The stairwell was cold — cold like the metal of a morgue drawer. Every step Dan took echoed between the floors like a funeral drumbeat. The smell of iron and ozone, thickened with the sting of dried blood, made the air almost solid.
Stella followed close behind, her eyes restless, one hand gripping the holster tight. Her mind kept trying — and failing — to escape the image of the piled corpses in the elevator.
— You holding up? — Dan asked without turning back.
— No… — she answered, voice steadier than the trembling in her eyes. — But I will.
The fourth floor opened before them like a sterile nightmare: glass offices, individual cubicles, computers still glowing as if the massacre had happened minutes ago. A trail of blood coiled toward the elevator — a grotesque signature on the scene.
Then the voice came.
Cold. Robotic. Everywhere at once.
— I wasn't expecting visitors...
Dan raised a hand, signaling silence.
— Who the hell are you?! — he shouted, instincts razor-sharp.
— In five seconds… I'll come out of the door at the end of the hall. Slowly. Hands up.
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. They aimed their weapons, breaths shallow.
The door opened.
What stepped out looked like something pulled from a nightmare — a man wrapped in a dark cloak, skin pale, expression empty, eyes that reflected nothing.
— Alright… I'll admit it — he said, with a smile that didn't belong on any human face. — I was expecting you.
He moved both hands in a gesture.
The lights flickered — and the world was devoured.
Darkness. Absolute.
Reality cracked.
Stella was dragged inward — into herself.
She wasn't there anymore. She was somewhere else… in a courtroom, surrounded by accusing voices. Familiar voices. The slam of a gavel. Blood on her fingers. Guilt. Screams.
"It's all your fault! It's all your fault! It's all your fault! It's all your fault! It's all your fault!"
— No… it wasn't my fault… IT WASN'T MY FAULT! — she cried, reliving every buried wound.
The stranger's voice echoed inside her head.
— The human mind… so fragile. Her pain tastes exquisite. Perfect nourishment for my demon.
He turned away, indifferent — until something made him freeze.
— What…?
A searing heat surged up his back.
— Burn, you bastard! — Dan roared, unleashing a torrent of blue fire that consumed everything except Stella.
The room became an hell. The air itself warped from the heat. But when the smoke cleared—
— Watch your back, kid.
The voice came from behind.
The strike hit Dan like a hammer, hurling him into the glass wall. Shards burst outward, blood splattering across the floor. The man laughed.
— Ah, fate has a sense of humor… putting me against you?
He stepped forward through the chaos.
— The damned demon of Hala Two-One… standing right in front of me.
You.
A name buried by every organization.
A failed experiment in genetic manipulation — designed to be the perfect weapon.
But he survived.
No control. No restraint.
He annihilated everything in his path.
A living reminder of failure — and fear.
— I'll clean up the doctor's mess by erasing you. The girl? She can rot back there.
— You wanna try? — Dan spat blood, his eyes burning with fury.
---
Elsewhere in the building…
Tekio faced hell itself.
The Umbrafeeder was a walking fortress. Every punch made the air quake; every step, a tremor through concrete.
Tekio watched. Calculated. Breathed.
Strength? Yeah, plenty. Technique? None. Just a brute driven by hunger.
The opening came. Tekio surged forward, pivoted, and seized the creature's arm.
Morote Seoi Nage.
A classic judo throw — lethal when reinforced by spiritual energy. He pulled the monster over his shoulder, channeling weight, gravity, and sheer spiritual pressure.
The ground cracked beneath the impact.
— I can… win.
But the demon rose again, roaring. Red veins replaced the black. Its eyes went feral. Its aura expanded — writhing, alive.
The next charge was too fast. Tekio barely reacted.
— Tch… — was all he managed before being slammed into the wall.
He's faster… adapting.
The fight devolved into pure brutality. The monster was all instinct and rage. The brawl lasted until one had to fall. Tekio dropped to his knees, gasping after a blow to the gut. More strikes. More blood.
But his mind refused to break.
A certain voice echoed in his head.
"We always start at a disadvantage. The difference between winning and dying… is understanding that."
— Demons live by their senses… — he muttered, slipping into the shadows to evade another punch.
"Because we lack overwhelming power, we study, we think. We stay one step ahead."
Moments later, he hurled a fire extinguisher.
The demon instinctively struck it.
Explosion.
Smoke. Confusion.
The demon was blind.
Tekio hid in the haze, steadying his breath.
"The spiritual current doesn't only flow outward — it can be restrained, condensed. When released all at once… it becomes an avalanche."
He gathered everything he had. Energy pulsed violently around him.
— Right here…
The demon charged, following the scent of blood. Tekio didn't move.
— Eat this, you bastard!
The strike landed with the sound of thunder. A torrent of energy crashed downward like a furious waterfall. The Umbrafeeder's body disintegrated, erased in its final scream.
Silence.
Heavy breaths.
Trembling body.
But his feet remained steady.
— Now… I need to find the others.
To Be Continued