Chapter 8– Iris' First Ambush
The gymnasium smelled of waxed floors and sweat. Normally, it was a safe space for Jack—a place where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of bouncing basketballs drowned out his thoughts. Tonight, however, it was a trap.
The after-school practice had just wrapped up. Students filed out, laughing, slinging towels over their shoulders, oblivious to the strange tension crawling up Jack's spine. He lingered, wiping down a bench, trying to delay the inevitable bus ride home where his thoughts would eat him alive.
That's when the lights flickered.
One. Two. Three times. Then they dimmed, casting long shadows across the bleachers.
Jack's hand tightened on the rag. He knew that feeling now—the heaviness in the air, the static prickling along his arms. He wasn't alone.
A soft click of heels echoed behind him.
He turned.
Iris stood at the far end of the gym, framed by the exit lights. Her uniform was perfect, her crimson hair tied back, but her eyes glowed faintly red in the dark.
"You've been avoiding me," she said in a voice like velvet.
Jack's mouth went dry. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."
Her lips curved. "Don't play dumb. The bangle chose you. That means you've stepped into the game. And if you're in the game, Jack Rivers…" She slid a blade from the scabbard strapped under her blazer—black steel licked with flames. "…then you're mine."
She advanced slowly, the way a predator circles prey. The air grew hotter, shimmering faintly as if the walls themselves were catching fire.
Jack backed up, heart hammering. "Listen, I didn't choose any of this! I just want my life back!"
Her gaze softened, but only for a moment. "No one gets their life back. Not after the clans mark you."
Then she lunged.
Jack dove sideways, her blade slicing clean through the bench he'd been leaning on. Wood splintered, flames sparking along the cut. He scrambled to his feet, clutching his wrist where the bangle pulsed violently.
Run. Hide. Anything.
But his body refused to obey. The bangle seared his skin, as though it wanted him to stand his ground.
Iris twirled her blade, the flames dancing higher. "Fight me. Show me what that relic gave you."
Jack shook his head. "I don't even know what I'm doing!"
Her smile sharpened. "Then you'll die before you learn."
She charged again—this time faster, her sword arcing with fire. Jack raised his hand instinctively.
The bangle exploded with blue light.
A barrier formed—a shimmering wall of symbols and runes, humming like a song. Iris' blade struck it, sparks cascading, but the barrier held.
Jack staggered back, staring at the glowing sigils floating in the air. His chest tightened. "What the hell…?"
Iris' eyes widened. For the first time, surprise cracked her perfect mask. "So. You really do have potential."
Her tone shifted—softer, almost possessive. "That makes you worth keeping."
Before Jack could respond, the gym doors slammed open.
Five shadows entered—students in emerald insignias glowing faintly under the dim lights. The Green Griffin scouts.
"Well, well," their leader drawled, his voice echoing in the cavernous gym. "Looks like we aren't the only ones curious about the boy."
Iris hissed, turning her blade toward them. "This one's mine."
The leader smirked. "We'll see."
Jack's stomach dropped as two clans squared off in the gym, and he stood trapped in the middle, his bangle still glowing like a beacon.
The Green Griffins fanned out like predators circling a wounded animal. Their emerald insignias gleamed faintly across their jackets, glowing unnaturally in the flickering gym lights.
The leader—a tall boy with ash-white hair and a scar slashing across his cheek—twirled a collapsible glaive. His aura leaked sharp, suffocating pressure, just like Sanemi from Demon Slayer, a storm caged inside a single body.
"Step aside, dragon," he sneered at Iris. "The boy belongs to us."
Iris' lips curled. "He wears my mark now." She raised her flaming sword, the heat shimmering through the air. "You'll have to carve through me to touch him."
The Griffins chuckled, fanning out, their weapons glinting—blades, spears, even chain-sickles. Their eyes all fixed on Jack.
Jack's legs trembled. He was a spectator trapped in the center of a storm. His bangle pulsed again, hot against his skin, but the idea of wielding power felt absurd. I'm no warrior. I'm not even supposed to be here.
The Griffin leader snapped his glaive outward, the blade igniting with green fire. "Boys—test her resolve."
