You even listening to me?"
Karma blinked, then gave a sigh. "Courage, I have super hearing . You snapping your fingers in my face is more insulting than helpful."
Courage smirked. "Ohhh. Okay, okay, fair enough."
Then, he leaned in slightly. "You know… I think she likes you."
Karma raised a brow, then smirked faintly—a rare crack in his marble expression.
He turned, walking toward the doors. "Well then, that makes one of you."
And with that, he entered inside the house.
The Alstavo Residence was silent, save for the ticking of the antique clock echoing faintly through the stone hallways. The dim chandeliers flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the oak floor as Courage and Karma stepped inside the grand drawing room. The air was thick with tension, the kind that never fully settled in this house.
Karma tossed his coat over the back of a velvet chair, his sharp eyes turning toward Courage with a slow-burning intensity.
"So," Karma began, his voice smooth but laced with irritation, "about the Demon Slayer—do you have anything useful to say, or are we still fumbling in the dark like blind children with daggers?"
Courage crossed his arms. "I'm telling you everything I know. The attacker—"
Karma raised a hand and interrupted. "Did he look like this?" He pulled out his phone and tapped a photo. Lazario. Stoic. Dangerous.
Courage glanced at it and shook his head. "No… it wasn't him."
Karma narrowed his eyes. "You're sure?"
"It wasn't a man," Courage said quietly. "It was… two women."
Karma blinked. The words didn't settle right. His voice rose, sharp like broken glass. "Two women? Really, Courage, do you even hear yourself?! That sword— that sword—isn't something you just let two strangers walk off with!"
"I'm not kidding!" Courage snapped, frustration leaking through his calm.
Karma exhaled, jaw clenched, pacing slightly. "Fantastic. First I lose the only weapon that can end me, and now I find out it was stolen by mystery women. Do you have any idea what this means?"
Before Courage could answer, Lydia's voice echoed from the hallway, soft but firm.
"Boys," she said, appearing in the doorway with her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. "Dinner is ready."
Karma turned slowly, staring at her like she'd just spat in his drink. "Dinner?" he repeated with disbelief. "Isn't it adorable how she pretends this is a normal house."
"Let's go, man," Courage said, trying to change the subject.
Karma rolled his eyes and followed slowly, muttering with a sly smirk, "But you drink blood, brother… what do you even do with a steak?". Courage chuckled, bumping his shoulder. "I know." They headed toward the dining room, the storm between them briefly calmed—but not gone.