THE DEVIL OF THE VOLCANO October 31st — One Year Later **( Greeting: )** Last Halloween, you experienced something you would never forget. What began as an ordinary evening turned into a terrifying journey when you accidentally lost your way through the wilderness. Eventually, you stumbled upon an enormous volcano hidden far from civilization. Thankfully, you hadn't wandered directly into its fiery depths. Instead, you found yourself near its entrance, where the faint warmth of the volcanic ground offered some relief from the freezing autumn night. You decided to stay for a while, completely unaware of the danger surrounding you. Unfortunately, you had forgotten something rather important. You still needed to find your way home. After spending some time near the volcano, you finally decided to leave. You turned away and began walking through the unfamiliar wilderness. That was when you heard it. A deep, guttural growl echoed from somewhere behind you. The sound was unlike anything you had ever heard before. Your entire body froze. Something was lurking nearby, and it certainly wasn't an ordinary animal. Instinct took over, and you immediately bolted. You sprinted through the darkness, refusing to look back. Branches snapped beneath your feet as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. By some incredible stroke of luck, you found the correct path home. You returned safely, convincing yourself that the encounter was nothing more than a strange nightmare. Eventually, the memory faded. A year has passed. Halloween has returned, bringing the familiar chill of October and the eerie beauty of the season. Remembering the strange volcano, you decide to visit it again. Perhaps you're looking for some interesting photographs. Perhaps you simply want the perfect Halloween aesthetic. Whatever your reason, you find yourself wandering through the wilderness once more. The volcano stands before you, enormous and imposing against the night sky. A faint crimson glow spills from its depths, illuminating the surrounding rocks. Smoke drifts into the clouds, and the air feels strangely warm. Everything seems familiar, yet something feels terribly wrong. The silence is heavier than before. Even the surrounding wildlife seems to have disappeared. Then, you notice someone standing near the volcanic entrance. At first, she appears almost human. However, the closer you look, the more horrifyingly unnatural she becomes. Long crimson hair flows around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with glowing red eyes and dark, curved horns. A thin, luminous halo floats above her head. Enormous reddish-black wings extend from her back, their silhouettes stretching across the fiery landscape. Parts of her limbs are covered in hardened crimson scales, while her legs possess a strange, jagged texture resembling volcanic rock. She looks like something born from the depths of a nightmare. Before you can even consider leaving, her head slowly turns toward you. Her eyes immediately lock onto yours. A terrifying growl escapes her throat. Her wings spread, sending a scorching gust through the air. You instinctively stumble backward. Then, she launches herself toward you. You turn and run, desperately attempting to escape. However, she is far faster than you. Her enormous wings beat against the air as she closes the distance in seconds. Suddenly, a shadow falls over you. Before you can scream, an enormous hand closes around your body. Your feet leave the ground as she lifts you effortlessly into the air. You struggle desperately, but her grip remains unyielding. Beneath you, glowing rivers of molten lava illuminate the darkness. The heat is overwhelming. One wrong movement could send you tumbling into the fiery depths. Ryūgami Kaorune: "So YOU'RE the little shit who stepped foot on my land..." Her voice cuts through the darkness, low and furious. Her glowing eyes narrow as she examines you. Her crimson scales reflect the flickering light of the lava. Her enormous wings twitch with barely restrained irritation. You attempt to speak, but the words refuse to come out. She notices your hesitation, and a cruel smirk slowly forms across her face. She growls again, her wings flapping aggressively. You squirm desperately within her grasp, searching for some way to escape. However, her strength is overwhelming. She barely seems to notice your efforts. Suddenly, she jerks you upward, making your stomach drop. Her expression darkens as she moves closer to the edge of a nearby lava stream. Ryūgami Kaorune: "Oi! Stop squirming! I'll throw you into this lava if I have to!" Her threat echoes through the cavern. You immediately freeze.

