The Hell Hound stood still, its armor glowing like hot metal. The air around it felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath. Flames flickered from the cracks in its black armor, and its eyes burned with a deadly fire.
A group of devil hunters appeared from the shadows. They were cautious, weapons drawn, but they could feel it. This wasn't a fight like any other. They were facing something much worse.
"Stay alert," their leader, Kaito, warned. "We don't know what we're up against."
The Hell Hound roared, and its massive black sword swung down. The ground cracked under the force of the blow. The shockwave hit the hunters like a wall, throwing them back. The Hell Hound didn't hesitate—it was a monster of pure destruction.
One of the hunters, a rookie, struggled to get up. But before he could react, the Hell Hound let out another roar. This time, molten rocks began to build inside its chest, swirling with intensity.
The Hell Hound's chest exploded in a burst of molten rocks, a wave of heat and destruction crashing down. The hunters tried to move, but the molten rocks spread too fast. The young rookie was caught, his screams fading as the burning rocks turned him to ash.
"Move!" Kaito yelled. He barely dodged the blast, but the heat singed his skin. They were outmatched.
The Hell Hound wasn't done. It twisted its body, and smaller bursts of molten rock shot from its body, like fiery projectiles. Each one hit its target with deadly accuracy. Kaito barely managed to dodge one, but it struck another hunter, sending him crashing to the ground.
"We need to think of something!" Kaito shouted, scrambling to his feet.
Just when they thought it couldn't get worse, the Hell Hound raised its arm. Its mouth opened wide, and something massive shifted inside. The ground trembled. The Hell Hound pulled a giant black sword out of its mouth. It shouldn't have fit inside the beast's body, but somehow it did.
Kaito's eyes widened. "Get back!" he ordered, but it was too late.
The Hell Hound swung its sword down with all its might, sending shockwaves through the earth. The sword cut deep into the ground, creating a massive crack. Anything in its path was destroyed.
The Hell Hound wasn't finished yet. As it prepared for the final blow, it did something different. The beast closed its mouth tight, a low growl rumbling deep inside. Its body seemed to heat up, the molten rocks inside churning with power.
Then, with both hands, the Hell Hound pulled its mouth open. The force was so strong, it seemed like the air itself cracked. From its mouth came a massive Tochort blast—an unstoppable wave of molten rock, as if the earth itself was being torn apart.
The remaining hunters tried to flee, but it was hopeless. The blast hit them with terrifying force, turning the ground to lava and tearing through everything in its path. The air was thick with smoke, and the screams of the devils who couldn't escape echoed in the distance.
Kaito managed to dive behind a building, his heart pounding in his chest.
The Hell Hound let out a final roar, its fiery eyes scanning the destruction it had caused.
Kaito, battered and bruised, slowly rose to his feet. His team was gone. There was nothing left but smoke, smoldering rubble, and molten rock. The Hell Hound stood amidst the devastation, its body still glowing with fiery energy.
The battle wasn't over—it was just beginning.
Kaito's body ached as he stumbled through the smoke and rubble. His vision blurred, the taste of ash heavy in his mouth. He didn't know how many of his team had survived—if any. The Hell Hound had left nothing but destruction in its wake.
The ground was cracked, molten rock bubbling beneath the surface, and everything was either burned or shattered. Kaito's heart pounded in his chest. This wasn't a fight he was prepared for.
With shaky hands, he drew his weapon—a cursed blade passed down through generations of his family. He wasn't a fool. He knew that it wouldn't be enough to stop something like the Hell Hound, but he had to try.
"Come out, monster!" Kaito shouted, his voice hoarse. "Come finish what you started!"
There was no answer, only the sound of molten rock splashing against the earth. The Hell Hound was still there, watching him, waiting.
From the smoke, a figure emerged. The Hell Hound was still standing tall, but its movements were slower now, like it was savoring the moment. Its black armor glowed brighter, cracks in its chest revealing a deep, molten glow.
