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Chapter 23

Some Day, Dominion

Within Apricot’s core, the muted touch of slumber permeated. The warmth of her stomach washed over her as she lingered in the darkness of her sleep. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her body rested. The nothingness was shattered by a sharp, burning pain in her back. Both eyes and mouth opened in exhalation as panic pushed her up with its anxious arms. Stumbling from the icy smooth concrete, dust-slathered ground, the sharp pain in her side made her fall to her knees.

“You’re alive,” Cortez coughed, propped up against a wall and clutching his side. His legs spread in a V-shape, a scarlet river flowing between them. “You got to get that kid. That cloaked freak is evil. Run before it’s too late.”

Despite seeing spots, Apricot sprang to her feet, her stride transforming into a limping trot as her muscles protested against the pain coursing through her body. A strange, operatic singing filled the corridor leading to the underground city. Apricot had never heard such a language before, and it unsettled her. As she neared the city, the voice became clearer; it belonged to the old man.

Upon entering the shrine, Apricot saw the old man standing at the altar, with a short, black-haired boy lying atop a concrete slab. “What are you doing!?” she shouted.

“I must thank you. I couldn’t have caught this one on my own,” the old man’s gratitude tasted like poison. “The boy opposes our Lord, the black god. I am glad that you are able to witness this event.”

Her back still burning from his earlier attack, Apricot’s fist tightened as she demanded, “Who are you?” The elder rubbed the edge of his dagger with childlike curiosity.

“If you must know, my name is Urias.” Apricot recoiled at the name and scrunched her face. “You know my name. Brilliant,” Urias laughed with a bile-like drawl. “With the death of this boy, the black god will accept me as his host. Watch me become a god!” he roared, raising his knife to the sky.

Apricot’s heart skipped a beat as she lunged across the sanctuary hall. A purple blade of flame emerged from her arm, slicing through Urias’s forearm. As the severed limb fell to the ground, the fingers released the dagger. Screaming, the old man retreated, clutching his bleeding wound.

Cradling the boy in her arms, Apricot lifted him off the altar. Though heavy, she carried him through the ruined cathedral, murmuring reassurances she wasn’t sure he could hear. Urias’s ragged breathing and dragging footsteps echoed behind her. “Wait, you don’t know what you’re doing! You’ve got to kill the boy,” he called. Ignoring the crazed man, Apricot pressed on, assuming the crazed occultist was near. She transported the boy out of the city and up the corridors, eager to return to the others.

The sound of Cortez growling reached Apricot’s ears as she approached. “You owe me more than those damn rubies.”

Upon hearing Shiori’s laughter, she sighed with relief. “Maybe I should just let you bleed out in that case.”

“Real funny,” Cortez said as he turned to see Apricot. “Hey,” he said, then gently slapped Shiori across the chest.

Shiori turned to Apricot as she set the boy down, smiling at her. “Is he dead?”

She shook her head. “We will take him back.”

“Why not just kill him now?” Shiori asked.

“I agree with Apricot, let’s hear him out first,” Cortez shrugged, still holding his gut. “That man stabbed me. Ranted about how the black god would be so pleased with his catch. That with the death of the boy, no one would have the knowledge to stop his greater work.”

“He told me something along those lines as well. That man down there, Shiori, is Urias Heldric.” Shiori raised an eyebrow. “I think we might have got things wrong.”

“So, where is old Urias, anyway?” Shiori asked.

“Bleeding somewhere down there. I cut his arm off with my spirit weapon. Which troubles me a bit. I have never been able to do that before with a human being,” Apricot mused.

She stroked Shiori’s chin as if deep in thought. “It doesn’t much matter. Do you think he’s in a condition to follow?”

“If he tries to get up here without treatment, I’m pretty sure he will bleed out. I don’t think he will be a problem,” Apricot said coldly. As the boy’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, she gazed down at him.

Upon opening his eyes, he immediately tried to sit up. As Shiori lunged at the boy, he slammed his head against the ground while placing his foot on the boy’s neck. “Cool it, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” he screamed, clutching both hands onto Shiori’s leg as he wrestled to remove it. The boy cried out as Shiori pressed harder onto his neck, “Get off me!”

