Takahashi Jin coughed weakly, tasting blood and ash on the thick air. The atmosphere clung to the scorched earth like a wound that refused to close—heavy with the stench of sulfur, spilled blood, and the bitter tang of burnt magic. The battlefield outside Kagetora Castle was no longer a battlefield at all. It was a grave.
All around him lay devastation. Earth churned and torn as if giants had plowed through it. Shattered weapons jutted from the mud. Broken bodies—human and demon alike—were strewn about in unnatural poses where they fell. Hours ago, this ground had been overrun by a tide of nightmares: a demon horde that swarmed at dusk with feral snarls and shrieks, seemingly endless in number and fury. The castle’s defenders had stood their ground with desperate resolve—swords flashing, bodies colliding, battle cries lost in the cacophony of beastly roars.
Now, in the aftermath, a heavy silence draped the field. A few surviving soldiers milled in shock, their silhouettes sagging under the weight of simply being alive. Some leaned on their swords or spears, too exhausted to stand upright without support. Others let out ragged, hysterical laughter that died almost as soon as it escaped, clapping each other’s backs with trembling hands as if to confirm they were real and still breathing. Soot and blood smeared every face, painting these young men and women as haggard old souls.
Jin slumped against the base of the stone wall, struggling to catch his breath. His chest heaved, and each inhale tasted of smoke and copper. The armor he’d been given—borrowed plate and leather meant for someone else’s war—was dented badly, pressing uncomfortably into his ribs. He barely noticed the pain. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He tore a strip from what remained of his sleeve and wiped it down the short sword in his grip—a wakizashi slick with sticky demon ichor and red human blood alike. There was almost nothing clean left on him to use; the cloth came away stained and wet. The blade felt heavier than before, as if burdened by the lives it had taken tonight.
Jin stared at the dark gore that coated the steel, trying not to think about how it got there. Only an hour ago, he had never so much as seen a real sword drawn in anger. Now he’d swung this one into living flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and a vivid memory flashed behind his eyelids: hot blood spraying across his face as a demon collapsed under his frantic strike. His stomach lurched and he forced the nausea down.
Nearby, Masanori was cleaning his own weapon with far steadier hands. The older man—grim-faced and scarred from countless battles—knelt a few paces off, dragging a blackened cloth along his blade’s length in practiced motions. The veteran did not speak. He didn’t need to. His calm, methodical actions said everything: he had survived nights worse than this. To him, the horror was familiar.
Jin swallowed, forcing words past the dryness in his throat. “Is it… over?” he asked quietly, barely trusting his voice.
Masanori didn’t look up from his sword. “For now,” he muttered. He gave a short, humorless grunt. “Don’t go thinking we’re safe. Don’t get stupid.”
Jin managed a faint nod. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he believed it was truly over either. But he had no energy left to argue. His entire body felt leaden with exhaustion and the ebb of adrenaline. Instead he just leaned his head back against the cold stone wall and gazed blankly toward the distant tree line.
The sky beyond the ruined field was deep, bruised red, as if it too had bled in the battle. Columns of smoke rose from the forest and the plain, twisting upward like ghostly fingers into the dusk. Watching those tendrils of smoke, Jin dared to hope—if only for one fragile heartbeat—that the worst had passed. They had held the line. Maybe, somehow, they had won.
Then the ground trembled.
It was slight at first—so slight he wondered if his own legs were simply giving out beneath him. Jin braced a hand on the wall and struggled upright. The vibration came again, stronger this time, sending a rattle through the loose stones. Beneath his boots, he felt the earth humming with some distant, powerful force. His first thought was an earthquake, but something about the rhythm felt intentional, like footsteps… heavy, colossal footsteps.
All around him, the others reacted. Conversations died mid-sentence. Every survivor tensed, listening, a new fear igniting in their eyes. The hush that followed was total—like the world itself was holding its breath.
Jin’s heart knocked against his ribs. He pushed off from the wall, turning wide-eyed toward the dark line of forest beyond the blood-soaked fields. “What… what is that?” he whispered, not sure he wanted an answer.
Masanori had gone still as stone. The seasoned fighter rose to his feet, stance shifting, blade in hand once more. Jin saw the man’s knuckles whiten around the hilt as a deep frown creased his face. Masanori followed Jin’s gaze to the tree line, eyes narrowing.
“Trouble,” Masanori said under his breath. His voice was flat, but Jin caught the note of dread buried in that single word.
The tremor deepened into a quake. Each thud through the ground was heavier than the last, a dull thunder rising from the earth itself. Jin grit his teeth as the vibration rattled up his legs and into his bones. It felt like something enormous was moving out there—something that made the very ground cower with each step.
Out of the twilight haze beyond the treeline, something colossal began to take shape. Jin squinted into the reddish gloom, his pulse hammering in his ears. At first it looked like a shifting shadow—a silhouette so massive it dwarfed the ancient trees of the forest. The tremors synced with its steps; each seismic beat grew stronger as the shape drew nearer. As it breached the edge of the woods and stepped onto open ground, the fading daylight revealed the impossible: the shape was a woman.
Jin’s mind balked at the sight. She was huge—towering the environment surrounding her. For a moment his brain refused to process what he was seeing, as if perspective itself had broken. The giant woman strode forward slowly, each footfall sending another shudder through the earth. Her long shadow fell over the battlefield, stretching all the way to the castle walls where Jin and the others stood. He realized with a start that the growing darkness around him was her silhouette eclipsing the last light of the sun. She was close enough now that he could make out details: the flowing black of her garment, the eerie glint of gold patterns embroidered across it, the pale shape of a face far above that caught the light.
Jin’s breath hitched painfully. There was a strange, otherworldly grace in the giant woman’s movements. She did not lumber or stagger as one might expect of something so large—she glided, each step precise and deliberate, almost gentle in execution yet devastating in effect. As she closed the distance, the final veil of haze lifted from her features. Jin felt his heart stutter.
She was beautiful. Terribly, inhumanly beautiful.
Her face came into focus like a doll’s carved from ivory—perfect angles and smooth, unblemished skin that seemed to glow faintly in the smoky dusk. Even from afar, Jin could see her eyes: twin embers of brilliant amethyst set in that flawless face. Those eyes burned with a cruel light that made his blood run cold. Her hair was jet-black, cut in a stylish fringe across her brow with the rest falling in soft waves around her neck. The evening breeze toyed with a few loose strands, but even the wind seemed afraid to muss her perfection.
She wore a furisode kimono of midnight-black silk that caught the dim light with an ethereal sheen. Elaborate golden sigils that looked like the corona of eclipse were woven into the fabric, patterns that seemed to shift and flicker as if alive. The robe’s long sleeves fluttered elegantly around her arms, and high slits up the sides revealed glimpses of impossibly long legs sheathed in silky black Tabis. The contrast of dark silk on porcelain skin was mesmerizing and utterly wrong in this context—a vision of refined beauty magnified to monstrous scale, standing amid death and ruin.
Jin realized he had stopped breathing. His hands had gone clammy around the hilt of his sword. What am I looking at? his thoughts screamed. This towering woman looked human, but she radiated an aura of raw, overwhelming power that prickled at his skin. Every instinct Jin had was shouting that this being was beyond anything they could hope to fight.
Beside him on the wall, he heard a sharp intake of breath. Rin—the shrine maiden who had fought alongside them—was clutching her ceremonial staff so hard her knuckles were bone-white. She stared up at the giantess, lips moving soundlessly before she managed to speak.
“That… has to be one of the Demon Queens,” Rin whispered, voice quavering with awe and terror. “Tachibana Reika… the Goddess of Ruin.”
Jin’s mind blanked, he thought he misheard. He tore his gaze from the giant woman just long enough to stare at Rin in shock. Tachibana Reika. That was her name—Reika’s name. It felt completely out of place on Rin’s lips, spoken here, in this nightmare.
“What… what did you just say?” Jin stammered. The world tilted around him, the ongoing tremors almost forgotten for an instant.
Rin tore her wide eyes from the approaching giantess and looked at Jin in confusion. “Tachibana Reika,” she repeated, and though she tried to sound steady, disbelief laced her tone. “One of the legendary Demon Queens in the demon realm Kokuyo, called the Goddess of Ruin. I thought she was a myth. Why? Do you—”
But Jin wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring at the giantess again, heart in his throat. Reika. Now that Rin had said it, he couldn’t unsee it. Those eyes, that face—magnified and changed, but undeniably familiar. It was as if someone had taken the girl he knew and grafted her likeness onto a deity of destruction. Jin’s vision swam. That was Reika’s face towering above them, wearing an expression he had never seen on her before: cold, amused, pitiless.
It couldn’t be. Reika was just a regular college student—a girl with quick wit and a fascination for the occult, yes, but still just a girl from Tokyo. Jin’s friend. His companion only hours earlier. How could she be here? How could she be this?
His chest constricted as if the air had been sucked from the world. “Reika…?” Jin whispered her name under his breath, barely a sound. Saying it felt absurd, yet the resemblance was unmistakable. Terror and desperate denial warred inside him. The girl he’d explored an old shrine with earlier today and the towering demon queen now striding across a corpse-littered battlefield simply could not be the same person. And yet—
Masanori overheard Jin’s strangled whisper. He tore his gaze from the approaching giantess just long enough to shoot Jin a baffled, alarmed look. “Why do you sound like you know her?” he demanded, voice tight. “Takahashi—who is that?”
Jin’s mouth had gone completely dry. He struggled to find words, the truth lodging like a thorn in his throat. “She… she was the girl with me,” he managed hoarsely. “Before all of this. Back in our world.” His eyes never left the towering figure. “Her name is Reika. My friend.”
