The rain had ceased, but the air still carried the weight of thunder. Shinomiya Reiji stood at the cliff's edge, his coat whipping against the violent wind. Below, the sprawling ruins of the abandoned city shimmered faintly under the fractured light of the moon. Shadows clung to the rubble, shifting unnaturally—alive, waiting.
The silence was deceptive. Every heartbeat echoed like a warning, every breath laced with unease. Reiji's hand gripped the hilt of his blade, still stained with the remnants of the last battle. His body ached, but the deeper pain came from within—fragmented thoughts, voices whispering in tones he could not silence.
> "You are not whole."
"You never were."
The voice seeped into his mind like poison. He had heard it before, in battles where death brushed against him like a cold hand. But this time, it grew stronger, almost as if the city itself was speaking through his fractured psyche.
A shadow stepped out from the ruins, its form vaguely human yet impossibly distorted. The air rippled around it, and for an instant, Reiji saw himself—his own reflection staring back at him, but with hollow eyes that gleamed with malice.
The Fractured Edge.
That was the name the ancients had given this place: where the boundaries between man and shadow were stripped bare, where even reality seemed uncertain.
The doppelgänger moved without sound, drawing a blade identical to Reiji's. The reflection mimicked his stance perfectly, every detail sharp and merciless.
The battle erupted with a force that tore the silence apart. Steel clashed against steel, sparks scattering across the broken stones. Each strike was heavier than the last, as though Reiji was fighting not just an enemy, but his own sins, his own regrets carved into flesh.
He faltered for a moment—memories crashing against him. Blood on his hands. Screams in the dark. The weight of every choice. The reflection struck, slicing across his arm, and for a brief moment, Reiji swore he felt not just the wound, but his soul tearing.
Yet even in agony, his resolve held.
"You are not me," he growled through clenched teeth. "You are the part I've already killed."
The doppelgänger smirked—a grotesque mirror of his defiance.
They moved faster, the world around them dissolving into shadow and fire. Blades cut through illusions, through memories, through the very fabric of Reiji's being. Every strike threatened to consume him, but every counter was an act of rebellion against the abyss.
At last, with a roar that tore from his chest, Reiji drove his blade forward. The reflection staggered, its hollow eyes widening in silent rage before shattering into fragments of darkness. The shards swirled in the wind, dissolving into nothingness.
Silence returned, broken only by Reiji's ragged breathing. His reflection was gone, but its weight remained—etched into his bones, a scar invisible to the world.
He sheathed his blade and looked out once more at the ruined city. The storm within him had not ended. If anything, it had only deepened.
Yet he walked forward, into the ruins, into the shadows. Because this fractured edge was not the end—only another step into the abyss he had chosen long ago.