Raindrops pattered against Fusiming’s shoulders. The bone-deep chill reminded him they’d been caught in this downpour far too long.

He could handle it—his physique wasn’t weak enough to catch a cold from mere rain.

But he wasn’t alone anymore. Perched on his shoulder was a pink-haired Little Succubus.

He might be fine, but Nainai? Not so much.

The path ahead was clear now. Their priority: find shelter inside the junkyard.

Even washed by rain, the lot reeked of stubborn rust, gasoline, and damp earth.

His sneakers sank instantly into the thick, clinging mud.

Like quicksand—slow, heavy, suffocating.

Fusiming wrenched his leg free. A clump of mud tore loose with a wet *plop*.

A deep footprint remained. Rainwater rushed in, forming murky puddles.

*Annoying.*

The rain-churned mud had turned his freshly washed white sneakers a filthy brown.

*Just cleaned them yesterday…*

He grimaced. The labor wasted stung.

Lifting his right foot, he felt the mud glue his shoe down. Each step dragged like hauling anchors.

Then—

**「Spiral Force: Chaotic Spiral」—**

*Channel through the soles!*

*Pfft-pfft-pfft—*

Raindrops scattered as an invisible vortex erupted around his feet. Mud flew off like debris in a centrifuge.

*Spiral Force: Nature’s spin cycle. Perfect for laundry day.*

His sneakers gleamed white again—at least on the outside.

The mud-soaked socks inside? Unfixable for now.

Grit scraped between his toes. *Agony.*

Satisfied the mud was gone, Fusiming kept the Spiral humming as he lowered his foot.

Before it touched ground, the mud recoiled—exposing solid stone beneath.

Wind coiled upward, compressing inward.

Unharmed, he stepped onto firm earth.

Stone stayed clean.

But buried deep, it’d flood without his Spiral. *Need flat stones or planks to make a proper path…*

—

*Who’s there?!*

Fusiming snapped his head sideways. Silver pupils narrowed, scanning every shadow.

Beneath him, Nainai felt his body lock tight—coiled like a spring.

Muscles tensed. Battle-ready in an instant.

Nainai blinked. *What’s his problem? Jumpy much…*

*Scaring me. I hate creepy places like this.*

—

Silence.

Only rain hammering dented MaRun sedans.

*My imagination?*

Fusiming’s jaw tightened.

When he’d activated Spiral Force—just as his foot landed—he’d *felt* it. A hostile gaze from behind.

Goosebumps. Raw malice. Trained instincts never lied.

But the moment he turned? Gone. Like a soap bubble bursting in sunlight.

He knew this MaRun junkyard. No one had entered recently.

The soft outer earth would trap even a newborn’s footprints.

Moving unseen here required a Strong Rank Extraordinary Being—nearly Ferocious Rank.

*Why would a high-tier Scavenger Squad member sneak into this nowhere wasteland?*

He’d checked thoroughly. No signs of intrusion.

And no human could vanish that fast—erasing both gaze and presence.

*So… not human?*

—

*WHO ARE YOU?!*

A second hostile glare stabbed his ear. His pupils snapped tight again.

Silver eyes—glowing like hot filaments—speared toward the source.

But the instant he locked on?

*Poof.*

Gone. Like smoke.

Eerie. Chilling.

“What are you *doing*?” Nainai grumbled, watching him crouch and scan the rain. “Crazy? You wanted shelter, right? Why stand in the storm?”

“If you won’t find cover, just take me home! I’m freezing…” *Ah… ah… ah—!*

Unlike Fusiming, Nainai sensed nothing. She just pouted, rubbing her nose.

Then—

*“Ah! Choo!~~~”*

A glistening strand of snot shot from her tiny nose, splattering onto Fusiming’s soaked shirt.

“…”

Fusiming stared, jaw twitching, at the sniffling Little Succubus.

Nainai showed zero remorse. *Rain’ll wash it off. Free laundry.*

Meeting his deadpan glare, she even wiped her nose *harder* on his sleeve—and smirked.

*Sigh.*

No severe germophobia, but… *nobody* likes snot on their clothes.

He shook his head silently.

Enough. Nainai would catch a cold if they stayed out here.

But that gaze…

One last sweep. Nothing.

Strangely, after Nainai’s earth-shattering sneeze, the killing intent vanished. Completely.

*As if her snot had exorcism powers. Or maybe it’s like black dog’s blood?*

Whatever.

Shaking off unease, Fusiming hoisted the nose-wiping Little Succubus and sprinted toward shadowy shacks in the rain.

He kicked open a door after spotting a dry-ish single-story hut through a window.

Inside: dusty, cramped. Rusty steel frames towered like skeletal monoliths.

Moldy newspapers littered the floor. Faded headlines bled through grime:

*“Young… female… death…”*

*“Sensational… murder… demon…”*

*“Case… solved…”*

A water-stained photo showed a white skirt, pink hair.

*A dead girl’s portrait.*

The space smelled of stale paint and damp mildew.

*“Ah-choo❤~~~ Ugh…”*

Nainai sneezed again, rubbing her red nose. “This stinks! Put me down already!”

Fusiming obeyed. Her feet touched the dusty floor.