The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat filled the small dining area, a welcome change from the tension of the previous night. T’Jadaka sat across from Lila, casually spooning eggs onto his plate. Lila, still a little flushed from their encounter, was trying to act normal, though her eyes kept darting to his.

  "Morning, lovebirds," Ruy said, sauntering into the room with Vitaliya by his side. Vitaliya was beaming, a knowing look on her face.

  Lila nearly choked on her juice. "Ruy!" she gasped, her cheeks turning a fiery red.

  "What?" Ruy asked, feigning innocence as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Just saying hello to the happy couple after a… long night." He winked at Vitaliya, who stifled a giggle.

  T’Jadaka, unperturbed, took a bite of his bread. "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, you know," Vitaliya chimed in, leaning against Ruy. "The usual. You two disappearing last night, then showing up this morning looking all… satisfied." She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Lila buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God, you guys are impossible!" she mumbled, her voice muffled.

  Ruy chuckled. "So, spill. How was it? Details, details."

  Lila finally lifted her head, her face still burning. "Nothing happened! We just… we talked. And then we just… kissed."

  Ruy and Vitaliya exchanged a look. "Kissed?" Ruy repeated, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  "That’s it?" Vitaliya asked, clearly surprised.

  Lila nodded, pulling her shirt collar up self-consciously. "That’s all. We just… made out. That’s it."

  Ruy sighed dramatically. "Man, T’Jadaka, you’re missing out on all the fun!"

  T’Jadaka just shrugged, pushing his empty plate away. "Maybe. But I got what I wanted."

  Lila looked at him, surprised, and he gave her a small, private smile that made her heart skip a beat all over again.

  Farrah was watching from afar, smiling softly as she sipped her tea. She was glad—relieved, even—to see T’Jadaka laughing and smiling again. Finally back to himself… finally living again.

  “It seems like we’ve got ourselves a pair of lovebirds,” Marla said as she stirred sugar into her cup. “I’m happy for them.”

  Farrah raised an eyebrow. “You’re awfully calm about having two young, dumb teens sneaking around your house.”

  Marla just giggled, light and unbothered. “I’d rather they explore here than out there. Besides…” She leaned closer with a mischievous smirk. “I’m the one who gave Vitaliya and Ruy the condoms.”

  Farrah nearly choked on her tea. “Wait—WHAT!?”

  Marla shrugged, clearly enjoying the reaction. “What? I had a husband once. I’m a woman of God, yes, but when I got married I had burning urges too. You think teenagers are any different?” She winked, sipping her tea with a smug grin.

  Farrah stared, speechless. “Marla… you’re a menace.”

  Marla only smirked wider.

  And from outside the room, a loud CRASH echoed—followed by T’Jadaka’s furious voice booming through the hall:

  “RUY! VITALIYA! I SWEAR IF YOU TWO DON’T QUIT SPYING ON US, I’M GONNA—”

  The tea nearly spilled as Farrah and Marla whipped their heads toward the sound.

  "Are you sure that teenagers are not kids? Because they seem to be acting awfully immature for their ages." Farrah said, a little annoyed, while Marla just giggled.

  "That may be true, but look at the bright side," Marla countered gently. "T'Jadaka is finally back on track. He has a girlfriend now, two loving friends who care about him, and a mother he knows, for a fact, actually loves him."

  Farrah couldn't help but smile, seeing T'Jadaka laugh and play with his friends. "You have a point there," she admitted, watching him. "I haven't seen him this genuinely happy in years. Maybe we can actually start acting like a healthy family now."

  "We were always healthy," Marla countered gently. "Because I never remember a day that, deep down, he didn't say he loved you."

  The domestic peace was shattered as Ruy bolted past them, sprinting for his life. "Chill out, bro, it was a joke!" he yelled over his shoulder, dodging a table. "You can't take a joke!?"

  T'Jadaka, a blur of speed, was right behind him, a wicked grin splitting his face. He didn't respond, just grabbed Ruy by the neck and hauled him into a bone-crushing headlock, immediately beginning a relentless noogie.

