The world had fractured into suspended violence. Ice shards hung midair, glinting like cursed diamonds. A whip of fire froze in a half-arc, its heat a promise that had never fulfilled. In the center, Genrou and Rei were statues of intent, muscles coiled, weapons ready—yet nothing could fall. Nothing moved.
Ren's pulse thundered in his ears. The air didn't stop him; he could breathe, could feel the rough concrete under his palms. But the psychic weight pressing down on him made the hall feel smaller, tighter, suffocating.
He recognized the signature of the power before him—a manipulation of perception, of time's flow. He had felt it once, that rainy night in the alley, when shadows had danced against the city's neon.
A single sound cut through the stasis: a sharp click of heels on shattered concrete.
She appeared at the ruined entrance, moving with calculated elegance. Aya Mihara. Gone was the schoolgirl uniform; in its place, a black Hive combat suit hugged her like armor. Her hair was immaculate. Her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach the eyes, and in her hand pulsed a small metallic orb, a cyan heartbeat suspended in the air. The source of the frozen tableau.
"Now, now, boys," she said, her voice slicing the silence like a blade. "All this drama, and you didn't even send an invitation."
She walked around Rei and Genrou as if examining specimens.
"Genrou Soji, the Endless Blade. What a privilege. And Rei… my, busy little god-killer." She paused beside Ren. His golden eye widened, a mix of awe and betrayal frozen on his face. "Hello, Ren. You look like you've seen a ghost. Or… just me."
Aya knelt, her gaze locking with his. "I told you the world would never be the same. I just didn't tell you I was the one holding the paintbrush."
Before Ren could speak, a second figure emerged—silent, deliberate. Lume, the Disciple, her hood lowered to reveal the pale, unreadable face he remembered from the apartment. Her eyes were fixed on Rei, not him.
Aya followed her gaze. "The Great Mother is displeased, Rei. You were supposed to retrieve the asset, not indulge in family therapy." Her chin gestured toward Ren.
"She doesn't want him dead. She wants him awakened. And you… you were supposed to be the catalyst, not the wrecking ball."
Then she tossed the orb. Time snapped.
The hall erupted. Rei's fire and ice, freed from the frozen target, collided with Genrou's deflection in a deafening explosion. Concrete splintered, dust surged, and Ren skidded across the floor, black veins crawling across his skin. The mask itched, a fragment of the Oni trying to reassemble.
Genrou pushed up first, eyes burning with controlled fury. "You…" he snarled at Aya. Recognition laced his tone.
Rei rose slowly, mask askew, face unreadable. His gaze landed on Aya and Lume. A low growl emanated from his chest, calm but dangerous. "You dare… interfere?"
"We dare what the Great Mother commands," Aya replied, unflinching. "Your vendetta is secondary. The child," she gestured at Ren, "is the primary objective.
And look at him—half-formed, volatile. Perfect."
Lume moved, silent, producing a vial from her belt—the greenish shimmer of the Hive's poison. The air thickened with metallic ozone as the scent reached Ren.
The Hunger roared. Veins blackened, mask fragment flickered, claws of shadow curling around him instinctively.
"Stay away!" Ren's voice cracked, but his body betrayed him, trembling with the pull of the poison.
"But Ren," Aya cooed, mocking sympathy, "we're only helping you finish what we started. That poison—it wasn't meant to kill you. It attuned your Yuno Organ. It made you receptive. It's why you survived. Why you're strong. And now… it's time for the final step."
Lume uncorked the vial. Greenish mist drifted toward him. Ren's shadow erupted in instinctive defense, jagged tendrils slicing the air, but his body's desire for the toxin made the pull of the Hunger almost irresistible.
Rei moved—not toward Ren, but like a shadow storm, he bypassed Aya and Lume, seizing the vial. His fingers closed around it, examining the poison like a weapon turned toy.
"An interesting concoction," he said. "I think I'll take this."
Aya's composure cracked. "Rei! That is Hive property!"
Rei held the vial aloft, gaze sweeping to Ren, then Genrou. "The Hive sought to use me. Now I will use their tools. This changes nothing between us, Grandfather. Only makes our war… more interesting."
With a swirl of black moths, Rei vanished. The vial disappeared with him.
Silence returned. The immediate threat dissolved, but a more insidious one had emerged.
Aya glared at the empty hall, fury coiled like a blade. Her perfect plan lay in ruins. She turned to Genrou, and then to Lume.
"Retreat," she spat. "This round is lost."
As they disappeared into shadow, Genrou knelt beside Ren. His grandson shuddered, mask fragment twitching, Hunger still howling in his veins—but the trigger was gone.
Ren's chest heaved. The poison, the Hive's manipulation, the looming shadow of Rei—all of it hung over him. They hadn't killed him, hadn't even captured him. But they had planted seeds. Seeds that only Rei could now cultivate.
And Ren realized, with a shiver, that the most dangerous man in the world now held the Hive's tools.