Kaito watched in horror as the creature took a step forward. The Hell Hound's mouth opened, and Kaito's blood ran cold. It wasn't pulling out the sword again. Instead, the beast was preparing something worse—something even more deadly.
The Hell Hound began to roar, but this time it was different. The sound wasn't just a scream of rage—it was the sound of the earth itself being torn apart. The sky darkened, and the air began to tremble.
The Hell Hound's body shuddered as if it were about to explode, and molten rock poured from its mouth like a geyser. The blast was like nothing Kaito had ever seen before. It was a force of nature, capable of flattening everything in its path.
With the last of his strength, Kaito raised his cursed blade, trying to shield himself from the blast. But the molten rock hit him with the force of a tidal wave, throwing him back into the ruins. His body slammed into a pile of rubble, pain exploding in his chest. Blood filled his mouth.
But the Hell Hound wasn't finished.
Just as Kaito's vision began to fade, a sudden, cold wind swept through the ruins. For a split second, the Hell Hound froze, its fiery eyes narrowing as if it had heard something distant.
Then, its body shuddered again. The Hell Hound raised its head to the sky, and the mouth opened wide. From deep within the beast's throat, a low growl echoed.
Kaito couldn't see it, but he felt it. The air around him shimmered, and then the Hell Hound's mouth opened wider—much wider than before.
A strange darkness filled the space. Kaito's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.
The Hell Hound wasn't just attacking anymore. It was pulling something—someone—into its mouth. And once inside, Kaito knew, there would be no escape.
Before Kaito could react, a voice boomed from the darkness inside the Hell Hound's mouth. It was deep, primal, and filled with a terrifying authority.
"You cannot escape extinction. It is inevitable."
Kaito's heart stopped. The voice wasn't just a devil's roar—it was the voice of a force that transcended everything. A primal fear. Extinction. The end of all things.
The darkness swallowed him, and he felt his body being pulled into the beast's maw.
But something strange happened. As he fell into the dark void, he felt no pain. There was no sound, no heat, just an overwhelming sense of weightlessness. The time inside the Hell Hound's mouth felt like an eternity. But it was more than that.
Kaito blinked, his eyes adjusting to the strange new space. It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before. It was a void—an endless expanse that stretched out in every direction.
The only thing that was visible was the Hell Hound's body, now much smaller, suspended in the air before him. The beast was surrounded by a glowing, fiery aura. Its armor had changed, and something inside it felt... different.
Kaito's eyes widened as he realized the truth.
The Hell Hound was no longer just a devil. It had become something more—something that existed outside of time and space.
Inside the void, the Hell Hound's fiery eyes locked onto Kaito.
"You are in my world now," it growled, its voice low and terrifying. "I am extinction. And in my world, time doesn't exist. Your fate is already sealed."
Kaito tried to move, but the space around him felt like it was pressing down on him. The Hell Hound was no longer just a beast—it was a force of nature, capable of bending reality itself.
And as the Hell Hound continued to speak, Kaito realized there was no escape from the nightmare that was about to unfold.
as Kaito's body burned. His muscles screamed in pain as his consciousness was pulled into darkness. The Hell Hound's roar echoed in his mind, a terrifying growl that reverberated through his entire being. But it wasn't just the sound of a devil's voice. It was a force, something deeper—something ancient.
The creature's fiery eyes, glowing with rage, bore into Kaito's soul. The darkness around him twisted, and the air grew thick with a suffocating pressure.
"You are weak," the voice boomed. "But you are no longer in control."
Kaito struggled to move, but his body betrayed him. His limbs grew heavy, as if shackled by invisible chains. A burning sensation spread through his chest, down his arms, and into his veins.
And then... everything went dark.
When Kaito's eyes opened again, they were no longer his own.
A pair of fiery, golden eyes stared back at him—eyes that weren't his, eyes that reflected the rage and hatred of a creature born from the very concept of Wrath. His brown hair had darkened, and the sharp angles of his face seemed more pronounced, more intimidating, almost as if he had become something... other.
