The sun rose over Tokyo, painting the glass skyscrapers in brilliant shades of gold and orange. It was a time of unprecedented peace. The era of blood and swords was supposed to be a dusty chapter in history books, a hundred years gone.
For Sumihiko Kamado, the biggest threat in the world was his alarm clock. He sprinted down the sidewalk, tie loose, bread in mouth, leaping over a park railing with unnatural agility.
"You're late again, Sumihiko!" a loud, cheerful voice boomed.
Tojuro Rengoku stood at the school gates, his hair like a flame, grinning with the same intensity as his ancestor, though he knew nothing of breathing styles or demons. He just knew he hated tardiness.
Behind them, Yoshiteru Agatsuma was clinging to his sister's sleeve, tears streaming down his face. "I felt it, Toko! I swear! The vibe in that alleyway was evil! A monster is going to eat me!"
Toko slapped his hand away, adjusting her uniform. "Stop reading those occult blogs, Yoshiteru. It's embarrassing. Monsters aren't real."
On the massive digital screen above the Shibuya crossing, a news report flashed. It showed the young, timid face of Aoba Hashibira. The text scrolled beneath him: Genius Botanist Makes Breakthrough in Blue Spider Lily Research. He looked uncomfortable with the fame, his eyes darting away from the camera, unaware that his research was drawing attention from things much older than science.
It was a perfect, golden morning.
But beneath the concrete, in the shadows where the sunlight couldn't reach, the peace was cracking.
The Ubuyashiki Estate (Hidden Location)
The air was heavy with incense. Takahiro Ubuyashiki, the current head of the family, sat on the tatami mats. He was young, his skin unblemished by the curse that had plagued his ancestors for a millennium. He possessed a terrifying calmness.
"The reports are confirmed," Takahiro said, his voice soft but carrying absolute authority. "Twelve bodies found in Shinjuku. Drained. Broken. It is happening again."
Kneeling before him were the reformatted Hashira. Among them sat Rin Oboro, the Lunar Hashira—quiet, elegant, his eyes lowered respectfully.
"The Demon King has returned," Takahiro declared, his fist clenching slightly. "We do not know his face. We do not know his name. But these killings bear the mark of the supernatural. The Demons have broken the truce of extinction. We must hunt them down. We must find this King and end him."
A murmur of agreement went through the Hashira. They were ready to slay.
Only Rin Oboro remained silent. He kept his head down to hide the sorrow in his eyes.
'You are wrong, Takahiro-sama,' Rin thought, his internal voice heavy with centuries of burden. 'It isn't us. My demons are hiding, terrified, just like the humans.'
Rin—the secret Demon King Arashi—knew the truth. The bodies in Shinjuku weren't drained of blood; they were drained of existence.
The Shadow of the Vorst
Deep in the sewers beneath the city, something chattered. It wasn't a demon. Demons were flesh and blood; they had personalities, tragic backstories, and egos.
This thing was a Vorst.
It looked like a silhouette carved out of static, jagged and vibrating. It didn't hunger for flesh; it hungered for energy, for the very fabric of life. It moved with a glitching, jerking motion.
A lower-ranked demon, a scavenger trying to survive on rats, cowered in the corner. "Stay back!" the demon hissed.
The Vorst lunged. It didn't bite; it enveloped. There was a sound like shattering glass, and the demon vanished—erased.
The Vorst shrieked, a sound like metal grinding on bone. It needed more. It needed the strong humans above. It needed the ones with the "sparks" of the old breathers.
Above ground, the school bell rang. Sumihiko laughed at a joke Tojuro made, while Yoshiteru shivered, sensing a cold wind that no one else felt.
The Slayer Corps sharpened their blades, preparing to hunt demons.
The Demons hid in the dark, praying their King would save them.
The Slayer Corps sharpened their blades, preparing to hunt demons.
The Demons hid in the dark, praying their King would save them.
The Golden Days were ending. The Fractured Night had begun.