The Next Day — Somewhere Unknown
The man in the coat entered a dark room lit only by the faint glow of computer monitors.
Several figures sat around a long table, shadows masking their faces.
He dropped a small drive onto the table.
"Footage from yesterday," he said, voice rough and low.
"Subject: Isla Aoi. Newly transferred. Unknown lineage. Supposedly no formal training. Talent: unstable portal generation."
The figures murmured among themselves.
"Assessment?" one asked.
The man smirked.
"Potential catastrophic asset. If left alone, she could open rifts to…other dimensions. Maybe even weaponize it."
Another figure leaned forward.
"And if controlled?"
"She could be one of the most dangerous tools alive."
A heavy silence fell.
Then the leader of the group — a man with a mechanical voice — spoke:
"Initiate Operation Seraphim. Retrieve Isla Aoi.
Alive."
The man in the coat bowed slightly.
"As you wish."
Meanwhile — At School
Shiba and Isla sat together during lunch again, a little closer this time.
Shiba had been showing her how to "anchor" her portals — like making small ones appear close to her body without panicking. Isla was still shy, still nervous…but she laughed a little more now.
Shiba watched her fumble with a mini-portal over her hand, smiling warmly.
"You're getting better."
Isla blushed lightly and tried to hide it behind her hair.
"T-thank you…"
Neither of them noticed the substitute teacher standing by the doorway — a new face they hadn't seen before.
The man wore a regular school uniform jacket over casual clothes, blending in almost perfectly.
But under his long sleeves, intricate black tattoos pulsed faintly with strange energy.
His gaze locked onto Isla with quiet calculation.
Later That Night — Isla's Apartment
The hallway was dark as Isla fumbled with her keys, a little backpack slung over her shoulder.
She could feel it — the wrongness in the air.
The feeling of being watched.
Her heart raced. She spun around — but the hall was empty.
"Get a grip, Isla," she muttered, stepping inside.
But before she could close the door —
A hand slammed against it, forcing it open.
Isla screamed, stumbling back, portals flickering around her instinctively. The man from school — now without disguise — stepped into the apartment, calm and terrifying.
"Isla Aoi," he said smoothly. "You're coming with me."
Her portals flared wildly, cutting into the air, but the man weaved through them effortlessly — too fast, too smooth.
"I can help you," he said, voice like poisoned honey. "You don't belong with the weak ones.
You belong somewhere greater."
Isla shook her head violently, tears springing to her eyes.
"N-no…I don't—I don't want—!"
The man reached out — and a black sigil flared on his palm.
At that moment —
CRASH!!!
A window shattered inward.
Someone had jumped through it — a figure with a star-symbol on his forehead bandana, two swords flashing in the moonlight.
Dark Star — Shiba — was standing between Isla and the man, breathing hard.
"You're not taking her," Shiba growled.
The man in the coat smirked, unfazed.
"Another stray."
He rolled his sleeves up — the tattoos on his arms glowing.
"Let's see what you're made of, little hero."
Shiba stood protectively in front of Isla, swords crossed, muscles tense.
The man in the coat — the agent — flexed his arms, black tattoos pulsing like living things.
"You're not on my level, kid," he sneered. "Walk away."
Shiba didn't flinch.
"I'm not leaving her."
The man sighed — then struck.
He moved faster than Shiba could react, his fist glowing with Astra-enhanced force — but Shiba's instincts screamed, and he twisted just enough to deflect the hit.
The wall behind him cracked like paper under the force of the blow.
"Crap—he's strong," Shiba thought, heart pounding.
He barely parried, countered, dodged — every second he bought was another second Isla could recover.
But Isla wasn't recovering.
She was breaking down.
Tears streaked her face, portals sparking randomly around her — unstable, dangerous.
"I don't—I don't want to be scary—I don't want to be a monster—"
The man ignored her cries, lunging for her again —
but at that moment —
BOOM!!!
A massive shockwave erupted from Isla's body.
The entire apartment twisted — walls bent like liquid.