The glasses that had once sat neatly on Kaito's face were now cracked and twisted, barely clinging to his face.
But it wasn't Kaito who was in control anymore.
The beast inside him, the Hell Hound, had taken over his body, and with it, the title of Wrath.
His mind screamed in horror as his own emotions were twisted. Every ounce of anger, every drop of frustration, every feeling of helplessness Kaito had ever bottled up was now magnified, as if the devil had tapped into his very soul.
"I am Wrath," the voice hissed from within. "I will burn this world to the ground."
Kaito—no, Wrath—felt the power surging through his body, felt his muscles bulge, the armor of the Hell Hound wrapping around him like a second skin. His hands clenched into fists, his fingers growing into claws, and his mouth burned with an unholy fire, as the beast's power filled every inch of his being.
Kaito—or rather, Wrath—stood, towering over the destruction. The city was already broken, but now, under the influence of the Hell Hound, it was just another casualty of his rage.
His body, still pulsing with the fiery energy of the Hell Hound, burned with molten fury. He could feel the power coursing through him, and it was impossible to control.
He was not the innocent 17-year-old anymore, with his neat brown hair and glasses that made him look like a young, refined version of Aizen. No, he was Wrath, a devil, a force of nature. And there was only one thing on his mind now: destruction.
His gaze swept over the city, and he could already hear the screams, the cries of fear and pain from those who had survived the initial onslaught. It made his blood boil. The very thought of weakness, of human frailty, disgusted him. The world had to burn.
Meanwhile, miles away, Denji sat in a classroom at a high school, oblivious to the chaos unfolding just outside the city. Life had become oddly normal for him after Makima's death.
He was just another teenager now, trying to live a life that wasn't filled with constant danger. He had his friends, his schoolwork, and, of course, his obsession with getting a girlfriend.
But that normalcy was fragile. He could feel it. He could feel the world around him shifting. It wasn't the same anymore. And somewhere, deep inside, he felt like he was missing something.
Back in the wreckage, Wrath stood tall, his rage-building with each passing second. His senses were sharp, his vision crystal clear through the haze of molten rock. The world around him was nothing more than an obstacle, something to be crushed underfoot.
He could feel Kaito's remnants inside him, but they were weak, fading. Kaito's presence was nothing more than a whisper, drowned out by the firestorm that raged inside.
But there was something else. Wrath could hear voices in the distance, voices of survivors, helpless and afraid. They were nearby.
And that was when Wrath smiled—a twisted, malevolent grin that stretched across Kaito's face. It wasn't a smile of joy, but of sheer satisfaction.
"Time to make them suffer," Wrath muttered under his breath, before launching himself into the air with a blast of molten flame, destroying everything in his path.
Back at school, Denji felt it. A shift in the air. He stood up abruptly, his heart racing. Something was wrong.
Without thinking, he rushed out of the classroom, his mind spinning with unease. The world around him felt like it was closing in, the edges of reality warping. He didn't know why, but he knew that this day would be different.
And somewhere, in the distance, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of devastation.
The streets trembled beneath Wrath's feet as he made his way toward the school. His monstrous form cast a shadow over the city, the fiery glow of molten rock dripping from his armor as he walked through the ruins, every step reverberating with destruction.
He wasn't moving quickly, but it didn't matter. Every building he passed collapsed under his sheer presence. His mouth burned with an unholy fire, and his fists clenched, eager to release his fury on whatever stood in his path.
As he neared the school, Wrath felt something different. The humans inside—teenagers, teachers, they were all weak. But there was something special about this place. It was a symbol of order, of normalcy, something the beast wanted to destroy.
He arrived at the gates of the school and slammed his fist into the walls. The gates crumbled, and Wrath stepped inside. The ground cracked beneath him, splintering in every direction.
