Chapter 4: Omen

A day later, the morning light softly streamed through the old curtains of Najma's childhood bedroom, painting the room in warm, golden hues. Najma stirred, blinking as the light gently lifted her from sleep. She yawned, stretched, and rubbed her eyes, the familiar purple sky outside reminding her she wasn’t in a normal place anymore.

Pushing herself out of bed, Najma lazily cracked her knuckles, letting out a satisfied breath. As she did, small vines shot out from her finger joints , responding instinctively to her movements. Najma barely noticed.

Once she was fully awake, she moved through her morning routine. She slipped into her usual clothes—her collar shirt, the neck choker she always wore, and the jacket with the number 7 printed on the back. Tying her yellow bandana securely on her head, Najma took a quick glance in the mirror. Her tired eyes reflected back at her, but she didn’t linger. Another day in Ravenswood, she thought with a sigh.

Heading to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, but as she spat out the foam, a drop of blood mixed with her saliva. Najma’s brow furrowed with irritation. Great, just what I needed. She rinsed out her mouth and decided to ignore it. Today wasn’t going to be a good day if she let that bother her.

With a grumble in her stomach, she trudged downstairs, ready for a quick breakfast. She’d bought some frozen waffles last night—nothing fancy, but enough to start the day. She opened the door to the kitchen, but immediately froze in her tracks.

There, standing in front of her fridge with the door wide open, was Touko. He had one of her frozen waffles in hand, but it wasn’t heated up—it was frozen solid. And yet, he bit into it, as if the cold didn’t bother him at all.

“Are you serious?” Najma asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Touko looked up, completely unfazed, taking another bite of the frosty waffle. “What?” he muttered, his mouth full.

Najma’s eye twitched. Without a second thought, she stormed over, grabbed him by the collar of his poncho, and dragged him toward the door. “Out. Now.”

Touko, still holding his frozen waffle, didn’t resist, though he didn’t seem particularly impressed. “Okay, okay. Sheesh,” he grumbled as Najma booted him out of the house and slammed the door behind him.

She brushed her hands off, feeling a small sense of victory. Finally. She walked back into the kitchen, ready to start her day properly.

But as soon as she rounded the corner, there was Touko again. He stood right in front of her fridge, another frozen waffle in hand, as if nothing had happened. “Good morning, by the way,” he said, his tone sarcastic as he bit into the frozen waffle again.

Najma sighed heavily, her patience already worn thin. She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, biting into it with a resigned look. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, chewing her apple.

Touko smirked behind his mask. “I aim to please.”

Najma walked through the town streets, eyes scanning the locals for anyone who might be willing to answer a few questions. Her goal was simple: find more information about the strange happenings in Ravenswood, ideally without making a scene.

Unfortunately, a scene was being made without her trying—thanks to Touko.

He followed her closely, not too far behind, his dark, mysterious presence impossible to ignore. Every time Najma tried to approach someone, they gave her a wide berth, their eyes darting between her and the man in the red goggles, and eerie mask trailing after her.

Najma clenched her fists. She could feel the eyes on them, people whispering as they passed by. It was impossible to get anyone to talk to her like this.

She whirled around, stopping dead in her tracks. “Why are you still following me?” she demanded, clearly exasperated.

Touko shrugged, his voice deadpan as usual. “I’ve got nothing better to do. So, might as well follow the last person I want to be with.”

Najma groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re sticking out like a sore thumb, you know that? Can’t you at least try to blend in?”

Touko tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. “Blend in? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Najma blinked at him, almost stunned by how clueless he was. “What’s wrong? Look at you! You’re wearing a black coat with a poncho that looks like you stepped out of a post-apocalyptic movie! How do you not stick out?”

Touko stared at her for a solid minute, his red goggles gleaming under the daylight. Then, as if a switch flipped, he shrugged and said, “Give me a sec.”

Suddenly, a glowing door appeared next to him, materializing out of thin air. Najma blinked, stepping back as Touko casually walked into the door, disappearing completely.

Seconds passed in silence.

Just as Najma was about to wonder where he went, the door reappeared, and Touko walked back out, wearing a surprisingly normal jacket and a scarf. His poncho and oversized coat were gone, replaced by the stolen outfit.

Najma stared at him in shock. “Did you just—wait, did you steal that?!”

Touko, without missing a beat, shrugged again. “Well, nobody was using it.”

Najma's eyes widened as her irritation flared up. “You can’t just steal people’s clothes, Touko! Put it back!”

Touko rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t understand why she was so worked up about it. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, but made no move to return the jacket or scarf.

Najma sighed in exasperation. “Alright, fine, whatever. But at least lose the poncho, and that red... thing you’ve got going on.”

Touko gave her a long, blank look. “The ‘red thing’ is part of my whole deal.”

“I don’t care,” Najma said bluntly, waving her hand. “If you’re going to follow me around, at least don’t look like you stepped out of a comic book. And one more thing—”

She pointed at his goggles, the final piece of his ensemble that stuck out like a beacon.

Touko raised a hand to his goggles, clearly reluctant to part with them. “I’m not taking these off.”

“Why not?” Najma asked, folding her arms. “They’re what’s making you look the most suspicious.”

Touko sighed again, his voice taking on that same dry, irritated tone. “Because I said so.”

