The Underground Betting Place breathed like a living creature.
Its pulse throbbed through clinking coins, whispered wagers, and the low, intoxicated laughter of men who believed luck was on their side tonight. Smoke drifted beneath hanging lanterns, coiling lazily through the air, while neon sigils burned across lacquered walls in hues of red and gold. Fortune and ruin shared every table, separated only by the turn of a card or the fall of a die.
Takashi and his team moved through the chaos as if the place belonged to them.
Takashi walked at the front, posture straight, expression calm and distant—like a man browsing artifacts rather than standing in the most dangerous den in the city. A plain wooden stick rested loosely in his hand, unassuming, forgettable. His eyes, however, missed nothing.
Half a step behind him loomed Yuta. Broad-shouldered, thick-necked, his presence bent the air around him. His face was locked in a permanent scowl, the look of a man who existed solely to break others. Gamblers instinctively leaned away as he passed.
Nao and Aoi slipped through the aisles dressed as attendants, hands busy with drinks and chips, eyes sharp and constantly moving. Every mirror, every shadow, every reflection was cataloged. Somewhere above, unseen and unheard, Kaito had already vanished into the rafters, becoming part of the darkness itself.
From the elevated stage, a voice slid smoothly over the noise.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Hu Le announced, arms spread wide, his smile polished and false, "prepare yourselves."
The crowd quieted, anticipation rippling through the room.
"Tonight," Hu Le continued, eyes glittering, "we wager on legends."
Applause erupted.
At the center of the stage sat Wei Xinyu, relaxed in a high-backed chair carved from blackened wood. His expression was serene, almost bored, as if none of this truly concerned him. On either side stood his guardians.
Li Jianhong rested one hand casually near the hilt of his blade, his gaze cold and sharp as drawn steel. Zhao Shouming stood slightly hunched, muscles coiled, breath slow and measured—every inch of him radiated restrained, animal power.
Takashi glanced toward the stage only once.
"Kaito," he murmured, barely moving his lips. "Eyes on Wei."
A pause. Then, faint and calm in his ear: "Always."
"Nao. Aoi," Takashi continued. "Backstage. Find the key."
They peeled away without hesitation.
Backstage felt wrong.
The roar of the crowd dulled into a distant hum, replaced by the clink of glass and metal. Shelves towered over Nao and Aoi, stacked with relics and artifacts—jade talismans sealed with ancient script, scrolls bound in thread that pulsed faintly with power, weapons that whispered softly as they rested.
They crouched behind a display case just as Hu Le entered, flanked by four workers and two armed guards.
"Careful," Hu Le snapped, irritation seeping into his voice. His gaze drifted to a tall mirror draped in dark silk. The air around it felt heavy, swallowing the lantern light. "Was that here earlier?"
One worker shook his head. "No, sir."
Hu Le frowned and stepped closer. "Strange…"
He reached out.
The mirror rippled.
A clawed black hand burst through the glass and seized Hu Le by the face.
He had time for half a scream before he was dragged inside.
The mirror bulged violently, the glass stretching and warping—and then Hu Le's severed head was spat back into the room. It hit the floor with a wet crack, blood splashing across priceless relics.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then the guards opened fire.
Bullets vanished into the mirror as if swallowed by an endless void.
The glass exploded outward.
Six demons spilled into the room, bodies twisted and unnatural, joints bending where they shouldn't. They hit the floor running. Screams erupted as claws tore through flesh and bone snapped like dry wood. Blood slicked the tiles.
From every mirror backstage, shadows began to stir.
Out on the betting floor, the first scream cut through the revelry.
Then another.
Mirrors darkened across the hall, their surfaces turning black as oil. Shapes pushed through the glass, oozing into the room like living smoke. Demons poured out among the gamblers.
Panic detonated.
Men trampled one another, overturning tables. Coins scattered like rain. Lanterns shattered, fire blooming where bodies fell.
Takashi moved.
The wooden stick in his hand twisted, lengthening, reshaping itself into a gleaming longsword. He stepped forward and cut once—clean and precise. The nearest demon split from shoulder to hip, collapsing in a spray of black blood.
Another lunged.
Its head left its body in a smooth arc.
Yuta roared as crimson aura erupted around him. His human form warped, muscles swelling, eyes glowing with savage light. He slammed into a towering red demon, ripping its arm free and beating it to death with its own limb. He planted himself between the monsters and the fleeing civilians, absorbing blows meant for others.
From backstage, Nao and Aoi burst out, blood streaking their clothes.
"The mirrors are gates!" Nao shouted, clutching a glowing jade disk. "They're anchoring themselves through reflections!"
"Can you shut them?" Takashi asked, slicing another demon apart.
"Not all at once," Nao replied. "But we can disrupt them!"
"Do it."
On the stage, hell reached Wei Xinyu.
A four-armed demon vaulted forward, blades spinning. From the rafters, a monkey-like fiend shrieked and dove.
Li Jianhong met the four-armed demon head-on. Steel clashed in a storm of sparks. He severed one arm—but the creature didn't slow. Three blades struck in a blur.
Li's body fell in two pieces.
Blood soaked the stage.
Zhao Shouming roared, spirit energy exploding outward. He moved like an unleashed beast, leaping and tearing. He caught the monkey demon mid-air and ripped it apart, its corpse hitting the floor in pieces.
The four-armed demon turned toward Wei.
Three blades rose.
The shadows split.
Kaito dropped from above.
His katana flashed once.
The demon's head separated from its body, ichor spraying as it collapsed.
Wei Xinyu stumbled back, shaking, terror finally breaking through his composure. "Thank you… thank you…"
Kaito said nothing.
He stepped forward, blade steady, eyes scanning the burning hall as more roars echoed from shattered mirrors.
The Underground Betting Place was drowning in blood.