  "I told you to stop making fun of us, didn't I!?" T'Jadaka roared playfully, grinding his knuckles into Ruy's scalp. "You're not a girl, so I can do this to you! And you're going to take two times more for your girl too!"

  Ruy's face turned purple, his voice strained. "Vitaliya! Babe! Get this damn overpowered dude off me!"

  Vitaliya just stood at the edge of the room, watching the wrestling match with a knowing smirk. "That's it, honey! Defend my honor!" she cheered.

  "I can't defend it like this!" Ruy managed to gasp out before T'Jadaka tightened his grip.

  Farrah finally got up from her chair and separated them. "Okay boys, that's enough of that." She looked at T'Jadaka. "Can you help clean up this mess while I go and get some food to cook?"

  "Sure thing, Mom. What are you making?"

  "Oh, nothing really. Just something simple. Red beans, rice, and cornbread."

  T'Jadaka looked at her skeptically, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Is that because it's the only thing you can cook without burning it?"

  Farrah gave him a look that was a perfect blend of annoyance and resigned amusement. "No..." Her voice cracked on the word, making the lie entirely obvious.

  He chuckled. "Right. Well, we’ll be waiting so don’t take too long." he got closer to whisper in her ear, “You know how Miss Marla gets to when she knows food is coming but it's nice to be made.”

  Farrah gently patted T'Jadaka's cheek, a soft smile replacing the exasperated look. "I'll be quick, sweetie. Just make sure you boys don't reduce the house to rubble before I get back."

  "Yes, ma'am!" T'Jadaka responded with a crisp, playful salute.

  She paused, leaning in to place a kiss on his forehead and then on Ruy's, treating them both like the children she loved. "I love you, Jadaka."

  "I love you too, Mom. Now go before it gets too late—you know how stingy the store people get when it's near closing time."

  With a final, fond look, she grabbed her sword and her reusable bags, and slipped out the door.

  "Mama's boy!" Ruy yelled, teasingly, the moment the door clicked shut.

  "Who's the mama's boy, hoe!?" T'Jadaka roared back, a wicked grin on his face.

  Ruy didn't wait for a reply; he sprinted away, laughing, as T'Jadaka gave chase.

  Vitaliya and Lila watched the playful wrestling match unfold.

  "I have to say, T’Jadaka is acting more lively than usual. It’s kind of hard to get used to him smiling now," Vitaliya commented, watching T'Jadaka smoothly transition into a triangle choke.

  "Uncle! I GIVE! I GIVE!!" Ruy gasped out, struggling fiercely.

  Lila smiled a small, soft smile. "Yeah, it always makes my heart flutter every time I see his smile. We're just so not used to seeing him look so happy, it just… does something to me, you know?"

  Vitaliya's gaze lingered on T’Jadaka for a moment longer than necessary, her lip caught lightly between her teeth. "Mmmhm~ You got that right."

  Lila noticed the look and her playful smile vanished, replaced by a firm, possessive stare. "He's mine, Vitaliya."

  Vitaliya gave a dismissive wave. "Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch. It's fine to admire the artwork on the walls as long as I remember where my own car is parked." She leaned back, adding mentally, Though, if you two ever break up, I'll let him hit so quick~

  "Stop thinking about my man! You have a boyfriend!" Lila hissed, though her eyes were still warm with affection as she looked at T’Jadaka.

  "Oh, you just reminded me of something." Vitaliya leaned on the table, her expression shifting into a knowing smirk. "I have a feeling that you guys are not telling the whole truth~"

  Lila immediately stiffened, her posture becoming defensive. "What are you even talking about, Vitaliya? I told you all we did was kiss, that's it."

  Vitaliya didn't look entirely convinced. "Oh, I believe the kissing part, all right, but I don't think you're telling the whole truth~ You know what I think? I think you saw it, didn't you?"

  Lila’s cheeks quickly started blushing a deep crimson. "Why would you even say that!? Is your mind always in the gutter about sex!?"

