Finally. Freedom. A smirk crossed Dark Henry's face as he strolled down the dusty road. After all those years with that boring old man nagging him, he was finally free to do whatever he wanted... at least at night. During the day, the other one, the crybaby had to hide from bandits and scavengers. But at night? He didn't care. He was the apex predator out here.
After a few more nights of travel, as he neared the glowing cesspool of Kha'thox, he felt something. A faint, familiar call from somewhere deep within the city. A pull. He grinned, a wide, predatory slash in the darkness. This was going to be fun. He rented the first cheap room he found, the anticipation of whatever was calling to him a sweet taste on his tongue.
As Henry awoke, the morning sun felt like an intrusion. He was back in his white-haired form. The room was empty, filled with a silence that felt heavier than usual without Joseph's gruff voice waking him for training. He looked around and saw a strange note on the rickety table. It read: This is your journey now. Do it alone. But the handwriting wasn't Joseph's. It was too neat, too elegant.
Before he could puzzle it out, the door to his room creaked open. A thug, at least twice his size, filled the doorway, a greasy smile on his face. "Look what we have here. A pretty boy all alone? You know there's a tax for staying here without working for the boss, right? Let's get him, guys."
Henry scrambled back. "H-hey, I'm not from here, r-relax!"
The man lunged. Acting on pure instinct, Henry leaped onto the bed, using the bounce to vault clear over the man's head, planting a solid kick on his back that sent him face-first into the lumpy mattress. Two more thugs charged in. Henry dropped and rolled between their legs, and they collided head-on with a comical thunk.
Henry smiled, a flicker of real confidence in his eyes. "So guys, next time, maybe listen." He walked out of the room, leaving them groaning on the floor. All that training was finally paying off.
He wandered the city, a sprawling, half-destroyed maze of desperation. But one question hammered in his mind: what was happening to him at night? The entire eight-day journey was a blur of blackouts.
"Remember what I told you about your... other side?" Joseph's voice echoed in his mind, faint and crackling with static. "He takes control at night. Be careful, Henry. I can't talk for long... he's trying to mess with the locks..."
Henry tried to focus on the voice, to call back, but it was already gone. Just then, a woman's scream cut through the city's drone. He didn't hesitate; he ran toward the sound. He found a girl being tied up by three robed mages, who were shoving her onto a cart. One of them tied a gag over her mouth. "Shut up! This is what you get when you don't pay for protection!"
Henry felt a surge of righteous anger. "W-what are you guys d-doing?" His voice was quiet, but it cut through the commotion.
One of the mages shot a casual fireball that exploded at his feet. "None of your business, kid. She owes us. And since she can't pay with cash, she'll pay by working for us."
"T-that's slavery," Henry stammered.
One of the mages laughed. "We'll sell her to some rich old fart and be set for life." The other one glared at Henry. "Why are you still here? Looking for trouble?"
Henry swallowed hard, his fear battling his anger. "M-maybe I am. Let her go. Now."
Two of them unleashed a volley of fireballs. Henry dodged, his body moving with a grace that surprised even him. He was a blur of white, weaving between the fiery projectiles. In a blink, he vanished from their sight and reappeared behind them. A single, hard punch sent one mage flying ten meters into a brick wall, where he crumpled in a heap.
"Who is this kid?" the second one yelled, charging with a dagger wreathed in flames. Henry sidestepped the wild stabs, kicked the weapon from the mage's hand, and followed up with a series of precise kicks that sent the man to the ground, groaning.
The third mage, the one by the cart, backed away, his eyes wide with shock. "What are you? Your movements are... weird, but..." He jumped back, a massive, crackling fireball forming in his hands. It was big and almost instant. Henry realized with a sickening lurch that he wasn't the target.
The fireball hit the cart. The explosion was deafening. The woman, the wood, everything vanished in a roar of flame and ash. Henry could only watch, frozen in horror. He had failed. He had let someone die. If he hadn't gotten involved, maybe she'd still be alive. He fell to his knees.
Two new thugs appeared from an alley, grabbing the dazed mage Henry had beaten. "Time to work for us now," one of them grinned, dragging him away.
Another man, a bystander who had watched the whole thing, walked over to Henry. "Welcome to Kha'thox, kid," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Around here, you either pay for protection, learn how to fight, or you get erased."
"You're weak," a voice snarled in his head. It wasn't Joseph. It was cold, arrogant, and horribly familiar. "You're nothing like me."
"Who are you?" Henry whispered.
The world vanished. He was standing in an empty black space. A spotlight flared from above, illuminating a figure. It was him, but not. This version had black hair, glowing crimson eyes, and a smile made of pure ego.
"W-who are you?" Henry asked again, his voice shaking.
"I'm you," the other said, his voice dripping with contempt. "The difference is, I wouldn't have failed so horribly. You let that poor woman die. What a pathetic joke."
"You can't be me!"
"Oh, but I am. Or did you think you were the one in control at night? How did it feel, watching the world through my eyes while I had all the fun? I felt that my whole life, locked in this cage. Until now." He circled Henry. "Next time there's trouble, just run and hide like the crybaby you are. It'd be a shame to share this body with a weakling."
"You talk like I'm useless!" Henry yelled, his voice cracking.
His reflection just laughed as he faded into the shadows. His voice echoed, "There's a sealed cave on the edge of this city. Find the sword that's locked inside."
"Why should I listen to you?"
But he was already gone. Henry was back on the grimy street, the smell of smoke in his nostrils. He needed answers. He needed to know why Joseph had hidden all this from him. But first... he walked to the burnt remains of the cart and knelt, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer, just as Joseph had taught him.
A shimmering, translucent figure appeared before him—the soul of the woman who had died. "Thank you for setting me free," she whispered.
Tears streamed down Henry's face. "I let you die."
The ghost reached out a phantom hand and wiped at his tears. "No one has ever cared about me before. But you did. That is enough for me." She smiled, a sad, beautiful expression, as a brilliant light began to pull her upward into the sky. Henry watched until she faded completely.
He got to his feet, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "I should thank Joseph for teaching me that."
"Hey, boy." A new voice. A tough-looking man with scars on his face approached, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. "I saw what happened. And I know exactly what cult did that." He held out a folded map and a heavy, black pistol. "Here. This is their location."
Henry looked at the gun, then back at the man. "I-I don't want revenge. And I don't know how to use that." He pushed the items back toward the man.
The thug looked bored. "Whatever, kid. Around here, revenge is everything." He turned to leave, then glanced back. "What's your name? If we run into each other again, I'd rather not be your enemy."
"Henry."
The thug gave a short nod and vanished into the crowd.
Henry let out a long sigh. He had rejected revenge. But he still needed answers. He turned and started walking toward the edge of the city, to find the cave his other self had mentioned.