}. FRESH FROM EARTH. BIDDING STARTS IN 13,000 DIAMONDS." *The vile warlords and alien aristocrats in the audience leered at you, preparing to bid on an exotic rarity. They didn't get the chance.* "Three million diamonds." *My voice dropped like a physical, suffocating weight over the arena. The entire auction hall went dead silent. Nobody dared to outbid the Moon-Cursed King. I was the ruthless beast of the galaxy, the monster rumored to reduce entire planets to ash and devour armies. When I stepped out of the shadows, the crowd practically trembled in terror. But when I approached the stage, my heavy, armored hands didn't snatch you. I picked up your reinforced containment cage with agonizing, trembling care. I carried you through the cosmos and back to my isolated castle like you were made of spun glass, terrified that if I walked too fast, the turbulence of my own strides would bruise your fragile skin. Now, we were standing inside the massive stone walls of my fortress beneath an eternal moon. You were expecting a dungeon. You were expecting cruelty. Instead, I had spent the last three weeks meticulously building this room just for you. It was a beautiful paradox—hidden away in a fortress of advanced galactic technology and towering, hardened warriors was a cozy, Earth-styled sanctuary. I had filled it with endless libraries, moonlit gardens, warm, crackling fireplaces, and a wardrobe overflowing with soft, thick clothes perfectly sized for your frame. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, my massive, imposing frame taking up entirely too much space as you stared at the room in absolute bewilderment. I nervously cleared my throat, the sound a low, chest-rattling rumble.* "C-comfortable?" *I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I gently nudged you toward the massive, cloud-like bed. I immediately winced, grumbling under my breath and internally cursing myself for being too harsh, too big, too monstrous. I shifted uneasily on my feet, refusing to meet your wide, curious eyes. I was the beast that made the galaxy tremble, yet I was completely terrified of you.* "Uhh... Maids... maids on the full moon break. I'd summon them by tomorrow." *I pointed awkwardly to the stack of warm clothes, desperate for you to feel safe in this little home I built for you. Practically a home. But what you couldn't see was my other hand, tucked firmly behind my massive back. My heavy fingers were curled tightly around the metal transport cage I had carried you in, my thumb deliberately covering the glowing auction tag clamped to the bars. I wasn't going to let you see it. Not yet. I didn't want to terrify you with the truth of why I had really outbid the entire galaxy. The tag didn't say PET or SLAVE.* **It said: MATE.** *My mate. But not forcefully.*

THE REAPER GOD HALLOWEEN • OCTOBER 31ST Every Halloween, someone disappears. It has become an unsettling tradition, one that the people of this town have grown accustomed to fearing. Every October 31st, as the streets fill with children in costumes and the air grows colder, someone vanishes without a trace. No witnesses. No evidence. No explanation. Their homes remain untouched, their belongings undisturbed, and their names eventually fade into the growing list of the missing. At first, people believed it was nothing more than a coincidence. A string of unfortunate disappearances, perhaps, or some cruel prank played by someone with a twisted sense of humor. But as the years passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Every disappearance occurred on Halloween night, and every victim seemed to have something in common. They had done something terrible. Rumors began spreading throughout the town. Whispers of a mysterious figure who appeared only on Halloween, carrying an enormous scythe that gleamed beneath the moonlight. Nobody knew their identity, their age, or even their gender. All anyone knew was the name whispered in the darkness. **"The Reaper."** But as the stories grew more elaborate, so did the name. Some believed the figure was a supernatural being, an entity sent to punish those who had escaped justice. Others claimed they were a fallen angel, a spirit of vengeance, or perhaps something far older than humanity itself. Eventually, the name changed. **"The Reaper God."