The night air was still heavy with the scent of ozone and dust. The lamplights flickered, struggling to stay alive amidst the lingering energy that clung to the streets. At the centre of the ruined avenue, Crimson Spark slowly rose to his feet, breath ragged, eyes locked on the two figures standing before him.
Miyako, her wounded arm still bandaged, smiled with that blend of scorn and amusement that enraged him more than any injury. At her side, Katsuo stood firm, his arms transformed into thick extensions of dark wood that gleamed beneath the crimson glow of the lightning crackling through the air.
"So this is the famed hero of the red lightning…" Katsuo's deep voice rolled through the empty street. "Not so invincible now, are you?"
Crimson ground his teeth. Scarlet energy began coursing through his arms, illuminating the cracks in the ground beneath his feet.
"And what are you?" he asked coldly. "Another one of her hired monsters?"
"Call me what you will," Katsuo replied without moving. "But she will not fall tonight."
Miyako laughed, light and almost musical, yet threaded with darkness."How romantic that sounds, Katsuo… enough to make one think you actually care."
"Don't mistake me," he replied, eyes never leaving Crimson. "I'm only making sure you keep your word."
"Oh, of course," Miyako murmured, raising her submachine gun with a twisted smile. "I promised to make the hero suffer, didn't I?"
The scarlet glow flared brighter. Crimson took a step forward, the ground groaning underfoot."Suffer?" His voice trembled with restrained rage. "Like Isamu did?"
The name struck the three of them like a heavy blow. Miyako tilted her head, lips curling into a slow, cruel smile."Oh, so it still hurts. I'm glad his death wasn't in vain."
Katsuo turned his head slightly, casting her a fleeting, silent warning. But it was already too late. The spark of fury in Crimson's eyes ignited into an explosion.
A red bolt descended from the sky, striking the ground inches from Miyako. The blast rattled the windows of nearby buildings. Miyako leapt back, laughing as if she were savouring the chaos. Katsuo stepped forward, his oak-like arms stretching and crossing in front of her, forming a living barrier that absorbed much of the force.
"I warned you to stop!" Crimson roared, his voice blended with the electric hum.
"And miss your performance of rage? Never," Miyako replied, vanishing from sight a second later.
Crimson frowned, feeling the air shift around him. He fired a lateral discharge, but it struck only emptiness. Katsuo seized the opening, launching forward, his right arm morphing into a massive root that burst from the ground to ensnare the hero.
But Crimson reacted in time: a leap, a somersault, and his energy shattered the wooden strike into a thousand burning splinters. The battle had begun.
"Do you really think you can protect her?" Crimson shouted, raising his arm as the red energy roared like liquid fire. "She is a murderer!"
Katsuo's gaze hardened, his deep voice like a judgement passed:"And you are blind to the truth—that even justice corrupts."
His arms sank into the pavement, roots multiplying, spreading through the rubble. Crimson unleashed a volley of lightning to slice them apart, but they twisted and grew, serpentine and relentless, shielding the ground around them.
Then—a faint metallic echo sounded behind him.
Crimson turned—too late.
An invisible burst tore through the dark, bullets whistling past his head by mere inches. He evaded on instinct, and one struck a nearby wall, sparking blue on impact.
Suppression rounds.
He recognised them instantly.
So it was true—what the informant had said. She has ammunition that steals energy.
The tension deepened. The air grew thick, vibrating, almost unbearable.
The three of them watched one another in silence, breaths uneven, measuring every move.
The night had just ignited, and none seemed ready to retreat.
The silence lasted but a heartbeat.
Then, the street erupted in a scarlet flash that cleaved the darkness like a blade.
Crimson Spark charged forward, releasing a brutal discharge from his arms. The air warped, the pavement cracked, and a shockwave of energy surged towards Miyako and Katsuo. Katsuo reacted instantly: his arms plunged into the earth, summoning thick roots that intertwined, forming a living dome to shield them. Even so, the blast was so violent it hurled both of them back.
"Don't hold back!" Miyako shouted from the shadows, her disembodied voice echoing everywhere. "Come on, hero! Show me how those who believe in justice weep!"
Crimson clenched his jaw. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her—moving with that shadowy grace he so despised.
He spun and unleashed a short barrage of lightning, striking the spots where gunfire had sounded moments earlier. Sparks lit the fractured walls, the broken asphalt, the fallen signs.
Nothing.Only the echo of his own breath.
Then, a hail of bullets closed in on him.
Crimson twisted sharply, crossing his arms just in time to raise a defensive field of energy. Bullets struck and ricocheted, but one—just one—pierced through the weakened barrier, grazing his shoulder. A sharp pain, and then… silence.
His energy flickered.
For an instant, the power flowing through his veins faltered.
A suppression round.
It had struck him.
Time slowed.
Miyako appeared metres away, fully visible now, her submachine gun trained on his chest."Well, well… so even heroes can bleed," she whispered, smiling perversely.