  "You say all that, but you didn't say no, though," Vitaliya countered, her smirk widening with triumph.

  Lila sighed dramatically, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. You caught me. Yes. I saw his ‘rod’," she admitted in a rush, her voice barely a whisper.

  T’Jadaka and Ruy, still entangled in their wrestling match, paused and stared. Ruy looked scandalized, while T’Jadaka just looked annoyed at the sudden public discussion.

  "Aye, I think our girls are talking about our meats," Ruy whispered, leaning closer to T'Jadaka.

  "Please, can we go into another room? I don't even want to hear this conversation," T'Jadaka muttered, his discomfort obvious as he shifted away.

  "Nah! Don't think I haven't noticed that Vitaliya always gives you googly eyes every chance she gets," Ruy shot back, his voice dropping but holding a competitive edge. "Look, I might not be 'chopped,' but I'm grateful for the slice of that pie I get. Still, everybody knows you're the best-looking one here. I need to at least know I could beat you in one department, you know?"

  "You don't think that sounds suspect?" T'Jadaka countered, raising an eyebrow. "Wanting to know details about another man's anatomy and all that... The way you're talking, you might be bi."

  "Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to listen!" Ruy hissed, elbowing T'Jadaka and leaning closer to the girls' conversation.

  Vitaliya's eyes went wide, and she leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "No way! So you guys were about to do it! Don't lie to me, I know that look on your face!"

  Lila shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes out of sheer embarrassment. "We were close. It was all heated up... but when he actually got down there, I just... I froze. I was so flustered, and honestly? Intimidated."

  She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, avoiding everyone's gaze. "He noticed. He could tell I was uncomfortable, and he immediately stopped, covered me up, and just held me for a bit. We didn't go through with it."

  Vitaliya stared at Lila for a beat, processing the admission, then she burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained, bordering on hysterical. She slapped the table repeatedly, nearly falling off her chair.

  "O-M-G! You mean to tell me T'Jadaka got a damn ten-piece rod down there and you chickened out!?" Vitaliya howled, wiping a tear from her eye.

  "It wasn't funny!" Lila whined, still mortified. "It was just so... big. I mean, I better it was actually that big! It was like a tree trunk!"

  Vitaliya stopped laughing, her expression shifting to one of intense, demanding curiosity. "Wait, wait, wait. Lila, how big are we talking? Give me an estimate!"

  Lila swallowed hard, blushing even deeper. She looked around the room nervously, then finally leaned in and whispered the answer.

  Vitaliya’s jaw dropped. "To your... belly button!?"

  The sheer surprise in Vitaliya’s voice made the statement hang in the air like an electric charge. Ruy, who had been trying to pretend he wasn't listening, let out a high-pitched squeak and quickly turned his back, clearly overwhelmed by the mental image.

  "Are you happy now, you damn weirdo? You got the information that you wanted." T'Jadaka said, running a hand through his damp dreadlocks. "Can we please stop eavesdropping on them? This is getting creepy as hell, even if they are our girlfriends."

  "Fuck you, Migga..." Ruy muttered, his voice muffled by the wall he was still leaning against.

  T'Jadaka frowned, genuinely confused. "Why are you saying 'fuck me' for!?"

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Ruy slowly turned, his expression a mixture of profound envy and existential despair. "Fuck you, your daddy, and whoever is kin to that side of your family for having a god-tier genetic pool! Not only are you better looking than me, but you're even bigger than me too!? This is some bullshit, man!"

  T'Jadaka threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're the one who got all up in my business! Matter of fact, you're the one who mentally scarred your own self, so don't try to make this my fault just because I'm well blessed in every department and you're not!"

  "G-g-god damn..." Vitaliya muttered, staring at T’Jadaka with a mix of genuine awe, intense arousal, and burning jealousy. "Lila, you didn't just get a man, you got the jackpot in men! That's not a man, that's a damn weapon! You better hold onto him, girl, because if you don't—"

  "I will!" Lila insisted, a tiny, possessive smile now replacing the panic on her face. Her shame was still present, but the sudden realization of what she actually had in T'Jadaka was a powerful antidote. "I will. Now, are you done being a perv about my man?"

