Nagatoro Novels & Stories

It was rare and could only be harnessed by elemental, rare, and strong wolves who had ki and could beat the heat produced. The only person I knew that could harness such an element happened to be Alpha Ryu, and he hadn’t drawn out a sword ever since… “Please save me…” He groaned. I looked around, scanning the area to see if anyone had seen us. Just as I expected, they were all focused on Ryu. “You have to get me out of here before he kills me.” I couldn’t see anyone holding a sword, nor did I smell any danger. Madona, who had the negation artifact, definitely couldn’t be the one since I punished her for her treacherous tongue. Who then could make a Gamma such as Kyle scared to the bone?

Celeste (already pulling out my phone): “Private portal leaves tomorrow. Rowan’s paying. He lost a bet.” Rowan appears in the doorway holding a credit card and resignation. Rowan: “I hate all of you. Pack light. Kōjin sulks when people are late.” 24 hours later – Mount Atago, Kyoto Prefecture The mountain is on fire in the best way (eternal flames that don’t consume, just dance). Kōjin is waiting at the top. He looks exactly like Seras if she were eight feet tall, made of magma, and wearing a chef’s apron that says “Kiss the Cook or Get Charred.”

He was no longer the filter; he was a part of the pack, and his mind was clear. Ren Tanaka drove with both hands locked around the wheel, his gold eyes shifting constantly to the rearview mirror. He told Laila that the entrance to the final vault wasn't inside a castle or a bank. He explained that it sat beneath the Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha the ancient head shrine that had been built at the base of the mountain over a thousand years ago to pacify the volcanic spirits. The Kurogane syndicate had controlled the shrine’s inner sanctum since the Meiji restoration, using the sacred hot springs beneath the courtyard as a natural cooling system for the Aegis extraction machinery.

"Uhm, can I have your ticket?" Kane raised a brow, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Ticket?" he repeated, his voice deep, teasing. The redhead—Mona, according to her name tag—bit down on her plump lower lip, her gaze darting everywhere except at him. "Sorry, it's just... you look familiar." That made him chuckle. Oh, really? He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering to the large poster plastered beside her booth—a giant picture of himself, fists raised, the underground champion.