December 7th, 2024 — Evening — Father Ashbourne's Lair

  Father Ashbourne had set out simple provisions—bread, water, and dried meat—on a small wooden table in what once served as the chapel's refectory. The three of them sat in the candlelit space, the stone walls absorbing their voices as they spoke in hushed tones.

  Ryuu leaned against a stone pillar, his massive frame making the space feel even more confined than it already was. His eyes never left Father Ashbourne as the priest recounted the events of the failed exorcism and the subsequent revelation that had transformed his understanding of Rei's nature.

  "So you're telling me," Ryuu said, interrupting the priest's explanation, "that you tortured the kid, then saw an angel, and now you think he's some kind of holy vessel instead of a demonic one?" His skepticism was evident in every syllable, his expression making it clear that he was still considering the merits of breaking the priest in half.

  Father Ashbourne nodded solemnly. "I know how it sounds. If I hadn't experienced it myself..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to his hands—the same hands that had burned their imprint into Rei's flesh hours earlier. "But the Archangel Michael appeared within the Vessel's mindscape. There can be no mistaking such a presence."

  Ryuu's booming laugh echoed against the stone walls. "That bone fragment Haikito gave you," he said, turning to Rei. "I thought the idea of it protecting you was ridiculous. Haikito orchestrating events seemed more likely than him actually foreseeing them." His expression grew more serious. "But that bastard did mention to me that Akuma would be your first major test as well, boy. Just like the priest here said."

  Rei, who had been quietly processing everything while eating, looked up sharply. "Just who—or what—is Akuma?" he asked, voicing the question that had been bothering him since his conversation with Father Ashbourne earlier. He had heard the name multiple times now—from Kage, from Ryuu, from Father Ashbourne—always spoken with a mixture of fear and reverence.

  Father Ashbourne rose from his seat. "Let me secure the lair first, ensure we're protected from outside threats." The priest moved toward the entrance, his footsteps echoing softly as he disappeared down the corridor.

  In his absence, Rei turned to Ryuu. "You've met him, haven't you? Akuma."

  Ryuu nodded, his typical bravado momentarily subdued. "After I was released from prison. The Seven Deadly came calling, offering me a place in their ranks." His massive shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. "I declined their generous offer."

  Father Ashbourne returned several minutes later, having secured the various entrances to the underground sanctuary. He took his seat at the table, his movements deliberate and precise.

  "Akuma is merely a nickname," Ryuu said, the statement clearly new information to both Rei and Father Ashbourne, judging by their surprised expressions. "His real name is Yuu Nakamura."

  "Yes," Father Ashbourne confirmed, leaning forward. "Born during the Sengoku period—Japan's age of war. The late 1500s, when the country tore itself apart." His voice carried the weight of historical knowledge. "Imagine entire provinces burning, armies of samurai cutting each other down, civilians caught in the crossfire with nowhere to run."

  Ryuu stood up, his massive form casting a long shadow across the table. "Picture a child in that hell. No family, no clan protection, nothing but corpses and carrion birds." The sentence hung in the air like a death knell. "He survived through any means necessary."

  "What do you mean 'any means'?" Rei asked, his voice quiet but insistent.

  Father Ashbourne's expression darkened. "When the rice runs out, when there's no game left to hunt, when even tree bark becomes scarce..." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Some people turn to the only meat left available."

  Rei felt a chill run down his spine. Cannibalism. A man resorting to eating other people? This man must truly be a demon, he thought to himself, the horror of it sinking in.

  "The first time, it's survival," Ryuu continued, his expression grim. "But something happened to Nakamura that didn't happen to others who made that choice. Each body he consumed made him stronger. His mana grew exponentially. What started as desperation became power."

  "The wars of the Sengoku period lasted over a century," Father Ashbourne added. "Plenty of battlefields, plenty of the dead and dying. By the time the Tokugawa brought peace, Nakamura had become something beyond human—a walking catastrophe that could level entire settlements."

  "At some point, however," Ryuu continued, pacing now as if the memory itself made him restless, "throughout centuries of existing, only one being could pose a challenge to his rule."

  Rei looked between them, his suspicion forming. "Lucifer?" he whispered.

  "Exactly," Father Ashbourne said, nodding slowly. "This explains Akuma's knowledge about vessels—how killing them only delays Lucifer's return rather than stopping it permanently. For a man with centuries of experience, this wasn't guesswork. This was hard-won knowledge from repeated attempts to claim Japan for himself, only to be challenged by Lucifer's influence again and again."

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  The priest rose suddenly, urgency evident in his movements. "We must hurry and get you healed, Righteous Vessel," he said, his expression worried. "The Academy that protects you will soon be under siege."

  The statement hung heavy in the air. Both Ryuu and Rei had known that a confrontation like this would come eventually. The forces that had been gathering—the Academy, the Guild, the Underworld—were all converging toward an inevitable clash.

  "How soon can we move?" Rei asked, standing as well. The burns on his chest had nearly healed, though occasional twinges of pain still shot through his muscles when he moved too quickly.

  "Dawn," Father Ashbourne replied. "I need to gather supplies, and you need rest to complete your healing." He turned to Ryuu. "Beast of the East, with your strength, could you create a diversion that would allow us safe passage back to the Academy?"

