The room smelled like burned metal and blood.
Michael stood in the center of the arena, flames still flickering on his arms. Around him lay the bodies of his final opponents — charred, motionless. His chest heaved with exhaustion, and smoke curled from his fingertips.
> "That's twenty. Your quota's done," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
The overhead lights shut off.
A door opened with a hiss. Two guards escorted him down a long corridor until he reached a familiar door — the room where it had all begun.
---
Inside, the man in the black mask waited. The same dim red light glowed above them, just like that first night.
Michael stepped forward, fire still crackling faintly from his skin.
> "It's done," he said. "Every mission. Every person you wanted gone. My quota's finished. Now leave me and Emily alone."
The man leaned back in his chair, silent for a moment. Then a low chuckle escaped his mask.
> "You've done well, Michael. Better than I ever expected. You get things done. You kill clean, fast, efficient. You're a weapon that works."
Michael's fists clenched.
> "That wasn't the deal."
The masked man tilted his head.
> "Deals change."
Michael's jaw tightened, flames rising along his arms. "What do you mean deals change? You said—"
> "I said I'd keep Emily safe. And I will. But I never said I'd let you go."
Michael's eyes widened, rage flaring across his face.
> "You said a quota. You gave me a number. I did it! Now leave us alone!"
He raised his hand and fired a fireball straight at the masked man, the explosion lighting the room like a second sun. But the man dodged, sliding to the side with inhuman speed. The blast scorched the wall behind him, leaving a crater of melted steel.
The masked man straightened, brushing dust off his shoulder.
> "I knew you wouldn't like that answer," he said calmly. "That's why I have to do this."
Before Michael could react, the man pulled out a small device — a needle-like dart launcher. He fired.
The dart struck Michael in the neck.
Michael ripped it out instantly, but it was too late — wires began spreading beneath his skin, slithering toward his skull.
He screamed, clutching his head as sparks shot from his fingertips.
> "What… what did you do to me?!"
> "I'm making sure you stay useful," the masked man said. "You're too valuable to waste on freedom."
Michael fell to his knees, gripping his head as his vision blurred. He could feel metal rods digging into his brain, wrapping around his thoughts. He tried to burn it out — flames erupted from his body — but the chip pulsed, releasing electric shocks that froze his limbs.
He screamed again, voice cracking. His eyes turned red, then white-hot, flickering like firelight.
Inside his mind, everything went silent.
> "No…" he whispered weakly. "Emily… run…"
Then the light in his eyes dimmed. His breathing slowed.
He stood up, blank-faced, flames curling steadily around his arms — but there was no emotion behind them now. No anger. No pain. Just programming.
The masked man stepped closer, admiring his work.
> "Perfect. The King of Wrath... reborn."
He turned and walked away, leaving Michael standing in the smoke — body trembling, mind gone.
In the reflection of the glass wall, his face was calm…
but inside his head, the last piece of him was screaming, trapped in the fire forever.
The masked man leaned close, voice a low hiss that cut through the ringing in Michael's ears. Sparks danced along the edges of the wound in his neck as he tried to pull his thoughts back together.
"Young man," the mask said, almost gently. "Before everything went black, you agreed. Now — you're going to fight someone I want dead. Because of Jack. Go kill him, Michael."
Heat flared in Michael's chest, a reflexive surge of flame answering the command. He staggered, one hand clawing at the base of his skull where the wires burrowed. For a terrible, bright second the part of him that was still Michael fought — memories snapping into place: Emily's laugh, Jack's stupid grin, the old man in the woods telling him about steam and rain. He opened his mouth to refuse, to scream, to fight the voice inside his head.
All that came out was a broken sound, a shaky whisper: "No— I won't—"
The chip pulsed. Pain lanced through him like ice and fire together. His knees buckled. The fight left him like smoke.
He forced a breath. The words that followed were hollow, but they were enough. "Y-yes," he croaked. The last shred of resistance slipped away as if someone had blown it out. He rose, movements smooth and mechanical now, the flames around his arms steadier than his heartbeat.
Michael walked out of the room with his head down, eyes glazed but burning faintly red. Behind the observation glass, the masked man watched him go, satisfaction flat and cold in his posture. Down the corridor Michael moved — a weapon with a memory — and somewhere ahead, the name he'd been given to kill waited, and Jack's shadow loomed closer with every step.
The air in the arena was thick with silence.