Shiba was thrown back, hitting the far wall hard.
The man stumbled, shielding himself — even he looked rattled.
Floating above the ground now, Isla's eyes glowed white-blue.
Her portals weren't small anymore.
They stretched across reality itself.
Glimpses of black oceans, burning skies, monstrous cities, and endless voids flickered inside them.
Dozens of portals.
Hundreds.
And each one whispered like a hungry mouth.
The man stared, stunned.
"This…this isn't portal creation."
His eyes widened in horror.
"This is…dimensional corruption."
He realized:
Isla Aoi wasn't just an Anomaly.
She was a Potential Singularity.
If she fully lost control, this city would be eaten alive by otherworldly forces.
"Change of plans," the man snarled, backing up.
He pressed something on his wrist — a teleport beacon — and vanished in a flash of light.
Shiba dragged himself to his feet, coughing.
"Isla…?"
She floated higher, portals ripping apart the space around her, the air itself humming like it might shatter.
He staggered forward — arms shielding his face from the chaotic wind.
"She's not a monster," he thought desperately. "She's just scared."
Summoning all his strength, he reached out — grabbing her hand.
The moment he touched her —
The portals snapped shut.
The energy collapsed inward like a black hole slamming shut.
Isla fell limply into his arms, unconscious, trembling.
Shiba held her tight, breathing hard, the apartment destroyed around them.
"I don't care if you're an anomaly," he whispered fiercely, tears in his eyes.
"I'm not letting them take you."
In a massive hidden base, a group of shadowy figures watched the security feed showing Isla's eruption.
"She's unstable," one said grimly.
"But if trained properly…" another mused.
"She could become our greatest weapon."
The leader stood, stepping into the light —
revealing a jagged scar across his mouth and piercing silver eyes.
He smiled coldly.
"Send more agents.
The game has just begun."
[Next Day at School]
BZZZZZZT
The bell blares through the halls of Kamihoshi Middle School.
Shiba walks through the hallway, tired bags under his eyes, sore from last night's patrols as Dark Star. His hands ache from swordwork practice, and his ribs throb from fighting a small pack of low-grade monsters.
He yawns, adjusting his plain, beat-up backpack.
Then—
WHAM!
A fist slams into the back of his head.
Hard enough to make him stumble forward.
"Watch where you're walking, dumbass."
That arrogant, sharp voice cuts through the noise.
Standing behind him:
Asahi Hima.
Tall, unruly golden-blonde hair. That blinding, cocky grin that makes your blood boil. Shoulders rolled back like she owns the world.
Even her uniform jacket is sloppily thrown over her shoulder, like she's too powerful to care.
Other students immediately scatter, pretending not to see.
Nobody wanted problems with Asahi.
Shiba forces a smile.
"Here we go again…"
"Morning, Ahimari," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his head.
Asahi grabs his bag with one hand and yanks it off his shoulder.
"You're late. You're supposed to get my lunch from the konbini, remember?"
"But… you never even asked me—"
SMACK.
She lightly slaps the back of his head again, a teasing hit but fast enough that it stings.
"You should just know, gopher boy. You think a future Sentinel Supreme like me should have to ask?"
Students giggle nervously from a distance.
Shiba clenches his fists.
But Shiba just forces another strained smile.
He couldn't cause a scene. Couldn't let anyone know he was anything other than weak little "Shiba, the loser kid with a useless talent."
"Sorry, Ashimari," he says.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crushed convenience store sandwich, handing it to her without making eye contact.
Asahi snatches it from him, grinning wickedly.
"Finally. See? Even trash like you has uses."
Then she leans closer.
Real close.
Her eyes narrow, studying him.
"You smell weird today… like… smoke? And something else…"
Shiba freezes.
Was it… blood? The monster ichor from last night?
He forces a nervous laugh.
"Maybe I burned my breakfast."
Asahi frowns — suspicious — but shrugs it off, stuffing the sandwich into her mouth like a barbarian
(Later That Day — Lunchtime)
Shiba sits on the school rooftop again, by himself.