Rin’s lips parted in astonishment as the implication settled. Masanori swore under his breath, a rare crack in the veteran’s stoic façade. Jin could hear his own heartbeat thundering. None of it made sense. He prayed he was wrong—that this was some monstrous coincidence, a different Reika or a cruel illusion. But deep down, he knew. The truth was written in those giant, merciless eyes.
By now the titanic woman had closed to perhaps a few hundred paces from the outer walls. She slowed, finally coming to a stop at the smoldering edge of the battlefield. Even at that distance, she loomed over them, a living colossus casting the fortress into shadow. Dozens of soldiers on the ramparts and in the yard below stood rigid with dread, every face turned upward to stare at the colossal newcomer.
The giantess regarded the castle and the scattered survivors around it with an expression of faint, entertained detachment. Her full lips curved into a slow, chilling smile. Jin’s blood turned to ice. He had seen Reika smile like that before—playful, as if she knew a secret no one else did. But on this scale, on this creature, it looked like the grin of a predator toying with prey.
A nervous murmur rippled through the defenders. Jin heard one soldier somewhere on the wall croak in disbelief, “Is… is it an Itsukami?” using the ancient word for a god. “No—” another choked out, eyes wide with terror. “No, it’s the Demon Queen… the Demon Queen has come!”
High above, the towering woman tilted her head at the faint sounds, as if amused by their whispers. “Well,” the woman’s voice purred across the distance, startling Jin. It rolled over the field like distant thunder—melodic and eerily calm, yet tinged with unsettling power. “Isn’t this interesting?” She spoke almost as if addressing children caught in mischief. The cruel undertone in her voice made Jin’s skin crawl.
Up on the wall, General Ishida—the castle’s commander, whom Jin recognized from earlier—forced himself forward. Jin saw the older man’s face pale beneath the grime of battle, but he raised a trembling hand in a gesture of parley. “I beg your pardon, divine one,” Ishida said, his voice steady but betraying his anxiety. “We have not seen one such as you in many years. Please, what is your intent here?”
The giant woman’s violet eyes flicked toward the tiny general on the rampart. She regarded him for a moment, then gave a soft, almost girlish laugh. The sound was gentle, yet the very air around her seemed to hum with an unsettling power as she laughed. “I sense something…” Reika’s voice carried softly, yet it rang clear with authority, “something familiar here.” She tilted her head slightly, a casual curiosity infusing her tone. She lifted one elegant hand, and with a sharp snap, a black folding fan unfurled between her fingers. Its lacquered surface gleamed with golden filigree, the edges of the fan’s ribs glinting like blades. She held it gracefully before the lower half of her face, her eyes gleaming over the fan’s edge as she studied the general with interest.
“Allow me through your city gates,” she continued, her voice smooth and almost coaxing, “and I may yet leave you to tend your wounded, without further interference.” She paused, the playful tone shifting ever so slightly as she regarded him, the weight of her words settling into the air like an inevitable conclusion.
Her words dripped condescension. A few of the defenders flinched as if struck. Jin felt his stomach twist—he recognized that lilting, taunting cadence. It was Reika’s voice, magnified and distorted into something cruel.
The general's hands trembled as he gripped the hilt of his sword. His knees felt weak, his throat dry, but he stood tall, despite the paralyzing fear that had begun to gnaw at him. He could feel the oppressive weight of Reika’s gaze upon him, suffocating and all-encompassing. She was no mere demon—even when she was pretending to be reasonable, she was a force of nature, a god-like entity, and he knew it. Every instinct screamed at him to bow, to grovel, but his pride as a commander held him upright, even as his heart pounded in his chest, he answered, “Great Demon Queen, please forgive our hesitation. Kagetora has just repelled waves of Demons. Allowing even one demon entry might shatter our people’s fragile peace. We cannot allow any demons to pass. This castle is under the protection of the Kagetora Shogunate. I must insist, we cannot open these gates, not even to one such as yourself.”
With a deep breath, he added, “Perhaps… we can help you search for what you seek inside these walls?”
Reika tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a faint, icy smile that seemed to freeze the air around her. “Fragile peace, you say? How quaint, human. You misunderstand me entirely.” Her voice, still smooth and melodic, now carried a chilling edge, each word imbued with the weight of her authority. “I am not here to negotiate, nor to entertain your trivial concerns.”
She paused, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement as she regarded him. “However, I shall extend you this courtesy. Tell me, have there been any… unusual events of late? Strange travelers, arcane forces, or energies akin to my own?”
The soldiers around Jin shuffled nervously, casting furtive glances at each other. The words from Ishida lingered, heavy in the air. Jin’s heart raced, his mind gripped by the rising tension. High above, Reika’s gaze darkened, her expression shifting from playful amusement to something colder, more dangerous.
The general hesitated, his brow furrowing under the weight of Reika’s gaze. Despite the growing terror in his chest, he forced himself to speak, his voice careful, respectful—almost pleading in its attempt to maintain composure.
"Forgive me, Great Demon Queen," he began, his tone softer, but still firm. "But we have seen no signs of... what you speak of. Our city has been under constant siege from lesser demons, but nothing out of the ordinary. Please, allow us to keep our defenses intact." His words were respectful, but there was a thin layer of unease beneath his controlled demeanor, as though he were walking a razor’s edge. The tension in the air thickened with each word he spoke.
Reika’s lips curved into a smile, but it was cold, calculating, as though she were savoring every second of his discomfort. Her eyes glinted with an almost imperceptible amusement, her posture still exuding that same eerie, unshakable grace.
“You seek to avoid my questions, General?” Her voice was calm, but a flicker of something dark—something dangerous—slipped into her tone. “You speak of your defenses, yet here I stand, asking only of strange travelers, not demons or attacks.”
The general’s chest tightened. “No, great one, I—” He cut himself off, realizing his misstep, but the damage had already been done. He lowered his gaze, hoping that his humility would convey the sincerity of his intentions.
“I... I only wish to protect my people, we cannot open our gates without cause.”
Reika’s gaze lingered on him, the playful edge to her expression slipping away as her eyes darkened. A silence settled between them, heavy and charged, and she took one slow, deliberate step forward. Each movement of hers seemed to draw in the very air, her presence suffocating.
The general, though still humbled, could not help but stiffen. Behind him, the other soldiers exchanged nervous glances, their collective anxiety reaching a boiling point.
And then, as if to break the quiet tension, Reika’s voice rang out, smooth as silk but cutting through the air like a knife. "Such courage, General... but courage and foolishness often share the same path. You do not know who it is you address, and yet you stand before me with such pride."
At that, a few soldiers behind the general stepped back, their fear becoming too much to hide. The atmosphere turned volatile, thick with the weight of her words. The soldiers’ uneasy shifts turned into whispers, and then into muttered commands. "Ready your weapons!"
The general flinched. "No! Hold!" he barked, but his voice was swallowed by the growing panic. It wasn’t enough to calm them.
The archers, already on edge, took aim without waiting for the final word. They loosed their arrows, driven by instinct and terror. Despite the lack of order, the arrows flew in Reika’s direction.
The projectiles hit her aura and bounced off like mere raindrops. One, however, made it through the shimmering barrier, and the tip of an arrow grazed her kimono sleeve.
For a brief moment, everything stilled. The soldiers, eyes wide, realized what had happened. A single arrow had pierced the fabric of her clothing, and in that moment, it was as though time itself froze.
Reika’s gaze slid slowly down to the torn fabric, her expression unreadable. The slightest of smirks tugged at her lips, but it wasn’t one of amusement. "How typical," she muttered, her voice as calm and detached as ever. "Even offered peace, and yet... violence is your only language."
Jin’s breath caught in his throat. He knew it was hopeless. But in their terror, the soldiers needed to act. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, gripping it in a futile attempt to prepare himself. It was as if his blade could somehow protect him from the unstoppable force that stood before them.
High above, Reika’s gaze swept over the defenders with a calm yet inevitable certainty, her eyes like twin stars burning cold with divine authority. “You have been given your chance,” she declared, her voice carrying the weight of centuries, “and yet, you chose defiance.”
A soft sigh escaped her lips, but there was nothing gentle in it. It was the sigh of someone who had already seen the outcome and found it both predictable and tiresome.
“The consequences were never in doubt,” she continued, her voice low and unwavering. “This is not a choice you make lightly, but now, it is too late to turn back.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with the finality of an ancient decree. To Reika, this had never been a matter of will—merely fate unfolding as it was always meant to.
She moved.
From her open palm exploded a writhing mass of darkness. Tendrils of pure night unfurled in an instant, each one as thick as an ancient oak and many times longer. They lashed forward with a sound like a dozen whips cracking the sky. Jin barely had time to gasp before the tendrils slammed into the ground where the outer line of defenders stood.
The impact was cataclysmic. Jin flinched as the earth buckled and exploded under the assault. A dozen men were caught in that first strike. Some were simply obliterated—bodies bursting into red mist and fragments of armor under the crushing force. Others were skewered outright, impaled on spears of black energy that punched through breastplates and flesh like paper. One soldier was lifted clear off his feet, screaming, pinned on a tendril that burst from the ground beneath him; a heartbeat later his scream cut off as his body was torn in half, pieces flung across the battlefield. Chunks of metal, earth, and gore rained down in a gruesome shower. Another man was hurled like a rag doll, limbs flailing, before he smashed against the castle wall with a bone-splintering crunch.