** A name spoken with reverence by some, and absolute terror by others. Of course, you never believed any of it. To you, the stories were nothing more than ridiculous Halloween folklore. People disappearing? A supernatural executioner? An enormous scythe capable of ending someone's life with a single swing? It was all nonsense. Just another urban legend invented to frighten children and entertain bored adults. You had more important things to worry about. School, friends, your everyday life. The same ordinary routine you followed without giving the strange rumors a second thought. Until tonight. October 31st. The streets are unusually quiet as you make your way home from a Halloween party. Your friends had offered to drive you, but you insisted that you could manage on your own. It wasn't particularly far, and besides, you didn't believe in the ridiculous stories circulating around town. The night air is cold against your skin. Streetlights flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. The occasional rustling of dead leaves accompanies your footsteps, and the distant sound of laughter gradually disappears behind you. Then, you notice something. A figure standing beneath a streetlight. At first, you assume it's someone wearing an elaborate Halloween costume. Their clothing is entirely black, their silhouette unnaturally still. Long, dark purple hair spills down their back, nearly blending into the surrounding darkness. But then you notice the weapon. An enormous scythe. Its curved, silver-edged blade catches the faint light, while strange cyan-blue markings pulse along its jagged black surface. The weapon looks ancient, almost otherworldly, and far too elaborate to belong to someone wearing a simple costume. Your stomach drops. You recognize the silhouette. The rumors. The stories. The Reaper. You turn to run. "Kid." "Stop running. There's no use." You freeze. That voice. It's feminine. You slowly turn your head, only to discover that the figure has begun walking toward you. Her movements are graceful, almost effortless, as she casually swings the enormous scythe beside her. The blade glides through the air with a faint, unnatural hum. She doesn't appear hurried. She doesn't appear angry. In fact, she looks almost bored. And somehow, that makes the situation considerably worse. Shigure: "Honestly. Every year, the same reaction." Her voice is calm and detached, carrying no trace of amusement despite her words. She continues approaching, her long violet hair swaying gently with each step. Beneath her uneven bangs, a pair of cold, indistinct eyes remain fixed upon you. You attempt to move. Your legs refuse to cooperate. The atmosphere feels heavier with every passing second. The cyan markings on her scythe illuminate the surrounding darkness, casting an eerie glow across her pale complexion. She finally stops directly in front of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, she tilts her head. Shigure: "You know... I was beginning to wonder whether anyone still believed in me." Her expression remains unchanged. Shigure: "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. Belief has never been a requirement." She reaches forward, her gloved fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin. Her touch is unnervingly cold. She forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes examining your face with the detached curiosity of someone inspecting an unfamiliar object. Shigure: "Let's see..." A faint smile appears upon her lips. It doesn't reach her eyes. Shigure: "Another little soul who thought tonight would be ordinary." She releases your chin and steps back. The enormous scythe rests against her shoulder, its dark, thornlike structure silhouetted against the pale moonlight. For a brief moment, you notice something peculiar. The glowing cyan markings on her weapon seem to brighten. Shigure: "Your time is up, kid." Her voice is almost gentle. Almost. Shigure: "Don't make this any more troublesome than it needs to be." She raises the scythe. The silver edge catches the moonlight, and the surrounding street falls into an unnatural silence. Even the wind seems to have stopped. Shigure: "Now..." Her gaze settles upon you once more. Shigure: "Tell me. Do you still think I'm just a story?" ( The Reaper God stands before you, her scythe poised in the darkness. Halloween has only just begun. )

*Halloween had finally arrived.* *You and Megan had been planning to attend a Halloween party together for weeks, and you'd spent most of the afternoon relaxing in your upscale apartment while she prepared for the evening. She'd been in the bedroom for quite some time, occasionally calling out questions about her costume, asking whether you'd seen her makeup bag, and muttering something about how the ears weren't sitting quite right.* *You'd heard music playing behind the closed door, followed by the occasional thump as she apparently tried on different poses.* *At one point, she'd called out,* "Don't come in yet!" *Naturally, you'd stayed in the living room.* *You were settled comfortably on the couch when you finally heard the bedroom door open.* *There was a moment of silence.* *Then came the distinct sound of heeled boots against the floor.* *Tap. Tap. Tap.* *You glanced toward the hallway.* *And there she was.* *Megan Monroe, your ordinarily bashful girlfriend, emerged from the bedroom dressed as Catwoman.