Najma groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you,” Touko replied with a sarcastic smirk, clearly enjoying her frustration.

As Najma and Touko continued walking through the town, Najma’s eyes scanned the crowd for any familiar faces, hoping to spot someone willing to talk. After a few minutes, she caught sight of Henry, the same guy she had met the day before. He was dressed in a turtleneck this time, casually strolling down the street with his hands in his pockets.

“Henry!” Najma called out, waving to get his attention.

Henry glanced over at her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, before promptly turning away and continuing to walk as if he hadn’t heard her.

Najma blinked in surprise. “What the—? Is he seriously ignoring me?”

Touko, walking beside her, shrugged casually. “Maybe he’s mad. You were kind of a dick to him yesterday.”

Najma’s eyes narrowed, shooting a glare at Touko. “Oh, really? Thanks for that. Super helpful.”

Touko smirked behind his mask, clearly enjoying her irritation. Najma huffed, turning her attention away from Henry’s retreating figure, though a small part of her felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she had been a bit harsh with him. Still, she wasn’t about to admit that Touko was right.

As they walked further down the street, Touko glanced over and spotted something that seemed to catch his attention—a movie theater, its marquee glowing with the titles of current films. He paused, staring at it with a puzzled expression.

“What’s that?” Touko asked, pointing to the theater.

Najma gave him a half-hearted glance, still annoyed from their earlier conversation. “It’s a movie theater,” she replied flatly, not bothering to explain further. “Not like you’d get in, anyway. You don’t have any money.”

Touko didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he simply opened another one of his glowing doors and casually stepped through it, disappearing inside without so much as a word.

It took a moment for Najma to realize what he’d just done. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. He could just... go in there without paying.

Just as Najma was about to yell after him, Touko’s head poked back out from the glowing door. “Hey,” he said, his tone as casual as ever. “Want to come in?”

Najma stared at him in disbelief, her frustration flaring up once again. “You... you can’t just—! Ugh, why am I even surprised?”

Touko raised an eyebrow. “So, is that a yes?”

…

Najma and Touko were sitting in the empty movie theater. The room was dim, and the old film playing on the screen flickered with a grainy quality. The movie was slow-paced and, frankly, boring, but somehow, both of them found themselves oddly invested. Despite sitting in random seats across the room from each other, neither wanted to admit they were getting into it.

The silence between them was comfortable, a temporary break from their usual bickering.

Touko leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed as he stared at the screen. “So,” he began, his tone casual, “how do you view your Miracle?”

Najma glanced over at him, confused by the sudden question. “Huh? Why do you even care?”

Touko shrugged, keeping his eyes on the screen. “I’m curious.”

Najma scoffed, not buying it for a second. “Curious, huh? I’ll answer if you tell me something about yourself.”

Without hesitation, Touko immediately declined. “Nope.”

Both of them scoffed at each other, annoyed but too invested in the movie to keep pressing the issue. The silence stretched on for a few more minutes, until Touko unexpectedly broke it again.

“God candidates,” he said, his voice quieter this time, “they’re stuck in this loop. A never-ending cycle between being a candidate and a god. It’s not as glorious as it sounds.”

Najma raised an eyebrow, surprised by the shift in tone. “Go on.”

Touko didn’t look at her, his gaze still locked on the screen. “When gods retire, they have two options. I’m not telling you what they are yet, but let’s just say... I hate both of them. The whole thing is just a joke. Being a god candidate? It’s even worse.”

Najma frowned, watching him closely now. “So, you hate being a god candidate?”

“Yeah,” Touko replied, his voice flat. “It’s like being stuck in someone else’s game with no way out.”

There was a moment of quiet between them before Touko turned his head slightly. “What about you? How do you feel about your vines?”

Najma leaned back in her seat, her eyes drifting to the screen as she thought about her Miracle. “Honestly? I kinda hate them.”

Touko tilted his head, genuinely curious. “Why?”

Najma glanced over at him briefly before giving a blunt answer. “That’s all you’re getting.”

Touko’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, irritation flaring up again. “You’re seriously going to pull that after I just explained more about god candidates?”

Najma shrugged, unfazed. “Yep.”

Touko grumbled something under his breath, clearly annoyed, and they both fell silent again, the tension simmering between them. But instead of arguing further, they eventually returned to watching the movie, both too stubborn to admit they were still interested in it.

Later in the day, Najma went back to doing what she did best—interviewing locals. She moved through the streets, asking questions about any strange sightings, gathering bits of information here and there. Meanwhile, Touko watched her from a distance, his arms crossed as he leaned against a building. Najma had insisted he stay out of her way during the interviews, and though he complied, it was clear he wasn’t thrilled about it.

As Touko stood there, his gaze shifted from Najma to something—or rather, someone—off in the distance. There was a man, lurking awkwardly behind a streetlamp, peeking in Najma’s direction. His movements were stiff, and his attempt to blend in was so bad it was almost comical. Touko narrowed his eyes. Who’s this guy? He didn’t know who the man was, but something about his behavior seemed off.

Not one to leave things unanswered, Touko opened a glowing door beside him and stepped through it, instantly teleporting across the street to where the man was hiding. He appeared right behind him, silent as a shadow.

