CARNIS (English Version)

The cold of dawn was biting.

The wind whipped through the streets, whistling between alleys and lifting tiny whirlwinds of dust.

Daytona walked alone, staggering, the weight of her recent defeat still heavy on her shoulders.

Her bare feet scraped against the rough asphalt, each step echoing between the abandoned buildings on the outskirts.

Wearing the newly acquired black cloak, the young woman looked like a living shadow, lost among the concrete and the night.

"You survived." Belzebub's deep voice echoed in her mind, more serious than usual.

"Few return after facing one of the Seven Kings. Especially Asmodeus."

Daytona didn't answer.

Her wounded pride weighed more than her body.

She dragged herself to a broken sidewalk and sat down, resting her head in her hands.

The Ring of Lust, Asmodeus's gaze, the brutal blows she had barely seen coming…

All of it still spun in her head like an uncontrollable whirlwind.

She was weak.

That realization cut deep like a blade.

"Weakness is only the soil where true power grows," murmured Belzebub. "You will bloom… if you survive."

For long minutes, Daytona stayed there, listening only to her own ragged breathing and the distant hum of the sleeping city.

When her strength returned, at least a little, she got up and made her way back to the motel.

The Roadside Motel, Las Vistas.

An old building, neon signs flickering, doors creaking — it looked even more decayed under the gray light of dawn.

Daytona climbed the steps like a ghost.

In the hallway, every light flickered as she passed, as if recognizing the new density of her aura.

In room 217, Martin and Huracan were playing cards on an improvised table made of a cardboard box.

As soon as the door creaked open, both jumped.

"Daytona!" Martin rushed to her, eyes wide. "You disappeared for hours! Where the hell were you?"

Huracan stayed still, but his eyes glowed with suspicion.

He could feel it — the energy around her was distorted, vibrating at frequencies that hinted at other dimensions.

Daytona just raised her hand, asking for silence.

She stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto the hard mattress.

Martin stepped closer, worried, but Huracan placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave her. She needs rest… not explanations right now."

Reluctantly, Martin stepped back.

Hours later.

The pale light of dawn filtered through the cracked window.

Daytona woke up with the metallic taste of defeat still on her tongue.

She sat up, staring at her hands.

"I'm not invincible…" she murmured to herself.

"Not yet."

Belzebub chuckled softly in her mind.

"It's never about being invincible, Daytona. It's about being the last one standing."

After a cold shower that barely washed off the smell of brimstone clinging to her skin, Daytona found Martin and Huracan waiting.

They didn't say a word, just waited.

Daytona told them everything.

She spoke about the alley, the portal, the leap into Setealem, the Ring of Lust, Asmodeus… and the humiliating beating she took.

When she finished, the silence was thick as fog.

Martin blinked rapidly, trying to process it all.

Huracan stared at the floor, thoughts racing.

"So… it really exists," Huracan whispered. "Setealem is real."

"And much worse than any book ever described," Daytona added, her voice hoarse.

"And these… Kings?" Martin asked, frowning.

Belzebub's voice boomed, clear and audible in the room:

"Seven Kings. Each represents and commands a Ring of Setealem.

Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, Sloth, Lust, and Greed."

Huracan nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

"And you, Belzebub, you're the King of…?"

"Gluttony," he answered proudly.

Martin's eyes widened.

"So… like… Daytona's carrying one of the most powerful demons in Hell inside her?"

"Practically, yes," Belzebub replied, amused.

Daytona scoffed.

"And even then, I got my ass kicked."

Belzebub laughed.

"You're young, Daytona. You've barely scratched the true power inside you."

Hours later, gathered in the abandoned lot behind the motel, Huracan spoke up:

"We need to train."

Daytona looked at him, surprised.

"Train?"

Huracan nodded.

"You can't rely only on brute force or the F1.

(F1: F1 or Form One is Daytona's first transformation, giving her: extreme cellular regeneration, claws, hypersonic speed, up to 12 identical copies with the same strength, super strength, and glowing red eyes)

If you want to survive another fight like that… you need to be faster, smarter.

And we need to get better too. If we're going to stand by your side, we can't be dead weight."

Martin hesitated, then took a deep breath.

"I'm in."

Daytona felt something strange inside her chest — something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Gratitude.

"Thank you. Really," she said.

Huracan crossed his arms.

"It's not for you. It's for us too. I don't want to be crushed by some fifty-meter demon."

They laughed.

Even in this new, terrifying world, there was still room for friendship.

Later that night…

Daytona looked at the black cloak tossed over the bed.

She picked it up and put it on.

It wasn't magic.

It wasn't special.

But when she draped the cloak over her shoulders, she felt different.

More focused.

More determined.

More herself.

At the window, the wind howled.

Belzebub spoke in her mind, almost like a warning:

"Setealem has seen you. The Angels have seen you. What lies ahead will be more than survival, Daytona.