  Vitaliya just shook her head, still looking stunned. "I'm done. But I'm also severely jealous right now. Ruy, you got some serious catching up to do, bro!"

  Ruy just gave T'Jadaka a death stare.

  "Hm! Don't blame me for being born lucky," T'Jadaka shot back, a dismissive shrug in his posture. "I just have been blessed more than your ass."

  "And I'll forever hate you for that for life," Ruy growled, the envy in his eyes raw.

  T'Jadaka just rolled his eyes, turning back to his food. "'Miggas stay be hating,' but alright. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat before my stomach shrinks from hearing your jealousy."

  Few minutes later, Farrah emerged from the marketplace, her reusable bags heavy with groceries. She gave a quick, warm wave to the elderly shopkeeper, Mr. Ed.

  "Thanks for the groceries, Mr. Ed! I'll make sure to tell my son you said hello today," she called out.

  Ed waved back, his smile kind. "Thanks so much, Farrah, and tell T'Jadaka the little extra candy I gave him is from me."

  "I surely will," she giggled, turning to walk down the street. She shifted the bags, peering down into one of them with a slight frown. "Ah, shit... I didn't even grab my—"

  "Cigarettes?" a random voice cut in, seemingly from nowhere.

  Farrah looked up, her expression immediately hardening, and her hand shot out to snatch something that was flying directly at her head.

  She glanced down into her palm. Lying there was a pack of cigarettes she didn't recognize, labeled in stark black and silver lettering: "Deadly Sanctuary."

  "I don't even like to smoke these, plus they're long, not shorts," she stated. Her voice held a chilling, almost unnatural calm—the kind of calm that comes not from peace, but from complete and instant readiness for violence. She scanned the busy street, her eyes searching for the source of the unwelcome gift, her grip tightening on the pack until the cardboard crinkled.

  Shortly after, a man emerged from the deep shadows of an alleyway, stepping into the street's dappled light. He was impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit of deep charcoal, offset by a sharply pressed white shirt. His hair was slicked back, a stark, almost cartoonish blond that stood out against the dark fade at his temples—clearly dyed. With his warm, Latino complexion, the ensemble might have been handsome if not for the pair of thick-rimmed glasses he wore—glasses that conspicuously lacked lenses.

  "Long time no see, espléndida," the man drawled, his voice a smooth, low-pitched rumble that carried a hint of a practiced, theatrical accent. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

  Farrah's expression didn't change, but her disappointment was palpable, cutting through her usual composure. She let the discarded cigarette pack fall to the ground.

  "Well, it obviously shows, Javier," she said, her tone level but carrying a genuine sting. "Because you used to know what my favorite kind was."

  Javier's lips curved into a slow, unsettling smile. "Oh, I didn't forget. It's just some symbolism of what's to come today."

  Right after the words left his mouth, the shadows around them seemed to thicken and shift. Ten figures—hulking, silent, and clad in black tactical gear—detached themselves from the walls and doorways, surrounding Farrah in a tight, unbreachable circle. Each carried a weapon, but their attention was locked solely on her, waiting for the order to strike.

  "Ha, look at this. You guys are gonna jump me now? That's not really your style, Javier. Afraid you'll... what?" She let her voice trail off, a taunting smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, you don't think the inside streets haven't been talking about you, huh? Everybody knows you went toe-to-toe with Raiken. Hell, even surviving against a Mazoku alone is a feat in itself—there's no telling how strong you've gotten just from the pounding he gave you." Farrah blushed slightly, then giggled softly, a sound entirely out of place in the tense standoff.

  "What's so funny?" Javier demanded, his unsettling smile tightening.

  "Oh, nothing..." she purred, her eyes glazing over momentarily as her thoughts drifted. "I was just thinking of a good time~" Her mind, clearly in the gutter, had already moved past the threat of violence.

