Eleven

"Judging from your clothes and faces, I'd say the person who wants to meet me must be the devil," Arthur looked at the black clothes of the people around him. Some wore cloaks, and others were black leather jeans and nothing else. 

"It is unwise to insult our boss," one of the cloaks said to him threateningly, and Arthur glanced their way. He waved his hand, and the ground beneath them turned soft, dragging the one who spoke into it before it hardened. 

"Next time you threaten me, you will die," despite saying that, he didn't mean he was going to kill him, but the short-tempered girl next to him would certainly do. 

"I apologize for his misconduct," the young man who spoke earlier hurried to make amends. "These rookies know not of our ways, and our boss's recent rise simply blinded them." 

"Recent rise?" 

"I'm sure that you have heard of her," the young man nodded. "The rising star of the sea, Eleven."