Ring. Ring.
The sound burrowed through the fog in Lisa Carter's head. She groaned, lifting her head from the cluttered mess of case files and empty coffee cups spread across her desk. Her neck throbbed from sleeping in the chair.
Ring. Ring.
Her phone still buzzed on the desk. She reached for it, eyes blurry, and caught a glimpse of the clock on her cell phone screen. 4:27 p.m.
"What the hell?" she muttered. She had worked all night, trying to decipher the cursed eye-circle symbol. Strings of red yarn connected crime scene photos, dates, and suspect sketches pinned to the corkboard on her wall. But the lines were leading nowhere, and now time had slipped past her.
She answered the call, rubbing her face. "Carter."
"Lisa," came Reid's gravelly voice. "We've got a situation. A murder at Sakura Park. Public toilets."
Her stomach dropped. "On my way."
Sakura Park was normally alive with families and joggers, but now the west entrance was swarmed with police. The autumn leaves looked too bright against the yellow-and-black crime scene tape. Two uniformed guards blocked the men's restroom.
Carter flashed her badge and ducked inside.
The stench hit her first—blood, metallic and suffocating. She steadied herself before stepping further. Detective Reid knelt on the wet tile floor, his gloved hands hovering over the body of a teenage boy. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered, casting ugly shadows across the scene.
Carter's throat tightened. The boy couldn't have been older than sixteen. His uniform shirt clung to him, soaked in red. His chest and abdomen were riddled with stab wounds—sloppy, violent, and merciless.
Reid stood slowly as Carter approached. His jaw was tight, his eyes hard. "Victim's a student. Mirai High School."
"Name?" Carter asked, bracing herself.
He handed her a plastic evidence bag containing a school ID. The boy's face smiled faintly from the laminated card.
Akihiko Shimizu. Date of Birth: June 2nd. Mirai High School – 'Guided by the White Star.'
Carter's stomach twisted as she slid the card back into the bag. Just a kid.
Reid's gaze drifted past her. Carter followed it to the wall above the urinals—and her blood ran cold.
The symbol.
The same eye-circle, carved into the bathroom wall, painted in Akihiko's blood.
Carter studied Reid's reaction more carefully than the symbol itself. His eyes twitched—just once, but it was there. A tiny fracture in his calm mask.
She straightened. "We're partners, right?"
Reid blinked, caught off guard. "Of course we are."
"We trust each other," Carter pressed, her tone sharp. "We tell each other everything. So, is there something you're hiding from me?"
Reid rose to his full height, dusting his trousers. He stepped closer, his face unreadable. "I'm not hiding anything." His voice was too smooth, too practiced.
Then he walked away.
Carter stayed where she was, staring at the bloody eye-circle. Her fists clenched.
Liar.
Back inside Block 51, chaos hadn't slowed. The air was filled with demon roars, crashing rubble, and the shouts of exhausted fighters.
Jay, Sota, and Masato were cornered in the shell of a collapsed warehouse. The scythe-armed demon towered before them, its grin wide and cruel.
It swung again, black energy slicing through the air in jagged arcs. Every slash cut stone like paper. Sota yanked Jay backward just in time to avoid one blast, then shoved Masato aside as another cleaved a support beam in half.
"Move, left!" Sota barked, his eyes darting as visions flickered in his head.
Jay obeyed, feeling the scythe blade whistle past his cheek. He charged forward, claws gleaming, but the demon twisted unnaturally, bending its spine in ways no human could. Its foot lashed out, catching Jay square in the abdomen.
The force sent him crashing through a weakened wall. Dust and stone rained down as he landed hard on his back. Pain radiated through him, his breath knocked from his lungs.
Then he saw it.
A scroll.
It had rolled free from the rubble, landing just beside him. His heart skipped.
Finally.
He reached for it—but a streak of black energy ripped past, slicing the ground where his hand had been. The scroll tumbled further, rolling away.
"Shit!" Jay scrambled up, chasing after it, dodging more black energy blasts as the demon kept him pinned.
Masato's patience snapped. His fingers twisted in a series of quick signs. The ground around him rippled with darkness.
"Enough of this!"
Four shadowy wolves erupted from the floor, their eyes glowing white. They snarled and lunged, their bodies sleek and fast.
The demon chuckled, unimpressed. It swung its scythes, cutting through one wolf like it was mist. But instead of fading, the wolf dissolved into serpentine tendrils that coiled around the demon's arm.
"What—?!" the demon snarled, tugging.
The second wolf leapt. The same thing happened: sliced, then shifting into shadow-serpents that latched onto the demon's other arm.
The grin faltered.
The final two wolves slammed into its legs, transforming and binding tight. In seconds, the monster's limbs were locked.
Masato's voice cracked with strain as sweat poured down his temple. "I can't hold it long—someone hit him now!"
Jay didn't hesitate. He scooped up the scroll, clutched it tight, then lunged. His claws gleamed as he struck, aiming for the demon's chest.
But at the last moment, the monster twisted violently, ripping through the shadow bonds with raw, acrobatic force. It sprang backward, Jay's claws slashing only air.
"Damn it!" Jay cursed, skidding on the rubble.
But then a shadow passed overhead.
"Don't forget about me," Sota's calm voice rang.
He dropped from above, his flat palm glowing faintly. It connected squarely with the demon's shoulder.
The force wasn't enough to kill—but it was enough to stagger. The demon's guard faltered.
And that was all Jay needed.
He surged forward, claws piercing deep into the demon's back. The creature's scream was guttural, furious—but it cut off as its body dissolved into black mist, scattering like smoke.
The three of them collapsed to the ground, their chests heaving. Dust settled around them, the scroll clutched tightly in Jay's blood-streaked hand.
For the first time in what felt like hours, silence filled the space.
Masato leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow. "Finally… it's over."