  Farrah just casually pulled out the pack of cigarettes she'd caught, slid one out, and expertly flicked it into her mouth with a practiced ease that bordered on performance art.

  "Got a light at least?" she asked, tilting her head.

  "You're seriously not going to entertain her bullshit, are you?" one of the black-clad figures muttered, his hand tightening on the grip of his weapon.

  The man standing directly in front of Farrah took a dramatic step forward, his chest swelling with self-importance. In a loud, fervent burst, he yelled:

  "黙れ！俺たちはこれから死神と戦うんだ。たとえ彼女に殺されようと、俺たちが彼女を倒そうと、この戦いは伝説になるだろう！" (Shut the fuck up! We're about to fight the Reaper, so even if she kills us or we kill her... Our fight will be legendary!)

  Farrah, who clearly didn't understand a word of the rapid-fire Japanese, simply cocked an eyebrow. Judging by his ecstatic, yet terrified, expression, she figured it was some kind of warped battle-cry.

  "What the fuck is his deal, Javier?" she asked, genuinely bewildered.

  Javier was holding the bridge of his nose, the picture of professional exasperation. "Sorry... most of them are, very big fans of you."

  "Really? Because I'm beautiful or I'm a badass?"

  "Both," at least eight of the surrounding men instantly chorused in unison, their attention completely diverted from the threat.

  Javier sighed deeply, a sound of utter defeat. "Next time, I'm never hiring fanboys for a targeted hit again."

  Farrah giggled, the sound light and musical. "I'm flattered, boys. You guys wouldn't be kind enough, before we fight, to tell me who hired this hit on me?"

  "We ain't telling you—" the same disgruntled man from before began, but Javier cut him off with a wave of his hand.

  "The father of the CEO boy you killed a few years back," Javier stated plainly, pushing his lens-less glasses up his nose. "He knew what, or who, his son was before he died. He doesn't seem to care; he just wants you dead."

  "Why the absolute fuck would you say that stupid ass shit!?" the disgruntled man screamed, looking utterly betrayed.

  "Because this is my mission, motherfucker!" Javier snapped back, his voice dropping an octave as a genuine edge of malice entered his tone. "I can tell my old friend whatever the fuck I want, even if I'm about to kill her."

  "WHO THE FUCK YOU TALKING TO!?" the disgruntled man screamed, pointing a shaky finger at Javier.

  "YOU, BROKE BITCH!" Javier instantly roared back, his professional facade completely gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated street rage.

  Farrah blinked, utterly baffled. "What the hell is going on...?" she muttered, glancing from one man to the other, her hand inching toward the sword at her hip.

  "I'M BROKE!? Okay, then let me give you a taste of something you can't afford!" the disgruntled man shouted, completely losing his composure. He raised a hand, and a faint, unstable blue energy began to crackle around his fingers—the initial charge of a magical attack.

  "Yeah, fuck the club up!" one of the black-clad figures yelled, mistaking the rapidly escalating hostility for a pre-battle ritual.

  "The last person standing gets to go kill her first!" a third man chimed in, eager for a fight.

  "さあ行こう！" (Saa ikou! / Let's go!) a fanboy cheered, pumping his fist.

  "You ain't 'bout it, bitch!" Javier yelled, reaching into his inner pocket and dramatically pulling out a handful of what looked like expensive jewelry. "Louboutin red!!"

  [SYSTEM PAUSE: The Author has interfered with the scene flow]

  STOP! Okay, this is getting a bit out of hand. I got carried away. We need to maintain the tension, not turn this into a meme battle. Let's just rewind back to a more serious tone for a second.

  [REWINDING TIMELINE: Returning to the moment before the magical attack was launched]

  Javier took a sharp, audible breath, his rage visibly deflating. He ran a hand over his slicked-back hair, smoothing the lapels of his suit, and walked directly toward Farrah. The sudden, unnatural shift in his demeanor stunned his fanboys into silence.

  He pulled out the silver Zippo, sparked the flame, and held it steady to the tip of her cigarette.

  She drew a long, deliberate drag. Smoke curled around them, temporarily softening the harsh lines of the tense standoff.

