Sung Jiwon Naa made the first move.
He drew a long, steady breath, pulling the very oxygen from the surrounding air. The raging, chaotic winds that had been tearing at the city suddenly condensed with a violent hiss. In his right hand, a massive sword manifested—crafted entirely from hyper-compressed air.
The blade was enormous, glowing with a faint, ghostly white light. The wind along its edge vibrated at such a high frequency that the air itself seemed to scream in agony.
Without a shred of hesitation, Jiwon Naa propelled himself forward. Explosive bursts of air pressure erupted beneath his heels, turning him into a silver-white blur. He rushed straight toward No.2.
No.2 didn't stand still either. Its eyes flared with a desperate, predatory light as it dug its claws into the asphalt, muscles tightening like coiled springs—and it charged back just as fast.
The collision was cataclysmic.
No.2's massive, dark-infused punch met Sung Jiwon Naa's wind blade at the exact center of the street.
BOOOOM!
A violent energy blast erupted outward in a perfect sphere of destruction. Every remaining window in the nearby skyscrapers shattered into a billion diamonds of glass. Shockwaves rippled through the asphalt, peeling the road back like paper.
The sheer, concentrated force of the wind blade forced No.2 back, its heavy feet carving deep trenches into the ground as it struggled to maintain its footing.
Jiwon Naa didn't waste the opening.
He closed the distance in a heartbeat, maneuvering through the smoke, and drove a powerful, wind-reinforced kick straight into No.2's abdomen.
No.2 was sent flying like a discarded toy. It crashed through one building… then another… then another. Four… five structures collapsed in succession as its body tore through concrete and steel as if they were made of mist.
"What is this power…?" No.2 muttered, coughing up black ichor as it regained its balance midair, wings beating frantically. "How much phore does this boy even have…? How deep is his reserve?"
Before the thought could finish—Sung Jiwon Naa appeared above him.
"Now die."
His voice was a freezing vacuum, devoid of any human emotion. He raised his sword behind him, the blade expanding violently until it grew to the size of half a building, glowing with the intensity of a dying star.
With a single, absolute downward motion—
SLASH!
The air itself shrieked in protest. The ground split open for hundreds of meters beneath the trajectory of the attack. Nearby buildings didn't just fall; they were pulverized under the overwhelming wind pressure. Vehicles were lifted by the vacuum and hurled away like scrap metal.
The environment was completely devastated. A massive crater smoked where the blow had landed.
But—at the last possible instant—No.2 had vanished.
Far across the ruins, perched on a tilted rooftop, the Soul Reaper reappeared, gasping for air, its body trembling with a new, genuine fear.
"Huff… damn it. I almost died," it muttered, clutching its chest. "Good thing I can use any phore for forty seconds… I used teleportation for the full duration." Its jaw tightened, eyes locked on the white figure in the sky. "Otherwise… today would've been my last day."
Sung Jiwon Naa hovered in the center of the devastation, his white aura flickering as he stabilized himself.
"Huh?" he muttered, his eyes scanning the dust clouds. "Where did it go…?"
He narrowed his eyes, the cold hunter's instinct taking over. "Tch. Maybe I pushed too hard. It probably escaped somehow in order to survive."
His gaze swept across the ruined skyline with predatory focus. "I'll have to hunt it down… trap it… and extract everything it knows."
The air rippled with a sickening distortion as a powerful presence surged straight toward him.
Sung Jiwon Naa smirked faintly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his massive air-blade. "So you're coming back on your own? Fool."
He raised his sword to deliver a vertical cleave—but his blade met nothing but empty air. No.2 vanished again.
"Huh? Where did it—"
Before he could finish the thought, the space behind his neck chilled. No.2 appeared directly in his blind spot. A massive, dark-infused punch landed with the weight of a falling mountain before Sung Jiwon Naa could fully rotate.
The impact was thunderous. He was sent flying again, his body acting as a wrecking ball as he smashed through three high-rise buildings in a straight line, concrete exploding around him.
"Only thirty seconds left," No.2 muttered, its eyes glowing with a frantic, violet hue. "I have to end this within that time."
The Knight teleported again—appearing directly above Jiwon Naa while he was still reeling mid-air. It locked both fists together and slammed them into his abdomen with a concussive blast.
"AUGHH—!"
The air was driven from his lungs as he was spiked toward the earth. Sung Jiwon Naa crashed into the pavement, creating a massive, spider-webbing crater that spanned the entire intersection.
No.2 landed gracefully at the edge of the pit, its wings twitching. "You humans are becoming dangerous," it said calmly, watching the dust settle. "After hunting you… I'll hunt the others as well. Otherwise, they'll surpass us."
Through the haze of pain, Jiwon Naa's mind snagged on the plural. Using a sudden burst of air force, he shot back up to his feet, hovering at the center of the crater.
"What?" he said sharply, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "There are others like me on this Earth?"
Before he could process the implications, the Knight vanished again. No.2 teleported relentlessly, its form flickering in and out of existence as punches rained down from every conceivable angle.
