Markus's eyes snapped open. His breath came sharp and heavy. Cold iron dug into his wrists and ankles, the weight of thick chains pressing against his skin. The air reeked of rust and candle smoke. He struggled—muscles bulging, veins flaring—but the bindings only grew tighter, searing his flesh with faint, glowing runes.
He was in a dining room.
The walls were clean, too clean—white marble polished until it reflected the dim candlelight. A long table stretched down the center of the room, set for a feast that had never happened. The candles burned low, their wax dripping down like blood.
At the far end sat a man dressed in black. A glass of wine rested between his claws, swirling lazily in his grip.
Satsujin.
His crimson eye glowed faintly beneath his mask, amusement twisting his lips.
Markus's chest heaved, his body convulsing with fury. "You…" His voice cracked, heavy with hatred. "You bastard!!"
Satsujin smiled. "Welcome back, Markus Sentryon. Let's have dinner… shall we?"
Markus snarled, thrashing against the chains, his tail whipping violently behind him. The chair screeched against the marble floor. His teeth sank into his lip, blood trickling down his chin.
"Calm yourself," Satsujin said with a quiet laugh. "Dinner is no fun when the guest forgets his manners."
"Go to hell!" Markus bellowed, eyes burning.
Satsujin's grin widened. "Oh, I've been there. Let's make this interesting."
He snapped his fingers.
The white tablecloth flew off in a single motion—
—and Markus's heart stopped.
There they were.
His family.
His mother, his father, his brother Ichigo, his little sister Kaori.
But not alive.
Not whole.
Kaori sat slumped in her chair, her small face trembling, tears of blood streaking from her stapled eyelids. She whimpered softly, her voice cracked and confused. "Why… why can't I see…? Where are you…?"
Ichigo's hands were a mangled mess, all his fingers gone. His head hung low, breath rattling like something dying.
Their mother… her hair was matted with blood, her dress torn to ribbons. Her eyes were red and swollen, her voice broken as she whispered, "M-Markus… please… don't look…"
And their father—
barely breathing, head bowed. His chest rose shallowly, blood pooling beneath his seat.
Satsujin took a sip of wine, unconcerned.
"If you can free yourself before the timer rings…"
A faint beep echoed, and above him, a crimson timer blinked to life. 00:60.
"I'll let your family go," Satsujin continued, smiling faintly. "Well… whoever's still breathing."
He snapped his fingers.
The father jerked violently—then went limp.
Blood sprayed across the tablecloth.
"DAD!!"
Markus's scream ripped through the room, shaking the walls. His tail stiffened, his entire body trembling as he pulled against the chains until they dug deep into his skin.
Kaori sobbed uncontrollably. "What's happening… why isn't he moving…?"
Their mother screamed, clutching her husband's arm, her body wracked with grief.
Markus roared, veins glowing red, blood dripping from his wrists where the chains bit deeper. "STOP IT!!!"
Every time he struggled, the runes tightened, constricting like snakes, the pain cutting into his bones.
Satsujin's grin widened. "If you can free yourself before it hits zero…" He raised his glass. "…maybe you can still save the rest."
He leaned close across the table, whispering coldly,
"But I wouldn't count on it."
The timer blinked—
00:45
Markus screamed again, pure agony twisting his voice.
***
"Arnik!"
Aika's voice snapped him awake. His eyes flew open to smoke and fire. The sky burned orange-red—Mercury's upper shields collapsing, fragments raining like stars turned to ash.
He sat up fast, lungs tight. The air was thick with dust, the sound of distant screams cutting through the city.
Aika grabbed his arm, eyes wide and wet. "We have to run! Mercury's lost!"
He blinked hard, mind struggling to catch up. "What—what do you mean lost?"
Her grip trembled. "The defenses are gone! The Demon Machines broke through the main barrier! Markus is holding them off—alone!"
Before Arnik could speak, the ground shuddered violently. The roar of explosions rolled down the streets. Through the smoke, flashes of crimson lit the skyline—towering silhouettes lumbering forward.
Three… four… six-meter Demon Machines, each one crawling with glowing sigils and black cables. Their limbs dripped molten steel.
And there—Markus.
His coat was shredded, his fists cracked and bleeding as he slammed into one machine's chest. Sparks scattered. Metal screamed. Another machine swung its arm down—Markus caught it, teeth gritted, his body trembling under the sheer weight.
