Early in the morning, Souta pushed his ice?cream cart through the busy streets.

  The weather was cold, the sky gray, and the smell of fresh bread mixed with the steam rising from cafés.

  Two schoolgirls approached.

  — “Mr. Kihara!”

  — “How, Shizume, Hana! How are you? I hope you didn’t skip school. Academic formation is important.”

  Shizume, the taller one, leaned on the counter.

  — “Aaahhh, I know… but it’s so boring, right Hana?”

  Hana, short, pale?skinned, black?eyed, timid, simply nodded.

  — “Y?yes, Shizume.”

  Souta raised an eyebrow, sarcastic:

  — “You’re so shy you just accept anything, Hana.”

  Hana blushed, lowering her head.

  Shizume laughed:

  — “But you’re like that too, aren’t you, sir?”

  The words cut like blades. Souta sighed.

  — “Ahh… come on, kid, respect your elders. What do you want?”

  Hana murmured, barely audible:

  — “Strawberry…”

  Shizume leaned in too close, staring at Souta from up close.

  He felt awkward, but kept his composure.

  — “What are you doing, girl?”

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  Shizume smiled.

  — “You’re really handsome… you could be an actor or a model. Why sell ice cream?”

  Souta answered with a crooked smile.

  — “I hate hot places.”

  The scene dissolved.

  It was only a distorted memory, an echo of his previous life.

  On the battlefield, Souta raised his spoon.

  Magical pressure burst outward like an invisible shockwave.

  The ground shook.

  The air warped.

  Stingara collapsed, suffocated by the density of his aura.

  Ignarok and the Tempest-class demons widened their eyes.

  — “Who is this guy…? This magical pressure… it’s like a Celestial General’s… almost like a Right Hand!”

  Souta smirked, provoking:

  — “Stingara, stay there being the useless princess you are… and watch how it’s done.”

  All three attacked at once.

  Ignarok charged in flames, his incandescent sword roaring.Zepharion unleashed invisible wind slashes.Silmure spread threads like deadly webs.

  Souta spun the spoon.

  Shadows rose, swallowing part of the attacks.

  He dodged with Shadow Step, appearing behind the enemies, striking with strength amplified by the Gourd Spoon.

  Every movement was precise, like a dance between blades and fire.

  — “I was holding back so I wouldn’t draw attention… but you’re getting too bold. Let’s dance.”

  Souta charged with brutality.

  He knocked Ignarok down with a direct kick to the chest.Dodged Zepharion’s spear and punched him in the stomach.Cut Silmure’s threads with the Draconic Spoon, releasing ice.

  The battlefield turned into chaos—explosions, slashes, shadows everywhere.

  Silmure retreated, pulling the other two back.

  Ignarok tried to recover, but Stingara, panting, grabbed him by the arm.

  With a scream, she hurled him into the ground.

  The demon gritted his teeth, furious.

  — “I’m still here! Why the hell are you ignoring me?!”

  Ignarok laughed, spitting blood.

  — “Get lost, you useless brat. Want another beating?”

  Stingara clenched her teeth, tears and rage mixing.

  Her solar aura boiled, painting the battlefield in red and orange.

  — “You worm…”

  The sunset inside her was beginning to turn into something else.