Fenrik Hayashi did not wake up.
That was the most terrifying part.
He lay on the cold stone floor of the abandoned underground shelter, his body unmoving, breath so faint it felt imaginary. The Wolf Slayer Axe rested beside him—but it was no longer dormant. Faint silver fur-like energy clung to its blade, pulsing slowly, almost anxiously.
Like it was waiting for its master to return.
Aoi knelt beside Fenrik, her hands shaking as she pressed a cloth against the wound carved into his chest. The mark left by the devil was wrong—dark, crawling, as if it refused to heal.
"This isn't closing," she whispered. "No matter what I do."
Taro Hyun stood a few steps back, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His Tiger Reaper Scythe was planted into the ground, the blade dulled—not broken, but humbled.
He had never felt that before.
Defeat was one thing.
Humiliation was another.
Eryx watched from the shadows, eyes narrowed. "That wound isn't physical alone," he said quietly. "It's layered. Body, spirit… something else."
Taro looked at him sharply. "You've seen this before."
Eryx didn't answer immediately.
"Yes," he finally said. "Once. The man didn't survive."
Aoi's breath hitched. "Don't say that."
Eryx met her eyes. "Then we move. Now."
Silence filled the room—thick, suffocating.
Taro broke it.
"We split up."
Aoi looked at him. "What?"
"There's no time to move as one group," Taro continued. "Fenrik's condition is unstable. We need healers. Artifacts. Potions. Anything that can slow the corruption."
Eryx nodded. "There are underground networks in this city—black-market alchemists, forgotten shrine keepers. Dangerous, but fast."
Aoi stood up. "Then I'm going with Fenrik."
"No," Taro said instantly.
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"You stay here," Taro said firmly. "You're the only one who can keep him alive until we return."
Aoi clenched her fists—but she nodded.
"…Fine."
Taro turned to Eryx. "You know this world better than us. You're with me."
Eryx smirked faintly. "Figured."
They turned to leave when Aoi spoke again.
"Taro."
He paused.
"If you don't come back…" she said quietly, "…I won't forgive you."
Taro didn't smile.
"I don't plan to die again today."
And with that, they were gone—vanishing into the broken city above.
Hours passed.
Fenrik's breathing grew uneven.
The fur-like glow on the axe intensified, spreading along the handle, wrapping it like living energy. At times, it pulsed in rhythm with Fenrik's heart. At others, it flared violently—as if reacting to the wound.
Aoi wiped sweat from her forehead. "Stay with me," she whispered. "You don't get to leave like this."
For a moment—just a moment—Fenrik's fingers twitched.
She froze.
"Fenrik?"
His eyes didn't open.
But his lips moved.
Barely.
"…don't… follow…"
Aoi swallowed hard, tears burning. "Idiot," she whispered. "You're not dying here."
Meanwhile, deep within the city's forgotten layers, Taro and Eryx moved fast.
"You fought the devil head-on," Eryx said as they navigated a collapsed subway tunnel. "Most chosen wouldn't survive ten seconds."
"We didn't survive," Taro replied coldly. "We were spared."
Eryx glanced at him. "That worse?"
"Yes."
They reached an underground market lit by broken runes and flickering lanterns. Strange figures watched from stalls—alchemists, rogue mages, relic dealers.
Taro stepped forward. "We need high-grade healing."
Laughter echoed.
"You don't ask for that," a hooded figure said. "You trade."
Eryx placed a cracked shadow core on the table.
The market went silent.
"…Where did you get that?" the figure whispered.
"From something that tried to kill us," Eryx replied. "Now talk."
The dealer swallowed. "There's a shrine—old magic. East sector. But the guardian doesn't help for free."
Taro turned away. "Then we don't ask."
Back in the shelter, Fenrik's condition worsened.
The dark veins spread.
The axe let out a low hum—almost a growl.
Aoi stepped back as silver fur fully enveloped the blade.
"Don't do anything stupid," she warned it shakily.
The axe didn't respond.
It reacted.
The fur flared—and for a brief second, Fenrik's body lifted slightly off the ground.
Aoi screamed, "Fenrik!"
Then—silence.
His body dropped.
The glow faded.
Fenrik didn't move.
No breath.
No pulse.
Aoi's world shattered.
"No… no no no—!"
She pressed her ear to his chest.
Nothing.
Tears streamed down her face.
Fenrik Hayashi was dead.
Or so it seemed.
Far away, something ancient stirred within the axe.
And somewhere unseen, the devil smiled—
believing the wolf had finally fallen..