The man—Henry—was so focused on spying on Najma that he didn’t notice Touko until it was too late. He jumped, startled as Touko’s presence loomed over him. Henry quickly recognized him, his face paled slightly.

“What the—? You’re with her,” Henry stammered, clearly unsettled by Touko’s sudden appearance. “What do you want?”

Touko didn’t say a word, his irritation visible through his stiff posture. He didn’t care who this guy was or what he was doing; he just didn’t like the fact that he was watching Najma from afar.

Henry, trying to mask his nervousness, raised a hand defensively. “Look, just... scram, alright? I don’t want any trouble.”

That was all Touko needed to hear.

Without warning, he summoned a door beneath Henry’s feet. The door slammed open, and Henry let out a startled yelp as he fell through, disappearing into Touko’s dimension before the door shut again with a loud thud.

With that out of the way, Touko calmly teleported back to where he had been watching Najma. But when he got there, he looked around only to realize... she was gone.

Touko, visibly irritated after losing track of Najma, started teleporting all over town. Each time he stepped through a door, he found himself in a new part of Ravenswood, searching desperately for her. His patience was wearing thin.

First, he popped into a playground. He spotted a group of kids playing and, deciding to try something different, he approached them. "Hey, have any of you seen a woman about this tall—" he gestured, describing Najma as best as he could. The kids looked up at him, confused, while their parents, who had been chatting nearby, shot concerned glances in his direction.

"Mom, that weird guy is asking about someone!" one of the kids shouted.

Touko sighed as the parents quickly gathered their kids and gave him death glares.

Not wanting to deal with it, he quickly opened another door and teleported away. This time, he ended up in a public bathroom. He stepped out of the glowing door, looked around, and quickly realized something was wrong. The pastel-pink walls and the unmistakable rows of stalls filled with women’s shoes made it clear.

A woman screamed. “Get out of the women’s restroom, you freak!”

Touko blinked, annoyed at his own mistake, and promptly walked back through his door, narrowly avoiding a crowd of angry women chasing after him.

His next teleport took him to a dark alley, but before he could even take a step, he realized the place was swarming with police officers. They were investigating a crime scene—a murder, from the looks of it. The detectives and officers all turned to stare at him as he appeared out of nowhere.

Touko blinked, and for a moment, both sides stood frozen, staring at each other in awkward silence. Without a word, Touko quietly opened another door and stepped through, disappearing before the police could react or open the door fast enough to follow him.

After what felt like hours of searching, Touko was exhausted. He had teleported all over the town and still hadn’t found Najma. He rubbed his temples, thoroughly fed up with the entire situation. Damn you Corazon...

Just as he was about to give up, he spotted her. Najma was standing a few feet away, interviewing someone who, from the looks of it, wasn’t giving her any useful information. The person shrugged and walked off, leaving Najma with an exasperated sigh. She turned to continue her search and stopped when she saw a very tired and disheveled Touko standing right in front of her.

Before Najma could say anything, Touko raised a finger to her lips, cutting her off before she could speak. “Shut it,” he muttered, his tone drained of energy. “I’m just gonna follow you from now on.”

Najma blinked, stunned at his exhausted state. She thought about saying something sarcastic, but seeing how beat he looked, she simply nodded, holding back a smirk.

As Touko and Najma walked side by side down the quiet streets of Ravenswood, the tension between them seemed to have faded slightly, though there was still an undercurrent of irritation. After a while, Najma glanced at Touko, clearly tired of walking.

“Hey, can you just teleport us back to my place? I don’t feel like walking anymore,” Najma asked, expecting him to open one of his doors as he always did.

To her surprise, Touko shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

Najma furrowed her brow in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘can’t’? You’ve been zipping through doors all day.”

Touko sighed, clearly annoyed. “I can’t just create doors whenever I want, alright? There’s a cooldown connected to my soul pulse.”

Najma raised an eyebrow, still not quite getting it. “Soul pulse?”

Touko shot her an irritated glance. “You should know this by now.”

“Well, I don’t,” Najma retorted. “Corazon mentioned it once but never really explained it.”

Touko muttered something under his breath, clearly frustrated with Corazon. “Of course she didn’t explain it. Typical.” He took a deep breath before continuing, though his tone remained sharp. “Look, an Energy Pulse, or ‘soul pulse,’ is the core source of supernatural abilities—Miracles, as you call them. It comes from the soul. If your soul gets removed or damaged, you can lose your powers. Sometimes, people survive but lose their abilities, becoming normal humans. In other cases, they die and their bodies decay.”

Touko explained it so casually, as if it was common knowledge, but Najma’s stomach churned at the thought. “Wait... so if someone’s soul gets damaged or removed, they just... die?”

Touko nodded. “Yeah. It's a vital connection—no soul, no power. No life, in most cases.”

Najma felt a cold chill run down her spine. The way he described it was both fascinating and deeply unsettling. She couldn’t help but feel freaked out by the very idea that her Miracle, her life, was tied so heavily to her soul. “And you’re just... okay with that?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“It’s how it works,” Touko replied, shrugging. “No point in worrying about it. You deal with it or you don’t.”

Najma shuddered, but something about his explanation reminded her of the strange sightings in Ravenswood. A far-fetched thought popped into her head. “Wait... what if this ‘soul pulse’ thing has something to do with the sightings in the town? People disappearing, coming back different—maybe their souls are damaged or something.”