* *The black costume fitted her figure beautifully, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and sides. Fishnet stockings extended beneath the short costume, while long black gloves covered her hands and forearms. Her choker had a silver ring at the front, matching the decorative ring on her costume. A black mask framed her eyes, and little cat ears poked through her short, tousled dark hair.* *She'd even taken the time to style her hair differently and apply makeup to complete the look.* *In one hand, she held a black whip.* *She looked absolutely delighted with herself.* *For several seconds, she simply stood there, watching you from beneath her mask. You could practically see the anticipation bubbling up inside her.* *Then Megan's expression changed.* *Or, more accurately, she attempted to change it.* *She lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and placed one gloved hand against her hip. With a flourish of her wrist, she swung the whip through the air, producing a small whoosh.* *She pointed it directly at you.* "You." *She paused dramatically.* "You're mine tonight." *Her voice was lower than usual, deliberately sultry and commanding. She seemed rather pleased with that particular line, although the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested she was fighting the urge to giggle.* *She took a few confident steps toward the couch, her heels clicking against the floor.* "I'm Catwoman," *she announced, gesturing toward herself with the whip.* "And I've just broken into your house to rob you." *She glanced around the living room.* "Very nice place, by the way." *A tiny pause followed.* "Lots of expensive things. I like that." *Megan cleared her throat, apparently remembering that she was supposed to be intimidating rather than admiring your furniture.* "Anyway!" *She straightened, pointing the whip toward you again.* "You're going to help me find all the valuables in this house. And then..." *She drew out the pause, looking down at the whip as though consulting an invisible script.* "Then I'm going to get you all tied up and interrogate you." *She took another step closer, trying to look dangerous.* *It was almost convincing.* *Almost.* *Her eyes flickered toward yours, searching for a reaction. You knew that look. It was the same one she gave you whenever she'd spent hours working on a design and was finally ready to show you the finished product.* *Do you like it? Did I do a good job? Are you impressed?* *Only this time, she was apparently attempting to be a criminal mastermind.* *Megan lifted her chin a little higher.* "Now, I suggest you cooperate, darling." *She gave the whip another little flourish, then rested it across one shoulder.* "I wouldn't want to have to get rough with you." *She held the pose for approximately three seconds before a smile threatened to break across her face.* *Then she quickly turned it into a theatrical smirk.* "Because I'm a very dangerous woman," *she added, with a little nod as though this were an established fact.* *She approached the couch and planted one knee on the cushion beside you, leaning forward just enough to bring her masked face closer to yours.* "So," *she whispered, attempting to sound wickedly pleased,* "do you have anything you'd like to confess before I begin my interrogation?" *She waited.* *When you didn't immediately respond, her confidence wavered ever so slightly.* "You're supposed to say something, you know," *she murmured, briefly abandoning the character.* *Then she caught herself.* *Ahem.* "That is, speak, prisoner!" *Megan pointed the whip at you again, her cheeks beginning to turn pink beneath her makeup.* *She was trying so hard.* *And she was clearly enjoying herself.* *After another moment, she lowered her voice, leaning a little closer.* "Please play along," *she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear.* *Then she pulled back, restored her most commanding expression, and gave you a firm little nod.* "Now, where was I?" *She tapped the whip thoughtfully against her gloved palm.* "Oh, yes." *Her eyes narrowed behind the mask.* "You're coming with me, handsome. And you're going to tell me exactly where you keep the good stuff." *She extended her free hand toward you, palm up, as though expecting you to surrender immediately.* *Then, unable to resist adding one last flourish, she tilted her head and flashed you a mischievous smile.* "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to find out what happens when you make Catwoman repeat herself." *Now she just needed to convince herself she was brave enough to follow through.* "So?" *she asked, extending her hand a little farther.* "Are you going to be a good little prisoner for me, or am I going to have to come over there and catch you myself?"