The ground erupted into a series of craters where the dark tendrils struck, dirt and fire and blood geysering upward. In the span of seconds, what had been a defensive line of thirty desperate souls was reduced to carnage. Half their number were simply gone—smeared across the ground or blown to pieces. The rest lay scattered and screaming. Dazed survivors shrieked in terror and agony, some scrabbling back toward the gate, others frozen where they stood, staring in disbelief at the obliteration of their comrades.
Jin had thrown himself flat behind a section of the battlement as debris pelted the walls. His ears rang from the thunderous explosion. As he lifted his head, peering through the clearing dust, a scene of pure horror lay before him. Dismembered limbs protruded from the freshly churned earth. Blood was splashed in great arcs across the trampled dirt and stone. Men who had been alive seconds ago were strewn about in pieces or writhing in their final moments.
He couldn’t breathe. Jin’s vision narrowed, a rising panic threatening to choke him. This was beyond any nightmare he could have imagined. Keep it together… some fragment of his mind urged. He forced himself to focus on movement—who was still alive? There, a few of the defenders had been at the fringes of the blast and still stood, staring in shock at the obliteration of their friends. Their morale, already fragile, was shattered completely.
On Jin’s left, Rin had stumbled back against the parapet, one hand over her mouth. Her eyes were huge and glassy with tears of disbelief. “So… this is a Demon Queen,” she croaked, voice trembling violently. “Power beyond reason… cruelty beyond measure… We’re nothing to her. Nothing but insects.” The last word came out in a strangled sob of despair.
Masanori’s face was pale beneath the grime of battle, but it hardened at Rin’s defeated wail. He spat on the ground, though his sword quivered ever so slightly in his grip. “Hopeless or not, I won’t die on my knees,” he snarled, perhaps more to convince himself than anyone else. Still, Jin could hear the resignation beneath the anger.
Jin struggled upright. His legs felt like lead and his mind screamed at him to run, to hide—but there was nowhere to go. He found himself transfixed by the giant woman once more. She was moving again, stepping closer through the field of corpses her attack had created. The ground quaked under her sandal as she advanced with unhurried grace.
At her feet, nearly within arm’s reach of her towering form, a fallen soldier stirred. By some miracle or curse, the man had survived the initial onslaught—perhaps shielded by the bodies of his less fortunate comrades. He lay sprawled on his back, armor cracked, a line of blood running from his temple. Jin watched the man regain consciousness with a jolt of panic. Instead of playing dead, the soldier began desperately crawling, dragging himself through the mud in an attempt to flee.
Above him, the Demon Queen noticed.
Jin saw her pause and look down at the tiny, struggling figure by her sandal. Her lips curled into an intrigued little smile, as though she’d found an unexpected plaything. Those enormous amethyst eyes followed the soldier’s feeble attempt to escape with almost childlike amusement.
The man managed only a few yards, clawing at the bloody dirt, before a shadow fell over him. Slowly, almost leisurely, the giantess raised the ball of her foot and positioned it above the soldier’s legs. For an awful moment, Jin dared to hope she might actually let him go—that this was just another taunt or test.
Then her foot descended.
It was not a stomp, but a deliberate, gradual press. The effect was far more horrifying. Jin heard the man’s bones splinter even before he heard the scream—a wet, crunching sound as the massive sole of her sandal pinned both his legs to the ground. The soldier shrieked in agony, a high, keening wail that cut through the silence. He thrashed, pounding his fists on her unyielding foot, but there was no budging the weight that held him. Under her sandal, his legs collapsed like brittle twigs. A dark red pool spread out from beneath the wooden sole.
Jin realized he had clapped a hand over his own mouth, smothering a cry of horror. He felt sick—bile burning at the back of his throat. This cruelty wasn’t quick or practical; it was methodical. Enjoyed.
Above the victim, the colossal woman regarded the scene with an air of casual disinterest. She lifted her fan slightly, eyes distant, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. "Oh," she remarked, almost absentmindedly, "Did I step on you?" Her voice was smooth, impassive, as though commenting on the most mundane of occurrences. "How inconvenient."
Slowly, she lifted her sandaled foot off the soldier’s mangled legs. The remains of the man’s body were barely recognizable—crushed bone and armor melding into a grotesque pulp of flesh. Miraculously, he was still alive, though barely, struggling weakly on the ground. Blood pooled around him, mixing with bits of tissue, his ragged breathing rising in tortured gasps.
Reika lowered herself into a crouch, her immense form looming over the broken soldier. Even at this angle, she seemed to stretch endlessly above him, her silhouette obscuring the last traces of light. She observed the man with a detached curiosity, her black silk kimono pooling around her like ink spilled on water. Her glossy black hair framed her face as she tilted her head ever so slightly, inspecting the broken man beneath her with the same indifference one might show to a discarded object.
Her delicate hand came down, index finger extended, pressing against his chest with minimal force, almost as if she were toying with him absentmindedly. "Still here?" she asked quietly, her voice carrying no more emotion than if she were inquiring about the weather. "I suppose this part is important to you..." She examined him without concern. "It wouldn’t be pleasant to lose it, would it?"
The soldier didn’t respond, his eyes glazed over, a low, strained moan escaping his lips as his body twitched, still alive but beyond any hope of recovery.
Reika’s lips barely quirked into a small, disinterested smile as she continued, her voice still devoid of emotion, “Let’s see.”
Then, with the same careless ease, she pressed her finger down. There was a sickening crunch, the sound of ribs snapping, and the soldier’s body gave a violent spasm, before going completely still. Blood began to spurt from his mouth and where her finger had punctured him, the fluid bubbling up in dark red bursts. She withdrew her finger, the blood smeared across it.
With an expression as blank as before, Reika wiped the blood off her finger. Her eyes flickered briefly to the lifeless soldier, but she made no further acknowledgment. “Mm, yes. How unfortunate,” she murmured softly, as if she were commenting on a minor inconvenience.
She rose to her feet with graceful indifference, her towering form casting a shadow over the chaos she had left in her wake. Jin, still frozen with disbelief, could feel the bile rising in his throat as the world around him seemed to spin. His breath came in jagged gasps, his body trembling as he wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
It was too much. This was real, and yet his mind refused to accept it. Every instinct screamed at him to look away, but his eyes refused to leave the monstrous figure standing before him, unfazed by the destruction she had caused.
He forced his eyes up again. The giant woman was rising to her full height once more, casually brushing her kimono sleeve as if dusting off a speck of lint instead of a man’s gore. In that moment, the dissonance hit Jin like a physical blow. This brutal, laughing goddess of death was Reika—his friend, the girl he’d shared coffee and idle conversations with, who teased him with unanswerable questions. He recognized her features, her mannerisms, even the coy tilt of her head as she looked around for her next victim.
But how could it be? How could Reika be doing these heinous things with such joy? The Reika he knew was quirky, intelligent, a little distant at times but never cruel. That Reika had been human. Not this… nightmare.
Jin’s mind rebelled, trying to reconcile the memory of a petite girl wandering through a rainy Tokyo shrine with the towering demon queen drenched in the blood of innocents. They overlapped in his head, impossible and maddening. He realized he was muttering under his breath, voice trembling: “Reika, how… what happened to you? How did you become this…?” The question faded on his lips, lost beneath the crackle of distant fires and the whimpers of the dying. There was no answer, only the continuing carnage unfolding in front of him.
The Demon Queen’s gaze swept over the remnants of the defenders. Perhaps two dozen still lived outside the gates, scattered and terrified. The giant woman pouted playfully. “Still don’t know when to give up?” she mused, her voice almost teasing. “Shall we continue our little game then?”
Without waiting for any response, she moved again. This time she didn’t bother with magic from afar. Instead, her immense form lunged forward with terrifying speed and grace.
Jin’s stomach lurched as her free hand lashed out. In a blink, those long, elegant fingers snatched up a soldier who had been stumbling toward the castle gate. The man—a young samurai—let out a startled yelp as he was lifted off the ground. His spear and shield dropped from his hands, clattering on the stones, as he was raised, struggling, into the air. The Demon Queen pinched him between thumb and forefinger around his torso, holding him up in front of her face. To her, he was nothing more than a squirming insect plucked from the dirt.
“Look at you,” she cooed softly. Her enormous purple eyes inspected the man with cruel fascination as he wriggled in her grip. “So eager to run? Weren’t you brave just a moment ago?” The soldier yelled and struck at her fingers with his gauntleted fists in blind panic, but her hold didn’t budge an inch. His blows might as well have been the flutter of a moth’s wings for all she noticed.
The corner of her lip twitched upward. “Let’s see how long your bravery lasts.”
Her fingers began to squeeze. Slowly.
Jin could hear the man’s scream escalating into sheer hysteria. Armored plates creaked and crumpled against his body with sharp metallic crunches under the pressure of her pinching fingers. The soldier’s voice jumped in pitch as a series of muffled pops signaled his ribs cracking one by one. He howled—a thin, desperate sound that warbled into a gurgle as splintered bone punched into his lungs. Blood bubbled up over his lips, dribbling down his chin. Even from afar, Jin saw the red droplets patter onto the stones below.
“Does it hurt?” Reika’s voice was almost tender, an intimate whisper to her victim. “You can beg me to stop, you know. I might listen.” She gave a soft, breathy laugh as the only answer was the man’s choked whimpering. His head lolled, consciousness slipping from the shock. The giantess sighed, disappointed. “No fun at all if you don’t scream.”