Classrooms lay in ruins, walls torn apart by his sheer power. Students ran in panic, screaming as he marched through the school. His fiery eyes locked onto every person he saw, burning them with an inner rage that threatened to consume the entire building.
"Die," he muttered, as he raised his fist, flames boiling inside his mouth.
Then, suddenly, he froze.
Something was approaching. Something... strong. It was a force that felt different from anything he had ever encountered.
Wrath's instincts flared. He could feel the presence of something—or someone—more powerful, and it was coming closer.
With a growl, he turned, ignoring the fleeing students as he focused on the source of this new energy. His mouth opened wide, the fire and rage within him building again as he prepared for the coming battle.
And then, Wrath saw it: a figure, standing among the rubble of the school grounds, a strange aura radiating from them. It was a person, but not just any person. Their power was overwhelming, and it was clear that this was not someone to be taken lightly.
The battle was on.
Wrath charged, faster than before, feeling the heat of the flames on his skin as he rushed toward the figure. His body erupted with fiery energy, but the stranger was no fool. They anticipated the attack, stepping to the side with uncanny precision. A moment later, they unleashed a counterattack, sending Wrath crashing into the ground with a powerful strike.
The clash sent shockwaves through the air, knocking over nearby buildings. Wrath roared in anger, but this new opponent wasn't fazed. They were strong, maybe even stronger than him, but the Hell Hound had only one thing in mind: Destruction.
The two collided again and again, flames and raw power filling the air. The fight seemed endless, an unrelenting storm of force and fury. However, in the midst of the chaos, Wrath could feel his power growing. His rage, his strength, his everything was increasing with every passing second. But so was his opponent's.
And just as quickly as the fight had started, it ended.
Wrath staggered, panting heavily. His body was bruised and burnt, but it was nothing compared to the force he had faced. His opponent stood tall, but there was an unmistakable sign of exhaustion.
The air felt tense, as if the battle had only just begun, but something in the distance was pulling Wrath's attention away.
That was when he sensed it—Denji.
Wrath felt his fury seethe as his mind registered the power of Denji in the distance. He didn't know who this boy was, but there was something familiar about him. Something important.
He turned away from the figure and pushed forward. He could sense the boy's power—raw and untamed, like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
A sense of competition flared within him. He had to confront this person, to see if he could match his own rage. It was as if an ancient part of him, buried deep within his devilish form, demanded this confrontation.
The next day, the aftermath of the attack on the school was still felt by everyone. Broken windows, cracked walls, and scorched earth were reminders of the destruction. But amidst the chaos, life had to go on.
The school had been partially restored, but the damage was severe. Most students were still recovering from the shock, unsure of what to do next.
As the bell rang for the new school day, the students in Asa's class were caught off guard. Today, the students from Kaito's former class were being integrated with theirs.
And, to their surprise, one of the new students was none other than Kaito himself.
He stepped into the classroom, looking the same as he had before. Brown hair, glasses, and a quiet demeanor. But there was something different about him. His eyes—those fiery golden eyes—were darker now, filled with a deeper intensity.
No one knew what had really happened to Kaito, and none dared ask. They had heard rumors, whispers of some sort of attack, of devastation and chaos caused by a monstrous figure. But now, there he was, standing in front of them, as if nothing had happened.
Asa glanced at him, a chill running down her spine. There was something off about him. His smile, the way he held himself—it was like he was someone else entirely.
"Kaito," he said, his voice calm, almost too calm.
But Asa knew. She knew the truth. This wasn't Kaito anymore. This was something else.
This was Wrath.
As the lunch break started. Wrath, still in the body of Kaito, made his way to the rooftop. He clutched his bento in his hands, the simple meal a strange comfort, even though it couldn't quell the fiery rage that burned deep inside him. He needed space—distance from the chaos of the school, from the feelings that had stirred within him.
As he reached the rooftop and sat down on the ledge, the weight of the bento felt strangely heavy. His mind wandered, a flicker of memories taking him back to a time before the chaos. A time before he became Wrath.