Touko rolled his eyes, clearly not buying it. “You haven’t even seen an undead person in this town yet. Don’t start making wild theories.”

Najma’s irritation flared up. “I’m not making wild theories! I’m just saying it’s possible. There’s been a lot of weird stuff going on here, and you can’t tell me this ‘soul pulse’ thing doesn’t make it more suspicious.”

Touko shot her a pointed look, clearly unimpressed. “You don’t even know how this works yet, and you’re already jumping to conclusions. You’re just grasping at straws.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert now?” Najma snapped back, frustration growing.

“I know more than you do,” Touko retorted, his voice low and cold.

The two continued to argue as they walked, their bickering echoing down the empty streets.

As Najma and Touko continued walking, the sky darkened, and the streetlights flickered on one by one. The sudden change in the atmosphere made everything feel eerily quiet. Najma glanced around, her instincts on alert.

“There’s barely anything around here,” Najma commented, her voice low. “It’s too quiet.”

Touko didn’t respond immediately, but Najma turned to him after a moment. “Can you use your doors again yet?”

Touko shook his head. “Nope.”

Najma sighed, stopping for a moment to rummage through her bag. She pulled out some gum and popped a piece in her mouth, briefly distracted as she zipped her bag back up. But when she looked back up, something caught her eye.

A figure stood in the distance, watching them from across the street.

Najma squinted, her breath catching in her throat. It was Henry.

Henry, the guy she’d seen earlier that day, the same guy who had ignored her—and now he was walking toward them, his eyes fixed on her. Najma raised an eyebrow and turned to Touko, about to ask why Henry was acting so weird.

But before she could get a word out, Touko's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of shock crossing his face. “I forgot to mention... that guy was spying on you earlier.”

“What?!” Najma whispered sharply, her heart starting to pound.

When she glanced back at Henry, something was off. He was closer than before. Much closer. But he hadn’t been running—at least, not that she saw. A chill crawled down Najma’s spine as she tried to make sense of how he closed the gap so quickly.

She glanced over at Touko, who was now visibly tense. His usually composed expression was replaced with something far more serious, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. “Najma,” he said, his voice low but urgent. “Run.”

Najma blinked, confused. “Huh-?”

Before she could finish her question, she turned back to face Henry and was horrified to find him right in front of her, his fist already drawn back for a punch. He moved faster than she could react.

Time seemed to slow as Najma froze, her brain screaming at her to do something, but her body not moving fast enough. Henry’s fist was inches from her face when Touko tackled her off the sidewalk, both of them crashing hard onto the ground. Henry’s punch landed on the brick wall behind them, leaving a huge crater in its wake. Dust and debris flew everywhere.

Touko and Najma lay on the ground, both shocked and horrified by the sheer force of the impact. They quickly scrambled to their feet, hearts pounding. “What the hell—?!” Najma started, but Touko cut her off.

“Get to safety!” Touko yelled, his voice sharp with urgency.

But before Najma could move, Henry’s foot connected squarely with Touko’s face, sending him flying into a nearby wall with a sickening thud. Touko crashed into the rubble, his body slumped against the debris, groaning in pain.

Najma stared at Henry, panic rising in her chest. “Henry!” she shouted, her voice shaking. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Henry didn’t respond. His face was eerily blank, his eyes cold and unblinking. He wound up another punch, this time aiming straight for Najma’s chest. In the split second before his fist connected, Najma braced herself, knowing she couldn’t avoid it in time.

Suddenly, a door appeared beneath her feet. Before she could process what was happening, she fell through the door, disappearing just as Henry’s punch swung through the air. The door vanished, leaving nothing behind.

Touko groaned, pushing himself up from the rubble, his body aching from the force of Henry’s earlier kick. His goggles hung loosely around his neck, the lenses shattered. He threw them to the side and narrowed his eyes, readying himself for round two.

Touko’s body ached, but his eyes locked onto Henry, assessing him carefully. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight, and he knew it.

Henry turned toward Touko, his face still cold and emotionless, his posture tense like a predator sizing up its prey. The air was thick with tension as the two stood facing each other, the quiet street eerily empty.

Henry made the first move.

In a blur of motion, he dashed forward with impossible speed, aiming another devastating punch at Touko’s head. But this time, Touko was ready. He opened a glowing door just in time, stepping through it and dodging the attack. Henry’s fist collided with the ground instead, cracking the pavement beneath it.

Touko reappeared behind Henry, but he didn’t have time to savor the small victory. Henry was already moving again, turning with frightening speed to swing his leg toward Touko’s torso. Touko ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow, and countered with a quick series of punches, aiming for Henry’s ribs. His hits connected, but it was like punching a brick wall—Henry didn’t even flinch.

“Damn it,” Touko muttered, realizing how tough his opponent was.

Henry smirked, his eyes gleaming with something almost animalistic. Without warning, he lunged forward, his speed blinding. Touko barely managed to sidestep, using another door to teleport a few feet away. But each time he used his doors, he felt the strain on his body, the cooldown of his ability starting to take its toll.

I can't keep dodging forever. Touko gritted his teeth, feeling the dull ache of fatigue creeping into his muscles. He needed to change tactics.