With a final, dismissive twist of her wrist, she closed her fingers completely. Jin heard a wet snap and the man in her grasp went limp—snuffed out like a rag doll. She had crushed the life out of him in an instant; his spine and sternum shattered, organs squeezed to pulp. The Demon Queen released her fingers, letting the crumpled corpse tumble to the blood-soaked ground far below. It landed amid the rubble with a dull, heavy thud.
A strangled cry of rage rose from what remained of the defenders. Jin tore his eyes from the fallen body and saw another warrior—one of the castle’s spearmen, face twisted in anguish and fury—sprint out from behind a pile of debris. With a raw yell, the man charged straight toward the giant woman’s foot, brandishing his yari spear. Perhaps witnessing his comrade’s fate had driven him past terror into madness. He lunged and thrust the spear at the huge sandaled ankle before him, aiming for the strap that bound the wooden sole to her foot.
He never got the chance. Reika didn’t even fully look down. Her other hand shot out down in a blur, releasing the fan to let it dangle from her wrist by its cord. She caught the charging spearman mid-stride. Her slender fingers wrapped completely around his torso, lifting him off the ground in an instant and pinning his arms to his sides. The man gasped—one moment he had been attacking, the next he was trapped, feet kicking uselessly in mid-air. His spear clattered to the dirt.
“I admire the enthusiasm,” the giantess purred, finally turning her gaze to the man trapped in her enclosed fist. Only his head and one arm protruded from her grip; the rest of him was utterly caged by her fingers. He struggled wildly, teeth bared in defiance, and managed to swing his free arm in a wild punch against the massive thumb pressed to his chest. The strike was meaningless—she probably didn’t even feel it. The spearman roared incoherently, an animal sound of anger and despair. In his frenzy, he reached down to his belt, fumbling for a small dagger.
The blade struck with force, but it did nothing to Reika’s skin. It glanced off her like a child’s toy bouncing off stone—its edge sharp, yet utterly ineffective. The moment it made contact, the metal seemed to bend around her, the impact absorbed by her unnatural resilience. She didn’t even flinch, her expression still unreadable as the sword harmlessly slipped away, its power nullified by something far greater than mortal steel.
“Bad move,” she murmured. Her fingers tightened slightly. There was a muffled crack as the spearman’s arm—the one holding the dagger—shattered under the sudden pressure. The man’s scream was immediate and earsplitting. The dagger tumbled from his limp hand.
“Shh, shh,” Reika whispered mockingly, lifting him closer to her face. “That’s one arm gone. You’ve got another… and two legs. Let’s see what breaks next, shall we?”
Jin felt ice in his veins as he watched her begin to methodically squeeze and release, toying with the soldier in her fist like a stress ball. A second crack—his right leg this time. The man’s scream became a ragged, pleading shriek. Blood foamed on his lips. Reika eased her grip again just enough to keep him conscious, savoring his agony.
“N-no… p-please…,” the soldier gasped, spitting blood. His bravado was gone, drowned in pain.
The giant woman’s eyes sparkled with delight at his croaking plea. “Please? Please stop?” she echoed, feigning a pout. “But I thought you wanted to fight. Where did all that spirit go?”
She squeezed again, and the man’s left thigh bone snapped like brittle wood. He shrieked, a sound that scraped the air. Jin couldn’t take it—he clamped his hands over his ears, tears streaming down his face as the soldier’s screams turned into wet sobs. It was too much. This wasn’t a battle, it was torture.
Dangling in her grasp, the spearman was barely clinging to life. Both legs and one arm hung at horrifying angles, shattered beyond repair. His remaining eye rolled back, the other swollen shut from pain. Only one limb remained unbroken, and Reika seemed content to leave it intact—for the moment. She leaned in so that the broken man was inches from her colossal, beautiful face.
“Does it hurt?” she murmured, almost kindly. “Go on. Scream louder for me.”
The man could no longer form words, only ragged, bubbling moans seeped out as shock and blood loss overtook him.
The Demon Queen sighed, disappointed. “No fun if you can’t answer.” With a casual flick of her wrist, she closed her fist entirely. The soldier’s broken body crunched sickeningly, bones and armor collapsing inward as she crushed him into a bloody lump. When she opened her hand, what remained of the man plopped to the ground in a mangled heap—little more than a sack of pulverized flesh.
High above, Reika wiped a few drops of blood from her palm onto the side of her kimono, leaving dark smears on the elegant fabric. She didn’t appear to mind at all. In fact, her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes bright, as though exhilarated. She was enjoying this.
Jin was openly sobbing now, though he didn’t remember when he’d started. His throat burned from stomach acid and from screaming futile pleas that he couldn’t even hear over the sounds of slaughter. He had never felt so small, so useless, in his life.
“This… this can’t be happening,” Rin’s voice said somewhere to Jin’s side. She sounded broken, lost in a daze. “She’s… she’s toying with them. This isn’t just power… it’s pleasure. She’s enjoying every second.”
Jin forced himself to look at Rin. The shrine maiden’s face was ashen, her eyes unfocused. She clutched her staff as if it were the only solid thing left in the world. Jin couldn’t blame her. His own mind felt on the verge of shattering.
Masanori stood stiff as a statue, his sword hanging loosely in his hand. He didn’t turn to Rin; his haunted gaze remained locked on the giant demon woman. “A demon queen,” he said, almost spitting the title. “Relentless. Merciless. Everything the old legends warned us about.” His shoulders sagged then, the fight draining from him. In a voice as dry and fragile as old paper, he added, “We’re dead already. Walking corpses. We just don’t know it yet.”
Jin wiped at his eyes with a filthy sleeve. He wanted to shout at them to run, to hide—anything but just stand there. But to run where? There was no safety, no refuge from her. And she wasn’t done. Not even close.
Down on the field, the Demon Queen regarded the soldiers with cold, analytical interest. The three men who had charged at her, defying reason in a futile attempt at bravery, stood no chance. She had no real need to respond to them, but she did, as if acknowledging the insignificant struggle of ants. Her gaze swept over the battlefield before she casually raised her hand.
With a simple gesture, dark tendrils of shadow shot from her fingertips, wrapping tightly around the soldiers. The tendrils constricted with ease, lifting them off the ground as though they weighed nothing, their weapons clattering uselessly to the earth. The soldiers were helpless, tangled in the inescapable grip of her power.
Reika’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips betraying no more than the faintest trace of a sigh. “Such unnecessary resistance,” she murmured. Her voice, cold and commanding, carried with it the weight of divine authority. “You would do better to yield.”
Without another word, she plucked one of the soldiers from the air, holding him with the same indifference one might hold a child’s toy. The soldier’s desperate thrashing was met with no more response than a slight flick of her wrist, as she brought the tip of her finger to the center of his chest.
There was no mercy in her gesture—just the inevitable end. The man’s armor split with ease under her fingertip, as though it were tissue paper. She sliced through him, unhurried and unemotional, watching the blood spill with detached curiosity. The soldier's body trembled briefly before slumping lifeless in her hand. With a dismissive flick, she let him fall, his body crumpling onto the earth below.
She turned her gaze to the next man, who was sobbing quietly, no doubt overwhelmed by the horror of witnessing his comrade's end. Reika’s expression remained unchanged, her eyes cold and impassive as she leaned down, placing her fingers around his skull. With a swift, almost casual motion, she squeezed.
The man’s skull cracked under her grip with a sharp snap. Blood and brain matter oozed between her fingers, but she paid it no mind, wiping the mess off her hand with the same indifferent gesture one might use to clean dirt from their skin. “You should have known better,” she said softly, voice devoid of malice, merely stating the undeniable truth of the situation.
The last soldier, paralyzed by fear, fell to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape. He scrambled, hands trembling, trying to flee as his life flashed before his eyes. Reika watched, not with amusement, but as one would watch a futile attempt at survival.
Her foot moved with deliberate precision, placing itself firmly on the soldier’s legs just as he tried to rise. The soldier's muffled cries rose in pitch as the pressure increased.
Reika did not flinch or show any sign of enjoyment; she simply stood, an immovable force. With a slow, unhurried motion, she crushed the soldier’s legs beneath her heel, hearing the sickening crack of bones breaking under the weight. His cries became little more than whimpers as he was pressed further into the earth, his struggle no more than the twitch of a bug underfoot.
When the pressure ceased, nothing remained of the soldier’s legs but a bloody, mangled pulp. Reika’s expression barely shifted, the only indication of her conclusion being a soft exhale, as if she had completed some trivial task.
She lifted her foot and stepped away, her eyes coldly surveying the carnage. The soldiers were all dead, their resistance nothing more than a fleeting attempt at defiance. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, as if to confirm the inevitability of their fate.
"Consider this a lesson," she said, her voice as impassive as her actions. "Do not make the mistake of challenging what is beyond your understanding."
Without another word, the tendrils of shadow sprouted once again from her fingers, the dark tendrils undulating like serpents. This time, they split into dozens of smaller, whip-like coils, lashing across the courtyard and along the walls with terrifying speed. Jin, still watching from the rampart, could barely process what was happening—everything felt distant, unreal.
One of the tendrils shot forward, striking a soldier who had turned to flee. With an unnatural yank, it ripped him from his feet, dragging him across the ground as he screamed in terror. He was pulled beneath Reika's massive, towering form, and without even a glance, she stepped down. The soldier’s scream was abruptly silenced with a sharp, violent crunch. His body exploded under her sandal, a grotesque spray of red staining the dirt. When Reika lifted her foot, nothing remained but a bloody smear.
