### Volume 2: Upper World

  **Chapter 8: Mara’s Shadow**

  The bar door creaked open on rusty hinges, letting in a gust of cold night air mixed with the smell of burning rubber and distant screams. Sky stepped outside, boots crunching on broken glass and demon goo that had already started to harden into black crust on the pavement. The street was a graveyard—cars flipped, windows shattered, bodies half-eaten or crushed under fallen debris. The Upper World’s fallout was still raining down in slow motion: chunks of pink-blue goo splattering rooftops, vines curling over streetlights like living veins. Demons prowled the edges, red eyes glinting in the dark. Devils flew overhead, wings tearing the air with wet snaps.

  Sky kept the knife low—his mom’s knife, edge still sharp despite everything. He moved quiet, sticking to shadows, trying to find a path out of the town. The Heart was quiet inside him for once, but he could feel it watching, waiting, like a coiled snake.

  Then he heard it.

  Heavy footsteps—too heavy. Something big.

  Sky turned.

  Ten feet tall. Skin like cracked obsidian, veins glowing red under the surface. Horns curling back like a crown of thorns. Claws dragging sparks across the asphalt. Eyes burning yellow, mouth full of jagged teeth dripping black saliva. A mid-tier devil—stronger than the fodder, slower than the elites, but built like a tank.

  It saw him.

  Roared.

  And charged.

  Sky didn’t hesitate. He ran—fast, legs pumping, spatial hum kicking in to make each step feel longer. The devil followed, ground shaking with every stride, claws raking concrete, tearing up chunks the size of trash cans.

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  Sky backed up fast—dodging behind a flipped bus, then a lamppost, then an overturned food truck. The devil smashed through all of it, roaring louder, getting closer.

  Sky spun, planted his feet, and waited.

  The devil lunged—claws high, mouth open wide.

  Sky sprinted straight at it.

  He ran up the devil’s arm—boots finding purchase on rough obsidian skin—climbed to the shoulder in three strides. Knife flashed. He drove it deep into the side of the devil’s thick neck, blade sinking to the hilt.

  The devil howled, thrashing.

  Sky jumped—kicked off the knife handle for extra height, twisting mid-air. His boot connected with the devil’s face—full force, will energy flaring.

  “Echo Flash.”

  The first kick hit—crunch of bone. The echo detonated a half-second later—explosive force ripping through the devil’s skull, black ichor spraying in a wide arc.

  Sky landed light, rolling once, up on his feet.

  The devil staggered, claws clutching its face, blood pouring from the wound.

  Sky stared at the knife still embedded in its neck.

  “My knife,” he muttered. “I’m lucky it has poison.”

  The devil froze. Then convulsed—veins bulging black as the ceremonial poison (old clan recipe, slow-acting neurotoxin) kicked in. It roared once more, weaker, then dropped to its knees. The body twitched, then stilled.

  Sky exhaled.

  Then he felt it.

  Aura.

  Stronger than Ray’s.

  Cold. Heavy. Like the air itself was pressing down.

  Sky turned slow.

  Ten feet away, sitting casual on a broken chair that looked like it had been dragged from the bar, was Mara.

  Black coat, long and dark. Void-black eye staring straight through him. The other eye—normal, but tired—watched with something like pity. Yami no Ken rested across his lap, blade drinking light.

  Sky’s heart slammed.

  Mara tilted his head.

  “Have you seen Sky?”

  Sky swallowed. Knife still in hand, dripping devil blood.

  “Why?” he asked, voice steady despite the tremor in his legs.

  Mara’s lips curved—just a fraction.

  “‘Cause I need to kill him.”

  Sky stared back. The Heart thumped once—soft, amused—but stayed quiet.

  Sky met Mara’s gaze.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know who Sky is.”

  Pause.

  “‘Cause he’s me.”

  Mara stood—slow, deliberate, coat falling open. The void eye glowed faint.

  He moved.

  Fast—faster than Ray, faster than anything Sky had seen.

  Boot to stomach—perfect, precise, no wasted motion.

  Sky flew.

  Back through the air, crashing through the mall’s front glass window. Shards exploded around him, cutting fresh lines across his arms and face. He hit the floor inside hard—rolling across tile, smashing into a display case, glass raining down.

  He lay there a second, gasping, blood in his mouth again.

  Mara stepped through the broken window, silhouette framed by the burning city outside.

  The chapter ended.

  To be continued…