The twilight hours of Shinjuku stretched into an uneasy darkness as Lila and Hikari raced through the neon-lit streets, their footsteps echoing against the concrete like desperate heartbeats. The search for Katsuki, Lyra, and Nami had led them through a labyrinth of alleyways and crowded thoroughfares, each moment without their companions stretching their nerves tighter.

  Lila's brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes closed as she extended her consciousness outward. The psychic web she cast filtered through the cacophony of thoughts surrounding them—snippets of everyday worries, fleeting desires, mundane observations—all washing over her like radio static as she searched for any trace of their missing friends.

  Then, like a bolt of lightning through her mind, she caught it. Not the familiar thought patterns of her companions, but something far more chilling—a current of panic rippling through the collective consciousness of the crowd.

  A nuclear weapon just hit Japan again.

  The thought wasn't isolated. It pulsed through dozens, perhaps hundreds of minds around them, a spreading virus of terror that made Lila's eyes snap open, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

  Hikari noticed the change immediately. The psychic's posture had gone rigid, her azure eyes widening with alarm.

  "Find anything?" Hikari asked, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her shoulders.

  Lila swallowed hard, choosing her words with care. "I might've. I heard someone talking about nuclear weapons."

  The effect was instantaneous. Hikari's entire body went rigid, as if struck by an invisible current. Her breathing became shallow, rapid, her pupils contracting to pinpoints. The air around her crackled with sudden energy—a physical manifestation of the terror that had seized her very core.

  Cyan psychic energy began to flare around her slim frame, swirling violently like a miniature cyclone. The ethereal light cast ghastly shadows across her face, highlighting the naked fear that had replaced her usual confidence. Debris from the street—discarded wrappers, fallen leaves, dust—was caught in the whirlwind of her uncontrolled power, circling her trembling form.

  "A-a-are you saying the US could be bombing us again...?" Her voice emerged fractured, childlike in its terror, nothing like the sharp-tongued fighter Lila knew.

  The question hung in the air, heavy with generations of collective trauma. Hikari's eyes weren't seeing the present anymore—they were witnessing the horrors of a past she'd never experienced firsthand but had inherited through the blood and memory of her people. The mushroom clouds over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The blackened silhouettes burned into walls. The survivors with their melted skin and radiation sickness, their stories etched into Japan's national psyche like scars that would never fully heal.

  Lila recognized the thousand-yard stare immediately. She'd seen it before in survivors of supernatural catastrophes—that moment when personal fear transcended into something ancient and communal. For Japanese citizens like Hikari, nuclear weapons weren't just weapons of mass destruction; they were mythological monsters made real, demons that had once devoured cities and left generations marked by their touch.

  "Oh no, they're not!" Lila exclaimed quickly, stepping forward to place a steadying hand on Hikari's trembling shoulder. She could feel the psychic energy humming against her palm, hot and unstable. "From what I can gather, it must be another sin archbishop that can manipulate nuclear energy."

  The swirling debris around Hikari slowed slightly, the cyan light flickering as she struggled to process this information, to drag herself back from the precipice of generational terror.

  Lila placed a gentle hand on her chin, brow furrowing in thought. "But which sin would be able to do something like that?"

  Hikari closed her eyes, taking several deep, shuddering breaths. Each exhale seemed to diminish the psychic storm around her incrementally, though her hands still trembled at her sides. When she opened her eyes again, they were clearer, more focused, though shadows of remembered horrors still lurked beneath the surface.

  "If I'm taking a guess," she said, voice steadier than before, "I would say the sin of wrath would be the most likely to manipulate nuclear energy."

  The psychic energy around her had settled into a faint aura now, her control slowly returning as she forced analytical thought to override primitive fear. For Japanese citizens, nuclear fear wasn't just historical—it was cellular, passed down through generations, reinforced by government drills, survivor testimonies, and cultural memory. The way radiation poisoning could rot a body from within. The burns that never healed. The babies born with deformities decades later. These weren't abstract concepts for Hikari—they were nightmares that had been whispered at her cradle.

  "You could be right," Lila began, her analytical mind working through the possibilities, "but there's always—"

  The words died on her lips as an invisible force slammed into them both like a concrete wall. Their knees buckled simultaneously, bodies crashing to the pavement with bone-jarring force. The pressure was immense, as if gravity itself had multiplied tenfold, crushing them against the ground with merciless intensity.