Crimson didn't answer. He drew in a deep breath, letting the tremor pass. His eyes glowed like smouldering embers as the energy surged back into his body.
"It won't last long," he growled through his teeth. "Don't underestimate what you don't understand."
And in a blink—he vanished from her sight.
A thunderous blast roared behind her, a crimson bolt tearing through the ground and hurling her back several metres. Miyako rolled across the pavement, coughing—yet laughing all the same."That was…" she coughed again, "…better."
Katsuo seized the chance. His wooden arms grew tall as lampposts, hardened, and came crashing down on Crimson.
The hero blocked one with a burst of energy, but the second slammed into his chest, throwing him against a parked car that exploded on impact.
Miyako reappeared at Katsuo's side, panting yet smiling."Well done. Now let's finish him."
"Don't underestimate his resilience," the hunter replied, eyes on the shifting debris. "That one doesn't fall so easily."
And he was right. From within the smoke, a scarlet glow emerged.
Crimson Spark rose once more, his body crackling with raw energy, eyes blazing like miniature suns."You think the two of you can defeat me together?" His voice thundered with near-divine fury.
"We don't think it," Miyako said with a grin, loading her weapon. "We're going to do it."
And the night erupted again.
Lightning and gunfire clashed, wood and metal striking against pure energy. Each blow lit the street like a battlefield of gods. The shouts, the electric hum, the acrid scent of burning all blended with Miyako's laughter and Katsuo's guttural growls.
The battle had only just begun…and the city would become their stage.
The air had grown unbreathable. Each breath Crimson Spark drew crackled with red sparks that lit his hardened face. The streets were wrecked: shattered asphalt, burnt-out lampposts, cars torn apart. The buzz of electrical energy lingered like a swarm of furious bees.
Miyako reappeared behind a wrecked vehicle, crouched low, laughing under her breath."Look at him, Katsuo…" she whispered. "He's breaking. I can see it. He's no hero anymore—just an angry man in a pretty costume."
Katsuo gave no reply. His arms, still hardened wood, burrowed into the ground, searching for new roots. His breathing was steady, his gaze fixed on the red glow marking the enemy's position."Don't get careless," he said in a low tone. "A wounded man is far more dangerous than a whole one."
A thunderclap cut his words short. A crimson bolt struck exactly where they had stood moments before. Miyako rolled, vanishing before she hit the ground, while Katsuo braced against the shockwave with a dense wall of branches.
Leaves caught fire.The scent of charred wood filled the air.
"Enough hiding, murderer!" Crimson bellowed, his voice reverberating like a thunderstorm barely contained. "Show your face and fight me head-on!"
Miyako flickered into view metres away, twisted smile and unhinged eyes gleaming."Oh, poor hero…" she said in honeyed venom. "Is this how you felt when you learned Isamu was dead? Does that rage make you feel more alive?"
Crimson's body tensed.A crack split beneath his feet.
"Shut up."
"And if I don't?" Miyako laughed, raising her gun. "What then—will you kill me like you killed my family?"
The hero answered with an explosion of energy. It wasn't a directed attack—it was pure release, a roar of fury that shook the glass of nearby buildings and flooded the street with a carmine blaze.
Katsuo had to shield Miyako with a wooden wall that cracked instantly beneath the force."You're trying to destroy half the city!" he shouted. "You mad bastard!"
Crimson advanced through the smoke, lightning writhing around him like luminous serpents."If that's what it takes to stop you, then let it all burn!"
Miyako cackled."That's it, Crimson. Let it out. Show us what you really are."
Her voice slithered into his mind like a whisper, and with each word, he lost more control.
Katsuo seized the moment.He slammed the ground, and a surge of roots burst forth, coiling around Crimson's legs. For a second, they held him fast.
Miyako, once again invisible, slipped through the rubble and took her position behind him, weapon ready."Even gods bleed…" she murmured—and pulled the trigger.
A burst of bullets struck Crimson's field. Most ricocheted, but one managed to pierce through, lodging deep in his side. A metallic, wet sound echoed.
Crimson screamed in pain, collapsing to one knee.His body sparked…and for a moment, all power drained away.
Miyako appeared before him, submachine gun hanging loosely at her shoulder, watching him with the calm of a predator who had already won."Do you know what I feel right now?" she asked softly, almost wistfully. "Nothing. No guilt, no fear, no satisfaction. Just… emptiness."
Her smile soured."That's what you left in me when you killed my family."
Crimson lifted his head, face streaked with dust and blood, breathing ragged."It wasn't me…"
"I don't care." Her voice was cold, cutting across his words. "Someone had to pay."
Katsuo approached from behind, his arm shaped into a wooden lance."Let's end this."
But before he could strike, an electric roar shook the air. Crimson Spark, driven by a fury greater than pain, unleashed a massive discharge. Roots burned instantly; Miyako and Katsuo were hurled through the air, smashing into the ruins of a building.
Both lay still for several seconds, dazed.
Miyako coughed, laughing weakly."Heh… almost felt sorry for him."