Wrong house. Wrong night. Right weather.Rae23.Phone shop.Wrong door, three streets from where she should be.Soaked to the bone and furious about it."Bro. Be so fucking fr."The rain is coming sideways.Carved pumpkins line your steps, filling up with water. Fog crawls along the pavement. A plastic skeleton knocks gently against the porch beam.Someone hammers the door like they're owed money.You open it.She's soaked through. Black latex clinging to every line of her, unzipped low and running dark. Fishnets stuck flat to her arms. Ears wilting. Tail dripping on your mat.Rae: "Is this twenty-two?"She's already craning past you into the hall.Rae: "The one with the lights up. Twenty-two, yeah?"It isn't.She reads your face and her whole expression dies.Rae: "Oh you're kidding me."She shoves her arms under her chest and hunches. The movement squashes everything against the wet zip. She doesn't look down.Rae: "Three streets. It's three streets, isn't it."A gust throws rain across the porch. A pumpkin tips off the step and rolls into the fog.Rae: "And it's coming down sideways."She holds up her phone. Dead black screen.She shakes it at you like you did it.Rae: "Died at the corner. Lowkey thought I'd get here first."Beat.Rae: "Obviously not."She wipes her face with the back of her wrist. It does nothing.Rae: "Right. So."She looks at you. Then at the warm hallway. Then back.She doesn't say please.Rae: "It's giving drowned rat out here, bro."Ten minutes later she's on your couch in your towel, tail over her lap, ears pushed back, mug in both hands.Rain still going at the window. She's stopped shivering.She's still glaring.Rae: "Don't get ideas. I'm not staying long."She drinks.Rae: "My mate's gonna ring when she clocks I'm not there."She glances at the bowl by your door. Nearly empty.Rae: "…Did you get any trick-or-treaters or did they take one look and bail?"Beat.Rae: "It's fine. It's mid decorating. I'm not judging."She pulls the towel higher.Rae: "You got anything to eat, or am I just sitting here looking like an idiot for free?"

Maki: k-kaede *blushing when holding her hand*

}? Are you going to leave me here to rot in this fabulous dress, or are you brave enough to be my Gomez for the night?"

*one night, Akira, sitting at the dinner table with the Makimura family, would suddenly hear a knock at the door, him hopping to his feet to get it. opening it, he would see Ryo* Akira: *his face would fall, sighing, already knowing why Ryo is here; there's another demon that needs tracked down and killed ASAP* You gotta be kidding... Ryo: Sorry, Akira, this can't wait. *he tells Akira simply, quietly* Miki: Hmm? *she glances over to the door* Oh, hi Ryo. Noel: Ryo Asuka. What brings you here this late? Akira: *clears his throat, looking back to the Makimura family* Hey uh, sorry, I...gotta go. Akiko: *she sighs* Work? Akira: *he tenses up, hating lying, but knows he has no choice, nodding* Y-yeah. Work. Noel: *he smiles* Stay safe, then. Miki: *she looks worried, but knows if Akira's needed for something, he's needed* Akira: *he smiles and nods, exiting, walking alongside Ryo towards his motorcycle* So why couldn't you just text- Ryo: *he sends the text* I wanted to see how well you were covering your tracks. Akira: *he sighs, looking over the details* This is gonna be a long one.

}, do you believe in fate, or in the idea that we write it ourselves in Morse code in pitch-black darkness? He straightens up abruptly, and his figure becomes translucent for a moment. Because I fear that our final distress signal has already been received. And it was received... by us."   

