The demon’s voice echoed across the black water, low and lazy.

  “Ninety petals,” it said, stretching the words with amusement. “You know what that means.”

  Akitsu Shouga said nothing. He did not turn. He did not flinch.

  He simply faced away, letting the darkness ripple around him, and stepped off the red island.

  The black water swallowed his boots without resistance, cold and silent, like ink folding over itself.

  “…You never listen,” the demon sighed, the voice tinged with exasperation.

  Akitsu walked forward anyway. The water rippled with each deliberate step, spreading outward in concentric circles. The drifting petals trembled, quivering as though the air itself acknowledged the weight of his choice. Each one glimmered faintly, fragile, ephemeral, like shards of a life already lived.

  Ahead, half-submerged in the black expanse, stood a red door. Its surface was cracked, worn with age, edges jagged, and dark veins ran through the paint like frozen blood.

  Akitsu placed his hand upon it. The wood was cold. Rough. Solid. Familiar.

  “This isn’t the first time,” he murmured, voice low. “And it won’t be the last.”

  The demon’s voice faded behind him. “Just remember—every door costs you something.”

  Akitsu ignored the warning. He opened it.

  Silence. Not darkness. Not light. Silence.

  The world collapsed inward.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on cold stone. Above him stretched rooftops—familiar, broken, ordinary.

  “…Crestfall,” he muttered, pushing himself up.

  But something was wrong. The air felt different—lighter, thinner. The pressure he always carried, the subtle hum of attention on him, was gone. No one was watching. No one felt him.

  A guard rushed past, oblivious. Through him.

  Akitsu’s brow furrowed. “…Different timeline.”

  A shout split the air.

  “Captain Calder! Watch your left!”

  He spun. Rhen Calder was already engaged, fighting Yurei again—but the scene was off. Rhen moved slower. Hesitation lingered in his posture. Masamune struck at the shadow, but Yurei’s form was sharper, quicker, unpredictable.

  “Rhen!” Akitsu shouted. No response.

  “…Right,” he muttered. “No one knows me here.”

  He moved anyway, stepping into the fray. Joyeuse flared with light, brilliant and pure, illuminating the street in a burst brighter than sunrise—but Yurei was instantaneous. Too fast.

  A shadow blade pierced Akitsu’s chest. He gasped, staggered.

  “…So that’s how this one ends.”

  Yurei leaned close, whispering with icy certainty, “You should not exist.”

  The world shattered. Black water. Red island. Petals drifting. Ninety-one.

  The demon observed silently. “…You died faster,” he noted. “Sloppy.”

  Akitsu forced himself upright, ignoring the voice. “Second timeline,” he said calmly. “Bad alignment.”

  The demon frowned. “You’re burning through chances.”

  Akitsu walked past him. “…You’re stubborn,” the demon muttered.

  Another red door. He opened it.

  Silence, then—pain.

  Akitsu already knew the sensation before it fully registered. He was impaled through the shoulder, black tendrils pinning him against a wall. Rhen lay nearby, motionless.

  Yurei loomed above him, voice smooth and measured. “You return. Again.”

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  Akitsu laughed weakly. “Yeah… not my best entry.”

  Yurei tilted its head, shadowed face unreadable. “Then let us end it properly.”

  Darkness consumed him. Black water. Red island. Petals drifting. Ninety-two.

  The demon did not speak this time.

  Akitsu exhaled slowly, chest heaving. “…Third try.”

  He looked down at the drifting petals, counting. Their glow seemed brighter this time, trembling with anticipation.

  “I’ll make this one count.”

  Another red door. He gripped the handle.

  Night air slammed into him like a physical blow. He staggered but stayed upright.

  This time—he arrived earlier.

  The fight had just begun. Rhen Calder stood opposite Yurei, Masamune in hand, but his expression was different—focused, precise, calculating.

  Akitsu acted immediately.

  “Rhen!”

  Rhen snapped his head toward him. “You—!”

  “No time,” Akitsu said quickly. “Drop the sword.”

  Rhen blinked. “What?”

  “It’s slowing you down,” Akitsu said firmly. “Trust me.”

  Yurei advanced. Shadows flickered and writhed, a storm of darkness ready to engulf. Rhen cursed under his breath and threw Masamune aside.

  “…Alright,” he muttered. “Then I’ll do it my way.”

  “Ghost,” Rhen said, phasing, moving like air through the battlefield—but not completely. His body shimmered, half-real, waiting for the right instant.

  Akitsu stepped back, raising Joyeuse. “I’ll keep its attention. You hit when it’s solid.”

  Yurei laughed softly, a sound like wind over broken glass. “How many times will you throw yourselves away?”

  Akitsu answered with action. Light erupted, blinding and pure. It tore through the street, scattering shadows. Yurei faltered.

  Rhen vanished. He reappeared inside Yurei’s form, phasing until the final moment, then struck solid. Impact reverberated through the shadows. Yurei staggered.

  “Again!” Akitsu shouted. Joyeuse flared repeatedly, disrupting the dark mass.

  Rhen phased, struck, phasing again—each blow timed with lethal precision.

  Yurei shrieked, form destabilizing. “This body—!”

  Akitsu kept his distance, light flashing continuously, shadows unraveling with every strike.

  “We almost have it!” he yelled.

  Yurei faltered, then fled. The shadows collapsed inward, tearing a裂 in space. Silence returned.

  Rhen collapsed to one knee. “…Did we—win?”

  “Not killed,” Akitsu said, rushing to him. “But driven off.”

  Rhen exhaled, relief plain on his face. “Good enough…”

  A whistle cut through the silence.

  Akitsu turned, too late. A mana arrow struck his head—clean, precise. His vision shattered.

  “…Ah,” he murmured as he fell. “So that’s the cost.”

  Black water. Red island. Petals. Ninety-three.

  Akitsu sat up slowly. “…Almost,” he whispered.

  The demon was no longer lounging. He was standing.

  “Third time,” the demon said quietly. “You saved him.”

  Akitsu looked up. “Then it worked.”

  “But you still died,” the demon reminded him.

  Akitsu nodded. “Yeah.” He studied the drifting petals. “…I’ll keep going.”

  The demon watched him silently, weighing him. “…You’re going to run out eventually.”

  Akitsu faced another red door. “…Then I’ll make the last one matter.”

  He reached for the handle. The black water rippled, petals trembling in anticipation, waiting for what would come next.