Smoke lingered in the air like a curse.
The shrine was half-demolished. Craters marked where the angel's blade had struck. The ground was scorched in rings of holy light and demonic fire.
Kazuki stood in the center, swaying on his feet. His right arm was blackened from flame, veins glowing with crimson runes. The angel was gone—repelled, not defeated. But barely.
He'd survived.
Not by skill. Not by will.
But by awakening.
"You did well… for a shadow."
The voice came from inside him again—Azrakar's. But softer now. Almost... amused.
Kazuki collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
"Shut up... I'm not you... I'm not—!"
A warm hand touched his shoulder.
Yuna.
Burned, bloodied, but standing.
"You held your own," she whispered. "Against that. I won't pretend I'm not terrified, but... you're stronger than I thought."
He looked up at her, dazed. "I didn't mean to awaken it."
"You didn't," she said. "It meant to awaken you."
She helped him to his feet. The glow on his arm faded, replaced by an ancient-looking tattoo—spiraling black script that pulsed with his heartbeat.
"This is your Pact Mark," she said softly. "Only true Demon Lords bear it. The soul's brand. You can't remove it."
Kazuki looked down at it with growing dread.
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"No one ever does."
Elsewhere — In the Ruins of Tharos
Beneath the earth, deep in a scorched cathedral long forgotten by light, cloaked figures stood before a massive, cracked throne of obsidian.
Candles flickered in black iron skulls. Ashes filled the air.
A tall figure stepped forward—muscular, cloaked in tattered crimson robes. His face was covered by a charred mask.
"Brothers. Sisters. The Mark has returned."
A ripple of excitement passed through the gathered cultists.
"The King breathes again. The world trembles. The angels move. So too must we."
He raised a wicked-looking blade carved from bone and flame.
"We are the Cult of Ash. We do not serve peace. We do not beg for rebirth. We take back the Throne of Fire. Azrakar shall rise again—whether he wants to or not."
The cult chanted in unison, fists raised. The sound of it echoed like war drums.
Back in the City — Midnight Rooftops
Kazuki leaned over the edge of a rooftop, bandaged and exhausted. The city below looked the same, but everything felt different now.
His phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number:
WE SEE THE FLAME. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. MEET US BEFORE THE CHURCH BURNS. —K
He blinked. "Church?"
Yuna stood beside him, arms crossed. "Another faction?"
Kazuki didn't answer.
The mark on his arm pulsed. Something was coming.
Not just angels.
Not just cults.
Something buried deep in his past life. A war he never finished. And it was coming back to collect.
To be continued...