Picking at his lunch with no appetite.
The wind blows gently, carrying the distant sounds of the city.
He watches clouds roll by, feeling hollow.
"Am I really gonna be like this forever? Getting pushed around?"
He thinks about Isla.
Her quiet bravery… her unstable but insanely powerful portals.
He thinks about the dark streets last night, about the monsters lurking just beyond the city's walls.
"Even if nobody sees it now… I'll change everything. One step at a time."
Shiba stands up, gripping the railing tight.
Down below, the school bustled with life — kids chasing dreams of becoming Sentinels.
[Meanwhile — Watching from the Shadows]
A tall figure in a long coat leaned against the adjacent rooftop.
A cigarette dangled from his lips, smoke trailing upward.
The Man in the Coat.
His eyes weren't on Shiba though.
They were on Isla Aoi — sitting alone in the courtyard, quietly eating her lunch with trembling hands.
He exhaled smoke.
"An Anomaly…
One who's scared of her own power…
Perfect for the Program."
He smirked, flicking the cigarette off the rooftop.
"Soon enough, little girl.
We'll see if you're worthy."
The wind swallowed his words.
After School – Walking Home
The late afternoon sun painted the streets gold, but the mood between Isla and Shiba was quiet. The wind whispered through the trees as they walked side by side, schoolbags swinging low against their backs.
"She used to call me Malo," Shiba said, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. "When we were kids. Said it came from my name… a nickname. A mix of 'Malik' and 'Shiba.' She gave it to me, and back then, I thought it meant something. Thought we were… close."
Isla glanced over, sensing the weight in his voice.
"She was my best friend," he continued, voice soft, cracking just a little. "We'd train together, dream about being Sentinels. I got my talent before her, and she was so excited for me. But when she got hers—everything changed. She got strong. Stronger than anyone. And suddenly… I was just someone to step over."
Isla didn't say much. She didn't need to. She gently patted his back—quiet, comforting.
"Everything's gonna be okay," she said simply.
But then—
"Ay," a voice called from behind. Sharp. Confident. Inevitable.
"Malo and White Eyes. Hold up."
Shiba stopped. He didn't turn around. He didn't have to.
It was Asahi.
She walked up like she owned the whole street, golden hair catching the sun like fire.
"Let's talk somewhere private," she said, eyes focused only on Shiba.
He sighed and looked at Isla, who was already tensing.
"It's fine," he said, forcing a tired smile. "You should go on ahead."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'll be okay."
Isla looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly and walked off, glancing back just once.
Hours Later – Nightfall
Blood caked on the side of his lip. His eye was beginning to swell. His uniform shirt was torn near the shoulder. He walked home slowly, every step heavier than the last.
Asahi hadn't even needed to hit him that hard.
But she did anyway.
It wasn't even a fight. It was a message.
He turned the corner—and froze.
Red and blue lights spun across his house. Officers stood near the porch. Neighbors peeked from behind blinds. An ambulance sat with its back doors open.
"No… no, no, no—"
Shiba broke into a sprint, shoving through people. "Mom? Where's my mom?!"
He caught a glimpse—paramedics loading her into the ambulance, pale, unconscious. Oxygen mask over her face.
"Mom!"
He tried to climb into the vehicle, but an officer stopped him. "You can follow us to the hospital, kid. Let them work.
Hospital – Hours Later
The room smelled like antiseptic and tired hope. Machines beeped steadily. A soft hum of life that didn't feel real.
Shiba sat hunched in the chair beside her bed, hands trembling, bruises blooming dark across his skin.
Finally—her eyes opened.
She squinted, groaned, then smiled faintly. "Did… you get into another fight again?"
He froze.
"What did I tell you, huh?" she whispered, managing a chuckle.
Shiba's face crumpled. Tears fell fast, hot, helpless.
"Stop worrying about me so much," he choked. "You're in a hospital bed and you're still—still thinking about me?"
