The Ancient-class signature stopped moving three blocks away.
Watching. Waiting.
"It's not attacking," Master Yamada observed. "Just... observing."
I enhanced perception with fused abilities. Saw the signature clearly through spiritual sight—massive, complex, layered with defensive techniques. Not a wild Specter. Something refined. Controlled.
Professional.
"Ghost Slayer," I said. "That's not a Specter. That's human. Or mostly human."
"Containment Master Fujimoto," Kasumi said quietly. "He's here."
We moved to defensive positions automatically. Weapons ready. Bounded fields activated. Every sense straining.
But nothing happened.
The signature just... waited. Three blocks away. Perfectly still.
"What's he doing?" Kenta asked.
"Psychological warfare," Master Yamada said. "Letting us know he's found us. Building tension. Waiting for us to make a mistake."
The Ghost Stomach stirred with frustrated hunger. It wanted to attack. Wanted to consume. But even it recognized the danger—that signature was powerful. Dangerously powerful.
Then I felt it. A second signature. Smaller. More subtle. Moving through the warehouse district toward us.
Not Fujimoto. Someone else.
"We have a scout," I said. "Closing from the northwest. Human. Moderate spiritual signature."
"Kill or capture?" Takeshi asked, arrow nocked.
Before Kasumi could answer, the scout stepped into view. Young woman, maybe mid-twenties, dressed in practical traveling clothes. No visible weapons. Her spiritual signature was... strange. Not hostile exactly, but sharp. Focused.
Predatory.
"Found you," she said calmly. Smiled. "The Demon Eater. You're smaller than the reports suggested."
"Who are you?"
"Miyako. Oni Hunter Division, Ghost Slayer Corps." She bowed slightly. "Specialty: tracking and psychological profiling of hostile entities. Master Fujimoto requested I assess your threat level before full engagement."
"So you're bait," I said. "Seeing if I'll attack a lone target."
"Partially. But mostly I'm here to talk." She sat down on a broken crate, completely relaxed despite being surrounded. "You're an interesting case. Specter-human hybrid with apparent moral constraints. Consumes entities but shows selective restraint. Protects allies. Demonstrates tactical thinking."
"Your point?"
"My point is you're not the mindless predator the Ghost Slayers believe you to be." She leaned forward. "Which creates an opportunity. For both of us."
Kasumi's hand moved to her sword. "Careful, Ryan. This is manipulation."
"Of course it is." Miyako smiled. "But that doesn't make it false. Master Fujimoto has twelve specialists ready to purge this entire district. Estimates sixty-percent civilian casualties if full assault proceeds. You don't want that. I don't want that. So let's talk alternatives."
"Like what?"
"Surrender. Voluntarily submit to containment. In exchange, we guarantee safe passage for your allies and zero civilian casualties." She gestured at the others. "They walk away. You get humane treatment. Everyone lives. Simple."
"Except me," I said. "Containment means dissection. Study. Eventually elimination."
"Eventually, yes. But you'd buy time. Months, maybe years. Time to negotiate better terms. Time to prove you're valuable rather than dangerous." She stood. "The alternative is Master Fujimoto unleashes a strike team that levels six city blocks and kills everyone in them. Including you. Including your friends. Including hundreds of civilians."
The Ghost Stomach raged against the suggestion. Surrender was unacceptable. Submission meant death.
"How do I know Fujimoto will honor those terms?" I asked.
"You don't. But I will." Her expression turned serious. "I'm Oni Hunter Division. We track, we assess, we capture when possible. We don't massacre civilians. If you surrender, I guarantee their safety personally."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I relay that information to Master Fujimoto, and the purge begins in one hour." She checked the sky. "Sun's position suggests you have until approximately noon. After that..." She shrugged. "Well. You've seen what happens when Ghost Slayers decide something needs elimination."
Silence.
Everyone looking at me. Waiting for decision.
The Ghost Stomach was howling. Demanding I reject the offer. Demanding I fight, consume, survive at any cost.
But Miyako was right about one thing—a full Ghost Slayer assault would kill thousands. And I couldn't protect everyone while fighting Fujimoto's team.
"I need time to think," I said.
"You have thirty minutes." Miyako turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing. Master Fujimoto asked me to mention—he knows about Grand Master Kurosawa. Knows about the False Night Parade. Knows you're investigating it."
I felt everyone tense.
"He wants the same thing you do," Miyako continued. "Kurosawa stopped. The conspiracy eliminated. But he can't move openly—political complications, organizational loyalties. You, however..." She smiled. "You're unaffiliated. Expendable. Perfect for doing the work officially sanctioned Ghost Slayers cannot."
