Location: Unknown Street - Night
His eyes narrowed, feet finding the first step before the Veil shattered—
[ Mirage Veil Effect: 0:01 ]…
[ Mirage Veil Effect: 0:00 ]…
[ Time Remaining: 11:13 ]...
Mirage Veil flickered, collapsing as he sprinted again. Keeper Stride surged through his legs, propelling him past a collapsing scroll cart—the wooden wheels cracked against the cobbles, scattering splinters. Sparks from the fireworks above scorched the air; one burst caught a pursuer's shoulder, searing cloth and flesh. The other two roared in frustration, their shadows stretching long and jagged across the warped alley walls.
[Time Remaining: 10:01]...
[Time Remaining: 10:00]...
{{{ SIGILBOUND INTERFACE }}}
[NEW ABILITY ACQUIRED: Pulse Shield]
[Lv1 — Briefly deflects small attacks]
[Activation: Mental Command | Cost: 3 MP | Duration: 5 seconds (Unless broken by heavy damages) | Cooldown: 12 seconds]
Akira's breath hitched at the glowing prompt. Another new skill, appearing right when he needed it. "Great!", His eyes skimmed the instructions, the words branding themselves into his mind as naturally as breathing.
"3 MP… mental trigger." It sounded almost absurdly straightforward, but in this chaos, simplicity was salvation. No hesitation—if he needed it, he just had to will it into being.
The alley bent again, walls curling inward like wet parchment. Painted signs bled, letters sagging as if the ink had just spilled from the brush. Lantern light swayed overhead—murky, fractured—casting warped reflections in broken windows.
Akira forced his breathing steady. The path ahead mirrored the mental map he'd drawn seconds ago: crates he could smash through with Keeper Stride, lanterns to ignite into firetraps, and the junction up ahead—a chance to vanish if he could stall them long enough.
From the corner of his eye, a shadow surged. A dagger-wielding hunter broke from the gloom, blade shimmering with a sickly green hue.
Akira didn't think—he reacted. His grip on Tsukiko tightened. Her faint heartbeat pulsed against his chest, warmth threading upward like liquid starlight. His vision tinged silver, the glyphs sparking across the Veil.
Pulse Shield!
Moonlight solidified. Tsukiko's aura unfurled in pale strands, weaving into a ripple that flared around them like a glass dome. The dagger screeched across its surface, halted an inch from her ribs. A resonant shiver rippled through the shield before fading.
She gasped softly, her fingers curling into his shirt as her cheek brushed his chest, grounding herself. The touch sent an involuntary rush of heat up his neck—but there was no time.
Akira shifted, boots hammering through puddles. The hunters' snarls echoed closer, multiplied, hungry.
He made use of the tactics he had planned again. First—the crates. Keeper Stride—impact. His shoulder slammed through the stack, wood exploding outward. Splinters whipped the air, planks skidding across the cobbles and tripping two shadows mid-leap.
Next—the lantern. A pivot, then—Kick. The crimson globe burst in a rain of fire, shards scattering like molten stars. The oil ignited along the slick stones, birthing a curtain of flame between them and the hunters.
The junction loomed ahead. Akira twisted hard, dragging Tsukiko into the side passage just as the firelight painted their backs in gold.
For a heartbeat, beyond the shimmer of the Veil, he glimpsed them—hunters weaving through shadow, their forms jagged and hungry. He could see them. They couldn't see him. For now, that had to be enough.
[Time Remaining: 09:18]...
Paper charms fluttered down from the darkness above, spiraling like snowflakes with malicious intent. Their edges shimmered with razor-thin light.
Akira twisted his body, ducking low to let most of them whistle past. But one stray charm caught the edge of Tsukiko's kimono sleeve—it didn't cut, but tugged sharply, pulling the fabric just enough to bare the pale curve of her shoulder.
"Ah—!" Her soft gasp hit him like a lightning strike.
For a fleeting moment, it reminded him of those late nights at home, headphones on, watching videos online that made his face warm and his pulse quicken—private distractions he thought no one knew about. But this… this sound, gentle and real, threaded through him in a way no recording ever had.
Not from fear—no, this was the other kind of danger. In the jolt of movement, her robe had shifted, revealing a tempting sliver of pale, silken skin against his body. His grip faltered for a heartbeat, heat crawling up his neck. He had to force himself to breathe, to look forward, to remember the chase, the hunters, the alley twisting like liquid paper around them.
Every instinct in his body shouted otherwise, every memory of private indulgences pressed insistently against his restraint—but she was here, alive, and relying on him. He clenched his jaw, letting that warmth and tension fuel his focus rather than his distraction, grounding himself in the task at hand.
They burst forward, only to stumble directly into a floating tea stall. Porcelain cups hovered in the air, spinning lazily, each steaming with fragrant but scalding tea.
