The city skyline pulsed with neon veins, its towering structures defiant against the endless void of night. Rain streaked the glass facades, painting the streets in molten reflections of gold and crimson. The rhythmic hum of late-night traffic wove seamlessly into the distant murmur of conversations spilling from ramen stalls and izakayas, a symphony of urban life.
Yet beneath the electric glow and ceaseless chatter, something festered.
Reiyan Arasaka moved through the labyrinth of steel and shadow, his black school bag slung over his shoulder, each step an echo against the rain-slicked pavement. Tall for sixteen, his frame was lean but firm—honed by discipline he never asked for. His raven-black hair, damp from the drizzle, clung to his forehead, barely concealing the piercing silver of his eyes—eyes that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
The city had always been his anchor, its familiar chaos a lullaby against the storm inside his head. The scent of rain-soaked concrete, the distant clang of a train passing overhead—these were constants. But tonight, something was wrong.
A chill slithered down his spine.
Not the kind that came with the cold, but the kind that whispered of unseen things clawing at the edges of reality.
Reiyan's pace slowed as he turned onto the path leading home. His family's estate loomed ahead—a sleek monument of glass and stone, standing in eerie silence beneath the pale eye of the moon. The wrought-iron gate groaned as he pushed it open, its cry lost beneath the rain.
The lights were off.
A whisper of unease coiled around his ribs, tightening with each hesitant step forward. He pulled his keys from his pocket, the metal cold against his palm, his fingers trembling as he reached for the lock.
Why does this feel like a graveyard?
The door swung open with a creak.
And then—
The stench of burning flesh.
Heat slammed into him, stealing the breath from his lungs. Smoke curled like phantom hands, clawing at the walls, licking at the splintered remains of his once-pristine home. Flames devoured the grand hall, their orange tongues reflected in the shards of a shattered chandelier.
Reiyan's pulse thundered in his ears.
"Mom! Dad!"
His voice cracked, swallowed by the inferno.
He stumbled forward, his school bag slipping from his grasp as he pushed past the wreckage. Ash rained down like black snow, settling on the broken remnants of his childhood. His breath hitched as his gaze locked onto a figure sprawled across the marble floor.
A charred body.
His father.
The once-proud shoulders, the familiar cut of his frame—it was unmistakable. But the fire had stolen his face, reducing him to a husk of what he had been. Beside him, the family's ancestral sword lay in pieces, its silver hilt reflecting the flickering flames.
Reiyan dropped to his knees.
His hands trembled as they hovered over the body, as if touching it could somehow rewrite reality. His throat tightened, but no words came. No screams. No curses. Just silence.
Then, a sound.
A weak, rasping cough.
He turned sharply, his heart lurching as he spotted her.
His mother.
She was slumped against the dining room wall, her black hair—so much like his own—matted with blood and soot. A deep wound marred her side, crimson staining the floor beneath her. Yet, as weak as she was, her dark eyes found him.
"Reiyan…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm here," he choked out, scrambling to her side, pressing his hands against the wound. The warmth of her blood seeped between his fingers, burning like molten iron.
"You… must… run…"
Her trembling hand reached for his face, her touch soft despite the agony in her eyes. A small, sad smile touched her lips.
"No," he breathed, shaking his head. "You're going to be okay. I'll get help—"
Her grip tightened.
"Listen to me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "They're coming… You must survive."
A shadow fell over them.
The air grew dense, thick with something far worse than smoke.
Reiyan's breath hitched as he turned his head—and froze.
A creature stood amidst the ruins, its body an abyssal void that twisted the air around it. Eyes like burning coals locked onto him, and in an instant, the temperature dropped. Its jagged claws flexed, the edges dripping with an inky darkness that seemed to consume the very light around it.
A demon.
The thing moved, faster than thought, its claws slicing through the air—
His mother shoved him.
Reiyan crashed to the ground, his vision swimming as the impact rattled his bones.
He looked up just in time to see her body swallowed whole.
A scream tore from his throat.
But the demon ignored him. It turned, its soulless gaze locking onto him now.
The air seemed to freeze. Reiyan wanted to move, to run, to fight—but his body refused to obey. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision tunneling as the creature raised a claw, poised for the final strike—
Then, the world shattered.
A sound, sharp as splintering glass, cut through the air. The demon convulsed violently, its body writhing as if an unseen force was tearing it apart from the inside.
And then—
It crumbled to dust.
From the smoke, he emerged.
A lone figure, standing amidst the ruin, his silhouette backlit by the dying embers. He looked human—almost. Pale skin, silver hair that fell in disarray over piercing, mismatched eyes—one silver, one crimson. But there was something wrong about him, something unnatural in the way the shadows bent around him, as if the very air recognized his presence.
Reiyan's breath came in short, desperate gasps as he stared up at the stranger.
The man gazed down at him, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak, didn't explain. He simply tilted his head, as if studying Reiyan like a specimen under a microscope.
Reiyan's hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms. His voice was raw, trembling with grief and rage.
"Who… who are you?"
The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements unnervingly smooth, like a predator circling its prey. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost bored.
"You can see them," he said, not a question but a statement. "The demons."
Reiyan blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. "Demons? What are you—"
The man cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Don't bother asking questions you're not ready to understand. You're alive. That's all that matters for now."
Reiyan's chest heaved, his vision still blurred with tears. "They killed my parents. They—"
"Your parents are dead," the man interrupted, his tone cold and matter-of-fact. "And if you don't pull yourself together, you'll be next."
Reiyan's fists tightened, his grief giving way to anger. "Who the hell are you? Why should I trust you?"
The man smirked, a faint, almost mocking curve of his lips. "Trust me? I didn't ask for your trust. I'm here because you're interesting. That's all."
Before Reiyan could respond, the man turned, his silver hair catching the faint glow of the embers. "If you want to survive, follow me. If not… well, the next demon won't be as polite as that one."
He began to walk away, his footsteps silent against the charred floor.
Reiyan hesitated, his mind racing. He glanced back at the ruins of his home, at the ashes of the life he once knew. Then, with a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his feet.
"Wait!" he called out, his voice hoarse. "What's your name?"
The man didn't stop, didn't even look back. But his voice carried through the smoke, calm and detached.
"Call me Kael. And if you're smart, you'll keep up."