"GO!!" he roared over his shoulder. "ARNIK, AIKA—RUN!!"
Arnik froze for a moment, torn between instinct and loyalty. "I can't just leave you—"
"MOVE!!" Markus's voice cut through the chaos. "Don't waste what I'm buying you!"
Aika tugged at him, tears in her voice. "Please!"
Arnik clenched his teeth, then nodded. "Alright… come on!"
They ran.
Through streets of fire and twisted steel, past broken glass and fallen skyrails. The ground cracked beneath them, red light pouring from below like blood.
Then—
A shadow stepped into their path.
Satsujin.
He was wounded, blood streaming down his side, but his smile hadn't faded. The shadows around him rippled like liquid, the black mist rising from his blade.
"Well," he said softly, "look at that… two strays running from the slaughter."
Arnik's heart pounded, every muscle locking in place.
Markus's roar echoed behind them. "GO!!"
He charged the demon general from behind—
But Satsujin didn't even turn. His blade flicked once.
CRASH!
A shockwave split the ground, sending debris and flame in every direction.
Aika screamed. "Markus!!"
When the dust cleared, Markus was gone—buried under rubble, only silence where his voice had been.
Satsujin lowered his weapon, turning those crimson eyes toward them.
"Now," he murmured, "run."
They did.
Aika pulled him by the hand, both of them sprinting through the shattered streets, ducking collapsing buildings, dodging burning wreckage.
Arnik's lungs burned, his legs screaming, but they didn't stop until the Capital Building loomed ahead—its massive marble pillars cracked, its banners torn and burning.
The front gates opened.
"Inside—quickly!" Andrew's voice rang out from within, urgent and commanding. "Move, now!"
Aika stumbled through the doorway, dragging Arnik with her.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind them—
and everything went quiet.
Only the faint echo of his own heartbeat remained.
Arnik looked down at his trembling hands.
"…This isn't right."
"Why is everything…" Arnik's voice trembled as the silence grew. "Why is everything so quiet?"
The words barely left his lips before—
BOOM.
The great doors of the Capital burst open, slamming against the walls with a thunderclap.
Arnik flinched—his breath caught.
Dragged across the marble floor by an unseen force… was Markus.
Or what was left of him.
His body was mangled—armor shattered, blood smeared in long streaks behind him. His once-strong arms hung limply at his sides, his head tilted in an unnatural angle. His tail, torn and lifeless, trailed along the floor.
Arnik's world froze. "No…"
Behind the corpse, stepping through the broken doorway like a nightmare given flesh, was Satsujin.
He was drenched in blood—none of it his own. His shadowy blade pulsed faintly, dripping black mist onto the stone floor. The crimson light from the fires outside reflected across his half-masked face, illuminating the faint grin that never faded.
Andrew moved first.
With one motion of his hand, runes flared to life beneath his boots. The air shook from the sheer magic pressure.
"Out."
Satsujin's smile widened. "Still playing the hero, Handerfall?"
Andrew didn't answer—his eyes glowed blue, light bursting from his palms. A shockwave exploded through the hall, hurling Satsujin back through the doors and into the burning street beyond.
"Stay here!!" Andrew shouted, his voice echoing through the marble chamber. He leapt after the demon, sealing the doors behind him with a blast of light.
And then—silence again.
Only Arnik and Aika remained.
Arnik dropped to his knees beside Markus's body. His hands trembled as he reached out—his fingers brushing the cold, blood-stained fabric of his coat.
"Markus… I—" His throat closed up. "I should've been there. I'm the leader… I should've—"
He couldn't finish. His words dissolved into sobs. The sound echoed off the walls, raw and breaking.
Then, the world itself seemed to scream.
A deep mechanical hum filled the air—low at first, then rising, vibrating the very floor. The light from outside turned white, blinding.
A shadow passed over the skylight.
A battleship—massive, dark, floating directly above the Capital. Its underbelly opened, revealing a pulsing core of unstable energy.
Aika's eyes went wide. "Arnik—!"
She grabbed his arm and pulled him close, staff glowing furiously. The runes along its shaft ignited, her body trembling under the strain.
"Hold on!!"
The sky erupted.
KRAKOOM!!!
A blinding beam of energy descended, tearing through clouds, ripping through the Capital roof. The explosion consumed everything in white light.
