Rain pounded harder against the warehouse roof, each drop echoing like a clock ticking toward disaster. Steam hissed from cracked pipes, mingling with the faint metallic scent of blood and iron.
Lucian stood in the middle of it all—half-kneeling, trembling. The ribbons that had once lashed like serpents now hung frozen mid-air, swaying as if confused.
Inside him, two voices battled for the same breath.
> "You can't protect anyone."
Kane's tone was ice, each word like a blade.
"Every time you hesitate, evil breathes again."
> "And every time you kill," Lucian snarled back, "you bury what's left of us!"
Pain ripped through his skull; flashes of memory burned—cases Arata had solved, laughter on the beach with Yumi, late-night jokes over spilled coffee. The fragments collided with the cold thrill of Kane's justice. Two worlds, one heartbeat.
His body convulsed. One eye glowed gold, the other black as the void.
From behind a toppled crate, Arata leveled his weapon but didn't shoot. The detective's instincts screamed danger, but something deeper held his trigger finger still.
"Lucian," he called through the chaos, voice rough but steady. "You're not my enemy. Not yet. Don't let whatever's inside win."
For a heartbeat, the golden light flickered brighter. Kane's form wavered, struggling to stay dominant.
He's listening… Arata realized. He's fighting himself.
High above, Sera adjusted her grip on the rifle. Her heart hammered as she aimed—not to kill, but to distract.
She fired a single shot.
The bullet clipped a metal beam, sparks showering down. The sudden noise broke Kane's focus; Lucian seized the moment, gasping, dragging air into his lungs like someone surfacing from deep water.
With shaking hands, Lucian ripped the crimson ribbon from his wrist. Energy pulsed through him—half pain, half liberation. The ribbons shattered into threads of light that dissolved into the rain.
He collapsed to one knee, chest heaving. "No more," he whispered.
Inside his mind, Kane laughed softly, retreating but not gone.
> "You think you've won? I'll be waiting… the next time you close your eyes."
Lucian clenched his teeth, defiant. "Then I won't sleep."
As the last echo faded, Arata holstered his weapon and stepped forward slowly. "You're… the Reaper," he said, disbelief thick in his voice. "But… you're not him, are you?"
Lucian looked up, drenched, eyes flickering gold. "I'm… both."
Arata froze. The revelation hit him like thunder—three lives, three faces, all orbiting the same broken soul.
Sera climbed down from the rafters, her expression torn between relief and terror. She knelt beside Lucian, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder.
"You need help, Lucian. This thing inside you—"
He cut her off with a weak smile. "Help? I think I am the thing."
Outside, sirens wailed closer, reflecting blue and red against the warehouse walls. Arata turned toward the noise, then back to Lucian—who was already fading, his consciousness slipping.
He's losing control again…
And just before blackness swallowed him, a familiar cold voice whispered inside:
> "Your turn is over, Lucian."