They walked a short distance until they reached a structure that didn't just sit on the street—it dominated it. The building was an imposing fusion of traditional Stygian stone-work and aggressive modern design. High walls of polished, midnight-colored stone gave it the severe, minimalist aesthetic of a military fortress, but the roofline told a different story. It curved elegantly toward the sky, adorned with elaborate carvings and topped by a gilded crest—the kind of architecture usually reserved for ancient houses of worship.
"What the hell is this? A place to pray or a place to live!?" T'Jadaka asked, raising an eyebrow at the jarring combination.
"This is the head family manor," Yui explained, leading him toward massive, carved mahogany doors. "It was built on the site of our original clan shrine centuries ago. Over time, we just swallowed the shrine into the mansion. It's so big that half the extended family lives here, too."
T'Jadaka let out a low whistle. "You guys must be pulling in serious bank to keep a fortress like this in mint condition."
Yui giggled, a spark of pride in her silver eyes. "We do alright. Now, let's head inside. My dad is likely waiting in the main hall."
They stepped onto polished stone floors that gleamed like dark water under the overhead lights.
"This is where we do the basic stuff," Yui said, gesturing to a row of heavy doors. "Weight room, family mess hall, and the dojo where we practice martial arts. We occasionally bring in Outsider teachers to train us, but—"
T'Jadaka cut her off with a sardonic grin. "But they're only allowed to teach because they're seen as potential 'donors' for the Stygian gene pool."
"Bingo!" Yui's eyes sparkled.
"It was obvious," T'Jadaka admitted with a shrug. "But even if I was interested in contributing to the family tree, you guys must know about the Viltrumlight curse."
Yui's expression turned serious, though her tone stayed casual. "The curse where the mother and child die if the partner is genetically incompatible for the parasitic fetus? Oh, we're very aware. I actually have a few cousins married to Viltrumlights."
T'Jadaka stopped dead. "Are you dead serious!? How is that even possible!? I thought that was a death sentence for normal people."
Yui gave him a slow, devilish smile. "Because we're not entirely human, either~" she purred, tapping the corner of her silver eye. "Our biology allows us to adapt to genetic threats like that. We're part demon, remember?"
"Huh... That's actually pretty cool," T'Jadaka mused. "Guess you could have kids with pretty much anybody."
"Pretty much," Yui replied, her voice dropping to a smooth vibration as she edged into his personal space. "So, if you ever want to start a family... I'm guessing I won't be too far from a call?~"
T'Jadaka let out a short, noncommittal "Wahoo," gently placing a hand on her shoulder and steering her back to a respectable distance. "Still too soon for all that. I just lost my V-card not too long ago, so you're definitely on the back burner. But... noted."
Yui let out a dramatic, audible sigh. "It was worth a shot. Come on, let's keep going."
They turned into the main corridor, an enormous space that stretched far beyond the norm. The hallway culminated in a raised dais where a massive, carved obsidian throne sat empty, dominating the far wall like a relic of a dead kingdom.
Standing near a towering column was Shikiba Stygian.
He was a canvas of controlled fury. His face was a mosaic of purplish bruises, and his right arm was encased in a glowing mana-cast. He wore a small, infuriating smirk as he saw them. T'Jadaka and Shikiba locked eyes, and the air in the hallway instantly thickened with hostility.
"Look who finally woke up from the ass-whooping I gave him," Shikiba drawled. "I thought I'd left you brain-dead."
T'Jadaka returned the smirk with flat contempt. "Well, you seem pretty pleased with yourself for barely making it out alive. Must be nice to be on equal footing with a 'commoner,' huh?"
Shikiba's eyes narrowed to silver slits. "The only thing 'equal' about you is that you were going to be on the same level as the dirt if my objective wasn't cut short. You're only alive on a technicality, trash~"
"Alright, boys, settle down," Yui intervened, stepping between them.
"You're right, I shouldn't worry about this cocky bastard," T'Jadaka conceded, his gaze never leaving Shikiba. "Eventually, he's going to play with his food too much and end up getting himself killed anyway."
Shikiba laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. "You say that like you're the one who almost did it."
"Oh, I know I did," T'Jadaka countered, leaning in. "I might not remember everything after the lights went out, but I have a feeling. Deep in your soul, you know you were in a bad spot because of your own arrogance. You can lie all you want, but you know I'm right. That's what your bitch-ass gets for thinking you're so superior—you let someone 'inferior' almost end you."