But this time, the rhythm had changed.
Sung Jiwon Naa had adapted. He stopped trying to see the Knight with his eyes and began to feel the displacement of air. His wind sword moved in a blur, deflecting attack after attack with sharp, metallic precision.
No.2 vanished once more, reappearing directly behind him for what it intended to be the decisive blow—a piercing strike to the heart.
But the trick failed.
A dense, rotating wall of hyper-compressed wind formed instantly behind Jiwon Naa's back, creating a microscopic shield. The punch landed, but the impact was reduced drastically, the energy dispersed into the surrounding wind.
Jiwon Naa spun around, swinging his blade in a horizontal arc that threatened to cleave the world—but No.2 teleported upward, barely escaping the edge.
Damn it… only five seconds left, No.2 thought, its heart racing. The Temporary Phore is fading.
It glared down at the boy from the safety of the sky. "You're not the only one with power on this Earth," it shouted, its form beginning to flicker. "For now, I'll let you live."
Its lips curled into a mocking, jagged smile. "But I'll return… and next time, I'll take your head."
"Wait!" Sung Jiwon Naa shouted, launching himself upward. "Why run like a coward? Fight me properly!"
But No.2 was done playing. In the next instant, it used the final second of its teleportation to jump across continents, vanishing from the Japanese skyline and reappearing in a distant, desolate country thousands of miles away.
Sung Jiwon Naa ground his teeth together, the wind sword in his hand dissipating into a harmless breeze.
"Damn it… what was that?"
He lowered himself slowly, his legs finally giving out. He sat down amidst the ruins of the city, the silence returning like a heavy blanket. Exhaustion finally caught up to him; his muscles throbbed and his vision blurred.
"I used too much phore…"
He looked toward the rising sun again, the light reflecting in his cold, tired eyes. "Others like me exist…" he murmured, the words of the Soul Reaper echoing in his mind. "Then I'm one step closer."
His eyes hardened with a new purpose. "I need to find them… and I need to find that strange Soul Reaper."
Elsewhere
No.2 stood alone on a jagged cliffside half a world away, its wings tattered and its breathing heavy.
"They're growing stronger," it muttered, looking at its trembling hands. "The humans are evolving faster than anticipated. I must return to my world… and report everything properly to the Lord."
The sanctuary of the shelter offered safety, but it could not provide peace. The clinical hum of monitors and the smell of sterile air were a stark contrast to the scorched earth Nitsuki had walked only hours ago.
Scene Shifted
Nitsuki lay motionless on the hospital bed, the white sheets feeling unnaturally clean against his skin. Beside him, Dr. Ishimiya adjusted the IV drip, his movements precise and practiced. The doctor's face was etched with a fatigue that mirrored the boy's own.
"Hm… your physiological vitals are recovering, and your mental state is stable for now," the doctor said, peering over his clipboard. "But you're under extreme stress, Nitsuki. The neural pathways of your Phore are putting a constant strain on your psyche. If this continues, your mind won't hold. You'll break one day."
Nitsuki exhaled a long, slow breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles.
"What choice do I have, doctor?" he replied, his voice devoid of its usual energy. "This isn't something I can control. Even when I'm resting, I'm constantly thinking about how to end all of this. Every second I stop is a second someone else dies."
Dr. Ishimiya paused, his expression softening into one of genuine empathy. He placed a steady hand on Nitsuki's shoulder.
"I understand. Carrying this much responsibility at such a young age is a burden no one should bear," he said softly. "But remember this—you're not alone. Sami, Takashi, Nanami… we're all here. Together, we'll find a way to end this."
Nitsuki didn't answer right away. He knew the doctor was right, but the "other world" he had experienced made the gap between him and the others feel like an ocean. Still, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth touched his expression.
He turned his gaze toward the small, reinforced window of the medical ward.
Suddenly—
A strange, cold feeling crawled up his spine, like a drop of ice-water sliding down his back. His pupils dilated.
Why does this feel so wrong…? he thought, his hand instinctively reaching for the spot where his sword usually manifested. I hope nothing bad happens again…
While the survivors rested in the dark of the underground, the world above was stirring.
Far Away — The Origin
Deep within the heart of the overgrown jungle where the first nightmare began, the silence was absolute. The animals had long since fled or been consumed. At the center of a clearing stood The Exclusive Stone.
The monolithic structure, from which the very first Phore powers had emerged, sat bathed in the eerie light of a moon it didn't belong to. Its surface was etched with glowing, rhythmic veins of violet light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
It trembled.
A low-frequency vibration hummed through the earth, shaking the dew from the leaves and causing the very air to warp. The stone wasn't just a relic anymore; it was a cocoon.
Something—
Inside the core of the stone, a crack appeared. A wisp of black smoke, dense enough to have weight, leaked out and coiled around the base.
Something was awakening. And unlike the Soul Reapers, this presence didn't feel hungry. It felt sentient.