Aika screamed, pouring every drop of her magic outward. A sphere of gravity and light enveloped them, rippling, cracking under the sheer power pressing down. The blast roared around them—stone disintegrated, walls melted, the air howled like a living storm.
Inside the barrier, Arnik clutched her hand, eyes wide, tears still streaking his face.
"…I should've protected him…" he whispered.
Aika's voice trembled . "Then protect what's left!"
The shield began to fracture—thin cracks of light spidering through it—
but it held.
For now.
***
Aika opened her eyes, the world around her silent and colorless, stretching endlessly in every direction beneath a sky that had no sun, no stars—only a dim, gray glow that bled into the horizon. Her hair drifted softly in the still air as if carried by a current that wasn't really there, and when she breathed, the sound was too soft, too hollow, like the air itself didn't want to move.
Her staff was gone.
Her hands—small, fragile, and trembling—looked like a child's.
"…Where am I?" she whispered, her voice vanishing as quickly as it left her lips.
The ground beneath her feet shimmered faintly, and every step she took left behind a glowing print that slowly faded back into the colorless grass, as if the world itself was erasing her presence with every move she made.
Then, from somewhere far away, a sound broke the silence.
Ding.
The sharp twist of metal.
The scream of tires against wet asphalt.
Her pulse spiked, her breath quickened, and before she could turn, the light changed—
The field melted away, replaced by a cold, rain-soaked street, the pavement slick and black beneath dim headlights that flickered in and out of focus. The air was heavy with the stench of gasoline and burnt rubber.
Her eyes widened. "No…"
Then came the sound.
CRASH.
She flinched as her knees hit the ground, the sound echoing endlessly in her ears. The car was there—crushed, broken, steam pouring from the shattered hood, glass scattered like ice across the road.
Aika stumbled forward, her steps uneven, her breath trembling. Through the fractured windshield she could see her father's face, his skin pale and his hair matted with blood. His arm hung out the window, his hand—so warm and strong once—now lifeless in the rain.
Her voice cracked. "Where… am I? Why am I seeing this?"
Her stomach twisted violently, and she nearly vomited, gripping the soaked pavement for balance. The memory of Satsujin flashed before her eyes—his laughter, his shadowy smile, the way he had worn her father's face—and the pain that followed made her chest seize. She didn't know what was real anymore. She didn't know what she remembered and what had been rewritten by that monster's magic.
"I don't… remember anything from that day," she whispered. "This place… everything around me—it feels so familiar… like I'm dre—"
"Aika."
Her entire body froze.
That voice—soft, distant—she hadn't heard it in years.
She turned, her eyes wide and glistening. "Mom…?"
Her mother stood a few steps away, her clothes soaked through, her hair clinging to her face in the rain. She looked almost exactly as she had that night, except for one thing—her presence felt hollow, like a ghost replaying a memory that had long since died.
Aika ran to her, tears streaming down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her. "Mom! What's going on? Where am I? It feels like I'm in a nightmare—"
But her mother didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't hug her back.
Aika froze, slowly pulling away, her breath unsteady as she looked up—and what she saw made her chest tighten.
Her mother's eyes were empty, drained of all color and light, nothing but pale gray glass staring back at her.
It was the same look she remembered after the accident—how her mother had stopped smiling, stopped talking, how sometimes she would cling to her in the night, crying into her shoulder, and other times she would look at her daughter like she was something she couldn't bear to see.
"…Why," her mother whispered.
"Mom?"
Her mother's lips trembled. Her voice came out in a low, shaking tone—half grief, half venom.
The words hit like a blade through Aika's chest. She stumbled back a step, rain stinging her face as the world seemed to tilt and warp around her.
Her mother's breathing quickened—slow, uneven at first, then rising into something feverish. She lifted her head, and the emptiness in her eyes cracked into something darker.
"Do you know what it's like," she hissed, her voice trembling with rage, "to wake up every day and see your face? To see the face of the one who lived when he didn't?"
Aika shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Mom, please… I—"
Her mother stepped closer, the sound of her bare feet splashing in the puddles between them. "Every time I looked at you," she said, her voice rising, "I saw him. I saw the man I loved crushed beneath that car. I saw his eyes looking back at me, begging me to save him, and all I could see was you."
"Stop…" Aika whispered, her voice small, breaking.
