The room smelled like cold steel and tired breath.
A dozen screens lit the walls, each showing something worse than the last — twitching aura scans, broken symbols, demon-code blackening into nonsense.
One tech stood up, face pale.
"This reading's not matching anything. Not Vetala. Not Contract class. Not even corrupted hellroot."
Another tech turned in her seat. "Then what is it?"
Silence.
Chetan stepped forward, coat dragging slightly behind him like a ghost that refused to let go.
"Zoom in on the waveform at timestamp 5:43," he said calmly.
They did.
The room darkened slightly as the image sharpened.
The energy spike looped once, then broke its own scale. The waveform split and folded — like it knew it was being watched.
"That's not a demon," someone whispered. "That's a mistake."
Chetan's jaw tightened.
"No," he said. "That's a warning."
He walked to the inner console and typed in his clearance manually.
No scans. No voice ID. Just fingers moving like he knew the system was scared too.
"Pull Rank 3 from standby," he said. "Now."
From the glass balcony above, Purush watched without blinking.
He didn't speak.
He hadn't spoken in weeks.
But when he leaned forward — slightly — Chetan noticed.
He looked up.
The Apex nodded once.
That was all the order Chetan needed.
A massive storage gate rolled open with a screech.
Steam hissed.
Two figures stood inside — side by side like trouble waiting to unfold.
The first wore a gold chain over a black coat, dual short blades strapped to his back. He tapped one rhythmically against his thigh, head bobbing.
Samar. Voice like caffeine. Eyes like a bee sting.
"Yo," he said, smiling. "You rang for fire with flavor?"
The second stretched like he'd just woken up from a nap he didn't earn.
Unbuttoned collar. Sandals. A grin too wide for any normal man.
Vaibhav. Flirt. Fool. Genius.
He yawned, scratched his head.
"So... demon trouble? Is she single?"
"You're heading to Zone 4M," Chetan said, not smiling. "You'll find something there. Probably not from this world."
Samar cracked his neck.
"Say less. I'll freestyle it."
Vaibhav blew a kiss to no one in particular.
Then he looked up.
And just for a second — behind the lazy smirk — his eyes sharpened. Like a blade peeking through bedsheets.
He saw the map. The readings.
And under his breath, he muttered:
"That's not demon math."
Then louder, smiling again:
"Alright! Time to go look cool and possibly die!"
Wind kicked up dust as two shadowy blurs dashed across the cracked wasteland.
One moved like precision — feet slicing the sand in smooth rhythm, shoulders steady, head locked forward.
That was Samar.
The other bounced beside him like a drunk god on a joyride.
That was Vaibhav.
"You know what the best part of emergency missions is?"
Samar didn't answer.
"I don't gotta sneak my magazines past HQ sensors. Just roll 'em up and tuck 'em under my chest plate. Genius."
Samar sighed.
"I swear, one day those magazines will kill you faster than a demon."
Vaibhav grinned. "Worth it."
He tapped the side of his bag.
"Vol. 47: 'Angels in Aprons.' Limited run. I laminated it."
"Vol. 23: 'Blood & Blush' — signed by the model. Don't ask how."
"And the legendary Vol. 9? Banned in four Orders. Still in mint condition."
He winked at Samar.
"I'm not a demon hunter. I'm a collector of culture."
I kept running.
Didn't break stride. Didn't reply.
"Focused minds keep demons blind," I said out loud, letting the words rhyme naturally.
"While you quote your pin-up lines, I'm dodging timelines."
"I rhyme in bed," Vaibhav said.
"You sleep alone."
"I sleep with art."
They stopped just above the crater where Shaan and the eight remaining Rank 6s were catching their breath.
Samar crouched, eyes scanning the zone like a hawk over fire.
Vaibhav casually unwrapped a protein bar, took a bite, and waved at the stunned recruits below.
"Yo!"
One of them — still bleeding — just blinked.
Samar stood tall, blades drawn.
"You Rank 6s, fall back from the mix," he said calmly, voice like a slow drumbeat.
"Not 'cause you're weak — but 'cause this one's sick."
I saw them arrive and felt the shift in weight immediately.
Samar looked like calm death.
Vaibhav looked like a clown with a secret.
"Who are they?" someone whispered.
I answered without thinking.
"Elites."
I dropped down beside a red-haired rookie trying not to pass out.
She blinked at me.
I winked.
"Hey, do demons respond better to cleavage or confidence? Asking for a... tactical spreadsheet."
She slapped my arm.
I laughed.
He stepped forward, eyes on the demon.
Still standing.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
Samar clicked his neck once. Unlocked his twin blades.
Vaibhav tossed his snack aside and cracked his knuckles.
For once, no jokes.
Just steel.
The demon stood at the center of the crater, body twitching like an old film skipping frames. Its eyes glowed faint blue — but not like flame. Like math gone bad.
Samar cracked his neck once.
Vaibhav smirked, tossed his coat behind him, and drew his weapon:
A folding polearm he called "Thirstbreaker."
Because of course he did.
I always warm up with a joke.
Loosens the hips. Keeps the fear in check.
"Hey ugly!" I shouted.