"Watch out—!" shouting in his own mind, Akira ducked, narrowly avoiding a saucer to the face. "S-Sorry!" he shouted reflexively, though the vendor was nowhere to be seen. His foot clipped another cup, sending it cartwheeling toward a hunter. The scalding splash earned a muffled yelp from their pursuer—accidental counterattack accomplished.
But his landing was less graceful. His shoe skidded on a puddle of spilled tea, nearly sending both of them sprawling. Akira tightened his hold, saving her from slipping out of his arms—though the close call left her clinging tighter.
The problem? Her arms looped around his neck, her chest pressed firmly against his face. His brain nearly short-circuited (again), ears blazing like lanterns.
"Y-you're soft—no, I mean—"
She tilted her head up, eyes narrowing weakly. 'What did you say…?
"Never mind!" he blurted, bolting toward the next turn.
[Time Remaining: 08:22]...
A sudden crash to their left—one of the hunters slashed a hand toward a crooked stall, and the fruit crates toppled as if yanked by invisible strings. Glowing, spectral peaches spilled out, ricocheting unnaturally, each bounce more like a projectile than produce. Akira veered sideways, narrowly avoiding one that zipped past his face like a cannonball.
"Keeper Stride, activate!"
The thought alone surged through his legs, muscles coiling like springs. The world smeared into streaks of color for a heartbeat as sparks crackled in the air behind them. A hunter's weapon hissed past so close that the heat stung his back, and his grip on Tsukiko tightened instinctively.
Each bouncing peach was a stark reminder: nothing here was truly stable. The Spirit Market didn't just host spirits. It mimicked chaos, warping objects, distorting physics, turning ordinary items into sudden, dangerous hazards. Akira had no time to question why—they had to react, move, and keep Tsukiko safe.
With a sharp breath, he tightened his hold on her and sprinted toward the narrowing end of the alley, the echo of roaring hunters and the chaotic bounce of spectral fruit closing in behind them.
[Time Remaining: 07:37]...
The streets rippled like liquid glass, warping beneath their feet. Fat, iridescent koi swam just under the surface, golden scales reflecting fractured images of their flight. One leapt audaciously, snapping at Akira's sleeve with a ridiculous, toothy grin.
"Hey! Off!" he barked, swatting it away mid-stride. The koi splashed back into the canal, leaving a spray of glowing droplets clinging annoyingly to his shirt. Great—now he was soaked, and Tsukiko was right there, pressed against him.
Another koi darted too close, its fins brushing her ankle. Tsukiko flinched, a soft gasp slipping free as her fingers clutched at his shirt. Reflex overrode thought—Akira swept her up instinctively. The sudden weight jolted through him, ears blazing, pulse rocketing.
He could have used Mirage Veil again, but the cooldown was longer than the mission itself. No illusions to hide behind. That meant every step had to be perfect, every movement calculated. He adjusted his grip slightly, shifting her closer, keeping her weight balanced, feet finding traction on the slick, glimmering surface.
Her arms tightened around his neck, each heartbeat syncing subtly with his own. He swallowed the heat of it, forcing his mind back to the chase. Eyes forward, stride steady, focus on the path—just keep running.
[Time Remaining: 06:45]...
A lantern, frame splintered and spikes jutting like angry teeth, came hurtling down from above. Akira barely had time to react before Pulse Shield flared—deflecting it with a hiss into the canal. The reflection shattered like ice, sending koi scattering in all directions.
Tsukiko's hair brushed against his cheek with every stride, soft and clean-sweet, and he nearly forgot he was supposed to be running for his life. Her breath came in shallow bursts, syncing perfectly with his steps. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus—but the little voice in his head kept whispering,
"How is she this cute while I'm holding her like this?!"
[Time Remaining: 05:32]...
Ahead, a narrow glass bridge stretched over a chasm that seemed to lead nowhere. Wet, slick, and completely unforgiving. Akira shifted, adjusting his grip so she rested securely against him. Tsukiko trembled—maybe from fear, maybe from the wind, maybe from being pressed so firmly into his chest. Either way, his brain nearly short-circuited.
"Just… keep holding on!" he muttered, more to himself than her. His legs coiled with Keeper Stride, surging forward in a burst of speed that left tingling sparks in his calves. The bond between them pulsed—real, undeniable, and… inconveniently distracting.
Behind them, claws scraped cobblestone. Sparks bit the air. The hunters were gaining ground, but Akira could only think about one thing: keeping her safe—and trying not to trip while her chest pressed uncomfortably close.
[Time Remaining: 04:58]...
The alley twisted once more, and the roar of pursuit seemed to fold in on itself. Razor-edged charms spun in a blinding cyclone, sparks of dark energy ricocheting off the walls. Akira dashed, Pulse Shield thrumming against his back, Mirage Veil still cooling like a stubborn ember in his mind, legs burning with every stride. The interface beeped softly, the translucent UI hovering in his peripheral vision: small progress bars creeping forward, timers ticking like a death march—but the final stretch promised to be far worse.
