Nao stretched on his narrow dorm bed as pale sunlight spilled through the half-open window. The room was cramped, barely large enough for two desks and a pair of beds, but it had become his whole world since college began. His alarm clock beeped softly on the nightstand. He ignored it, staring at the cracked ceiling with tired, unfocused eyes.
College life was ordinary—too ordinary. Lectures, exams, noisy classmates, late nights. Nothing special. Nothing meaningful.
"Hey, Nao! Breakfast is getting cold!" his roommate shouted from the shared kitchen.
Nao sighed and pushed himself up. As he stood, his fingers brushed against the small stone resting beside his bed. He picked it up out of habit. The jagged stone was smooth despite its sharp edges, warm in his palm—almost as if it were alive. His father had given it to him before leaving for work one last time.
He slipped it into his pocket and stepped into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"You're staring into space again," his roommate teased while eating. "Thinking about your old man?"
Nao paused, then shrugged lightly. "Sometimes… I just wish I understood him more."
The words tasted bitter.
Later that day, Nao crossed the campus with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Students passed him in clusters, laughing, arguing, living normal lives. That was when it hit him.
A sudden chill crawled up his spine.
His skin prickled as if cold water had been poured into his veins. His steps slowed. His stomach tightened.
"Something's… wrong," he muttered.
The feeling grew stronger, pulling at him like an invisible thread. Without realizing it, Nao changed direction, weaving through students, cutting into narrow side streets where sunlight barely reached the ground.
Then he saw it.
A small, hunched figure lurked near the corner—a creature no taller than a child, with twisted limbs, jagged teeth, and glowing eyes. It moved with practice ease, slipping its hand into the pocket of Nao's friend, Kenji.
Coins clinked softly.
"A demon… here?" Nao whispered, fear and anger burning in his chest.
The dwarf demon noticed him too late. With a sharp hiss, it bolted down the alley, clutching the stolen money.
Nao didn't think. He reacted.
"Beast Dog—come!"
A low growl echoed through the alley. In a flash, his loyal companion materialized beside him, its form solidifying from shadow and light. Its fangs gleamed as it crouched, ready.
Together, they gave chase.
The world blurred as they ran, alleys twisting into darkness, the demon's presence leaving a foul trail behind it. The chase ended at a deserted warehouse, its broken windows rattling in the wind.
Inside, shadows coiled along the walls like living things.
The dwarf demon waited in the center, grinning.
Nao stepped forward, Beast Dog at his side, teeth bared. But instead of fear, the demon laughed—a deep, mocking sound.
With sudden, inhuman strength, it swung its arm.
The beast dog was hurled aside, crashing into stacked crates with a sickening thud.
"No!" Nao shouted, his heart pounding.
The demon reached into its pouch and flung the stolen coins into the air. They spun violently, accelerating until they screamed through space like bullets. Wood exploded. Concrete shattered. Steel bent.
Nao raised his arms, bracing himself.
Then—
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The coins stopped.
Each one is deflected with perfect precision.
A man stood between Nao and the demon, holding a large, ornate Japanese umbrella. The coins fell harmlessly to the ground, ringing softly as they rolled.
Nao stared in disbelief. "Who… who are you?"
The man turned slowly. His expression was calm, his eyes sharp yet burdened with sorrow. He lowered the umbrella, and with a smooth motion, unsheathed a gleaming sword hidden within its frame.
"My name is Takashi," he said. Then, more quietly, "I was a friend of your father."
Before Nao could speak, Takashi moved.
In a blink, he crossed the warehouse. The blade flashed once.
The dwarf demon split apart.
Coins erupted from its body, scattering across the floor in a metallic storm. Silence followed—thick and suffocating.
Nao trembled. "My… father?"
Takashi's grip tightened on the umbrella sword. "Your father fought bravely," he said. "He gave everything to protect mankind."
Nao stepped forward, desperate. "How? What happened? Please—tell me!"
Takashi turned away. "Some truths are not yet meant for you."
He sheathed the sword. With a soft metallic click, he walked into the shadows and vanished.
Nao fell to his knees among the scattered coins. His beast dog limped back, pressing close to him. The words echoed in his mind like a curse.
Your father died to protect mankind.
That night, silence filled Nao's home.
His grandfather noticed everything—the distant stare, the clenched fists, the weight hanging over the boy like a storm cloud.
One evening, the old man placed a weathered hand on Nao's shoulder.
"Your father carried our family's legacy as a demon hunter," he said. "If you want the truth of his death, you must walk his path. Join the Hunter Selection. Only there will you find answers."
Nao nodded slowly.
Two days later, he stood at the Hunter Selection Grounds—an abandoned plaza in the excluded district, near the Haunted Apartment. Broken streetlights flickered over cracked asphalt and rusted cars.
Nao tightened his grip on the stone in his pocket.
This was where the answers waited.
And where his ordinary life would end.