  "You were always so sweet to me," she murmured, exhaling a plume of smoke.

  Javier's expression settled into one of genuine regret, the first honest emotion she'd seen from him since his arrival. "You were always so cold... But I can tell that you've changed a lot."

  Farrah finished the cigarette in silence, savoring the nicotine. She flicked the spent butt onto the ground, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Her eyes, now clear and focused, settled on the men surrounding them. The theatrical moment was over.

  "Let's do this."

  The ten black-clad figures lunged at Farrah simultaneously, a coordinated, brutal wave of bodies and weapons. Yet, Farrah stood utterly still, her expression a mask of profound, almost bored, indifference.

  All of these guys are amateurs compared to me. Or did fighting Raiken improve me that much after I healed? she mused, effortlessly gauging their attack vectors. The moment they closed the distance, she sprang upward, a coiled spring of lethal elegance. In the air, she rotated into a blazing spinning heel kick, the impact snapping through bone and armor. The men scattered like bowling pins, slamming into storefronts and vehicles with sickening crunches.

  "If that's all you guys have to offer, you're severely slacking in the speed department," she remarked, landing lightly on the balls of her feet.

  One of the dazed attackers managed to recover and launched a small, sputtering fireball spell at her. Farrah didn't even turn her body; she simply raised her hand and flicked her wrist, creating a sudden, invisible wave of air that extinguished the flame a foot from her face.

  A second later, another mercenary, armed with a combat knife, darted from the smoke trying to stab her from behind. She sidestepped the blade by a hair’s breadth, the wind of the missed thrust barely disturbing her hair. Her right arm—her augmented, metal arm—snapped out and slammed the man directly into the pavement, creating a small, circular crater on impact.

  Is this your plan, Javier? To make me exhaust myself on these weaklings so you can come in and finish me off? she thought, her internal focus never leaving the impeccably dressed man across the street. Javier remained motionless, his hands tucked neatly into his suit pockets, the only person not engaged in the chaos.

  Suddenly, the man she had just punched into the ground grabbed her ankles with a desperate grip. Before she could react, two other figures vaulted into the air and unleashed consecutive wind slashes—arcane attacks shaped like shimmering blue crescents aimed at her torso.

  Farrah snarled, recognizing the imminent danger. With a guttural sound of effort, she ripped the man grabbing her ankles clean out of the asphalt and swung his body up to intercept the attacks. The unlucky man's scream was cut short as the wind slashes tore through him, leaving a spray of blood and shredded tactical gear that blocked the primary damage.

  She tossed the mangled body aside with disgust. "At this rate, none of you are going to make me use my sword. I hope you have a better plan than this."

  Javier watched her decimate his men, a finger tapping thoughtfully against his chin, his lens-less eyes narrowed. Farrah has improved drastically since the last time I saw her. She never had a Viltrumlight Tag, so I could never actually know her standing in their rankings.

  He remembered their last conversation when she was sixteen; physically, she was estimated at an S/0 level, but her combat skill was already off the charts, easily SS/0. A fight with Raiken, even a losing one, must have done more than just heal her.

  He knew Raiken wasn't a Viltrumlight, or even human—he was a Mazoku, a humanoid like Chimerasylph, an anomaly of pure destructive power. If Raiken could be quantified by a Viltrumlight system, he would sit at an unimaginable peak, perhaps XXX/0 in physicality and immeasurable in skill. He’s been around for too long to guess.

  How high are her stats now? Javier wondered, the question burning in his mind as Farrah effortlessly dodged a kinetic blast, then countered with a kick that sent three men spiraling. She's operating at a whole new level of speed and precision.

  Only after a few minutes, all ten of the hitmen were sprawled on the ground, alive but temporarily incapacitated, moaning and groaning from broken bones and the sheer force of Farrah’s blows.

  Farrah didn't spare them a second glance, her focus locked entirely on the impeccably dressed man across the street. "This can't be it, right, Javier? I know you. I know you have a better plan than this pathetic warm-up."

