[Location: Moningstar Manor, New York]
After getting dressed, I stood before the tall mirror frad in black steel and silver carvings. The reflection staring back at was almost alien. My body carried no visible wounds, but there was sothing sharpened in my eyes, a weight behind them that hadn’t been there before. The penalty zones weren’t just testing my body—they were hamring my will into sothing harder, heavier.
The outfit I’d chosen was simple by Morningstar standards—a black hoodie with various Mangekyo Sharingan designs scattered across the front, while on the back rested a six-tomoe Rinnegan, its violet circles almost glowing beneath the dim light. A pair of black joggers rested loosely against my fra, and fresh sneakers completed the look. Casual, comfortable—human.
I leaned closer to the mirror, adjusting the hood slightly until it cast a shadow across my pale features. My finger gently tousled my snow-white hair, strands framing my face in ssy tufts, soft yet unruly, like winter itself had claid . My skin was lightly flushed from the bath, but it only made my eyes stand out more—crimson and sharp, as if they were lit from within by a quiet, simring fire.
For a mont, I simply studied myself. Not as Dominic Morningstar, demon prince of a fallen line. Not as the host of an invisible System that no one else could even dream of. Just as a man who had crawled through ash, sand, and fire, and returned standing.
"Alright, the only thing left before stepping out is... money. I can’t go out without it."
The words left my lips as a low murmur, more to myself than to anyone else. My gaze flicked from the mirror to the nightstand where my wallet should’ve been—except I had no wallet. No cash, no card, nothing resembling modern human currency. For soone who had once been the heir of a demonic empire, reduced to considering credit cards and dollar bills felt almost comical. Almost.
I turned from the mirror and crossed the chamber, my sneakers quiet against the polished marble. Morningstar Manor’s halls stretched like veins, their veins of shadow and mana-light pulsing faintly as though reacting to my intent. The manor listened, in its own way. It always did.
"Funds," I said aloud, my voice testing the air. "You must have sothing prepared."
For a mont, silence. Then, from the far wall, the blacksteel fra of a painting groaned softly. The canvas shimred, warping into a window of light, and a drawer slid open beneath it. Inside rested a stack of items, perfectly arranged—an envelope thick with bills, a sleek black credit card etched with faint infernal runes, and a small obsidian coin that pulsed with faint light.
I picked up the envelope first, sliding a bill free. U.S. currency. Modern, crisp, fresh off the press. My lips curved faintly. "So, you’ve been keeping up with the tis, haven’t you?"
The black card was heavier than it looked, its surface warm to the touch. The infernal script burned faintly when my fingers brushed it, confirming what I suspected—it wasn’t bound to the human banking system, but rather to the manor itself. A limitless account tied to the anonymous account or its Grayfia’s account, if she had any.
And then there was the coin. I held it between thumb and forefinger, the surface cold and humming with ancient authority. The runes etched across it shifted, rearranging themselves like a living puzzle.
Then, a slip landed face-down against the marble, the faintest shimr of warding still clinging to its edges. I crouched, picked it up, and unfolded it with careful fingers.
"I have a strong feeling, Grayfia must have predicted wanting to wander outside..."
The handwriting was unmistakable—crisp, elegant strokes, sharp yet flowing like frost etched across glass.
—Don’t Go...
Huh?
I stopped at just the first two words, but I shrugged it off and read on...
—I see you’re still here and being stubborn, then I can only see, BE. CAREFUL. AT. ALL. TIS. And don’t you dare forget to take the coin with you. It is directly connected to the one I have; if sothing were to happen, it will alert directly and forcefully summon by your side and do not, under any circumstances, engage anyone who radiates power beyond your current estimate. That includes mortals, demons, and—most especially—beings with divine or semi-divine authority. The coin is not just a key; it is a lifeline. Keep it close. Do not lose it.
I slipped the obsidian coin into my pocket, feeling its weight settle against my thigh like a pulse of cold warning. Grayfia’s handwriting lingered in my mind, sharp and insistent. Do not engage beings beyond your estimate. The words rang with the authority of soone who had spent centuries surviving in a world where one misstep could an death. Even now, without her presence, her guidance clung to like an invisible shield.
I exhaled, letting the weight of the precaution settle into my chest. Outside these walls, the city teed with life, mana, and unknown entities—so mortal, so demonic, and so... far worse. New York wasn’t just a nexus of human activity; it was a crisscrossing web of power, a place where the Greek pantheon and their offshoots walked invisibly among mortals. The thought sent a ripple of caution through , but it didn’t suppress the thrill that had been simring since my return.
