Across the landscape, a raging fire consumed everything in its path, the voracious flames hungrily devouring homes, buildings, and dreams. The once-familiar streets were now a nightmarish vision of destruction and chaos. The glow of the inferno cast an eerie light, painting the surroundings in shades of orange and red.

Away from the coast, people sought refuge in boats, their eyes filled with a mix of terror and disbelief as they watched their beloved homes crumble before their eyes. Smoke billowed into the sky, intertwining with the flames, creating an ominous veil that cloaked the scene in a shroud of mystery.

Despite their efforts to shield themselves from the acrid smoke, the scent of ash permeated the air, a haunting reminder of the devastation unfolding before them. The crackling of the flames echoed through the night, punctuated by occasional explosions that sent shockwaves of fear and despair through the hearts of onlookers.

Amidst the chaos, an old man stood on the outskirts, his weathered face contorted in a mixture of madness and delight. With a rough accent, he cackled hysterically, his words carrying a sense of twisted satisfaction. "You get what you deserve," he chanted, his voice blending with the crackling symphony of destruction.

High above, helicopters buzzed urgently, their rotors slicing through the thick smoke as they carried ocean water, desperately attempting to quell the relentless flames. But even their valiant efforts seemed futile as the water evaporated before it could even reach the epicenter of the blaze. The heat radiating from the inferno defied natural laws, mocking the feeble attempts to subdue it.

A news helicopter soared overhead, capturing the relentless fury of the fire as it devoured everything in its path. The camera zoomed in, focusing on the heart of the city, where a solitary figure stood atop the tallest building, an enigmatic presence amidst the chaos. The man's gas mask, a shield against the toxic fumes, reflected the incandescent glow of the flames, obscuring his features and lending an air of ominous anonymity.

As the camera caught his attention, the man turned his masked face towards it, his eyes piercing through the lens with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those watching. With a gloved hand, he raised it in a brief wave, a chilling gesture that held an unspoken message. Then, without a word, he turned back towards the engulfed cityscape, entranced by the spectacle of destruction unfolding before him.

January ???, 1986

Walking through the bustling streets of Tokyo, Leo navigated the familiar labyrinth of the city, his determined strides leading him toward a seemingly random warehouse nestled near the outskirts. It was an unassuming facade, concealing the dark secrets that lurked within.

As a brand new devil hunter, Leo had received explicit orders to eliminate a small group of devils who had taken refuge in the warehouse's shadowy depths. Kishibe, the seasoned veteran, would be supervising the mission for obvious reasons, while the presence of Makima, the enigmatic figure of authority, was claimed to be an extra precaution. Leo couldn't help but dismiss it as mere theatrics, a load of baloney meant to keep tabs on his every move.

After hours of relentless clouds obscuring the sky, a sudden change in the weather brought forth a blinding burst of sunlight. Leo shielded his eyes, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected brilliance that pierced through the urban canopy.

Speaking of Leo, he now sported his devil hunter uniform, a sleek ensemble that bore little difference from his customary Yakuza attire. The garments draped his form with an air of quiet confidence, the fabric tailored to perfection. It was a wardrobe that effortlessly melded functionality and style, allowing Leo the freedom of movement necessary for his lethal skills to shine.

As Leo pressed onward, the atmosphere grew increasingly foreboding, the misty air carrying a distinct scent of decay mingled with the metallic tang of blood. It was an olfactory symphony that signaled his proximity to the warehouse, a place cloaked in darkness and secrets.

In the distance, the dilapidated metal structure materialized before Leo's eyes, its weather-worn walls adorned with the scars of time. Rust gnawed at its edges, while creeping vines clung tenaciously, as if nature itself sought to reclaim the abandoned domain.

Standing sentry nearby, Kishibe and Makima remained stoic, their attention fixed on the looming edifice, their unwavering gazes refusing to yield to the approaching footsteps.

Without a word, Kishibe deftly reached into the depths of his coat, producing a gleaming knife that he casually tossed to Leo. The cool weight of the blade settled comfortably in Leo's palm.

Curiosity burning within him, Leo couldn't help but ask, "How many are in there?"

Kishibe took a momentary sip from his flask, his eyes still fixated on the warehouse, before replying with an air of uncertainty, "Dunno."

Makima interjected, her voice betraying underlying confidence, "Reports indicated at least two devils were spotted."

As their attention remained fixed on the decrepit structure, a sudden movement caught Leo's eye. A wounded rat, its feeble form limping towards freedom, fell victim to a swift and merciless snatch from within the warehouse's dark maw. A clawed appendage, resembling a canine paw adorned with jagged, uneven claws, betrayed the presence of a formidable adversary lurking within—an embodiment of a dog devil or some twisted variation thereof.

With a pensive hum, Leo absorbed the scene before him, his mind ticking with anticipation and calculation.

Continuing his approach, Leo was met by the emergence of a creature shrouded in primal allure. The devil before him possessed a brawny and sinewy physique, its muscles rippling beneath a coarse coat of fur that bristled with an unsettling energy. The beast's maw brimmed with razor-sharp fangs, a testament to its predatory prowess.

As Leo drew nearer, the Wolf devil retreated into the shadows, its form melding seamlessly with the darkness that cloaked the building. It was a chilling display of its camouflage skills, a foreboding reminder that danger lurked within the very heart of the warehouse.

"This might be a bigger pain than I thought," Leo mused silently, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As he closed in on the derelict structure, a sudden burst of motion erupted from the darkness. A small, rounded figure hurtled out, its back bearing the vicious claw marks of being flung with force. Leo's keen eyes locked onto the incoming projectile, tracking its trajectory with precision.

Swiftly and skillfully, Leo intercepted the airborne assailant, barely grasping the fleshy mass before expertly redirecting it toward the unforgiving ground. A nauseating splatter of flesh and blood painted the freshly coated ground.

