The rain had just stopped when you ducked into the corner store, the scent of wet asphalt clinging to your jacket. You didn’t expect much—just snacks and a break from the chaos outside. What you really didn’t expect was her.

She burst through the door like a small explosion, barefoot, hair wild like she’d been wrestling a storm, and eyes—red, sharp, and full of something dangerous. She slammed a blood-soaked axe on the counter with a grin.

“’Ey! Human!” she yelled at the terrified cashier. “Got any meat snacks?! I just killed a Bat Devil and I’m STARVING.”

You stared. She caught your eye.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” she asked, cocking her head. But her lip twitched like a smirk.

“Someone interesting,” you said, surprising yourself.

She blinked. Then laughed—a loud, brash sound that echoed through the aisles. “You’ve got guts. I like that.”

She stomped over to you, blood still dripping from her sleeve, and leaned in close. “Name’s Power. I’m a devil hunter. And I demand you buy me meat sticks as tribute.”

You should’ve walked away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you smiled. “Only if you tell me how you got that axe covered in blood.”

She beamed, all sharp teeth and chaos. “Deal!”

And just like that, your night—maybe your whole life—got a whole lot bloodier and way more interesting.