She reached out, weak fingers brushing his arm. "You're all I've got, kid. That means I have to worry."
He grabbed her hand and held it tight.
"I just wanted to be strong," he whispered. "Strong enough so you didn't have to worry anymore. Strong like Dad. Strong like I should've been."
"But you are," she said, barely audible. "You're stronger than you know. Just… promise me. Don't lose yourself trying to prove it to anyone else."
He buried his head in her blanket-covered arm, shaking.
Outside the room, the night deepened.
And somewhere inside Shiba, the shadows stirred.
Nightfall – Somewhere in the City
The skyline flickered with the last dying embers of day. Neon signs buzzed to life. Shadows stretched long over cracked pavement.
And in the alleyways where light dared not reach—they stirred.
Not cursed spirits. Not demons.
"Noxfiends."
Creatures born of corrupted Astra—soul essence twisted by fear, rage, or despair. Whenever someone's will breaks or their soul fractures, it can give birth to these monsters. They aren't just physical threats—they reek of negative emotion. Grief. Hate. Guilt. And they're only visible to those attuned to Astra.
To most people, they're just a sudden disappearance. A cold breeze. A tragedy with no face.
But not to him.
Not to Dark Star.
Who Is Dark Star?
In the dead of night, when sirens scream and even Sentinels don't answer certain calls, he moves.
Agile. Silent. Masked.
A black bandanna covers his eyes, but he doesn't need sight. His Astra flows like instinct. Two curved swords strapped to his back flash silver under the moonlight. His body moves with the fluid grace of generations before him—an echo of a name nearly lost to time.
The Shiba Clan.
Once feared and revered. Masters of Blade Astra, a long-forgotten form of soul-bound swordsmanship that turned spirit into steel. Each technique was a rhythm—a feeling. Not taught through manuals, but passed down through battle, blood, and will.
But they fell. Not to battle, but politics. Forgotten heroes swallowed by a world that evolved without them.
Shiba carries their weight in every slash.
Tonight – A Hunt Begins
He crouched on a rooftop, wind brushing through his hair under the mask. Below, something moved—a twisted shape crawling across the walls of a condemned apartment building.
Its form was fluid, oozing shadows like ink, with eyes that blinked in and out of existence.
A Level II Noxfiend.
Not the worst kind—but fast, unpredictable, and dangerous if ignored.
Dark Star exhaled.
He dropped down, landing with barely a sound. His hand went to the hilts on his back—two siblings forged from Astra and tempered by will.
Twin Blades of Shiba: Kage-no-Ha (Leaf of Shadow) and Hikari-Ten (Heaven's Light).
The Noxfiend hissed. It sensed him now.
It lunged.
He didn't hesitate.
The world slowed for a breath—his body surged forward, one blade slashing low, the other striking high. Fluid movement. No wasted energy. His swordform was instinctual, elegant, lethal.
A black tendril shot from his back—his signature Astra ability—catching the creature off guard mid-jump and pulling it off-balance.
The fight was over in seconds.
He sheathed his swords with a quiet click and whispered, "Shiba Style: Second Pulse—Cross Bloom."
The Noxfiend split into ash.
Gone.
But something felt… off.
This was the third one tonight.
And each had the same dark signature—too similar to be random.
Something—or someone—was feeding them.
Dark Star stood on the rooftop again, wind lifting his coat, eyes hidden behind the star-marked bandanna.
"I may not be a Sentinel," he murmured to himself. "But I'll carve a path in the dark—one Noxfiend at a time."
Midnight – Beneath the Old Train Bridge
Dark Star crouched by the fire barrel, the faint orange glow casting jagged shadows across his masked face. The city rumbled above, unaware of what moved beneath its streets.
One by one, they arrived.
Flux. Tall, wrapped in a long coat, eyes hidden behind cracked aviators. His Astra pulsed like static—he could phase through matter for short bursts, but each use left a faint echo behind, like a glitch in reality.