Her mother's hand shot out, grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look up. Rain ran down both of their faces like tears. "You smiled like him," she spat. "You laughed like him. You even said good morning like him—and I hated it. I hated you. Every breath you took was a reminder that he wasn't breathing anymore!"
Aika's knees buckled. Her hands clutched at her mother's wrists, but she couldn't pull away. The grip was too strong, too cold.
"I tried to love you," her mother said, her voice cracking into something that was almost a sob, "I tried to see my daughter again—but all I saw was the girl who survived when the better half of me didn't!"
Aika's sobs turned to gasps, her mind spinning. "I didn't want to live without him either!" she screamed, her voice raw, desperate.
Her mother only smiled—a bitter, broken curve of her lips. "Then why did you?"
Lightning flashed overhead. For a moment, the sky turned white, and the world froze in that single unbearable image—Aika on her knees, her mother looming over her, hatred twisting her face into something almost inhuman.
"You should've died with him," her mother whispered, her tone soft now, like a cruel lullaby. "That's what I think every time I close my eyes."
The words shattered something inside Aika.
She could feel it—the warmth draining from her chest, her heartbeat slowing, her breath trembling as if the air itself didn't want her anymore.
"…Mom," she choked, "please… stop…"
But her mother's eyes were already fading again, the gray consuming everything.
The street dissolved into shadow.
And Aika was left kneeling alone.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—she screamed.
A raw, broken sound tore from her throat, echoing through the empty streets. She clutched her head, shaking violently as sobs wracked her body. "STOP! STOP IT PLEASE!"
Her fingers dug into her hair, pulling until strands came loose. "I didn't want to live! I didn't want to live!"
The world spun. Her reflection stared back from a puddle at her knees—pale, trembling, eyes hollow. She slammed her fists into the water again and again until her knuckles split.
Her breaths came in short, choking gasps. "She's right… she's right…" she whispered. "I'm nothing… I'm useless… I should've died too…"
She fell forward, pressing her forehead to the cold, wet ground, the rain mixing with her tears until they were one and the same.
The gray around her flickered, bending like smoke. Her voice broke into a small, trembling whisper—almost a prayer.
"I wish… I never survived."
And as the echo of her words faded, the world around her went still—
Leaving Aika alone in the rain, trembling and broken, her scream still ringing in the silence that followed.
***
Aika and Arnik clawed their way out from under the rubble, coughing through the dust and smoke that filled the air. The world around them was nothing but ruin—fire licking at collapsed towers, streets split wide open, the faint cries of the dying echoing through what was left of Mercury's capital.
Aika's hands were trembling as she pushed aside chunks of debris, her staff cracked, glowing faintly with dying magic. Her breath hitched as she looked around—the sky was black, the ground still glowing red from the impact. She swallowed hard, trying not to let the tears fall.
"Arnik…" her voice cracked. "Wh-what do we do…?"
Arnik didn't answer.
He stood there—dust-covered, bruised, his armor damaged eyes hollow. The light that always burned behind them was gone. He looked at the destruction, at the city he swore to protect, and for the first time, he couldn't even pretend to know what to do.
His team… his friends… gone.
Markus, Kai, Rose, Aika—he had promised himself they'd all make it through. But here he was, surrounded by ashes, by death, by silence.
"I failed…" he muttered, voice low, broken. "I failed all of them."
"Arnik…"
He dropped to one knee, his fist slamming into the cracked earth. "I couldn't protect them. I couldn't even save Markus. What kind of leader am I if everyone I care about dies around me?"
Aika fell beside him, clutching his arm. "Don't say that—"
He looked at her, his eyes empty. "Then what am I supposed to say?!" he shouted. "Everything I fought for—everything I believed in—it's gone! I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore!"
Aika flinched, tears spilling freely now.
Arnik's voice softened, trembling. "…The only reason I'm still standing is because of you. If you're alive… then I still have a reason to fight."
Aika froze. Her throat tightened.
She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were wet, shining with both fear and defiance. "Arnik… please don't say that, okay? Don't let me be your reason."
He blinked, startled.
"You need to fight…" she said softly, her hand trembling against his cheek. "…not just for me. Not for anyone else. You need to fight for you. Because if you give up on yourself, everything you've done—everything we've lost—it won't mean anything."
Arnik stared at her, the words sinking in, shaking something loose in the numbness that had wrapped around his heart. He wanted to speak—to answer her—but the air around them shifted.
