"If you're gonna enslave me, at least give me cool gear. Preferably something fast, black, and dangerous."
The apartment was a mess.
Smoke hung in the air like a dying breath. My ceiling was gone, the walls cracked, and the blood of otherworldly beasts soaked into my anime posters. A hell of a way to start the week.
The goddess—because that's what she was—stood there inspecting my fridge with the curiosity of a cat.
She opened it. Sniffed. Closed it.
"You mortals eat this… willingly?"
Only when we're out of instant ramen."
She turned back to me, arms folded, violet eyes still glowing faintly.
I stepped toward her, still shirtless, my body buzzing with unfamiliar power.
"Alright. Before we continue this fantasy cosplay quest," I said, pointing at her glowing sigil on my chest, "You crashed into my life, marked me with some kind of slave contract, and nearly got me killed by flying demons. I think I deserve some answers."
Her gaze didn't waver. "You do."
"First off," I said, lowering my voice, "what's your name?"
A small smile curved her lips. "Lysaria. Goddess of Twilight and Exile."
Twilight and Exile. Great. I got the rebellious one.
"Okay, Lysaria," I said, slowly, "mind telling me what your actual goal is here?"
She tilted her head. "My goal is to dismantle the Twelve Divine Thrones."
"…Sounds like a metal band."
"They are the ruling gods of the upper realms. Tyrants. Corrupt. And afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"You," she said simply. "Or rather, what someone like you could become… with the right trigger."
I blinked. "You picked me by accident."
She smiled. "Accidents have potential."
Fair enough.
I crossed my arms. "So this slave contract… What's the catch?"
"You are bound to my will in combat and spirit," she said. "Your power grows as I task you. But disobedience will burn your soul."
"So no 'I quit' button, huh."
"Not unless you like turning into divine ash."
Cool. Definitely need a raise.
Lysaria stepped toward me and placed a hand over the sigil glowing on my chest. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat echoing inside my bones.
"I need you to destroy a devil shrine that appeared in the outskirts of this city. It's a beacon—they'll keep coming unless it's purged."
"Great," I muttered. "Guess I'm a part-time hitman now."
I walked over to the shattered window frame, the city skyline blinking in the distance.
Then I turned to her with a grin.
"If I'm doing this… I want something first."
She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
I pointed at her, then back to myself, and said it like a prayer.
"A bike."
Lysaria blinked. "What?"
"A proper one. Black. Fast. Looks like it came straight out of hell. Preferably with runes, boosters, and zero traffic laws."
"Why would you—"
"Because," I said, turning dramatically toward the city lights, "if I'm going to destroy evil... I'm going to do it in style."
She stared at me.
Then sighed.
"So be it."
She raised her hand—and space folded.
From thin air, darkness coiled like a serpent, and out of the void rumbled the sound of a purring beast. Tires scorched reality. And then it materialized:
A blacked-out Yamaha R6, matte-finished, runes glowing faintly along its frame, its engine humming with something more than gasoline.
I took a slow step toward it, eyes wide. Touched the grip.
My soul tingled.
"This…" I whispered, "this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"You've never had a girlfriend, have you?" Lysaria asked.
I swung my leg over the bike.
"Nope. But I've seen Fast & Furious, and I feel spiritually complete right now."
"If I'm going to hunt devils, I want two things—answers, and horsepower."
The ruins of Tokyo's industrial zone were quiet.
Too quiet.
Cracked concrete. Rusted cargo containers. The smell of ash and ozone. This place hadn't been touched in years—abandoned after the Great Dimensional Quake warped half the city into a ghost maze.
And yet, something pulsed in the air. A presence. Unholy.
I parked the bike at the edge of a broken flyover and stood still. The wind blew dust across my face. The devil shrine was nested deep in the remains of a shipping yard—crystal spires like black tumors rising from the earth, glowing veins of corruption weaving through metal and rebar.
"That's it, huh?"
Lysaria's voice echoed in my mind, smooth as ever."Yes. Destroy it, and sever the summoning channel before more come through."
I cracked my knuckles. "You know, some divine instructions would be helpful right about now."
"I gave you power. Figure out the rest."
Helpful as always, Your Holiness.
