Boots crunched over shattered glass and twisted metal, each step deliberate, slow, as if the weight of the wreckage clung to him like chains. The fifth floor—what remained of it—stretched before him in jagged silhouettes, half-collapsed hallways leading nowhere, ceiling panels hanging like torn flesh. Dust motes swirled in the fractured beams of emergency lights, their glow weak, flickering like the pulse of a dying thing. He stopped at the edge of a crater where the floor had caved in, staring down at the mess of concrete and steel below. A pillar lay in pieces there, its bulk split open like a gutted animal. And beneath it—
His jaw tightened.
The body was barely recognizable, uniform soaked dark, limbs bent at angles no living thing could sustain. A hand, palm up, fingers curled as if still grasping for something.
A drip of water hit the back of his neck. He didn't wipe it away.
Somewhere in the ruins, a loose cable sparked, casting a brief, ghostly light over the scene. For a second, the shadows of the debris looked like hands reaching. Then darkness swallowed them again.
The mercenary lit another cigarette. The flame trembled—just once—before steadying. He inhaled, held the smoke in his lungs until they burned, then let it coil out between his teeth. The ember glowed, painting his face in brief, bloody flashes. His expression didn't change.
He looked down at the body. A single drop of tear dripped down his cheek.
The cigarette hit the ground. He crushed it under his heel, grinding it into the dust.
"I will kill the son of a bitch." His voice was quiet, flat. The words didn't echo. They sank into the ruins like stones into a lake. "He will not get away with this."
Back at the Kurogumo residence.
"Answer your question? The Something purred, 'Just who do you think you are, boy?' The only thing I'll do for you today is end your pathetic existence. Frankly, considering how low you've sunk, that's technically doing you a favor."
Kiyotogu flinched, his smirk instantly giving way to genuine fear as the Something launched.
In that split second, I gathered every ounce of my strength and rage. With a painful effort, I screamed and forced the Something back under my control.
I collapsed against the wall, utterly spent. Kiyotogu was panting, his expression one of profound shock; he clearly believed he was about to die. After what felt like an eternity, the sliding door to the training hall shuddered in its frame as Masu burst through, his usual composure cracked wide open.
Master, the leader of the Birodo Kairo-Kai's wraith research division has been located. He was observed being moved towards the gang's subterranean research facility. This movement follows the destruction of the eastern stronghold, which was the primary site for wraith mutation research, last night. I possess the precise coordinates of the rendezvous point where the scientist is scheduled to meet with the gang's high-ranking members to plan their next strategic steps before he is relocated underground. This is our moment!
"Underground facility?" Kiyotogu repeated, voice dripping with something between amusement and disgust. "Of course they'd scurry into their holes like rats."
Masu stiffened. "Master, the Birodo's wraith research leader isn't some foot soldier—if their experiments have progressed as far as the rumors—"
Kiyotogu, still panting, collected himself and crouched down in front of me.
Masu hesitated, his gaze flicking between us. "The scouts report heavy fortifications around the access points. If we move now—"
"We?" Kiyotogu's laugh was a blade drawn slowly across a stone. He straightened, rolling his shoulders with deliberate ease. "No. This one goes alone." His fingers twisted in my hair, wrenching my head up until our eyes met. "Consider it an audition."
"You ever notice how quiet it gets right before someone gets shot?"
The man beside me didn't answer. He just exhaled smoke through his nose, watching the flickering neon sign across the street. *The Velvet Lantern*, it read, half the letters dead. The building sagged like a drunk leaning against a lamppost, its once-vibrant red paint peeling in long, scab-like strips.
I flicked my cigarette into the gutter. "Place is too clean."
He finally glanced at me, one eyebrow raised.
"Look at the steps," I said. "No grime. Somebody's sweeping them."
The brothel's front door was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness yawning between the frame and the warped wood. No music. No laughter. Just the distant hum of faulty wiring and the occasional drip of water from a broken gutter.
I pushed the door open. The hinges groaned, but not loud enough to cover the soft click of a safety being thumbed off somewhere inside. The air smelled like cheap perfume and bleach—too much bleach. The kind of smell that doesn't just clean, but *erases*.