The gymnasium exploded into chaos.
Two Griffins charged Iris from either side, weapons clanging, sparks scattering as she whirled her flaming sword to parry. The clash of steel against steel rang like thunder, every strike punctuated by bursts of heat.
Jack scrambled backward, clutching his wrist as the bangle flared brighter with every strike. It was reacting—not just to him, but to the battle itself.
"Jack!" Iris barked, slamming one Griffin back with a burst of fire. Her crimson eyes locked onto him, wild but determined. "Don't just stand there! Use it!"
"I don't know how!" he yelled back, panic cracking his voice.
The Griffin leader smirked, his glaive sweeping arcs of green flame as he advanced toward Jack. "Don't worry, boy. You'll learn—before you die."
The bangle seared Jack's skin. His vision blurred, flashing images not of the gym but of ruins, fire, and his own reflection standing amidst shadows with a dozen weapons strapped to his back. His breath hitched—his heart knew what his mind couldn't grasp.
And then—
BOOM!
The gym doors burst inward a second time.
But this time, it wasn't students. It was men in black tactical gear, their wrists glinting with strange metallic bangles.
The cops.
"Freeze!" their captain barked, leveling a plasma rifle glowing blue. "All of you—drop your weapons!"
The Griffins turned as one, hissing like cornered predators. Iris' blade blazed hotter. And Jack, caught between clans and cops, felt the air itself tear apart with tension.
The gym was now a powder keg—any spark, any move, would ignite war.
The Cops' First Clash
The subway tunnels groaned under the weight of silence, the air damp and metallic. Flashlights cut through the dark as the black-clad squad descended deeper into the abandoned line.
"Energy spike originated here," the tech specialist whispered, her bangle flickering with faint symbols. "Red and green signatures… multiple users."
The captain nodded grimly, his plasma rifle raised. "Stay sharp. If they're fighting, we don't get between them unless civilians are at risk. Our job is containment."
But they weren't fast enough.
The tunnel ahead erupted in light—crimson fire colliding with emerald lightning. Two assassins clashed violently, their weapons shattering concrete pillars with each strike. Sparks rained across the tracks.
The cops spread out instantly. The sharpshooter took aim, releasing a burst from his wrist-bangle—an energy net that flared bright and wrapped around one combatant. For a second, the red assassin staggered, trapped.
But with a roar, she burned the net to ash.
"Confirmed: their power is evolving," the tech murmured, scanning her bangle. "Whatever fuels them, it's syncing with something outside our world."
The captain cursed under his breath. "And the boy's at the center of it."
The assassins glanced at the squad—recognition flickering in their eyes. For a heartbeat, everyone froze, sizing each other up in the darkness.
Then, without warning, the green assassin leapt upward, vanishing into the shadows of the tunnel ceiling. The red assassin smirked, backing into a crimson portal that ripped open behind her.
And just like that—both were gone.
The squad stood tense, weapons raised, the tunnel silent once more.
The captain lowered his rifle, grim. "They're not just fighting for territory anymore. They're hunting."
He looked at his wrist bangle, the faint glow of its protective sigils.
"And I've got a feeling the kid doesn't know just how deep he's in."
Chapter 9 – The Gym Standoff
The air in the gym quivered with tension.
Jack stood frozen in the center of the hardwood floor, Iris blazing at one end with her crimson sword, the Green Griffins fanning out with their emerald weapons, and the black-clad cops forming a line at the doors with glowing plasma rifles.
Every breath sounded like thunder in the silence.
The Griffin leader's scarred face twisted into a grin. "Cops… always late to the party." His glaive sparked green fire as he spun it casually. "This isn't your fight."
The captain stepped forward, visor glinting in the harsh lights. His rifle didn't waver. "Everything in this city is my fight. Drop your weapons and disperse—before I test what these bangles can really do."
The word bangles made both Iris and the Griffins stiffen. Their eyes darted to the metal bands wrapped around the officers' wrists. Recognition. Wariness. Almost fear.
Jack's mind reeled. Wait—cops have bangles too?
