Okarun's blood ran cold.
He knew how this world worked—there were ears everywhere.
Every bird perched on a power line, every stray dog in an alley, could be an extension of the Control Devil.
"Ayase-san, we have to move. Now,"
Okarun whispered, his voice vibrating with the mechanical hum of the Turbo Devil.
"There's someone in this city... a woman named Makima. If she finds us before we find her, we're puppets."
"Puppets?"
Momo scoffed, though she stayed low, her psychic aura flickering.
"I've dealt with aliens who wanted to harvest my organs, Okarun. I think I can handle a lady in a suit."
"It's not like that! She controls anything she deems 'lesser' than herself,"
Okarun explained frantically.
"But... wait."
He stopped, his white hair bristling.
He felt the weight of a gaze—a heavy, crushing presence that seemed to descend from the very sky.
A woman stepped around the corner. She wore a crisp white shirt, a black tie, and a long trench coat.
Her red hair was braided neatly down her back, but it was her eyes—concentric yellow circles—that made Momo's skin crawl.
"You two don't belong here,"
Makima said, her voice terrifyingly calm.
"I can't hear your stories in the wind. I can't find your names in the records. You are... Not from this world… are you…"
She raised a finger, pointing it casually at Okarun.
"Down."
Okarun braced himself, expecting his lungs to collapse or his knees to buckle under the weight of her command.
He knew the stories—when Makima told you to do something, your very soul obeyed.
But nothing happened.
Okarun stayed standing. Momo didn't even flinch; she just looked annoyed.
"Hah?"
Momo stepped forward, her hand glowing.
"Who do you think you're talking to? I don't take orders from people who dress like they're going to a bank interview!"
Makima's head tilted slightly, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing her face.
For the first time in a long time, her power had failed.
Because Okarun and Momo were from a reality with entirely different spiritual laws, they didn't exist within her hierarchy.
To the Control Devil, they weren't "lesser"—they were "outsiders."
Okarun realized it instantly.
'She can't control us because we aren't part of her world's system!'
"Listen!"
Okarun stepped in front of Momo, his Turbo Devil form radiating a blue, ghostly exhaust.
"We know who you are. And we know what you want. But we don't want any part of your world. We just want to go back."
Makima lowered her hand, her expression returning to a hauntingly sweet smile.
"How fascinating. You aren't Devils, and you aren't Fiends. Yet you carry the essence of speed... and the girl carries a power that feels like the stars themselves."
She took a step closer, the air growing heavy.
"If I cannot command you, perhaps we can... negotiate. If you tell me where you came from, perhaps I can find a Devil with the spatial alignment to send you back."
"Don't listen to her, Okarun,"
Momo hissed.
"She feels worse than the Serpo."
"I know,"
Okarun whispered back, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"But she might be the only one who knows how to send us home."