So, let me get this straight," Silas said, staring at a plastic-wrapped triangle of rice. "This is 'Onigiri,' and it costs one hundred and fifty... Yen?"
"Yes, and stop trying to pay for it with gold coins," Elara hissed, pulling her oversized hoodie further over her head. She had managed to swipe a pair of tinted sunglasses and a baggy denim jacket. "I told you, people here use paper or 'invisible' money. Just let me use the 'Glamour' on the cashier."
Silas looked down at his own outfit a black leather jacket that barely contained his Hera-broad shoulders and a pair of dark jeans. He looked like a runaway rockstar, especially with the white hair he'd tucked into a beanie.
"I feel like a commoner," Silas grumbled, but his eyes softened as he looked at Elara. Despite the lack of mana, she looked... vibrant. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? The 'dating' part."
"It's better than being hunted in a basement," she admitted, smiling as she grabbed two sodas. "For one hour, Silas, you aren't the Aether-Lord. You're just a guy who's bad at math."
They walked through the Shibuya Crossing, the busiest intersection in the world. To the mortals, it was a Tuesday night. To Silas, it was a battlefield.
Twitch.
The black rot on Silas's arm pulsed. "They're here," he whispered, his hand instinctively moving toward Elara's waist.
"The Exiles?"
"And their pets."
From the rooftops of the department stores, three figures leaped. They didn't fall like humans; they glided on wings of smoke and purple fire. These were the Exile Assassins half-demon, half-mercenary, armed with high-frequency "Vibro-Blades" designed to cut through Mythic density.
"Don't cause a scene," Elara warned.
"Too late for that," Silas said.
One of the assassins slammed into the asphalt ten feet away. The mortals screamed, scattering like ants as the assassin drew a blade that hummed with a soul-piercing frequency.
"Silas of Gehenna!" the assassin roared. "The Lords of the Exodus have placed a bounty of ten billion credits on your"
Silas didn't let him finish. He reached out and tapped a nearby streetlamp. He didn't use his own mana; he vampirized the city's grid. The streetlamp exploded in a shower of sparks, and Silas channeled 50,000 volts through the pavement.
The assassin's purple fire was instantly short-circuited. He collapsed, twitching as the electricity fried his nervous system.
"One," Silas counted.
The other two assassins dived from the air, but Silas caught them both by the throats mid-leap. He didn't kill them; he simply slammed their heads together with the force of a car crash.
"I'm on a date," Silas told their unconscious bodies. "Come back when I'm bored."
The crowd was in a frenzy, filming the "Cosplay Fight" on their phones. But suddenly, the phones died. The neon signs flickered out. The constant hum of Tokyo went silent.
A thick, unnatural fog rolled in, smelling not of trash or rain, but of Ozone and Incense.
"This isn't the Demons," Elara said, her voice trembling. "This feels... heavy. Like the Spire, but colder."
A pillar of white light, more brilliant than the sun, pierced the clouds. From the light, ten figures descended. They weren't like the Myths. They were structured, terrifyingly symmetrical, and draped in armor made of "Living Light."
"Silas the Tribrid," a voice boomed not from a throat, but from the air itself. "You are a corruption of the Divine Blueprint. You have absorbed the Void, and you possess the Spark of the Ancestors. You are too dangerous to exist in the lower realms."
"Who are you?" Silas asked, his right hand glowing gold, his left arm pulsing black.
"We are the Decad of Zion," the leader said. "And you are coming with us to the White City."
Before Silas could lunge, a net of silver geometry collapsed around him and Elara. It wasn't a physical net; it was a Conceptual Prison. It didn't matter how strong his muscles were; the net was made of "Laws," and Silas was currently a "Law-Breaker."
"Silas!" Elara cried as she was pulled into the light.
Silas roared, his Void-arm turning into a claw of shadow, but the light was too pure. It burned his corruption and blinded his gold. For the first time since his awakening, Silas felt small.