Another tendril impaled a running man straight through the back. Its pointed tip burst out of his chest in a spray of gore. The man jerked and hung suspended for a moment, impaled mid-run, before the tendril withdrew. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
A third whip coiled around an archer who was descending a ladder from the wall. It squeezed and then flung him violently against the very battlements he’d been trying to escape from. Jin heard the sickening crack as the man’s body struck stone; a red smear marked where he hit before he tumbled lifeless into the courtyard.
Everywhere Jin looked, the result was the same: utter annihilation. In their panic, the survivors stood no chance. The courtyard became a killing field in the space of heartbeats. Blood sprayed the ancient stone walls and pooled in muddy footprints. The screams of men echoed, peaked, and were swiftly silenced one by one until none remained.
And through it all, the Demon Queen moved with a terrible elegance—almost dancing amid the carnage, her laughter mingling with the dying cries. To her, this was pure entertainment, a final grand flourish to the massacre she had orchestrated.
High above, Jin could only watch in stupefied horror. At some point he had fallen to his knees behind the battlements. His sword lay discarded at his side—what use was a sword now? What use was anything against her?
He peered over the edge again. The giant woman now stood alone amidst a field of corpses and ruin. Any living defenders had either managed to scramble through the inner gates into the castle or they were now dead or dying outside. The Demon Queen’s chest rose and fell with a satisfied sigh, her kimono spattered with blood up to her thighs. Bits of gore stuck to her sandals and speckled her pale skin. Yet even drenched in carnage, she remained heart-stoppingly beautiful—a vision of a dark goddess in the flesh. In some ways, that made everything even more horrifying.
Jin’s mind felt fractured. A part of him still gazed at her in awe—at the sheer scale of her, the way the embers of the burning field cast an eerie glow on her silhouette, the surreal blending of beauty and horror. But another part of him recoiled in absolute revulsion and terror at what she had done. How many had just died in those last few minutes? Twenty? Forty? More? And she was smiling.
A memory bobbed up in Jin’s shattered thoughts: Reika smiling over a cup of coffee on a rainy afternoon, her eyes dancing as she posed one of her strange philosophical questions. He had always sensed something untamed behind her curiosity. Now he was seeing that “something” laid bare—a predator unbound by any human restraint.
High above, the Demon Queen slowly turned in place, scanning for any survivors. None moved. The only sounds left were the crackle of a few fires and the low moans of those mortally wounded who still clung to life. Satisfied that the resistance outside had been utterly crushed, she finally directed her gaze to the castle itself.
Beyond the crumbled outer wall, the fortress of Kagetora still held a handful of defenders—Jin’s new allies among them. Jin’s breath caught as Reika’s eyes fixed on the fortifications. The last refuge.
Up on the rampart not far from Jin, Rin had collapsed to her knees. She was clutching her prayer staff to her chest like a lifeline, rocking slightly. Her lips moved in silent prayer or shock. Beside her, Masanori stood with a hollow expression, face flecked with another man’s blood. His sword hung limp from his hand. The fight had left him entirely.
“This is… the end,” Rin whispered, voice barely audible. “A Demon Queen… the Goddess of Ruin… We’re nothing to her. She’ll kill us all.”
Masanori didn’t respond. What could he say? His jaw worked soundlessly, eyes shiny not with tears but with a vacant despair. The veteran samurai who had stood against countless horrors now looked utterly lost.
Jin forced himself to stand, though his knees wobbled dangerously. He could not tear his eyes from Reika’s silhouette. Up close like this, she was so massive she blocked out half the sky, a living mountain of flesh and magic. Her presence dominated everything, demanding attention like a force of nature. Jin felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks again. Part of him wanted to call out to her, to scream her name, to beg her to stop, but his voice was lost somewhere between his heart and throat.
Inside his chest, his heart felt like it was splintering. Despite everything he’d just witnessed, a piece of him was still holding onto the absurd hope that there was some mistake—that this was not truly Reika, or that something of the friend he cared about still remained within that towering monstrosity. But after all he had seen… Jin wasn’t sure that girl existed anymore at all. How could she?
He looked up at the face of the Demon Queen—at Reika’s face—and for the first time, he truly couldn’t see a difference between them. The gentle friend from Tokyo and the merciless Goddess of Ruin were one and the same. Tachibana Reika was the Demon Queen, and the Demon Queen was Tachibana Reika.
And now, that Demon Queen was turning her full attention on the castle’s final defenders.
High above the courtyard, Reika’s luscious lips parted in a radiant, chilling smile. She leaned forward slightly, planting her other hand atop the wall, and gazed down at the scattering of soldiers below like a cat watching cornered mice.
Jin’s blood ran cold. He knew that look in her eye. She wasn’t done. She was only getting started.
All at once, Jin’s mind fled the nightmare before him, seeking refuge in memory.
He was somewhere else—somewhere far away and peaceful. A rainy afternoon in Tokyo. The soft clink of ice in a glass, the murmur of distant city traffic. Reika was there, sitting across from him in a small, cozy café that smelled of coffee and warm bread.
“What do you think happens when we die?” Reika asked.
She hadn’t even looked up when she said it. She was stirring her iced coffee idly, watching the dark liquid swirl. Her tone was so calm and casual that for a moment Jin thought he misheard her. The question was heavy, but she delivered it as nonchalantly as if she were inquiring about the weather.
Outside, beyond the rain-streaked window, Tokyo bustled with late-afternoon life. Neon signs reflected off wet pavement in twisting ribbons of color. Cars hissed by on rain-slick streets. But inside the café, time felt slower. The world was reduced to the gentle hum of the heater, the soft jazz playing over hidden speakers, and Reika’s voice cutting through it all with that one unsettling question.
Jin paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, the bite of food momentarily forgotten. He blinked at Reika. “That’s… a hell of a question to drop on someone out of the blue,” he answered with a nervous chuckle, trying to keep the mood light.
Reika didn’t immediately reply. She sat with her chin propped on one hand, her eyes distant as they gazed through the window at the rain. Those eyes—Jin remembered thinking how unusual they were, a shade of deep violet so dark it was almost unreal. In the dimness of the café, they seemed to glow.
“It’s not hellish,” she murmured after a moment, still watching raindrops slide down the glass. “It’s inevitable.”
That was so very like her. Tachibana Reika had always possessed a way of speaking that cut through superficial chatter and jabbed right at the heart of things. She wasn’t asking morbid questions to be edgy or dramatic; she genuinely pondered them. Jin sometimes felt like Reika lived in a different reality than everyone else—one where the usual rules and small talk didn’t apply.
He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the eerie mood. “I… honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
Reika turned her head and looked at him then. Jin felt pinned by that gaze. Her eyes were so clear and direct that it always made him feel she could see right through him. Right now, they searched his face, gauging his reaction. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“I figured,” she said softly. “You don’t like questions you can’t answer.”
Jin snorted, relieved that she seemed to be teasing again. “I like normal questions,” he countered. “Like, ‘what do you want for dinner?’ or ‘why did you ignore my texts all week?’ Those are solid conversation starters.” He gave her a pointed look, trying to steer her away from the morbid topic.
Her slight smile turned into a small smirk. “I wasn’t ignoring them. I read every single one—from across the room,” she replied, entirely deadpan.
Jin rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t count as replying and you know it.”
“It counts to me,” Reika said, lifting her glass and taking a slow sip through her straw. There was a playful glint in her eyes now.
Jin shook his head, both amused and exasperated. This was the Reika he knew well—witty, a little evasive, always dancing on the edge of serious and mischievous. She had a knack for twisting words in ways that made people either think hard or give up trying to understand. Often both.
He watched her in the warm ambient glow of the café. Her lipstick matched the deep plum shade of her nails, which drummed absently against the glass. Every movement she made was precise and deliberate, from the way she set her cup down to the way she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He’d always admired that about her—that quiet intentionality. It was as if she treated even mundane moments like part of some larger ritual only she understood.
Without taking her eyes off the window, Reika spoke again suddenly. “The world feels small,” she said.
Jin raised an eyebrow. The comment caught him off guard. “Small? You mean Tokyo? We live in one of the biggest cities on the planet,” he pointed out, not sure where she was going with this.
She shook her head slowly, still gazing at the neon reflections outside. “Not small as in population or area. Small like… confined. Like someone built the world to be a neat little box, and we’re all just stuck inside it.”
Jin didn’t know how to respond right away. He put down his chopsticks and gave her his full attention. When Reika started down these trains of thought, it was usually best to let her finish. Interrupting would only derail whatever point she was circling.
“I’ve felt it since I was a kid,” she continued, her voice quiet and thoughtful. “Like an itch at the back of my mind. Everything around us is just a bit too orderly, too explained. Like a picture drawn too perfectly—no gaps, nothing unexplained. And that perfection… feels false. You ever get that feeling? That there’s something just beyond what we can see? Not ghosts or gods… just something else that doesn’t care if we understand it or not.”
Jin gave a half-smile. “I only get that feeling when I’m talking to you,” he said, attempting a tease to break the heaviness.
She huffed a soft breath of laughter, acknowledging his gentle jab. “I’m serious,” Reika insisted, though a hint of a smile played on her lips.
That was the uncanny thing about Reika: she could voice the most bizarre, unsettling ideas without any hint of self-consciousness or doubt. As she leaned forward on the table, Jin noticed an intensity in her eyes that made him pause. She truly believed what she was saying, or at least believed it was important to consider. And she wasn’t looking for him to validate her—she was searching his face to see if he might have felt it too, if he could possibly understand what she meant.
Jin inhaled and, against his better judgment, humored her. “And if you did find this… something beyond?” he asked, meeting her gaze. “What would you do with it?”
