A mild morning. The sun poured warm gold over the earth; passersby brushed shoulders like drifting leaves, never guessing who walked beside them. Even if they knew, they wouldn’t dwell; the day flowed as usual.

Shitou Yuya moved along the curb like a quiet stream—no swagger, only a sealed, steady aura. His steps were a touch ungraceful, and he wore the haste of a man chasing the clock; yet that calm covered it, and people read “style” into the flaws.

Fine—this world bows to a beautiful face; masks buy favor like coin.

Eyes kept landing on him like sparrows; some for the face, more because he was obviously foreign. This was London, England; his Eastern features stood out like ink on snow.

He’d come with purpose; without it, even the wind couldn’t drag him here. At a park, he finally let out a breath; the others waited like set stones, and that small mercy warmed him.

“Yo, Rin, Zou—have you been waiting long?”

“Not bad. I didn’t wait long.”

“Too slow, Yuuya. My time’s gold.”

Different answers; Yuuya could only give a wry smile, like rain on a window.

They’d flown in two days ago. Faster ways existed, but he picked the plane for ease, like drifting clouds; so he wandered London with them for two days.

Now the tourist sun set; business rose like a drawn blade.

“Sorry—I paid the hotel bill and rushed over. Rin, you won’t deny me that little face-saving, right?”

Yuuya smiled as he spoke; the smile sat light as dew.

“Nope, Yuuya-kun. Making a lady wait is a grave discourtesy, like stepping on dawn.”

“Come on, you’re head of your house and older than me—can’t you cut me some slack?”

“I wanted to scold you; but for Zou’s sake, I’ll let this slide like rain off bamboo.”

“What does that have to do with me? I didn’t say a thing...”

“And Rin, you really haven’t changed a bit.”

“That’s rude, Zou. I am still me—isn’t that enough?”

“I yield...”

With Kananin Rin, Shen Ling Zou had no tricks left; she’d always been like this, since long ago, like a mountain unmoved.

Compared to Shitou Yuya, Zou was the easier one—at least he didn’t go as far as Yuuya did; he was a gentler wind.

“Alright, playtime’s over. Two days of fun was plenty. Get in.”

As they bantered, Yuuya had the door open; he waved them in like a shepherd with his sleeve.

Once they were seated, Yuuya buckled up; he glanced at Shen Ling Zou beside him, ready like a drawn bow; then he eased the wheel.

The car slipped out of the lot like a fish and joined the river of asphalt. Nothing special along the way; the car was just another moving view, a leaf in traffic; only the driver differed.

He truly had business in Britain; Shitou Yuya came for his own cause, and he sought Shen Ling Zou for that purpose, like a compass seeking north.

“Zou.”

“Mm?”

“Will you hear a selfish ask?”

“Speak. I can guess most of it.”

Zou didn’t mind; he wasn’t slow, and insight saved Yuuya from a long preamble, like cutting through fog.

“You’ve heard about the Church. Since your Divine Ling Family’s war ended, they’ve schemed to slip in through the cracks.”

“I know. Father speaks of it often. Our Clan Head just weathered a ‘baptism’, so we lack strength to meddle. The allied Clan Heads can’t help either.”

“So I’m thinking we should intervene. The Four Pupils Clan won’t march in full— the Church’s power is vast, and a single Clan Head can’t wage that war.”

“You mean we pull out the main blades from several Clan Heads and set them against the Church?”

“Close. My aim is to choke the Church’s growth in the Underworld. I won’t let them seize the helm while we blink.”

“The whole Underworld should be braced against them; even the Magic Institution. Other Clan Heads likely share our intent—none want their standing eroded.”

“And one more thing: our enemies and our companions will clash with the Church; we can’t waste this wind.”

“Yuuya—you’re saying...”

“You might find the one you seek; you might meet your foe. And I may find what I’ve been hunting.”

His words were misted, but the heart of it rang clear; like bells behind fog. Shen Ling Zou wanted a person he loved; Shitou Yuya hunted family.

Different targets, same tether; that was the basis of their pact. Friendship was a bridge, but in the Underworld, profit was stone.

Even as close as brothers, accounts stayed clear—hard law in a crooked world.

The Underworld tilted like a broken plate; everyone knew. Times were grim; no one wanted to be cornered and ruled like livestock.

So both the houses and the Magic Institution turned half-blind—open defiance of the Church drew only a closed eye and an open one.

“Our interests align.”

Rin spoke at last from the back seat; her voice was quiet and contained, like a blade in its sheath—far from the teasing tone from moments ago.

She could be unserious at times, but as the current head of the Kananin Family, her strength matched her title. In the Underworld she was someone—same generation as Shen Ling Zou and Shitou Yuya, bright among young stars.

