The Shibuya Grand Assembly Hall was a fortress of glass and steel, towering above the city like a blade pointed at the sky. Inside, the air was thick with power—raw, cultivated, and barely restrained.
Fifty of the strongest Hunters in the Eastern Hemisphere had gathered. Captains. Vice Captains. Strategists. Monsters in human skin.
And at the head of it all, seated on a raised obsidian dais, was Charlotte NC—President of the Global Hunter Association.
She sat with her legs crossed, posture regal, her crimson robes flickering with embers that never died. Her eyes, molten gold, scanned the room with quiet authority. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her presence alone kept the room from erupting.
She was a Mythic-rank Fire Cultivator—one of only three in the world. The other two were legends. One was missing. The other… dead.
---
The Gathering Storm
The room buzzed with tension.
Not just because of Keziah's return.
Not just because of the whispers of the Ninth Gate.
But because of what was coming next:
The Hunters Tournament.
The proving ground. The crucible. The place where stars were forged—or broken.
And this year, it would be different.
This year, the stakes were higher.
This year, the world was watching.
---
The Captains
Each sector's top brass had arrived. Some stood in tight clusters, whispering. Others leaned against walls, arms crossed, sizing each other up like predators in a cage.
A few traded barbs.
"Still wearing that ridiculous coat, Captain Jin?" one sneered. "Trying to hide the fact you haven't ranked up in five years?"
"At least I don't need a new face every tournament to stay relevant," Jin shot back, smirking.
Laughter rippled through the room.
Others were more playful.
"Bet you ten million yen my vice makes top five," one captain grinned.
"Ten million? You're on. But only if your boy survives the qualifiers this time."
In the corner, Captain Ryu stood silent, arms folded, eyes closed. He didn't engage. He didn't need to. His presence alone was enough to keep challengers at bay.
Beside him, Ken Kanaki leaned toward his sister.
"Shinomiya-chan," he whispered, eyes soft. "You look tired. Are you eating enough? Sleeping well?"
She sighed. "Ken…"
"I missed you," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her shoulder. "You never call. You never visit. I had to volunteer for a cross-border mission just to see you."
"I'm busy," she replied, voice cool but not cold.
He pouted. "You used to braid my hair, remember?"
She glanced at him. "You were six."
"And you were the best big sister ever."
She gave a small, reluctant smile. "Still am."
---
The Flame Speaks
The room quieted as Charlotte NC rose to her feet.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
She simply cleared her throat.
And the room fell silent.
"Captains. Vice Captains. Hunters," she said, her voice smooth and commanding, like fire wrapped in silk. "You know why you're here."
A flick of her wrist, and a holographic map of the world flared to life behind her—red dots pulsing across it like open wounds.
"The Black Vatrint are moving. Keziah has returned. And the Ninth Gate is stirring."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed. "But I know what you're really worried about."
The map shifted—now showing a massive arena, surrounded by roaring crowds.
"The Tournament."
She let the image hang in the air.
"This year, the world will be watching. And if we don't control the narrative, the Vatrint will."
She stepped down from the dais, walking slowly between the rows of Hunters.
"We need strength. We need unity. And we need stars."
Her gaze landed on Shinomiya.
"The kind of stars who burn bright enough to blind the darkness."
Shinomiya stood straighter, saying nothing.
Charlotte turned back to the room.
"Prepare your best. Train your fiercest. Because when the flames rise… only the worthy will remain."
After the meeting, the captains began registering their participants for the upcoming Hunters Tournament—two per sector. The room buzzed with energy, names being scribbled, bets whispered, reputations weighed.
Shinomiya stood near the registry terminal, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She hadn't filled her second slot.
Her first pick was obvious.
But the second?
She considered her own name for a moment. She was eligible. She was deadly. But something about that felt… wrong.
Then she caught a scent.
Faint. Familiar.
Him.
She turned just as a calm hand tapped her shoulder.
"Yo," Shigen said.
And was immediately impaled.
A dozen jagged ice spikes burst from the ground, piercing through his torso, chest, and shoulder. The room gasped. Blood sprayed across the marble floor.
But Shigen didn't flinch.
He looked down at the spikes protruding from his body, sighed, and then—
Melted.
The ice hissed and evaporated as his body reformed, flawless and whole. His shirt, however, was ruined—torn open, revealing the full glory of his immortal form.
He stood tall—190 cm of sculpted divinity, muscles rippling like carved marble, his skin glowing faintly under the hall's lights. His crimson eyes locked onto the source of the attack.
Ken Kanaki.
Shorter. Leaner. But no less dangerous. His white coat fluttered behind him, and his breath steamed in the air around him. His eyes were cold. Furious.
"Stay away from my sister," Ken said, stepping forward. "You're not human anymore. You're a threat. I'll break you before you break her."
Shigen tilted his head, voice low and calm. "Try it."
Ken's aura flared, frost spreading across the floor.
Shigen's eyes glowed white.
"I'll kill you."
The room tensed. Several captains turned, sensing the spike in pressure. Ice and flame crackled in the air, the temperature dropping and rising in violent waves.
Then—
"Enough."
Shinomiya stepped between them, her hand on each of their chests.
