The theater was silent.
Ash floated through the air like snow, settling on empty seats and shattered screens. The scent of scorched flesh and ozone lingered, thick and suffocating.
Shinomiya stood in the center of it all, unmoving.
Her eyes were locked on the spot where Shigen had vanished.
Her hands trembled.
Her breath was shallow.
But she didn't cry.
Not yet.
Beside her, Azael knelt on the ground, her claws digging into the carpet, her body shaking. Her eyes were wide, her pupils slitted, her aura unstable.
She had seen hell.
And it had taken her human.
Shoto, who had just snapped back into motion, stared at the carnage around him. His fists clenched. His jaw tightened.
"What… the hell just happened?"
No one answered.
Because no one could.
---
The Fallout
They returned to the hotel in silence.
No jokes.
No teasing.
No warmth.
Shinomiya locked herself in her room.
Azael sat by the window, staring at the moon, whispering Shigen's name like a prayer.
Shoto paced the hallway, fists still clenched, muttering curses under his breath.
Then he stopped.
Turned.
And punched the wall.
Hard.
"Damn it!" he shouted. "He just left! He didn't even fight!"
Azael didn't look at him. "He did fight."
Shoto glared. "He gave up."
"No," she said softly. "He chose."
Shoto's voice cracked. "He chose them over us."
Azael turned, her eyes glowing faintly red. "He chose us. That's why he went."
Shoto didn't respond.
Because deep down, he knew she was right.
---
The Captain's Grief
In her room, Shinomiya sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the towel Shigen had worn the night before.
It still smelled like him.
Still held his warmth.
She clutched it to her chest, her breath hitching.
And finally—
She cried.
Not like a soldier.
Not like a captain.
But like a woman who had just lost the man who made her feel alive.
---
The Resolve
The next morning, Shinomiya emerged.
Her uniform was pristine.
Her eyes were sharp.
Her aura was cold.
But something had changed.
She gathered Shoto and Azael in the lobby.
"We're going to hell," she said.
Shoto blinked. "Wait, what?"
Azael stood. "You're serious."
Shinomiya nodded. "I'm not losing him. Not again."
Shoto grinned. "Finally."
Azael's claws shimmered. "Let's burn the underworld."
Shinomiya's eyes glowed faintly blue.
"Pack your things."
The hotel lobby was quiet.
Too quiet.
Shinomiya stood at the center, flanked by Shoto and Azael, her voice still echoing in the air: "Pack your things."
Then—
Boom.
The glass doors shattered inward, not from force—but from pressure. A wave of heat and authority swept through the room like a tidal wave.
Seven figures entered.
Each one a Captain.
And at their center, cloaked in robes of living flame, stood Charlotte NC, the Mythic-rank Fire Cultivator and President of the Hunter Association.
Her golden eyes locked onto Shinomiya.
She didn't speak.
She simply raised a hand.
And in a blink, her fingers wrapped around Shinomiya's neck.
Not choking.
Just holding.
But the weight of it was unbearable.
"Where," Charlotte said softly, "do you think you're going?"
Shinomiya didn't flinch. "To get him back."
"You didn't report this. You didn't request clearance. You didn't even ask."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"If not for our surveillance threads, we wouldn't have known. You were going to vanish."
Shinomiya's jaw clenched. "You would've said no."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed. "You're right."
---
The Brother's Threat
Ken Kanaki stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
He didn't raise his voice.
Didn't posture.
He simply looked at his sister and said, "If you move again, I'll break your legs."
Shoto's eyes widened. "What the hell—"
Ken didn't look at him.
Only at her.
"It's better to have a crippled sister who hates me," he said, "than to have no sister at all."
Shinomiya's breath caught.
Because she knew.
He meant it.
She had been like that once—cold, reckless, ready to die for a cause.
Until Shigen.
He had pulled her back from that edge.
And now, she was standing on it again.
---
The Silence
The room held its breath.
Azael's claws twitched.
Shoto's fists clenched.
Shinomiya stared at her brother.
Then at Charlotte.
Then down at her own hands.
She was shaking.
Not from fear.
From fury.
From grief.
From love.
But she didn't move.
Not yet.
Because she knew—this wasn't a battle she could win.
Not today.
Not like this.
Charlotte released her grip on Shinomiya's neck.
The captain stumbled back a step, catching her breath, but didn't retaliate. Not out of fear—but because she knew Charlotte wasn't finished.
The Mythic-rank Fire Cultivator turned, her robes flickering with embers, and sat calmly on the edge of the hotel bed. The mattress hissed beneath her heat.
The other captains turned to face her, instinctively falling into formation.
She didn't speak right away.
She didn't need to.
Then, finally—
"It's not about the boy," Charlotte said, her voice low. "I don't care about him."
Shinomiya's fists clenched.
Charlotte continued. "But the devil doesn't abduct just anybody. And Keziah already has a body. So that rules out the vessel theory."
She looked up, eyes glowing gold.
"That leaves one possibility."
The room tensed.
"He's the key. To killing Keziah. And the devil wants to destroy that key before it unlocks the end."
Silence.
Heavy. Absolute.
Then—
Azael stepped forward.
Her voice was calm. But her eyes burned.
"It's true."
All eyes turned to her.
"As of now," she said, "he has the potential to surpass even you, President."
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Bold claim."
"It's not a claim," Azael said. "It's a fact. His growth is… unnatural. Unstoppable. Like something in him refuses to stop evolving."
She placed a hand over her heart.
"That's why I made an Oath with him. A blood pact. So that even if death comes, it won't be a barrier."
The captains murmured.
Charlotte's gaze sharpened. "You bound your soul to his?"
Azael nodded. "Willingly."
Charlotte leaned back, folding her arms.
"Well then," she said. "Now I do care."
She looked at Shinomiya.
"You're not going to hell."
Shinomiya's eyes narrowed.
Charlotte smirked.
"We are."
And....
[End of chapter 11]