The knock at the door hadn't been loud, but it had come with the kind of pressure that made Ryouma's instincts flare.
And when he opened it, what he found wasn't some lost delivery guy or building manager—it was a man with burning crimson hair, a jagged black tattoo running down the left side of his face, and eyes that didn't blink. Not once.
The man stared at him, gaze sharp, posture composed—but there was an edge, like a blade sheathed just barely beneath his skin.
"Hand over the girl," he said flatly.
Ryouma blinked. "What girl?"
The man stepped forward, gaze intensifying.
"Don't play dumb with me. The girl in robes—where is she?"
So it was about Shiro.
"Sorry to disappoint, but there's no girl in robes in my apartment." Ryouma kept his tone casual, his hand still on the doorknob.
The man narrowed his eyes, voice low. "Then you won't mind if I take a look."
"Yeah, I do mind. I don't even know who you are. You think I'm just gonna let some random guy walk in and check my room? Isn't that asking a bit much?"
The tension in the air spiked. The man didn't respond immediately—he just let out a slow breath. And then his body shifted.
It wasn't obvious, but Ryouma felt it. A shift in balance. A slight turn of the foot. A tightening in the fingers.
Combat stance.
"If you're going to get in my way... then I'll just have to remove you."
His voice was sharper now. Intentional.
He raised two fingers, drawing them to the air before snapping them cleanly.
"Arcane Metra."
And then, with a flick of his wrist—
"Flame Bolt."
A surge of fire erupted into his palm, writhing violently like a beast unchained. Without hesitation, he hurled the searing blaze toward Ryouma.
Ryouma stared blankly at the oncoming attack.
"Seriously, dude? You're really gonna attack me because I said you can't come into my room?"
He raised his hand—and caught the man's wrist in mid-air.
The flame died.
Instantly.
The heat vanished as if it had never existed.
"Wha—?! That's impossible…"
The man stumbled back, eyes wide, trying to make sense of what just happened.
"Who the hell are you?"
Ryouma tilted his head, brow arched.
"And who the hell are you? You know, before you pick a fight, the polite thing to do is introduce yourself."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"I'll go first. The name's Ryouma Winslow. But just call me Ryo."
The man didn't respond right away. He was staring at his own hand, the one Ryouma had touched. His expression darkened.
He touched me… and the flames disappeared, he thought. Does he have some kind of interference ability? This is Gaia City, so… it's possible.
"Mark. Mark Hargrove. Nice to meet you—and goodbye."
He suddenly stretched his arm outward.
Ryouma's eyes flicked to the walls—strange papers were plastered along the surrounding surfaces. When had those appeared? Talisman-like seals, humming faintly with energy.
"Arcane Metra."
A slow, deep breath.
"Infernal Flame."
The seals ignited. Fire surged through the air like a living tide, licking across the floor and walls. Heat burst outward in a wave, suffocating and fast.
"What the hell?! You trying to burn down the whole building?!"
Ryouma snapped his gaze to Mark, fists clenched.
"Fine. All I gotta do is stop you, right?"
And then he moved.
No hesitation. Just forward momentum.
Mark's eyes widened. "You think you can take me in close combat?!"
He swung wide with a flame-wreathed fist.
Ryouma raised his left arm—and blocked it cleanly.
The instant their bodies made contact, the fire vanished again.
Mark's eyes shook.
No way… all the flames… gone?
Ryouma exhaled slowly.
"Simple trick: shut down the source."
He cocked his right fist back.
"If you stop the ability user…"
And then he drove his fist into Mark's gut.
"…then their ability goes out of order."
Mark reeled backward, coughing, struggling to regain control. But even as he staggered, he lashed out one last time.
"Arcane Metra—Flame Bolt!"
A trio of fire bolts burst through the air.
Ryouma didn't flinch.
"I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse…"
He reached out, fingers slicing through the air—snatching the bolts mid-flight.
They vanished on contact, one by one. Pew. Pew. Pew.
"…but me and abilities? We don't exactly get along. I tend to cancel them out."
His footsteps echoed as he closed the distance, slow and unshaken.
He gave a half-grin.
"It's gonna take more than flashy fire tricks to beat me, Mark."
The corridor sizzled with heat. Flames danced along the walls in restless spirals, painting the narrow space in vivid orange and red. Yet amid the rising heat, Ryouma Winslow stood calm, his posture relaxed—almost bored.