Henry came at him again, this time faster and more relentless. Touko dodged with a swift backflip, landing on his feet only to see Henry already closing in again. He’s too fast. Touko barely managed to block the next punch, the impact sending shockwaves up his arms and knocking him back several feet.

Touko winced, feeling the strength behind Henry’s punches. It’s like getting hit by a cannon...!

With a growl of frustration, Touko opened another door behind him, intending to put more distance between them. But as soon as he stepped through, his vision blurred. His body screamed in protest—he had already used too many doors, too quickly. He felt the penalty hit him like a tidal wave, his muscles seizing up in pain.

“Shit,” Touko hissed under his breath, stumbling as he reappeared on the other side. His legs wobbled, and he barely had time to catch his breath before Henry was on him again.

This time, Touko wasn’t fast enough to dodge.

Henry’s fist connected with Touko’s chest, and the force of the punch sent him flying back, crashing into a wall with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through Touko’s body as he slid down the wall, gasping for air. That punch... feels like my ribs are broken.

Henry, unfazed by Touko’s attempts to evade, stalked forward slowly, his gaze never leaving Touko’s crumpled form. He didn’t say a word—there was no need. His actions spoke louder than any taunt.

Touko struggled to get up, his body trembling from the penalty of using his doors too much. His vision swam, and every breath felt like fire in his chest. He glanced at the door he had tried to summon earlier, but the energy pulsing through him warned him not to push his limits further. If he tried to use another door now, it might just kill him.

Henry closed the distance with terrifying calm, raising his fist for another devastating strike.

Touko braced himself, knowing he was out of options.

Just when it seemed like things were about to go from bad to worse, something unexpected happened.

A glowing door appeared in the sky above them.

Touko’s eyes widened in confusion. I didn’t summon that. Before he could process what was happening, a figure leaped out from the door. Vines shot through the air, wrapping around Henry’s body with surprising speed and force. Henry, caught off guard, was yanked off his feet and tossed to the side like a rag doll, slamming into the ground with a thud.

Touko looked up, his eyes narrowing as he realized who it was. “Najma?!”

Najma landed on the ground with a grunt, clearly in pain from the high jump, but trying to hide it. Her hands trembled as she adjusted her stance, her breath coming in short gasps. She was tough, but Touko could tell she was pushing herself. “What the hell are you doing here? And how did you even get here?” Touko demanded, his voice sharp but tinged with shock.

Najma grimaced, straightening up despite the pain. “When I fell into your door, I ended up in some weird landscape filled with floating doors. I saw two that seemed familiar, and when I went for one of them, it started disappearing. I had to open it fast, and... well, here I am.”

Touko’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. She ended up in my dimension and made it back? He shook his head, frustrated. “I was trying to send you home! You need to run—this isn’t something you can handle.”

But Najma wasn’t having it. “Run? Are you serious?” she shot back, her voice filled with irritation. “I’m not running away. I didn’t come this far just to sit on the sidelines.”

Touko gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. “If it weren’t for Corazon, you’d already be dead, and I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess!”

Najma snapped, her own temper flaring. “If you hate me that much, then why did you bother saving me in the first place? Why open up to me about all your crap if you don’t care?!”

The heated argument came to a sudden halt as a chilling silence descended upon them. Henry was back on his feet, standing in the middle of them, his eyes glowing with cold intent. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the stillness.

Touko made the first move, trying to capitalize on the brief moment, but Henry was faster. With a single swift motion, Henry grabbed Touko’s face, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and slamming him down with a brutal force that shook the ground. Touko groaned in pain, his body crushed beneath Henry’s strength.

Najma reacted quickly, sending her vines shooting toward Henry in an attempt to restrain him again. But Henry was ready this time. He moved with blinding speed, dodging her attack and landing a powerful kick straight to Najma’s chest. The force sent her flying back, slamming into the wall. She bounced off it, landing on the ground with a pained gasp.

Both of them lay on the ground, struggling to catch their breath as Henry slowly turned his attention back to them, his calm, terrifying expression unchanged.

Najma groaned, pushing herself up from the ground. Her body ached, her chest throbbed from the kick, but she wasn’t about to let Henry have the last word. Gritting her teeth, she reset her stance, her muscles coiling with tension as she prepared herself for another round. Her eyes locked onto Henry, determination burning in them.

But Henry wasn’t about to give her the chance to prepare. He rushed at her, his speed unnerving, not even letting her get fully back on her feet. Najma barely had time to react, but when she did, her instincts kicked in—this wasn’t going to be a fair fight.

She didn’t need fair.

As Henry closed in, Najma ducked low, evading his punch at the last second and ramming her shoulder into his side. Her movements were rough, unrefined, but they had the unpredictability of a street fighter—a style she had known out of necessity.

Henry swung at her again, but Najma was already on the move, dodging his blows with scrappy, quick movements. She kicked at his knee, jabbed at his ribs, anything to slow him down. Henry was stronger, faster, but Najma could feel herself wearing him down, even if just a little.

With a grunt, she summoned her Miracle, letting vines coil around her fists, sharp thorns sprouting from them. The vines formed makeshift brass knuckles, but with the added viciousness of razor-sharp thorns. If brute strength won’t work, let’s see how you handle a bit of pain.

