Half an hour had passed, the time slipping away slowly, dissolving into the depths of indifference. In the heart of nature, where only trembling feet touched the earth, a vast lake gazed at a massive waterfall pouring down from the river, sending forth its waters as if weaving time itself. Seraph lay there, adrift on the water's surface, enveloped in a tranquility that did not reflect reality. The cold air brushed against his wet skin, and with every breath, he felt his torment deepen.
He regained consciousness slowly, his body weighed down by pain too immense to comprehend. Struggling, he swallowed the water that had flooded his lungs, gasping for air as he coughed it out. His vision was blurry, unfocused, until he lifted his head, covered in sand, brushing it off as if trying to erase the devastating memories from his heart. Then, as though fantasy had finally abandoned him, he looked around.
Towering trees surrounded him, and the horizon was painted with vibrant colors that did not match the agony within him. The rivers flowed nearby, vanishing into the earth as if washing away everything in their path. Yet his mind was elsewhere, lost in a different place, in the moment Luna had been. His heart was not here; it was trapped in that dark scene.
But at that moment, he felt something unusual... like a shadow standing before him. His heart shattered in an instant, bracing for the worst. He lifted his gaze to see Five standing there. Five looked anything but normal, his breath labored, his face pale, his body trembling as if he had escaped from something. His fists were clenched in an eerie way, as if the entire world had converged into this single moment.
Seraph stared at Five with weary eyes, and then a strange feeling crept into his mind... something that forced him to fear what was coming. Five didn't speak, but his eyes were empty, containing nothing but a vast void of sorrow and rage.
Then, in a fleeting instant, as if time had frozen, Five threw a powerful punch at Seraph's face. The blow was like an arrow, and tears welled in Five's eyes before his fist even made contact. Seraph was hurled backward, his head striking the sand, as if this earth could not absorb the weight of all he felt.
Five did not step back. He lunged forward, grabbed Seraph's head, and lifted his face again. Then, as if words had become as heavy as mountains, he struck him again. Then a third time… but this time, Seraph did not resist. He had no strength left to do so. His hand caught Five's, the one clenched like a shackle around his heart. He looked up at him, and what he saw was not fury alone.... Five's eyes were filled with tears, overflowing with sorrow, and rippling with waves of anguish. His gaze was hollow, yet desperate for an answer, as if everything was collapsing around them.
Five: "Why…"
The words were broken, nothing but a strangled question escaping from him.
Seraph did not respond. He simply stared into Five's eyes, as if words would betray everything inside him. But Five didn't wait. He screamed from the depths of his heart, his voice brimming with despair, with an unbearable sorrow.
At that moment, everything turned into a fiery chaos, a muted agony, as if the entire world had flipped upside down.
Five's voice rose, his words pouring from his soul, burdened with pain and regret, directed at Seraph, who sat there, unmoving, hesitating to take in all that was happening.
Five, his voice trembling with rage: "Why did you let her die, you damn bastard!!!"
Seraph's breath caught, and for a moment, time stopped. That voice, soaked in agony, was like thunder splitting the sky. Five's tears fell in torrents, as if his heart was weeping out the last remnants of his life. His face was laden with an indescribable grief, a sorrow that flowed from his eyes as though all the suffering he had endured had culminated in this single moment.
Then, in a fit of madness, Five let go and staggered back, clutching his head, as if trying to hold together a mind that was unraveling. He dropped to his knees, the echoes of his inner collapse reverberating through his thoughts, as though he were being suffocated by contradictions.
It was as if his heart had been torn apart, his clashing emotions raging inside him like warring armies with no escape.
Five: "No!!... How did I let everything fall apart before my eyes without doing anything?!!!"
He screamed, but the sound that escaped him wasn't just a cry of anger... it was a complete storm erupting from the depths of his being. It carried with it an unforgivable guilt, an unbearable sense of failure. It was as if he was condemning himself for every moment lost, every chance wasted to change something, every mistake he had made as he watched the end approach without lifting a finger.
But deep inside, there was something else… something darker, something akin to vengeance, entangled with the helplessness and weakness that had haunted him his entire life. Could he have changed anything? Did he have the power to alter her fate? Those questions spun through his mind like a relentless vortex, without mercy.
What tormented him the most was the realization that he had always turned his back on pain, silently following the trail of crime... until the day he found himself drowning in guilt, utterly hopeless.