"You're offering alliance?"
"I'm offering pragmatic cooperation. You hunt Kurosawa's positioned Specters. We don't hunt you. When the False Night Parade is prevented, we renegotiate your status." She paused. "Or you refuse, we eliminate you now, and Kurosawa proceeds unopposed. Your choice."
She left before I could respond.
The moment she disappeared, Kasumi exploded. "It's a trap. Obviously. They're trying to make you lower your guard."
"Maybe," Master Yamada said slowly. "But what she said about Fujimoto makes sense. The Ghost Slayer organization is compromised—we know Kurosawa has agents embedded throughout. Fujimoto might genuinely need external assets to counter the conspiracy."
"Or he's part of it," Takeshi countered. "Using Ryan as bait to draw out other conspirators."
Kenta was quiet. Then: "Does it matter? If Fujimoto attacks, we die. If we fight, civilians die. If we run, we achieve nothing and Kurosawa wins." He looked at me. "The only option that advances our objectives is cooperation. Even if it's temporary."
They were all looking at me again.
Decision point.
I pushed [Psychic Defense] outward. Felt Miyako's signature three blocks away, rejoining Fujimoto. Felt the massive Ancient-class presence that was the Containment Master himself—patient, calm, absolutely confident.
And behind them, scattered throughout the city, I felt dozens of other signatures. Ghost Slayer specialists, all converging on this district. The purge was real. The threat genuine.
The Ghost Stomach wanted to fight. Wanted to consume them all. Believed we could win.
But I wasn't sure anymore. Not against these numbers. Not with civilians in the crossfire.
"We cooperate," I said finally. "Temporarily. Keep investigating Kurosawa while nominally working with Fujimoto. Gather intelligence. When we understand the full scope of the conspiracy..."
"Then we decide whether to honor the alliance or betray it," Kasumi finished. "Risky. But tactical."
"I don't like it," Takeshi said. "Trusting Ghost Slayers feels like suicide."
"We're not trusting them. We're using them." I stood. "Miyako wants a response? Tell her we accept provisional cooperation. But the moment Fujimoto moves against us, the deal is void and I start consuming everything in sight."
"That's your negotiating position?" Master Yamada asked with slight amusement.
"It's honest. They'll respect that more than false promises." I activated [Shadow Stealth] and faded from visibility. "I'm going to scout Fujimoto's position. See what we're actually dealing with."
"Ryan, wait—"
I was already gone.
I moved through the warehouse district like smoke. [Shadow Stealth] fused with [Rapid Movement], becoming nearly undetectable. Found Miyako's position easily—she was standing in an open courtyard, deliberately visible.
And beside her, the Containment Master.
Fujimoto was older than expected. Sixty, maybe seventy. But his spiritual presence was overwhelming—decades of refinement, countless battles, absolute mastery of supernatural suppression techniques.
He was talking with Miyako. I couldn't hear the words, but I could read their spiritual signatures through [Psychic Defense].
Miyako: Calculating. Strategic. Genuinely interested in peaceful resolution.
Fujimoto: Cold. Analytical. But not hostile. Not yet.
He wanted cooperation. Actually wanted it. Miyako hadn't been lying.
But underneath his calm exterior, I felt something else. Something familiar.
Fear.
Not of me. Of something else. Something bigger.
Grand Master Kurosawa.
Fujimoto was terrified of what Kurosawa was planning. Desperate enough to ally with a Specter-human hybrid he was supposed to eliminate.
The conspiracy was worse than any of us knew.
I retreated before they could detect me. Returned to the warehouse.
"Well?" Kasumi asked.
"Miyako was telling the truth. Fujimoto wants cooperation. He's scared of Kurosawa." I paused. "We accept the alliance. But we stay ready to betray it the moment it becomes liability."
"Pragmatic," Master Yamada approved. "When do we meet?"
"Now. Before anyone changes their mind."
We moved as a group toward the courtyard. Weapons visible but lowered. Professional courtesy between enemies considering temporary alliance.
Fujimoto watched us approach with calm assessment.
"The Demon Eater," he said. His voice was deep, controlled. "You're more rational than reported."
"You're more desperate than expected," I replied.
He smiled slightly. "Fair. Yes, I'm desperate. Kurosawa is planning something catastrophic. I need it stopped. You need to survive. Our interests align."
"Temporarily."
"Temporarily," he agreed. "So let's discuss terms."
The Ghost Stomach settled into wary acceptance.
This alliance wouldn't last. Couldn't last.
But for now, it served our purposes.
And when it inevitably collapsed?
Well.
I'd just make sure I was strong enough to consume everyone who betrayed me.