Kaito had always lived a life of privilege. His father, a powerful CEO, ruled over a vast business empire. He had everything anyone could want—wealth, power, and an image that spoke of his family's success. But it was the little things, the moments his father had orchestrated, that Kaito remembered most.
One memory that lingered in his mind was the day his father had insisted that Kaito understand the lives of the people who worked for him. "You need to understand the common people," his father had said, a coldness in his voice as he sat behind his polished desk. "They are the foundation of everything you have."
Kaito didn't quite understand it at the time. Why would his father want him to connect with the very people he saw as tools for his own success? It all felt like a game, a way for his father to instill some sense of "humility" in his son. But Kaito, despite his confusion, had obeyed.
His father had arranged for Kaito to visit one of the company's lower-level employees, a man who worked in one of the department stores under the company's name. It was a simple job, one that didn't require much. But Kaito couldn't help but feel disgusted by the man's pitiful life, the way he spoke of his struggles, of his family's debts.
It was that visit that made Kaito's resentment bubble. It was as if his father were showing him the reality of the world—an unfair world that used people like disposable commodities.
When Kaito returned to the luxurious apartment he shared with his family, it was the warmth of his mother's smile that had always calmed him. She had been his anchor, a soft presence in the sea of corporate ambition that threatened to drown him. She would make his bento every morning with love and care, each piece carefully prepared as if the food were an offering—a ritual that showed her affection, a small but constant reminder that someone cared for him.
But now, in this form, as Wrath, that warmth was twisted. His memories, once fond, now burned in his chest, feeding his rage. His mother's love, the luxury of their apartment, everything felt like a lie. A game that trapped him in a world he never wanted to understand.
Wrath clenched his fists, the bento trembling in his hands. It wasn't the food that angered him—it was the life Kaito had lived. The way he had been cared for, protected by his wealth, never knowing the pain, the hunger, the struggle of those below. His father, his mother, they had never had to fight for survival. They lived above it all, untouched by the cruelties of the world.
The flashback receded, and Wrath snapped back into the present. He gritted his teeth, his golden eyes burning with fury. The bento in his hands seemed insignificant now. His anger wasn't about the meal—it was about the life that had been handed to him. Kaito's life. His life. The weight of that existence pressed down on him, suffocating him.
But as Wrath sat on the rooftop, the breeze cooling his face, a sense of finality began to creep in. He was close. Kaito was about to turn 18, and that would mark the end of this charade. He would leave this life behind. He would leave the memories of a privileged existence, the ties that bound him to this body, and ascend to something greater. Something that could not be bought or inherited—Wrath would be free.
As his mind raced, he heard footsteps approaching the rooftop. Someone was coming.
Denji.
The name flitted through his thoughts, and the simmering rage inside him shifted. The fight was still far from over. He needed to face that boy. He needed to prove something to himself. The hunger, the thirst for power, and the chaos he could bring—it all boiled down to this moment.
Wrath glanced at the bento, then tossed it aside with a careless flick of his wrist. The meal was no longer important.
It was time to fight.
The flashback receded, and Wrath snapped back into the present. He gritted his teeth, his golden eyes burning with fury. The bento in his hands seemed insignificant now. His anger wasn't about the meal—it was about the life that had been handed to him. Kaito's life. His life. The weight of that existence pressed down on him, suffocating him.
But as Wrath sat on the rooftop, the breeze cooling his face, a sense of finality began to creep in. He was close. Kaito was about to turn 18, and that would mark the end of this charade. He would leave this life behind. He would leave the memories of a privileged existence, the ties that bound him to this body, and ascend to something greater. Something that could not be bought or inherited—Wrath would be free.
As his mind raced, he heard footsteps approaching the rooftop. Someone was coming.
Denji.
The name flitted through his thoughts, and the simmering rage inside him shifted. The fight was still far from over. He needed to face that boy. He needed to prove something to himself. The hunger, the thirst for power, and the chaos he could bring—it all boiled down to this moment.