Aika gasped, her breath visible as the temperature dropped instantly.
The fire around them dimmed. The air itself seemed to bend, light warping as an aura unlike anything they had ever felt crept over the ruins.
A shadow fell across the cracked street.
A presence so immense it made the ground tremble—demonic energy pouring out like an ocean tide.
From the smoke ahead, something stepped forward.
A towering figure, his form wreathed in black mist that pulsed like living shadow. His eyes burned deep crimson, each step echoing with power. And in his right hand—held effortlessly by the hair—was a head.
Andrew Handerfall's.
The blood still dripped from the severed neck, splattering onto the ground with wet, hollow sounds.
Aika's breath hitched. "N-no…"
Arnik's body went cold. His voice barely left his throat. "…No. It can't be…"
The figure smiled beneath the darkness—a slow, terrible grin that spread across his face.
"Mercury falls," he said, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the shattered city like thunder. "And now… so will its hope."
The Demon Sovereign—Lord Lionel—had arrived.
Lionel smirked, the corners of his mouth curling with cruel amusement. He lifted a single finger—slowly, almost lazily—and the air beside him tore open like fabric ripping apart. From the swirling portal that bloomed out of the void, a gleaming spike of condensed magic shot forward faster than thought.
Arnik barely had time to turn his head.
SLICK!
THUNK!
The sound was wet, sharp, final.
Arnik's eyes widened—his breath stopped.
Aika stood in front of him, her back arched slightly, the tip of the spike buried deep in her chest.
For a second, she didn't move. She just looked at him—those soft, kind eyes trembling, lips parting as if to speak—but no words came out. The light from the fires around them danced across her pale face as the color began to drain away.
"Aika…"
Her knees buckled. The staff fell from her hand, clattering uselessly against the stone. Arnik caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her in his arms as the magic spike dissolved into smoke, leaving only blood.
She smiled faintly, one trembling hand brushing his cheek. "…Don't… lose yourself…"
Her breath shuddered—then stopped.
Arnik froze, staring down at her motionless face. The rain fell harder now, sizzling against the fires around them, washing the blood from his shaking hands.
"Aika…?" His voice broke. "Aika… please—"
No answer.
The scream that tore from him didn't sound human.
It was rage, grief, despair—every emotion crushed into one sound that shook the air around him. Magic exploded from his body, cracking the ground beneath his knees, his aura flaring wild and unstable. A blade of pure energy formed in his grasp, searing white with fury.
"LIONEL!!!"
He charged, the ground splitting under his steps, debris erupting behind him. His blade swung down, carrying all the pain, all the hate, all the loss of a man with nothing left to lose.
Lionel didn't even flinch.
He lifted his hand and flicked his wrist.
The force of it was like a hurricane.
Arnik's blade shattered on impact—his body hurled backward, smashing through walls and rubble. The shockwave carved a trench through the ground, scattering debris for hundreds of feet before he came to a stop, blood spilling from his mouth.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All he could see was Aika's body lying where she fell—still, small, surrounded by firelight.
Everything… was gone.
His team. His friends. His purpose.
Humanity had lost.
He lay there, staring up at the burning sky, rain mixing with blood as the world faded around him. His thoughts drifted—back to his mother's voice, the one thing that had always kept him moving forward.
"Arnik," she had said, weak but smiling from her bed, "the doctor told me I wouldn't last a week… but here I am. A month later." She'd laughed softly, her hand trembling as she squeezed his. "You know why I'm still here? Because I won't give up. There are people counting on me. And if I give up now… that's letting them all down."
Her voice lingered, clear as the rain.
"Even if I can't win… even if I die… the people I love will know I gave it my all."
Arnik's eyes trembled. His hand closed into a fist, blood running down his arm.
Aika's final words echoed next—
"Don't lose yourself… fight for what's left…"
His breath shuddered, chest heaving.
And in that moment—amid the ruin, the pain, and the fire—something deep inside him refused to die.
He slowly rose to his feet, every muscle screaming, his aura flaring like a flickering flame refusing to go out.
"…No," he whispered. "Not yet."
***
Ichigo's breathing turned ragged—shallow, broken gasps that filled the dead air. His trembling hand reached weakly toward Markus. "Big bro… it hurts…"
Then came the sound.
A faint crackle. A spark.
"…No…" Markus whispered.
Flames.
