Kami did not like intruders.

It was hard to blame them. Lukas too would have been terribly annoyed if someone broke into his apartment and started rummaging through his fridge. Plus, the entire ‘being lured out of their territory by Asukans’ bit didn’t exactly foster compassion towards other races.

So, no. Lukas was not expecting his first encounter with wild kami to be sunshine and daisies.

Nor was he expecting to be nearly fried by a bolt of lightning.

But there he was.

An enormous sound rang out, coupled with a blinding flash of light and a shock against his body the likes of which he’d never felt before. Even though he’d subconsciously channeled mana to form a layer around him, the sheer force battered at him like a mighty sledgehammer to the chest, and he quickly found himself lying flat on his back, chunks of earth and debris pattering around him. Lukas tried to push himself up, but static filled his ears and his limbs could only twitch.

“What the hell was that?” he coughed out.

Tanya helped him up, one of her hands supporting his back while the other gripped his arm.

“A greeting. I told you, kami find it annoying when others intrude upon their peace.”

“But why me? I’m not the one who—”

Lukas paused as his charge, the svartalfar, slowly rose out of the ground. The damned creature had sunk into the ground and sought cover while he’d faced the brunt of this so-called greeting.

“I am a collector,” Mori replied with malicious cheerfulness. “You do not survive long in this line of work without learning to evade kami attacks.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me ahead of time?!”

“You are supposed to protect me, not the other way around.”

“Glad to know you’re not looking out for me,” he said angrily, now standing on his own two feet as he regarded the malevolently blackened sky. “Let me guess… a lightning-type kami?”

However, Tanya shook her head. “No. This is one of the raiju— spirits of the storm. They inhabit the skies and serve as intimidators to any who dare intrude.”

“And if the intruder isn’t intimidated?”

“Then they wait for the intruder to intrude. Then they react appropriately.”

Suddenly, Lukas no longer liked the word intrude. “You call them Raiju. You say that like there’s more than one designation of kami.”

Tanya simply crossed her arms.

Interesting. Screen, show me information about Raiju.

Insufficient Local Data.

Lukas sharply inhaled. It almost seemed like something from a different life. Back when he’d first laid eyes on the message, the world still felt like a nightmare he was failing to wake up from.

How things have changed.

He pursed his lips.

How do I acquire local data?

Lack of Nexus with current Realm.

Kill Prey to establish Nexus.

The same as before, then. Kill prey, like the bat in the Crypt of Fiendish Worms, form a nexus with the subastra, then be able to use Scan and Analyze as he wished. Given his luck, he’d definitely be spending lots of time traversing through the mists in the future. Forming a nexus with Ikai was only practical.

Besides… they’re all just prototypes.

There was that feeling again, that instinct that considered everything, even Tanya herself, to be nothing but prey. Future corpses. Monsters to kill. Souls to siphon for his personal ascension. It was a ruthless, utterly selfish thought process that cared for nothing but its own growth. An instinct that only cared for the hunt.

Lukas clenched his fists, bringing himself back to order.

“I— just thought that kami were classified based on what elements they chose to embody,” he slowly added.

“You’re not wrong, I suppose,” Tanya replied, scratching at her chin. “All kami are ethereal, elemental beings. But they have their own variants and species, though you rarely see anything beyond a jann, tengu, or marid.”

Like before, the Screen responded negatively when he ran a search for the terms.

“Our people are often attacked by a tengu,” Mori gruffly offered. “Tengu are creatures belonging to the domain of Air and Earth. Most collectors end up in mountainous borderlands frequented by them.”

“Are they hostile?”

“They like their privacy.”

Lukas glanced back at the newly formed crater on the ground. “Yeah. I can tell. So, uh, Banksi’s kami…” Lukas began, only to have Tanya shake her head.

“Not quite, though given the man’s temperament, you’d expect it to be true. However, the Banksi family is said to wield quite a number of tengu in their arsenal.”

“Just not Zuken himself.”

She shrugged. “Ezzeron is actually a jann, and a rather strong one at that. Jann are creatures of Fire and Air, with absolutely terrible tempers. Ezzeron could do some Fire-shaping in his early days, before…” She paused. “Well, before his progress was furthered only in the aerial domain.”

