"I'LL KILL YOUUUUU!"
The scream echoed across a void of darkness—ragged, broken, consumed by fury. The words cracked like shattered glass across an endless black screen.
Then came the fire.
A sudden burst of crimson light tore through the darkness, scorching the void with blinding heat. From within the blaze, ghostly hands clawed their way out—writhing, burning, reaching.
A figure emerged.
Cloaked in golden aura, a lone warrior carved through the inferno. His blade sliced through a charred sky, trailing light and ash as the world burned around him.
---
SMASH.
---
Ryu jolted awake.
He sat up fast, chest heaving, eyes wide. The threadbare mattress beneath him creaked in protest. Moonlight poured in through a cracked window, washing over his sweat-drenched face. For a moment, the dream clung to him like smoke—thick and suffocating.
His hazel eyes glimmered faintly in the dark… just a trace of red glinting in their depths.
He looked down. His hand trembled. There were faint traces of sweat across his palm.
A soft sound broke the silence.
Licking her paw at the edge of the room, a small white ferret tilted her head. The glow of moonlight caught the ragged patches of fur along her side as she hopped up onto the mattress beside him. She moved close, concerned—but careful not to crowd him.
"Another nightmare, huh?" Flare asked gently.
Ryu didn't answer right away. He couldn't. The fire was still fresh in his eyes.
The bathroom was silent—save for the gentle scraping of a toothbrush against enamel.
Ryu stood in front of a cracked mirror; his movements mechanical. Steam fogged the glass, blurring his reflection. He looked tired. Not just physically—spiritually. Like someone who had lived a lifetime in thirteen short years.
The mirror cleared slightly, revealing a barcode tattoo just below his collarbone.
He stared at it.
His face was pale, hollow. His jaw was tight. Behind his eyes, something boiled—quiet rage, unspoken and restrained, always simmering beneath the surface.
Hot water rained down on him minutes later as he stood in the shower, head bowed and shoulders slack. He leaned against the wall, eyes shut.
And then… came the memories.
A child's scream.
A bloody blade.
A twisted grin in the dark.
Flames—devouring everything.
The camp.
Gone.
---
His eyes opened again.
Still hollow.
Still burning.
He walked slowly through the facility's hallway—his bare feet brushing against cracked tiles and scattered debris. Morning light crept through fractured windows, casting lines of pale gold across the floor.
The corridor was silent, but the ghosts were always with him.
The walls were covered in moss, chipped plaster, and splashes of faded blood—like the place itself had tried to forget what happened here… and failed.
On the far wall, scrawled in weathered red paint, a single phrase bled through time:
"STRENGTH THROUGH SACRIFICE."
Ryu paused, staring at the words.
He didn't nod.
He didn't scoff.
He just kept walking.
Morning fog clung to the ground like a veil, cold and quiet. The heavy doors of the facility creaked open, groaning against rusted hinges as Ryu stepped outside.
The world beyond was broken.
Sunlight pierced through the mist, cutting faint beams across a twisted horizon of crumbling ruins and warped steel trees. The sky above was pale—almost silver.
Ryu paused at the edge.
For the first time, he was fully visible.
His skin was a deep brown, lit subtly by the misty glow. He wore a grey zip-up hoodie, slightly torn at the sleeves, and faded jean shorts that barely reached his knees. Around his neck hung a phoenix pendant—silver, old, and weathered, yet burning with silent meaning. Both ears were pierced, catching the faint glint of morning light.
His hair was short, coiled, and clean-cut with a low taper fade. His eyes—hazel with a trace of red—glowed faintly in the light, reflecting both exhaustion and something far fiercer beneath.
A sword was strapped across his back. Heavy. Silent. Waiting.
Without a sound, a small white ferret leapt up and landed softly on his shoulder. Flare. Her fur ruffled slightly from the mist, but her body stayed still—poised, alert, and ready.
"So... where to now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely more than breath.
Ryu didn't answer at first.
He stared into the world.
Into what came next.
Then, with calm certainty, he spoke.
"Let's go."
The city breathed.
