The Berserker's body twitched. Its molten core pulsed again — deep, furious, alive.
Tetsuro froze.
Shojiro's breath caught.
Then the demon moved.
Its gaze snapped sideways — not toward them, but toward the street behind.
There — a mother and her young son.
The boy was crying, clutching his mother's hand as they sprinted toward the underground shelter entrance.
Shojiro's heart stopped when he saw the boy's face.
It was him.
The same kid who'd asked for his autograph just a day ago.
The Berserker let out a guttural roar and began to charge. The ground quaked beneath each step.
Shojiro ran.
He was fast — but not fast enough.
The demon's claw rose, black and steaming, ready to tear through both of them in one swing—
CRASH!
Tetsuro Momo blurred in from the side, tackling the demon's arm mid-swing. The impact was like metal slamming into metal. The entire street trembled.
The strike was stopped — but not cleanly.
Blood burst from Tetsuro's mouth as his ribs collapsed inward. His spine twisted from the force, yet he didn't fall. He held the blow, gritting his teeth, veins bulging against the impossible pressure.
Shojiro's eyes went wide.
"Dad—!"
Tetsuro roared over the chaos, his voice raw but steady.
"Take them! Get them below—NOW!"
Shojiro hesitated — one second too long — watching his father's body quake against the demon's arm, holding it back by sheer will.
Tetsuro shouted again, louder this time, fury shaking his words.
"MOVE, SHOJIRO!"
That snapped him out of it.
Shojiro turned, sprinting toward the mother and child, ushering them toward the open shelter hatch. The mother stumbled; he caught her, shoved her down the stairs, pushed the kid in after her.
He glanced back just once —
—and saw his father driving his knee into the Berserker's side, still fighting despite the tremors wracking his body.
Every blow Tetsuro threw now looked painful — but he refused to fall.
Shojiro's hands clenched. His knuckles bled.
"I'll come back for you," he whispered.
Shojiro's lungs burned as he barreled down the stairway leading to the underground shelter, the boy clinging tightly to his side, the mother stumbling just behind. The city above was a nightmare of fire, smoke, and chaos, but below, the concrete stairwell offered a narrow thread of hope.
But hope was fragile.
From the shadows of the stairwell, small demons scuttled like insects, their jagged claws scraping the concrete. Screeches and guttural growls echoed in the confined space, sending sparks of panic through the civilians.
One lunged at the boy, its tiny fangs glinting in the dim emergency lighting. Time slowed.
Shojiro's instincts took over. He caught the creature mid-lunge, twisting it through the air, feeling the fragile snap of its bones under his grip. With a roar, he slammed it into the ground — the concrete beneath shattering as its skull and spine caved in with a wet, horrifying crunch.
The remaining demons screeched in alarm. Shojiro gripped the corpse and hurled it back down the stairwell, crushing two more as they swarmed toward him. One of them shrieked and turned on its fallen comrade, ripping it apart in a frenzy — a gruesome warning to the others.
"Keep moving! Don't stop!" Shojiro barked, hauling the boy and mother the last few steps to the shelter entrance.
The demons hesitated, caught between instinct and fear, buying precious seconds. Shojiro slammed the hatch closed behind them, the massive metal plate grinding into place with a deafening clang.
Inside, civilians scrambled, panic and relief mingling in their eyes. Shojiro pressed the boy and mother into the back of the crowd, catching his breath, blood and sweat dripping from his torn clothes and battered arms.
Through the metal hatch, he could still hear the chaos above — Tetsuro's commanding voice cutting through the cacophony, and somewhere beyond that, the telltale, massive thuds of the Berserker-class demon.
Shojiro's eyes hardened.
Father… hold on. I'm coming back.
The underground chamber was packed — over fifty people crushed shoulder to shoulder, faces pale under flickering emergency lights.
But the noise wasn't just fear.
It was anger.
"Someone has to seal the hatch!"
"If we don't close it, those creatures out there will kill us all!"
"You close it then!"
"I was here first—why should I die for you?"
The voices clashed, a rising storm of desperation. Then all eyes turned toward the new arrivals.
The mother froze.
Shojiro immediately sensed the tension.
A man near the front pointed at her — middle-aged, trembling, but loud enough to make the others listen.
"She's new. She came last. If anyone's staying out there, it's her!"
The mother shook her head, clutching her son to her chest.
"Please, I—I can't—my boy—"
A woman shouted from the back,
"Then your boy dies too if that hatch stays open!"
The crowd pressed closer, faces twisted by fear. Someone shoved the mother. Her son screamed.
That was it.
Shojiro stepped between them, his shadow falling over the mob. His presence alone silenced the room.
Every muscle in his body coiled, sweat still dripping from his temple, his knuckles raw and red.
He looked at the frightened faces — not with anger, but something colder. Disappointment.
Shojiro (quietly):
"You want someone to close it?"
No one answered.
He turned to the mother, resting a hand on her trembling shoulder.
"Take care of him. Keep your head down."
Then, to the crowd:
"I'll do it."
The room went dead silent.
He walked back toward the metal ladder, boots echoing. The boy's voice broke through the silence:
"Mister Shojiro… you'll come back, right?"
Shojiro paused, looking back over his shoulder. His face softened for a heartbeat.
"That's a promise, champ."
He climbed up without looking back. The mother tried to stop him, reaching out — but the hatch clanged shut before she could.
From above, his voice echoed faintly through the metal.
"Lock it tight. Don't open it for anyone — no matter what you hear."
A click of the latch.
Then silence.