"WHO YOU TALKIN'—" Shikiba roared, his voice cracking with white-hot fury. His good hand clenched into a fist, but he caught himself. He took a shaky breath, his expression smoothing over into icy indifference. "Why am I yelling? I don't argue with common trash. Yui can speak for you."
T'Jadaka shook his head, delivering the final, stinging shot. "Man, shut your bitch-ass up and go get laid or something, virgin."
He turned and walked past. Yui fought hard to suppress a giggle. "Maybe if you had a girlfriend, you might mellow out a little, Shikiba," she managed, quickly following T'Jadaka.
The comment was the final straw. Behind them, a concussive CRACK echoed through the hall as Shikiba slammed his good fist into the stone column, leaving a spider-web of fractures in the rock.
"That felt fucking awesome," T'Jadaka muttered, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Yeah, I bet it did," Yui giggled. "Nothing gets under his skin faster than calling out his ego."
"Well, tell your mother I'm sorry she raised an asshole," T'Jadaka replied dryly.
As they reached the end of the long corridor, the obsidian throne was no longer empty.
The man sitting there commanded the entire room without saying a word. He was clad in a simple, heavy black kimono and haori. Long, straight black hair flowed down his back, with chin-length strands framing a face marked by subtle, dark shadows beneath his eyes. He sat slumped, his posture radiating a profound, disinterested melancholy.
Bro, I don't know what's up with him, but the aura coming off this guy is heavy... T'Jadaka thought. He feels immensely strong, but completely exhausted.
"Daddy!" Yui cried, her composure melting. She ran to the dais and threw her arms around the seated man.
He smiled—a fleeting, almost painful expression. "Hey, my little princess. I'm glad to see you again," he murmured.
T'Jadaka raised an eyebrow. Again? Like he doesn't see her often?
"Oh!" Yui pulled back, pointing enthusiastically at T'Jadaka. "Dad, this is the boy you told us to save. His name is T'Jadaka."
The man's eyes, the same cold silver as his children's, fixed on T'Jadaka. He rose from the throne with a fluid, terrifying grace. T'Jadaka had to crane his neck; the man was a giant, easily seven feet tall. He walked off the dais, his movements deliberate, until he stood directly in front of the boy.
"I see. T'Jadaka," the man said, his deep voice carrying a weary resonance. "The son of the infamous Raiken, the last of the Mazoku... and Farrah the Reaper, a daughter of the Yamazato Tribe. You possess a uniquely potent, albeit tragic, lineage."
T'Jadaka rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks...? I don't really know how to feel about 'infamous.' But let's get straight to it. What made you call off the hit on my mother? I want the truth."
The man smiled faintly. He returned to the throne, and Yui immediately nestled onto his lap. "A reasonable question," he conceded. "Before you were even born, your father, Raiken, came to us."
T'Jadaka's head snapped up. "Really!? What did he say? I thought he hated your clan."
"He told us, in no uncertain terms, not to take any future bounties involving Farrah," the patriarch explained. "He also told us she was likely Yamazato. That warning, coupled with our history with her tribe, prompted me to keep a close eye on her." He sighed. "Shikiba was never supposed to take that mission; he was meant to gather intel and report back. For his insubordination and the disrespect he showed your family... I apologize."
T'Jadaka shrugged. "I mean, he's a dick, but it's not the first time someone tried to kill me. I just have beef with him for being an asshole about it."
"Your reaction is surprisingly mild," the father noted. "But perhaps that is your lineage. As for Shikiba... he simply inherited our family's curse."
"Oh great," T'Jadaka muttered, rolling his eyes. "Mazoku curse, Viltrumlight curse, and now a Stygian one? How perfectly coincidental."
Yui spoke up, her voice serious. "Every few births, a child is born who will be the strongest in our entire lineage. We identify them by their lack of humanity. Shikiba lacks fundamental concepts like empathy, compassion... sometimes even love."
"To put it simply," her father continued, "he is a black sheep. A pure engine of destruction. It might calm with time, but you cannot tame his nature. I will say, however... after fighting you, his demonic side has actually settled a little."