Stepping toward the exit, my thoughts wander to food I should try, visiting so places I only saw on the internet in my past life.
Yeah, just to clear this up, I was an indian in my past life. Who in the na of a foreign trip goes to Nepal or Bhutan or sothing? So this is actually my first ti in foreign soil.
...
The streets of New York greeted with a muted buzz, the city just beginning to stretch itself awake. Steam rose from the grates along the sidewalks, curling like serpents into the pale morning light. The air slled faintly of roasted coffee beans, exhaust, and sothing almost tallic that hinted at the latent mana threading through the city like invisible veins. I adjusted the hood over my hair, the shadow cutting across my crimson eyes just enough to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, though honestly, most humans wouldn’t even notice.
Stepping off the marble threshold of Morningstar Manor, I felt the familiar tug of the nexus. New York wasn’t rely a city; it was a living, breathing labyrinth of energy. Mana humd faintly under the soles of my sneakers, brushing against my consciousness like the faint vibration of a distant drum. Even now, the city was layered: one for humans, one for demons, one for the semi-divine and the few beings who could manipulate reality without being noticed. It was a delicate balance, and one misstep could send ripples through multiple realms. Grayfia’s coin pressed cold against my thigh, a constant reminder of that truth.
I passed a café with its front windows fogged from the heat inside. Patrons sipped coffee, scrolling on devices that glowed faintly in the early light. After so thought, I slipped inside too. Walked up to the counter, letting the warmth hit my face. The scent of roasted beans and sugar hit my senses in a way that felt almost foreign after centuries of demon-infused air. My crimson eyes scanned the nu, each item mundane in appearance, but I couldn’t help noticing the faint aura around certain pastries and teas. So had been enchanted—subtly, weakly—but enough to give them a "taste" beyond their human design.
"Good morning," the barista greeted, a woman in her twenties with auburn hair tied back. Her voice carried a faint ripple of mana, as though the coffee shop itself humd in tune with her presence. Most humans couldn’t feel it consciously, but my senses picked it up instantly.
"Good morning," I replied evenly, keeping my tone calm and asured. "I’ll have... a black tea. Hot. And a croissant." Simple, but enough to gauge the place.
The barista raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, before nodding and moving to prepare my order. I leaned slightly against the counter, letting my gaze sweep over the café. The few humans inside were ordinary, their auras faint. But in the corner, a figure cloaked in gray moved with a subtle, deliberate grace. Their presence was strong—not divine, but dangerous enough to warrant attention.
I shifted my stance, subtly activating a small layer of the Observation Grid from my Trinity Crown. The skill rippled across my senses, brushing the city like a net. Energy signatures, spiritual weight, potential threat levels—all began to map themselves in faint violet outlines in my mind.
The cloaked figure didn’t seem aware of my scrutiny, but I made a ntal note. Grayfia’s warning wasn’t just formalities; her instinct never failed. Anyone with presence like that could be an assassin, a demon scavenger, or—worse—a demigod with an agenda.
My tea arrived with a gentle clink. I picked up the cup, letting the warmth seep into my hands. The croissant followed, flaky and buttery—perfectly mundane, almost intentionally so. The mundane often hid the extraordinary in this city.
I took a asured sip, letting the black tea roll across my tongue. The flavours were simple but comforting. The hum of the café, the subtle friction of mana under the floorboards, the distant rumble of the city—all of it grounded . Yet beneath it, the thread of tension never left.
The cloaked figure finally moved, glancing toward the door. A faint shimr of energy flared from beneath their cloak—light, but potent. Not enough to outright harm a human, but enough to force caution.
I let them leave the café unchallenged, allowing them space. Engaging recklessly would be foolish. Grayfia’s coin pressed sharply against my thigh, a subtle reminder of the consequences of misjudgnt.
Finishing my breakfast, I left the café and stepped into the street. The morning bustle was building now, and the city’s many layers of existence intertwined with subtle elegance. Mortals rushed past, oblivious. Beneath their feet, mana veins pulsed like hidden rivers.
I glanced down at my sneakers, then the hood over my hair, then the coin in my pocket. This was a new world, one I had to navigate carefully—but that didn’t an I couldn’t move confidently.
***
Stone , I can take it!
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