Iris snarled, stepping protectively closer to Jack. "Stay behind me," she hissed in Japanese, her accent sharp, her voice trembling with both fury and something else—fear for him.
The Griffins tightened their circle. Their leader laughed. "Looks like we've got ourselves a four-way standoff. Dragon. Bird. Boy. Dogs of the state." His eyes flicked to Jack. "The question is—who bleeds first?"
The silence shattered.
One Griffin lunged—straight for Jack.
Iris roared, her sword igniting into a column of fire that split the air, slashing the assassin back. At the same instant, a cop fired his plasma rifle, the blast searing past Jack's shoulder and knocking another Griffin into the bleachers.
Chaos exploded.
The Griffins attacked from every angle, green fire and steel clashing with crimson flame and blue plasma bolts. The gymnasium filled with smoke and sparks, banners catching fire, the scoreboard exploding as stray energy ripped through it.
Jack staggered, ducking and weaving as assassins and cops battled over his head. His bangle pulsed faster, hotter, glowing so bright it lit his chest through his uniform shirt.
He stumbled to the floor, clutching it, eyes wide. Make it stop, make it stop—
But the bangle didn't stop. It erupted.
A wave of invisible force rippled outward from Jack, knocking everyone off their feet—Griffins, cops, even Iris. Weapons clattered to the floor. For a breathless moment, silence reigned, broken only by the hum of Jack's bangle as it glowed like a miniature sun.
Everyone stared.
The captain whispered, "…It's him."
The Griffin leader rose slowly, his eyes burning with greed. "The boy isn't just a target. He's the key."
Jack's vision blurred. He could barely breathe. The gym spun around him.
And then—like a cruel joke—the fire alarms blared. Sprinklers erupted overhead, raining water across the battlefield. Sparks hissed from shorted-out wires.
The Griffins cursed, vanishing into smoke. Iris grabbed Jack by the arm, pulling him toward the exit. The cops shouted for them to stop, but she didn't listen.
Jack stumbled beside her, drenched, heart racing. He glanced back once—at the cops' glowing bangles, at the captain's unreadable stare—and then the gym doors slammed shut behind them.
The standoff was over.
But war had just begun.
The Subway Clash
The tunnel was alive with shadows and sparks. The red assassin hurled streams of flame across the cracked concrete, while the green warrior slashed arcs of lightning with his glaive. The two clashed with godlike force, each strike shaking the abandoned tracks.
The cops spread out, bangles glowing.
The sharpshooter raised his wrist, releasing another energy net that spiraled outward in a glowing lattice. It wrapped around the green assassin, who snarled and tore against it like a beast in chains.
"Got him!" the sharpshooter yelled.
But then the assassin laughed. A dark, guttural sound. "You think this can hold me?" His glaive blazed, emerald lightning shredding through the net like paper.
He blurred forward. Too fast. Too close.
The sharpshooter froze as the glaive arced for his neck.
The captain lunged—slamming his own bangle against the assassin's weapon.
BOOM.
The tunnel erupted with light.
For a moment, the assassin and captain were locked in a clash of raw force, the bangle glowing bright against the glaive's lightning. The captain's boots dug trenches into the concrete as the assassin pressed down with inhuman strength.
Then the bangle flared—an ancient sigil burning across its surface. The glaive recoiled as if struck by an invisible hammer, hurling the assassin backward into the wall.
The green warrior snarled, clutching his weapon. His eyes narrowed at the captain's bangle. "…So the legends are true."
Before the squad could press the advantage, both assassins moved at once—the red one slamming her sword into the ground, unleashing a wave of fire, while the green one carved open a spiraling portal of emerald light.
They vanished into it, leaving only scorched steel and silence.
The squad regrouped, shaken but alive.
The sharpshooter exhaled shakily. "If it wasn't for your bangle, I'd be—"
The captain cut him off, holstering his rifle. His voice was low, grim. "Don't thank me. Thank the boy."
They all looked at their wrists, at the glowing sigils pulsing faintly.
Because deep down, every cop in that tunnel knew the same truth.
Their bangles didn't exist to protect them.
They existed because of him.
Morning After the Gym War
The next morning, sunlight streamed over the schoolyard like nothing had ever happened.