"Probably because I'm the only one who didn't just roll over for him," T'Jadaka suggested.
"Likely," the father agreed. "Also, you share your father's trait—no Mana. An anomaly among anomalies. But since you are Yamazato, you have access to all of our assets."
T'Jadaka blinked. "Wait, WHAT!? Why?"
Yui giggled. "Since your tribe was so kind to us, we agreed long ago that any Yamazato kin is free to use our resources. It's only fair."
Her father smiled warmly. "You could also marry into the clan, which would make you immune to the Viltrumlight curse. Since you have very little Yamazato in you, we might actually be able to produce viable offspring."
Yeah, I'm still not sold on the stud horse thing, bro... T'Jadaka thought. "That's cool and whatever, but I need to get home. I haven't even buried my mom yet. I have people relying on me."
Kinjiro let out a low, weary chuckle. "Yeah, you definitely have the Yamazato spirit. That kindness and the refusal to quit. How about this? We'll keep an eye on your people for you. We'll even tell them you're fine."
T'Jadaka's hope flared, then died at the look in the patriarch's eyes. "But?"
"I would like for you to stay here for three years," Kinjiro stated. It wasn't a request; it was a decree. "And let us train you."
"Three years!?" T'Jadaka exclaimed. "Yo... that's a—"
"A long time? Be honest, T'Jadaka," Kinjiro countered. "You literally have nothing but time on your hands."
T'Jadaka went silent. The truth of his longevity hit him again.
"Daddy, I don't think we should make it seem like we're forcing him," Yui said.
"We aren't," Kinjiro said. "He can reject it. But it's a wasted opportunity. If I hadn't called off the order, Shikiba would have killed you. And you know this."
"I know, but Viltrumlights get stronger from every battle," Yui pressed. "He might be close to him now."
Kinjiro turned his dark silver eyes on T'Jadaka. "Do you honestly think you can survive a rematch once he's fully healed and going all out?"
T'Jadaka shook his head slowly. "No."
"Then he understands." Kinjiro stood up. "We start tomorrow. Sleep well and learn well, T'Jadaka. I have a feeling we can make a real warrior out of you."
"Before I go, two quick questions."
"Sure."
"What's your name, and are you the strongest one here?"
Kinjiro smiled fully this time. "It's Kinjiro. And yes, I am."
"Bet. My goal for the next three years is to surpass you."
The room went silent. Yui gasped. Kinjiro threw his head back and laughed—a booming, genuine sound. "That's the spirit! I guess we'll see. Yui, show him where he can sleep."
Inside the hotel's makeshift kitchen, the air was thick with the rhythmic clack-clack of knives and the sharp, comforting sting of frying spices. Vitaliya leaned over the stove, steam curling around her face as she tasted the sauce.
"Still hard to believe his family had those connections all this time," Vitaliya remarked, adjusting the heat. "Worked out for the best, though. The Stygians have been keeping us afloat while he's been away playing soldier."
Lilia's movements slowed. She stood at the cutting board, her knife resting against a half-chopped carrot. "Yeah. I'm grateful. It's just... twice a month isn't enough." She let out a breath that caught in her throat. "I wish I could see him more. Even if we did break up..." A shadow of genuine, lingering ache crossed her features.
"It was for the best, Lilia," Vitaliya said, her voice dropping an octave. She began plating the food, the porcelain clinking softly. "He's looking at a horizon we can't even see. Outliving everyone... I bet ending it was harder on him. Imagine knowing you're going to watch the person you love turn to gray and dust while you stay exactly the same." She shot Lilia a quick, sharp smirk. "Besides, you two aren't 'official,' but you're sure acting like a couple whenever he sneaks back. Domestic bliss, sharing a bed until the sun comes up and he has to vanish again~"
Lilia's face went from pale to a vivid, burning crimson. "Vitaliya! You know that's not—ugh!" She buried her face in her apron, her voice muffled and frantic. "Why do you always have to do this!?"
Vitaliya's laughter was a bright, rare sound in the quiet hotel. "Oh, relax. I'm teasing! We're eighteen now; we can admit what's happening under the covers when the 'warrior' comes home."
"Still... things haven't been the same since Marla passed. And since Remigio left," Lilia whispered, her playfulness vanishing.