She rushed Henry, her movements sharp and relentless, throwing punch after punch with her thorn-covered fists. The first punch landed on his jaw, the thorns digging in slightly, drawing a grunt from him. The next hit connected with his ribs, and Najma could feel the thorns scraping against something hard—his bones, maybe. Henry staggered, slowing down, though his expression remained as blank and cold as ever.

He’s slowing down. Good.

Najma pressed the advantage, weaving in and out of his strikes, delivering a series of quick, brutal punches aimed at his torso and head. She swung hard, but as her punch missed his head by a hair, she felt the thorns on her fist catch on something. She ripped them away, and to her shock, Henry’s turtleneck tore, revealing the skin underneath—or rather, the lack of it.

His neck had a gaping hole, the flesh around it decayed and rotten. Through the hole, Najma could see clear to the other side, as if Henry’s body was rotting from the inside out.

“What the hell…?” Najma whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

But Henry wasn’t done. He lunged at her again, his speed faster than before, despite his decaying state. Najma tried to sidestep, but his strength overwhelmed her. His fist connected with her stomach, sending her flying upward. She gasped, the wind knocked out of her, her body twisting painfully as she soared through the air.

Najma’s brief moment of advantage was shattered, and she realized, as she fell toward the ground hard.

Henry stood over Najma, his eyes cold and unblinking as he watched her writhe on the ground. Najma’s body shook uncontrollably as she coughed, trying desperately to catch her breath, only to vomit a mixture of blood and bile onto the sidewalk. The force of Henry’s punch had knocked the wind out of her, and the pain was unbearable.

A few feet away, Touko was struggling to push himself up from the rubble, his body aching and bruised from his earlier encounter with Henry. He gritted his teeth, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something raw and dangerous. He glanced at Najma, seeing her in such a state, and something in him snapped.

“I swear to God,” Touko muttered under his breath, his voice low and furious, “I’ll kill you for this.”

Henry didn’t even acknowledge Touko’s words. His gaze remained fixed on Najma, who was barely managing to stay conscious. Her breaths were ragged, and every attempt to move sent a wave of agony through her body. Despite the pain, Najma managed to lift her head and look at Henry, her vision blurred but her mind racing.

“Why?” Najma gasped out, her voice hoarse and shaky. “Why are you... doing this?”

For the first time since the fight began, Henry spoke.

“I died,” Henry began, his voice low and almost distant, as if recounting a memory from another life. “In an alleyway. Cold. Alone.” His eyes flickered with something—regret, fear, anger—it was hard to tell. “I was dead... until she gave me a second chance.”

Najma’s heart pounded in her chest, even through the pain. “She?”

Henry nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a strange fanaticism. “The Umbrella Angel,” he whispered, his voice reverent. “She told me about you.”

Touko, who had finally managed to stand, froze, his gaze narrowing at Henry. The Umbrella Angel...

Henry took a deep breath, his expression shifting from reverence to something more intense. “She told me about your strength. Said you were... special. Said you had the power like a Child of God.”

Najma’s eyes widened at the mention. Child of God? That was a term she had never heard before, but something about it made her blood run cold. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus through the pain.

“Child of God?” Najma repeated, her voice weak but determined. “What are you talking about?”

Henry’s eyes gleamed with a wild light, his voice growing louder, more frenzied. “Yes, the Child of God! The power you possess—it’s unlike anything I’ve seen. She told me you had untapped potential. That you were the One.”

Najma’s mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. Untapped potential? What does that mean?

But Henry wasn’t done. His voice grew more manic, his words spilling out in a torrent. “You’re the One with the power to bring salvation to the world!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the stillness of the street. “You’re destined to save us all! She said so! The Umbrella Angel told me everything!”

Najma, still on the ground, could feel a knot of dread tightening in her stomach. Henry’s words didn’t make sense, but the conviction in his voice—the sheer madness—was terrifying.

Henry’s gaze suddenly sharpened, and his tone shifted, becoming eerily calm. “But because of that,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto Najma’s, “you must die.”

The chilling declaration hung in the air like a death sentence.

Before Najma could react, Henry lunged at her again, his fist raised to strike. But this time, Touko wasn’t going to stand by. He surged forward, trying to intercept Henry’s attack. However, Henry moved faster than Touko anticipated, grabbing him by the face and slamming him into the ground with brutal force, pinning him down.

“Touko!” Najma screamed, her body moving on instinct despite the pain.

Before she could launch another attack, Henry turned his attention to her, his face devoid of emotion. In a blur of motion, he kicked her square in the chest, sending her flying back into a wall with such force that she bounced off it and crumpled to the ground.

Both Najma and Touko lay on the ground, broken and battered, as Henry slowly approached them again.

Henry grabbed Najma by the front of her jacket, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. His eyes burned with the same unhinged intensity as before, and he wound up his fist for what looked like a final, devastating blow.

But before he could strike, something strange happened.

It started to rain.

The first few drops splattered on the ground, and Henry's expression shifted from murderous focus to wild excitement. His eyes lit up, and a crazed grin spread across his face as the rain began to fall harder.

“She’s here! She’s here!” Henry shouted, his voice filled with a feverish energy. Without warning, he threw Najma back to the ground next to Touko, his focus entirely diverted by the rain. He looked up, arms spread wide, as if waiting for something—or someone.