It will be war."

Daytona clenched her fists.

Let it come.

She would be ready.

Or die trying.

The rising sun painted the sky in golden and orange hues.

The morning in Las Vistas looked ordinary to anyone who couldn't see beyond the veil of reality.

But for Daytona, the entire world felt suspended, charged with invisible tension.

The black cloak swayed gently on her back as she walked to the abandoned lot, the meeting spot Huracan had chosen.

Martin was already there, trying to lift a chunk of concrete with pitiful effort.

Huracan, meanwhile, sat on a broken wall, eyes half-closed, watching Daytona approach.

"Ready to sweat, princess?" Martin teased, panting.

Daytona arched an eyebrow.

"More ready than you, apparently."

Huracan smirked.

"No fighting, kids. We've got work to do."

The start of the training was embarrassing.

Huracan tried to teach them basic movement techniques — quick dodges, using momentum — but Daytona was impatient.

Her reflexes were sharp, boosted by Belzebub's influence, but her technique was, to put it mildly, primitive.

Martin wasn't much better. His punches were slow, clumsy, often ending with him flat on the ground.

Daytona sighed heavily after dodging yet another sloppy attack.

"This is useless. I should be training against someone real."

Belzebub laughed in her mind.

"You mean… me?"

Daytona rolled her eyes.

"No, thanks. I'm still stitching my pride back together after the last beating."

Huracan cut into her thoughts.

"Listen, Daytona. Strength without technique is like a sword without a blade.

Nice to look at, but useless in battle."

The girl crossed her arms.

She knew Huracan was right, but accepting it was another matter.

"Here's what we'll do," Huracan said. "Today, we'll just work on your control. You're too strong now. Every move could crush a normal person."

Martin nodded, a bit scared.

"Like that punch you threw at school… that guy basically evaporated."

Daytona looked away, uncomfortable.

She still dreamed about the moment she lost control.

She still heard the sickening crack of the boy's skull.

She shook her head, forcing the image away.

"Okay. Control."

"Control," Huracan echoed.

They spent hours practicing.

Daytona punched the air, focusing on dialing back her strength.

She jumped over rocks without shattering them.

She ran at high speeds without breaking the ground beneath her feet.

At first, it was frustrating.

Belzebub mocked her occasionally in her mind.

"You look like a newborn calf trying to walk."

But slowly, her movements became smoother, more natural.

It was like taming a wild beast inside her — a beast that roared for freedom and blood.

The sun was already high when Huracan called for a break.

They sat under the shade of a dead tree, breathing heavily.

Martin opened a bottle of water and handed it to Daytona.

"Have you thought about… how you'll face the other Kings?" he asked, staring at the sky.

Daytona took a sip and handed the bottle back.

"I think about it all the time."

Belzebub cut in.

"You must understand that Asmodeus was just the beginning. The others… will be worse."

Huracan frowned.

"And it's not just them. If the Celestial Angels already know about you… it's only a matter of time before they act."

Martin shivered.

"Angels… they're supposed to be good, right?"

Huracan let out a bitter laugh.

"Not in our case. To them, Daytona is an anomaly. A threat to divine order."

Daytona clenched her fists.

She was tired of being treated like a mistake.

Like something that needed to be erased.

She stood up, the black cloak rippling in the wind.

"Then we'll keep training. We'll keep getting stronger.

If they want war… they'll get one."

Later that same day…

Daytona decided to wander through the city alone.

She needed to think.

She needed to feel the world under her feet without anyone looking at her like a monster or a threat.

The Las Vistas neighborhood was a decaying mix of graffiti-covered streets, shuttered shops, and silent churches.

Walking through alleys, she saw kids playing with flat soccer balls, old men smoking on stoops, stray dogs wandering aimlessly.

Ordinary life.

A world she could never belong to again.

The thought hurt more than any of Asmodeus's blows.

"You're not less human because you're different," Belzebub said softly.

"Oh, and you'd know all about humanity, huh?" she shot back, cynical.

Belzebub laughed.

"More than you think, Daytona.

I watched humanity be born. I saw their fears, their passions, their sins…

And even when they fall, they keep fighting."

Daytona stopped in front of a shop with shattered mirrors.

Her reflection multiplied in distorted fragments.

How many versions of her existed now?

The innocent girl?

The creature born of flesh?

The warrior who would defy Setealem?

She didn't know.

But she knew one thing: she wouldn't give up.

That night…

Back at the motel, she lay down without saying a word to the others.

The black cloak carefully folded over the chair.

She closed her eyes.

The world slept.

And in her dream…

Belzebub was waiting.

In a field of living flesh and black skies, he stood there — imposing, with his dinosaur skull mask covering his face.

"Time to stop running, Daytona," he said. "Time to fight."

Daytona smiled.

A tired smile, but a determined one.

She took her fighting stance.

And ran toward her first master.

The war had only just begun.