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Chapter — Beneath the Scarlet Moon
That night was silent and freezing.
In the great modern bourgeois city, everything slept.
A type-A modern metropolis, crossed by suspended roads layered atop one another, intertwining in every direction and cleaving the city from end to end. A true masterpiece of futuristic urban design—cold, majestic, and imposing.
The night was black… and yet luminous.
A new moon reigned proudly in a clear sky, surrounded by vast clusters of stars. The wind blew in gentle gusts, a cold breeze capable of making anyone shiver. From the ground below, the beauty of the universe felt almost within reach.
A fairy-tale setting, nearly unreal, inviting one to lose themselves within it.
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It was almost time for Nine to enter the game.
"No need for your wind tricks… watch the expert."
He took a runner's stance—upright, perfectly balanced.
⟨ Nine Tails — Kitsune Form ⟩
Nine tails burst forth behind him. They began spinning like helicopter blades as he launched forward at staggering speed.
"This turf is mine."
He charged.
Again.
Faster.
Always faster.
Like a rocket, he tore through the entire zone without encountering the slightest resistance. Then, in an instant, he spotted a road higher than all the others.
There—his target.
The transporter.
Nine leapt.
A massive, excessive jump that allowed him to slam directly into the vehicle. The impact sent the truck reeling dangerously. At once, long claws erupted from his hands—razor-sharp, feline in nature.
With a single clean, precise motion, he shredded the transporter's structure, tearing open a wide breach.
But just as he was about to dive inside, a shiver ran down his spine.
He sprang backward.
A bubble of compressed air sliced through the space where he had been a fraction of a second earlier.
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A man emerged.
Slim. Elegant.
Blond hair, blue eyes. A gentleman-aristocrat's attire, a red cape flowing behind him, and in his hand, a rapier—worthy of a hero from another era.
Nine whistled mockingly.
"Oh?
Another A-class hero after Third Wonder…
Now we get the masked aristocrat."
The man remained impassive.
"Ho, ho.
You shall be the sole witness to your downfall.
Before a true blade of justice… I am the hero."
Nine curled his lips in disgust.
"A hypocrite… to a degree I never imagined.
Arrogant, too.
You make me sick."
He stepped forward calmly.
"Come. I'll crush you without even reaching my limits."
Once within range, he concluded coldly:
"Discount hero…
With all the respect I owe a fine blade, and the little I owe a hypocrite like you…
Let me show you what a real blade is.
Without arrogance, my dear."
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On a nearby rooftop, 63 leapt into the void.
Blood burst from his back, solidifying into bat-like wings that he spread instantly.
"I'm coming, sis.
The Scarlet Stone… we're taking it back."
He rose high into the air, gazing over the sleeping city. It didn't take long for him to locate the transporter.
Then he dove.
Faster.
And faster.
Toward the ground.
Toward the target.
⟨ Hemoglobin — Bloodthirsty Tornado ⟩
A vortex of blood formed around him, like a living drill. The rotation intensified until the final impact.
BOOM.
The crash was titanic. Debris rained down onto the lower road.
To the right, 63 and 36 lay on the ground, bound in chains.
With a simple gesture, 63 manipulated his blood to sever the restraints from a distance.
Freed, 36 immediately sprang onto her brother's back, clinging to him like a delighted child.
"You sure took your time coming to get me!
And they were mean too… really mean.
They should hurt."
She refused to let go.
63 advanced calmly toward Third Wonder, visible across from them.
Their blood condensed:
two mini-scythes for the brother,
a long, razor-sharp ribbon for the sister.
They walked forward together, bathed in the scarlet moonlight.
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On the same rooftop as before stood First, with Third at the center.
Third remained in reserve.
Suddenly, Aliss vanished.
In her place appeared a Nine of Spades ♤.
Her voice echoed through the night:
"That diadem they think they took from me…
already belongs to me."
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She reappeared before a gate, inside a park.
In an instant, she stood facing the road.
A few steps were enough to leave the park and reach the main avenue.
To her left, the transporter raced past at full speed.
At the last moment, it made a brutal turn, forcing First to follow it back toward the center of the park.
She stopped.
Just for an instant.
Then a violent force slammed her into the ground. A card slipped from her hand as she rolled toward the center.
Chains erupted and bound her.
Men emerged from behind the trees, surrounding her—the spellcasters.
The man who had struck her stepped forward.
His hand stopped just centimeters from her forehead.
Close enough for her draconic nature to resonate with his.
He did not injure her.
Instead, he pressed a sealing talisman onto her forehead.
"The Enclave of Torment."
Immediately, he stepped back.
A blood-red sphere engulfed First.
They exchanged one final glance.
She did not open her mouth…
but he could have sworn he heard two words, etched forever into his mind:
"Not bad."
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