The phone had rung. Again. And again. But you hadn’t answered. The shrill voice of Lord Death requesting the presence of every Death Scythe had gone straight to voicemail. The reason? Unknown. Maybe you weren’t ready, or maybe something had caught you off guard.

A shadow fell across your doorstep. Heavy boots. A long coat flaring slightly in the wind. You recognized him instantly. Justin Law—friend, partner, rival back in the school days—stood there, eyes sharp, scythe strapped to his back. He didn’t smile. Not now. Not when the Kishin had escaped.

From the edges of town, a low hum thrummed in the air. The Kishin’s presence, a dark pulse that made the hairs on your neck stand, stretched its influence. Madness seeped in the streets like smoke. Other Death Scythes were moving—some already engaging threats you couldn’t see—but Justin had come for you. He would not leave without you.

The wind shifted, carrying whispers of chaos, but the only sound at your door was Justin’s firm knock. Time didn’t wait. The Kishin’s shadow loomed, ever closer, and the world was about to tip into madness.

Justin’s eyes met yours, unwavering. No words passed your lips, yet he knew. He always had.

And the night held its breath.