"A Devil vs. A Harbinger and A Samurai"

Tokyo, Japan.

At Tokyo University, Gakuen-sai's night.

June 18th, 2026

8:50 PM 23° Celsius/73.4 Fahrenheit

The air was deathly still for a heartbeat. Then the world exploded.

"I will fucking torture you for weeks, months for what you did my father and brothers." Ryuji growled.

Ray scoffed.

"Man with a loud mouth. Make sure your fighting skills are louder." Ray taunted.

"You fucking asshole!!" Ryuji angrily screamed.

Ryuji charged first—sais drawn, a snarl twisting his face. He was all fury and fire, no restraint, no thought for defense. Just rage, sharpened into stabbing steel.

Ray dodged the first jab, weaving low, his fists striking like pistons into Ryuji's ribs. Bone crunched. Ryuji coughed blood—and laughed.

"You're still a monster, Queensman!"

Ray didn't respond. He never did.

A shuriken sliced the air toward his face. Ray ducked, grabbed a fallen branch from the ground, and swatted it aside like a fly. The moment he looked up—

CLANG.

Maria's katana kissed his knuckles. She was fast. Too fast.

Her movements weren't those of a warrior—they were of a dancer. Every arc of her blade glinted like starlight. Every strike was a graceful murder in motion.

Ray backstepped, barely avoiding a slash to the neck.

"She's not like the others…" he thought. "She's precise. Predictable… but fast."

He pivoted, fist shooting out like a whip. She twirled, letting the momentum carry her just out of reach. The katana came around low, almost grazing his shin.

Ryuji came from the side again—wild and unrelenting. His sai stabbed like fangs, but Ray grabbed his arm, twisted it, and drove his elbow into Ryuji's sternum.

CRACK.

Ryuji flew back, landing hard, rolling once, twice. Blood pooled from his lips.

"Fuck!" Ryuji spat, rising, his eyes mad with bloodlust. "You're fucking stubborn!"

Ray grabbed Ryuji's fallen sai and launched it—not at Ryuji, but at Maria.

She deflected it mid-air with her katana like she was swatting a fly.

Ray didn't hesitate. He bolted forward like a shadow unchained, headed straight for Ryuji.

But—

SHWING—!

Maria was already there, her katana just inches from slicing through his skull. Ray tilted, the blade cutting a shallow line between his eyebrows. Blood streamed down.

"You're fast, Devil man," Maria murmured, a faint smile of respect on her lips.

Ray stepped back, blood trickling past his eye.

He stood still. Silent. Breathing slowly. Focused.

Ryuji was pacing now, twitching like an animal in a cage.

"I'll gut you, Ray. Tear your heart out and feed it to those..women of yours," he growled.

Ray's eye flicked to him, calm as death. Then he crouched slightly, his muscles coiling.

And he charged again.

A flurry of motion. Fists, steel, blood, sweat.

Ray's punches struck like thunder—dislocating joints, fracturing ribs, splitting lips. But Ryuji was fast too—ducking, countering, jabbing, even laughing mid-fight.

Maria danced around them both, slicing into Ray's jacket, nearly drawing blood every pass.

But still—they couldn't land a clean blow.

Ray was faster.

Smarter.

Every movement he absorbed. Calculated. Learned.

Then—he caught Ryuji's sai mid-strike, twisted it from his hand with a savage wrench, and hurled Ryuji ten feet through the air.

Ryuji tumbled, hit the stone floor, rolled, and landed crouched like a panther. Bleeding, panting—but still smiling.

"You're fucking stubborn," Ryuji repeated, wiping blood from his mouth.

Ray didn't respond.

He dashed forward—

But Maria intercepted. Her katana flashed toward his cheek—

Ray veered, missing the blade by a hair.

Still—a slash opened up across his face, between the eyes. Shallow. But it stung.

Maria tilted her head slightly. "Beautiful reflexes, Devil."

Ray exhaled, tasting his own blood.

But just as he prepared to dive back in—

BANG.

A muffled shot.

Pain. Sharp and deep. In his thigh.

Ray stumbled, instinctively kneeling, looking around.

Maria and Ryuji turned behind them.

A figure stepped out from the shadows. Slim, feminine, casual in posture—yet deadly in aura.

An AR-15 rifle slung over her shoulder.

Face mask.

Large, tinted sunglasses.

A smile in her voice.

"Sorry, boys," she said, voice dripping with mischief. "I'm late, am I?"

Ray narrowed his eyes, recognizing her.

The masked woman.

The one who toyed with him and Izanami.

The one who didn't play fair.

She winked behind the lenses. "Hope I didn't miss the fun."

Ray stood, bleeding from the thigh, fists still clenched.

The game just changed.

And the Devil was far from done.