The foyer was empty. No hostess. No clients. Just a single lamp with a cracked shade, casting jagged shadows up the staircase. The carpet was worn thin in the middle, but the edges were pristine. Recently vacuumed.
"Bullshit," I muttered.
A brothel this old should've reeked of sweat and stale liquor, should've had sticky floors and the constant murmur of voices behind closed doors. But the only sound was my own footsteps as I moved deeper inside.
The first hallway was lined with doors, all shut tight. I tried one—locked. The next one swung open too easily, revealing a room with a neatly made bed, fresh sheets tucked military-tight. No personal effects. No ashtrays. Just a single, untouched bottle of whiskey on the nightstand.
I picked it up. The glass was cold. Condensation beaded along the sides like sweat.
Behind me, the floor creaked.
I didn't turn around. "You got a name?"
No answer. Just the slow, deliberate sound of someone stepping closer.
I sighed. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
The bottle shattered against the side of their head before they could take another step. Glass and liquor exploded across the floor as the figure crumpled—human-shaped, but wrong. Too many joints. Too many fingers.
It twitched once, then went still.
I nudged it with my boot. The skin felt like wet leather stretched over something that wasn't bone.
"Fuck," I said, because sometimes that's the only word that fits.
The moment my boot crossed the storage room threshold, the air itself ignited—not with heat, but sound. The brothel erupted into existence behind me like a switch being flipped. Laughter spilled from every doorway, the clink of glasses rang sharp between moans, and the scent of sweat and jasmine oil overwhelmed the bleach stench. A woman in violet silk brushed past me, her pupils wide with black market stimulants, her hand trailing across my chest as she murmured something about "special rates for pretty girls."
I didn't flinch. The illusion was good—almost perfect—but the whiskey still glistened on the floor where I'd smashed it earlier, untouched by the sudden crowd. The storage door now opened onto a corridor lined with pulsating red lanterns. At the end: a velvet rope, a bored-looking bouncer, and stairs leading down.
My Aspect flared under my skin, molten and eager. They'd hidden the entrance behind a sensory overload mirage. Clever. Most intruders would either flee or get distracted by the sudden orgy.
"Invitation?" The bouncer didn't look up from his ledger as I approached. His fingers were too long, his knuckles swollen like tree knots. Another construct.
I let my flames coil around my right hand, shaping them into a slender stiletto. "I RSVP'd in blood."
He moved faster than something that size should—but my blade moved faster. The flame-knife punched through his throat before he could rise, cauterizing the wound as it pierced. His flesh crisped like burning parchment, revealing clockwork gears beneath. The construct seized, then toppled sideways, twitching.
The scientist was incandescent with rage. "You idiots allowed a powerful assassin to infiltrate the building! Three of my research specimens are missing, and the entire facility is destroyed. You better have a plan for moving forward, moron. I did not sign a contract with the Birodo Kairo-Kai to get killed!" he screamed at the person, who sat arms-crossed, surrounded by bodyguards.
"Our Kyushu facility lies in ashes." A woman's silhouette detached from the rafters, her limbs elongating unnaturally as she descended. Her kimono was the color of a fresh bruise, the obi cinched tight enough to indent her ribs. The Birodo Kairo-Kai's logistics overseer. "The fire Aspect responsible remains unidentified, this is the real problem we should be focusing on, not the missing specimens."
My eyes widened, and my breath caught. "Fire Aspect…" The very thought sent a jolt of shock through me. "I thought everyone in our village was killed. This must be someone who escaped before the attack."
"If it truly is a Fire Aspect user…"
The giant across the table finally spoke, his massive frame carved with countless battle scars. His voice was low, heavy with the weight of war.
"…then we will need specialized tactics to capture him. They are the rarest—and without question the most powerful—of all Aspect users. And the fact that he roams alone, hunting heads in the dark, makes him even more dangerous. We should assemble a special force to—"
"Or we could find a way to use him."
The scientist's voice sliced through the room, cold and precise, cutting him off without hesitation.
"He is an assassin. Assassins belong to whoever can afford them. Ruthless strays nothing more… loyal only to the hand that feeds them."
"Mmmm… that isn't such a bad idea."
