On the day Kazuki disappeared, the three Ghouls some how reached Eiji’s home, and none of them was in a good condition.
The room was dimly lit, with the shimmering moonlight filtering through the shoji screens, casting long, silver shadows on the wooden floor. The air inside Eiji's home was thick with tension, the kind of tension that comes when panic has been allowed to simmer too long.
The three of them—Rika, Endo, and Eiji—were gathered together, each lost in their own thoughts. The silence between them was heavy, oppressive, only broken by the occasional creak of the wooden beams as the house settled.
Rika's face was pale, her usually cold demeanor shattered by the events that had transpired. After Kazuki's sudden disappearance, an undercurrent of fear and guilt had taken root in her. She stared at the floor, her fingers idly twisting a strand of her hair as she replayed the events in her mind.
Next to her, Endo sat with his back against the wall, his eyes dark with worry. He had been the calm one, but even he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that something terrible had happened.
Eiji, on the other hand, was lying on the floor, covered in bandages and the smell of antisceptics coming from him, his nerves visibly frayed.
"Is he really coming out of Nantan?" Eiji asked, breaking the silence, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Rika nodded slowly. "Yes," she replied, her voice soft but firm.
"That's insane," Eiji said, shaking his head. The idea seemed too far-fetched, too dangerous, even for someone like Junpei.
"Kazuki is his disciple," Endo interjected, his voice carrying a weight that made both Rika and Eiji look up.
"Disciple?" Eiji repeated, confusion crossing his features.
"Yes," Rika confirmed, her eyes meeting Eiji's. "Kazuki even did the eating ceremony."
Eiji's eyes widened in shock. "What? The eating ceremony?"
The room fell silent again as the gravity of Rika's words sank in. The eating ceremony was something sacred among the Ghouls, a ritual that bound two individuals together, forging a connection that went beyond blood.
In the context of a disciple and master, it was even more significant. Unlike the equal bonds of a married couple or blood brothers, the student submitted to the master, taking a bite of their flesh to solidify the bond.
"So, he is Ryūsa no Orochi's disciple," Eiji said, his voice barely above a whisper. The realization hit him like a cold wave, sending a shiver down his spine.
“You didn’t know this, so let me tell you one more thing.” Endo said, as he got a little closer to Eiji, “He is also someone who eats Ghouls.”
Eiji’s eyes widened in disbelief, “No way! Is he one of those cannibalistic Ghouls?”. His eyes turned to Rika, who simply nodded.
“That explains why he suddenly jumped down and fought that Poacher, even landing a hit on him in that state.”
"Yeah, because of his initial hit on the Poacher, we were somehow able to use his staggering to our advantage," Endo said, his tone still carrying traces of disbelief.
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"Indeed," Rika added, her voice steadier now. "Otherwise, fighting him would have fucked us. And dad also told me that the Poacher we fought was someone with an Epithet as well. It's truly a miracle that we got out alive."
Epithet was more than just a name; it was the soul's true identity, a hidden essence that defined a person’s deepest potential. Each soul bore a different Epithet, a unique title waiting to be discovered. And once someone uncovered theirs, it was as if a door had opened—flooding them with strength and awakening a power that was theirs alone.
This wasn't some shared magic or a skill that could be taught; it was a personal ability, distinct and unmatched, whether they were human or Ghoul. An Epithet marked the beginning of something greater, something dangerous.
The weight of their words hung in the air and the silence that followed filled with a sense of helplessness. They were struggling to grasp the situation, to find a way forward when the path seemed shrouded in uncertainty.
"Well, what are we supposed to do now then?" Endo asked after a long pause, his voice carrying a note of desperation. "Kazuki wouldn't randomly disappear like that, so he was either kidnapped by mundane people, came across a Poacher or some Ghoul, or he was taken by Shoda."
Rika looked at him, her expression hardening as the weight of their predicament settled on her shoulders. "We can't sit around waiting for answers," she said, her voice resolute. "We need to find out which of those possibilities is true and act before it's too late."
“Wait, why did Sir Orochi take a cannibal as his disciple?” Eiji asked.
Endo slightly chuckled.
“Eiji he is not one of those crazy psychopaths who eat Ghouls for power and pleasure, no he has to consume Ghouls because that’s the only way for him to survive,” Rika said.
“Is he like the…Ghoul-Devourer?” Eiji was shocked.
As she heard what Eiji said, her eyes widened, and a shocking realization came to her.
“The Ghoul-Devourer” She muttered under her breath, as something she had heard a long time back resurfaced her memory.
Rika nodded her head sideways, “No, he has got nothing to do with that.”
“When Aiko died, her organs got transplanted into him, so due to biological stuff, he can only survive on Ghouls.” She continued, on the surface she seemed calm and steady, but underneath the pretense, her heart was pounding wildly.
***
When Rika was a little girl, barely eight years old, her father would sit by her bedside and spin tales of valor and heroics from ages past. His voice, deep and resonant, filled the small room with the echoes of great legends. The stories featured men and women, both human and Ghoul, who had shaped history with their bravery and strength.
Among these tales, there was one that always lingered in Rika's mind long after the story was told—the tale of the Ghoul Devourer. Her father spoke of this enigmatic figure mentioned in the folklore of Ghouls with a reverence that both intrigued and unsettled her young heart.
The Ghoul Devourer was a being of myth, a shadow that moved through time, a presence that was neither entirely of the past nor wholly of the future. It was said that this entity would one day rise to lead the Demons who had been lost, guiding them through the darkness left by the cataclysms of a bygone era.
Rika would listen, wide-eyed, as her father described the Ghoul Devourer—a figure cloaked in mystery, whose very existence blurred the lines between reality and legend. Even as a child, she sensed that this story held a weight that the others did not, a truth hidden within the folds of myth.
“The oldies say that he is the harbinger of an era, a leader for those demons who have lost their way, scattered and broken by the events of a forgotten age. In the quiet of the night, when the wind howls through the barren trees, the Ghouls remember, and they sing,” Her father had once said this to her.
“When time stands still
And shadows blend,
The Devourer stirs,
Where none descend.
Past and future fold as one,
He’ll rise where light is none.
Forgotten, yet always near,
He whispers fate you cannot hear.
When paths converge,
and night won’t end,
The Devourer’s reign
will then ascend.”