At the quiet, dimly lit restaurant where Masaru once worked part-time, Mr. Isagi sat alone, sipping his coffee. His sharp gaze scanned the empty seats, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic mug.
"That kid's been gone for a week... Hopefully, that means he's safe. If something happened—"
The chime of the restaurant door broke his thoughts. He looked up, only for his expression to darken.
Two figures entered. Their presence alone twisted the atmosphere, turning the cozy eatery into a battlefield before a word was spoken.
Their matching black uniforms clung tightly to their forms, a shield insignia etched on their chests—a mark of the organization. They were masked, their featureless white visors adorned with black runic markings, swirling ominously.
And then—the air changed.
One of them, the taller of the two, released a pulse of killing intent so sharp the air itself seemed to ripple.
"It seems you've made your decision, Isagi," the first figure spoke, his voice laced with iron. "Or is there something you'd like to clarify?"
A weight settled over the room, pressing down like an executioner's blade.
But Isagi remained seated, unfazed. He exhaled slowly, setting his coffee down.
"I already told the organization—I'm retired," he said, his voice steady. "As you can see, I run a restaurant now. And if you're not here to eat—leave. There's a strict no-violence policy."
The first figure—Fang—laughed, his voice like a growl of a beast eager for slaughter.
"You were once one of our best, but don't think for a second you can scare us!" His form blurred—faster than human eyes could track—and in an instant, he was behind Isagi.
A devastating kick crashed into Isagi's back—a shockwave exploded outward, tearing through the restaurant walls like paper. Wood splintered. Glass shattered. The ground cracked.
Isagi's body rocketed through the air, slamming into the street outside with a force that left a deep crater in the asphalt.
Fang cracked his knuckles, his smirk hidden beneath the mask.
"Hah! I told you, Vermilion! Only I am enough to take down the so-called 'God Hand'!"
The other figure—Vermilion—remained still, watching.
"Even so," she warned, "never let your guard down. He's still a calamity-level threat."
Smoke and dust billowed as Mr. Isagi slowly stood up from the wreckage, his body silhouetted against the streetlights. He spat blood onto the ground, his expression unreadable.
Then, he raised his head—and smiled.
"I told you—no violence in my restaurant."
In a flash, he vanished.
Fang barely had time to react before a cold hand wrapped around his throat.
CRACK!
A second later, his body was launched like a missile—smashing through the restaurant doors and skidding across the pavement like a ragdoll hurled by a god.
Isagi stood at the entrance now, dusting off his sleeves. He turned his gaze to Vermilion.
"You can walk out on your own," he said, voice calm, "or I can throw you out like him."
She vanished.
Instantly, Isagi followed. Blurs of motion. Shadows twisting. The air screamed from their speed.
The battle erupted.
A kick aimed for Isagi's skull. He barely tilted his head—a strand of his hair sliced off as the attack grazed past.
But Fang twisted mid-air—his second kick came faster. A sharp scissors kick snapped against his jaw—BOOM!
The force sent him flying into a parked truck.
KRRRRSHHHH!
The vehicle exploded on impact, flames bursting skyward as a fiery shockwave tore through the street.
Fang roared with laughter, watching the inferno consume Isagi's form.
"Hah! Did you see that, Vermilion?! The legendary 'God Hand' has turned into a washed-up priest!"
Then—the flames shifted.
Not from the wind. From something inside them.
A figure stepped forward, untouched by the inferno. His clothes had burned away—revealing the truth beneath.
His bare chest gleamed under the moonlight, his arms... no longer human.
They were black as the void, inscribed with glowing runic symbols—a divine script of forgotten gods. His fingers moved, and the air itself shuddered.
His hands were not mortal.
They were artifacts of divine and demonic will.
"I may have retired," Isagi muttered, his voice shaking the air like thunder, "but don't mistake me for a saint. I can still kill you effortlessly."
Fang's eyes blazed with battle-lust.
"You've already shown your true form! More like 'Devil Hand' if you ask me!"
Power surged around him. A blue aura erupted, shaking the city as raw energy bled from his very soul. His body pulsed with a power heavy enough to crush steel.
"Vermilion!" Fang declared. "Crave history into your eyes as I become a legend—the man who took down the mighty God Hand!"
Isagi's gaze darkened.
"You're welcome to try."
---
Fang charged.
They clashed—the world shattered beneath them.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
With each strike, the earth cracked. Buildings collapsed. The air itself screamed under their blows. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling across the city, turning structures into rubble.
The world was their battlefield.
Fang leaped back, stretching out his hand. Blue light gathered at his palm.
A glowing mass of energy began to form—aether condensed into destruction itself.
"This is the Aether technique," Fang roared. "A force equal to an atomic bomb—Souenbaku!"
The sphere of annihilation expanded, burning the ground beneath it to ash.
Then—he fired.
A roaring comet of destruction blasted toward Isagi at bullet-light speed.
For a moment, silence.
Then—Isagi raised his hand.
BOOM!
The attack halted.
Just inches from his palm, the swirling orb of mass destruction began to shrink.
It wasn't blocked.
It was being devoured.
"Wha—?!" Fang's voice cracked in disbelief.
Isagi's eyes gleamed.
"You still don't understand why I'm called the 'God Hand,' do you?"
The final remnants of the Souenbaku vanished—absorbed into his very skin.
"You thought it was just my hands?"
He took a single step forward.
"No. I earned that title by sheer dominance."
The next instant—he vanished.
Fang never saw the attack.
One moment, Isagi was before him.
The next—
CRACK.
His skull exploded.
The impact was so absolute, so final, that his head ceased to exist.
Blood sprayed like a crimson fountain, his headless corpse collapsing lifelessly onto the ground.
Isagi turned, eyes locking onto Vermilion.
His gaze burned.
"Next."