Reika’s lips curved slowly into a fuller smile—one that showed a flash of teeth. There was a spark in her eyes, a mix of mischief and something darker that made Jin shiver. She tapped a fingernail against the side of her glass thoughtfully. Then she answered, “I think I’d reach out and touch it. Just to see if it would bleed.”
A chill ran up Jin’s spine at the way she said it—light and lilting, as if joking, but her eyes… her eyes had that telltale glint. The one that said the real joke was how serious she actually was. He forced a laugh, though it came out more nervous than he intended. “You’re going to end up in an asylum one day, talking like that,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Probably,” Reika agreed with a soft chuckle. “But at least I’d have interesting notes for the doctors.”
Before Jin could come up with a retort, Reika’s phone buzzed on the table, rattling against her saucer. She glanced at the screen and sighed, the weight of ordinary life creeping back over her expression. “My professor, harassing me about that paper,” she explained.
“The one you haven’t started?” Jin guessed knowingly.
She stood, gathering her bag. “Deadline’s tomorrow. That’s a lifetime away in Reika-hours.”
Jin snickered, tossing a few bills onto the table for his meal. “One of these days, your luck’s going to run out.”
Reika slung her bag over her shoulder and gave him a dazzling, impish grin. “And when it does, I’ll bend time until it doesn’t.” It was an absurd statement, but she delivered it with such breezy confidence that Jin couldn’t help but smile. That was Reika in a nutshell: either delightfully delusional or privy to some cosmic joke that no one else could hear.
She motioned for him to follow. “Come on. There’s something I want to check out.”
Jin threw on his jacket and grabbed his umbrella. He eyed her suspiciously. “Define ‘something.’”
Reika’s eyes gleamed as she paused at the door, the neon glow of street signs reflecting in her pupils. “An old shrine in Nerima. Abandoned. Weird rumors. Might be nothing. Might be something.”
“And you want to go now? In this weather?” Jin nodded toward the window where the rain still fell steadily.
She gave him one of those looks—half challenge, half cajoling. “Is your schedule that sacred? Come on, Jin. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Jin sighed dramatically, pretending to consider. In truth, he knew he would go—he always did when Reika beckoned. “You owe me dinner for this,” he grumbled, joining her at the door.
Reika pushed it open and stepped out into the drizzle. The cool rain immediately misted her hair and jacket. She turned back and flashed him a smile, bright and confident as ever. “If we find something good,” she called over the patter of rain, “you’ll forget you were ever hungry.”
Jin shook his head, unable to suppress a grin of his own as he popped open his umbrella and hurried after her into the downpour. She had been right, of course.
They did find something at that shrine.
And he never saw that carefree version of Reika again.
A thunderous crash jolted Jin back to the present. The memory evaporated, and with it any illusion of safety. He was back on the wall of Kagetora, and Tachibana Reika—the Demon Queen—was very real and very close.
Jin snapped his eyes open just in time to see her colossal form looming before the fortress. Reika had stepped right up to the castle’s outer wall, her body filling the sky. From Jin’s position on the ramparts, she was an endless mountainside of black silk and pale skin. The castle’s fortifications, which once had seemed so imposing, barely reached her mid-thigh now.
Reika regarded the thick stone barrier in front of her with a faintly amused tilt of her head, as though it were a curious little thing. To her, the great wall that had withstood countless armies was nothing but a knee-high inconvenience. Jin realized with a stab of terror that she intended to come through—one way or another.
She moved with calm deliberation. Bending at the knees, Reika crouched down in front of the wall. Massive slabs of stone groaned in protest as the earth trembled beneath her weight. Jin had to brace himself as the entire rampart shook under the giantess’s proximity. A huge hand as wide as a carriage lifted and settled on top of the wall just a few yards from where Jin stood. Long, elegant fingers curled over the battlements. Each digit was as thick as Jin’s entire body.
For an absurd moment, she almost appeared gentle—like a girl curiously peeking over a fence. Her enormous face hovered just beyond the parapet, eyes scanning the tiny figures of the defenders who still clung to the battlement. Jin found himself face to face with Reika on an unimaginable scale: her gleaming amethyst eyes each the size of a shield, her breath washing over him in warm gusts that smelled faintly of jasmine and copper.
She was so close he could see the fine details of her features magnified—the almost invisible freckles on her nose, the slight parting of her lips as she smiled in excitement, the glint of moisture on those lips as they curved. This close, her beauty was overwhelming, like staring into the sun. It was the face of a goddess—perfect, radiant, terrifying.
Jin’s heart thundered against his ribs. He realized he was gripping his wakizashi again, as if that little blade could do anything at all. Around him, a few soldiers loosed arrows or crossbow bolts at her, but Reika paid them no mind. The shots pinged off her flowing kimono or bounced harmlessly off her skin.
She leaned in even closer, peering down over the wall into the courtyard beyond. Jin heard screams from below as people scattered from the giant visage suddenly looming above them. Reika’s lips curled with predatory glee.
Then she acted. With impossible ease, Reika pressed her right hand against the top of the wall and pushed.
The castle’s mighty wall might as well have been made of paper. Under the immense force of that single shove, stone exploded outward in a cloud of dust and shrapnel. The battlement Jin stood on disintegrated with a deafening roar. Huge blocks collapsed like a loose pile of bricks, raining into the courtyard. The section of wall that had stood for centuries was simply gone, reduced to rubble in an instant.
Jin felt the ground vanish beneath him. He fell with a cry amid the shower of debris. At the last second, he managed to hook an arm around a jagged remnant of wall still attached to the earth. His shoulder nearly wrenched from its socket as his body was jerked to a stop. He dangled precariously from the crumbling ledge, feet kicking over open air. Below him, the courtyard erupted into chaos as chunks of stone as large as carts crashed down, sending up plumes of dust.
Coughing and blinking through the grit, Jin hauled himself back up onto a stable stretch of what remained of the wall. Cuts and bruises burned along his arms, and his shoulder throbbed, but he barely noticed through the adrenaline spike. He scrambled to his feet amidst the ruin of the battlement. The castle’s outer wall now had a gaping breach tens of meters wide, rubble spilling into the yard. Beyond it, the giantess loomed, looking pleased.
Jin’s ears rang. He could faintly hear the panicked screams of people below, but his focus was locked on Reika. She stood back to her full height after shattering the wall, dust swirling around her like mist around a mountain. Fragments of stone tumbled from her hand as she withdrew it. Nothing stood between her and the vulnerable inner courtyard now.
“No… no…” Jin groaned in dread. He staggered on the broken wall, waving dust out of his face. Through the clearing haze, he saw dozens of castle guards and civilians down in the yard staring up at Reika in abject terror. They looked so small from this height, like scattered mice exposed in the open. Some were fleeing toward the inner keep, others frozen where they stood.
Above them, Reika lingered at the edge of the breach, surveying the new opening she’d created. The inner courtyard lay open before her, illuminated by torches and fires—a hive of frightened activity at her feet. Her mouth curved into a delighted smile.
Jin’s heart seized. This was it—the final slaughter.
Before he could think it through, he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs, “REIKA!”
It was a desperate, reflexive act—part plea, part attempt to distract her. The name ripped from his throat louder than he knew he could yell.
For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stop. The giantess heard him; Jin could tell by the way her eyes flickered and then fixed directly on him. Amid the settling dust and chaos, Jin stood alone on a fractured ledge of wall, the wind from the destruction whipping his hair and clothes. He must have looked utterly pathetic and tiny, but he had her attention.
Reika’s expression shifted at the sound of her name. Those enormous eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed thoughtfully. Slowly, she stepped closer to the shattered wall, her gaze never leaving Jin. Each footfall was a mini-quake that shook debris from the ruins. Jin had to brace himself to keep from toppling off his perch.
“Well, well,” Reika’s voice cooed, dripping with amused satisfaction. She placed one hand on her hip and peered down at Jin. “There you are, Jin. I had a feeling it might be you. Hiding out here with these little soldiers, hmm?” Her tone was almost chiding, as if he were a truant student she’d caught skipping class.
Jin’s heart slammed against his ribs. She recognized him—truly recognized him. Despite everything, that sent a flood of complex relief through him. But her tone… it was so casual, so Reika, yet so utterly cruel given the context. Tears blurred Jin’s vision. He realized he was shaking from head to toe.
“Reika…” he croaked, voice cracking. Dust and smoke burned his throat. He coughed and tried again, louder this time. “Reika, please—stop!” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for. Stop killing? Stop being this… this monster?
Far above, Reika tilted her head, an almost girlish gesture of curiosity. “Stop? Why would I ever stop now?” she purred. She rested her left hand on the broken wall—right next to Jin—and leaned down, bringing her face terrifyingly close. Jin stumbled back a step as her enormous visage dominated his vision. Her eyes searched him, and her lips curved in a smile that was equal parts fond and predatory. “You look so scared, Jin,” she cooed softly. “I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.” She giggled at her own joke.
Jin’s mind whirled. The cognitive dissonance of hearing her tease him in that familiar tone while surrounded by carnage was almost too much to bear. He choked back a sob. “Wh-what happened to you?” he forced out, voice trembling. “Why are you… like this? Why are you doing these horrible things? I don’t understand!”
Reika’s smile remained, but a flicker of something passed through her eyes—annoyance? She regarded him silently for a moment, while below the people in the courtyard took the opportunity to scramble further away. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with condescension. “Oh, Jin. You poor thing. You truly are out of the loop, do you?”
She straightened to her full height again, looming over Jin on his little ledge. The wind from her movement buffeted him, and he threw an arm up to shield his face from the gust of her robes. She clicked her tongue. “You really just stumbled into this world blind, hm? Of course you did.”