Skyscrapers towered overhead, wrapped in thick patches of green vines that crawled up their sides like nature refusing to be forgotten. Neon kanji flickered on colossal billboards, casting strange shadows over the sidewalk below. Mystical symbols pulsed alongside corporate ads, a clash of old magic and modern tech lighting up the skyline.
Every wall told a story — faded graffiti, spiritual seals scrawled in chalk, murals so worn they looked like echoes from another life. A subway train howled above, grinding along vine-covered tracks overhead, its roar cutting through the spiritual hum in the air.
The city looked modern... but something ancient pulsed beneath it.
At street level, the sidewalk cracked beneath growing tree roots that pushed their way up through concrete. The world felt alive — more than alive. It felt watchful.
Three kids weaved through the crowd together, walking side by side as the morning buzz of Verdanox moved around them.
Luna, a brown-skinned Dominican girl, stood out the most — not because of her size, but her energy. Her big, natural curls were parted cleanly down the middle, bouncing as she walked. She wore a baggy football jersey and designer jeans that dragged slightly at the ankle, topped with a pair of worn sneakers that somehow still looked fly. Her hands moved constantly as she talked, her expression shifting every few seconds — eyes wide, eyebrows dancing. Animated, expressive, and definitely not shy.
Beside her, Messiah moved at a more relaxed pace. African American and Native American, his dark skin caught a soft sheen from the rising light. His hair rippled in waves, neatly brushed. A loose oversized shirt hung comfortably off his shoulders, paired with denim shorts. A clover-shaped bracelet dangled from one wrist, and a half-open snack bag rested in the other. His brown eyes stayed focused ahead, even as he responded to Luna's energy with calm, sarcastic quips between bites.
Trailing just a step behind, Kaito was quieter — thinner, lighter-skinned than the others, with a blended heritage of Japanese and Black roots. His black hair, tipped with faded brown from sun exposure, curled slightly at the ends. Khaki cargo pants sagged slightly under the weight of whatever he had stuffed into their deep pockets. A faded graphic tee hung off his frame, and dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from view, though they couldn't hide the tired aura he carried like a second skin.
Together, they looked like any group of city kids on a walk to school... but their path was heading somewhere much deeper.
"I swear," Luna groaned dramatically, tossing her hands in the air, "if I fail math again, I'm blaming Mercury retrograde."
"You just suck at math," Messiah replied flatly, not even looking up from his snack.
Kaito, hands in his pockets, added dryly, "Or the planets just hate you."
The three of them laughed, weaving around a crowd of office workers. They passed a cracked old billboard plastered high above the sidewalk — the paint faded, the message barely legible:
BELIEVE IN THE SPIRITUAL
"I'm more worried about the project due tomorrow," Messiah muttered, finally breaking his smirk.
Kaito blinked. "What project?"
Luna groaned again. "Ughhhh, don't remind me."
Across the street, someone moved against the flow of people.
A boy.
His hood was pulled up, and a katana was strapped across his back like it belonged there. He walked calmly through the crowd, untouched, unnoticed — or rather, unbothered.
As he turned the corner, his shoulder clipped Messiah's, jolting him slightly.
"Yo—watch it!" Messiah snapped, spinning around.
Luna and Kaito paused mid-step, eyes following the figure walking away.
"Wait… did he have a sword?" Luna asked, confused but curious.
Kaito lowered his sunglasses just a bit, revealing eyes sharp and alert beneath the tired exterior. He said nothing.
He simply watched.
Watched the boy disappear into the mist of Verdanox — as if the city had swallowed him whole.
He didn't speak.
But something inside him stirred.
The alley was narrow, foggy, and dimly lit—barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Trash clung to the corners like forgotten memories, and the brick walls were stained with spiritual graffiti—strange symbols that glowed faintly under the misty light.
Ryu moved through the alley without a sound, his steps calm and deliberate.
From the hood of his sweatshirt, a small nose peeked out.
Flare's whiskers twitched.
That scent… chopped cheese maybe? she thought, nose sniffing the air with growing excitement.
