Startled, Yosefu stumbled back, the coarse bark of the light post digging into his spine as he faced the encroaching swarm of shadow fiends. Dark and twisted, they oozed forward, their movements fluid and silent, like smoke curling in the night air. Panic surged within him, and he turned to flee, but it was futile. A sinister creature materialized right in front of him, its inky black tendrils reaching out to wrap around his neck. With a swift motion, it hoisted him off the ground, constricting his throat as he gasped and choked, the world turning dark around the edges of his vision. The creature's eyes glowed with an infernal fire, piercing through the haze of fear. Desperately, Yosefu clawed at its arm, trying to pry those unyielding fingers away, but it was no use—his strength waned as the pressure intensified.
Just when he thought all hope was lost, a voice broke through the chaos. "Hey!" It boomed with authority, sending a jolt of unexpected relief through Yosefu. A figure burst forth from the shadows, a striking young man whose multicolored hair—a bold blend of black and white—swirled around him like a storm. His eyes gleamed red, mirroring the fury of the looming creature.
Clad in a fitted leather biker jacket emblazoned with a majestic design of a lion with eagle wings, the jacket glowed with red lightning that danced across its surface, amplifying his already formidable presence. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, wielding a dagger engulfed in flames. In a flurry of motion, he slashed through the shadow creatures, bright trails of fire illuminating the night. Their forms disintegrated upon contact, leaving only the one still grappling with Yosefu.
Realizing its comrades were being obliterated, the creature hurled Yosefu away like a rag doll. He crashed against a parked car, the impact jarring him as he clutched his chest, coughing violently, desperately trying to regain his breath.
The unknown hero pressed on, closing in on the last remaining shadow fiend. But the creature was swift, evading his lightning-quick strikes effortlessly. It retaliated with a fierce kick, which the young man barely blocked with his left hand, the force sending him skidding across the pavement. He planted his feet firmly, refusing to succumb to the creature's strength.
"Is that all you got, bitch?" he taunted, a smirk crossing his lips. But then, in a surprising twist, the shadow creature vanished, dissipating into a swirling black mist.
"Damn it! He got away," he exclaimed, sheathing his black-handled silver blade into a waist pouch. When he turned back, he found Yosefu on the ground, still bewildered and struggling to breathe.
"Are you okay?" the hero asked, his expression softening as he noticed Yosefu's ragged breaths.
"W-What was that thing?" Yosefu stuttered, his voice cracking with panic.
"Those are what we call Shadow Dealers—a type of demon from hell."
"D-Demon!" Yosefu's eyes widened in horror.
"Yeah, demons—residents of the dark realm," he confirmed, his gaze steady.
"W-Who are you?" Yosefu whispered, the fear still etched across his face.
"Who, me? I'm Anzu, your Guardian Angel," he replied, a roguish smile creeping onto his lips.
Yosefu's expression morphed into one of confusion, his mind racing to comprehend the revelation.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Anna lay peacefully asleep, ensnared in the clutches of a vivid nightmare. The chaos of war roared in her mind—fire rained from the heavens, and she could hear Yosefu's name echoing around her, pleading. She jerked awake, gasping as anxiety gripped her heart. Had she been dreaming? Her mind swirled, and as she tried to shake it off, muffled sounds drifted from downstairs.
Curiosity piqued, Anna reached for her iron baseball bat, gripping it tightly. With stealthy steps, she crept toward the kitchen, the stark quiet broken by the clatter of metal utensils and a low murmur. Peering around the corner, she pressed her back against the wall, taking a deep breath. She needed to gather her courage. Flicking the kitchen light on, she pivoted dramatically, bat raised, ready to strike.
To her surprise, she found her boyfriend, Pallo, stumbling around, utterly oblivious. "Woah woah! It's me, Mary!" he slurred, his shock evident.
"Pallo! What are you doing here?" she asked, a mix of relief and anger whirling within her.
"I felt bad about our argument. Just wanted to see my baby," he replied, brandishing a half-empty beer bottle like a trophy, the acrid stench of alcohol and cigars filling the air.
"You need to head home, Pallo."
"What? Whyyy? I came all this way!" He staggered, his words slurring as he fought to maintain his balance. "Just to see your pretty ass, and this is how you treat me?"
"You're drunk, Pallo! You told me to leave you alone! You've got plenty of other girls. So why are you here?" she challenged, her frustration bubbling over.
"Don't be like that! I'm sorry! You know you're my girl. Now come here, give me a kiss!" he declared, lunging toward her. But he miscalculated, tripping over his own feet and collapsing onto the kitchen floor, unconscious.
Anna sighed, her heart sinking. This was a familiar dance; the chaos of her life never seemed to end. She dropped the bat to the floor, knowing she'd have to deal with this later. For now, chaos had walked into her life once again— in the shape of her drunken boyfriend.