The vast, sprawling hall was alive with the presence of countless demons and half-demons, their towering figures casting long shadows across the cavernous space.
The air was thick with anticipation and a faint hum of magic.
Some demons had horns curling from their foreheads, others bore wings that shimmered with iridescent light.
Among them, human-half demons moved with an air of confidence—cloaked in armor or elegant robes, their eyes sharp and calculating.
At the center of it all was a raised stage, carved from dark stone, with intricate runes etched along its edges.
Standing there was a figure speaking passionately, a commanding presence that held everyone's attention.
"This journey we are about to undertake—something like the Yokoshima Tunnel—is not for the faint of heart," the speaker announced, voice echoing through the hall.
"We have reports of numerous Shinryu Beasts—creatures fierce and uncontrollable, beasts that refuse to bow to any ruler. They are dangerous, vicious, and unpredictable. Our mission involves the A-Class Rankers and SS-Class Rankers, who will be heading on a different route to deal with the threat."
He paused, glancing at the crowd, who looked around with a mix of curiosity and tension.
Demons shifted in their seats, some whispering to one another, eyes narrowing in anticipation.
Suddenly, a figure stepped forward from the shadows—a girl with an aura that commanded attention.
Her hair was a stunning cascade of flowing pink and purple locks, styled in a non-extravagant yet undeniably cool way: a sleek, asymmetrical bob with a single long strand that draped over her face, framing her sharp, violet eyes.
Her hairstyle was simple but carried a sense of effortless elegance—like a blade honed to perfection.
She wore a dark, form-fitting uniform accented with purple and pink motifs, her posture confident yet calm.
She ascended the stage, her presence instantly drawing all eyes.
"I am Takara Ayame," she announced softly but with authority. "I will be leading the team responsible for the Yokoshima Tunnel expedition."
A tall, brooding demon with piercing eyes and a sneer of disdain immediately stepped forward.
His name was Kurojin, a fierce, cool-headed fighter known for his ruthless tactics and sharp tongue. His arms were crossed, and he looked at Ayame with a hint of protest.
"Leader, huh?" Kurojin drawled, voice cold. "Are you sure you're cut out for this? No offense, but I've seen leaders crash and burn when they bite off more than they can chew."
A faint smile touched Ayame's lips, calm and unruffled. "Kurojin, your reputation precedes you. But your attitude won't earn you a place at the top. Trust in my judgment, or step aside."
Kurojin's eyes flickered with a mixture of respect and challenge, but he said nothing further.
The hall grew quiet again as Ayame turned to face the crowd, her gaze steady and resolute.
"We proceed with caution," she said softly. "The Yokoshima Tunnel is treacherous, but with our strength and unity, we will succeed."
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, a blend of respect and tension, as the demons and half-demons prepared for the dangerous mission ahead.
The murmurs grew louder as Takara Ayame gracefully stepped down from the stage, her violet eyes calm but commanding.
Her heels clicked softly against the stone floor as she made her way to the center of the gathering.
The hall's massive chandeliers shimmered with magical light, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the demon audience—some towering with horns curling like twisted branches, others ethereal with glowing wings, and a few more human-like but pulsating with latent power.
She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, then spoke clearly, her voice resonating through the hall.
"We only need six people—three from the SS- Rankers, and three from the A-Rankers. That's all."
A ripple of anticipation ran through the crowd. A seasoned demon with scarred armor, sitting near the front, raised his hand.
"What about the Bk Class and CM? Are they not needed?" he asked, voice gruff but respectful.
Ayame's expression remained composed. She took a step forward, her tone measured.
"They will only be needed to guard us. They cannot fight effectively in this mission—they're too weak for the Yokoshima Tunnel's dangers. Their role is protection, not combat."
From the back, a sharp voice cut in, "And who will you choose, then?"
She turned her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips.
"I will select only one from each class," she replied. "One from the Bk Class and one from the CM Class—those who show the most promise and reliability. I trust that each of you will understand the importance of this selection."
The crowd murmured softly, some nodding in agreement, others exchanging uneasy glances.
At that moment, the stage's edge shimmered and the Mr. Yamaguchi—a towering, imposing figure clad in dark robes with glowing runes—descended gracefully, his presence commanding silence.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he stepped off the stage, leaving Ayame to stand alone.
"You will need to select four others to accompany you," the teacher's voice echoed, deep and resonant. "This is not a task for one person alone. The fate of the mission depends on your choices."