His eyes were empty, yet they carried something far darker. They weren't just void of life; they were void of hope, reflecting the emptiness left behind by tragedy, the presence that had slowly faded into nothingness. And in that moment, Five knew... he had killed the possibility before it was even born. He had made the world what it was now: meaningless.
In those moments, he felt as though the weight of the entire world had settled upon his chest, as if life itself had become nothing more than an unending sequence of failures, with no savior in sight.
Five was in a state of hysteria, screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice mirroring the unbearable turmoil within. His eyes were brimming with tears and confusion, leaving no space for reason or logic... only a colossal chaos of agony, disappointment, and betrayal.
Five: "No… No!!!…"
His voice wavered, his words collapsing into the air, spilling from his lips like a shattered cry. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale, his arms trembling as though he were facing a monster from which there was no escape.
Five: "Why did you do this?!"
There was something in his voice that went beyond pain… an unexplainable fury, a confusion so deep that he could not accept the reality he lived in.
Five: "How dare you deceive me... Luna?! How dare you push me into this destruction?! We made a vow!!!…"
The words tumbled from his mouth like sharp blades, cutting through the air around him. Five was trying to grasp the reality he had become trapped in.
Every fiber of his being was unraveling, torn between denial and truth, between love and betrayal, between emotion and regret. His mind was in utter disarray, his heart torn between the feeling of being deceived and the shock that would not end.
Five: "I thought I had changed, that I had become stronger than before… that I could fix this cursed world…"
He whispered to himself, then closed his eyes, as if shutting them would rid him of something greater than pain... to escape from the weight that only grew heavier with each passing moment.
The words swirled in his heart, cascading like a river of agony, but there was no answer to them.
At that moment, Seraph's body trembled, his eyes shadowed with a darkness of sorrow, but his lips remained pressed shut. He did not appear as someone who had been accused, but as someone who had been stabbed straight through the chest. His fist clenched the sand between his trembling fingers before he slowly let it slip away, as if releasing his shattered soul into its grains.
Seraph, gritting his teeth, his voice a quiet rumble from the heart of a storm: "Do you think you're the only one…"
Five stopped screaming, as if the words had sliced through him like a rusted dagger. His breath was unsteady, his heart pounding wildly, but his gaze lifted slowly toward Seraph, caught between anger and uncertainty.
Seraph, staring into Five's tormented eyes: "Do you think you're the only one who grieves for her?!"
A heavy silence fell between them, as if the earth had swallowed their voices. The wind howled, lifting grains of sand around their feet, as though nature itself had paused to witness the confrontation of two shattered souls.
Seraph, his voice sharp with buried anguish: "Do you think you're the only one who lost her?! The only one drowning in guilt?! The only one being devoured by emptiness?!!"
Something cracked inside Five, but his anger still held its grip. He clenched his jaw, averted his gaze, refusing to acknowledge anything beyond his own pain.
Seraph, lowering his head for a moment before looking back up, his eyes filled with raw torment: "You scream because you lost her… and I stay silent because I failed to save her. What's the difference between us?!!"
Five freezes, the words pierce his anger like knives. He opens his mouth but finds nothing to say. His eyes tremble, as if for the first time, he realizes that grief is not an individual privilege.
Seraph, laughing with a bitterness steeped in sorrow, his voice trembling: "Tell me, what is grief supposed to be? Is it measured by the number of screams? Or by the nights I'll spend staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep?!"
Five clenches his fists, tears welling up in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, refuses to acknowledge something deeper than his anger.
Five, in a shaky whisper: "But I... I couldn't do anything..."
Seraph cuts him off, his tone dropping like a blade: "Neither could I!!!"
The echo of his words lingers in the air, wrapping them in suffocating silence. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of the wind. Five's hands loosen, his body swaying slightly backward. He had thought that his anger gave him the sole right to grieve, but now he understood... pain was not a privilege to be hoarded... it was a curse shared by all.
And in that moment, memories of his childhood resurfaced... memories of Luna, where love and hope still shimmered in her eyes, where she laughed despite the pain and whispered to him that life was worth fighting for, even in its darkest hours.
Five remained kneeling for a while, his body exhausted, his mind drowning in the whirlpool of memories, but something inside him refused to surrender. He took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs, then pushed himself to his feet, despite the crushing weight of his sorrow.
