Chapter 33 — The Flames the World Was Never Meant to See
"...Authorities in Washington are still refusing to provide an official explanation regarding last night's incident."
The journalist's voice echoed across the screen.
Shaky footage recorded by civilians played on the television: a building suspended in midair, violet explosions tearing through the night sky, glowing silhouettes impossible to identify, then gigantic crystal pillars piercing through the streets of Washington.
The reporter swallowed nervously.
— "Several witnesses are speaking about… monsters… or individuals capable of flying. The government is currently referring to the event as a possible terrorist attack involving unknown military technology."
Another video appeared.
Blurry.
Unstable.
But clear enough to reveal a silhouette surrounded by crimson flames.
Then the screen suddenly glitched.
BZZZT.
The television shut off.
Silence immediately fell over the infirmary.
Yojuro lay on his bed, still holding the remote loosely in his hand.
His gray eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
— "...This is going to become a huge problem."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Morning light softly filtered through the infirmary's white curtains. The scent of medicine and medicinal herbs lingered in the air.
Sitting beside the bed, a small black-haired girl awkwardly held a bowl of instant noodles in her hands.
Haruka.
When Yojuro slightly turned his head toward her, he recognized her immediately.
— "...Why is she here?"
Haruka puffed her cheeks slightly.
— "Hey! I wanted to check on you!"
— "You spilled burning noodles on me the first time we met."
— "It was an accident!"
— "You also screamed before running away."
— "I panicked!"
Yojuro let out a faint sigh.
— "Incredible."
Haruka looked away awkwardly.
— "Well... you were terrifying too with that empty stare."
— "I'm still terrifying."
— "...Fair point."
Then—
BAM.
The door burst open violently.
Zayn entered the room with the energy of a human missile.
— "HOLY SHIT YOJURO YOU'RE ALIVE OOOOH!"
He instantly pointed at the bed.
— "I thought you were dead for sure!"
Yojuro stared at him expressionlessly.
— "Good morning to you too."
Then Zayn's eyes landed on Haruka.
He blinked.
— "Whoa... who's that?"
Yojuro answered calmly:
— "Haruka."
Then he pointed toward Zayn.
— "And that's Zayn."
A brief silence followed.
Haruka timidly raised her hand.
— "Hi..."
Zayn casually raised his hand too.
— "Yo."
Then immediately:
— "Wait, how come you get normal people visiting you while all I get are debts and trauma?"
— "Because you scare people."
— "WHAT?!"
The door opened once again.
This time more gently.
Cynthia entered the room with her arms crossed.
Her long hair shifted slightly with the breeze.
She silently observed Yojuro for a few seconds before discreetly exhaling.
As if relieved.
— "Wow... sorry for the interruption."
Then she slightly looked away.
— "But I'm glad you're not dead, Yojuro."
Zayn instantly raised an eyebrow.
— "Ooooh."
Cynthia shot him a deadly glare.
— "What do you mean 'ooooh'?"
— "Nothing, nothing. I'm just noticing things."
— "Do you want to die?"
— "Not today, thanks."
Yojuro watched the scene without any visible reaction.
But deep inside…
Something was still moving within the darkness of his mind.
A voice.
A distant laugh.
Lucifer.
Then—
The story abruptly shifted elsewhere.
Far from Washington.
Far from humanity.
In the middle of a vast golden desert scorched by the sun stood a hidden city.
An entire civilization built from sand and ancient stone.
Thousands of Djinn lived there.
Children ran through the marketplaces.
Warriors patrolled the streets.
Glowing red symbols covered certain buildings like mystical protections.
And at the center of the city…
An immense palace towered over everything.
On a gigantic white stone balcony, Merela silently gazed over the city.
The hot wind made her long dark dress flutter.
Her eyes were fixed on the horizon.
Calm.
Melancholic.
Dangerous.
Then she softly spoke:
— "...Only one remains for the mission."
Behind her, several Djinn immediately knelt without saying a word.
Then—
Back at the UAP.
Inside a cold room illuminated by white neon lights.
The place where bodies were prepared before being transferred to the Paladins' funeral ceremonies.
Azel stood motionless before a metallic table.
Beside him stood Arthur D. Blackthorne.
The leader of the Paladins.
His cold gaze silently observed the body covered beneath a white sheet.
Arthur spoke calmly:
— "Show me the body."
An employee responsible for the corpses nervously stepped forward.
Then he slowly pulled back the sheet.
The silence became heavy.
Yamos' body was there.
Or rather, what remained of it.
Charred.
Burned down to the bone.
Traces of unnatural flames still crawled across his blackened skin.
Even in death…
His face remained frozen in terror.
Arthur silently observed the corpse for several seconds.
Then his gaze shifted toward Azel.
— "...No traces of ordinary Fumetsu."
Azel slowly nodded.
— "Those flames resemble nothing we know."
A brief silence followed.
Then Azel finally spoke the words nobody wanted to hear:
— "Yojuro truly is the vessel of the Millennium King of the Djinn."
Even the air itself seemed to grow heavier.
Even the employee instinctively stepped backward.
Yet Arthur remained perfectly calm.
Then…
A faint smile appeared on his face.
— "I see."
He slowly put his black gloves back on.
Then he looked toward the distant lights of Washington through the window.
— "This generation of future Paladins…"
His smile widened slightly.
— "...will be interesting."