Jin’s pulse pounded in his ears. “I-I was looking for you,” he stammered, unsure if his words could even reach her across the distance. But her sharp gaze told him she was listening. “At the shrine, I—one moment we were there, and then I was here. I’ve been trying to find you ever since.” His voice cracked. “Reika, please, I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know what’s happening. I—”
Reika’s expression softened ever so slightly at the mention of the shrine, and for a moment, something flickered across her features—nostalgia, perhaps, mixed with something more ancient. But it was quickly replaced by an edge of something darker. “You were looking for me? How touching,” she mused, her tone laced with quiet amusement. “I’ve been here much longer than you.”
Her eyes traced his form, standing amidst the rubble at her feet, taking him in as if the weight of time had settled on her shoulders. “Long enough to realize this place doesn’t just change you, Jin. It reveals you. Strips away the limits of that boring little world we came from.” She spread her arms slightly, gesturing to the bloody landscape around them. “It shows you what you were always meant to be. Gives you what you never even knew you wanted.”
Jin’s mouth went dry. His mind struggled to cling to her words, to make sense of them through the haze of fear. Always meant to be? He looked at her towering form, at the carnage surrounding them. Was she saying this was what she was always meant to be? That she wanted this?
“Tell me, Jin,” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “what can you do now? Have you... gained anything since you arrived here? A special power, perhaps? I’ve evolve in unexpected ways in this place.” She paused for a moment, her expression unreadable, as if contemplating the difference between who he had been and who he might now be. “What about you?”
He shook his head vigorously. “I… I haven’t noticed any special changes in me,” he shouted back, heart aching. “I’m just me. Plain Jin, still trying to survive and understand.”
Reika giggled, a sound both enchanting and cold. “Still so innocent,” she said almost affectionately. “Maybe you haven’t been here long enough.” She leaned forward, and her massive face drew uncomfortably near again. Jin flinched but held his ground, knees locked. “Want me to show you what I can do now?” she asked sweetly, as if offering to perform a magic trick.
Jin’s eyes widened. “Reika, no, that’s not—” he began, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
Too late. Reika decided to demonstrate anyway. She rose back to full height and swept her right arm out in a wide arc, palm open toward the far end of the castle’s curtain wall. The air hummed and grew heavy as those black tendrils of energy blossomed from her fingertips once more.
In one horrifying instant, Jin understood her intention. “No!” he screamed, spinning toward where she was aiming. “Look out!” he cried to the handful of guards still on that far section of wall. They were already scrambling in panic, but there was nowhere to go.
With a casual flick of her wrist, Reika unleashed the tendrils. They struck like lightning. The distant rampart erupted into smoke and flame as the shadowy whips smashed through it. Jin watched in horror as stone and human bodies alike were pulverized by the blast. The portion of the wall that hadn’t already collapsed under her push now disintegrated under this new assault. A thunderous boom rolled across the courtyard, and an avalanche of stone cascaded down. Jin caught a glimpse of armored figures being flung into the air like leaves before they vanished in the dust cloud.
The shockwave from the blast staggered Jin where he stood. He threw his arms up as a hot wind and grit blasted over him. When he lowered them, blinking through stinging eyes, the far corner of the castle’s defenses was simply gone. A few half-crumpled towers remained, but between them was nothing but a yawning gap open to the twilight sky. Of the soldiers who had been stationed there, there was no sign at all.
A ringing silence hung in the wake of the explosion. Jin’s ears were whistling from the concussive force. Slowly, screams and wails began to reach him from the interior of the castle, where debris had rained down.
Reika surveyed the destruction with a satisfied grin. She flexed her fingers, dispelling the residual dark energy. “See?” she said, almost cheerfully. “They build these walls so tall, thinking they’re safe behind them. So silly.”
Jin stared, numb horror and fury warring inside him. More people—more lives—snuffed out, just to illustrate a point to him. His hands curled into fists. “Stop it!” he screamed up at her, his voice raw and cracking. “Please, Reika, stop! No more!” Tears of rage and helplessness blurred his sight. “They haven’t done anything to you! You’re murdering them like… like insects! Just stop, please!”
Reika’s gaze slid back to him lazily. His outburst was like a gnat’s buzzing. She arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his plea. “You’re still as soft-hearted as ever, I see,” she chided, voice smooth. “Always worrying about everyone else.” She gestured vaguely toward the ruined courtyard and the distant broken wall. “Tell me, Jin, do you cry for every ant you step on? Does your heart break for every fly you swat?” She chuckled, as if the idea genuinely amused her.
Jin felt a flare of anger through his fear. “They’re not insects—they’re people!” he shouted, sweeping a hand toward the castle grounds below. “They have lives, families… They feel everything you’re doing to them! You can’t just treat them like—like nothing!” His voice was shrill with desperation.
Reika’s expression cooled. She regarded Jin as one might an earnest but clueless child. “And I have power,” she replied evenly, tapping a finger against her temple as if imparting wisdom. “Power that renders their little lives meaningless. Why should I care about what’s meaningless?” She sighed, a touch of impatience creeping in. “You’ll understand soon enough. This world will teach you, just as it taught me.”
Jin’s shoulders trembled with anger and grief. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, I won’t. The Reika I know would never—she wouldn’t do any of this!” He gestured at the devastation, his voice breaking. “This isn’t you, Reika! The you I remember was human and kind and—and good. What happened to her? What happened to you?”
For the first time, Reika’s smile faltered. A shadow crossed her face—flicker of annoyance, maybe even anger. Her eyes narrowed. “The Reika you knew,” she said softly, “was a small, weak thing. A half-asleep girl playing at philosophy and ghost-hunting.” Her lip curled. “Coming here stripped that weakness away and gave me something better.”
She leaned down again, bringing her giant face level with Jin. Her eyes were cold now, her voice low and dangerous. “This world broke me down, Jin. Then it built me back up into what I was meant to be.” Her words throbbed with conviction. “It can do the same for you. It will, eventually, unless it simply breaks you. We’ll see which.”
Jin shook his head violently, backing up a step on the precarious ledge. “I don’t want that,” he said, voice trembling but firm. “I don’t want anything this place has to offer if it turns me into… into you!” The last word came out in a half-sob, half-snarl. His heart was breaking even as adrenaline drove him to shout at her.
An uncomfortable silence stretched. Reika’s eyes flashed—briefly, there and gone—at his accusation. A muscle in her jaw tightened. High above, the giantess exhaled slowly, her patience clearly waning. “Suit yourself,” she murmured, straightening up. The casual cruelty returned to her face like a mask snapping back in place. “Cling to your little old-world ideals if it makes you feel better. It won’t change anything.”
She began to rise to her full height again, as if deciding this conversation was over. Jin had to steady himself as the broken wall shook from her movement. Dust rained down around him.
Reika dusted off her kimono sleeves, even as crimson stains soaked into the black silk. She surveyed the ruined castle interior beyond Jin. Fires blazed on collapsed rooftops, and terrified eyes peered from behind whatever cover remained. The battle was effectively done. Only the mopping up remained.
“Well,” she announced breezily, as if concluding an evening’s entertainment, “I think I’ve had my fun here.” Her amethyst gaze cut back to Jin. She gave him a dazzling, chilling smile. “Time to head home.”
Jin’s stomach dropped into his shoes. Home? Did she mean… the demon realm, wherever she ruled? She couldn’t possibly mean—
“And you, Jin, are coming with me,” Reika added, almost as an afterthought, as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.
Jin’s heart lurched. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over a block of stone. “W-what?” he stammered. “No! No, I’m not going anywhere with you!” Fear surged anew, mingled with outrage. Did she think she could just carry him off like a possession?
Far below, in the courtyard, Jin spotted Rin and Masanori among a cluster of surviving defenders. They were staring up at the exchange on the wall, pale and stricken but alive. The sight gave Jin strength. He planted his feet on the rubble. “I won’t go with you!” he shouted again, fists clenched. “Not after everything you’ve done. Not like this!”
Reika’s laughter rang out—musical and utterly without warmth. “Oh, Jin,” she said, shaking her head, “you don’t really have a say in the matter.” Her expression hardened, amusement sharpening into command. “Unless you’d prefer I stay here instead… and rip this pretty little castle apart stone by stone.” She cast her eyes toward the central keep, where a few hundred civilians and wounded likely sheltered. “Starting with that lovely tower. I’m sure there are plenty of people hiding inside, aren’t there?”
Jin followed her gaze. Through the dust, he could see frightened faces peeking from the keep’s doorway—men, women, even a few children. The last of Kagetora’s survivors. Rin and Masanori stood at the forefront, battered but alive. If Reika renewed her attack, if she really decided to tear the keep down… Jin felt sick at the thought. He knew she could and would do it without hesitation.
His shoulders slumped. Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as the last of his resistance crumbled. He had no choice at all. “Please,” he begged softly, voice breaking, “don’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever you want… just please leave them alone.”
Far above him, Reika’s eyes gleamed with triumph. Her smile turned almost gentle. “That’s a good boy,” she purred. “I knew you’d come around.” She inclined her head ever so slightly. “I’ll spare this place, then—for now. As long as you behave.”
Jin closed his eyes, struggling to hold back sobs of frustration and helplessness. The guilt of surrender weighed on him, but what else could he do? At least this way the killing would stop, at least for tonight.
Reika clapped her hands together lightly, the sound crisp in the night air. “Time’s up,” she declared sweetly, as if concluding a game. Then her gaze drifted past Jin toward the castle’s inner compound. “Oh, but before we leave…” She trailed off, a sly grin curling her lips.