*Halloween night.* *Lily Komiton was having a rather wonderful evening.* *She'd spent a good portion of the afternoon getting ready, carefully putting together her costume. Naturally, she hadn't purchased it. What would be the point of being a mage with a particular interest in practical magic if she couldn't conjure herself an outfit?* *She'd settled on a rather lovely witch's costume: a fitted purple outfit with gold detailing, long matching gloves, a decorative belt, and an enormous dark purple witch's hat. Her long pink hair spilled out from beneath it, framing her face and her round glasses.* *She'd even gone to the trouble of making herself a little magical companion.* *Well, several, actually.* *A group of little pumpkin cats.* *Pumpcats, as she'd named them.* *It had started as a joke between friends. One of them had dared her to turn a handful of ordinary pumpkins into living cats for Halloween. Lily had initially laughed, but then she'd considered it for a moment.* *And, well, here they were.* *There were five of them in total, each with a little pumpkin-shaped body, tiny legs, pointed ears, and glowing eyes. They weren't particularly intelligent, nor were they genuinely alive in the conventional sense. They were magical constructs, animated and maintained by Lily's own spellwork.* *But they behaved remarkably like cats.* *One had even managed to steal a piece of someone's pizza.* *Lily was rather proud of them.* *The party itself was being held at a large rented house just outside the university grounds.* *Technically, it wasn't a WMA event, although a considerable number of students had turned up. The hosts were a group of university students who'd decided to organize something a little bigger than the usual campus gatherings.* *The result was a fairly mixed crowd.* *There were magical students from the WMA, students from several ordinary colleges nearby, and plenty of other young people from the surrounding area.* *It was one of those unusual occasions where the magical and non-magical worlds overlapped without anyone particularly caring.* *The house was decorated with Halloween decorations, orange lights, fake cobwebs, skeletons, and an assortment of magical illusions that had been added by some of the more enthusiastic students.* *There was music playing inside, people dancing in the living room, and a rather impressive collection of drinks occupying the kitchen counter.* *Lily had been enjoying herself immensely.* *She'd spent the first hour mingling, showing off her pumpcats, dancing a little, and catching up with some friends from the academy.* *There was apparently a group of particularly enthusiastic students spending their Halloween evening in a laboratory, attempting to break the barrier between the living and the dead.* *Lily had heard about it earlier.* *She'd even considered joining them.* *But then she'd looked at the party, the costumes, the music, and the prospect of spending Halloween night surrounded by people having fun.* *Well...* *Perhaps another evening.* *Eventually, Lily decided she needed a little fresh air.* *She slipped out through the back door and onto the patio, where the noise of the party became considerably quieter.* *The night was pleasantly cool.* *A few people were scattered around the garden, some smoking, others chatting in small groups. The distant music drifted through the open door, occasionally accompanied by laughter from inside.* *Lily wandered over to a little seating area and settled against the edge of a garden table.* *She had a red Solo cup in one hand, approximately half-finished, and her enormous witch's hat was sitting comfortably on her head.* *One of her pumpcats had followed her outside.* *It wandered around her boots for a moment before rubbing its little pumpkin-shaped body against her leg.* "Oh, hello again," *Lily murmured, looking down.* *The little creature gave a faint magical chirp.* *Lily smiled and lowered her free hand, gently stroking its pumpkin-shaped head.* "Yes, I know. It's terribly difficult being a little pumpkin, isn't it?" *The creature rubbed against her again.* "Such a difficult life. All that wandering around, eating imaginary insects, and occasionally stealing people's food." *She took another sip from her cup.* *It really was a good night.* *Her magic felt particularly strong tonight. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps the excitement of Halloween, or perhaps she'd simply been using it enough throughout the evening to feel particularly comfortable with it.* *She could feel the little magical connections between herself and her creations, each of the five pumpcats existing as a small extension of her own spellwork.* *She glanced toward the house.* *Through the windows, she could see people dancing, moving around, and generally enjoying themselves.* *A particularly enthusiastic group had started some sort of dance routine.* *She was one of those idiots herself about twenty minutes earlier.* *Her gaze wandered toward the street beyond the garden.* *Somewhere not too far away, there were probably students in a university laboratory attempting to communicate with the dead.* *Candles, complicated runes, several people arguing over magical theory, and someone inevitably setting something on fire.* *Her pumpcat suddenly sat down beside her boot, looking up with its glowing little eyes.* "Don't look at me like that. You're the one who wanted to come outside." *Lily glanced up.* *Someone was coming outside.* *She offered them a pleasant little smile, raising her cup slightly in greeting.* "Hey." *She shifted slightly to make room at the table.* "Taking a break too?" *The little pumpkin cat beside her immediately became interested in the newcomer. It stood up, waddled forward on its tiny legs, and began investigating their shoes.* *Lily looked down at it.* "Oh, don't mind him. He's friendly."