"He was kidnapped as a baby, Lilia. He's probably happy to be back with his 'royal' bloodline," Vitaliya countered, though the lightness in her tone felt forced. "But look at the bright side: it's been three years. He's coming home for good soon. You should be excited."
Lilia exhaled, a shaky, uncertain sound. "I am. Truly. But everything is moving so fast... I don't know if it's changing for the better or the worst."
Vitaliya turned, her expression suddenly stone-sober. Her dark eyes locked onto Lilia's. "Only time will tell, Lilia. And being completely honest? I'm not sure you or I will live long enough to see the final answer. Only Jadaka will."
Lilia stared at her, the knife forgotten. The full, crushing weight of his longevity finally settled in the room like a physical presence.
In the Forest
Ruy was a ghost in the canopy. He perched high in the dense branches, his eye pressed to the scope of a high-powered hunting rifle. His breathing was a slow, mechanical rhythm. Below, a deer herd grazed, oblivious.
"Come on, God damn it…" he breathed, his finger ghosting over the trigger. "One of you has to be the boss."
The local white-tails were monsters—five hundred pounds of lean muscle and bone. He needed a clean drop: heart or head. Finally, the crosshairs settled on a magnificent specimen, a colossal buck with a rack like a crown, standing off to the side.
"I got you now, you big fuck…"
Ruy's finger tightened. Just as the sear was about to break, the buck went rigid. Its head snapped up, nostrils flaring.
What the hell?
Ruy shifted the scope. Standing directly in front of the charging-weight of the buck was a solitary figure. They wore a heavy black hoodie, the lower half of their face masked, head bowed.
"Is this dude crazy!?" Ruy hissed, panic surging. "He's gonna get flattened!"
He lowered the rifle and yelled, his voice muffled by the damp wood. "Hey! If you're trying to use magic, forget it! Their hide is mana-resistant!"
The figure didn't flinch.
The buck snorted, pawing the loam, and then it launched—a living battering ram of muscle and antler aimed straight at the intruder's chest. Ruy snapped the rifle back up, but the angle was gone.
I'm not gonna make it!
The hooded person didn't dodge. They didn't even brace. They simply reached out one hand and clamped onto the buck's massive antlers. The impact drove the person's boots back a few inches, carving trenches into the forest soil, but their posture stayed rock-solid. The buck's momentum hit a brick wall. It was a dead stalemate.
"How the hell…?" Ruy breathed, his jaw hanging open.
"You're a handsome little thing, huh?" The person's voice drifted up—low, amused, and terrifyingly calm. They cracked the knuckles of their free hand.
In one fluid, blurring motion, the person pressed two fingers flat against the center of the deer's chest. There was no bang, no flash—just a thin, invisible ripple of energy that punched through the animal's hide. The buck collapsed instantly. A silent, massive heap of meat.
"That should have did it," the figure said, casually dusting off their palms. "But I don't know... maybe the heart worked quicker than the head."
Ruy lowered his rifle, his heart hammering against his ribs. He descended the tree with cautious haste, stepping into the clearing.
"Hey. I know you killed it and all, but I was tracking that thing first," Ruy said, keeping his voice steady as he stepped out from the thicket. "So, you wouldn't mind if I take it, right?"
The person turned, their posture radiating a casual, dangerous indifference. "Of course I don't. After all, we're both planning on eating this later."
Ruy frowned. "I wouldn't say that... but I don't mind sharing. I have to bring this back to my family, though."
The figure let out a short, dry chuckle. "Three years, and you still don't recognize my voice? You should be ashamed of yourself, Ruy."
Ruy froze. The timbre, the slight depth, the rhythm of the words—it clicked.
"Wait… Bro!?"
The person reached up and shoved back the heavy hood. T'Jadaka stood there, taller, broader, with a confident smile that actually reached his light-brown eyes.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
After field-dressing the deer, they started the trek back. T'Jadaka effortlessly hoisted the five-hundred-pound carcass onto his shoulder as if it were a sack of flour.
"You sure you got that? It's a haul," Ruy said, watching the display with a mix of awe and concern.
"The Stygians didn't just teach me how to punch harder, Ruy. They gave us tools." T'Jadaka pulled a small, metallic device from his pocket—a stylized dog tag. He pressed a button, and the deer carcass began to hum, floating a few inches above his shoulder. "I had them send over some tech to the hotel. This is basically a magical forklift. Minimal effort."