The demon turned. Tilted its head.
"You into older women with swords and trauma? Asking for a colleague."
No response. Rude.
I activated my Mirror Trick Array — four projections burst around me instantly, all dressed differently.
One in lingerie. One in traditional armor. One holding a menu.
Each of them winked.
While he distracted the thing with anime-grade nonsense, I moved.
Technique: Slice Tempo – Beat One.
Left foot lands. Blade arcs right. Time slows by 0.3 seconds in a ten-foot cone.
I cut once.
The air folded — a sonic curve of slowed time slipped into the demon's ribs.
It staggered.
"Now!" I shouted.
Vaibhav leaped midair.
His polearm split into three.
He spun it into a Drunken Windwheel — a move he stole from an Ashva martial manual he only read for the pictures.
"Technique: Divine Recoil — Position 69."
"Weapon Mode: Perversion Lance!"
He yelled it proudly. Too proudly.
He landed.
And the demon —
grabbed the pole mid-spin.
"Oh… that's new."
The thing didn't flinch. Just twisted my weapon sideways.
It absorbed the recoil wave I'd built into the strike.
Like it knew the move.
I backflipped out before it could snap my spine.
"You ever get that feeling like your ex already knows your lies before you say them?"
Something's off.
Its feet aren't syncing with shadow placement.
The dust around its legs isn't kicking in sync.
"This bastard… isn't aligned with now."
I hit it again — Beat Two. Slowed time more. Just enough to slide my second blade under its arm.
Blood sprayed.
Good.
Then it vanished.
It reappeared behind me — slammed me through a tree I didn't even see.
Pain in my ribs.
That one was real.
I lay there, coughing, watching it walk like it was checking what hurt us most.
"I think this guy... reads spoilers."
Samar lunged again.
Technique: Dual Tempo Drive – 3rd Layer Cut.
Both blades split into afterimages — a combo that erased local memory of his next strike.
It didn't work.
The demon turned at the exact right moment.
And hit him in mid-attack.
Samar flew back, blood trailing.
Vaibhav, bruised and grinning, limped up beside him.
"You good?"
"Shut up."
They stood.
"I got one last trick," Vaibhav muttered.
He activated a small box on his belt — his Domain Distorter.
It created a 3-second hallucination loop. The enemy would think it won — and drop its guard.
They launched a final, full-power strike together.
The demon didn't fall for it.
It matched the hallucination perfectly.
It moved as if it had already fought them.
Like it remembered this.
Samar hit the ground hard, bleeding from the chest.
Vaibhav coughed once, leaned on his polearm.
"Okay," he whispered.
"Little less sexy now."
Samar's twin blades were half-buried in the dirt.
One snapped. The other coated in his own blood.
Vaibhav coughed beside him, bruised ribs heaving with every breath.
The demon didn't press the attack.
It stood in the center of the crater — head tilted, arms limp, like a puppet between strings.
And then it whispered:
"This isn't… the right now."
I watched it carefully, blood coating my tongue.
The bastard was... confused?
I tried to stand. My legs gave out.
Vaibhav muttered beside me, "Why's it acting like we're the glitch?"
The sun is wrong.
The coordinates are young.
These humans are not ready.
"I came too early," it whispered aloud.
Its body cracked slightly — not from damage, but from timeline stress. One arm twitched. Then vibrated. Then flickered in and out of visibility like a bad signal.
The earth beneath it began to pulse — like it was rejecting its presence.
Shaan saw the rift before it opened.
He saw four futures where it shattered the field.
Three where it said nothing.
And one — only one — where it spoke a name.
A tear in reality split open behind the demon — not fire, not shadow — a hole of absence, like the world had forgotten how to fill that space.
The demon looked back at the others.
Then it locked eyes with Shaan.
And smiled.
"I shouldn't be here.
But he will be."
"Remember this moment."
"Mark this crack in the world."
"And above all…"
"HAIL KOUSHIK. THE DEMON KING."
The rift swallowed the demon whole.
Then it closed.
Just… snapped shut.
The sky returned to normal.
But nothing felt the same.
No one moved. No one spoke.
Not even the wind dared to answer that name.
Samar lay on his back, eyes open, chest rising slow and steady.
Vaibhav leaned on one arm, dust and blood drying into his hair. He spat metal-tasting saliva into the dirt.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Until someone whispered:
"Did it just say… Koushik?"
Shaan felt the shift.
Not in the air.
In the probabilities.
The demon wasn't saying that name like a threat.
It said it like a truth already lived.
"Koushik? Executioner Koushik? From our own org?"
Samar nodded once, slowly.
"That's him," he said, voice hoarse. "Black coat. Fights for money. Smiles like knives."
Vaibhav chuckled dryly, clutching his ribs.
"That guy once sold me my own knife back at a card table
Inside a darkened chamber, deep in VEIL's inner sanctum, Koushik sat in silence.
Alone.
His coat draped over a steel chair. A cigarette burned slowly in one hand.
His eyes had been shut for an hour.
Until now.
They opened.
No glow. No special effect.
But something was gone behind them.
Or maybe something had arrived.