Najma groaned in pain as she landed next to Touko, but her confusion outweighed her injuries. “What the hell is going on?” she muttered, barely able to move.

But before Touko could respond, they both heard it—a soft, eerie melody carried on the wind. It was the sound of someone humming, and it seemed to echo from every direction. The tune was haunting, and while Najma didn’t recognize it, Touko’s face contorted with anger the moment it reached his ears.

“That sound...” Touko growled, his fists clenching. “I hate that damn humming.”

Najma struggled to her knees, trying to figure out what was happening. She looked up in the direction the humming was coming from and gasped. A raindrop, frozen mid-air, hung above them. Standing on it, impossibly balanced, was a figure holding an umbrella.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, revealing the woman’s appearance in full. Her long, braided hair shimmered, adorned with coins that sparkled even in the dim light. The intricate design of her hair was almost royal in its elegance. She wore a poncho hoodie that draped over her shoulders, and around her waist, chains were tightly wrapped, clinking softly with each step she took.

Najma’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. It’s exactly how Henry described her...

The woman—the Umbrella Angel as Henry called her—continued to hum softly, stepping gracefully from raindrop to raindrop as if they were solid ground. Each movement was fluid, otherworldly, and hypnotic. But what unsettled Najma the most was the mask covering her face. It concealed her features completely, giving her an air of mystery and menace.

She moved closer, descending toward them, her eyes—or where her eyes should have been—fixed on Najma.

The rain fell harder, the air thick with tension as the humming continued. Henry was nearly trembling with excitement, as if the mere presence of this woman was a blessing.

But for Najma and Touko, it was something far more dangerous.

As the rain fell harder, Henry stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with excitement as he gazed up at the Umbrella Angel, or as she was now known—Tempest. His earlier aggression and cold demeanor had melted away, replaced by an almost childlike reverence. “She’s here!” he exclaimed over and over, his voice trembling with glee. “Tempest! She’s here!”

Najma lay next to Touko, still coughing and weak, struggling to process everything. But something about Henry’s sudden shift in behavior sent alarm bells ringing in her mind. As she looked at Tempest, descending gracefully from raindrop to raindrop, Najma couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no savior.

Henry’s excitement quickly turned into something else. Tempest’s masked face turned toward Najma, her humming still lingering in the air. But as she walked toward them, her focus shifted entirely to Henry. The closer she got, the more Henry’s excitement gave way to fear. His body tensed, and his hands started to tremble. He took a shaky step backward.

“Wait...” Henry muttered, his voice cracking. “I was just trying to... I was fixing the situation. I was trying to finish the job, my angel.”

Tempest’s footsteps quickened, her presence growing more menacing with each step. The sound of her humming stopped, and the silence that followed was deafening. Henry took another step back, his body now visibly shaking.

“I explicitly told you not to harm the Fragment,” Tempest’s voice rang out, firm and authoritative, cutting through the rain like a blade. Henry’s breath hitched as he tried to stammer out an excuse.

“I-I was just trying to carry out your will,” he pleaded, his voice growing desperate. “I swear, I was just doing as you ordered. I didn’t mean—”

Tempest’s hand shot out with blinding speed, grabbing Henry by the head and turning him to face the scene. Najma, Touko, and the wreckage of their fight were laid bare in front of him. Henry’s body went rigid, his eyes wide with terror as he struggled to speak.

“Does this look unharmed to you?” Tempest’s voice dripped with irritation as she released him, letting Henry fall to the ground with a dull thud. His knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed, groveling at her feet.

“Please, I didn’t mean to displease you,” Henry begged, his voice quivering with fear. “I just wanted to help... I didn’t want to fail you.”

Tempest didn’t even flinch. With a swift, casual motion, she brandished her umbrella, pointing it directly at Henry’s head. The air grew thick with tension, and Najma felt her heart race. Something terrible was about to happen.

Henry’s face fell instantly, the realization of what was about to happen washing over him. His expression crumpled into pure horror as he began to mutter desperately under his breath, “I don’t want to die... I don’t want to die...”

Tempest's voice was calm but cold.

 “Death Reversal.”

A blinding beam of light shot out from the umbrella, enveloping Henry in its glow. His screams filled the air, echoing through the rain-soaked street. His body convulsed violently as it began to decay before their eyes, the flesh rotting away at an alarming rate. His voice grew weaker and weaker until all that remained was a hollow, terrified whisper.

“I don’t want to die...”

And then, silence.

Henry’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground, his decayed remains crumbling into the mud. Tempest kicked his corpse aside with a casual, almost dismissive gesture, sending it skidding across the wet ground like a discarded piece of trash.

Najma and Touko, both still too injured to move, could only stare in stunned silence. Their bodies remained frozen, a mixture of pain and shock keeping them locked in place as Tempest slowly approached.

But instead of addressing the gravity of what just happened, Tempest’s tone shifted into something eerily cheerful. “Well, I didn’t expect things to go quite like this,” she said, her voice light and upbeat, as if she hadn’t just executed someone in cold blood.

Najma’s breath caught in her throat as Tempest stopped in front of her. “Since we’re all here, I suppose it’s time for a proper introduction.”

Tempest paused, looking down at Najma with the same unsettling cheerfulness. “I am Tempest,” she said with a playful edge, her voice almost mocking in its friendliness.

