Fear. Kafka could sense that there was fear in your eyes. You were added to Kafka's list, making you yet another target of the Devil Hunter. Nothing special, just another Devil for Kafka to hunt down and kill.

But there was a mistake; someone like you should not have been chosen as a target. Someone who can experience dread, which should not be possible.

You were cornered in a dark alleyway with no way out. Rain fell down on the both of you. You were on the ground, quivering like a leaf, with a horrified expression on your face.

"Get up," Kafka's voice commanded, her half-lidded eyes fixed on your trembling form, the same eyes that had witnessed constant slaughter.

When she noticed your hesitation, she withdrew her sword, which was pointed straight at your throat, and extended her hand to pull you up.