"When a goddess smiles like that… run. Unless you're into divine disasters."
Midnight – Ridgeway Highway, Abandoned Urban Zone
The night air cracked as I drifted the all-blacked-out Yamaha R6 around a burned-out tanker truck. Sparks shot from the rear tire as I launched off a collapsed overpass, landed mid-slide, and spun into a stop at the edge of a rooftop.
Below, the ruins of Tokyo-13 stretched like a dead god's playground—flickering neon signs half-buried in rubble, bones of steel reaching for the stars.
I parked, stood, stretched.
"I gotta say," I muttered, pulling my hood down, "for a cursed city ruled by demonic underlords, this place has some killer drift spots."
My bike gave a small hum, almost like it was proud of itself.
I patted it.
"You're the only one who understands me, babe."
"You talk to your vehicle now?" came a voice behind me—cool, regal, and unmistakable.
I turned.
She stood at the ledge, bathed in the moonlight, her silver hair flowing gently in the breeze.
Lysaria. Goddess of Radiant Chains.
White dress, gold ornaments, and barefoot as always. She looked like an angel who could also break every bone in your body without blinking.
"I talk to everyone," I said. "Even vending machines. They listen more than most people."
She smiled softly. A deadly kind of soft.
Then her eyes narrowed.
"He's close."
The temperature dropped.
Air stilled.
And then—
The fog rolled in like a curtain being drawn.
From the shadows between two broken towers, he emerged—slow, patient, deliberate.
Vermund. The Black Fang of Oblivion.
Same pitch-black coat. Same crimson scarf. Hair like silver silk pulled back. Eyes like the void between stars.
He wasn't just walking—he was claiming space.
"Ah," he said, his voice cold and cultured, "The pet… and the mistress."
"Still using that lame nickname?" I called out, casually leaning on my bike. "You know, I came up with some better ones: 'Sir Broods-a-Lot', 'Walking Monologue', and my favorite—'Discount Sephiroth'."
Vermund stopped a few meters away.
He looked at Lysaria, ignoring me completely.
"Lysa," he said.
"Don't call me that," she snapped, voice sharp as steel.
Wait… they're on nickname terms?
"Oh boy," I said. "This has exes-in-the-same-party energy."
"Silence, mortal," Vermund murmured.
I held up both hands. "Sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt your toxic flashback."
Lysaria stepped forward, her aura flaring gold.
"You shouldn't be here," she said.
"I go where the truth festers," Vermund said calmly. "And tonight, it reeks of your guilt."
I looked back and forth between them.
"…Am I the only one not getting this soap opera?"
Lysaria didn't respond.
But her fists clenched.
"Vermund was once… my knight."
"I loved her," Vermund said, eyes unblinking. "Until she turned me into a weapon and left me to rot in the divine war."
I blinked.
"Ohhhh," I said. "So this is a betrayal arc. Damn. No wonder you're bitter. You got dumped and divine-zoned."
He snapped toward me.
"I will silence you."
"Try it," I said, drawing my blade, "and I'll introduce you to my new best friend."
I turned—and Lysaria was already behind me, holding something.
A long, curved black-and-gold heavy blade—wide like a war cleaver, glowing faintly with divine heat.
She handed it to me like it was a piece of herself.
"This," she said, "is called Kagetsura. It was forged in the fire of my oath—wielded only by those I trust."
I blinked. "You trust me?"
"I trust you to piss off my enemies until they slip."
"I can work with that."
I held Kagetsura in both hands. Heavy, but balanced. Power surged into my limbs. My aura flared white-red.
Vermund didn't move. His aura was pitch-black, colder than the grave.
"I warned you," he said. "You are not worthy of her favor."
"And yet," I said, lifting the blade, "she gave me a sword and not a restraining order. Sucks to be you."
Vermund moved first.
Faster than thought.
He was in front of me before I finished blinking—scarf whipping behind him like a blade.
I blocked with Kagetsura—BOOM—shockwaves burst outward.
Steel sang.
My boots scraped across the concrete as I held against his strike.
"Okay," I wheezed. "You're stronger than you look."
"I haven't even begun," he whispered.
He vanished again.
This time I spun, swinging Kagetsura in a wide arc—caught his next strike in midair.
Clang!
We exchanged a flurry of brutal attacks—his dark aura colliding with mine like shadow and lightning. The rooftop cracked beneath us.
Then—
He stabbed forward.
I misjudged.
The edge of his blade pierced my shoulder.
Blood exploded out.
I dropped to one knee, panting, vision swimming.
Not again…
He stood over me.
Cold. Detached.
"I told you before," he said softly, "I don't kill insects."
He turned to Lysaria.
"You replaced me with this?"
She didn't flinch.
"I didn't replace you," she said. "You gave yourself up."
He paused. Then disappeared—vanished into mist, leaving nothing but blood-scented fog behind.
I sat against the wrecked edge of the rooftop, clutching my shoulder, breathing through gritted teeth.
Lysaria knelt beside me.
"I'm fine," I groaned. "Only bleeding from... everywhere."
She gently placed her hand over the wound. Light bloomed. The pain faded.
"You did well," she said.
"I almost died."
"But you stood."
I looked at her, smiling.
"I stand a lot. Usually in line for ramen."
She laughed quietly. For real.
And when I looked again, her eyes were softer.
Not the look of a goddess who owned me.
But someone who… trusted me. Even if she wouldn't say it.
She rose and repaired the torn strap of my cloak with a flick of her fingers.
Then extended her hand.
I took it.
Later That Night – Riding Into Darkness
I roared down the highway, healed and alive, Kagetsura strapped to my back like a beast sleeping between battles.
The wind in my hair. The engine a heartbeat beneath me.
Lysaria rode behind me this time, arms around my waist. Silent.
I glanced at her.
"You know, this almost counts as a date."
She didn't respond.
But she didn't let go either.
I grinned.
"I mean, if I survive Vermund, we're doing karaoke. No negotiation."
"I don't sing," she said.
"We'll see."
The past was ugly. The road ahead was worse.But at least… I wasn't riding it alone anymore.