The gymnasium stood pristine, not a scorch mark or shattered bleacher in sight. The scoreboard shone as if brand new, the banners hung without a wrinkle, and the polished wood floor gleamed. No fire. No battle scars. No trace of the war that had nearly destroyed it hours ago.
Students laughed and gossiped in the courtyard, carrying books and coffee cups, as if nothing had happened.
Jack stood in the middle of it all, frozen.
His eyes swept the gym windows, the basketball hoop, the walls he had seen burning just last night. They were perfect. Clean. Untouched. His heart hammered.
It was real. I know it was real. I almost died in there… I saw Iris bleed, I saw the Griffins, the cops—
"Morning, Jack!"
He spun. A classmate waved cheerfully, oblivious. No fear. No whispers about fire alarms or explosions. Nothing.
Jack's palms were slick with sweat. His bangle, hidden beneath his sleeve, pulsed faintly against his wrist like a heartbeat.
Ghost leaned casually against the lockers a few steps away, watching him. She looked calm, even smug, but her eyes carried that same hidden storm. She gave the faintest shake of her head—don't talk here.
At the far end of the hall, Iris walked with her friends, laughing like an ordinary girl. She tossed her red hair, her smile dazzling, her voice light. But the way her eyes slid to Jack—just for a second, sharp and knowing—made his stomach clench.
She remembered.
They all remembered.
Only the ordinary students, the bystanders, were trapped in the illusion.
Jack felt like he was going insane.
The clang of the bell snapped him back. He moved numbly toward class, every step echoing with the haunting truth: the battlefield reset every morning.
But the war was still raging, just beneath the surface.
And he was caught in its center.
Chapter 10 – The Truth of the Bangles
The rooftop wind howled like a restless spirit, tugging at Jack's jacket and whipping Ghost's dark cloak around her. The city glittered below, calm and oblivious, while inside him, the storm churned.
Ghost's fingers lingered near his bangle, and Jack could feel its warmth pulsing against his skin—like a second heartbeat that wasn't his own.
"You're not like them," Ghost repeated, her voice low, measured, almost reverent. "Not like me. Not like Iris. You're something else. Something older."
Jack tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. "Older? What are you talking about?"
Her gaze cut through him, sharp and piercing. "You think these clans sprang up overnight? No. They were born from a war older than your bloodline, older than this city, older than the stars you see above you. And your bangle—" She touched it gently, and it flared with blue light, symbols unraveling across its surface. "—is the last remnant of that war."
The glow spread, and suddenly Jack wasn't just seeing Ghost—he was seeing something else.
The Vision
The rooftop dissolved. Darkness swallowed him whole, then bloomed into a vision so vivid he stumbled. He stood in a vast battlefield under a storm-torn sky.
Ten armies clashed in chaos, each marked by banners of crimson, azure, emerald, silver, and more. Dragons roared overhead, phoenixes screamed as their wings lit the air aflame. Shadows moved like liquid, griffins dived, cyclones tore the earth apart.
And at the center—
A figure.
Faceless. Blinding. Cloaked in ten layers of light, each shifting like the aura of a different clan.
This figure wielded a weapon that was no mere blade or gun—it was all weapons at once, shifting shape with every strike: a dragon's fang, a phoenix feather blade, a griffin's talon-spear. Each swing tore reality apart.
The clans fell before it. Their proud assassins—dragons, phoenixes, shadows, and storms alike—bowed or broke.
The faceless figure was unstoppable.
Until ten elders rose. Each one bled their life-force into a single artifact: a glowing chain of bracelets. Ten bangles, bound as one.
They shackled the figure.
Chains of fire. Chains of water. Chains of storm. Chains of shadow.
And as the figure screamed—a sound that was both human and monstrous—the ten elders sealed it away. The bangles fell into the void of time, scattered, hidden.
The war ended.
But the clans never forgot. They swore oaths:
To hunt the bangles if they surfaced. To slay the chosen who bore them. To never again let one being hold all their powers.The Return
The vision shattered. Jack gasped and fell to his knees on the rooftop, clutching his wrist. The bangle pulsed furiously, almost in pain, almost… alive.
