The battlefield was still, the tension so thick it felt like a cord pulled taut, ready to snap. Rika’s glowing cyan eyes locked with the Ghoul’s cold, unflinching gaze. The tip of her Aura-tail hovered inches away from the Ghoul's throat, coiled to deliver a lethal strike. Threads from the Ghoul shimmered in the air, ready to constrict Rika if she made the slightest move. Neither dared to breathe too loud.

Then, simultaneously, the shrill brrring of two phones shattered the silence, cutting through the chaos of the arena like a knife. Both Rika and the Ghoul glanced, for the briefest second, at their respective pockets, but neither moved. The sound faded, and the world fell back into its suspended tension.

The phones rang again. This time, the Ghoul’s hand twitched, her expression shifting ever so slightly—annoyance, maybe, or something else. A small click followed as she tapped her headset.

“What is it?” the Ghoul murmured into the headset, her voice flat but impatient. A pause. Then, with a curt, “Okay,” she dropped her threads, releasing Rika from their grip.

Rika blinked, startled, her tail poised to strike but frozen mid-motion as the Ghoul stepped back. The tension between them unraveled in an instant, though the air still crackled with unease.

The Ghoul tilted her head slightly toward Rika, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "Pick up your phone," she said, her voice smooth and knowing.

Rika’s brow furrowed as she reached into her pocket, her tail still flickering, unsure whether to retreat or lash out. Her heart raced, suspicion thick in her chest. ‘What the hell is going on now?’

Rika’s Aura-tail slithered slowly back, curling behind her like a serpent withdrawing from prey. With narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone, her thumb hesitating over the screen for a split second before answering.

“Dad?” she whispered, voice taut with exhaustion and suspicion.

“Yeah, kid. Listen carefully.” Junpei’s voice came through steady but tinged with urgency.“I know you’re in the middle of something. But for now... I need you to follow the Ghoul’s lead.”

Rika’s stomach twisted. She glared at the Ghoul in front of her—smug, composed, and too at ease for someone who had nearly been skewered a moment ago. Rika’s tail twitched involuntarily, her cyan eyes still glowing faintly with distrust.

“You can’t be serious,” she hissed, gripping her phone tighter. “You want me to trust her?”

“I get it,” Junpei replied, his voice softer this time. “I know how this sounds. But you need to trust me. I have struck a deal with her boss. I’m working on the rest from my end, but right now, following her is your best bet. I’ll get you all out of this. I swear.”

Rika bit her lip. It didn’t sit right. Nothing about this made sense—fighting her way here just to take orders from the enemy? But her father’s voice was steady, unwavering. He wasn’t the type to gamble unless it mattered.

“What if this is a trap?” Rika whispered.

Junpei exhaled on the other end, frustration barely concealed. “Look, Rika, I’d never tell you to do this unless I was sure. And besides... Kazuki needs you to make it through this.”

Her heart sank at the mention of Kazuki. She glanced at him—bloodied, barely standing, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His face was pale, his lips cracked. There was no time to fight over pride or hesitation.

“Rika,” Junpei’s voice broke through the silence again. “Please.”

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She looked back at the Ghoul, who stood calmly, her dark gaze almost indifferent. The threads around her fluttered idly like a predator at rest, waiting.

Rika exhaled sharply, frustration burning under her skin. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll listen to her—for now.”

Junpei let out a small sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll stay on top of things from here. Just stay sharp, alright?”

Rika swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I’ll do what I can.”

The call ended with a quiet click. She lowered the phone, her hand trembling slightly with residual tension.

When she looked at the Ghoul again, there was no longer just anger in her gaze. There was something colder—resignation. “Lead the way,” Rika muttered, her voice low but firm.

The Ghoul smiled faintly, turning without a word, her threads sweeping across the floor as she moved. Rika clenched her fists, casting one last glance toward Kazuki.

‘We’ll make it out of this’ she thought. ‘We have to.’

With a heavy heart, she followed the Ghoul into the dark labyrinth.

***

Junpei stood across from the Manager, the dim overhead lights casting long shadows between them. His arms were crossed, but his gaze was sharp, unblinking, watching the man like a hawk ready to strike.

On the screen, Endo and Eiji stood panting, hands resting on their knees, catching their breath. The bodies of guards lay scattered around the floor, unconscious or worse.

"Your two friends seem to be holding up just fine," the Manager said, his tone casual as if commenting on a game rather than a deadly fight. “If you had struggled to meet my demands, I would’ve sent more guards to both the princess and them.”

Junpei’s jaw tightened. ‘He’s playing games,’ he thought.

“You’ve collected some exceptional talents, I must say,” the Manager continued, giving Junpei an amused glance behind his mask. “They have bright futures ahead. That is if they escape this place.”

Junpei’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening. “And what’s the point of this conversation? What do you want?”

The Manager chuckled. “Straight to the point, huh? Fine. I’ll be quick with you. I’ve planted Marmic Bombs throughout the building.”

The words dropped like stones into the silence, the air between them turning cold. Junpei’s heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained still—only the barest flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“You’ve what?” Junpei asked, voice low and measured.

“Marmic Bombs,” the Manager repeated, his grin never fading. “Enough to turn this whole place into rubble. Boom.” He mimed an explosion with his hands, as if it were nothing more than a clever joke.

Junpei’s mind raced. He had to fight back the wave of disbelief rising within him. ‘This can’t be real. He’s bluffing... isn’t he?’

“And why,” Junpei said slowly, narrowing his eyes, “would you tell me that?”

The Manager’s grin widened, his voice carrying a dangerous kind of amusement. “Because I want you to trust me. Trust in a better future. For all of us—including the Ghouls.”

Junpei stared at him, searching for cracks in the man’s facade. But the Manager stood there, the air around him radiating something between madness and conviction, as if he found genuine pleasure in his twisted proposition.

“You’re insane,” Junpei muttered under his breath, though his mind kept spinning.

“Maybe.” The Manager shrugged, unfazed. “Or maybe I see things you don’t. The old world is crumbling, Orochi. And when it finally falls, people like you and me? We need to decide which side we want to stand on when the dust settles.”

Junpei’s fists clenched at his sides, tension coiling in his muscles. He glanced at Endo and Eiji—still catching their breath, still unaware of just how high the stakes had become. He didn’t have the luxury of hesitation.

“Trust, huh?” Junpei muttered, locking eyes with the Manager. “You think dropping bombs and giving speeches will earn mine?”

“Maybe not yours.” The Manager chuckled softly, the sound chillingly relaxed. “Trust isn’t about comfort, Junpei. It’s about understanding what’s necessary.” He stepped closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. “And right now, what’s necessary... is that you play along. Or everything burns.”

Junpei stared at the man, heart pounding against his ribcage. The weight of the threat, real or not, pressed on his chest like a vice. But he knew one thing for sure—he had no choice but to move forward.

“You better hope this future of yours is worth it,” Junpei said coldly, his voice laced with steel.

The Manager smiled behind his mask, his grin widening ever so slightly. “I think you’ll come to see that it is.”