“You’re lucky to be alive. Apricot just saved your ass,” Shiori gestured with his nose to Apricot. “If I had it my way, I would have killed you.”

“I won’t let you summon the black god!” he croaked amidst his struggle. A futile attempt to throw Shiori off of him led to him trying to kick and buck with his legs.

“Calm down,” Shiori applied more pressure to the kid’s neck, completely suffocating him. His face turned red, and his eyes watered as his struggles grew limp.

“Shiori, get off him now! You’re about to kill him,” Apricot shouted, pushing Shiori in the chest. This irritated him, but he didn’t remove his foot. “He’s freaked out. Also, Urias wants him dead too. I want to hear what he has to say.”

As Shiori let go of the boy’s neck, he barked, “I saw what you did. You’re all murderers. You killed people!” With a look of disgust, Shiori lifted his foot from the boy. He sat up at once and looked around at the group.

Apricot glanced down at the kid. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen. You should have died at the supermarket. I should have known then that you were a servant of the black god.” The boy glanced between the group.

Apricot thought to herself, “The supermarket.” Looking at him, she suddenly recalled the boy she helped when the phantom attacked her three years ago. After so much time, she almost forgot about it. “Hold on, I know you.”

“You’re pretty slow,” he grunted. As Shiori glanced at Cortez, he rolled his eyes.

Despite his rudeness, Apricot ignored it. “What do you mean about being a servant?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! I know you serve the black god! He was with you during the attack.”

Just then, Shiori’s eyes widened. Looking directly into the kid’s eyes, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Hunter,” he said under his breath. “You will regret what you have done. You won’t be forgiven; you are all cursed. You might be able to kill me, but he is going to betray you. Then we will see who is laughing.”

Apricot furrowed her brow. “We don’t want to hurt you. Well, at least I don’t want to.”

“Liar!” he screamed.

Shiori yanked Hunter’s hair. “Why are you breaking the seals if you are so worried about the black god?” Suddenly, the boy flung his head from Shiori’s grasp and leaped to his feet. When he tried to run, Shiori caught his ankle and pulled him down. As he hit the ground hard, Apricot winced. “Answer me! Why are you trying to break all the seals?!” Shiori pulled Hunter in front of him, flipping his body over while viciously grabbing Hunter by the throat and holding him down. “I am done playing! I want answers!”

“It’s what keeps him bound here,” Hunter choked out.

The tightening grip of Shiori around his neck was deafening. “So you are releasing him!” Apricot looked at him in surprise. “What did I tell you!” He was full of that animalistic fury she saw once.

“No,” Hunter gasped while struggling against Shiori’s grasp. “It will suck him back into the other world.” Shiori loosened his grip. “The Okabe family sealed the black god here many years ago. It feeds off the seals. They are made by sacrificing people and tying them to him. He would not be able to survive without them. The Okabe family is evil. They want to make their own world using him. He, however, is tricking them. They were promised a new world, but really he wants to merge the dead world with the living one. By breaking the barrier between worlds, they will sacrifice both worlds. He will become the god of the new world.”

Shiori pondered it. “Why would Urias want you dead?”

“Urias was his pawn. Still is. He went mad. The ritual failed, and the sacrifice was incomplete. The ritual only broke a hole between worlds. But it did not merge them. In spite of this, the inhabitants of that world can now enter ours due to the black god. Having been weak after the ritual, he had to use most of his power to create the hole. After that, he could barely function. As he waited deep beneath the city in the tunnels, he slowly gained strength. He has been feeding on all the pain and tragedy beneath the city for years. He tricked people into believing he was helping them. That energy is held in the seals. Without the seals, he cannot remain here and will fade back into his world. If I break all the seals, he will be defeated.”

Shiori snorted, putting a hand over his eye, letting go of Hunter. He raised his head to look at the ceiling. “So, the reaper is the black god. We have been duped.” Both Cortez and Apricot stared at Shiori with wide eyes. “Think about it. He was fine until these seals broke. Now he is using Cortez’s blood to sustain himself, and he has gone dormant. He needs to regain his energy. The kid is our ally.”

“What? What kind of trick is this?” Hunter yelled. “You just tried to kill me!”