Ghost knelt beside him, steadying him with a hand. Her voice was soft, but carried a weight that bent the night around it.
"That, Jack, is why they're hunting you. You carry not just a weapon. You carry the seal of the first assassin. The mirror of all clans. The war they buried in myth—"
"—is about to start again," Jack finished, his voice trembling.
Ghost's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't correct him.
Jack's mind reeled. His body still shook from the vision—the screams, the fire, the chains. "So what am I supposed to do? Run? Hide? Give it to someone else?"
Ghost's hand tightened on his shoulder, firm and unyielding. "You can't run. You can't hide. And you can't give it away. That seal chose you. The moment it bonded, the war had already begun."
Jack's pulse thundered in his ears. He wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh at the absurdity. He was sixteen. He had classes, exams, crushes, detention. He wasn't meant to carry something that entire clans feared.
Ghost's eyes softened then, her voice barely a whisper. "I won't lie to you. Every one of them will come for you. Some to kill, some to claim. And Iris…"
Jack looked up sharply. "…What about Iris?"
Ghost hesitated, her jaw tightening. "She's the most dangerous of them all. Because she doesn't just want the seal."
The night went still, as if waiting for her to finish.
"She wants you."
Jack's breath caught, his thoughts spinning. Iris's laughter in the hallway, her burning eyes in battle, the way she looked at him as if she already owned him.
He shivered.
The seal pulsed again. Stronger. Louder.
And for the first time, Jack wondered if he could feel the chains breaking.
Chapter 11 – Whispered Crowns
Behind the gymnasium, the air tasted of iron. Iris' crimson eyes narrowed as she studied Jack.
"You saw it, didn't you?" she asked in English, voice low.
Jack swallowed. "Saw what?"
She smirked. Then, without warning, she shifted.
「幻を見たでしょう.」(You saw the vision, didn't you?) – in Japanese.
Jack blinked. He shouldn't have understood. Yet the words slid into his brain as if they were his own thoughts.
"I—" He caught himself before answering in the same tongue.
Iris tilted her head, watching him. Then she switched again.
"你见过真正的战争." (You saw the real war.) – in Chinese.
Jack's chest tightened. He understood perfectly. Why can I understand this?
Finally, she leaned closer, her lips near his ear, and whispered in Russian:
«Она показала тебе их ложь, не так ли?» (She showed you their lie, didn't she?)
Jack's pulse hammered. He clenched his fists to keep from blurting the answer in Russian.
Iris smiled. She had caught the flicker in his eyes.
"Ghost told you the bangles are chains." She slid her hand across his wrist, fingers brushing the glowing metal. "But I tell you, Jack… they are not chains. Они короны. They are crowns."
He shivered.
Her fingers tightened around him. "You are not their prisoner. You are their king."
Jack's lips parted, but no words came.
Then Iris leaned closer, crimson hair brushing his cheek, and whispered in flawless Latin:
"Cor meum est tuum." (My heart is yours.)
Jack's breath caught.
Her lips hovered dangerously close to his. "Choose me, Jack. Choose to rise. And I'll stand by your side… not as your assassin, but as your queen."
Chapter 12 – Between Chains and Crowns
That night, the rooftops hummed with tension. Ghost stood opposite Iris, blue light against red flame. Jack was trapped between them.
Ghost's eyes narrowed. She switched into Japanese without looking at him:
「彼を誘惑するな.」(Don't seduce him.)
Iris laughed, replying in Chinese:
"他已经属于我了." (He already belongs to me.)
Jack's heart pounded. They don't want me to understand… but I do.
Ghost hissed in Russian:
«Ты используешь его!» (You're using him!)
Iris smirked, her reply smooth, in Arabic:
"هو اختارني بالفعل." (He's already chosen me.)
Jack clenched his teeth. His head ached from the flood of meaning. He didn't just understand the words—he felt the intent behind them.
"Stop!" he shouted, but the two assassins ignored him, circling each other like predators.
Iris whispered something sharp in Japanese—
「彼はまだ眠っている.」(He is still asleep.)