They crawled up Ichigo's arm like hungry serpents, orange and red devouring him inch by inch. His skin blistered, his screams echoing through the marble hall until they became nothing but choking gurgles. The smell of burning flesh filled the room.
"STOP IT!!" Markus howled, the veins in his neck bulging, every muscle straining against the chains.
Kaori screamed for her brother, her small voice breaking. "ICHIGO!! PLEASE!! MAKE IT STOP!!"
Their mother sobbed, clutching the edge of the table, her whole body trembling. "My boy… my sweet boy—"
Then her words faltered.
Her face went pale.
She turned her tear-streaked gaze to Markus. "Markus… I love y—"
SPAT!
A blade of shadow burst through her chest.
"Mom…?"
Her body twitched once, then fell limp, blood splattering across the table, staining Markus's face.
"NO!!"
Kaori's shrill cry tore through the silence, her hands shaking violently. "Mommy!! Mommy, please!!"
Markus's body convulsed. He yanked at the chains with everything he had, his muscles tearing, blood spraying as glowing runes seared his skin. He was close—so close—
Then a whisper came from behind him.
A voice that was his own.
"Are you really going to fall for something so stupid?"
Markus froze. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned his head.
Standing behind him—smiling with bloodstained teeth—was himself.
A darker version, soaked in crimson, eyes like dying embers.
"They're already dead," the bloody reflection said coldly. "You can't save what's gone."
Then, as suddenly as it appeared—
It vanished.
"Big brother!!" Kaori's voice snapped his attention back. She was crying uncontrollably, reaching toward him, shaking in terror. "Please!! Help me!!"
Markus's heart shattered. He knew what he had to do.
He gritted his teeth—pulled with everything left inside him—
CRACK!
The chains snapped from the chair.
But his arms didn't come with them.
He stumbled forward, blood pouring from the torn stumps at his shoulders, his body slick with pain. Still, he moved—crawling toward his sister, pulling her close, shielding her tiny body with what was left of his own.
He smiled weakly through the blood. "…I won't let you go… not again."
"Big brother…" Kaori's trembling voice softened.
Then her face twitched.
Her skin paled. Her lips split, peeling back into a grotesque smile. Her flesh turned gray and rotted, her empty eyes locking on him.
"B…Brother…"
Chains erupted from her arms—living, writhing things—wrapping around Markus's chest and stabbing deep into his body over and over.
SHUNK! SHUNK! SHUNK!
Blood sprayed across the floor as Markus coughed violently, his vision blurring.
"Kaori… I'm sorry…" he choked out, his voice breaking.
From across the table, Satsujin laughed.
The sound was sharp and cruel—high-pitched and gleeful. He slammed his hand against the table, wine spilling as he laughed harder. "Magnificent!! Look at you!! Fighting ghosts in your own mind—how beautifully pathetic!"
Markus collapsed backward, the life draining from his eyes.
His bloody reflection appeared beside him again, kneeling.
"What an idiot," it said quietly, almost pitying. "You deserve this… But maybe—just maybe—you'll learn something from it."
Markus's eyes fluttered shut.
The world went black.
Back in the real world, Markus's body twitched violently. He coughed up blood, his breathing stopped, his head falling limp to the side.
The demon girl watching from the shadows smirked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Her glowing eyes shimmered faintly as the candles flickered.
"One down…" she whispered, licking her lips. "Two more to go."
She giggled softly—
"…hehe…"
***
Lionel's boots cracked the scorched ground with every step, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm. His smirk was calm—mocking—as he raised one hand, summoning a blackened sword of condensed malice. The air warped around it, the sound of reality splitting under its edge.
He spoke softly. "So… the 'Leader of Angel Squad' still stands."
Arnik's breath came ragged, blood dripping down his chin. His hands shook—not from fear, but exhaustion. Even so, he lifted his plasma sword, its flickering light reflecting in his burning eyes.
Lionel tilted his head, almost amused. "You're trembling."
"I'm alive," Arnik spat.
The sword above Lionel's head came crashing down—an obsidian flash that split the air itself.
SZZZHHH-CRACK!
Arnik moved.
His plasma blade flared, fire and lightning twisting together into a single radiant arc. With one swing, he cut through Lionel's attack, the explosion of energy blinding. The shockwave tore through the ruins, sending ash and flame spiraling skyward.
Lionel stumbled back, his grin fading slightly. "…Interesting."