“Exactly. That’s why I asked you both. If we let the Church rampage, the Underworld will kneel to them sooner or later.”

“Yuuya, if we do hurt the Church—what then, for you?”

“Eh...”

“I know why they swagger. That war bled two lions—your Divine Ling Family and the Flamebu Family. The Single Leaf Clan and the tied houses aren’t doing much better. The Magic Institution is rebuilding from rubble. So the Church grows bold.”

“But if we crush them, the Four Pupils Clan will be the one thriving tree left. If you want to roll up the Underworld, it won’t be hard.”

“You’re sharp, Zou.”

Yuuya blinked, then he smiled, a thin crescent under quiet clouds.

“Maybe that plays a part. But trust me—I’d never move against your Clan Head.”

“I know your character. I trust it. Still, promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you win, I want the Four Pupils Clan’s full support, so I can... take her.”

Zou’s eyes flashed—firm and cruel, like frost under noon sun—and Yuuya paused, caught by the chill.

The one he meant was a Witch from the Magic Institution; Yuuya had no doubt. He knew why Zou would act; love and war share the same heat.

But this version of Shen Ling Zou—this insistence—was new, from boyhood to now. Yuuya couldn’t help a bitter smile, like tea gone cold.

“No problem. As if I could refuse.”

Love is a blade with no shape and endless edges; it cuts deepest. Zou would chase that person even with cruel hands. You could taste how much he was obsessed with his enemy.

Chaotic. Reckless. Yet it was his will; Yuuya had no right to bar the door, like a gate before a storm.

“You’re reckless, truly. You’ve changed a lot, Zou.”

Rin sighed, helpless; beyond surprise, she had little else to give, like a leaf in wind.

“Did that person change you?” Yuuya grinned as he swung around a car; the driver behind barked, “Fuck!”

“Whatever it takes— I won’t let go.”

Zou’s face stayed solemn; his gaze held cruelty and a fierce hunger to possess, like a hawk over prey.

Right or wrong, the road he chose was a fogged path; now, no one knew.

The window showed lights like drifting stars and cars like passing fish; the boy’s profile cut clean against the glass.

“Then let’s go. Better not waste time, right, Rin?”

“Bold words for you. Step on it; I’m on a clock.”

“Yes, yes, Clan Head.”

On London’s highway, their car slid in like a lone boat and sailed toward a distant line of light.

An empty field lifted grasses in spirals; roots rose and spun like a small tornado rolling across open earth.

“Block!”

The ring of steel split the air like thunder; the torn wind seemed ready to shred the sky. Those currents slammed a building ahead, and it fell.

But the ruin didn’t turn to rubble; it powdered out, like it had never stood in this world.

Yanbu Junichi held his blade cocked, boredom on his face like a mask; yet in his eyes, seriousness hardened like stone. His foe was strong.

Opposite him stood a young man his age, long hair tied back like a horse tail. He lifted his chin, a playful smile showing, but his gaze was intent; his aura beat like heat.

A little off to the side, Anlis sat on a rock like a perched bird, watching the duel.

You could tell this was a spar; if it weren’t, with Anlis’s nature, she’d have moved like lightning already.

“How’s it feel, Junichi?” the youth asked, voice light as wind.

“So-so. Better than training— a step up. But to face that brat and the one from the Four Pupils Clan, this still falls short.”

“Then, add me.”

“Just enough.”

“Hahaha.”

The youth laughed from his chest, proud as a drumbeat rolling through a hall.

Anlis rose; her face was plain as snow, hard to read; her eyes were the same old killing frost.

“This time, I’ll kill those two Artifact Spirits.”

Her outer tone and inner core were drenched in unshakable murder, like iron in winter.

“Don’t get smug. You’re with the Magic Institution. I’m only partnering for mutual gain, like two wolves sharing a carcass.” Yanbu Junichi pointed his blade and spoke coolly.

“I know.”

The youth smiled, unbothered, like a lamp under rain.

Every corner was grinding up a new storm; soon the Underworld would face its next disaster.

Meanwhile, far off in Japan, Asagi Renka finished her prep like a taut bowstring.

“So, it’s time to head for Britain for real...”

She looked at the file in her hand; her brows knit like spider silk.

“In the end, I still have to go.”

Aya, seated at the side table, watched Renka’s seriousness and sighed like a soft gust; she hadn’t stopped her.

“Aya.”

“What?”

"Will you cross the sea with me to England?"

"You can’t be serious—dragging me into your boat too?"

"It’s just... I’m caught in the current."

"Alright, you win. White flag up."

Across every hidden corner of the Underworld, people braced, oiling blades and shuttering lanterns, ready to meet the oncoming storm head-on."