—and before Jack could stop himself, he snapped back in perfect Japanese:
「俺は眠ってなんかいない!」 (I'm not asleep!)
Silence.
Both Ghost and Iris froze. Their eyes widened.
Jack staggered back, realizing too late what he'd said. His mouth trembled. "I… I don't know how—"
Ghost's sword gleamed with cold blue fire. "Jack… you're awakening."
Iris' crimson smile widened, triumphant. "I knew it. The tongues of the clans… all of them belong to you."
Jack's chest heaved. His bangle pulsed with furious light, whispering in languages he didn't know—Greek, Sanskrit, tongues older than time.
And the cops, watching from their distant rooftop, finally understood what they were dealing with.
"This kid…" the captain muttered. "He's the key. Not just to their war—but to ending it."
Rooftop Inferno
The city was quiet but for the hiss of neon and the hum of power lines. Jack stood frozen between two flames—blue and red.
Ghost's blade shimmered like frozen lightning, inscriptions glowing in alien script. Iris' crimson sword roared alive, runes crawling across its edge like serpents.
"Get behind me," Ghost barked.
Jack didn't move.
Iris smirked. "He doesn't belong to you." Her voice was honeyed venom. Then, switching to Mandarin, she hissed:
"他永远不会站在你这边." (He'll never stand on your side.)
Ghost snapped back in Russian:
«Ты его губишь!» (You'll ruin him!)
Jack staggered. His ears rang, but every word carved itself clear.
High above, shadows shifted. Scouts from Green Griffin perched on a billboard, whispering in Arabic:
"الطفل يستمع… حتى الآن." (The boy is listening… even now.)
From the opposite rooftop, a pair of Black Vipers in masks exchanged words in German:
"Er versteht alles… unmöglich." (He understands everything… impossible.)
Jack clutched his head. Why can I understand this?
The battle below erupted — blue against red, steel against flame. Sparks rained across the roof. Their strikes carried the weight of centuries.
Iris swept in, blade aimed for Ghost's chest. Ghost twisted, parried, and spat in Japanese:
「お前は彼を道具にしているだけだ.」 (You're just using him.)
Jack's lips moved before he could stop himself:
「俺は誰の道具でもない!」 (I'm no one's tool!)
Everything froze. Ghost and Iris turned, staring at him with equal shock.
The assassins on the rooftops muttered in panic, dozens of languages overlapping like a storm — Swahili, French, Sanskrit, even dead tongues — yet Jack's mind translated them all at once.
The bangle on his wrist pulsed with furious light. Ancient voices hissed in unison:
"The Seal is breaking."
Jack fell to his knees as the rooftop exploded into chaos.
Chapter 13 – The Cops' Intervention
The next morning should have been normal. It wasn't.
Jack barely made it to school before black vans sealed off the block. Men and women in plainclothes stepped out, each with a faintly glowing bangle at their wrist. Their leader, Captain Rourke, locked eyes with him.
"You," he said flatly.
Jack froze.
The cops closed in. One murmured into an earpiece in Russian:
«Объект найден.» (Target acquired.)
Another tapped her wrist bangle, muttering in Morse code blips so fast it sounded like static. Jack's heart dropped — because he understood.
They're saying: "Prepare containment. He's waking up."
Jack's throat went dry.
The captain studied him with sharp, tired eyes. "You hear us, don't you? Every word. Every code."
Jack didn't answer.
The captain raised his wrist, showing his own bangle. Unlike the assassins', his was cracked, scarred — yet glowing faintly green.
"These were forged from the same fire that made yours," Rourke said. "But we're not players in their war, boy. We're the cleanup crew. We've been erasing their messes for decades. And now…" His gaze hardened. "Now you show up, the first one to understand them all."
Jack's pulse thundered. "What do you want from me?"
Rourke sighed. "Not want. Need. If you don't control this, kid… those voices will tear you apart. And when you break, so does the seal."
Behind them, the sky shimmered faintly. Red and blue sparks crackled across the clouds — Ghost and Iris were still fighting, the war bleeding into the morning air.
Rourke's words cut like a blade:
"You're the key, Jack. To ending this war. Or starting it all over again."