The five agents returned to the gym and immediately locked eyes on the two monsters still laughing in animated debate with Agent Jim. They spoke like kids. But after what they'd seen this morning… the word "kids" didn't quite fit anymore.

Most of the agents watched with careful curiosity.

But Agent Nick?

Agent Nick was burning.

His thoughts twisted into rusted barbs. Humiliation. Rage. Resentment, dark and choking. Every breath came with the bitter taste of inadequacy.

"Warning: Deep resentment and hostility toward Enforcers detected. Potential danger. Potential danger."

Hell's Order buzzed through Samuel and Danny's minds like an alarm that skipped the siren and went straight to dread.

They turned in sync.

Agent Nick's eyes locked with theirs—cold, exposed, and brimming with intent.

His hatred wasn't subtle.

It was a brand.

Meanwhile, Agent Jim—completely oblivious to the psychological landmines brewing behind him—clapped his hands with glee.

"Alright! Everyone's here! Let's get the sparring draw started—I need to know who I'm beating up today!"

"Sparring match?" Danny tilted his head.

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "We doing WWE now?"

Jim cracked his knuckles. "Every training session ends with a fight. Helps keep our instincts sharp. We call it the 'morning cleanse.' You'll get the rules. We draw names to match opponents."

"How's the draw done?" Samuel asked.

"Line up. You'll be assigned a number. Even numbers write their names, odd numbers do the drawing. That's it. Pure fate."

Danny's grin widened. Something primal stirred inside him. Maybe it was the new strength. Maybe it was his battle-type status whispering: You were built for this.

"Hell yeah," he muttered.

Samuel sighed. "I thought I could chill after running a jungle marathon on turbo mode. Guess not."

Four more agents entered—Agent Vick leading with his usual commanding stride, followed by Agent Sally, the division's medic, with her portable scanner. Trailing behind were the two demon agents: Rex, who moved like a snake pretending to be human, and Agent Black—the female demon with obsidian eyes and the emotional range of a blade.

The moment they stepped into the gym, Hell's Order activated.

"Two demons detected in vicinity. Stay ready for battle mode."

"Two demons?" Samuel's voice dropped low as both boys instinctively scanned the room.

They spotted Agent Nick walking in with three figures. Just one glance was enough—these had to be the demon agents. Agent Rex included.

The boys lowered their guard—but only slightly.

They weren't threatened. Just… cautious.

This wasn't just sparring day anymore.

It was a war rehearsal.

"Agents!" Vick's voice sliced the chatter. "Form up. Roll call."

Within seconds, the gym floor shifted from casual to tactical.

Even-numbered agents wrote names, rolled slips, and dropped them into the heavy ceramic draw jar. The first odd-numbered agent stepped forward—Agent Angela. She reached in, pulled out a paper, and unrolled it.

She didn't flinch.

"Agent Nick."

A pulse of electricity passed through the room.

"First Match: Agent Angela vs. Agent Nick," Vick announced.

The two stepped into the ring.

Angela held her twin daggers—obsidian-colored blades with crescent curve edges, moving like an extension of her thoughts.

Nick gripped twin iron nunchaku—cold, precise, deadly in rotation.

"You may begin," Vick stated.

Samuel leaned toward Jim. "Uh—rules? We were not briefed."

Jim replied without turning his eyes from the ring. "Simple. Use any weapons. First to land three fatal blows wins. One clean kill-shot equals one point. Ten-minute limit. Stop just before impact. If both still standing after ten, highest score wins. Or it's a draw."

Danny's heart thudded faster.

This wasn't training.

This was controlled war.

Angela moved first.

A silent snap through the mat—and then she exploded forward, her body gliding low like liquid shadow. Twin daggers flashed, one in a feint swipe, the other cutting upward in a vertical arc toward Nick's jaw.

Nick's nunchucks spun to life.

He didn't retreat. He stepped into the chaos.

Metal clashed with steel in an impossible blur—her blades a hurricane, his nunchaku a circular storm. Sparks flew. Their weapons snapped through parries, counters, reversals. No wasted motion. No breath to spare.

Their bodies pivoted and cracked across the mat in perfect synchronicity—like they'd rehearsed this battle in another lifetime.

Then—Angela leapt back.

One dagger flipped upward in the air—a deliberate toss.

Nick's gaze followed it for half a second.

That was all she needed.

Her heel shot forward in a downward arc—a bladed heel-kick aimed for his thigh. He lifted a leg to block, eyes still trained on the falling dagger.

Wrong move.

She twisted mid-kick.

Mid-air pivot. Body inverted.

Her other hand sliced upward, blade screaming past his defenses.

Nick's nunchuck raised just in time to block the falling dagger—

—but her second dagger stopped inches from his neck.

Dead still.

Point scored.

Samuel's heart nearly stopped. "Is… sparring always like this here?"

Danny didn't answer. His eyes were locked on Angela.

Not in fear. Not even awe.

Something deeper.

He didn't know if he was terrified… or thrilled.

But his blood was boiling.

And something inside him whispered:

"What is this feeling?"

The battle raged until the clock bled out. Ten minutes. No decisive blow—just ruthless rhythm.

In the end, Agent Angela won by a single point.

Both agents stepped down from the ring with blank faces, their emotions buried deep. But not deep enough.

Fury still flickered in Agent Nick's eyes—barely suppressed, barely human.

He kept staring at the two boys standing near the draw jar, watching the next matchup with a mix of curiosity and awkward detachment.

"Damn it. I totally lost today… because of them," Nick muttered under his breath. "That bastard ruined my mood. I can't focus. Can't stop thinking about them."

Since the moment he'd met them… it felt like his world had started to twist out of control.

The next draw began.

Agent Jones stepped forward and reached into the jar. He pulled a name, unrolled it, and tilted his head.

"Agent Black," he said.

Agent Nick cleared his throat and called it aloud.

"Next match: Agent Jones vs. Agent Black."

Across the floor, Samuel narrowed his eyes.

"Hell's Order—analyze and identify what type of demon she is," he commanded silently.

Analysis complete.

Subject: Hybrid second-generation demon. Parentage: Two high-level demon entities.

Abilities: Unknown. Estimated threat level: B-Class based on aura signature.

"B-Class?" Danny hissed under his breath. "She's probably even stronger than Queen Zora…"

Samuel's mind reeled. "There are hybrids? Second generation demons? What the hell is this…"

Neither of them moved closer.

Neither of them said another word.

They were very glad they didn't get matched against her today.

To Be Continue.