The team entered the ancient structure beneath Kurakashi — its air thick, the walls lined with moss, and runes faintly glowing as if reacting to their presence.
Arisa led with a torch spell, its blue flame flickering across the carved stone. Arisa checked the seals along the ground.
"These markings… they're not just for defense. They're meant to contain something."
Suddenly, a strong gust blew through the corridor. A cloaked figure appeared at the far end, standing tall with glowing eyes beneath his hood. His voice echoed like it hadn't been used in years.
"You are trespassing. Speak your purpose."
Everyone stepped back, except Ren, who narrowed his eyes. "We're not here to steal. Just passing through."
The figure slowly approached, his presence suffocating.
"Lies. Many have come before with silver tongues. They all bled."
Arisa raised her hand. "Wait—please. We're exorcists from Sanctum City. We didn't know this was guarded."
The figure paused. A seal on his wrist flickered. He tilted his head.
"…Exorcists?"
He stepped back. For a moment, the air lightened.
"This chamber… was built to hold a vessel. Someone who would one day be used… to destroy who was ordered to stop anyone from disturbing this place."
Haruno whispered, "Vessel…?"
Ren's expression stayed unreadable.
The figure turned to the sealed door behind him. "If you came to protect the world, then I misjudged you. But know this—should the vessel stir… those who covet power will come."
Arisa stepped forward. "We don't want to be anything here just looking around the place.
The figure gave a slow nod.
"Then leave this place before I kill you all from trespressing iny guard."
As they turned to leave, Ren felt something… a pulse. Like a call from deep beneath.
He said nothing and turned.
Outside, Arisa asked, "Who was that guy?"
Ren simply replied, "A protector. Just like us."
Oh okay
Ren then looked away and walked fast than her without looking at her
As Ren sat down, staring at nothing, the weight of what just happened lingered in the air. He didn't know why those creatures kept calling out to him. Why they whispered his name like it meant something.
Haruno stormed over and grabbed him by the collar.
"What the hell is going on with you?" he snapped. "Why do all these dark monsters keep saying your name?! What are you hiding, Ren?!"
Ren looked up, a sad, tired anger in his eyes.
"I don't know, okay? What's your problem?"
Haruno's voice dropped, sharp and serious.
"You better not be a demon."
Ren's eyes widened. Sweat broke on his face.
"I'm not a demon."
"Oh yeah?" Haruno hissed. "Then why do you have that dark mark on your arm? You think I didn't notice it?"
Ren's expression twisted in confusion. He shoved Haruno's hand away.
"For the last time, I'm not a demon! That mark—it's just a birthmark! That's what I've always called it."
He didn't know where it came from. The truth was, it wasn't a birthmark. But it was the only thing he could tell himself to stay sane.
Arisa stepped between them, placing a firm hand on Ren's chest.
"Haruno, that's enough. Ren isn't a demon—and I trust him."
Souta approached, sword still in hand, eyes locked on Haruno.
"You wanna keep throwing blame like that, do it with facts. Not fear."
Haruno glared at them all, eyes sharp as blades.
"If I ever find out you're lying…" he pointed at Ren, "I'll kill you myself."
Everyone froze. The fire crackled in the silence. Even the night seemed to hold its breath.
Ren stood there, silent. Shocked. Maybe even hurt. He didn't speak, just clenched his fists and turned away.
Arisa reached for his arm, but he moved past her without a word.
He didn't need comfort right now.
He needed answers.
As Ren walked away into the forest near Kurakashi, the cold air wrapped around him like the doubt in his mind. He stopped beneath a towering tree, one hand gripping his face near his eye, trembling.
"What's happening to me…?" he muttered, shaking.
His mind raced—flashes of the first city, the moment he saw the mark on his arm. Back then, it wasn't red. It was something else. Something hidden.
He grit his teeth and unsheathed a small blade.
"I have to know."
Without hesitation, he drove it into his arm. Blood trickled down… but then, the blood didn't fall. It moved—twisting, swirling—shaping itself into a blade.
Ren stumbled back, eyes wide in horror.
"No… no, no, no…"
He collapsed to his knees, staring at the blood-forged sword in his hand, his voice breaking.
"I'm not a demon… I'm not a demon… I am NOT a demon…"
His hand reached instinctively for Shira's scarf wrapped around his neck, gripping it like a lifeline.
"Help me…" he whispered, tears trailing down his cheeks.
Then his eyes narrowed—an idea forming, dangerous and desperate.
"I have an idea…"
He raised the blood blade and struck at his arm again. But instead of pain, he felt resistance.
His skin had hardened—strong as steel. No wound. No blood. No mark.
Just… something wrong.
He dropped the blade, now trembling with both fear and rage. His knees buckled. His breathing was ragged.
White flecks started to appear in his hair. His muscles twitched, growing denser, more defined. Something inside was changing.
His voice cracked.
"What if… I really am a demon?"
A voice behind him answered.
"You're not, man."
Ren turned. Souta was there, stepping forward from the shadows.
Tears welled in Ren's eyes.
"Then look at me!"
Souta's eyes fell on the blood blade, then the unnatural shine on Ren's arm.
"Is that… the blood—?"
"Yes," Ren snapped. "It's what I wanted to show you at the hospital. I tried to cut it off! My skin—it's like metal now!"
He screamed in anguish, veins popping, face breaking.
"WHAT AM I?!"
Souta said nothing. Instead, he walked forward and, without warning, slapped Ren across the face.
Then pulled him into a hug.
"Ren. Stop. You're not a demon," Souta said firmly. "You have to stop blaming yourself and keep moving forward."
Ren broke. Tears fell freely as he gripped Souta back, eyes wide and wet.
Souta held him tighter. "It's okay… You're okay."
When the sobs slowed, Ren wiped his face and looked at his arm.
"But… what about this? I can't get rid of it…"
Without a word, Souta drew his blade and swung.
Ren's hand dropped to the ground—clean cut.
Both of them stared in disbelief… as the hand reformed instantly. A blood-forged hand, reshaped and pulsing… and the mark on his arm grew wider, wrapping higher up.
Ren stared, wide-eyed.
"What…?"
Souta sheathed his sword.
"Leave it. Let's go."
Ren didn't speak. He just nodded, quietly following Souta back toward the camp.
But the night…
The night wasn't over.