Orders of Light

The streets of Tokyo roared once again with chaos, dark energy spurting from cracks in reality. People screamed, stumbling over each other, oblivious to what—or who—threatened them. Some glimpsed shadows that did not belong to their world, flickering across neon-lit walls and rain-slicked asphalt. The scent of ozone mingled with the faint perfume of street food, mingled with the acrid smell of burning tar from scorched asphalt. The hum of malfunctioning electronics echoed through narrow alleys, punctuated by the clatter of overturned carts, shattering glass, and panicked footsteps. Steam hissed from manhole covers, twisting into ghostly spirals around the dark energy surges, while neon signs flickered violently, reflecting fractured fragments of light across puddles.

Amid shattered rooftops, dangling power lines, and the occasional overturned motorbike, Akihiro raised his sword, wings unfurling like soft mist, deflecting the dark energy. Each strike was precise, each demon halted or redirected. Sparks from clashing energy arcs showered onto graffiti-splattered walls and wet streets. His green eyes were sharp, devoid of unnecessary emotion. “Rei, left,” he commanded briefly, deflecting a demon’s attack, sending a wave of light across a wall plastered with torn posters and flickering billboards.

Rei darted around the first wave of demons, ribbons of light weaving with every movement. “Akihiro, your swings are almost predictable,” he smirked, redirecting attacks while ensuring civilians were safe. Every movement sent neon signs flickering, paper lanterns swaying violently, and holographic banners glitching in gusts of wind stirred by energy surges. Steam from vents below formed ephemeral halos around his light. A group of terrified pedestrians huddled in the shadows of a shuttered convenience store, their faces pale, eyes wide, clutching each other for protection. One old man, trembling, whispered a prayer as he pressed a child to his chest, eyes darting between the angels and the shifting shadows.

Ayame, her glossy black wings and flowing ribbons of light like rolling waves, deflected demons. “Akihiro, cover my left,” she whispered, her gaze betraying a quiet yearning for him, though her professionalism remained flawless. Every heartbeat matched the rhythm of their battle, her dark hair catching the glow of shattered street lamps, neon reflections in puddles, and the occasional shimmer of broken glass underfoot. Overhead, a monorail screeched as it came to an emergency halt, jolted by a nearby demon strike, while tiny sparks rained down from overhead power lines. Some citizens tried to flee down narrow alleys but froze as shadows warped reality around them, twisting the walls and muffling their cries.

Kaito’s wide wings deflected demon strikes, a wave of light spreading around civilians to shield them gently. “Rei, move that side group!” he murmured, voice an anchor amid chaos. Sparks from flickering streetlights danced around him as he subtly redirected energy, bending it away from panicked passersby. Even digital signage overhead pulsed in response to the energy flows, casting fractured reflections across puddles, bike racks, and overturned food stalls. A young woman pressed her forehead to a nearby wall, shaking as her dog whimpered at the distortion of space around them.

Daichi, with flaming wings and explosive strikes, roared, “Let them feel the power!” The ground shook; cracked asphalt hissed under his heat; demons fell; and the space around civilians cleared. Each hit was an orchestra of force, frozen in a suspended moment of time, and the city seemed to hold its breath beneath the chaos. Steam from sewer grates twisted into glowing swirls where his strikes met dark energy, painting the streets with ephemeral light. Overturned vending machines, tipped carts, and scattered umbrellas glowed briefly under the flare of his attacks. One teenager, staring up from behind a dumpster, whispered, “Are they… angels?” before ducking as a shadow skittered past.

But the streets weren’t haunted only by possessing types. From the cracks poured Screamers, shrieking shadows that distorted sound and paralyzed human minds; Wraithbound, translucent entities that fed on memory itself; and the Corruptors, hulking beasts whose tar-like bodies burned the asphalt they touched. Akihiro’s blade sliced through them one by one, light flaring where darkness tried to root, reflections dancing across shattered windows, puddles, and a flickering traffic light swinging precariously on its wires. Shouts and screams echoed from alleyways, blending with the electric buzz of broken signs, creating a cacophony that seemed almost alive. A vendor, frozen in fear, held onto a cart of steaming noodles, unable to decide whether to run or shield the customers beside him.

Rei sent a ribbon of light redirecting a possessed person. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he called as Akihiro parried a demon with precise strikes. Daichi shouted across the street, “Akihiro, faster! Their line is closing!”

Akihiro responded calmly, “Stay composed. Every strike counts. Protect the civilians.”

Ayame, redirecting waves of energy, murmured, “Every shadow is under control… almost.” Her eyes briefly glimmered at Akihiro before she refocused, catching reflections of flickering signage and neon in the mist of rain.

Rei grinned, dodging a shadow that slithered across a neon-lit alley. “Don’t expect a break anytime soon, right?”

Akihiro’s green eyes scanned the chaos around them—panicked civilians weaving between flickering streetlights, sparks leaping from cracked neon signs, umbrellas torn by gusts stirred from the battle’s energy. He parried another attack with precise, controlled movements, wings shimmering like silver mist in the rain-slicked streets. “Break?” he said quietly, his voice steady over the hum of overturned electronics and distant sirens. “Not for us. Every second counts—keep moving, keep them safe.”