Before Ryu could react, she slipped from his hoodie, landing softly on the ground. In a flash of fur and determination, she was gone—darting down a side street.
"Flare. Stay clo—" Ryu began, but it was already too late.
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
"Tch… not again."
He reached the end of the alley and paused. In front of him stood a steel door embedded in the wall—unmarked and almost invisible except for the faint glow of spiritual glyphs etched around the edges. They pulsed gently, responding to his presence like they could sense his energy.
A metal slot in the door snapped open with a sharp shnk!, revealing a pair of sharp, yellow eyes watching him from the darkness inside.
"Password?" a voice asked from behind the door.
Ryu didn't answer.
Instead, a subtle bloodlust began to leak from his body, slow and steady—like smoke rising before the fire starts.
The metal creaked.
Just a little. Just enough to be noticed—the sound of something reacting to pressure it couldn't handle. The bouncer flinched slightly, catching the shift in the air. Aura. Heavy and low, leaking from the boy like a rising tide.
"Heh… alright, tough guy," the bouncer chuckled nervously, trying to play it off.
The door groaned open with a reluctant sigh.
"This ain't a place for kids…" he muttered as Ryu passed him. "But you ain't really a kid, huh?"
Inside, the bar was dimly lit—hazy with smoke, glowing faintly from scattered spiritual relics and flickering lights. The scent of old wood, sweat, and incense filled the air. Tables were covered in cards, coins, and conflict. Rough-looking wanderers traded goods, argued over drinks, or sat in tense silence.
No one noticed the boy at first.
Ryu walked in calmly, shoulders relaxed, eyes alert. He took a seat at the bar like he belonged.
The bartender eyed him—silent, unimpressed.
Without a word, he grabbed a small glass and poured milk into it. He slid it across the counter with a tired hand.
"No liquor for the underage," the man grunted. "House rules."
Ryu drank slowly. Quietly.
Then he spoke.
"You know anything about grimoires?"
The bartender froze mid-wipe.
The cloth stopped moving.
For a second, the haze in the bar seemed to pause with him.
"…Why would a kid like you ask about something like that?" he said, voice low.
Laughter cut through the haze.
It was flamboyant, theatrical—loud enough to turn heads even in a bar full of wanderers, outlaws, and spirits with unfinished business.
"Well now... did someone say grimoire?"
The voice came from across the room, accompanied by the heavy clack of boots and the soft jingle of jewelry. All eyes didn't need to look to know who it was—Loki had arrived.
Flashy didn't quite cover it. He wore rings on nearly every finger, a scarf wrapped carelessly around his neck, and eyeliner bold enough to make his expression unreadable. He moved like he owned the place, and maybe he did—because no one ever told him otherwise. His gang followed close behind, silent and sharp-eyed.
He swaggered toward the bar and leaned casually beside Ryu.
"You're a little young to be drunk, don't ya think?" he said with a smirk.
Ryu didn't even glance up.
"It's milk," he replied calmly.
Loki clapped once, loud and amused. "Classy! But I can respect it."
His gaze dropped for just a second—down to the katana strapped across Ryu's back. The smirk never left his face, but something colder flickered in his eyes.
Suddenly, everything went black.
No noise. No laughter. No bar.
Just darkness.
A whisper of breath echoed from the void. A face—half-visible—hovered in the shadows. Only the bottom half showed… but the smile said enough.
Twisted. Knowing.
Hades.
"…Now that's what I like to see," he murmured.
A half-wrapped chopped cheese sandwich lay on the sidewalk near a busy intersection, still steaming inside its foil. The scent lingered in the air, a beacon of greasy perfection left behind by a distracted buyer.
Flare was on it in seconds.
She darted through the crowd, nose twitching like radar. Her little paws tapped lightly on the pavement as she weaved between feet and bags, eyes locked on the prize.
There it is… jackpot.
She crouched low, ears back, ready to pounce.
And then—
Poke.
Something jabbed her side. She froze mid-pounce, fur bristling in every direction.
"That's a weird-looking rat," Kaito muttered from above, squinting as he nudged her again with a stick.