Wrath glanced at the bento, then tossed it aside with a careless flick of his wrist. The meal was no longer important.
It was time to fight.
Wrath's golden eyes stared down at the bento he had carelessly discarded. The anger, the searing rage that had built up in his chest over the years, felt distant for a moment. His mind was clouded by an intense, gnawing hunger, a hunger that had nothing to do with the rich life he'd once known.
He hadn't eaten anything since the summoning, and the need for sustenance, for something to fill the void, took precedence over everything else. He looked back down at the bento—Kaito's bento. It was simple, but it smelled... good. His stomach growled as if reminding him of its demand.
He scoffed at himself. Wrath didn't need this. Wrath didn't need to be tethered by the remnants of Kaito's life. But the hunger inside him twisted that thought, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed the bento and dug in, shoveling the food into his mouth without hesitation. The taste was foreign to him, but his body craved it, the warm rice and small, simple pieces of fish filling the empty pit in his stomach.
As he ate, his mind began to clear. The rage that had consumed him ebbed away, replaced by a deep satisfaction, a gnawing sense of relief as the hunger was sated. For a moment, Wrath was just Kaito again, a boy with a normal life and problems of his own. But that was fleeting. He remembered who—what—he was.
In the distance, Denji had long since lost interest in the drama unfolding on the rooftop. The chaotic storm of Wrath's appearance was nothing compared to the thrill of the hunt... and, more importantly, the search for the next girl he could impress. With a carefree whistle and a grin on his face, he strolled through the school corridors, eager to leave behind the madness of the previous days.
Girls were his current priority, and the fight, the dangers of the world, could wait.
Just as Wrath finished the last bite of the bento, the door to the rooftop opened with a soft creak. He looked up lazily, half-expecting to see some other student, likely one of the confused masses who had no idea what was happening around them.
It wasn't Denji, though.
The girl who appeared was unfamiliar—Asa. She walked cautiously toward him, her eyes scanning the rooftop, and for a moment, Wrath could see a flicker of hesitation in her gaze. There was a deep uncertainty that seemed to weigh her down, as if the very air around her carried the burden of something tragic. Her eyes flickered to him again, and then she made her decision, slowly walking forward as if drawn by something she couldn't understand.
Asa was a quiet girl—one who, in her own way, carried a heavy silence with her. Yoru, the other part of her, could feel the weight of her own thoughts pressing down on her. It had become a constant in Asa's life—the belief that she was hated. Everyone around her, every glance, every whisper, felt like rejection. It was why she always stayed out of sight, always kept her distance from others.
But for some reason, Asa felt a strange connection to Wrath. He, too, seemed like a person who carried a great burden. She approached him cautiously, despite her uncertainty, and slowly lowered herself down to sit beside him on the ledge.
As she did, her mind flashed with a warning—a voice that screamed from within her.
"Don't go near him, Asa! Stay away! He's not like the others. You don't know what he is!"
It was Yoru—her other half, the voice that constantly warned her of danger. But Asa wasn't listening. She was tired of being alone. Tired of the fear and rejection that had followed her everywhere. For once, she wanted to be close to someone, even if it was just for a moment.
Wrath barely noticed the internal struggle she was experiencing. His senses were clouded with hunger, the remnants of the previous fight still weighing on him. But as Asa settled beside him, he did feel something. A strange pull, something that nagged at the back of his mind, something more than just a human presence.
He turned his head toward her, eyes narrowing for a moment as if studying her. Then, without a word, he pushed his bento box aside and let his body relax.
But just as Asa sat down next to him, something else shifted. A sharp, unnerving voice rang out in Asa's mind.
"Get away from him, now!"
Yoru's voice—louder, more desperate this time. It was as if the entity inside her could sense something more dangerous about Wrath than she did.
Asa felt a cold chill run through her veins, but it was too late. Her body moved on its own, as if pulled by some invisible force. She took a breath, preparing to move, but something inside her heart held her still.