The sky above the ruined city was the color of ash. Helicopter rotors thundered overhead as the rescue convoy descended on what remained of the Devil Hunter Corp headquarters—once a fortress of discipline, now a field hospital built from metal and willpower.
Yuto stepped down first, his charred katana strapped across his back. A faint golden glow still pulsed from the blade, flickering with his heartbeat. Behind him, Sousuke limped forward, lightning scars crawling up his arm like veins of silver. Akari and Tatsusuke followed, their clothes torn, their eyes hollow from days without rest.
Inside, medics rushed through rows of injured hunters. Machines hummed. The smell of antiseptic fought against the scent of burnt steel. Every sound felt heavy. Every movement carried the memory of the Prime 10 battle.
"Admit them—priority level A!" someone shouted.
Yuto didn't argue. He simply collapsed onto the nearest bed as the world tilted sideways. For a moment, he saw his sister's smile through the haze of exhaustion.
---
Hours passed. When consciousness returned, it came with the sound of footsteps—measured, deliberate, powerful.
Master Masauru, the commander of the Devil Hunter Corps, entered the infirmary. His presence alone silenced the room. A tall man wrapped in a long black coat trimmed with silver, his face hidden behind a half-mask of steel, eyes sharp as blades.
"You four destroyed four hearts of the Prime 10," he said quietly. "Few in history can claim such a feat."
He stopped beside Yuto's bed, gaze heavy but proud. "You've earned your recovery—and your upgrades."
Assistants rolled forward a case of polished obsidian. When Masauru opened it, the light from the ceiling reflected off gold and chrome.
"These are Hunter Enhancement Series V-7 suits—built for gods in human form," he said.
Each piece of gear gleamed with purpose:
A reinforced uniform of flexible black armor threaded with elemental channels.
Gold plates for the shoulders and abdomen—light but unbreakable.
A metal mask lined with shock-absorbing crystal, sealing the face from toxins.
A belt packed with a survival knife, painkillers, and signal flares.
Specialized boots tuned to each hunter's ability—Sun, Thunder, Water, and Wind.
And a map-projector strapped to the wrist, pulsing with blue holographic light.
Masauru handed Yuto his armor first. "Solar mesh—built to withstand your flame. Don't burn through this one."
Yuto smirked faintly. "No promises."
Sousuke's boots crackled with electric runes the moment he touched them. "Conductive plates," Masauru explained. "They'll amplify your thunder flow. Try not to fry the floor."
Akari's armor shimmered like liquid metal, every motion rippling like water. "Yours is adaptive. It flows when you move," Masauru told her.
Tatsusuke's cloak fluttered even in still air. "Wind-woven fibers," the master said. "You'll never be slowed again."
Finally, Masauru placed a small pendant on the table—a crystal orb glowing with tranquil blue. "And you won't go alone."
From the far corridor stepped a figure dressed in ocean-colored robes, long silver hair tied loosely behind him. His presence felt calm yet impossibly vast.
"This is Kaien Mizura—the Water Legend. He will guide you."
Akari's eyes widened. "The Kaien Mizura? The one who sealed the Abyss Tide Devil twenty years ago?"
Kaien bowed lightly. "Titles fade like waves, child. What matters now is survival." His voice carried the stillness of deep seas.
Masauru looked at the four hunters. "You have one mission—rescue the survivors trapped near the old Central Museum. Satellite scans show movement... and shadows that shouldn't exist."
Sousuke stood, sparks trailing from his boots. "Then we move."
---
By dusk they were gone—five figures cutting through a city still gasping for life. The air smelled of rust and stormwater. The wind howled between cracked towers.
The museum appeared on the horizon—a colossal dome fractured by time and battle, its marble facade split open like an eggshell. Statues lay broken across the ground, eyes staring at nothing.
Kaien raised a hand, and a thin layer of water spread across the floor, rippling outward. "No traps," he said after a moment. "But something stirs below."
Inside, the team moved in formation—Yuto at the front, Sousuke guarding the rear, Akari and Tatsusuke scouting flanks. Flashlights cut through dust and darkness, revealing murals scarred by fire.
Yuto's hand hovered near his katana. "This place feels wrong."
Akari whispered, "The air's too still. Even the water's afraid."
They passed shattered display cases—ancient relics, twisted armor, fossilized remains. It felt like walking through time's graveyard.
A faint sound echoed from below—a heartbeat, slow and deliberate, like something vast awakening.
Sousuke froze. "You hear that?"
The ground trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. Kaien's eyes narrowed, his reflection flickering across the water at his feet. "Something's coming," he said calmly. "Something old."
A low vibration rolled through the walls, then split into a shriek. From the cracks in the museum floor erupted black mist—dense, oily, alive. Two massive forms rose from it, their silhouettes warping the air.
One was lean and serpentine, scales of obsidian glass, eyes like dying stars. The other stood tall and skeletal, its spine coiled with crimson chains. Both emanated raw malice that bent the light around them.
Kaien stepped back, water curling defensively around his arms. "Primes," he whispered.
Yuto's eyes blazed gold. "Prime 8… Prime 9."
The temperature dropped instantly. The serpent's tail carved through marble, the shockwave tearing through the main hall. Sousuke caught the impact with a burst of lightning, skidding backward across the floor.
Tatsusuke's wind swirled around the group, forming a barrier of slicing air. Akari summoned a curtain of water to reinforce it, droplets hanging midair like glass beads.
Yuto's voice was steady but burning. "Form up! We can't let them reach the survivors outside!"
Sousuke grinned, thunder dancing across his weapon. "Then let's give them a light show."
Before anyone could move, the serpentine Prime 8's mouth opened—a chorus of whispering voices poured out, filling the air with echoes of every soul it had devoured. Prime 9's chains rattled in response, striking the floor like thunderclaps.
The energy pulsing from them was suffocating—an aura thick with death and rage.
Kaien's water shimmered brighter. "They're stronger than expected," he muttered.
"Stronger than the others?" Akari asked.
Kaien's gaze hardened. "Much."
Yuto stepped forward, the golden flare returning to his blade. "Then we finish what we started."
Lightning flickered. Water spiraled. Wind rose. The museum seemed to breathe with them—stone shifting, glass trembling, air pulsing with pressure.
Then, just as they prepared to strike, both Devils moved—too fast, too deliberate. Shadows burst outward, enveloping the chamber.
For an instant, the world went silent.
And in that silence came the sound of cracking marble and distant thunder—followed by Yuto's whisper:
"They're here."
The light from his sword ignited the hall like dawn breaking through a nightmare.
The battle had not yet begun—
but the storm had already chosen its ground.