Chekhov was holding his right arm up to the sun, examining his index finger. The afternoon sun’s warm rays shone brightly, illuminating a golden ring with a sparkling black diamond embedded into its top.

‘I didn’t expect this ring to be my Sacred Gear. It had never appeared in the original timeline.’

He tilted the back of his hand toward his face and started scrutinizing the black diamond engraved in his ring.

‘This black diamond has a direct link to my soul. It can be used as a tunnel to release fragments of my soul to the outside.’

Back when Chekhov had been wandering the Cosmic Abyss, he had tried and tested the limits on dark energy. Although there was nothing else to interact with, he could still experiment on his own soul.

His most frequent experiment was the tearing and re-attaching of fragments of his soul. Although the pain had initially been unbearable, he eventually became unperturbed after countless experiments.

‘I wonder what I can do if I release a fragment of my soul into someone else’s body.’

Although Chekhov could easily kill ordinary humans, finding ways to secretly experiment on them was somewhat tricky. A straightforward method such as breaking into a random house at night was too risky. He didn’t have any stealth techniques or the ability to disrupt memories, and his overall strength in this world was still weak.

Becoming blacklisted by any of the supernatural forces of this world was not a feasible option until he had significant power. At the present, any mid-class supernatural being could easily kill him one-on-one.

Chekhov lowered his arm back down to his side. The ring appeared to momentarily glow with a bright white light and vanish into thin air.

‘Mittelt should have sensed my Sacred Gear too. That means Raynare might come looking for me. I could have a huge opportunity here…’

. . . . .

Three days later.

The streets of Kuoh Town were exceptionally busy today. In some populous areas nearby the town square, cars were moving by at the speed akin to a turtle.

Nevertheless, there was a small street that was much more peaceful than the rest. Along each side was a spotless white sidewalk, and on each sidewalk laid a straight-run staircase leading up to a horizontal bridge. The bridge connected the two staircases, looming 5 meters above the small street.

A black-haired young man could be seen standing on this bridge. The evening sun shone majestically on his face, revealing his alluring caramel brown eyes. The young man was leaning forward with both arms on the bridge’s railing, and he seemed to be enjoying the view as the cars were occasionally passing underneath him.

‘It’s been three days and I’ve had no luck yet. If the Plumpurple Stockfish doesn’t bite by the end of the week, I’ll have to change my plans.’

Needless to say, this black-haired young man was Chekhov. After his visit to the abandoned church, he had realized that his body functions had returned to normal. Devouring a child would only supply him with enough energy to last one day.

Three days ago, he had decided to return home and leech off his parents’ resources. Additionally, every evening, he had waited for an hour at this particular bridge, pretending to enjoy the scenery.

Thirty minutes quickly passed by and there was no sign of anyone. The sun was lingering above the horizon as it emanated a majestic, crimson red light, producing a warm and enticing atmosphere.

‘I’ll wait for five more minutes and then head back home. I can’t waste too much time here; I need to conduct a few more tests with my Sacred Gear.’

Suddenly, a delicate, feminine voice sounded behind Chekhov.

“Hi, you’re Chekhov Serebya, right? Or am I wrong…”

Chekhov turned away from the railing, facing a young lady who was visually striking. She had violet eyes, a slim figure, and long black hair that reached her hips. She was wearing a red jacket, white undershirt, and a green skirt that reached her mid-thighs.

‘Perfect. She’s here. The peak low-class Fallen Angel, Raynare.’

Chekhov politely responded back with a smile.

“Yes, that’s me! Do you need anything that I can help you with?”

The young woman stammered as she spoke, “Hi I-um I just wanted to ask you a quick question.”

She innocently lowered her head, avoiding eye contact as a faint red blush appeared on her cheeks. “Are you dating anyone right now?”

“No, I’m currently single.”

Raynare tilted her head upward revealing her glistening violet eyes. “That’s wonderful…”

“T-then can you go out with me?”

Hearing this, Chekhov feigned a surprised expression. He slightly raised his upper eyelids and eyebrows as he stood still for a moment.

Chekhov then revealed a friendly smile as he replied. “Yes, I would love to go out with you.”

‘My three days of waiting were for good use. This Plumpurple Stockfish has taken the bait.’

. . . . .

A small diner that went by the name of Sakamoto’s Sushi House was situated on a lonely corner of the town square. Although small, its service was excellent and the area wasn’t crowded, giving it a peaceful and relaxing atmosphere. It was late evening, so many of their customers had already left. Only a few tables were still occupied.