Jin followed her line of sight in confusion. She was looking at the shogun’s residence—the large hall near the back of the castle grounds. Though part of its roof had collapsed from her earlier attacks, much of it still stood. Jin’s blood went cold. Did she intend to take revenge on Shogun Hoshikawa for resisting?
Before he could protest, Reika moved her right hand again—but not to strike. Instead, her gigantic hand rose into the air above Jin. Her fingers opened and stretched toward him.
He realized with a jolt that she wasn’t going after the shogun at all—she was coming for him.
Jin stumbled backward reflexively, nearly losing his footing on the broken stones. There was nowhere to go. The immense hand descended on him like a closing cage. He shut his eyes, bracing for impact.
But it was surprisingly gentle. Her index finger and thumb pinched around his torso with care, firmly trapping his arms at his sides but not crushing him. The touch was inexorable and warm, the pads of her fingers conforming to his shape as they pressed in.
A yelp escaped Jin as his feet left the ground. In a single smooth motion, Reika lifted him off the ruined wall and into the air. The world spun dizzily. Jin felt the rush of cool wind as he was swept upward, higher and higher, past Reika’s waist, past her chest, until he dangled before her collar like a caught insect.
He dangled there for a moment, heart pounding and stomach lurching from the sudden ascent. Her grip was snug and immobilizing, but she was not squeezing the life out of him—yet. He could still breathe, though he could barely squirm.
Reika brought her other hand beneath him, palm up, and deposited Jin into it. She shifted her fingers, carefully positioning them around his body. Now he lay on his back in the center of her enormous palm, her thumb curved over his chest and her pinky supporting his legs. His entire body fit easily in the span of her hand. Jin trembled violently, adrenaline and terror coursing through him. The heat of her skin soaked through his clothes.
Up close like this, the scale of her was overpowering. He craned his neck to find her face looming directly above him, framed by the dark curtain of her hair and the starry night sky beyond. She was studying him intently, a curious light in her eyes.
“There we are,” Reika murmured softly. Her voice vibrated through her hand, resonating in Jin’s bones. “Nice and secure.”
Jin’s chest hitched. “Reika…,” he managed, his voice a thin squeak. He wasn’t sure what else to say—he was terrified of provoking her, but he was also terrified of what came next.
She regarded him for a moment, then gave a slight frown. A golden glow suddenly flickered to life around Jin, illuminating the darkness. He gasped as thin strands of light materialized and wove themselves into a shimmering web enveloping him. Within seconds, a cocoon of warm, humming energy encased Jin from shoulders to feet, anchoring him in place on her palm. He struggled instinctively, but the glowing bonds held him firmly.
Reika’s frown melted back into a smile. Satisfied, she lifted her hand and let go. Jin floated free of her palm, suspended in mid-air within the golden cocoon. The construct tethered him to her by some invisible force; as she moved her hand away, he bobbed gently alongside it, a meter or two from her face.
“Can’t have you slipping away,” Reika said, an unmistakable tone of pleasure in her voice. To Jin’s alarm, she casually flicked her wrist and the glowing cocoon drifted up to hover beside her head, as though tied to her by an invisible string. He dangled inside it, utterly at her mercy, swaying slightly with her movements.
Jin pressed his palms against the translucent golden surface. It was warm and solid, like being inside a soap bubble turned to soft glass. His heart hammered as the realization sank in: he was her prisoner now—literally captured in the palm of her hand.
Below, a collective moan of despair rose from the courtyard as the surviving townsfolk saw Jin taken. To them it must have looked like the Goddess of Ruin had plucked one of their heroes from their midst and caged him like a firefly. Jin’s face burned with helpless shame and fear.
With Jin secured, Reika turned her attention back to the castle interior. Keeping the glowing orb (and Jin within it) floating at her shoulder, she stepped fully into the courtyard through the breach in the wall. The ground shook under her sandals, squashing broken masonry—and a few still-living wounded—into the mud. She didn’t even glance down at them.
Her interest lay with the palace hall where Shogun Hoshikawa and his retinue had likely taken refuge. The ornate structure stood partially collapsed, its once-proud roof sagging on one side. Reika’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she regarded it. Jin, suspended near her shoulder, realized what she intended and felt a spike of alarm.
“No—Reika, wait!” he shouted from within his shimmering cage. “You said you’d spare them!”
Either she didn’t hear his tiny voice or chose to ignore it. The giantess crouched down over the palace hall, her immense form casting it in deep shadow. Screams echoed from within as people inside saw the darkness fall.
Reika peered into the grand audience chamber through its shattered roof. Jin had a high vantage from his floating prison; he could see down into the hall as well. Shogun Hoshikawa stood surrounded by a cluster of samurai guards and a few officials. They were transfixed in horror as Reika’s gigantic face filled the gap in the roof above them.
“Well, well,” Reika said, her tone almost cheerful. “Hiding in here, are we?” Her voice boomed into the hall, eliciting winces. “How rude, trying to skip our introduction.”
With that, she inserted her hand into the building. Beams and rafters cracked like twigs as her arm plunged through the roof. People scattered inside, scrambling away from the searching fingers.
Hoshikawa tried to bolt, but he was far too slow. Reika’s hand shot forward and her fingers wrapped around the shogun’s torso, pinning his arms to his side. The proud lord was lifted off his feet with a strangled yell. His topknot braid whipped around as she pulled him up through the roof, armor clanking.
Reika brought Hoshikawa, struggling in her fist, up to her face. His legs kicked futilely in midair. Even in the dim light, Jin could see the shogun’s eyes wide with rage and fear.
Reika held him delicately, so as not to kill him—yet. “What’s your name, little man?” she asked, voice honeyed but dangerous.
To his credit, Hoshikawa Takahiro straightened in her grip as best he could, trying to regain some dignity even while dangling dozens of feet above the ground. “I am Hoshikawa Takahiro,” he declared hoarsely. “Shogun of Kagetora. And you, demon, have no right—”
Reika’s laughter cut him off, echoing through the night air. “No right?” she repeated, her eyes alight with malicious glee. “My dear Hoshikawa, I have every right. But it’s charming that you think otherwise.” She gave him the slightest squeeze, making the shogun grunt in pain. “Hmm, Hoshikawa… I recall a Hoshikawa—your grandfather or great-grandfather, perhaps—used to grovel at my feet generations ago. Worshipped me like a goddess.” She sighed theatrically. “And look at you lot now, all grown up and prideful, forgetting your place.”
Hoshikawa’s face flushed red, whether from pain or anger or both. “That was a different era,” he spat. “We bow to no monsters now!”
Reika’s eyes flashed at the word monsters, and her smile thinned. “Bold words from such a small man,” she purred coldly. “You stand because I allow it, Shogun. Look around—your city lies in ruins and I’ve barely broken a sweat.”
To emphasize her point, she casually tightened her grip. Hoshikawa gasped, the air forced from his lungs as her fist constricted around his chest. His face contorted, and he clawed at her fingers instinctively, but it was like scratching a steel vice.
“What… do you want?” he wheezed, finally, voice cracking as the fight drained out of him.
Reika’s gaze flickered to the golden orb at her shoulder where Jin hung. She smirked. “I’ve already got what I came for,” she said lightly. “Consider yourselves lucky. I could’ve leveled this sad little city, but I’m feeling generous tonight. So listen well, Shogun.” Her eyes bore into Hoshikawa’s. “Remember what happened here. Tell everyone you meet that the Queen of Kokuyo is not to be defied. Next time, I won’t be so merciful.”
With that, she released him. Hoshikawa plunged from her hand with a cry and crashed through the remains of his own roof, landing amid splintered wood and tiles. His guards rushed to him in a panic.
Reika straightened up to her full height, dusting her hands as if cleaning off dirt. “That concludes tonight’s lesson,” she quipped softly.
Jin floated beside her head, silent tears on his cheeks as he watched Lord Hoshikawa lie groaning in the wreckage of his hall. The shogun was alive—hurt, but alive. True to her word, Reika had spared him, and by extension the city, once her prize (Jin himself) was secured.
The Demon Queen turned away from the palace without another glance and began to walk out of the courtyard the way she had come. Each of her steps caused the ground to tremble. Startled cries and sobs rose from people below as they scrambled to clear her path, but she didn’t deliberately target anyone now. She had what she wanted.
Jin hung in his golden confinement, pressed against the warm, invisible walls of his cage as he felt the motion of her strides. He looked down at the city of Kagetora one last time. Fires flickered among the ruins. The courtyard was littered with bodies and rubble. Those who survived—Rin, Masanori, and a handful of others—huddled together, tending to the wounded and gazing up with a mixture of relief and terror as the Demon Queen departed with Jin in tow.
Reika stepped through the massive breach in the outer wall and out into the open plain. The night air was cool on Jin’s tear-streaked face. Behind them, the devastated city of Kagetora lay quiet except for the crackle of flames and the distant cries of its people. They were safe for now, saved only by Jin’s surrender.
At Reika’s shoulder, Jin turned his head and looked up at her. From this close, he could see her profile against the moonlight—serene, beautiful, utterly indifferent to the suffering left in her wake. His heart ached with a confusing mix of emotions: profound fear of what was to come, heartbreak for what had been lost, and a tiny spark of hope that somewhere inside this towering being, the Reika he knew might still exist.
As the Demon Queen carried him off into the darkness, Jin Takahashi could only tremble in silence—helpless, disoriented, and utterly at the mercy of the friend he no longer knew.