The woman spoke again, her voice smooth, unfazed. She raised her cigarette to her lips, inhaled slowly, then exhaled a thin veil of smoke that coiled into the dim light above.
"I've heard the Kurogumo-Kai acquired a new weapon. Something… dangerous."
Her eyes hardened behind the drifting smoke.
"We don't know who they are. We don't know what they're capable of. But if the rumors are true… they intend to use them against us."
She took another drag, embers glowing faintly in the darkness, before turning her gaze toward the figure seated deeper in the shadows, away from the table.
"We could use the Fire Aspect assassin to eliminate it before it becomes a threat."
The man in the shadows did not respond.
Silence swallowed the room.
The tension thickened, suffocating, as he slowly set his whisky glass down. The faint clink echoed louder than it should have. Then, without a word, he stood.
When he stepped into the light, my breath caught in my throat.
He looked young. About my age. And he was charming… unnervingly so. But beneath that charm lurked something else. Something wrong. Darkness clung to him like a second skin. That alone was nothing unusual in the underworld—but this was different.
He looked like a man who could torture someone to death… and smile while doing it. Genuinely.
He wore a uniform—one that marked him as a high-ranking member of the Burodo-Kai's elite mercenary unit, the Kurokiba. Power bled from him. His Aspect pressed against the air itself, suffocating everything around him.
He stepped closer to the table.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
Everyone froze.
As if their lives depended on his next words.
"…Are you suggesting we hire the man who killed the General of the Kurokiba elite forces… to eliminate our enemy?"
Silence answered him.
Heavy. Oppressive.
No one dared to breathe.
At last, the woman spoke, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.
"We trust the Kurokiba's abilities completely. However… this situation may warrant special consideration."
She hesitated.
"After all… only a demon can kill another demon."
Another pause.
Every second stretched thin.
"I could kill that demon whenever I pleased."
His voice was calm. Certain. Absolute.
"But… it would be useful to have someone disposable. A stray assassin."
A darker grin crept across his face as he raised his cigarette and lit it, the flame briefly illuminating his eyes.
"And besides… I want to meet him."
He inhaled slowly.
"He sounds… interesting."
"Find this guy and bring him to me.
His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.
It carried the kind of authority that made refusal feel impossible before it was even spoken.
He lifted the cigarette to his lips, the ember flaring briefly in the dim room.
"…Even if he resists."
He exhaled.
Smoke unraveled slowly from his mouth
Flames burst from my hands. I felt the raw power, the certainty that one move would be all it took to eradicate the group before they could even grasp what had struck them.
Seconds.
That's all it would take.
But him—
My eyes locked onto the man standing beneath the light.
He hadn't moved.
There was something about his Aspect. It was similar to mine….it made me hesitate.
"I didn't expect the monster to be this cute."
The voice came from behind me, soft and sharp at the same time, laced with amusement.
A quiet chuckle followed.
My body reacted before my thoughts could catch up. I turned toward the sound and saw them—two glowing purple eyes staring at me from the darkness, bright and unblinking, fixed on me with unmistakable hunger.
That's all I could see before everything went dark and I hit the wet pavement.
I coughed up my breath as my ribs collided with the asphalt.
Before I could register what got me, a giant piece of metal crashed into the exact spot where I had been lying less than a second earlier, shattering the asphalt and sending fragments skidding across the ground.
A girl stood in front of me. Eyes glowing purple, predatorious smile on her face. In her right arm she was holding a giant axe that was twice her size, in the other she held a large chane with a blade attached to it.
Just who the hell are you. - I asked standing up, my flames erupting from my palms. The same predatory smile crossed my face. I was hungry for a fight and a kill.
She chuckled again then threw the giant axe across her shoulder.
I am your executor.
She launched with extreme speed and precision.
I dodged, then counter-attacked with a burst of fire.
She´s no joke, I barely dodged that one.
She turned her head around tilting it in an unnatural angle. Her smile had gone into something way more disturbing.
I formed a katana from the flames as I walked toward her.
Whoever sent you to take me out must have really underestimated me, because this is one pathetic attempt.
She gave me a smirk and lifted her axe on her shoulder.
I can't wait to see if you are just pretty face or actually dangerous.