A/n: Thank you to the people reading this fanfic if there's any! 💕

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The forest echoed with the sounds of battle, the clash of swords against clawed paws, and the anguished cries of the hunted. Arima Kousei's heart raced as he sprinted through the shadows, his instincts honed by years of survival guiding him to the heart of the fray. He had arrived too late to prevent the werewolf attack, and his chest tightened with a mixture of grief and determination.

Amidst the chaos, he saw Hatoshii—his mentor, his friend, and the one who had guided him through the complexities of his existence—fighting valiantly against the dark creatures that sought to consume them. The sight of Hatoshii's struggles ignited a fire within Kousei's chest, propelling him forward with a fierce resolve. Like his mentor, he fought against the werewolves with all his might even if they were too outmatched.

As he engaged in battle, the darkness seemed to encroach upon them, threatening to devour both light and hope. Kousei's movements were fluid, a dance of blades and shadows that defied the boundaries of his supernatural existence. His robes swirled around him as he fought, his very being a testament to the unity of his two worlds.

But as the hours wore on, fatigue began to gnaw at his limbs, and the weight of the battle pressed down upon him. At the same time, he could feel Hatoshii's presence growing weaker, a realization that filled him with a sense of urgency. Hatoshii's voice, though strained, carried a hint of pride as he shouted to Kousei over the cacophony of battle. "Kousei, protect our world. You have the strength within you to forge a new path."

Kousei's eyes met Hatoshii's gaze, a mixture of determination and sadness reflecting in his eyes. "I won't let your sacrifice be in vain. I'll honor your legacy."

And so, with Hatoshii's words echoing in his mind, Kousei fought on, his movements fueled by both grief and determination. His mentor has just passed away after a werewolf bit his neck. Soon, his sword cleaved through the darkness, his very essence a testament to the prophecy that had been spoken.

As the night wore on, a change began to unfold. Light emerged from Kousei's sword, its brilliance a beacon of hope that cut through the shadows. And then, as if guided by an unseen force, ancient Latin characters emerged on his blade, spelling out the word "virtus," which translates to "courage."

Kousei's heart swelled with a mixture of awe and understanding. The prophecy was moving, and he was a part of it—a figure chosen not just by fate, but by his own choices and actions.

As dawn broke over the horizon, the light that emanated from Kousei's sword grew stronger, bathing the forest in a radiant glow. The battle raged on, but amidst the chaos, the symbol of courage etched onto his blade was a testament to the power of unity, sacrifice, and the hope that could be found even in the darkest of times.

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A/n: Arigatou gozaimasu! Happy to see you reading this book! Don't forget to vote and comment! 🩷