Silene. Hood up, face obscured by a shifting veil of mist. Her Astra manifested as silence—literal silence. She could create zones where no sound existed, making her terrifying in close quarters. She moved like smoke and hit like thunder when it mattered.
Knox. Short-tempered, heavily scarred, gauntlets made of scrap metal and soul-etched chains. His Astra let him magnetize objects and redirect force—he was a walking wrecking ball. He hated authority. Loved brawls. But he always showed up.
Flux took a long drag of something bitter and sat down. "You're late, Star."
"I had a dance with a Level II," Dark Star said, arms crossed. "East sector. Same energy signature as the others."
Silene nodded. "Three in one night. All clustered. It's not natural spawn anymore."
"Someone's pushing them in," Knox growled. "I say we find out who and break their ribs."
Flux gestured to the map they'd taped to the side of the bridge—city zones marked in red. "It's a funnel. They're herding Noxfiends from the outskirts toward the center. Toward the heart of the city. Toward people."
Dark Star stared at the lines. "These things feed on fear. Despair. If someone's controlling them…"
"They're trying to turn the city into a farm," Silene finished.
Silence settled over them.
The fire crackled.
Dark Star looked down at his gloved hands, flexed his fingers.
"We're not Sentinels. We don't have teams or sponsors. No one'll believe us if we come forward."
"Then we don't go forward," Knox said. "We go deeper."
Flux grinned, half-mad. "Infiltrate the tunnels. Find the source. Cut it out."
Silene added quietly, "No backup. No glory. Just us."
Dark Star stood, wind rustling his coat.
"Then let's hunt."
The Fire Died as the Ground Trembled
The sound came like a slow avalanche—grinding, scraping, pulsing.
From the edge of the underpass, something crawled out of the dark.
Massive. Shifting. Screaming without a mouth.
A grotesque chimera of Noxfiends—arms fused into arms, torsos blooming out of spines, wings made of writhing fingers. Its form constantly shifted, as if it was still deciding what it wanted to be. A core pulsed in its chest—a beacon of rotted Astra, thudding like a heart.
Dark Star took a step back, his hands already reaching for his blades. "What the hell is that…?"
"A fusion," Flux said, voice grim. "No way that happened on its own."
Knox cracked his neck. "Then someone made it."
They all rushed it.
Dark Star was first—vanishing in a blur, blades drawn, slashing across one of its malformed limbs. He landed, rolled, spun—his swords dancing like lightning.
Knox launched forward next, chaining his gauntlets to a broken street sign and slamming it across the creature's jaw—if that's what it was.
Silene burst her silence zone—no sound, just motion—and slipped into its blind spots, stabbing glowing talismans into its body to slow the flow of Astra.
Flux phased into its back, destabilizing its mass with a surge of his own Astra, before being thrown like a ragdoll. He crashed into a truck—but got up, spitting blood and grinning.
It wasn't enough.
The chimera shrieked, a howl so distorted it scraped across the inside of their minds. Its form twisted, and then—
—It spoke.
Not in words.
But in thoughts.
"You seek to know what cannot be known. We are the byproduct. The waste. The truth you bury in light."
Silene stumbled. "It's aware."
"No," Dark Star whispered. "It's sentient."
Here's What Everyone Believes—Or Wants to Believe
• Noxfiends are evil spirits. Born from the darkest corners of human emotion—anger, guilt, hatred, despair. Their bodies are made from corrupted Astra, our soul energy.
• Everyone can see them, but most don't understand them. To regular people, they're just monsters. To Sentinels, they're threats.
• But that's just one theory.
• Some spirits are different. Neutral ones. Ones that don't attack unless provoked. Some even protect.
• And then there are the Blessed Spirits—rare, radiant, tied to Astra in unknown ways. They don't speak, but when they appear, something in the world changes.
Dark Star's blade trembled in his hand—not from fear, but from instinct.
"Then… if Noxfiends are just one part," he muttered, eyes narrowing, "what else is out there?"
He didn't get to think much longer.
The chimera roared, and the world around them warped.