Arnik stood tall, blood soaking his torn uniform, his shoulders shaking under the weight of everything he'd lost—his squad, his home, his hope. Yet his eyes burned with something deeper than rage. Something unbreakable.
His mutation pulsed—one eye blazing with fire, the other sparking with lightning. Power crawled along his veins, weaving through the cracks in his armor, his blade shimmering with dual energy that screamed defiance against despair itself.
He took a step forward, his voice shaking but full of conviction.
"A hero doesn't get to choose what he fights for," he said. "He doesn't get to rest, or run, or give in. He fights… for the innocent. For those who can't."
Lionel chuckled darkly. "And what do you fight for now, boy? Your ghosts?"
Arnik's grip tightened on his sword, the plasma hissing as it burned brighter. "I fight for what's left."
He raised the blade, his aura flaring. "Lionel! If I lost everything a thousand times over—I would rise again! And again! And again! In the name of the Great Spirit…"
His voice rose like thunder.
"I will not allow your torment to continue!"
He charged—faster than sight.
Lionel swung, but Arnik was already past him.
A flash of fire—lightning—impact.
SHHHHK!
The plasma blade carved clean through Lionel's form, slicing shadow from flesh. The world erupted in light.
White. Endless. Silent.
Arnik blinked, his sword gone, his breath soft and uneven. "Where… am I?"
The void stretched around him—empty, yet peaceful.
Then, faintly… a voice.
The light of the void shimmered, folding inward until it took shape—fluid and undefined, a silhouette of shifting blue light. No face. No edges. Just motion, like the sky itself had tried to stand upright.
Arnik's voice came out hoarse. "Who… who are you?"
The being tilted its head, its form rippling with a deep, resonant hum that felt like wind passing through eternity. When it spoke, its voice was layered—many tones at once, both male and female, ancient and newborn.
"I am the one who creates… and the one who destroys," it said. "The breath that gives life… and the silence that ends it. I am the beginning… and the end."
Arnik's throat tightened. "…The Great Spirit."
"Names are mortal things," it replied softly. "But yes… that is what your kind has called me."
The figure's glow dimmed, almost as if it smiled. "I appear to you in this form because your body could not withstand my true one. Even this—" it gestured to itself, a hand made of light "—presses against the limits of your soul."
Arnik took a step closer, the glow brushing against his face like a warm current. "Why… are you here?"
"To warn you."
The void trembled faintly.
"The end is drawing near," it said, each word echoing deep inside his chest. "The end of this war… and the beginning of something far greater. When the final choice comes, your heart must not waver."
Arnik's fists clenched. "When? When will it happen?"
The Spirit's voice softened, fading. "It will reveal itself in time… Now, awaken."
The light shattered.
Arnik's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't in the void anymore—he was lying on cold stone, his vision spinning, the smell of blood sharp in the air. Something wet pressed against his shoulder. His mind took a moment to catch up—then pain tore through him.
He looked down—
A woman, pale-skinned, her body draped in torn, dark robes, crouched over him. Her teeth sank deep into his flesh, blood trailing down her chin. Her eyes—crimson, wild—snapped to meet his the moment he stirred.
She froze.
Then hissed.
SSHHHP!
In a single burst of energy, Arnik's hand ignited—his plasma sword forming in an instant. The blue light cast long shadows over her face as she recoiled, fangs dripping, eyes wide in shock.
Arnik's breath came heavy, his voice low and shaking with fury.
"Get. Off. Me."
Arnik moved fast—before the demon girl could twitch, his sword drove straight through her stomach. The steel burned with energy, the smell of scorched flesh filling the air as her scream tore through the ruins. Arnik's face stayed cold—he yanked the blade free and kicked her hard into the rubble. She hit a wall with a dull crack and collapsed, coughing blood, one hand clutching her wound.
Arnik turned at once. Aika and Markus lay motionless in the dirt, unmoving.
He stumbled toward them, dropping to his knees beside Aika first. "AIKA! AIKA, WAKE UP!" He shook her shoulders, desperate—no response. Her body was limp, her breathing shallow.
He turned next to Markus. "MARKUS!"
Nothing.
"MARKUS!!" Arnik grabbed his arm—cold, lifeless. No pulse. No breath.
"No… no, come on…" Arnik's voice cracked as he shook him harder.
He froze, staring at the still face of his friend.