Flare's eyes went wide with disbelief. A rat?
Messiah leaned down beside Kaito, unimpressed and half-asleep. "What the fuck—are they evolving now?"
Before either could get another word out, Luna came barreling in and smacked both on the back of their heads.
"You idiots. That's not a rat. It's a ferret—and he's adorable!"
Kaito leaned closer, inspecting with narrowed eyes. "…Well, your *he* doesn't have balls."
The three of them froze.
Beat of silence.
Flare blinked slowly, deeply unamused.
Then Luna gasped, her eyes sparkling with delight as she scooped Flare up into her arms and hugged her tightly.
"That's even better!!"
Flare's tiny body was trapped—smushed into Luna's chest, eyes wide and spirit quietly breaking.
I'll slip away first chance I get… but I hope Ryu is doing okay, she thought solemnly.
Luna, meanwhile, carried her like a prized plush toy, completely unaware of the spiritual creature's silent suffering.
They walked together, the city noise swelling around them.
Tucked into Luna's arms, Flare peeked over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the sidewalk ahead, sharp and searching.
Then she froze.
...Ryu?
She narrowed her gaze.
There—on the far side of the street—Ryu walked calmly down the sidewalk, hood pulled low. He didn't appear to notice her. Or anyone else.
He was flanked by Loki and several other rough-looking men, each of them talking and smirking, but Ryu said nothing. His eyes were focused, distant.
Earlier, inside the bar...
"You know where I can get a grimoire?" Ryu had asked, his voice cold.
Loki smirked, leaning over the bar. "Would I be wasting my time if I didn't?"
His gaze dipped to the katana on Ryu's back.
"But I hope you know nothing's free. You better have something worth my time."
Back in the present, Flare couldn't wait any longer.
With a sudden wiggle, she broke free from Luna's arms and leapt to the ground, landing softly on all fours.
"Lola?! Where are you going?!" Luna shouted, startled, reaching for her.
But Flare was already gone.
She darted through the legs of pedestrians, tail whipping behind her like a silver ribbon. People grunted, stepped back, or swore under their breath as the little ferret carved a path through the crowd.
"Wait! Come back!" Luna cried, shoving past strangers as she followed in a panic.
Kaito and Messiah exchanged a glance, then took off after her.
"Luna, slow down! It's just a rat!" Kaito called out, exasperated.
"Yeah, we can get you a new one—that one looked like it had rabies anyway!" Messiah added with a shrug, clearly unbothered.
But Flare didn't hear them. Or maybe she did—and didn't care.
Her eyes were locked on the group ahead. On Ryu.
I need to hurry up before I lose sight of them, she thought, weaving through ankles and briefcases.
Up ahead, Ryu and the bandits turned down a side street, disappearing behind the flow of foot traffic.
Flare paused for just a breath. Then she bolted faster.
Something was off.
Her instincts screamed it.
She must make sure Ryu is okay
Ryu walked in silence; his hood low over his face as Loki led the way off a hidden back road. The rest of the entourage followed, boots crunching dirt and gravel beneath the weight of secrets and smoke. The road curved into a forest path swallowed by trees and vines, guiding them toward something old… and rotten.
The building that emerged from the brush looked like it had been forgotten by both time and the law. Overgrowth smothered the sides, but faded graffiti still clung to the siding—symbols that once held spiritual power now corrupted into something unholy. Cracked wooden signs hinted it had once been a shrine.
Now it was a trap house.
Its windows were boarded. The porch sagged inward. Shattered bottles and crushed cigarette butts littered the ground. A woman's bra dangled from the porch railing like a trophy. From inside, bass-heavy music thumped against the walls. The air reeked of weed… and something more dangerous.
Hidden in the brush nearby, Luna, Messiah, and Kaitocrouched low and watched.
"That's the boy from earlier," Luna whispered, eyes locked on Ryu.
Messiah squinted at Loki and his flamboyant entourage. "What is he doing with that—"
"Queer?" Kaito said bluntly, cutting him off without flinching.