Somehow, Akira kept running. Every heartbeat felt stretched, every second an eternity. He could feel the market's warped heartbeat beneath his feet: cobblestones that bent, lanterns that tilted unnaturally, alleyways curling into themselves like twisted origami. Streets folded over like paper cranes, floating bridges appeared and vanished in the corner of his eye, mirrors reflecting paths they never chose. It was as if he was sprinting through the fractured memories of another world, and every choice mattered—but none of them led straight.
[Time Remaining: 04:12]...
"Just hang in there!" Akira hissed, teeth clenched, jaw aching from tension. His arms tightened protectively around the girl, her weight deceptively light but unsteady in his hold. She shivered faintly against him, and he could hear the soft rasp of her breath, shallow, uneven. Lanterns streaked past in fiery trails of red and gold, the world reduced to a blur of color and motion, his pulse louder than his pounding footsteps.
[Time Remaining: 03:47]...
A distant, guttural roar tore through the night—inhuman, primal, and merciless. The hunters were relentless. Above, talons scraped on rooftops, and the echoes sent shivers crawling down his spine.
[Time Remaining: 03:18]...
Akira veered sharply into a narrow lane—and froze. Wrong. A dead end. Slick moss coated the stones, catching his foot; he stumbled, barely regaining his balance. Behind them, shadowy shapes spilled into the street like smoke, eyes glinting crimson and ravenous. They moved with terrifying coordination, merging and splitting like liquid shadows hungry for flesh.
[Time Remaining: 02:45]...
"This way… I think. No, I hope this way," he muttered, voice ragged.
His heart hammered, lungs screaming. Tsukiko stirred faintly, eyelids fluttering as she murmured something he couldn't catch. She clung to him instinctively, the tiniest pressure against his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his legs forward.
[Time Remaining: 01:58]...
The lanterns dimmed as if the world itself was holding its breath. The path they'd run vanished—erased like ink bleeding in water. Akira's hand brushed against a wall that rippled like liquid glass. For a moment, his stomach dropped; the market wasn't just chaotic—it was alive, shifting, testing them.
[Time Remaining: 01:27]...
A shadow lunged from above—slam! A claw scraped the stones mere inches from his feet. He stumbled but caught himself, teeth gritted, eyes snapping forward. He couldn't afford to look back. Not now.
[Time Remaining: 01:02]...
Legs burning, knees trembling, Akira's breaths came in ragged gasps. Every corner felt like a trap, every street a snare. "They're closing in," he gasped, voice raw. "Come on, legs. Just a little more."
[Time Remaining: 00:46]...
A sharp whistle split the air. Akira ducked instinctively as a dart shot past his ear, embedding in a wooden sign with a dull thunk. Sparks of fear surged, his hands tightening around Tsukiko.
[Time Remaining: 00:24]...
He burst into another alley—only to freeze. Dead end. Tall, smooth, impossible to scale. No crates, no ladders, no escape. His breath caught in his throat.
"This can't be it," he whispered, disbelief choking his words.
Tsukiko shifted faintly, curling her fingers against his collar—a tiny, unconscious gesture of trust that made his chest tighten.
[Time Remaining: 00:13]...
Claws scraped closer. Louder. Faster. Shadows pooled at the alley's mouth, writhing and coalescing.
[Time Remaining: 00:10]...
Akira spun, heart hammering, the world reduced to sound and motion. One form stepped forward—a towering hunter in bone-like armor, curved blade gleaming with cruel intent.
[Time Remaining: 00:06]...
A blur. A flash. He didn't have time to think.
[Time Remaining: 00:03]...
The hunter hurled its weapon—straight at them.
[Time Remaining: 00:02]...
Akira's mind snapped into action.
Pulse Shield! Now!
But the SigilBound flared across his vision—
[Skill Activation Failed: Insufficient MP]
His breath caught. Shit. The blade was already mid-flight, hissing through the air toward them.
[Time Remaining: 00:01]...
There was no time—no defense—only the sharp inevitability of steel about to cleave through flesh.
[Time Remaining: 00:00]...
A sudden surge pulsed from the SigilBound itself, independent of his will. The brick wall behind him split with golden and blue kanji, bursting alive as if ancient seals had been torn open. Energy rippled outward in concentric waves, shaking the narrow alley.
A portal bloomed—shimmering, beckoning.
No time to hesitate. Akira clutched Tsukiko tighter and lunged, throwing himself through the veil just as the hunter's blade tore into the air where they had been. The world bent, twisted—then swallowed them whole.
FLASH.
Light overwhelmed him. Thunder echoed deep beneath the waves.
Then—
Silence.
Weightlessness.
And finally, a breath of peace.
They hit the asphalt hard.