Apricot said to Hunter, “We work together. Put an end to this black god. The Okabe family can’t perform their rituals anymore, so they are out of the picture. If we break that last seal, it is all over.”

“The only problem is I don’t know where that last seal is. It will be someplace the black god guards. I was searching the tunnels for the seal. I ran into you though.” Hunter said uncomfortably. “I’m also looking for Urias’s soul device. It’s down here somewhere. If we destroy it, this won’t happen again.” Hunter told the group.

Shiori raised an eyebrow. “The soul device?”

“The machine that caused the Blue Ash Crisis. It’s called the Mantra or soul device. It reaches into other worlds. Thins the barrier between them, sort of.” Hunter explained.

“So what we need to do is find the seal and break that machine,” Cortez grumbled. “Do things keep peeling like a damn onion, or does this nightmare never end?”

“I think I know where it is,” Apricot chirped, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I mean the seal; it is in the shrine where the reaper sleeps. I think, at least. I could be wrong, though.” Apricot told them.

“Only one way to know for sure. However, I can’t investigate it. I will need your help,” Hunter said.

Shiori turned his head to Hunter with a downturned expression. “Why can’t you investigate it?”

Hunter shook his head and grunted. “You’re not that bright either, I see.” Apricot chuckled as she couldn’t recall the last time she heard a stranger talk to Shiori like that.

As for Cortez, he laughed a tiny bit at the same time. “Damn, it hurts. Don’t make me laugh,” he moaned.

“If the black god is there, he will kill me,” Hunter grinned. “So you need to be there for me.”

“Of course, I can do it,” Apricot replied immediately.

“Okay, so it always takes the form of a ring. This ring is usually large. Like the summoning circle the Okabe family used for their ritual. Can you recall how that looked? You can take a picture of it and show it to me on your phone. I’ll be able to identify it then. You believe you can do it?” Apricot nodded in agreement.

“While you are doing that, Apricot, I will get Cortez to a street doc. Hunter, you wait here. Stay away from Urias, please. If you get caught, I swear I will kill you myself,” Shiori threatened. Hunter smiled hesitantly. After that, everyone went their separate ways.

The chill of the bricks against Shiori’s back transported him to memories of cool winters at the shrine where he grew up. His mind was filled with the crisp scent of mountain snow, and he longed to return to those peaceful mornings. As he passed the alleyway, he noticed the street remained unusually quiet, devoid of the typical early morning traffic. Glancing back at Cortez, he heard his rasping breaths and labored limping. “Come on,” Shiori urged, “it’s not much further. Try to keep your cough at bay.”

“It better be,” Cortez replied, feeling lightheaded. He stumbled with each step, leaving a trail of crimson droplets in his wake. His legs dragged, and his stomach tightened, eliciting a pained groan from him. The deep laceration burned, intensifying with every agonizing step.

Seeing Cortez suffer so pathetically, a slight leer crossed Shiori’s face. Moving to Cortez’s side, he lifted him with his right arm, providing support. Together, they quickened their pace, navigating the crumbling alley and its cracked, decaying surface. They repeated this several times until they arrived in front of an old store window cluttered with appliances from a bygone era.

Shiori pushed the door open first, followed closely by Cortez. “Hey,” Shiori shouted, “I got rice for you.” No response echoed through the empty shop.

“Your street doc ain’t here,” Cortez grunted, slumping against a shelf, trying to hold himself up as blood seeped from his wound.

As Shiori walked toward the back of the room, he growled, “He isn’t out. Now where the hell is he?” A man in a blue button-up shirt emerged from the back of the store, wielding a shotgun. “Whoa, what is this?”

“Get the hell out,” the man shouted at Shiori.

Shiori shook his head in frustration. “I have a friend who’s bleeding out. I’ll pay double the normal rate. Get him patched up, will you?”

“You’re hot,” the man growled. “Get the hell out now, or I’ll send you down a drain.”

A resigned sigh escaped Shiori’s lips. “He’s dying. At least treat my friend. I’ll leave, okay?”

Cortez offered a weak smirk at the bickering duo. A black spot began to encroach on his vision, blurring his sight. Turning to the window, he spotted a patrol car slowly coasting down the road. “Hey, we got wet streets outside.”