Beside a large glass window, a handsome young man with caramel brown eyes and an attractive young lady were facing each other, sitting at a small rectangular table. They had already ordered a sushi meal for two and were waiting for the food to arrive.

The young man smiled and said, “I’m glad a beautiful woman like you chose to go out with me.”

The young lady blushed and lowered her head. “I should be saying that to you.”

As one would expect, the young man with caramel brown eyes was Chekhov and the young lady was Raynare, under her alias Yuma. 

Chekhov moved his right arm forward, placing it on top of Raynare’s hand. She lightly giggled as she reciprocated, taking his hand within hers. Their elbows were on the table as their palms touched, and their fingers intertwined. 

Although Chekhov’s expression revealed a slight smile, he was inwardly frowning.

‘Her durability is tough. My dark energy can’t permeate through the barrier that surrounds her skin.’

Chekhov had just tested her by flowing a miniscule amount of dark energy into her skin. However, he was met with an invisible barrier that was blocking his energy. Even after intertwining fingers, he couldn't permeate her barrier, so Chekhov gave up on assessing her durability.

'Applying any more pressure might attract her unwanted attention.'

At this moment, a young woman with long blonde hair was carrying a large plate of sushi. Her uniform consisted of a white buttoned shirt, a navy-blue skirt, and black heels.

‘She should be our waitress. This is my chance.’

When the waitress arrived at a spot 2 meters away from his table, Chekhov launched an invisible wave of dark energy toward the waitress’s right ankle. It ruptured her ankle muscles, causing her to come crashing down with her face on the sushi plate.

Chekhov didn’t always have to use hand or arm gestures when manipulating dark energy. Although the gestures helped to increase his precision and lower his cast time, they weren’t necessary in this case. The waitress was a regular human, so it was easy to rupture her ankle muscles without movement.

BANG!

Rice was scattered all over the floor as the sushi plate landed next to Chekhov. He abruptly let go of Raynare’s hand and stood up with an angry face, glaring at the waiter.

“Is this how Sakamoto’s Sushi House treats their guests? You’ve ruined our first date! We are absolutely not eating your sushi, please just bring us our deserts and the bill!”

While lying on the floor, the waitress with blonde hair propped herself up with her hands. She then faced Chekhov, revealing her face with bits of rice, avocado, and cucumbers stuck on.

She burst into tears, “Aaah I’m sorry! I accidentally tripped and sprained my ankle, it-it won’t happen again!”

The waitress stood up with difficulty and limped back to the kitchen, wincing every time pressure was applied to her right ankle.

Chekhov angrily sat back down, and his mood seemed to lighten up as he affectionately gazed at Raynare’s shocked face.

“Yuma, I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t expect our first date to go like this.”

Raynare’s eyebrows were raised in an arc, and her soft lips were slightly opened. It was as if she didn’t know how to respond.

Chekhov’s face returned to a friendly smile as he continued with an ardent voice, “Don’t worry about it, I won’t let a measly waiter ruin our first date! Luckily for us, I have homemade sushi in my bag.”

He reached out to his backpack that lay on the seat beside him and took out a rectangular-shaped orange container. He opened the lid, revealing a fresh cucumber smell. At first glance, the container was filled with ordinary sushi rolls made up of medium-grain white rice. However, Chekhov had previously poisoned the food with tiny fragments of his soul.

During the past three days, Chekhov had conducted many experiments with his Sacred Gear, and this was one of them. He had torn apart several fragments that added up to a total of 15% of his soul, storing each instance of them in a sushi roll. These soul fragments were too weak to have independent thoughts, but they could respond to basic commands such as self-detonation.

Chekhov immediately picked up his chopsticks with his right hand and popped a sushi roll into his mouth.

‘In case she has any doubts, I’ll quickly eat one to show her that the food is safe.’

Raynare cocked her head and gave Chekhov a smile. “These rolls look awesome!”

She pinched a sushi roll and lifted it up, asking, “Did you make them?”

“Yes, I made them myself. And I even added a secret ingredient. I hope you don’t mind, it’s a little spicy.”

“Spicy food is no big deal for me. As long as it doesn’t make me explode!”

Both their smiles broke into laughter, and they ended up finishing the sushi together. During their meal, the restaurant manager intervened, apologizing for the clumsy blonde waitress and placed two large vanilla sundaes in front of them.

“Again, I deeply apologize for the inconvenience. These sundaes will be on the house!”

Chekhov glanced at the manager and brusquely said, “Sure, now leave us be.”

While grabbing a spoonful of the vanilla sundae, Raynare gazed at him with teary eyes. “Chekhov, this has been the best day of my life. Let’s have a stroll in the park together.”

