After I said it—that I would face Jason myself—Haroku didn't reply right away.
He just stood there, his gaze dropping to the pavement as if an old, painful memory had just clawed its way to the surface. I didn't push him. I didn't need to. We both knew this wasn't going to be a standard exorcism.
Without another word, he turned and walked away. That same night, he began his preparations.
Inside his apartment, the lights were dead. It was complete darkness—the kind that swallows the corners of a room. He sat cross-legged on the bare floor, his posture rigid and steady. Then, he closed his eyes.
At first, nothing happened. Just the heavy stillness of the empty apartment. But gradually, the energy in the room shifted. A faint, dark aura began to bleed out from his skin, barely visible but undeniably real.
The space around him vibrated, softly at first, then with increasing intensity. He forced his breathing to slow down. Deep, controlled exhales.
Memories flashed behind his closed eyelids. The pain, the suffocating agony of the last time he tapped into this specific power. It was the same forbidden energy that had nearly destroyed him, leaving him bedridden and helpless for months.
His fingers dug into his knees. "This time," he muttered, his voice hard. "I won't lose control."
Meanwhile, I was preparing, too.
My living room had been transformed into a makeshift workshop. Papers covered every flat surface—the table, the floor, stacked against the walls. Vials of specialized inks, ancient reference texts, and half-drawn symbols lay in controlled chaos.
I sat in the center of it all, working relentlessly. I was crafting Legendary Papers.
Each talisman had a specific, volatile purpose. Some were meant to seal, others to trap, and a select few designed purely to destroy. Every rune had to be perfect. Every brushstroke precise. A single millimeter of error, and the paper would be less than useless; it could be fatal.
I didn't stop. Ten minutes per seal. Then fifteen. Hour after agonizing hour, I kept grinding. My hands ached, my joints stiffened, and my eyes burned from sleep deprivation. But I didn't look away.
"To defeat Jason," I whispered to the empty room, "I have to be ready for absolutely everything."
By the end of the second day, I had hundreds. Fire seals, shadow binders, spirit traps, and even a few experimental designs mapped out from my own theories.
But preparation wasn't just about the tools. It was about raw capacity.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying my exhausted reflection. "The only thing I need now," I murmured, "is control."
I closed my eyes and triggered it. X-Form.
In a fraction of a second, my eyes flared with a bright, unnatural glow.
But within seconds, my focus fractured, and I cut the flow.
"Not enough," I gasped, leaning heavily against the sink, my lungs burning. "I still don't have control."
I forced myself upright. Again. And again. I pushed my absolute limits, trying to extend the duration, trying to master the sheer output of power.
-
Days bled into one another. We both trained relentlessly. Haroku trying to leash a power that wanted to kill him, and me preparing for a war of attrition. Everything was moving according to plan. We were getting ready for the final confrontation.
But then, the timeline broke.
One evening, as I was sorting a fresh stack of binding papers, my phone buzzed against the table. An unknown number. I stared at the screen for a second before answering.
"Hello?"
"Symen... where are you?"
I recognized the strained voice instantly. The principal.
"Sir, we're at home in the city. We were just—"
"You both left without informing anyone," he interrupted. His tone was sharp, strict, but a tremor of absolute panic hid just beneath the surface. "I didn't say anything at first because the situation seemed stable," he continued, his breathing erratic. "But now... you've crossed a line."
I stopped shuffling the papers. "What happened, sir?"
The line was quiet for a long, agonizing moment.
"Five or six staff members... they've disappeared."
A cold weight dropped in my stomach. "What do you mean, disappeared?"
"I mean we don't know!" he cried out. "They were here, and then suddenly, they were gone. No trace. No belongings left behind. Nothing."
My grip on the phone tightened.
"People are terrified," he continued. "Almost everyone has evacuated the surrounding neighborhood. No one wants to stay anywhere near that building."
My mind raced, connecting the escalating variables far too quickly.
"I didn't want to pressure you into coming back before you were ready," the principal said, his voice breaking. "But this is beyond serious now. We need you."
I closed my eyes, taking a slow, grounding breath. "Alright, sir," I said, keeping my voice perfectly level. "We'll be there tomorrow afternoon."
He paused. When he spoke again, the strict facade was entirely gone. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm just so afraid. I live right across the street. And whatever is happening in there... it's getting worse. Shadows moving in the yard. Nothing feels normal anymore. Everyone else is leaving, but I can't. Please... come as soon as you can."
I looked around my ruined living room. At the hundreds of perfect symbols, the scattered ink, the grueling days of preparation.
"Don't worry, sir," I told him. "We'll be there."
I ended the call.
The apartment was same as always, I stood there for a long moment, staring down at the darkened screen of my phone. Then, slowly, I set it face down on the table.
Something had fundamentally changed.
This wasn't preparation anymore. The battle had already begun. And whatever was waiting for us in that school was moving much faster than we were.