''Anyone that volunteers will Have to get their names signed incase something happened to them''
''In the mean Time I will go to the rest of the classes.'' Ayame continued.
The hall was vast—walls carved from dark stone, etched with ancient symbols and glowing runes that hummed softly with energy.
Suspended from the ceiling were enchanted lanterns, illuminating the space with an eerie, yet beautiful glow. T
he air was thick with magic and the scent of burning incense, mixed with a faint metallic tang of anticipation.
--
The room lay submerged in shadow, broken only by the low, amber flicker of ancient lanterns suspended from the ceiling. Dust motes drifted lazily through the air, as if even time itself hesitated to move.
Mr. Yamaguchi sat behind his desk, posture straight, hands folded neatly before him. His presence was calm—yet heavy, the kind that pressed down on the room without effort.
Across from him, Ayame sat with perfect composure. Her back rested lightly against the chair, legs crossed, posture relaxed yet deliberate. Long strands of deep violet hair spilled over her shoulders, catching faint light with every subtle movement. Her expression was serene, but her eyes—sharp and watchful—missed nothing.
Against the far wall, Kurojin leaned with his arms crossed, one foot propped against the wood. His gaze was narrow, assessing, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips.
Yamaguchi reached forward and slid a sealed folder across the desk.
"This," he said evenly, "contains the files for the Bk Class and CM Class. Review them carefully. The choices you make will determine the future balance."
Ayame extended two fingers, stopping the folder's momentum with effortless precision. She broke the seal and opened it, flipping through the pages without hurry.
Photos. Stats. Psychological evaluations.
Her gaze slowed.
Tsuramo.
Red hair like burning embers. Eyes sharp, crimson, and unyielding.
She tilted her head slightly, interest flickering across her face.
"…Hmm," she murmured. "Tsuramo."
Kurojin clicked his tongue, pushing off the wall just enough to make his presence felt."CM Class," he said mockingly. "Kid's got power but no restraint. A walking disaster. Dangerous, sure—but useless."
Ayame didn't look at him. Her eyes traced the report one last time before she closed the folder halfway.
"Dangerous," she echoed softly. "Or unpolished?"
Kurojin snorted. "Call it whatever you want. In a real fight, lack of control gets you killed."
Ayame finally lifted her gaze.
Her violet eyes locked onto Yamaguchi—not Kurojin.
"Control can be taught," she said calmly. "Instinct cannot."
A brief silence settled.
Then she spoke again—quietly, unmistakably.
"Let me be clear. I am not unfamiliar with chaos."
Kurojin's brow twitched.
"I manipulate shadows. I bend darkness itself—shape it, sharpen it. I strike where my enemy cannot see, with precision capable of leveling mountains. I have defeated foes stronger than me, faster than me, and far more numerous than me."
Her hand rested flat atop the folder.
"I am not merely a presence in the dark," she continued, voice unwavering."I am the darkness."
The lantern flame flickered.
Kurojin straightened, irritation flashing across his face. "Big words. But power means nothing if you can't tell when you're being tested. All that confidence—sounds like overcompensation to me."
Ayame turned to him slowly.
A small smile touched her lips—cool, controlled, and sharp.
"Careful, Kurojin," she said. "Darkness doesn't announce itself before it devours you."
The smirk vanished from his face.
She turned back to Yamaguchi.
"As for Bk Class," she said, tone decisive, "there is no debate. Kijin."
Yamaguchi raised an eyebrow. "Despite his defiance?"
"Because of it," Ayame replied. "He breaks rules—but not purpose. He knows when to strike and when to stop. Strength without restraint is dangerous. Strength with awareness is lethal."
Yamaguchi leaned back slightly, studying her.
"And the others?"
Ayame rose smoothly from her chair. Her hair flowed behind her like a living shadow.
"Everyone has a role," she said. "Leadership is not domination. It is understanding—your enemy, your allies, and yourself."
She paused beside Kurojin.
Her eyes met his—cold, unreadable.
No smile.
No threat.
Just certainty.
Then she turned and walked toward the door, heels echoing softly against the polished floor.
The door slid shut behind her.
Silence returned.
Kurojin exhaled slowly, a reluctant smirk creeping back."…Tch. What a woman."
Yamaguchi's gaze lingered on the closed door.
"She's fierce," he murmured. "Just like her father."
The lanterns flickered once more.
And the room remained still.