The impact drove the breath from Akira's lungs with a sharp, guttural gasp. His vision flared white for a split second, the world spinning as the cold bite of pavement pressed into his back.
For a moment, time itself felt like it had stopped.
No pounding footsteps in pursuit.
No twisted, shifting alleyways.
No surreal market stalls vanishing into mist.
Only the soft, almost eerie hum of the streetlights above…
…the faint neon glow bleeding from distant convenience store signs…
…and the low, steady drone of late-night traffic somewhere far away.
The smell of damp asphalt, cold steel, and fallen autumn leaves filled his lungs.
He blinked up at the sight of power lines crisscrossing the night sky—Familiar. Real. Grounding.
Tatsumori Town.
Home.
A shaky laugh escaped his throat. He had actually made it back.
{{{SIGILBOUND}}}
[Mission: "Protect the Azure Dragon Princess" Completed]
Reward:
+3500 EXP
+400 Crysts
Items Dropped:
Plain Katana x1
Dewdraft ×2
Spiritwell Elixir x1
Morning Dewdrop ×3
Moonleaf Sprig ×2
[Level Up!!]
He barely had time to register the shimmering interface in front of him—the rewards, the strange items, even the surge of new strength flooding his body—before reality tugged him back.
Something warm shifted against him.
Akira's gaze snapped downward—
—and froze.
The girl lay half-slumped against his chest, her slender frame curled in a way that made her seem fragile enough to shatter if he let go. Her turquoise hair spilled across the blacktop like liquid starlight, strands catching and scattering the streetlamp's glow. Her tail—scaled with a faint iridescence—wrapped protectively around her legs.
Her kimono, torn from the frantic escape, clung in uneven folds to her form. The right sleeve hung dangerously loose, slipping down her arm to reveal the elegant slope of her bare shoulder, marred by streaks of fresh crimson. Her left knee was bloodied, a trail of red cutting down her pale skin to her shin.
His breath caught—not from fear, but from… her.
She was beautiful in a way that didn't feel fair—so much so that it made warmth bloom inside him, like he was carrying a secret blessing. Not just the symmetrical perfection of her face or the otherworldly gleam in her sapphire eyes when they had met his earlier, but something more primal.
The kind of beauty that made strangers instinctively step aside. The kind of beauty that should have sent him scurrying out of her way, avoiding trouble like everyone else in this world now did.
And yet… here he was. Still holding her. Still unable to move.
Her breathing was shallow. Each faint rise and fall of her chest pressed softly against him, making him aware of every curve beneath the thin, rumpled fabric. Her scent—warm, faintly sweet, threaded with something like moonlight and smoke—coiled around his senses.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled it out with trembling fingers.
Notification:
Ryujin Petalstorm 3 – Hirame Hawks 1.
Ryujin Petalstorm advances to semi-finals on aggregate (4-2).
A hollow chuckle escaped him.
"Hah…Haha.. they won," he wheezed. "Not that I… even got to watch…"
He tilted his head up. The moon gazed back—pale, calm, the same as it had always been. But nothing else was the same.
A faint sound pulled his attention back to her.
She stirred, eyelids fluttering open just enough for him to see a haze of deep blue.
"You… really saved me…" she whispered, voice so soft it almost melted into the night.
Her eyes lingered on him for a breath longer—then closed again.
Akira swallowed hard. He really looked at her now. The delicate angle of her jaw. The faint flush across her cheeks. The glint of crystal horns curling from her temples. His gaze drifted lower—and instantly regretted it.
In adjusting his grip earlier, he'd accidentally pulled her kimono tighter across her chest. The neckline had slipped just enough for a dangerous sliver of skin to peek through—smooth, pale, and impossibly soft-looking.
His face heated instantly.
"Shit—uh—sorry—!" he muttered, trying to loosen his hold… and somehow making the fabric shift lower.
Bad idea.
Her chest pressed fully against him now, the warmth and softness burning through the thin layers of clothing like a brand. He could feel everything—the faint thud of her heartbeat, the curve of her hip against his side, the delicate line of her waist beneath his arm.
He tried to breathe. Failed. he tried again.
Her tail shifted slightly, brushing along his thigh. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make his muscles twitch.
Somewhere far above, a figure lingered on the edge of a rooftop—slender, feline in posture. Golden eyes glinted once in the dark, unblinking, before the night swallowed them whole.
Below, unaware of the gaze upon him, Akira adjusted his hold on Tsukiko's weight, her warmth a steady reminder against his chest. The rush of battle had faded, leaving only the quiet rhythm of his footsteps as he turned toward home.
The street lay empty, the air heavy with the scent of rain yet to fall. One step at a time, he carried her through the sleeping town, the shadow following in silence.
"Guess you'll be my guest tonight," he murmured, a faint, tired smile tugging at his lips.
=============== End of Chapter 5 ===============