He stood there, silent, his gaze drifting across the horizon. The world around him was eerily still, as if waiting for his decision. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, the wind carrying the scent of damp earth and scorched metal, as if the very world was mourning alongside him.
But Five wasn't looking at the destruction... he was looking at what remained despite the loss. He remembered Luna's laughter, that light that never faded even in the darkest moments, how she found hope where there was nothing but emptiness. He remembered her words, that fragile promise she had held onto despite everything.
"I trust that you'll do it... Five."
He knew, with painful certainty, that this moment would not be the last, that there would be consequences to bear, and that the pain he felt now was merely the beginning of a greater trial. But despite everything, he was determined to endure... to fight to reclaim what was lost... to create change, even if it cost him everything.
His fists tightened. There was no room for regret anymore. No time for breaking. The world was drowning in darkness, but he would not let her sacrifice be in vain. He would not let her become just another fading memory.
He lifted his head, his eyes now carrying a newfound resolve. Then, without hesitation, he began to move forward. He was not walking toward the unknown... he was walking toward a purpose, toward a new vow he made to himself:
Five: "I will fix this world… no matter the cost."
Five's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, his hand slowly rising to touch the right side of his face, where the pain had latched onto his bones as if it were branded there forever. His fingers traced the burned skin, feeling the rough texture that hadn't been there just moments ago. His vision was blurred, a haze of light and shadow, as if the world had suddenly lost half of its clarity.
He swayed on his feet, barely able to stand, but his expression remained unchanged… he didn't look angry, not even upset. Just silence, as if nothing had happened.
A few steps away, Seraf stood, His eyes caught Five's for a moment, then he looked away. His voice was faint, nothing more than a whisper lost in the air.
Seraf: "I apologize for the wound..."
But Five didn't respond. He didn't even move. He simply ran his hand over the wound with water, attempting to wash away the sand that had mixed with the injury. Then, he lowered his hand from his face, tore a piece of his shirt, and tied it tightly around the burn. Without a word, he continued walking in silence, as if nothing had been burned, as if nothing had happened.
Five looked at Seraph, his eyes filled with determination, his voice quiet but charged with something deeper than anger.
Five: "We have to go."
Seraph frowned, suspicion creeping into his tone as he stared at him.
Seraph: "Where?"
The question lingered in the air for a moment before Five answered without hesitation, his eyes shining with newfound clarity... like a man who had been searching for his path and had finally found it.
Five: "We only have four days. The White Museum will open."
Seraph scowled for a moment, He raised an eyebrow and said in a low but serious tone.
Seraph: "The White Museum? What the hell does that have to do with us!?"
Five: "James Howard is the one opening it."
A heavy silence fell between them. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the wind passing through the alleys, carrying whispers of blood and pain.
Seraph's eyes narrowed, flashing coldly before he exhaled impatiently and stood up abruptly, his body tense as if shackled by invisible chains. He turned away from Five violently, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Seraph: "I have no time for pointless nonsense! While you waste time on museums, I'll do what needs to be done."
Five turned to him, already knowing what he was about to say before the words left his mouth.
Seraph: "I'm going to kill Romanov."
He said it with a weight of finality, his hands clenched into fists, trembling with restrained fury.
After the sharp words faded, only the charged silence remained. Their eyes held more than words could express... the burden of loss, the bitterness of helplessness, and a rage that had nowhere to go except into promises of revenge.
Five, his voice low but steady: "If you want to kill Romanov, do it. But not now. Not before we cut off the head of the snake."
Seraph furrowed his brows, his voice brimming with anger.
Seraph: "Don't try to manipulate me. You know I don't need your permission."
Five met his gaze with a quiet but burning intensity.
Five: "But you need a purpose, Seraph. Romanov is just a pawn. James Howard is the one moving the entire board. Kill the king, and the pawn means nothing."
Seraph froze mid-step, as if Five's words had caught him before he could walk away.
Five, his voice a storm beneath the surface: "James Howard... he's the reason for all of this."
Seraph turned slowly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, but Five gave him no time to doubt.
For a moment, he was silent. Then he continued, every word dropping like a stone into a sea of fury.
Five: "He's the reason for your suffering, for Luna's suffering, for the suffering of every child in those labs. He is the National Security Advisor... the man whispering into President Jack Connor's ear, planting ideas like a slow poison, proposing projects, drafting plans, signing decisions that made us what we are today."
Seraph's jaw tightened, his breathing deepening, as if trying to absorb the weight of a truth he had never considered. His eyes flickered with an internal war, like walls of certainty crumbling brick by brick.