"Ken," she said, her voice sharp. "Stand down."
Ken's jaw clenched. "You're defending him?"
"I'm stopping you from making a mistake."
Shigen's gaze didn't waver. "Tell your brother to aim for the head next time."
Ken scoffed. "Next time, I won't miss."
Shinomiya turned to Shigen, her voice low. "Don't provoke him."
"He started it."
"You're not helping."
Shigen looked away, the glow in his eyes fading. "Fine."
Ken stepped back, but not before muttering, "I'll be watching you, monster."
Shigen didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
His presence alone was louder than any threat.
---
As the tension settled and the registry finalized, Shinomiya finally entered the names:
- Shigen — Immortal Flame.
- Azael — Bloodbound Demon.
The room took notice.
Whispers spread.
The tournament had its wildcards.
And the world would be watching.
The frost had barely faded from the air when Shigen stepped forward again—this time with no tension, no fire, no words.
Just a quiet motion.
He slipped behind Shinomiya, his arms wrapping gently around her waist in a calm, unhurried hug. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, his presence warm and still.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't push him away.
There was something unspoken in the way she leaned back into him—just slightly. A closeness that didn't need explaining.
She turned her head, her voice soft. "Why are you here?"
Shigen's voice was low, steady. "We were bored."
"We?"
He nodded toward the entrance.
Shoto and Azael strolled in like they owned the place.
Shoto looked annoyed. Azael looked radiant and smug.
"We figured we'd keep you company," Shigen said. "Seven days is a long time to be surrounded by suits and egos."
Azael's eyes narrowed as she spotted the hug. "Excuse me," she said, her voice sharp. "Why is my human touching someone else?"
Shigen didn't respond.
Neither did Shinomiya.
They both ignored her.
Azael blinked. "Rude."
Shoto, meanwhile, was fuming. His jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides.
He stormed up to the group, glaring at Shinomiya. "You picked her over me?"
Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "She's stronger."
"She's a demon!"
"She's also not whining."
Azael smirked. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, little rock."
Shoto turned to her, eyes blazing. "Spar me. Right now."
Azael's grin widened. "Oh? You want to dance?"
"I want to crush you."
"Adorable."
They squared off instantly, tension crackling between them like a lit fuse.
And off to the side, Ken Kanaki stood with his arms folded, watching the scene unfold.
His expression was calm.
His aura was not.
Frost curled around his boots, the air around him shimmering with suppressed rage.
He said nothing.
But his eyes never left Shigen.
The hotel was quiet, but tension still lingered in the air like smoke after a battlefield.
Shoto and Azael stood outside their room, glaring at the door like it had personally offended them.
"You snore, don't you," Azael muttered.
"Only when I'm near demons," Shoto snapped.
"Then I'll be sure to hum lullabies while you cry yourself to sleep."
"Touch me and I'll bury you in the mattress."
"Promises, promises."
The door slammed shut behind them.
---
Room 407 – Shigen & Shinomiya
Steam curled from the bathroom as Shigen stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, hair damp and tousled. His skin glowed faintly in the dim light, the immortal sheen catching the moonlight through the window.
He dropped onto the bed with a sigh, arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded.
The door creaked open.
Shinomiya stepped in, dressed in soft, pale-blue pajamas. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders like silver silk. She paused mid-step.
Her eyes landed on him.
Then on the towel.
Then she blushed.
"C-Can you… put something on?" she said, averting her gaze.
Shigen didn't move. "You've seen me naked more times than I can count."
Her blush deepened. "That was different."
"Was it?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then turned away, muttering something about "idiots with abs."
Shigen smirked faintly.
---
Flashback – Seven Years Ago
The streets were cold that night. Snow fell in lazy spirals, blanketing the alleyways of northern Osaka. Most people had gone home. Most people had warmth.
But not him.
A boy—barefoot, shirtless, eyes glowing faintly red—stood in the snow, surrounded by the charred remains of three low-tier demons. His breath steamed in the air. His fists were scorched. His body bruised.
But he stood.
No scrolls. No gear. No training.
Just raw power.
And beauty.
Lieutenant Shinomiya, then a rising B-rank Ice Cultivator, had been on patrol when she found him.
She froze.
Not from the cold.
But from the sight of him.
He looked… divine. Wild. Dangerous.
And yet, when he turned to her, his eyes were calm. Empty. Like he didn't know what he was. Or why he was alive.
She didn't ask questions.
She just took off her coat, wrapped it around him, and said, "Come with me."
He didn't resist.
She fed him. Clothed him. Gave him a name.
And from that moment on, he followed her like a shadow.
She never admitted it aloud, but in her heart, she knew:
She hadn't saved him.
He had saved her.
---
Back to the Present
Shinomiya sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him.
"You've changed," she said softly.
Shigen looked at the ceiling. "So have you."
She glanced over her shoulder. "You were just a kid."
"You were the first person who didn't look at me like a weapon."
She smiled faintly. "You were beautiful. Still are. That's what scared me."
He turned his head toward her. "Why?"
"Because I knew," she said. "The world would try to take you from me."
He didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The silence between them said enough.
[End of chapter 9]