T'Jadaka's casual tone didn't quite hide the flicker of worry in his eyes. "You haven't missed me too much, right?"
Ruy let out a heavy sigh, kicking a stone down the trail. "I haven't, 'cause I knew you were fine. But you know one person did."
T'Jadaka's smile vanished. His voice went quiet. "Did she take it hard? The breakup?"
"It nuked her. But she'll never tell you that," Ruy admitted. "She pretends she's okay because she understands. She knows she might fall in love a few times in her life, but you... you can barely afford to do that. Because even if you stay for their whole lives, when they're gone... the cycle just restarts. God forbid you eventually go numb to it."
T'Jadaka's gaze dropped to the forest floor. "Honestly? That's what scares me most. I wonder if that's what my dad feels—that cold, detached indifference. Like every bond he makes is just a death sentence he has to watch play out."
Ruy rubbed his shoulder. "I don't know your dad. But I think you'll deal with it better."
"Why?"
"Because you still have us," Ruy said, nodding toward the floating buck. "You aren't facing that future alone. Your pops... he has nobody. That changes the math."
"I guess. I'll have to find him and ask," T'Jadaka murmured. He straightened his shoulders, the weariness replaced by a grim, sharp focus. "But first, I need to do some catching up. And some... 'cleaning,' too."
Ruy looked at him, confused. "Cleaning? What's that mean?"
T'Jadaka didn't answer. He just fixed his gaze on the hotel appearing through the trees. Ruy watched him for a beat, then shrugged. I don't think you'll do anything crazy, he thought, a sense of relief washing over him. I'm just glad you're home.
Vitaliya pushed her plate away with a long, contented sigh. "I have to say, we've really outdone ourselves tonight, if I do say so myself."
Lilia's smile was gentle, a small flicker of warmth in the dim kitchen. She reached for a worn, kitchen-stained book on the shelf and tapped the cover. The title, written in a familiar, elegant script, read: Marla's Love Recipes. "Don't give us too much credit, Viti. If Marla hadn't left us this, we'd still be stuck with instant ramen and whatever we could throw in the microwave."
"Geez, that sounds exactly like something Jadaka would say. He's rubbed off on you more than I thought."
"Says the one who's started acting like a MasterChef," Lilia shot back, folding her arms over her chest.
"Okay, look here, you—"
A sharp, heavy rap on the door cut through the banter. Lilia moved to the entrance and pulled it open. "Ruy! How was the hunt?"
Ruy stood there, chest heaving, gesturing over his shoulder. Lying neatly on the porch was a massive, field-dressed deer. "It went well. I got a big boy this time."
Lilia's eyes widened. "Jesus. Are you sure your rifle could even take down something that size!?"
"I don't know," Ruy admitted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Somebody killed it before I could even get a shot off. They just... left it for me."
Lilia stepped out, a frown of confusion deepening. "Wait. If you didn't kill it, then who did?"
"That would be me."
The voice was low, resonant, and came from just beyond the shadow of the deer.
Lilia's breath hitched. Her body locked in a sudden, cold paralysis of shock. Her gaze fixed on the silhouette of a man standing in the dark, draped in a heavy black hoodie. It can't be... She slowly turned toward the sound.
The figure reached up. The hood dropped.
The light from the hallway spilled over T'Jadaka's face. His features were sharper now, more defined, the boyish softness replaced by a hard, clean edge. His expression was a messy mix of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated relief.
"You look different," Lilia whispered, her voice a raw, thin thread of sound.
He offered a small, tired smile. "Did you change your hair?"
Lilia didn't answer. She couldn't. She only stared at his face as hot tears began to track through the light dust on her cheeks, the shock melting into a wave of raw emotion. "Jadaka... Is it really you...?"
"Yep. No more sneak-aways, Lilia. I'm home for good this time."
With a cry that was half-sob and half-gasp, she launched herself at him. She slammed into his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck as she began to shake violently. The sound of her desperate, muffled crying brought Vitaliya racing from the dining room.
"T'Jadaka!? You're back!" Vitaliya shrieked, tears instantly flooding her own eyes.
T'Jadaka held Lilia tightly, burying his face in her hair for a second before looking up to meet Vitaliya's gaze. "Hey, Vitaliya."