A group of frightened bystanders pressed against the walls, shadows flickering across their faces as Rei redirected a possessed pedestrian. A young couple clung to each other, eyes wide as they glimpsed the angels’ wings in flashes of silver and black, unaware that every step they took was already guided safely by unseen forces. Akihiro’s focus never wavered, each swing measured, each step calculated—an anchor in the storm of chaos that threatened to tear the streets apart.

Kaito redirected a wave of light, “If we’re not precise, someone will get hurt. Focus.”

Daichi slammed the ground, sending an explosive wave of energy that repelled the demons. “Let them feel discipline!”

As the last demon fell, the streets seemed calm again. Angelic wings shimmered, ribbons of light reshaping the area. Repairers and Erasers moved subtly in the background: memory fog dissolving panic, reality stitching itself together, neon lights flickering back to life, holographic ads stabilizing, and shattered glass lifting from the streets as if by an unseen hand. Pedestrians slowly peeked from cover, blinking at their untouched reflections in puddles, unaware of the invisible guardians around them. Even the city’s neon-lit signs seemed steadier, as if Tokyo itself had exhaled.

Yet Akihiro sensed a subtle change: attacks were becoming more frequent, stronger, dimensional shifts bolder.

Rei sighed lightly, “This isn’t random. Someone is controlling the flow… or more than one.”

Ayame clenched her fist, “They’re getting stronger.”

Daichi nodded, “We need to find out who truly commands these forces.”

Kaito turned his gaze skyward. “Time to coordinate. The Guardians must be located.”

Akihiro nodded faintly, catching the word Kaito muttered amidst the rush: “Guardians…”

At that moment, a demon lurked in the shadows, watching and listening. Its red eyes glinted. “Guardians,” it muttered under its breath, then vanished, rushing to report to the Demon Prince, Ravukaru. Far away, in the distant darkness, away from the light of A-Academy, the Demon Prince Ravukaru lingered in his magnificent yet cold fortress of the dark dimension. His wings stretched like tattered shadows, eyes glowing red like molten embers. Dark energy swirled around him, permeating every stone, every tower.

Suddenly, a demon entered—quick, silent, aura still tense from the danger it had witnessed on Earth. “Your Majesty,” it murmured, “the angels… are searching for the Guardians.”

Ravukaru stared directly at the demon, his laugh a low rumble shaking the walls. “Guardians?” he repeated slowly, savoring the words. His hands flexed around his dark crystal sword, eyes alight with renewed desire. “What kind of Guardians could they be searching for… elemental? Human-born? Or something far older, hidden even from Heaven itself?”

He paused, letting the thought stretch like a shadow across the room. “Whatever they are, our plans must accelerate. Go. Find them before the angels do. Let demonic power claim those meant to bear the light.”

The demon nodded, disappearing into the shadows. Ravukaru remained alone, a feeling of cold cunning filling his heart. The first confrontation between the forces of light and darkness was set—but the game had only begun.

Back at A-Academy, Akihiro stood at the center of the Control Hall, eyes sharp, wings half-folded. “We’ll divide the Vanguard,” he said, his voice calm yet resonant enough to silence the hall. “Each of you will lead your own unit. The Guardians could awaken anywhere—and we’ll need to be there before the demons find them.”

He turned first to Rei. “You’re heading north, to Nikko. Disturbances in the energy flow suggest something ancient beneath the area. Take three angels—Tsubasa, Hikari, and Eren. Monitor every dimensional pulse. If the source aligns with water signatures, contain it before the demons do.”

Rei gave a short nod, eyes glinting. “Water, huh? Let’s hope she’s not the shy type.”

Next, Akihiro faced Kaito. Calm, steady, grounded—his aura was always the color of soil after rain. “You’ll go west, to Yamanashi Prefecture. Earth energy is spiking beneath the surface. If there’s resonance with Guardian frequency, you’ll know it. Take Arisa, Koji, and Nao.”

Kaito bowed. “Understood. If it’s tied to the Earth, it won’t stay hidden for long.”

Then Daichi stepped forward, fiery and impatient as ever. Akihiro almost smiled. “You’ll take your team to the south—Kyushu’s volcanic regions. If a Guardian is tied to fire, she’ll appear where the land breathes flame. You’ll lead Hikari, Minato, and Kenta.”

Daichi’s grin was pure defiance. “Perfect. I like it when the ground fights back.”

Finally, Akihiro turned to Ayame. Her presence was quiet, the air around her charged but gentle. “Head east, toward Mount Fuji. The winds there have shifted. Something—someone—is altering the atmospheric layers. Take two scouts with you. Stay unseen. If it’s tied to air, you’ll feel it before anyone else.”

Ayame bowed slightly, her dark hair catching light like silk. “The wind always whispers before it speaks. I’ll listen.”

Akihiro’s gaze swept across them all. “I’ll remain in Tama Hills. The activity here hasn’t slowed. Our base must stay operational, and the demons are growing bolder. Maintain communication. If you encounter signs of awakening, report immediately. Do not engage unless necessary.”

Rei raised an eyebrow. “And if necessary means the world’s ending?”

“Then,” Akihiro said quietly, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, “you improvise.”

Light flared as their orders synced into their devices. Wings unfolded—silver, gold, azure, and violet—each angelic unit vanishing into beams of radiance that streaked toward their destinations, leaving the neon-bathed city streets trembling in their wake.