The group froze in stunned silence.
Luna's glare was instant and lethal.
"…Says the one with frosted tips," she snapped.
Kaito, cool as ever, adjusted his sunglasses. "It's sun-bleached. I read outside a lot."
Before anyone could say more, the front door to the trap house flew open.
BAM.
Loki kicked it wide with a grin, waving his crew and Ryu inside like royalty returning home.
Ryu walked in silence; his hood low over his face as Loki led the way off a hidden back road. The rest of the entourage followed, boots crunching dirt and gravel beneath the weight of secrets and smoke. The road curved into a forest path swallowed by trees and vines, guiding them toward something old… and rotten.
The building that emerged from the brush looked like it had been forgotten by both time and the law. Overgrowth smothered the sides, but faded graffiti still clung to the siding—symbols that once held spiritual power now corrupted into something unholy. Cracked wooden signs hinted it had once been a shrine.
Now it was a trap house.
Its windows were boarded. The porch sagged inward. Shattered bottles and crushed cigarette butts littered the ground. A woman's bra dangled from the porch railing like a trophy. From inside, bass-heavy music thumped against the walls. The air reeked of weed… and something more dangerous.
Hidden in the brush nearby, Luna, Messiah, and Kaitocrouched low and watched.
"That's the boy from earlier," Luna whispered, eyes locked on Ryu.
Messiah squinted at Loki and his flamboyant entourage. "What is he doing with that—"
"Queer?" Kaito said bluntly, cutting him off without flinching.
The group froze in stunned silence.
Luna's glare was instant and lethal.
"…Says the one with frosted tips," she snapped.
Kaito, cool as ever, adjusted his sunglasses. "It's sun-bleached. I read outside a lot."
Before anyone could say more, the front door to the trap house flew open.
BAM.
Loki kicked it wide with a grin, waving his crew and Ryu inside like royalty returning home.
The stench hit immediately.
Not even the haze of cheap incense could hide it. The inside of the trap house reeked—thick layers of smoke, sweat, sex, and synthetic chemicals clung to the walls like a second skin. The lights flickered. Something crawled across the floor in the corner.
Ryu stepped in last. He didn't sit.
His eyes scanned every shadowed corner, every face that turned his way.
"Where's the grimoire?" he asked flatly.
Loki flopped onto a stained couch like it was a throne, arms wide, legs crossed, looking every bit the sleazy host. "Relax," he said lazily. "We haven't even worked out the terms of our agreement."
He grinned, smoke curling from his lips. "This is business, after all."
Up above them, in the rafters, a pair of small eyes gleamed.
Flare.
She peeked out from a broken ventilation shaft, tucked low into the shadows. She had slipped in unnoticed, silent as ever.
Ryu glanced upward—just once. Just long enough to see her.
Their eyes met.
Flare gave the slightest nod… and vanished back into the dark.
Ryu turned back toward Loki, a smirk finally touching the corner of his lips.
"Yeah… this is business."
Outside, the mood was tense.
Luna, Messiah, and Kaito crouched low behind a wall of tangled bushes, their bodies still and voices hushed. A dim orange glow from the hideout pulsed through the leaves like a heartbeat.
They couldn't see much, but they could hear just enough to know trouble waited behind those walls.
Kaito crossed his arms, unusually serious.
"…We should check on him."
"Ouuu, you worried?" Messiah grinned, raising an eyebrow at Kaito.
Kaito shrugged. "I'm just saying—he walked into a drug den with a guy who looks like he bathes in glitter. Something's off."
Messiah leaned back, hands behind his head, totally unbothered. "He looked fine to me. Probably negotiating over milk and sword polish."
Luna, crouched nearby, kept her eyes locked on the building. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, jaw set.
"…We can't just sit here," she said quietly.
CRASH!!!
A second-story window exploded in a spray of shattered glass.
Ryu burst through the opening like a bullet, mid-air, his hood whipping in the wind. One arm held tight to his chest—Flare tucked safely inside his jacket; her fur barely visible. In his free hand, he gripped a worn, leather-bound book. A grimoire.