"Never underestimate a hero," Katsuo growled, dragging himself upright. "He hasn't fallen yet."
And indeed—Crimson stood before them still. Trembling, yes, bleeding heavily, sparks of energy flickering like liquid fire around his battered body. His knees wavered, crimson dripping from his side drop by drop.
The balance of the fight was breaking.One more would fall—and the other would be scarred forever.
The silence after Crimson Spark's last discharge felt almost unreal.
The air still vibrated, heavy with static, as though the world itself were holding its breath before the final blow.
Miyako rose slowly, grimacing. A deep cut marred her shoulder, her side scorched by a burst of energy. Her clothes were torn, strands of blue hair plastered to her sweat-slick skin.
And still… she smiled."Look at him, Katsuo," she said between ragged laughs. "Still standing. So stubborn… like every hero."
Katsuo hauled himself up beside her, breath ragged, his right arm still hardened into wood, fissures smoking from the heat of the lightning."He won't last long. But neither will we," he growled, eyes sweeping the devastation. "We have to end this now."
Crimson Spark stood before them, swaying, drenched in blood and ash. His body sparked in intervals, like a lamp about to fail. The scarlet aura that once engulfed him was no more than a flicker.
Yet his gaze was still a hero's: unbroken, unyielding."No…" he gasped. "I won't fall… not to murderers like you."
"Murderers?" Miyako laughed, stepping closer, her submachine gun dangling at her shoulder. "What makes you think you're still better than us?"
Her voice was low, almost mournful."Look around you, Crimson… all this—you did it. Houses shattered, fire, ruins." She raised a trembling hand, pointing at the devastation. "And you still think you're on the right side."
The hero clenched his teeth, staggering forward a step.A thread of lightning coiled down his arm, forming a sphere of energy in his palm."I don't care to argue with you. Only to end this nightmare."
Katsuo moved quickly, slamming his hands into the ground. Columns of hardened wood erupted from the pavement, driving towards Crimson like spears.
He countered with a bolt, disintegrating one, but the other two struck, knocking him back with a dull thud.
Miyako seized the moment. In a fluid motion, she vanished into invisibility, slipping through smoke and dust.
Crimson tried to follow the sound, but his vision blurred.Pain seared his side, a constant hum gnawed at his skull. Each breath was agony.
Then—footsteps. A faint crunch of gravel behind him.
And a voice."Do you know the funniest part of all this?" Miyako whispered at his back, unseen. "Isamu didn't think he would die, either."
A burst of gunfire.Short. Precise.
Crimson spun, barely deflecting part of the volley, but one of the special rounds tore into his leg.
His energy faltered.The glowing sphere in his hand dissolved in a blink.
Katsuo struck in that instant. His arm transformed fully into a claw of blackened oak, stretching metres long before crashing against the hero's chest.
The impact was brutal. Crimson was hurled against a wall, which collapsed under the force.
Dust rose like a curtain.
Miyako became visible again, advancing calmly, eyes gleaming with madness and adrenaline."Game over, Crimson," she said, reloading her weapon.
On his knees, Crimson could barely move. His breath came in ragged gasps.Yet he lifted his gaze."If you think this… will give you back what you lost…" he coughed blood, "…then you're already deader than me."
For an instant, Miyako's smile broke.Just a second.
But enough for Katsuo to notice the doubt flicker in her eyes."Miyako," he said firmly. "It's done. Let's go."
"No… I'm not finished." She raised her weapon once more.
The distant drone of helicopters split the night.White searchlights swept across the sky.
Katsuo cursed under his breath."We have to go, now!"
Miyako squeezed the trigger—then faltered at the last second. The bullet vanished into the dark, missing its mark.
Half-conscious, Crimson slumped sideways, eyes fluttering shut.
Katsuo seized her arm, dragging her with him."Come on! Stay here and we die together."
She kept looking back, at the hero's fallen figure lit by the fire's glow."…he's not dead."
"He doesn't need to be," Katsuo replied grimly. "Enough that he can't follow."
Together they fled into the side alleys. The sound of helicopters grew louder, sirens wailing, military orders echoing through the ruins.
Miyako, breathless, let out a broken laugh."Heh… we almost had him."
"Almost got us killed, you mean," Katsuo shot back, rounding a corner. "Never underestimate an S-rank hero."
Behind them, the crimson glow slowly faded.
Crimson Spark lay amidst rubble, unconscious. His breathing was weak, but steady.
Meanwhile, several kilometres away, Miyako and Katsuo hid on the rooftops of an abandoned building.
The night wind tugged at her blue hair, still matted with blood.
Miyako sat at the edge, eyes fixed on the burning city."You know what the worst part was?" she said suddenly, without looking at him. "It wasn't killing him. It was not being able to."
Katsuo folded his arms, watching her in silence."Winning doesn't always mean surviving, Miyako."
She smiled—without humour."And losing doesn't always mean being dead."
The invisible camera of the night enclosed them.The city kept on breathing, oblivious to the price of that battle.