Then—Markus's fingers twitched.
In the blackness of his mind, Markus stood alone. Endless dark. Silence.
A voice echoed from somewhere ahead—deep, guttural, familiar.
"Hurry up and wake up."
He turned.
A towering figure, blood-red eyes gleaming through the dark fog, the Blood Wolf stood over him.
"Your mind is weaker than I thought," it growled. "You should've seen through that dream."
Markus blinked. "…A dream?"
"Then wake up."
Light split the dark.
Markus gasped awake—lungs filling sharply as his body jolted upright.
Arnik turned fast. "Markus!"
Markus's chest heaved, sweat and blood clinging to his skin. Arnik's words came fast, panicked. "Aika isn't waking up!"
Markus looked to the side. The demon girl was still alive, hunched over, clutching her stomach, glaring through strands of blood-soaked hair.
Markus stood. Slowly. Calmly. Too calmly.
"Arnik," he said, voice low. "She's beaten. She'll die soon."
He started walking toward her.
The girl hissed weakly through bloodied teeth, spitting out a broken laugh. "You think you're some hero? You're nothing but a beast… pretending to be human…"
Markus's shadow fell over her. "And you're about to meet one."
He reached down, grabbed her by the throat, and lifted her off the ground.
She gagged, clawing at his arm. "P-please… stop—"
Markus's grip tightened. His eyes were empty, glowing faintly red beneath the flicker of firelight. He slammed her down, the impact echoing through the ruins.
"NEVER," he roared, voice breaking with fury. "NEVER SULLY MY FAMILY! LET THEM REST!"
He hit her again. And again. The ground cracked under the force. Her body jerked and twisted, every scream turning smaller, thinner.
She tried crawling away, dragging herself with trembling arms—but Markus caught her leg and yanked her back. He stomped down, bones snapping beneath his heel. She shrieked, voice torn raw.
He grabbed her hair, ripping a handful free. Blood streamed down her face as she screamed for mercy. "Please! Please, no more!"
Markus leaned in close, teeth bared, his voice trembling with hate. "You think mercy still exists for you? You mocked the dead. You made me suffer. You don't get mercy."
He smashed her face into the pavement once. Twice. The third time, the ground cracked.
Her body went limp.
Markus stood there, chest heaving, fists dripping blood—hers and his. His breathing came slow, heavy, like he was forcing air through a furnace.
Arnik watched in silence, eyes wide, saying nothing.
The demon girl's body twitched once. Then didn't move again.
Markus finally stepped back.
Markus looked different—like someone had flipped a switch. The exhaustion and grief drained from his face and left something cold and hard in its place. His jaw set; his eyes were narrowed into knives. He moved with a slow, patient violence now, as if every step was measured for one purpose: to end whatever ghosts still haunted him.
Arnik watched him and felt a chill. What did Markus see in that nightmare? What had broken and then rebuilt him into this? The question thudded in Arnik's head, unanswered.
Arnik's hands tightened around Aika. She was curled small against him, shaking—tears, raw and endless, trapped in a body that wanted to give up. He pressed a thumb to her knuckles and whispered, low and steady, "Aika—don't blame yourself. You're my pride. You're not alone."
***
Aika was curled into a ball, crying—scared to death, blaming herself for everything.
Then—someone's hand touched hers.
"Don't blame yourself… You're my pride and joy."
She opened her eyes and looked up. For a heartbeat she saw only Arnik.
"Arnik?" she whispered. "Thank goodness you're awake…"
Confusion wrenched through her. What happened? Who said those words? Tears blurred the edges of the world.
"Can you stand?" Arnik asked.
"Y—yes," she breathed.
"Good. Now we need to find Kai and Rose."
She nodded. Markus reached down and grabbed his katana—still sheathed—but his fingers were already steady on the hilt.
"We have no idea where they are," Arnik muttered.
A comm crackled to life. Andrew's voice screamed through the static. "ANGEL SQUAD, DO YOU READ?!"
"We read you!" Arnik answered.
"ARNIK? Is that you? What the hell happened—never mind. It doesn't matter. What matters is Rose and Kai—they're going to die. Hurry!" Andrew's voice was ragged. "I just sent their location"
They bolted.
Straight off—running fast through the streets, past smoking ruins.
"What's the situation?" Arnik panted.
"—They're facing Satsujin. Alone."
The three of them picked up the pace.