Jack stepped through the gate, expecting another fight — another normal match for rank points. He rolled his shoulders, his heartbeat calm, steady.
But as the smoke cleared from the other side of the arena… his heart stopped.
Standing there, half-covered in shadow, was Michael.
Jack's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened as tears began to form.
> "M-Michael… is that really you?" Jack whispered, his voice trembling.
"I can't believe it. It's you!"
He took a few hesitant steps forward, tears glinting in the arena light.
"I thought you were gone. I thought they killed you. I—I missed you, man. You lived. How… how have you been?"
For a moment, Michael didn't move. His body was rigid, trembling slightly — like something inside him was trying to break free. Then, slowly, his right arm lifted… and pointed forward.
Jack frowned.
> "Michael? What are you doing—?"
A fireball burst from Michael's palm, screaming through the air toward him. Jack barely dodged as the blast scorched the ground behind him.
Jack's heart shattered.
> "You're… you're not here to talk, are you?"
Michael said nothing. His head twitched, his movements jerky, flames flickering violently from his skin.
Jack clenched his fists. "Then I have no choice."
---
Vines burst from the ground around Jack, swirling like green whips. He threw his hands forward — a surge of vines shot toward Michael, wrapping around his body and arms.
But Michael roared, flames erupting from his chest. He inhaled deeply and unleashed Dragon's Breath, a blazing torrent of fire that cut through the vines like paper, turning the air into a wall of heat.
Jack shielded himself, sweat dripping from his face. "You're stronger… way stronger…"
He dropped to one knee and pressed his hand into the ground.
> "Then I'll show you what I've learned."
Thick vines erupted everywhere, wrapping around the building's walls, piercing through the floor, and spiraling around Michael like snakes. They coiled tighter and tighter, pinning him in place.
> "Garden of Flowers and Vines!" Jack shouted, forcing his power deeper into the earth.
Michael thrashed, his flames struggling against the living cage.
Then Jack closed his eyes. "Switch… to drowned vines."
The vines around Michael darkened — water began to flow through them, turning them slick and heavy. The air filled with steam as Michael's fire hissed and sputtered.
Jack stepped forward, tears in his eyes.
> "I'm sorry, Michael. But if I don't kill you… I'll die instead."
He looked down, voice breaking.
"Please… forgive me."
Inside his mind, trapped behind the metal and control, the real Michael screamed through the noise. For just a second, he broke through. His lips trembled, voice weak and human.
> "Please… kill me, Jack. Keep Emily safe."
Jack froze, eyes wide.
"Michael…"
---
Up above, behind a black mirrored window, the masked man watched in silence. His posture was cold, irritated.
> "Pathetic," he muttered, and pressed a small red button on his console.
"Kill Mode — active."
---
Michael's body convulsed violently. His veins lit up with red light, and his temperature skyrocketed. The water in the vines hissed into steam — then the vines ignited, burning into ash.
A blast of heat exploded outward, sending Jack flying across the arena.
He hit the ground hard, coughing, his body smoking. He slammed his palms down, and vines shot from the ground, anchoring him in place to keep from being thrown again.
Michael screamed, voice distorted and monstrous.
> "I will kill everyone who stands in the way of the King of Wrath!"
He launched himself forward, flames propelling him like a rocket. He grabbed Jack by the chest, and in one breath, triggered Fire Explosion — his body producing a massive burst of sweat, igniting all at once.
The arena filled with a deafening blast.
Jack was thrown backward, body seared and bleeding.
Panting, Jack forced his shaking hands together.
> "Then… I'll stop you… even if it kills me."
He summoned a small fleshy sack, a grotesque egg that pulsed in his hand.
> "Blood Burst!"
He hurled it forward — it exploded, splattering red mist across Michael's body. The energy disrupted Michael's control, making his flames falter for a few seconds.
Jack saw his chance. He pressed his palm to the ground.
> "Vine Spring… Punch!"
The vines under him coiled tight, then released — launching Jack forward like a slingshot. He struck Michael square in the chest, the impact sending Michael flying across the arena, flames scattering like falling stars.
---
Michael lay on the ground, smoking, his body twitching.
Inside, the real him screamed silently, trapped behind the machine that had stolen his will.
Jack stood in the smoke, shaking, his hands trembling.
He didn't know if his best friend was still alive in there…
or if the King of Wrath had taken him for good.