For a moment, Seraph hesitated. He hated the idea of being guided, but he couldn't deny Five's logic. The world wasn't a place for reckless revenge; it was a chessboard where every wrong move could mean the end of everything.
He turned his face away for a second, as if trying to convince himself this wasn't just another trap, that Five wasn't playing with his already burning emotions. His fingers curled and uncurled, the air between them charged with something intangible... a mixture of caution and reluctant trust.
Seraph, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade: "If what you're saying is true… then when? Where?"
Five reached into his pocket, pulling out a small electronic card, tossing it to Seraph. He caught it effortlessly, his eyes narrowing as he examined it.
Five: "In four days, the White Museum will open. There will be dozens of officials, journalists, and security forces. That means James Howard won't just be protected... he'll be surrounded by the entire world. Assassinating him there isn't just a risk… it's suicide."
In the frozen air, where the wind howled between crumbling buildings, there was nothing but its sound and their shallow breaths. Between Five and Seraph, silence was sharper than any words, as if they stood on the edge of something irreversible.
Five remained standing, watching Seraph, while the latter took a step back, his gaze filled with hesitation laced with fury.
Seraph, his tone caught between sarcasm and bitterness: "And how exactly do we just walk in and kill him when we know it's suicide!? And also… are you seriously trying to tell me you're okay with me killing him?"
Five met his gaze unwaveringly, unblinking, unmoving, letting the wind carry his words with their full weight.
Five, his voice quiet but final: "I planned this mission three days before I came here. I already have the access cards we'll need. What I need from you… is to clear the path, to make sure everything is in place."
Five's words wrapped around Seraph's mind like chains, logic warring against every instinct telling him not to trust, to see this as just another game in a world built on deception. But anger… anger was a beast clawing at his insides, and there was no one more deserving of its wrath than James Howard.
Seraph clenched his fists, his thoughts colliding violently. He had a thousand ways to respond, but neither of them spoke. There was only the sound of the wind between them and the distant glow of city lights casting long, stretching shadows.
Then, slowly, Five extended his hand.
Seraph hesitated, staring at it for a moment. Then, without a word, he reached out and shook it.
In that moment, this wasn't a pact between friends.
It was a vow between two men walking a path from which there was no return.
At that moment, the dim light slowly returned, filling his eyes once more. The gray ceiling of his room came into focus, its features becoming clearer... but he didn't truly feel present. His body lay still, yet he was trapped elsewhere, somewhere far away… where the flames had yet to die down, where Five's voice still echoed in his memory like an unceasing pulse.
He blinked twice, then took a deep breath... but it was not the breath of a living man. It was more like the desperate gasp of someone who had just surfaced from the depths of an ocean that had nearly drowned him.
Slowly, he lifted his hand, gazing at his trembling fingers under the faint glow of the room's light, as if to confirm that he was still here… in this world.
But the truth was clear... clearer than he wanted to admit.
All of this… was just a memory.
Hours earlier.
As Five stood at the edge of the rooftop, his eyes ablaze with fury and grief, the world before him twisted into a nightmare from which there was no escape.
The city below was bathed in cold neon lights, as lively and deafening as ever, utterly indifferent to the agony bleeding out upon its rooftops. The wind howled viciously, carrying with it scraps of torn paper and shattered billboards, as if it, too, was participating in the chaos consuming everything. And there, atop one of the tallest buildings, Five stood... his body rigid, his hands trembling beyond his control.
His gaze was fixed downward, toward the fractured world beneath his feet. It wasn't just a view of the city... it was a glimpse of what remained of a life that no longer held any meaning.
He raised his head slowly, his breaths ragged, his eyes glistening under the city's dim glow. When he finally spoke, his voice tore from his lips like a scream that threatened to shatter his very soul before it could break the silence of the night.
Five, screaming at the top of his lungs: "Father!"
The echoes of his cry trembled between the towering buildings, seeping through the streets, as if announcing the end of something that could never be mended.
The wind lashed against his face, its icy bite tearing through him, but he didn't care. He was speaking to someone he could no longer see as he once did.
Five, his voice quivering... yet still carrying one last, shattered plea: "Please… stop what you're doing..."
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging within him.
