“Mee-ow… mee-ow…!” (Wait a minute. Oh! Oh! I’m… I’m starting to remember…!)

“Hm? Milady?”

Lady Ayano squirms out of my arms, her purpose clear. She remembers something. 

Her paws make a sure, trotting rhythm on the concrete.

I follow.

She hits the door from the training ground to the hall, leaps, and hangs off the knob until the latch clicks. Smart cat. She pushes it open and keeps moving.

These tunnels snake under the whole facility, even out to Master Issei’s old parking garage.

Last time I saw this hall, the ceiling was on the floor. The Akachi Clan must have cleared the rubble.

The walls are a mess of blast craters, slashes, and bullet holes. A hell of a fight went down here that night.

BANG. Bang, bang-bang!

Gunfire. Up ahead.

Lady Ayano and I both flinch, a one-beat pause before we break into a dead sprint. 

“Mee-ow! Mee-ow!” (Cat-dash!)

We tear through the soot-stained hall. One corner, two, three—and on the third, I stop dead.

Blood paints the ceiling in a fresh, wet spray. A four-armed monster roars, ripping an Exorcist in half and tossing the pieces aside like trash.

It slings drool as gunfire from behind chews at its flesh.

The beast stumbles, just for a second, then locks onto the shooter and launches itself. Ceiling, wall, floor, ceiling—a four-beat blur of motion.

It closes the distance instantly, a single swipe sending the Exorcist flying. Massive claws plow a furrow through the young woman’s chest.

How the hell did a Demon get in here? The perimeter should be sealed.

Doesn’t matter. Focus.

The thing uses the tight space to its advantage, all ricochets and sharp angles. Fast enough to test a Mage’s reflexes up close.

Two meters tall. Developed claws. Four arms, the second pair sprouting from its back.

Category 3, probably two counts of Abnormal Development: Back.

Can’t tell if it’s got a mind behind the eyes.

This class of Demon is way above my pay grade. Just my luck. One hell of a rehab session.

I scan the killzone. One dead. Three bleeding out. A handful of workers screaming, crying, or running.

That leaves two guns in the fight.

Wait. One of them is Sumire. She’s squeezing the trigger of her pistol, her face a mask of pure fury.

“Aaaahhhh—!!!!”

“Graaaah!”

I rack my shotgun and fire. The slug tears through empty air.

The Demon doesn’t even look at me. It’s all in on Akashi.

It lunges. She’s dead if I don’t move.

“Aaaahhh—!?”

Sumire drops, sprawling on her ass as the claws whistle over her head.

The miss throws the Demon off-balance for a split second. It’s enough.

I fire again on pure instinct. No time to aim.

The second slug rips half the wrist off its upper right arm. It flinches, a spasm of pain, and then its eyes lock onto me. All four of them.

It’s mine now.

It comes at me in a blur of motion. Ceiling, right wall, left wall, floor, ceiling—a chaotic rhythm ending with a flash of claws.

I don’t back away.

I step in, a hard plant of my foot for the Seismic Stomp. Get inside its reach, break its form.

My back slams into its chest. Eightfold Soulfist: Mountain Ram. It’s a pure Force Release, driving my center of gravity through the target. Maximum impact.

The impact sends the Demon flying, a solid connection that launches it down the hall.

It tumbles ass over teakettle, but rights itself almost immediately.

I toss my shotgun aside, grab the axe from its holster, and in one fluid motion, throw it underhand.

The axe flies true and strikes the Demon’s torso.

This is what I call the power of lovers! Sliiice~!

“Greeaah!?”

The Demon screams, yanking the axe from its flesh. It holds the weapon in its second left arm, roaring a challenge.

Hey, wait, let go of me! I wanna come home! Waaah! Ikaku, save me!

Yeah. Axey’s not coming back. So I ended up just handing it a weapon.

It recognizes a weapon as a weapon and knows how to use it. Seems it has that much intelligence, at least.

I snatch the black bundle from my belt. Inside the fireproof cloth, a piece of charcoal glows a perfect, angry orange.

I clench my fist.

A deep groan, a crackle, and the charcoal shatters, reforming in my hand as a black sword bleeding pure heat.

Time to test it out.

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