  Through the haze of sudden pain, they saw her approach.

  She moved with ethereal grace despite the gravitational anomaly she commanded, each step flowing into the next like liquid silver. Her hair—long and lustrous—rippled like moonlit water down her back, shimmering with an otherworldly glow that seemed to drink in the neon lights of Shinjuku only to transform them into something more sublime, more terrible.

  Her eyes were the color of winter frost, pale and tranquil, yet holding the cold indifference of distant stars. They surveyed the two young women pinned beneath her power with languid curiosity, neither malice nor compassion disturbing their perfect serenity. Her skin possessed an almost translucent quality, alabaster and flawless, as if carved from the purest marble and then somehow imbued with the barest hint of life.

  The robes that draped her slender form seemed to ignore the laws of physics, floating and swirling around her as if caught in a perpetual, gentle breeze that affected nothing else in the still night air. The fabric itself was difficult to look at directly—sometimes appearing pure white, other times shifting through impossible colors that had no names in any human language.

  "My, I didn't think I'd be able to see the two apostles for myself. I'm actually quite honored," she said, her voice as soft as falling snow yet somehow perfectly audible above the distant city noise. Each syllable was precisely formed, delivered with aristocratic precision, yet utterly devoid of emotional investment.

  The gravitational pressure increased slightly as she tilted her head, studying them with the detached fascination of someone observing particularly unusual insects. "I surely thought Aphrona would've killed you both by now, or at least turned you two into something horrific."

  Her entire presence exuded a profound indifference that was more terrifying than active malice. This was not someone who hated them—this was someone who could obliterate them without feeling anything at all, for whom their existence or non-existence held equal weight in the vast, cold emptiness of her concern.

  Hikari struggled against the crushing force, her face contorting with effort as she tried to summon enough psychic energy to push back against the supernatural gravity. But the woman's power was overwhelming, a fundamental force of nature that seemed to swallow Hikari's abilities like the ocean absorbs a drop of rain.

  Pinned against the ground, both women realized they were facing something far beyond the ordinary threats they had encountered before. This was no mere sin archbishop—this was a force of nature made flesh, the very embodiment of cosmic indifference given human form.

  And as the crushing weight continued to press them down, the woman's serene smile never wavered, as patient and inevitable as the entropy of the universe itself.

  Hikari: “And just… who the hell are you…!?”

  The woman: "Jeez, I was hoping you put it together yourself. But if you must ask, I am the sin archbishop of the sect of her shadows representing sloth, my name is Selene~"

  The words dripped from her lips with casual indifference, the sing-song lilt at the end utterly at odds with the crushing gravitational force pinning them to the ground. Her eyes remained cold and uninterested, as if introducing herself was just another tedious obligation she would rather avoid—one more pointless motion in an existence filled with unnecessary effort.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The battle raged across the shattered landscape of what was once a peaceful district of Shinjuku. Now, it resembled nothing so much as a war zone—buildings reduced to skeletal frames, streets cratered and buckled, the air itself heavy with a sickening heat that distorted vision and scorched lungs with each desperate breath.

  At the heart of this hellscape, three fighters stood against a living catastrophe.

  Lyra Vega moved with the grace of a dancer, her honey-blonde hair crackling with electric blue energy that matched the lightning arcing from her fingertips. Each bolt she hurled was a concentrated storm, powerful enough to level buildings—yet they barely slowed the monster before them. Her golden-brown eyes narrowed, calculations running behind them as she analyzed every movement, every pattern in her opponent's attacks.

  Arcturus, Archbishop of Wrath, stood in the center of a self-made crater, his massive frame radiating waves of nuclear heat that warped the very air around him. His wild mane of black and crimson hair whipped around his face as if caught in its own personal tempest, and his fiery red eyes blazed with an intensity that promised nothing but annihilation. With each roar of rage, the ground beneath him cracked further, hairline fractures spreading outward like a web of destruction.

  Nami Kuromiya darted around the periphery of the battle, her silver hair streaming behind her as she wielded an enormous scythe crafted from pure aura energy. The weapon gleamed with an unnatural pink light that matched her glowing eyes, its edge humming with a sound like distant screams. Though small and almost doll-like in appearance, her movements carried the lethal precision of a predator.