Five, in a whisper that carried more weight than any scream... as if condensing his entire existence into a single sentence: "For me... and for my mother..."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world... where no wind could reach, where no sun would rise... Professor Zero sat alone in his darkened laboratory, surrounded by glass and machines that hummed faintly.
The live broadcast flickered on the screen before him, displaying Five standing on the rooftop, his voice filling the air, his eyes ablaze with sorrow and rage.
When Five began to scream... when those words tore from the depths of his shattered heart..
"Father…"
"please..."
"from me..."
"and from my mother..."
the echo lingered in the air, as if time itself had momentarily stopped.
Something strange clenched at Zero's heart. His chest heaved violently, as though his heartbeat had lost all sense of rhythm, as though those words had ripped through the barriers of time... dragging him back to a place and moment he had long forgotten.
This was the voice he had been waiting for. The voice that had been missing for so many years.
He stepped closer to the screen, his eyes widening in fear and confusion, as though reality itself was beginning to unravel before him. His thoughts clashed, emotions of pain, regret, love, and loss waging war inside his chest.
Then, in an instant, Zero collapsed to the ground. His body trembled violently, as if the entire world had suddenly crumbled around him. His voice, barely a whisper, escaped his lips, struggling to grasp the weight of what he had just heard. The words themselves were heavy... so heavy they dragged themselves out of his shattered heart with agonizing difficulty.
Zero, his voice strangled by grief: "...My son..."
He froze in place, his gaze locked onto the image on the screen... the image of Five, standing beside his mother, Mary.
The overwhelming loss he had endured for so long came crashing down upon him with an unbearable force, shaking his very existence.
But the shock… was not the end.
No... this was only the beginning of his collapse.
His fingers gripped the edge of the table, his body convulsing, and then… the madness began. A broken laugh spilled from his lips, yet it was not a laugh at all... it was something far worse.
It was the sound of a mind unraveling, disintegrating in a way he could no longer stop.
Everything blurred... memories of his wife, his son, the lab, the experiments, the decisions he had made, the sins that had accumulated upon his soul until they became unbearably heavy.
Then… silence.
And...
The entire laboratory was ablaze.
Flames devoured everything mercilessly, as though erasing sins too great to be forgiven. Thick black smoke spiraled into the sky, mingling with the screams of children as they fled from the inferno.
They ran... scattering in all directions, their small feet carrying them away from the place that had been their prison for years.
Military police and security forces stormed the site, following President Norman's orders. They rescued every last one of them. But when they arrived, all they found were the remnants of what had once been an advanced research facility.
At that moment, as news channels broadcasted the unfolding catastrophe, Seraph sat in his darkened room, illuminated only by the flickering screen before him. His eyes were wide, staring in shock at the images unfolding... at the laboratory, the nation's most crucial research center, engulfed in flames. Smoke billowed into the sky, a silent, suffocating scream.
His eyelids twitched, his breaths uneven, as though the air itself had become too thick to inhale. He tried to lift his hand to switch off the television, but his fingers froze midair... as if his mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing.
Seraph, his voice barely above a whisper, strangled in his throat: "Impossible… Is this… Is this what he meant? Is this what he was aiming for?"
The reflection of the fire flickered in his irises, as though the flames themselves had seeped into him, burning from within. His own words echoed in his mind as the inferno continued consuming everything before him.
Seraph: "To fix everything in this country…?"
His fingers trembled, his fists clenched unconsciously. A sharp pain pricked at his chest, as though his heart had caved under the weight of reality.
Seconds passed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes... but they did not fall.
They remained suspended, just like him... caught between understanding and denial, between rage and helplessness, between believing in something… and fearing that he had lost all faith.
But deep within the heart of the inferno, where the flames roared like starving beasts, Professor Zero remained seated.
In his hand… a single, old photograph. Faded, worn... holding the remnants of a life that no longer existed. A picture of his wife and son. The only thing left unburned.
His fingers gripped it tightly, as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
His eyes... once filled with arrogance, knowledge, and madness... were now empty. Completely empty.
Then, a single tear.
Just one.
But it was not a tear of regret.
It was the tear of a man who had realized the truth too late. Far, far too late.
And as the flames consumed everything around him, he did not move. He did not try to escape.
There was no point in running anymore.
His final breath was not a scream.
It was a whisper... lost within the fire's unrelenting wrath.
The fire was no longer just flames.
It was the embodiment of irreversible destruction.
And Number Zero was gone... buried beneath the ashes, unseen by all but those who had been there.