He hit the ground hard, landing in a crouch, eyes locked forward.
The trio stared in stunned disbelief.
"…He looks fine to me," Messiah repeated, slower this time.
Then—
The front door slammed open.
Loki stormed out, face twisted in rage. His coat was shredded, hair wild, aura crackling around his body like fire lashing against the night. He looked unrecognizable.
And very, very angry.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Loki's voice exploded through the trees as he stormed out of the trap house, aura flaring in jagged bursts. His coat hung in tatters; face twisted with rage. He scanned the woods—and saw them.
Crouched low in the brush: Luna, Kaito, and Messiah.
Loki's sneer sharpened.
"So… you must be his lookout."
He pointed toward them. One of his men tensed, ready to move.
"Grab 'em," Loki barked.
The trio froze.
No one said anything at first.
Then Luna spoke—quietly. Almost too quiet for anyone to hear over the wind.
Still crouched, arms wrapped around herself, she muttered under her breath.
"…Well, we're not."
Her words weren't meant for Loki.
They were meant for Messiah.
And herself.
Because he might've looked fine… but nothing about this was.
Ryu ran through the trees, his hoodie ripped, his body low and fast. The grimoire was clutched tight in one hand, Flare buried against his chest beneath his jacket.
They didn't stop until they hit a clearing.
There, he finally dropped to one knee, breath ragged.
Flare crawled free, landing beside him with a quiet thump. She glanced back toward the glowing haze of the hideout behind them.
"We made it…" she said softly.
But her ears lowered, her voice shifting.
"…They took the fall for you."
Ryu stood.
His eyes didn't blink. His voice was flat.
"They shouldn't have been there."
Flare stepped into Ryu's path, glaring up at him with rare fury in her eyes.
"So what?" she snapped. "Let them die?"
Ryu paused.
His foot hovered above the ground, but he didn't move. His gaze lowered. The silence between them hung heavy.
Flare didn't flinch.
"…I guess you don't mind adding to the count," she said, her voice sharper now. Quieter. Deadlier.
The world fell still.
The light bent strangely, shadows growing long around Ryu's feet like claws reaching outward.
Then—
Hands began to rise.
Ghostly, decayed fingers curled from beneath the dirt and the trees. They weren't real. But they were.
Whispers.
Faint voices clawed into his ears.
"...Whyyy…" "...It hurts…" "...Make it stop…"
Ryu's body tensed. His fingers twitched. His breath caught in his throat.
His eyes shifted slightly, just enough to betray something inside him cracking.
A beat passed.
And then, softly but firmly, he whispered—
"…Okay."
The room was dim.
A single bulb swung from the ceiling, casting shadows that flickered across the walls like ghosts at war.
Luna, Messiah, and Kaito sat tied to chairs—faces bruised, skin bloodied. The ropes dug deep into their wrists. Their heads hung low, but their spirits hadn't broken. Not yet.
And they weren't alone.
Loki stood in the center of the room.
No crew.
No guards.
Just him.
He paced slowly in front of them, a dagger twirling between his fingers. The scrape of his boots against the floor echoed through the silence like a countdown.
He didn't speak.
He didn't have to.
His gaze shifted from one prisoner to the next, cold and calculating. Patient.
He was waiting.
Loki's voice curled with venom.
"You really expect me to believe you don't know that kid?"
Messiah lifted his head, face swollen but spirit sharp.
"We were just following the rat, man," he growled. "We don't even know him."
Loki sighed and turned his dagger over in his hand, admiring its edge like it was art.
"Tch… such a waste," he muttered. "I'll get what I want... one way or another."
He walked toward Luna—slowly, deliberately.
She stared up at him, refusing to flinch.
He raised the blade toward her chest.
"Pretty sure someone out there pays top dollar for young, healthy organs."
He smiled—
And drove the dagger down.
CLANG!
The dagger never landed.
It was stopped—blocked mid-strike by the scabbard of a katana.
Ryu stood between them, hood casting a shadow over his eyes. His body was still. His aura wasn't.