Mark Hargrove staggered back, panting heavily. His coat, once pristine, now clung to his body damp with sweat. His crimson hair flicked with each breath, and the black tattoo curled under his eye pulsed faintly.
Every flame… gone. His mind reeled. No way he's low-tier. He's got to be a high-Level Gaia—Delta? Maybe higher. That has to be it. That's the only explanation.
Across from him, Ryouma raised a brow, then cracked a crooked grin.
"Let me guess… you're thinking I'm some high-ranking Gaia, right? Maybe Level Beta or something?"
He stepped forward.
"Hate to disappoint, but nope. I'm just a lonely Level Eta Gaia."
Mark's eyes twitched. "Level… Eta?"
"Though now that I think about it…" Ryouma's tone dropped, and his gaze sharpened slightly. "When you were casting all that flashy fire stuff, you said something like Arcane Metra… Are you telling me those flames were made of Metra?"
Mark blinked. "Wait… are you serious?" His voice lost its edge, tinged with disbelief. "You canceled out my Metra flames without even knowing what they were made of?"
"Guess I did. Huh. So Metra does exist." Ryouma folded his arms loosely. "I never believed in that stuff. Couldn't be scientifically explained, so I thought it was fantasy. But wow. Guess I was wrong."
Mark's lips curled downward, baring clenched teeth.
"You've left me no choice… I'll show you my trump card."
Without hesitation, he pressed his index and middle fingers together and swept them through the air, drawing a glowing cross. From inside his coat, dozens of talisman slips burst out like a flurry of charred leaves, each etched with ancient script that shimmered ominously.
Ryouma narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing now…?"
The swirling talismans gathered mid-air, aligning into a humanoid shape. In a sudden burst, it ignited—becoming a massive inferno. A roaring, hulking golem of pure flame stood before him, easily twice the height of a man. Its molten frame shimmered with arcane runes, and every movement hissed as heat distorted the very air.
"Okay…" Ryouma muttered, eyes widening slightly. "That's bad."
Thunder cracked above, loud enough to shake the windows. The sky wept in scattered droplets.
Mark's voice rang out, amplified by the hallway's acoustics.
"Now witness true power—Megalo Flame! Summoned through ancient Metra, forged from infernal scripts… a wrathful Ifrit bound to my will!"
He extended a finger toward the creature, proudly proclaiming, "A manifestation of the Ifrit, the fire spirit from mythology. Forged from ancient infernal scripts and bound with Arcane Metra seals. A being of pure elemental wrath!"
Ryouma gave a dry exhale, barely a laugh.
"Okay, now this got serious."
He motioned toward the apartment walls, now glowing a deep red as heat radiated dangerously close to combustion.
"Are you insane?! This is a residential building! You're gonna burn it to the ground!"
The Megalo Flame roared with fury, then charged. Its molten limbs crushed floorboards beneath its steps, each impact booming like thunder.
"Tch—fine!" Ryouma ducked low, legs coiled, then sprang forward to meet it. "If it's made of Metra like you said…"
He pivoted into a counterstrike, and his fist crashed against the golem's blazing arm. In an instant, the entire limb shattered—disintegrating into sparks and embers that vanished midair.
"So it works… but damn." He shook off the heat from his knuckles. "I can't take it down in one hit."
Mark's eyes narrowed as he raised his voice over the roar of flames.
"Last warning. Hand over the girl… or suffer the consequences."
Ryouma's smirk vanished. His gaze leveled, sharp and unwavering.
"You think I'll back down? You think I'm scared just because you summoned some oversized fire demon?"
Lightning arced in the clouds outside as he stepped forward, flames licking at his silhouette.
"You've got it twisted. I'm not afraid to risk my life to stop you."
Then, pointing directly at the molten beast, he declared—
"But first… I need to take it out."
That's when he saw it—a faint glow in Mark's hand. A talisman, pulsing with the same symbols branded into the golem.
Ryouma narrowed his eyes. "That talisman you're holding… it's the controller, isn't it?"
He clenched his fist.
"Destroy that, and your Megalo Flame goes poof, right?"
Mark's smirk returned, cruel and amused.
"Well then… I'd love to see you try.
That is… if you can get past my Megalo Flame."
CHAPTER END.