Lukas shuddered, remembering just how devastating Ezzeron had been during their fight. “And what about the marid?”

“Creatures of Water, though some migrate into the domain of Earth as well. They’re elegant, with egos to match their powers. Both Zuken and Olfric have marids as their kami.”

He considered that for a moment, before nodding. “I can see the resemblance.”

Tanya snorted. “I thought you might. Most spiritists aim to bind a kami that is closest to their own personality, which is why I’m more than a little skeptical about Banksi.”

Lukas arched his eyebrow. “And that’s because…?”

“Marid are usually the least trustworthy of all kami. They are wondrous and sophisticated and love to create things, but they are also well-known for their twisted creations. Janns are much better in that sense. I mean, sure, all Ezzeron can do is destroy, but at least his motives are unquestioned.”

Lukas decided not to point out the hypocrisy of it all. Tanya was a walking, talking twisted contradiction herself— a fusion of a powerful spiritist with an equally strong kami, and a shred of an ancient monarch that had sinister plans for the Empire. A creature even Inanna hadn’t taken lightly.

That was when he remembered something else.

“What about Elena’s familiar? Is that a kami too?”

At that, Tanya looked uncertain. “I’m… not sure. It seems like a Spirit-based kami. Creatures born of illusion, imagination and curses. They embody the domain of Spirit— or Heaven, the fifth element.”

“I see,” he trailed, remembering the strange energy that always seemed to twist and turn around the changeling whenever he was near. “Is that all there is to it?”

“Well,” she hesitated, “there is a fourth kami variant. But people don’t like talking about it. Even mentioning it is supposed to attract its attention and bring bad luck.”

“Well, spit it out. Better to know what it is than suffer from ignorance.”

Taya exchanged a shifty glance with Mori. “It’s called an ifrit. Creatures of Fire and Spirit, malevolent beings that embody extreme negatives. Rage, jealousy, hatred, fear. They confound innocents, guiding them to cause immense slaughter and terror. The Asukan Empire is stringent on its laws about ifrits.”

“I… see.”

“You don’t,” Mori shook her head. “An ifrit is a cruel, self-serving thing. Even us svartalfars are wary of them. They are not merely capable of nurturing the power of fire, but also of forming real bodies and performing all manners of powers. And I speak of those weak enough to be trapped and bound by Asukans. A wild ifrit, on the other hand, would be—”

“Dangerous?” he offered.

“Calamitous. Fortunately, they are terribly rare, especially in such places. You would need truly terrible luck to encounter one.”

Somehow, that did not make him feel better at all.

Arah the Firebringer never cared for anything.

Not of food, of which there was plenty. Not of prey, which was always there to be devoured. Not of the shimmering magma beneath his feet that kept pulsing with endless firepower.

It cared for nothing.

The volcano beneath the metal crypt was a good place to slumber. It kept the flames burning endlessly, the brass and basalt within nearly melted at all times. A feeling of satisfaction, compared to forming ephemeral bonds with weak-willed creatures that dared to call Arah its masters.

Arah had often materialized in the Empire, shapeshifted as a weakened spirit of Fire. It would find a brainless hothead and play the role of prey succumbing before the might of a predator. Then, it would slowly gobble up the Soul Capacity of its victim to enhance its own skills. It would fan the flames of passion and ego within its ‘Master’, making him reckless and wanting for more. He’d go out, kill monsters, level up, and provide Arah more nourishment in the form of more soul capacity. And then again. And again. And again—

Until he died.

And once again, Arah would repeat the process, as it had for countless centuries.

But something new had entered within its territory.

A being of lifeforce, presumably an Asukans, but with a nigh endless soul capacity. Arah was powerful. But even after all this time, Arah’s own Soul was practically inconsequential when pitted against this leviathan’s impossible soul capacity. Even if Araf had slowly sucked the treasure dry for the next millenia, it’d still not run out.

Something like this was a worthy feast for the Raiju and the like, if they ever managed to get off their arrogant claims and scavenge upon the weak.

But Arah wouldn’t complain. Even if the Raiju did not know to take advantage of an opportunity, Arah did.