Chapter 37: The Date That Shouldn’t Exist

The next morning arrived quietly — too quietly for Kanata’s liking.

He stood at the train station, wearing a simple black jacket and gray hoodie. His right hand, still bandaged, was buried deep in his pocket as he sighed.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this…” he muttered.

“You look good, Nagisa.”
Nagisa’s voice came from behind him — she was dressed in a white sweater and short skirt, her crimson-black hair tied neatly with a red ribbon. The combination was both charming and disarming.

Kanata turned away immediately. “You’re too dressed up for this. It’s just a walk.”

“A walk?!” Nagisa gasped dramatically. “No, no, no. This is a D-A-T-E. You promised.”

He grumbled, looking at the ground. “Right. The curse of my own stupidity.”

They wandered through the streets of Tokyo together, side by side — stopping at cafés, arcades, and even a small park where the sakura trees were still half in bloom.
To anyone watching, they looked like a perfect couple.
To Kanata, it was torture.

“Smile a little,” Nagisa teased, sipping her iced coffee. “You’re supposed to look happy when you’re with a beautiful woman.”

“I’ll smile when I can breathe again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

She flicked his forehead lightly, earning a quiet glare from him. For a while, they walked in silence — but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Tokyo was alive around them: laughter, cars, wind, the faint sound of street musicians.

For once, Kanata let himself relax.

Meanwhile, in Nevantrax, the echoes of destruction still lingered.
Deep beneath the castle, Jeanne Augusmesta and Salvation stood before the remains of an ancient archive.

Stacks of parchment lay scattered, the smell of burnt ink heavy in the air.

“Are you sure about this, Your Majesty?” Salvation asked softly, clutching the half-burned remnants of the Destiny scroll.

“I am.” Jeanne’s tone was firm. “Every page, every trace of Caine’s spellcraft must burn. No one will ever use his cursed power again.”

The flame magic swirled in her palm. One by one, the fragments of the Destiny book ignited and turned to ash.

“Let this be the end of his madness.”

Outside, the people of Nevantrax watched the black smoke rise — a symbol that the age of false gods was finally over.

Or so they believed.

Back on Earth, Schwartz and Erika had settled into a small apartment on the outskirts of Shinjuku.
Boxes were stacked by the walls; magical seals flickered over the window frames to keep them hidden.

“You think the humans will notice us?” Erika asked, tying her hair into a ponytail.

“Not unless you breathe fire in public again.”

She pouted. “That was one time!”

Schwartz smirked faintly, gazing out the window.
“Still… something feels off. The Banshee case, the missing vampires, the hunters moving at night — all connected somehow.”

“You think Caine’s followers are still active?”

“Maybe. But if they are… we’ll find them.”

The room fell silent again. The world was calm, but they both knew peace never lasted long.

Elsewhere, under a silver sky in Nevantrax, a woman with long gray hair and violet eyes sipped tea in a lush garden.
Her name was Lilith Arcrayne, and she had been listening to every whisper.

“So… my dear brother has vanished.”
She placed the teacup down gently, her voice cold and deliberate.
“And now, they say the Four Witches are broken — because of one boy.”

A faint smile touched her lips.

“Tendou Kanata… you’ve made quite a mess.”

The flower petals around her began to tremble from the mana surge in her aura.
“If he really destroyed the balance, then I’ll make him fix it — even if it means breaking him first.”

Back in Tokyo, night had fallen.

Kanata and Nagisa sat on a park bench overlooking the glowing city skyline. The wind carried the faint scent of rain.

“You know,” she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder, “I never thought we’d have a moment like this.”

Kanata stared at the ground. “You mean… not trying to kill each other?”

“That too.” She chuckled quietly. “But more than that — just being here. Together. Alive.”

For the first time that day, Kanata smiled faintly.
“Yeah… I guess that’s nice.”

The moment lingered between them — gentle, real, almost peaceful.

Then his bandaged hand twitched.

The faint mark of the Right Hand of Oblivion pulsed with dark light, reacting to something far away — something old and familiar.

Nagisa lifted her head. “Kanata… what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the moon hung low and crimson.
Somewhere beyond that light… a voice whispered.

“The false god is gone… but the real one has yet to rise.”

Kanata stood up slowly, his pulse racing. The world around him felt heavy again.
Nagisa reached for his hand.

“Hey. Don’t go back there, okay? Not again.”

Kanata didn’t reply. He just stared at the glowing moon — its color deepening to blood-red.

In the far distance, in a realm unseen, a single dark feather fell from the sky — followed by a whisper that chilled the air:

“The Watchers have arrived.”