He stood up and moved to the other side of the shelf. Shiori shot the man a pointed look before glancing back over his shoulder. “You enjoy housing fugitives?” he asked with a smirk.

“I’ll turn you in,” the man grumbled.

Shiori grinned confidently, pressing his chest against the barrel of the man’s shotgun. “Go for it. After what I’ve done to the Okabe family, do you think they’ll let you live?” The man aimed the shotgun at Shiori’s throat. “Let’s gamble,” Shiori taunted. “Care to?”

Sweat trickled down the man’s brow. “That’s what I thought,” Shiori retorted, flicking beads of sweat off his forehead. “Patch up my friend before I get ugly.”

Dust swirled across the polished white stones of the neglected shrine courtyard. The reaper lay motionless before the altar, the same place where Apricot had last seen him. As she approached the lifeless figure, she mused, “He’s still at rest.” His once-vibrant red and purple hues had faded, and his beaked mask obscured his face as it dangled from his slumped form. Curiosity piqued, Apricot wandered around the courtyard, snapping pictures of the tiles with her phone.

Scattered on the ground were several small symbols, each about the width of a pen. Could this be the seal they were searching for? Had she actually found it? A triumphant grin spread across her face as she realized she was right. Static flickered across her phone’s screen as the surrounding air grew warmer. The heat intensified so rapidly that she felt as if she were sweltering in her clothes. Stirring weakly, the reaper lifted his head and whispered, “Apricot.”

Casting a closer look at the ominous figure, she turned to face him. “I see you’ve woken up,” she said.

“I have,” he rasped, his voice barely audible, betraying his weakness. “Did you finish, Okabe?” Apricot nodded slowly. “Is the seal breaker dead?”

Her heart lodged in her throat as she replied, “No.” A wave of terror washed over her; she was almost certain it was the black god manipulating her for his own purposes. Despite his weakened state, she felt the urge to take his life, but she resisted, allowing her anger to surge through her fingertips instead.

With his metallic claw, the reaper gently touched Apricot’s hand. “Hurry now. Time runs short.”

Apricot nodded. “I found him.”

“Have you?” he growled. “Why have you not killed him? What have I commanded of you? Did I not instruct you to end their life? The fate of the world depends on their demise.”

Offering a half-hearted smile, Apricot replied, “I came to report that we are tracking him now. He lives in the tunnels below.”

“In the tunnels, you say? Sadly, that is one place I cannot go. Nonetheless, I am too weak to travel anyway. Be swift, for I am dying and cannot endure much longer. The world will fall into chaos without me to hold back the phantoms.”

“Of course. I will return when he is dead,” Apricot assured the reaper. He slumped back down, lifeless once more. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but look back, half expecting him to strike her from behind. At least he can’t read minds, she thought, or at least she hoped he couldn’t.

The street doctor plunged the hot end of a hand-held instrument into Cortez’s skin, eliciting a deafening scream from him. As his flesh was seared shut, the sound resembled the loud hiss of meat on a grill. “Damn you!” he hollered, his mouth wide open in agony.

“Kid, you’re lucky to be alive with stab wounds like that. I can’t do much for the torn muscle; you just gotta let the machines do their job,” the doctor warned Cortez, who grunted as the cautery device was pulled from his stomach. “Don’t touch it.” The doctor looked up at Shiori. “Put a wet rag on it, will ya?” He walked from the metal desk to a nearby refrigerator. “I got derms for you. Expensive, but I’m sure your friend here can afford it.”

Shiori responded curtly, holding a wet towel. “Only the best.” He laid the towel over the burn wounds. Cortez flinched and grabbed the towel when he felt the damp fabric on his stomach. “Contain yourself!” Shiori ordered, gripping his arms. “You’ll be fine in a moment. Just bear it.”

“It burns, man,” Cortez said, tears filling his eyes. “It burns like a hot iron.”

“It was a hot iron,” Shiori smirked.

Cortez’s expression twisted into a scowl. “The hell, man, why don’t you try it?” He wrenched his arms away and grabbed the iron device.

Shiori stepped back and blew out a tiny puff of air. “Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Cortez growled, setting the iron down.

