Tokyo, Japan.
At Tokyo University, Gakuen-sai's night.
June 18th, 2026
9:12 PM 23° Celsius/73.4 Fahrenheit
The wind howled through the skeletal remains of a ruined plaza, swirling dust and blood in the air. Steel clashed. Gunfire echoed. Death loomed.
Ray stood—barely. Blood leaked from a bullet wound in his thigh, his breathing labored. Before him stood three figures cloaked in menace:
Ryuji Takahashi, his twin sais gleaming with fresh blood.
Maria Tachibana, calm and elegant with her katana dripping crimson.
And the masked woman, now armed with an AR-15, her fox-shaped pink mask grinning.
"Had your fun with my little chaos?" The woman purred, her tone laced with mockery.
Ray's eyes narrowed.
"So it was you behind that madness." Ray said.
"Guilty," she giggled.
"The look on your face when that.....superstar, Akane-chan? Felt immense fear." She mocked Ray.
"Bitch," Ryuji growled, stepping forward.
"Let me kill him already." He added, his eyes furious.
Maria's blade tapped against a loose stone as she stepped closer.
"We end this now." She said.
Ray braced himself, silent and focused.
The suddenly...
The woman fired first—short, sharp bursts.
*bang
*bang
*bang
Ray rolled sideways, one bullet grazing his arm. Ryuji launched in with a brutal flurry—slashes, stabs, twisting blows. Ray deflected the first few with raw instinct, but his wounds slowed him.
Maria was there instantly. Her blade slashed deep into his side. He grunted. Then came a spinning backhand from Ryuji's sai, cracking his jaw. Blood sprayed.
Still, Ray fought—parrying, dodging, retaliating with jagged fists and sudden kicks. He disarmed the woman momentarily, sending her rifle skidding away.
But she didn't hesitate.
She drew a knife—a crimson butterfly etched into its handle.
Ray's eyes widened in horror.
"That blade…" he gasped. "Where did you get that?"
"A gift from my boss. Miss me?" she whispered, stepping closer.
And then—
She plunged the blade into his side. Deep. Twisting.
Ray groaned, his voice guttural and broken. Blood poured from the wound like a faucet.
He staggered back, choking on his own breath.
The mysterious and masked woman? Could it be she was Queenswoman before? Ray thought, while he was bleeding.
Ray fell to his knees, coughing blood. His vision flickered. Ryuji wasted no time—his boot slammed into Ray's chest, knocking him down hard onto the stone.
"You're just a man," Ryuji sneered. "A broken, pathetic man bleeding out in the dirt."
Ray tried to rise. Failed. His body convulsed.
Maria stepped forward, her katana dripping. "You were the Devil"
"You're a corpse waiting to happen." Maria scoffed, disappointed by Ray.
The woman crouched beside him, touching the blood on his cheek.
"You should've minded your own business." she whispered.
"You shouldn't fight other people's fight.... instead, this? For what?" She added.
Ray coughed, blood splattering the ground.
"To bury you all." Ray muttered.
She smirked. "Not this time."
Maria swung her katana down—slashing across his chest. Blood erupted. He howled.
Ryuji followed with a jab to his ribs. Bone cracked. Another kick. Another stab.
Ray was collapsing, piece by piece—dying inch by inch.
But even now—
His eyes still burned.
The fire hadn't gone out.
Maria raised her blade for the final strike.
And then—
"That's enough."
A voice.
Powerful. Calm. Icy.
Everyone turned.
Kojima-sama stepped out of the shadows, surrounded by a swarm of Yakuza soldiers, rifles ready, forming a circle around the battleground like a tightening noose.
"The Mistress wouldn't want her prize slaughtered by you three idiots," Kojima said, stepping closer.
"She wants him alive. Not half-dead." Kojima added.
The three attackers froze.
Ryuji clenched his fists. Rage twisted his face.
"He killed my fucking family!" he spat.
"You want him alive?! For what?" Ryuji added.
"That's not your orders, Takahashi-kun. You should know better." Kojima said.
The woman tilted her head toward Kojima, amused. "He's fun when he's broken, don't you think?"
"He's not broken yet," Kojima said.
"But I will take care of that personally." He added.
He gestured to his men.
"Apprehend him."
But Ray—
Ray wasn't done.
Despite the blood, the wounds, the broken bones—he stood. Shaking. Growling.
His gaze locked on Kojima.
"You…" Ray rasped. "You're mine."
With a guttural roar, Ray charged.
Kojima didn't flinch.
He simply moved—and vanished.
In a blink, he appeared beside Ray, sheathed katana touching Ray's neck.
"Stop this nonsense," he muttered.
But Ray spun, fist flying—only to be intercepted by Kojima's palm. A burst of force sent Ray staggering backward.
Kojima didn't draw his blade. He didn't need to.
The Yakuza surged.
Dozens charged at once.
Ray roared and tore through them—bone-crushing punches, blinding elbows, blood spraying like rain. One man's head smashed into pavement. Another's throat crushed beneath Ray's boot.
Then—
Ryuji leapt in.
Steel clashed. Flesh tore. Ryuji and Ray danced in a frenzy of hate—sais carving up Ray's back while Ray drove his knuckles into Ryuji's face, teeth breaking.
Maria followed. Her katana slashed Ray's shoulder, but Ray retaliated with a violent kick to her ribs, sending her flying into a parked truck.
Gunfire erupted. Ray ducked, twisted, grabbed a Yakuza's rifle—and used it to bash two others to death.
The woman with the crimson knife stood beside Kojima, silent.
"He's really the Devil," she whispered.
Kojima didn't answer. He simply watched—expression unreadable—as Ray fought like a beast, a blood-soaked demon refusing to die.
Even as his body failed him—
His devilish wrath didn't.
Not yet.
Not ever.