I slid my sword from my back—one of the twin etherblades gifted by the pact. It shimmered with a faint silver glow, reacting to the shrine's presence.
I walked down a collapsed ramp and made my way into the yard.
And that's when I saw them.
Four figures, cloaked in red-black robes. Horned. Their skin shimmered like ash and oil, their eyes glowing with infernal light.
Demonkin. Shrine-bound cultists.
One of them snarled as he noticed me. "A mortal?"
Another hissed. "No… not just a mortal. He's marked."
"Marked by who?" I said casually, flipping my blade in hand. "Santa?"
They attacked.
The first charged me with a crimson glaive, but I sidestepped, parried, and slashed his torso open in one fluid motion. His blood hissed like acid as he collapsed.
The second threw fire.
Big mistake.
I raised my hand. The divine sigil on my chest glowed—and a pulse of aura magic burst outward like a shockwave. The fireball shattered in mid-air. My foot hit the ground, and I surged forward.
Three precise slashes.One cultist down.
The last two circled me—one with a chain whip crackling with electricity, the other dual-wielding bone daggers.
Alright. Let's dance.
The whip lashed at me—too slow. I ducked, closed the gap, and elbowed him in the jaw so hard his teeth scattered across the yard like dice.
The dagger-wielder got one stab in—just one.
But the moment his blade grazed my arm, my aura flared, and a surge of divine retaliation blasted through him like lightning.
"You're marked by something else entirely..." he gasped before fading into dust.
I stood there in the middle of burning crates, corpses, and glowing embers, panting slightly.
Too easy.
I turned to the shrine. It pulsed with dark energy—alive, aware.
Guess I better finish the job.
I raised my sword. A command echoed in my head from the pact.
"Purge."
I slashed the air—and a wave of divine energy tore through the shrine like a holy tsunami. Crystals cracked. Energy screamed. And with a sound like glass shattering inside your bones, the entire structure collapsed into itself.
Silence.
I exhaled, letting the power subside.
And then—click.
A gun cocked behind me.
I turned slowly.
Three bounty hunters.
Not cultists. Not demons. Humans—enhanced, high-tech, hired by someone who wanted me gone.
"You Kaito Ren?" one of them said, voice cold through a mask.
I rolled my shoulder. "You boys just missed the fun."
The lead one aimed a rifle at me. "You're coming with us."
I looked at the destroyed shrine behind me.
Then at my bike, still humming on the overpass.
I smiled.
"Nah. I'm leaving. You're chasing."
Moments Later — Highway Ruins, Night
The Yamaha R6 tore across the city ruins like a beast let loose.
I revved the engine, the divine runes lighting up along the chassis. It was fast. Too fast for anything manmade. My hoodie flapped like wings in the wind. The rear tire screamed as I drifted hard into a collapsed intersection.
Behind me, the bounty hunters followed—on modified hoverbikes laced with demonic tech. Red trails of energy burned the night.
They opened fire.
I ducked low, a bullet grazing my arm. I gritted my teeth and kicked the R6 into full throttle.
Let's see what this thing can really do.
A rune on the handlebar lit up. I pressed it.
The R6's boosters ignited, and I launched forward like a bullet out of hell, weaving between wreckage and collapsed neon billboards.
I took a sharp turn, fired my pistol backward, and tagged one of the bikes in the fuel cell.
BOOM.
One down.
The second pulled up beside me, aiming a plasma blade. I swerved into him, kicking out with one foot and slamming him into a pole.
"Two."
The last hunter didn't hesitate. He flew up, trying to cut me off from above.
But the R6's runes reacted again.
Wings of Light.Two phantom fins extended from the sides of the bike—hover mode.
I launched upward, flipped mid-air, and landed on the enemy's hoverbike, jamming my sword through his control panel.
We crashed in a blaze of sparks.
I rolled off the wreck, landed next to my bike, and dusted my jacket.
"Still alive."
Lysaria's voice rang out in my mind again, amused.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"I mean," I said, hopping back onto the R6, "if being a slave means getting a divine superbike and licensed to kill devil scum… I could do worse."
"And so began the chaos. The first bounty. The first shrine. The first escape.
I was just getting started."