The streets of Izanagi were alive with the hushed murmurs of the night. Dim paper lanterns swung lazily from wooden eaves, casting flickering shadows along the cobblestone paths. The scent of grilled fish and burning incense mixed with the staleness of damp alleyways, a familiar contrast in the city’s slums.

  Ren pulled his hood lower over his face, slipping between the crowd like a phantom. The hunger was quiet—for now. But he needed money.

  His clothes were still in decent shape, though the dark fabric clung uncomfortably to his skin, a reminder of how much blood and sweat had soaked into them over the past few days. He had no ryo, no food, and no way to sustain himself without drawing attention. If the hunger struck at the wrong time…

  No. He had to stay in control.

  His eyes scanned the marketplace, looking for a mark—someone with loose coin and a wandering mind. The problem with thieving in the slums was that most people had nothing to steal. A coin pouch here, a trinket there—barely enough to get by.

  He exhaled through his nose and started moving toward the richer districts. But then—

  “…they caught another one last night. A big one.”

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  Ren’s steps slowed.

  He hadn’t been looking for trouble, but trouble had a way of finding him.

  Two men stood near a sake stall, voices low but sharp with excitement. They were Boku—mercenaries in service of the ruling clans. They weren’t samurai, but they held enough influence in Izanagi to operate outside the law when it suited them. Their dark, reinforced garbs bore the emblem of the Sanzu Syndicate—a coiling serpent wrapped around a crescent moon.

  Ren’s stomach turned at the sight.

  The Sanzu Syndicate were not to be trifled with. If they were in the area, it meant one of two things: someone had a bounty on their head, or they were after something rare.

  He adjusted his stance, drifting closer without drawing attention.

  “…the bastard tore through half a squad before we brought it down,” one of the Boku grunted, running a calloused hand through his short, cropped hair. “Had to use three suppression seals just to keep it from reforming.”

  “That strong?” the other one muttered, his voice filled with an almost reverent fear.

  “Stronger. It wasn’t just any beast—it was an Essence Beast.”

  Ren’s pulse skipped.

  He had heard the term before, buried in ancient texts and half-forgotten myths. Essence Beasts were creatures said to be manifestations of raw power, remnants of old gods and forgotten spirits. Unlike regular animals or yokai, they weren’t bound by flesh and blood alone.

  They were alive, but they were also energy itself—living embodiments of the Mandate’s laws.

  His fingers twitched.

  A beast like that… what would happen if he devoured one?

  Would it satiate his hunger?

  Or would it break him?

  He needed to find out.