  Katsuki Sutaro was nothing but a blur—a streak of purple-tinted darkness that materialized in one spot only to vanish again before Arcturus could land a blow. His speed seemed to defy physics itself, the air around him crackling with displaced energy as reality struggled to keep pace with his movements.

  Lyra unleashed another devastating arc of lightning, the energy so concentrated it appeared solid as it sliced through the air. Arcturus countered with a blast of nuclear energy that erupted from his palm—a miniaturized sun that bloomed outward with apocalyptic intent. The two forces collided in a cataclysmic explosion that should have leveled city blocks, but Lyra's face contorted with effort as she extended both hands, creating an electromagnetic field that contained the worst of the blast.

  The air within the field shimmered and boiled, particles of dust and debris caught in the maelstrom disintegrating instantly, but the devastation went no further. Sweat beaded on Lyra's forehead, her arms trembling with the strain.

  "You can't hold me forever, little spark," Arcturus growled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. "Your electromagnetic cage is nothing against my fury!"

  He punctuated his words with another blast that strained Lyra's containment to its breaking point. The electromagnetic bubble warped, bulging outward as nuclear fire pressed against its boundaries.

  Meanwhile, Nami swept in from the side, her aura scythe trailing pink energy as she slashed at Arcturus's exposed flank. The weapon whistled through the air—a sound like tearing reality—but Arcturus pivoted with unnatural speed for someone of his size, his hand coming up to block the strike with a forearm wreathed in nuclear fire.

  "Too slow, doll-face," he sneered, the skin of his arm glowing like molten steel where the scythe had connected.

  Nami's eyes widened as Arcturus's massive hand shot out, closing around her throat. Her small frame was lifted bodily from the ground, legs kicking uselessly in the air as his grip tightened. The Archbishop's eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure as he tightened his grip.

  But before he could crush her windpipe, Katsuki materialized beside them—there one instant where nothing had been before. His hands moved with impossible speed, breaking Arcturus's grip and pulling Nami away. The displacement of air from his movement created a miniature sonic boom that cracked the ground beneath them.

  Lyra, seeing an opening, backed away several paces. Her tactical mind was already formulating a new approach. Her gaze locked onto a jagged piece of metal rebar protruding from a nearby collapsed wall—a remnant of what had once been an office building.

  With a gesture that combined grace and deadly intent, Lyra reached out. The metal debris vibrated, then tore free from the concrete that imprisoned it. It hovered for a split second, rotating to align with her outstretched palm.

  Her eyes narrowed. "Let's see how you handle this."

  In one fluid motion, she cocked her arm back and hurled the makeshift projectile forward—not with her physical strength, but with her mastery of electromagnetic forces. The metal rod accelerated instantaneously to three times the speed of sound.

  The air around it compressed violently, creating a visible shockwave that rippled outward from the projectile's path. The sound came a fraction of a second later—a deafening crack that shattered any remaining windows for blocks around.

  Katsuki, sensing the attack coming, grabbed Nami around the waist and blurred away from Arcturus, his movement leaving a trail of displaced air that whipped dust and small debris into miniature cyclones. They reappeared thirty feet away, Nami's eyes wide with surprise at the suddenness of the maneuver.

  The metal projectile struck Arcturus square in the chest with the force of a railgun. The impact was catastrophic—a direct hit that would have liquefied the internal organs of any normal being. The Archbishop's massive body was hurled backward, crashing through the remains of a concrete wall and disappearing into the rubble of a destroyed building. The structure collapsed further under the impact, sending up a massive cloud of dust and debris that momentarily obscured their view.

  For a moment, an eerie silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the distant sound of falling rubble and the heavy breathing of the three fighters.

  Lyra rolled her shoulders, the movement fluid despite the exhaustion that pulled at her muscles. A faint smile played at the corners of her lips as she turned to her companions. "You think that was enough to kill him?"

  Katsuki shook his head, eyes scanning the rubble with predatory intensity. "Probably not," he replied, his voice tight with controlled tension. "His ability seems to make him stronger the more he gets angry."

  Nami, now back on her feet, brushed dust from her modified Church uniform, her pink eyes narrowed in frustration. "And how the hell are we supposed to beat this guy?" She gestured wildly at the destruction around them. "I don't know about you two, but I can't just tank a nuclear explosion."

