Chapter 4: The Shadows' Grasp

As dawn broke over the chaotic world Akuma found himself in, he and Kira journeyed deeper into the city. The air hung heavy with tension as if the very atmosphere bore witness to the atrocities that plagued the land. The streets, though alive with survivors eking out a living, felt shadowed by an unseen hand.

Kira guided Akuma to a towering building near the city’s heart. Its foundation was cracked, yet it stood resolute, a testament to its purpose. Inside, the halls echoed with the clamor of warriors training and the faint murmurs of strategy meetings. At the center of this hub stood Master Arakan, his imposing figure radiating both wisdom and strength.

Arakan was a former hero, now a mentor to those who dared to take up the mantle of savior in these bleak times. His armor, though scarred and dulled with age, still exuded an air of authority. His presence commanded respect, and Akuma felt the weight of the man’s gaze as they approached.

"So, you're the one Kira mentioned," Arakan said, his voice gravelly yet steady. "The boy with a fiery relic. Show it to me."

Akuma hesitated but eventually drew his weapon. The blade shimmered as its fiery aura flickered to life. Flames danced along its edge, illuminating the room in an ominous glow. The other trainees paused to stare, murmuring among themselves. Arakan studied the blade intently, his brows furrowed.

"I’ve never seen a relic like this," he admitted. "Where did you get it?"

Akuma hesitated, recalling his grandfather's final moments. "It was passed down to me by my grandfather."

"What was his name?" Arakan asked, his tone sharp with curiosity.

"Shinjo," Akuma replied.

At the mention of the name, Arakan’s expression shifted, though he quickly masked it. "Interesting. Take this to Vikas under the Magic Tree. He’s a researcher of relics and curses. He can determine its class."

The Magic Tree loomed large, its roots sprawling like veins into the earth. Beneath its ancient canopy stood Vikas, a gaunt figure draped in dark robes, his hands adorned with glowing runes. The researcher’s eyes glimmered with an unsettling mix of curiosity and detachment.

"Let me see this relic," Vikas said, extending a hand. Akuma hesitated before relinquishing the blade. Vikas examined it, his fingers tracing the intricate designs etched into the metal. The fire pulsed faintly, as if resisting his touch.

After a long silence, Vikas shook his head. "This relic doesn’t fit into any of our known classes."

"What does that mean?" Akuma asked, his frustration evident.

"It means," Vikas said slowly, "that your relic is either something entirely new or something that doesn’t belong in our classification system. Perhaps it’s B-class or lower. It lacks the overwhelming aura of greater power."

Akuma felt a pang of doubt. "It gives my sword fire," he argued. "It’s powerful."

Vikas shrugged, handing the blade back. "Then perhaps its true potential lies dormant. Keep it close. You may yet unlock its secrets."

Their conversation was interrupted by a woman’s frantic cries. She stumbled into the clearing, her face pale and streaked with tears. "Someone, please help me!" she yelled. "My daughter—she’s been taken by vampires!"

The tension in the air became palpable. Master Arakan approached swiftly, his expression grim. "Another case," he muttered. "These abductions are becoming more frequent. We don’t know why vampires are targeting girls, but it cannot bode well."

Turning to Kira, Akuma, and another young hero standing nearby, Arakan issued his command. "You three are the only ones available right now. Help this woman. Find her daughter. If any heroes return, I’ll send them to support you."

The woman, clutching the frayed edges of her shawl, pointed southward. "They attacked us on the southern side of the city," she said, her voice trembling. "Please, hurry!"

Kira placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s shoulder. "We’ll bring her back," she promised, her eyes steely with resolve. Turning to the others, she added, "Let’s move."