Chekhov replied with a tender smile. “Yuma, I like that idea. It’ll be just the two of us, alone…”

With a flushed face, Raynare took Chekhov's hand and excitedly rushed out the restaurant.

‘Easier to reel in than I expected. Hmm... these Plumpurple fish aren't usually known for their wisdom.’

. . . . .

A dozen kilometers northeast of Sakamoto’s Sushi House was a large rectangular open area of lush vegetation. Most of this area consisted of a blooming meadow that was flush with orange, pink, and purple wildflowers. At the center of the meadow was a calm and serene lake, the pristine waters displaying a dazzling red-orange light as the sun was almost concealed under the horizon. The crisp night wind whipped through the grass, giving the park a chilly and fresh atmosphere.

As nightfall was approaching, most of the park goers had already left, hence only the chirps of crickets and katydids could be heard. However, there were two shadowy figures that could be seen strolling on a light gray concrete path that stretched through the meadow. As they approached the lake, their vivid reflections were displayed by the sun’s twilight gleam.

‘Once Raynare reveals her wings, it’ll be my confirmation that both her sound barrier is up, and this place is locked down.’

The black-haired girl with violet eyes ran a few meters ahead of Chekhov and stopped. She turned around, giving him a smile while blocking his path. Chekhov’s walking also came to a halt.

Raynare put her hands behind her back and innocently asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

Chekhov gazed at her with affectionate eyes and answered her. “Sure, anything you want. I’ll do it.”

‘These soul fragments add up to a total of 7% of my soul. Although detonating them will be somewhat expensive, my soul will eventually recover.’

Raynare spoke with a sweet voice, “Since this is our first date, I have a very special request.”

As she said this, her innocent eyes abruptly transformed into a more narrow and intimidating structure. Two black feathered wings grew out of her back.

“Will you die for m—”

Raynare felt a severe pain coming from her chest and let out a high-pitched scream.

“AAAAHHHH!”

She dropped on her knees, coughing up a dark red liquid. She glanced upward in shock, only to see a cold and indifferent face with eyes that were more intimidating than hers.

Chekhov had silently detonated all his soul fragments without hesitation, rupturing many of her delicate internal organs.

Before she even had a second to recover, Chekhov held out his right arm and performed a horizontal swipe. A momentary black flash could be seen as he released a highly concentrated energy wave toward Raynare. The wave landed on her chest, near the area where Chekhov detonated his soul fragments, shattering her defensive barrier and producing a small fracture in her ribs.

Chekhov continued his aggression with 5 highly concentrated waves. They each landed accurately on her chest, in the exact area where the first wave had hit. In between each wave, Chekhov calmly took one step forward to shorten his distance toward her as each wave was violently thrusting her backward.

Her blood splattered ubiquitously, drenching the viridescent grass in a dark red hue. Inside the sound barrier, deafening shrieks could be heard, but they gradually quieted down once Chekhov concluded his barrage of waves.

‘I need her soul to be devoured alive. Any more waves may kill her.’

Raynare’s fleshy red figure was lying face first in the blood-stained grass. She was in a critical condition with fractured ribs and several hemorrhages surrounding her heart, lungs, and esophagus; only able to endure until now because of her Fallen Angel physique. Despite her extensive durability, her current state rendered her completely motionless.

Squishes and crackles could be heard as Chekhov softly tread on the blood-stained grass, approaching her tattered body. He flipped her over and took off her top, carefully inspecting her injuries. Most of the damage was within her upper chest, while some had trailed into her lower chest. Although bloody, the further parts of her body had not been inordinately ruptured.

‘This is the perfect opportunity to use my Sacred Gear.’

Chekhov’s original plan had been to devour her soul with his Sacred Gear. During his experiments at home, he had found that if he tore 30% of his soul, it would be strong enough to consciously take control of a body.

‘Although I’ll be temporarily weakened, I can always recover my power by devouring my split soul.’

However, there were a few limitations to this technique. His soul fragments relied on support from the main soul to prevent deterioration. The larger the soul fragment, the faster it would deteriorate.

Also, the total value of all his detached soul fragments could not exceed 50% of his main soul.

Chekhov placed his right hand out and laced it with dark energy. A golden ring with an embedded black diamond emerged on his index figure.

At this moment, he heard the lump of bloodied flesh speak out with a soft voice. 

“What… are you? You’re not human!”

Chekhov ignored her and pointed his index finger downward. With a piercing motion, he stabbed his index finger deep into her left eye. 

As his finger penetrated her pupil, Raynare let out an ear-piercing shriek.

‘The eyes are the windows to the soul.’