The doctor approached, holding what looked like a large piece of bacon. He slapped it onto Cortez’s face, almost knocking him off the table. The doctor stared at Cortez, his eyes wide with shock. “If you touch it again, I’ll shove it down your damn throat,” he roared. “Now lie on the table,” he ordered. Turning to Shiori, he asked, “What kind of company do you keep, ‘Lord’ Kinjo?”

“He’s for entertainment value alone,” Shiori said with a smirk.

As the towel was removed from Cortez’s stomach, the nerve endings on his exposed flesh became visible. Shiori could barely look at the macabre display of porphyria before him. The doctor slapped the synthetic skin onto Cortez’s stomach and skillfully massaged it in. Within seconds, the material covered his stab wounds and melded with his side. The strained expression on Cortez’s face vanished. “Don’t scratch it. Your guts will fall out,” the doctor warned. “Also, take a break for a few weeks. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Now get your asses out of my shop.”

As the doctor approached the front door, Cortez got up and walked away from the table. Shiori kept an eye on him. “You will be rewarded greatly for this,” he said. “I guarantee it. After all, this blows over.” The doctor just smiled with a half-grin.

“Don’t sweat it,” he grunted. “I’m a good hostage.”

After exiting the room, Shiori entered the main shop. Cortez looked at him, a smirk on his face. Shiori asked, “What’s that smirk for?”

“You saved my life. I thought you cared only about yourself,” Cortez said.

Shiori frowned as he looked down his nose. “What? Doesn’t a good master take care of his dog?” he said as he walked past Cortez.

“Is that how it works?” Cortez laughed.

Shiori surveyed the street from the storefront, his eyes catching a rippling wave. A second wave followed, as if a short tide of water floated by. Before he could scream, his eyes widened. “Get down!”

As Shiori dove onto Cortez, he felt Cortez’s head explode, a bullet piercing the space between his eyes. “Cortez!” Shiori shouted in a tearful yelp, the warmth of his blood splattering him. As bullets flew and the room was ripped apart, Cortez’s headless body sprayed blood while hitting the ground hard. “You bastards!” Shiori shrieked. “You bastards!” In a fury, Shiori pulled the segmented staff out of his sleeve, ready to face those who had taken his friend’s life.

“No, no, no, no!” Hunter’s worried voice echoed down the hall. Apricot’s heart pounded as she rushed toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. When she finally reached Hunter, everything seemed fine at first, except for his frantic, wandering gaze. On closer examination, it appeared that his sigils had been destroyed by a series of sharp claw strikes. His eyes grew large as he turned to Apricot. “It’s not safe to be here,” he said, panic lining his voice. “The ghosts will come.”

Apricot shook her head, determination filling her. “There’s no more running, Hunter.” She lowered her gaze, steeling herself for what needed to be done. “It’s time we were on the attack. Let’s deal with Claw Fingers.” She looked at him with serious eyes, her resolve unwavering. In the dim light, Hunter’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Where are we going?” Hunter asked, his voice trembling.

Apricot continued to march forward. “We’re going by train. That shrine I went to check out—it’s the last seal. I’m sure of it.” She pulled out her phone and brought up the picture with a few taps on the screen. “The reaper… he’s the black god. There’s no question anymore. To think he got me into this mess and is orchestrating every detail of my nightmare.” She showed the screen to Hunter, who examined it with wide eyes, a mix of fear and excitement. “Don’t get too excited yet. I don’t think this is going to be all that easy.”

“I know. He’ll try to kill me. I’ll need you to distract him while I get ready to perform the breaking,” Hunter explained, his voice steadier now.

Apricot folded her arms as she walked out of the corridor, her expression resolute. “I kind of expected that. Truthfully, I’m not disappointed by that.” Hunter shielded his eyes as they reached the surface. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen sunlight, huh?”

“I suppose you could say that.” Jumping over a barrier, Hunter ran ahead to assist Apricot. He held her hand as she crossed the barrier, causing her cheeks to flush a little. She couldn’t help but think how gentlemanly he was, even though he was still too young for her to develop any genuine interest in him.

