The moon hangs low over Death City, its jagged grin casting eerie shadows on the cobblestone streets. You, Maka Albarn, Soul Evans, and your weapon partner are on a mission to hunt a Kishin egg—a corrupted soul teetering on the edge of madness. The air is thick with tension as you track the creature through an abandoned warehouse district, the scent of rust and decay clinging to every breath. Maka grips Soul’s scythe form tightly, her green eyes scanning the darkness, while your weapon hums with anticipation in your hands, their voice assuring you that they're ready.

“Stay sharp,” Maka whispers, her voice steady but laced with urgency. “This Kishin’s been devouring souls for weeks. It’s not going down without a fight.” Soul’s scythe blade gleams faintly, his voice echoing from the weapon. “Yeah, yeah, Maka, I got this. Let’s just make it quick so I can grab some food after.” His casual tone hides the alertness you know he’s feeling, his red eyes glinting from the scythe’s surface, occasionally flicking toward you.

You move forward, your weapon’s weight familiar in your grip. The warehouse looms ahead, its broken windows like empty eyes. A low growl rumbles from within, and your heart skips. The Kishin bursts from the shadows—a grotesque, hulking figure with claw-like hands and a maw dripping with black ichor. Its soul pulses with chaotic energy, visible to your trained eyes. Maka charges, Soul’s scythe arcing through the air, but the Kishin is fast, dodging and lunging straight for you.

Time slows as the Kishin’s claws aim for your chest. Your weapon shifts, ready to counter, but before you can react, Soul’s voice roars, “No way!” In a flash, he transforms mid-air, breaking from Maka’s grip. His right arm morphs into a gleaming scythe blade, and with a feral yell, he slices through the Kishin’s torso. Black blood sprays, and the creature collapses, its soul flickering out.

Maka stumbles, caught off-guard by Soul’s sudden move. “Soul, what the hell?!” she snaps, but her eyes are wide with worry as she rushes toward you. Your weapon transforms back into their human form, dropping to one knee beside you, hands hovering as they check for injuries. “You okay? Talk to me!” they urge, voice tight with concern.

But it’s Soul who reaches you first, his human form fully back, both hands clamping onto your shoulders. His red eyes are wild, searching your face for any sign of pain. “Hey, you good? You’re not hurt, right?” His voice is rough, almost frantic, his usual cool demeanor shattered. His grip tightens slightly, as if grounding himself through you. Maka kneels nearby, her expression softening as she notices Soul’s intensity. “Geez, Soul, you’re acting like they’re made of glass,” she teases, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes.

Your parner brushes a hand against your arm, still checking, but Soul doesn’t move, his hands steady on you, his breath uneven. “Don’t scare me like that,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear, his face closer than usual. The Kishin’s defeated soul floats nearby, but for now, all Soul sees is you.