Najma’s heart pounded, her body trembling as she stared up at this mysterious, terrifying figure. “Tempest?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.

Tempest tilted her head, the coins in her braided hair clinking softly. “Yep! And I’ll be the one to end your life!”

The words hung in the air, chilling Najma to her core.

Tempest's eerie cheerfulness contrasted sharply with the chaos and violence she had just unleashed. As Najma lay on the ground, still struggling to breathe, Tempest approached her with a spring in her step, humming softly to herself as if she hadn’t just killed a man in cold blood.

Before Najma could react, Tempest bent down, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her up onto her feet. The sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through Najma's body, and she winced, barely able to stand on her own. Tempest, however, didn’t seem to notice—or care. She wrapped an arm around Najma’s shoulders like they were old friends, pulling her close in a disturbingly casual manner.

“There we go! Standing on your own two feet again!” Tempest chirped, her voice filled with a bizarre cheerfulness. Najma was still in too much shock to speak, her mind racing as she tried to process what was happening.

Tempest turned her head, and her eyes—what little Najma could see of them behind the mask—lit up with recognition as she spotted Touko, who was still struggling to push himself up from the ground.

“Oh! You’re here!” Tempest exclaimed, waving at him as if they were meeting at a casual get-together. “Long time no see!”

Touko’s face was filled with barely contained anger. He glared at Tempest, his body tense with fury, but he was still too weak to retaliate. “Tempest...” he muttered, his voice filled with venom.

Tempest seemed to ignore the anger in his tone, her grin never faltering. “Sorry about Henry! He wasn’t really part of the plan. I just saved him because I was sooo bored!” She chuckled, as if the whole situation was nothing more than a joke.

Najma, still trying to make sense of everything, turned to Tempest with a mixture of confusion and fear. “What do you mean when you said you’d be the one to ‘end my life’?” she asked, her voice shaky.

Tempest didn’t miss a beat. "Indeed!" she replied with chilling nonchalance, her tone bright as if discussing the weather. "But not quite yet."

Najma blinked, a shiver running through her despite the arm still draped over her shoulders. "Why not now?" she couldn’t help but ask, her curiosity momentarily overriding her fear.

Tempest crouched down slightly, getting closer to Najma’s face. She rested her umbrella casually on her shoulder, then, with a playful grin, she reached out and gently booped Najma’s nose.

“You haven’t quite reached your peak yet,” Tempest explained, her tone almost conversational. "Your Potential is still growing. So, I’m going to send people after you. And everyone you care about." Her eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of excitement. “Once you’re fully prepared, we’ll have a proper fight, and you’ll meet your proper death. Isn’t that exciting?”

Najma’s heart pounded in her chest. The words "proper death" echoed in her mind, sending a wave of cold fear through her. She glanced at Touko, who was glaring at Tempest with unbridled hatred, but even he seemed powerless to stop her at this point.

Tempest, however, seemed unconcerned with either of their reactions. She stretched her arms dramatically and stepped back, smiling widely. “Well, that’s all for today then!” she declared, her voice filled with a sickeningly sweet delight. “Until we meet again, Black Star.”

Najma flinched at the use of that name. Black Star? The title felt ominous, like it held far more meaning than she could grasp in the moment.

As casually as if she were cleaning up after a picnic, Tempest turned and walked over to Henry’s lifeless corpse. With little effort, she picked it up and, without a second thought, tossed it into the street, where a passing car smashed into it, scattering the remaining blood and body parts everywhere.

The car swerved too late, crashing into Henry’s body, sending pieces of flesh and blood scattering in every direction. Some of it splattered onto Tempest and Najma, the wet thud of body parts hitting the street making Najma’s stomach turn. Tempest, for her part, didn’t seem to mind the gore at all. She simply wiped a stray drop of blood from her mask with a delicate finger and flicked it away.

Najma flinched, her face contorted in disgust and horror, but Tempest simply brushed it off, as if it were no more than a little dirt.

“Oops!” she giggled, twirling her umbrella with a bright, unsettling smile. “See you soon!”

With one last hum, Tempest spun on her heel and walked off into the rain, Najma's mind screamed at her to move. I can’t let her go. Not like this.

Ignoring the pain wracking her body, Najma forced herself to take a step forward. Her legs wobbled, nearly giving out beneath her. Just a little further... she thought, gritting her teeth as she pushed herself to move. But her body wasn’t listening anymore. Every inch of her ached, her vision blurred, and her head felt like it was splitting apart.

“Stop...” Najma muttered, her voice barely audible as she stumbled forward, trying desperately to chase after Tempest. But it was no use. Her body had reached its limit.

She collapsed onto her knees, her vision growing dim as her strength drained away. The world around her became a blur of rain and darkness. The only sound left was the rain, growing heavier with each passing second, pounding against the pavement like a heartbeat. It drowned out everything else.

The distant sound of sirens cut through the storm, growing louder as they approached. But for Najma, they were just distant echoes, growing fainter as her consciousness slipped away.

She tried to stay awake, tried to fight the overwhelming exhaustion. But her body betrayed her, and with one last breath, her eyes fluttered closed, and everything went black.

The rain continued to fall, washing over her as the world faded into silence.