Astra & Talents – Quick Breakdown
• Astra: Soul energy. Everyone has it. It amplifies physical ability—strength, speed, agility—and allows for the use of certain techniques.
• Talents: Personal powers. You're born with one, and it's yours alone. No one else can copy or learn your talent. To activate or sustain a talent, you need to use your Astra.
• Shiba's clan specialized in learnable techniques—things anyone can master with training and discipline, unlike talents, which are innate.
• Their techniques blended swordplay and soul control—turning emotion into precise form.
"Formation Two!" Dark Star barked, slicing through a wave of black tendrils. "We've taken down bigger!"
"Speak for yourself!" Knox shouted, dodging a scythe-shaped limb.
Flux grinned through the blood. "No… he's right. We've just never taken something this… wrong."
Beneath the Bridge – The Battle Begins
The Noxfiend chimera towered above them, its shifting body groaning and cracking, leaking black, steaming Astra like blood. It shrieked in multiple voices—rage, sorrow, agony, all twisted into one sound. It lunged forward with unnatural speed, each limb dragging behind it like melting wax.
Dark Star moved first.
He dashed in, swords slicing upward in a clean arc—"Shiba Style: First Pulse—Falling Sky!"
His blades tore through one of the creature's arms, sending it spiraling. But it regrew before the pieces hit the ground, tendrils writhing into form.
"It's regenerating," Silene called, her voice echoing briefly before she activated her silence zone. Around her, the sound vanished—muffling the creature's screams. She dashed in, planting Astra sigils like mines on the chimera's body—every touch burned into its skin like branding.
Knox swung in next, chaining his gauntlets around the creature's leg and redirecting its weight, causing it to crash to the side. "Hit the core! Middle of the chest! That thing pulsing like a freakin' strobe light!"
Flux reappeared midair behind it, phasing just enough to avoid its flailing limb. He stabbed a blade of raw Astra directly into the glowing mass at its center. The chimera convulsed—screamed.
Then it evolved.
Its form burst outward—eight limbs, a long jagged horn curling out of what used to be a shoulder, dozens of half-formed eyes blinking across its body. The temperature dropped. Black frost began to crawl along the ground.
"Split and surround it!" Dark Star shouted. "Hit from four angles!"
They did.
Silene disrupted its balance, keeping its hearing twisted in a zone of silence and confusion.
Knox flanked it from below, launching debris upward to pin its movements.
Flux phased in and out of its limbs, disorienting it—forcing its regeneration to go wild and uncoordinated.
And Dark Star—he danced with it.
Blade met limb. Soul met chaos.
Every slash was precise, cutting not just flesh but the Astra threads holding it together. His body blurred—Shiba Style: Second Pulse—Cross Bloom.
A high-speed cross strike directly to the core.
The chimera reared back to crush him, but Flux phased in behind it—"Tag out."
And in the final second—
Dark Star leapt skyward, twisting mid-air—
"Third Pulse—Grave Lotus!"
He came down in a spiraling vertical strike, both swords glowing, and buried them into its chest.
The chimera howled, its body warping, folding, screaming without sound—before bursting into black light and ash.
Silence.
Dark Star stood in the falling embers, breathing heavy, blades still humming with Astra.
Later That Night
Dark Star walked the quiet streets alone, his gear stashed in a duffel bag, his mask tucked into his hoodie pocket. The night's fight clung to his muscles. His limbs ached. Cuts burned. His soul felt heavy.
He turned the corner to his apartment building. The lights were still off. His mom was probably asleep.
He stepped inside quietly, dropped his bag, and sat on the edge of his bed.
Tomorrow was a school day.
He looked out the window—toward the skyline, still and distant.
"I fought a soul-chimera, saved half the city, and still gotta wake up at 6 a.m.," he muttered, falling back onto the bed with a groan.
Shiba Keoni Kamal Koa Malik—vigilante by night, exhausted middle schooler by day.
Somewhere outside, a siren wailed.
He closed his eyes.
End of Night One.