Within the warehouse, low, guttural growls reverberated, accompanied by the telltale sounds of restless movement. It was evident that their presence had been detected, and the devils within were preparing to meet their intruder head-on.

Coming to a halt, Leo glanced at the gruesome sight before him—the fleshy mess sprawled on the ground, still pulsating with a sickening vitality. Inspiration struck, and with a swift motion, Leo discarded his suit jacket and rolled up his dress shirt to his elbow. Determined, he seized the organic mass, deftly redirecting another projectile hurtling toward him from the depths of the warehouse.

With a calculated incision, Leo breached the surface, reaching into the squirming mass and coating his hand with its blood before releasing it back onto the ground. A crimson stain marred the floor, serving as a grotesque testament to the macabre ritual.

Before another fleshy projectile could assail him, Leo charged into the darkness, prepared to confront the devils lurking within head-on. The enveloping darkness momentarily obscured his vision, forcing him to rely on his instincts and senses to navigate the treacherous surroundings. Gradually, his eyes adjusted, revealing a nightmarish scene within the warehouse's confines.

His gaze fell upon the Spore Devil, a repulsive creature that seemed to be spawned from decaying organic matter intertwined with fungal tendrils. The sickly hues of putrid greens and purples emanating from its pulsating form mingled with the noxious stench that permeated the air, provoking an involuntary "Ew" from Leo's lips.

Undeterred by the repugnant presence before him, Leo pressed forward, his heart pounding with adrenaline and anticipation. His eyes scanned the vicinity, searching for any other devils that may pose a threat within the darkened expanse.

In the distance, a grotesque amalgamation known as the Pencil Devil caught Leo's attention. Its body twisted with jagged edges and sharp points, and it wielded its lead core with malicious intent. As the devil frantically drew on the metal walls of the warehouse, its two-dimensional illustrations came to life, taking on grotesque forms.

Leo swiftly maneuvered, skillfully wielding Kishibe's knife to carve through another fleshy projectile, coating his hand with fresh blood before charging onward. His agile movements allowed him to dodge the Wolf Devil's claws, slipping beneath its airborne assault and smearing its underbelly with the blood he carried.

As Leo closed in on the Spore Devil, a sudden burst of green gas erupted from one of its spores, momentarily blinding both Leo and the devil's allies. Undeterred by the momentary setback, Leo sidestepped a tendril lunging from the Spore Devil, using the gust of wind caused by the devil's actions to clear the air.

Simultaneously, the Pencil Devil's creation met its end, its grotesque form impaled by Kishibe's knife, bringing a swift demise to its nightmarish existence. Sensing movement, Leo swiftly evaded another tendril from the Spore Devil, maintaining his focus on the Pencil Devil in the corner as it attempted to conjure another abomination onto the metal wall. But its efforts were thwarted as Leo splashed blood onto its back, instilling a sudden wave of fear that caused the devil and its allies to freeze in place.

SNAP!

A sudden snap echoed through the air, accompanied by a brilliant display of flames. The fleshy mass Leo had left behind burst into a conflagration, each droplet of blood transforming into a fiery ember that swiftly raced inside, consuming everything in its path.

The first victim of the flames was the Wolf Devil, its underbelly igniting with a desperate attempt to extinguish the growing inferno. Despite its efforts, the fire-ravaged its form, spreading across its body as pained whimpers filled the air.

The flames then claimed the Pencil Devil, its back engulfed in the blazing inferno, reducing its once yellow form to charred remains. The scent of burning wood hung heavily in the air as the devil succumbed to the consuming fire.

SNAP!

Finally, with another snap the Spore Devil caught flames, the flames rapidly encroaching upon its wretched existence. Unable to obtain any of the fleshy mess's blood, Leo witnessed as the flames engulfed the Spore Devil, eradicating it from the inside out. A burning sensation gripped Leo's lungs as the fire eradicated the spores that had infiltrated, causing him to cough out smoke, a testament to the ultimate demise of the Spore Devil.

Peering through the haze of smoke, Kishibe and Makima observed the warehouse's transformation into a smoldering structure. As Leo emerged from the inferno, the blood that had once adorned his hand now disintegrated into ashen remnants, fluttering away in the breeze.

Unfazed by the spectacle, Kishibe brought his flask to his lips, taking a nonchalant sip, his stoic demeanor unwavering. His weathered face revealed nothing as if the sight before him was merely an expected outcome.

In stark contrast, Makima's wide eyes reflected a mix of awe and fascination, her lips curving into an ironic smile. She eagerly absorbed every detail, etching the extraordinary scene into her memory. The burning picture of the warehouse, etched in her mind, a vivid recollection of power and chaos entwined.

Picking up his jacket from the ground, Leo shook off any dust that had latched on and made his way back to give Kishibe back his knife.

While Leo's attention was momentarily fixated on Kishibe, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Makima, her unwavering gaze transfixed on the billowing smoke that ascended from the charred remains of the warehouse. The tendrils of smoke intertwined and curled, a haunting dance against the backdrop of the darkening sky.

"That's it?" Leo's voice carried a faint trace of disappointment as he glanced at Kishibe, his eyes searching for confirmation.

In response, Kishibe, maintaining his stoic demeanor, simply nodded in affirmation, giving no indication of further plans or surprises. He took another sip from his flask, as if to underscore the finality of the situation, leaving Leo with a sense of resignation.

Leo's gaze shifted back to the dissipating plumes of smoke, the remnants of the fiery battle that had unfolded moments ago. A sigh escaped his lips.

Draping his jacket over his shoulder, Leo began his departure. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly against the pavement, leaving Kishibe and Makima behind as they awaited the arrival of a cleanup crew to restore the aftermath of the intense confrontation.

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