Loki's arm trembled as steel met steel.
There had been no sound. No footstep. No warning.
Just Ryu.
Then—
BAM!
Ryu kicked Loki with brutal force, sending him crashing into crates and splintered wood. The impact echoed like thunder.
Luna gasped, heart still racing from the blade that had nearly ended her life.
The trio stared in stunned silence. Even Messiah had no quip this time.
Loki groaned on the floor, blood streaking his lip.
"…How the hell did you get past everyone outside?" he spat.
Cut to the front of the hideout.
Dozens of bodies lay sprawled in the grass and on the porch.
Unconscious. Broken. Beaten.
Some were slumped in piles. Others hadn't even been given time to scream.
Ryu had made sure of that.
Outside, Flare sat calmly atop one of the unconscious bandits, licking her paw like nothing had happened.
Inside, chaos exploded.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Loki roared, charging straight at Ryu, his fist swinging wide with rage.
Ryu didn't flinch.
He ducked low, angling his scabbard upward just enough to deflect the punch and shift Loki's momentum. The man stumbled.
Loki spun, attempting a wild kick.
Ryu leapt over it, flipping mid-air, and landed silently behind him—composed. Calculating. His movements were sharp, precise. His eyes locked onto every twitch of Loki's body.
Another blade flashed.
Loki had drawn a second weapon and lunged forward with a snarl.
Ryu planted his scabbard into the floor, vaulted upward, and soared clean over the strike.
He landed in a low slide.
Before Loki could react, Ryu swept forward with his still-sheathed sword, slamming into Loki's ankles and ripping his legs out from under him.
THUD.
Loki hit the floor hard, wheezing.
He scrambled backward, hand out, body trembling now.
"O-Okay!" he gasped. "Okay! The grimoire—was fake!"
Ryu paused.
His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk.
"I should've known."
Shing.
The sound of steel slicing the air filled the room.
Ryu slowly drew his blade.
A shimmer of heat and light pulsed off the metal like it remembered fire.
Then his features began to shift.
His calm expression tightened.
His hazel eyes glowed—then changed.
Red.
Slitted.
Dragon-like.
Ryu's body pulsed with heat.
His fangs extended slightly, breath curling like smoke. The air warped around him, bending to the pressure of his rising aura.
His hair lifted, wild and weightless blown upward by a storm only he could generate.
Across from him, Loki stood frozen.
Weaponless.
Trembling.
"I'm sorry!" he shouted. "I'll let them go! I'll stop lying—please!"
Ryu didn't answer.
He simply walked forward, blade in hand, step by step—calm, silent, focused.
The trio—Messiah, Luna, Kaito—remained motionless. Uncertain if they should feel safe or terrified.
Ryu's voice broke the silence.
Cool. Controlled.
"Now I don't mind adding you to my count."
Behind Loki, something moved.
Ghostly hands reached from the shadows—skeletal and pale, glowing faintly. The spirits of those Ryu once killed. For the first time, they became visible to someone else.
They clawed toward Loki.
Hungry.
Loki turned.
And saw them.
His eyes went wide with terror.
"...W-what the hell is that?!"
The spirits surged forward, grabbing at his arms, neck, chest—dragging him toward Ryu as if demanding retribution.
"No—get them off me!" he screamed.
But they didn't stop.
Ryu didn't stop.
FWASH!
His sword cut through the air in a blazing arc of crimson fire.
A flash.
Then blood.
Loki gasped.
A diagonal gash split across his chest.
The spirits faded.
But the damage was done.
Loki's body hit the ground with a dull thud.
No dramatic scream. No final insult. Just dead weight collapsing to the floor, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.
The blade in Ryu's hand steamed faintly—heat and blood whispering off its edge like the last breath of something ancient.
He stood over the corpse, face unreadable.
No victory.
No relief.
Just quiet.
Kaito was the first to speak, voice barely above a whisper.
"...He just—"
Messiah and Luna didn't let him finish.
"Fuck," they said together, stunned.
Narration filled the void.
"Some fires are born to warm the world. Others… only know how to burn it down."