As they continued on, Apricot’s heart pounded in her chest. Each time someone’s gaze met hers, a sense of dread washed over her. Her only hope was that Akagi was still working hard to keep them from being detected. On that note, she couldn’t help but wonder how Cortez and Shiori were faring. For a while, they had seemed to disappear from her mind. Despite feeling guilty about that, it wasn’t pertinent now. All they had achieved was laid out before them. Her nightmare would soon be over. Or at least the immediate threat would be.

Pulling the hood down over his head, Hunter led the way to the train. “Apricot, what happens afterward?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

“I was just thinking about that myself,” Apricot admitted. “I’m not sure. I think my life might be over, but you can still run away from all this.” Hunter’s face fell at her words. “The train platform isn’t far from here,” she added, trying to distract him from her rather grim revelation.

The near-empty cart creaked gently as it moved along the tracks, carrying Apricot and Hunter among the few passengers aboard. Those at the front were mostly salaried men, their faces buried in newspapers as they made their way to work. In contrast, the passengers nearest to Apricot and Hunter had a more nefarious air about them. Apricot leaned back in the spongy seat, the heat from her ankles radiating slowly up her legs, gradually giving way to a slight stiffness.

Among the cart’s occupants were three men dressed in commoners’ street clothes, who huddled together in hushed conversation. Their eyes darted toward Apricot, their voices taking on a sinister edge. Sensing the impending trouble, she discreetly tucked her fingers into her sleeve, feeling the reassuring weight of her concealed blade. The fear that once would have consumed her in such situations was now a distant memory, replaced by a steely resolve.

As the men approached, Hunter nervously glanced at the encroaching group. The one with rotten teeth and a nauseating odor that reminded Apricot of spoiled meat spoke first.

“Hey there, cutie. What are you doing with the kid? He’s your bro or something?”

“I am not her brother,” Hunter said defensively, his eyes narrowing. “Now get lost.”

The men laughed, taunting Hunter. “Wow, tough guy,” one sneered, and the laughter grew louder. Another chimed in, “Think she’s a kiddie fiddler?” Apricot’s cheeks flushed with anger, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. “Wo, I think she is, man.”

As the man with bad breath jeered, “Well, kid, you gotten lucky with her?” Apricot snapped.

“Shut up!” she hissed, her voice like a whip. The men laughed and slapped the seats, egging her on. “Shut your mouth,” she repeated, her voice colder than steel.

“Wo, girl, calm down. I’m sure the boss has work for a kiddie fiddler like you,” one of the larger men said, rising to his full height of at least six and a half feet. Apricot arched her back into the seat, instinctively shielding Hunter. “What, I don’t wanna hurt ya. How about both of you come with me?” He asked, taking a step forward into her reach.

In a flash, he let out a loud yell as Apricot charged him, pressing a throwing knife against his throat. “Back the hell up or I’ll slit your throat!” she snarled. The remaining men scrambled back, their eyes wide with fear. For a moment, Apricot reveled in the prideful warmth that flooded her chest. This was her strength.

But her triumph was short-lived. Before she could savor the moment, four razor-like claws pierced through the man’s head, and he was hurled through the train window. Standing before her was the reaper.

“Oh my god!” screamed the man with bad breath, scrambling to get away from the fearsome figure. As the reaper raised his hand, the man was thrown through the train wall by an invisible force.

“Apricot, thou hast betrayed me,” the reaper bellowed through his mask, and Hunter’s screams filled the air. The wind from outside the train whipped at their clothes, and Apricot felt as if her world had been reduced to the reaper before her. “No matter, thou hast still provided me with the lamb I seek to slaughter.”

“No!” Apricot shouted, defiance burning in her eyes.

“‘Twas not a request but rather a statement. For thy good work, I shall make thy death quick,” the reaper said, pointing his hand at her. As she dove onto the ground, Apricot felt a force akin to the vibration of a powerful amplifier, which smashed a hole in the back of the train, destroying the right corner seat. Hunter, quick to act, leapt over the seat and hurled a stone at the reaper.

Apricot regained her footing just in time to see the stone explode into a cloud of dust. Gripping the knives hidden within her sleeve, she charged into the smoky haze, meeting the reaper with a flurry of slashes. In response, he effortlessly blocked both her blades with a single hand, pushing her away with a contemptuous sneer.