  Ryuu grinned, the expression transforming his face from menacing to almost boyish in its enthusiasm. "A diversion? I can create a fucking catastrophe if needed," he cracked his knuckles. "But if it's the Academy you want to get into, I'll take care of that myself... Trust."

  Rei watched the two older men begin planning, strategies forming between former enemies with surprising ease. His hand drifted to his pocket, where the bone fragment still resided. It no longer glowed, but he could feel its warmth against his skin, a constant reminder of the powers at work in his life.

  Meanwhile, across the city, other forces were already in motion. Reports had been filtering in throughout the evening—unusual movements in Shibuya, the mysterious reappearance of buildings that had vanished months ago, and sightings of figures who matched descriptions of the Seven Deadly.

  The Academy's intelligence network buzzed with activity as analysts tried to piece together the pattern. Whatever Akuma was planning, it was already beginning to unfold. The siege Father Ashbourne had warned about wasn't some distant threat—it was happening now, piece by piece, across Tokyo's sprawling districts.

  Inside his mind, behind their respective doors, both Leonis and Hikito listened with intense interest to everything being said, each forming their own conclusions about what it meant for their shared future.

  December 7th, 2024 — Late Evening — Shibuya District

  The streets of Shibuya glistened under a light rainfall, illuminated by the neon signs that painted the wet pavement in vibrant hues. Despite the late hour, the district hummed with the energy typical of Tokyo's most famous entertainment areas—shoppers hurrying beneath umbrellas, young couples ducking into restaurants, salarymen making their way to late business meetings.

  But something wasn't right.

  Dante moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his tall figure drawing occasional glances despite his attempt to blend in. He wore civilian clothes—a tailored black coat over dark jeans and boots—his legendary katana disguised as an ordinary umbrella held casually at his side. His eyes scanned the rebuilt district methodically, noting the structures that had mysteriously reappeared after months of unexplained absence.

  Master Rengo walked several paces behind, also in civilian attire, though he carried himself with the unmistakable authority of a 5-star hero. His weathered face was set in its usual scowl, his eyes narrowed against the rain as he observed their surroundings.

  After hours of careful surveillance, they reconvened in a quiet corner of a twenty-four-hour cafe, their voices low as they compared notes.

  "The report from Takao is confirmed," Master Rengo stated, stirring his tea absently. "Buildings have returned to Shibuya." They had initially thought the pattern random, but closer inspection revealed a disturbing consistency.

  "The buildings have one thing in common, Rengo," Dante said, leaning forward slightly. "Have you noticed too?"

  "Health facilities," Master Rengo replied coldly, setting down his spoon with a soft clink. "Every single one. Hospitals, clinics, medical centers."

  Normally, two 5-star heroes rarely worked together. Although Master Rengo and Dante had trained and become friends over the years, they had never conducted a single mission as partners. Both of them silently acknowledged that whatever they were facing would bring destruction on a scale that justified their combined presence.

  "Why would someone steal hospitals and clinics just to return them later?" Dante pondered, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table's edge. The question had been bothering him since they had confirmed the pattern. "What could they have gained during the months these buildings were missing?"

  As they exited the cafe, the rain had intensified, sheets of water cascading from the heavens as if nature itself sensed the impending confrontation. The streets had emptied somewhat, the late hour and worsening weather driving most civilians to shelter.

  They were crossing an intersection when Dante sensed a disturbance in the air above—a subtle shift in pressure, a faint distortion in the falling raindrops. His instincts kicked in before his conscious mind could process what was happening.

  A portal opened suddenly above him, a shimmering disc of distorted reality. Through it fell a car, mere inches away from where Dante had been standing a split second before. The vehicle crashed to the pavement with a thunderous impact, metal crumpling, glass shattering, the sound echoing between the tall buildings.

  "Dante! Are you alright?" Master Rengo shouted, already drawing his blade as he scanned for the source of the attack. His call went unanswered as Dante had already moved, positioning himself strategically on the opposite side of the intersection.

  A massive figure rolled down the street, his body impossibly round, propelling himself forward like a human boulder. The propeller hat on his head spun with terrifying speed, creating an eerie whirring sound that cut through the patter of rainfall. Jumba came to a stop at the center of the intersection, rising to his feet with surprising agility for someone of his size.

  Master Rengo gripped his sword, the blade gleaming and curving at unnatural angles as his concept activated. The precision of his weapon could only be achieved by a chef of Master Rengo's magnitude—"Phantom Cooking" allowing him to cut with impossible accuracy, as if reality itself were ingredients awaiting his knife.

  "Jumba fight now! You no match!" the massive figure exclaimed, clapping his hands together with childish glee despite the gravity of the situation.

  In that instant, a blade erupted from Jumba's chest, the tip glistening with blood as it protruded from his sternum. Jumba screamed in pain, his childlike facade cracking as he realized he'd been outmaneuvered.

  Behind him stood Dante, his movement so swift it had been imperceptible to ordinary senses. His katana was buried deep in Jumba's back, the legendary swordsman's expression cold and focused.

  "This won't be a fight," Dante said, twisting the blade deeper. "Your execution begins now."

  The battle in Shibuya had begun, a prelude to the greater conflict that would soon engulf them all.