  Javier's unsettling smile returned. "Oh, the warm-up is over. That was only Phase One."

  Farrah frowned in confusion. Then, she saw it: all the men she had knocked down—the ones who should be waiting for an ambulance—were starting to stir. They pushed themselves up, their eyes vacant, their broken limbs mending with unnatural speed.

  "Come on, guys. Be smart. Don't make me have to kill you over nothing," Farrah warned, her voice losing its playful edge.

  In unison, the men smirked. They clenched both hands into fists, holding them in a strange, stylized fighting pose: the left fist slightly higher near the face, the right fist closer to the chest, before crossing their arms and bringing them down in a unified, ceremonial motion.

  "Are they praying to me now? I appreciate the flattery, boys, but this is a bit much," Farrah quipped, genuinely baffled by the coordinated display.

  Then, they began to chant, their voices low and ritualistic:

  "Roses are red, the Word is my shield, to no earthly weapon shall our spirit yield…"

  As the chant grew louder, the busy street lights flickered and died. The ambient light of the Xing Long district was swallowed, and the entire area turned pitch-black, save for the faint, unholy glow emanating from the men’s eyes. A deep, guttural chorus of wolves howling echoed from the shadows.

  "Oh, you think they're losing? Nah, you're losing, too, my friend," Javier drawled, finally removing his hands from his pockets. "I hired these particular contractors because they know how to do one thing in common… They know how to call for something that can wipe the whole field."

  Farrah's eyes widened, the last piece of the puzzle clicking into place. Void Beasts… He found people who can summon Void Beasts!? she thought, recognizing the dangerous shift in the atmosphere.

  "…or loyalty to the speech will never kneel down, as we squat wipe this field. We give our lives as a price to offer, to make sure our opp will never prosper."

  Farrah instantly moved to break the ritual, lunging toward the nearest chanting man, but Javier quickly rushed in and tried to kick her, but she blocked it before throwing him to the side.

  "Javier, are you really going to sacrifice the lives of these men just to kill me?!" Farrah yelled, her voice laced with disbelief.

  Javier didn't even flinch, his expression completely flat. "They did volunteer to do it, and besides, they knew the risk before they summoned it in the first place." He pushed his lens-less glasses up his nose, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. "I have to say, I've never seen you this sentimental before."

  "With the weight of the heavens and this sacred treasure, we call forth the one who takes the opps’ measure…"

  Farrah knew the only way to stop the ritual was to eliminate the distraction—Javier—before dealing with the chanting men. She attacked him with a relentless, blinding barrage of strikes, aiming only to knock him away from the perimeter. Javier was excellent defensively, his training allowing him to parry and block, but Farrah's movements were so incredibly fast and unforgiving that he could barely keep up.

  She’s not trying to hurt me, but her movements are sharper than I've ever seen them, Javier thought, the wind of her punches stinging his face. If she were actually going for the kill, I'd be dead already. His arms and legs were already beginning to ache and bruise from what felt like simple 'love taps' from her augmented speed. Their hands met in a defensive parry, creating a shockwave that cracked all the nearby glass in the area.

  It was all the distraction the chanting men needed. Their bodies dissolved into the shadows, consumed by the encroaching darkness.

  The final words of the invocation—screaming, triumphant, and utterly profane—split the darkness:

  "We summon the Divine Streets General… BIG RAGA THE OPP STOPPA!"

  With that declaration, a colossal figure materialized where the chanting men had stood. It was a monstrous, hulking brute of a creature, easily eight feet tall, draped in muscle and darkness. Its head was covered by a tight shiesty mask, and a circular, eight-spoked dharmachakra wheel of crackling shadow-energy hovered above its head like a distorted, profane halo.

  The creature’s eyes—two glowing slits behind the mask—were fixed on Farrah. A bone-chilling, ear-to-ear grin stretched the fabric of the mask.

  "SUU-WOOP! Yeah, bitches! It’s Big Raga!" the creature roared, its voice a grating, deep-bass rumble that made the pavement vibrate.