  The petite exorcist's voice carried an edge of genuine concern beneath her typical abrasive tone. Her aura scythe flickered momentarily, reflecting her agitation.

  Lyra rolled her shoulders again, working out a kink in muscles that had been tensed for too long. Her honey-blonde hair caught the light as she moved, the blue highlights seeming to pulse with internal energy. "Well, luckily you don't have to," she replied with calculated confidence. "Because I'm sure we can find a way to use his own anger against him."

  The words had barely left her lips when the air around them seemed to compress—a warning of imminent danger. The collapsed building exploded outward in a shower of concrete and twisted metal. Six radiant chains erupted from the rubble, each one glowing with blinding light and radiating heat intense enough to scorch the air. They shot toward the three fighters like living things, seeking to bind, burn, and destroy.

  Lyra reacted instantly, her mind calculating trajectories even as her body moved. She raised both hands, palms facing outward, and the air between her and the chains seemed to ripple as she summoned her Lorentz Force Mastery. An invisible wave of repulsive force burst from her hands, catching all six chains and deflecting them harmlessly to the sides. The chains struck the ground with enough force to shatter the asphalt, leaving glowing craters where they impacted.

  The deflection created a momentary opening. Katsuki and Nami needed no verbal communication—they moved as one, dashing toward Arcturus as he burst from the rubble. The Archbishop's body glowed with nuclear fire, chunks of concrete and metal melting away from his skin like wax. His eyes were miniature suns, his mouth twisted in a snarl of pure hatred.

  Nami reached him first, her aura scythe raised for a devastating strike—but Arcturus moved with vicious precision. His massive hand shot out, closing around her throat once more. This time, there was no playfulness in his grip, only murderous intent. He slammed her into the ground with such force that the concrete beneath them cratered, spider-web cracks radiating outward from the impact point. The air left Nami's lungs in a pained gasp that was cut short by his tightening grip.

  "YOU WEAKLING!" Arcturus roared, his voice a physical force that sent tremors through the ground. "DO YOU THINK PARTY TRICKS LIKE THAT WILL WORK ON ME!?"

  Each word was punctuated by waves of heat that distorted the air around them. His rage was palpable, a living thing that seemed to feed the nuclear fire burning beneath his skin.

  With contemptuous ease, he lifted Nami's stunned form and hurled her directly at Katsuki, who had been seconds from reaching them. Even with his incredible speed, Katsuki had to shift his momentum, arms going out to catch Nami rather than strike at Arcturus. He caught her mid-air, the impact pushing him back several feet despite his superhuman strength, but he managed to set her gently on her feet.

  The slight delay was all Arcturus needed to prepare his next attack. Katsuki steadied Nami, then blurred into motion again, closing the distance to Arcturus in less than a heartbeat. His hands raised, glowing with deep purple energy as he tapped into his Yokai abilities. The ground beneath them responded to his will, matter reshaping itself as he manipulated the very fabric of reality.

  The concrete and asphalt before him transformed, liquefying and then reforming as dozens of lethal spikes that shot toward Arcturus like guided missiles. Each spike was charged with yokai energy that made them shimmer with an unnatural violet light.

  Arcturus's face twisted into a contemptuous sneer. He raised one massive hand, palm outward, and unleashed a concentrated blast of nuclear energy. The beam was blindingly bright, carrying the heat of a small sun, and it disintegrated Katsuki's spikes instantaneously. Where the energy touched, matter simply ceased to exist, leaving nothing but superheated air in its wake.

  "You'll have to do better than that..." Arcturus growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble that carried the promise of imminent violence.

  The nuclear fire surrounding him intensified, casting harsh shadows across the battlefield. His eyes locked on Katsuki's, a predator recognizing the most dangerous prey, and his lips curved in a smile that held no humor—only the anticipation of destruction.

  The three fighters exchanged quick glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of their situation. This wasn't just an enemy—this was a force of nature made flesh, a being whose very existence was an affront to the natural order. And somehow, they needed to find a way to stop him before his rage consumed not just them, but everything around them.

  The next exchange would determine not just the outcome of the battle, but whether Shinjuku would survive the night.

  To be continued…