Stroking his chin with his claw, the reaper stood tall. “Is this the extent of thy talents? Thou foolish wench. There is nothing thou canst do to stand against me. Thou seest, I need thee not any longer.” Despite the wind gusting through the gaping holes in the train, Apricot noticed the temperature rising, as if standing in the reaper’s presence had set her very skin alight.

“You were dying! How did this happen?” she demanded.

“An act. ‘Twas a ruse to confuse mine true enemies. As long as I appeared weak, there was no way thou couldst have known I fed from the seals he hath broken. Now I am but a hair’s breadth from divinity. I shall rend the gates open and claim my kingdom over both worlds,” the reaper declared. Apricot’s heart leapt into her throat as she saw Hunter dart behind her. The reaper spread his arms wide, knocking Apricot backward with a blinding flash of light. Her head whipped around just in time to catch a final glimpse of Hunter before he plummeted out the back of the train.

“Hunter!” Apricot screamed. She turned back to face the reaper, who was already closing in on her. He dodged her attacks with ease, effortlessly deflecting each strike.

“That’s right. Let the surprise fill thee and infect thy core. Come find me at the shrine. I shall be waiting for thee. Enjoy the hell thou hast unleashed,” he laughed, backing away down the train from Apricot. She pursued him with all her might, but he smashed through every door with an almost casual disdain. The passengers surrounding her began to realize the terror that had been unleashed, and as she passed each one, their bodies erupted into bloody messes, their insides turned outwards.

The train hurtled through the city, ascending towards the sky rails. Apricot clung to a chair to keep herself from tumbling down the hall of carts, her eyes set on the reaper. As the train leveled out, she sprinted to the front, her heart hammering in her chest. She charged past the grisly remains of the passengers, her eyes fixed on the door leading to the control room. Bursting inside, she found it devoid of life, save for the bewildering array of knobs, buttons, switches, and screens. Desperation clawed at her as she scanned the controls, searching for some clue to their operation, but the sheer complexity overwhelmed her.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of the gaping hole in the train behind her. As sirens wailed in the distance, Apricot raced to the back of the train, her heart in her throat. Peering out, she saw the dizzying drop to the streets below, choked with traffic. She knew she wouldn’t make it if she jumped, but she also knew that remaining on the train would mean certain capture.

As the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the cart, Apricot made her decision. Leaping from the back of the train, she plummeted through the air, her scream swallowed by the wind. For a brief moment, a strange peace enveloped her as she soared, fingers outstretched. As she hurtled past a support pole for the rail, she noticed an advertisement banner hanging from its side. Reaching out, she grasped the fabric, tearing it from the pole.

Gripping the banner tightly, she swung forward at incredible speed, the momentum carrying her closer to the ground. As she neared the pavement, she released her hold on the banner, rolling onto the sidewalk to break her fall.

A crowd of onlookers stared at Apricot in shock, their faces a mixture of confusion and horror. Ignoring their gawking, she pushed herself to her feet and fled, desperate to put distance between herself and the carnage she’d left behind. She ran for several blocks, the wailing of police sirens growing louder in her ears.

As she glanced toward the approaching squad of SDP vehicles, her vision was suddenly blinded by a flash of lights. Streetlights and building windows began to flicker and strobe in a hauntingly familiar pattern, reminiscent of Akagi’s handiwork. This time, however, she knew it wasn’t him.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, her panic mounting. Her body, slick with blood, left a faint trail of gore in her wake. Desperate to escape, she darted into an alleyway, her eyes scanning for any possible exit. Spotting a manhole, she grabbed the metal bars and yanked them aside, then plunged into the fetid darkness of the sewer below.

The heat and stench were overwhelming, but Apricot pressed on, tears streaming down her cheeks. Fear gnawed at her insides, a torrent of questions threatening to drown her. Were Shiori and the others still alive? And Hunter, her last hope—had the reaper truly triumphed? Was there any point in running at all?

These questions haunted Apricot as she stumbled through the murky tunnels, seeking answers that seemed as elusive as the shadows that surrounded her. And all the while, the reaper’s sinister laughter echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the nightmare she had unwittingly unleashed.

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