TZARIA lay in a deep, heavy slumber beneath a cloak of pitch-black darkness.
The wind howled in mournful melodies… as if lamenting souls that had yet to be buried.
In front of the ORGANIZATION's headquarters, a missile-launch truck stood with its harsh white lights,
gleaming like the eye of a starving beast waiting for its prey.
BELL adjusted the launch angle with a crooked grin.
"Ready for the fireworks."
High above, on the branch of a tall tree,
MOHITO and SOLIMON observed in utter silence —
their eyes sharp as hawks, clear, unblinking.
SPLIMON whispered:
"The bird is in the nest."
BELL replied softly:
"And the trap is set."
BELL slammed his hand on the launch button with explosive enthusiasm:
"Showtime!"
Missiles burst forth like furious meteors, tearing the silence of the night,
lighting up the sky and the facility's front wall.
Inside, guards poured out like frightened ants.
OBASO, gripping the steering wheel, trembled nervously:
"This… this is the Ebb and Flow plan?!"
BELL shouted with sudden excitement,
"Isn't it a bold plan?!"
"I don't think so," OBASO shouted as he slammed the truck into gear, speeding away while dragging all the soldiers with him.
Across the perimeter, MOHITO and SULEIMAN caught the signal.
From a black case marked with a hazardous symbol,
MOHITO drew a sword —
a pitch-black blade streaked with glowing red lines like pulsating veins.
SOLIMON's eyes widened.
"What is that…?"
MOHITO answered coldly, not looking at him.
"An ancient gift,"
"We need to move."
He turned toward the ORGANIZATION's base.
SOLIMON followed, doubt clouding his gaze.
Together, they whispered:
"Level up."
And they launched forward simultaneously —
a pair of storms ripping through the darkness.
SOLIMON eyed the wall ahead.
"Throw me."
MOHITO crouched, forming a platform with his hands.
SOLIMON shot upward like an arrow.
"There are two guards."
He slid his thumb across the edge of his scythe.
"Erasure."
In an instant, both guards fell in two halves before their minds processed what happened.
OBASO worried aloud:
"Will they be alright…?"
BELL replied with concern, "I hope so."
But all he could think about in that moment… was MOHITO and the Black Blade.
On the other side, SOLIMON handed a card to MOHITO.
"Here's your access pass."
And they entered through the gate.
Two soldiers raised their rifles —
But MOHITO had already sliced them in half.
He lifted his blade toward the first soldier.
"Where are the captives?"
The soldier spat defiantly:
"In hell!"
MOHITO replied with icy indifference:
"Then join them."
One strike.
The head dropped silently.
He turned to the second soldier —
His eyes were glowing red, cold as a winter grave.
Terrified, the soldier stammered:
"They're… downstairs!"
"Get out of my sight."
MOHITO snapped.
He looked at SOLIMON:
"Go to the lower level. Free everyone. Then get out."
SOLIMON hesitated.
"And you?"
"I'll finish the mission. I need to find the person in the photo."
"This isn't the time for the mission! We need to escape!"
SOLIMON shouted.
MOHITO smiled at him —
a smile with no warmth.
"SOLI… Can you trust me?"
SOLIMON hesitated for a heartbeat—
But he knew time was no longer their ally.
He clenched his jaw.
"Damn it!"
Then he dashed downstairs.
*********
Inside the Operations Room
A soldier shouted:
"Sir! We've been breached!"
The man behind the desk snarled,
"How did those bastards survive the strike?!"
"Prep the helicopter. Activate facility self-destruct,"
He ordered.
Then he turned to the monitors…
And saw MOHITO walking calmly forward —
a specter of shadows, while the world around him collapsed.
"That's sword it's…" he whispered
*********
IN THE Lower Level
The air was thick — tasting of rust and damp.
Each step echoed like a warning through the narrow halls.
The moment SOLIMON stepped inside, red floodlights ignited.
Guards swarmed, rifles raised.
SOLIMON lowered his head, fingers brushing his scythe.
"Level up… 50 out of 75."
He shot forward like a spark from a blacksmith's hammer.
Bullets screamed through the air —
But he was faster than any flash.
His arm moved with surgical precision,
the scythe spinning, slicing through air,
deflecting bullets like an unseen shield.
A soldier tried to re-position—
SOLIMON appeared behind him.
One strike.
The body dropped.
Two others retreated —
But the scythe had already begun its second dance.
A quiet arc…
followed by an invisible hurricane.
No screams.
Only bodies are losing life.
He reached the final chamber —
a maze of cages and shadows.
He opened the first cage, but what he saw there made him in shock,
made him remember how cruel this world is
The first cage contained the corpse of a little girl.
Barely ten years old.
His jaw tightened.
He knelt and gently closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry that I was late," he whispered.
He shouted:
"Is anyone here?!"
A faint voice answered:
"SOLIMON … is that you?"
SOLIMON rushed toward the cage
He found THE HOUNDS suspended upside down.
He laughed in disbelief:
"What a ridiculous sight."
"Free us, you idiot!"
CLAY roared, furious.
Another voice whispered behind him:
"H…hello? Is someone there?"
In the last cage—
A half-naked girl, wrists bound in iron.
"Don't come closer!" she screamed.
Quietly, SOLIMON removed his mask, smiling gently.
"I'm not your enemy."
She approached cautiously.
He broke her shackles and draped his coat over her.
As he freed her, she whispered:
"My sister… they promised—"
She staggered toward another cage—
But, when SOLIMON caught sight of the cage, the girl was heading toward…
"Stop!" SOLIMON shouted, trying to stop her.
But he couldn't.
She already sows what SOLIMON sowed before.
She collapsed to her knees, screaming:
"No… no, no…"
Her sister's body lay inside.
"I did everything they wanted…
He promised he'd let her go…"
Her scream shattered even the hardest hearts.
Everyone lowered their heads.
Amid the girl's sobs that filled the entire basement as she clung to her sister with heartbreaking desperation.
She seized a fallen soldier's gun—
desperate to end her nightmare.
But SOLIMAN snatched it away.
"Let me go! LET ME GO!"
She sobbed, trembling violently.
"Why stop me?!"
"I don't know the depth of your suffering…
But I do know this is the wrong choice,"
SOLIMON said softly.
She froze—
looking at him through swollen, tear-filled eyes.
His expression was raw pain.
He understood her agony.
He gently lifted her hand,
placed it on his heart—
Then moved it to hers.
"Do you feel that?
This is called life.
You're alive for a reason…
even if you don't know it yet."
"I know that I don't have the right to tell you that, but…"
" Please… don't give up."
The girl's eyes shimmered,
as though warmth was slowly returning to her frozen body.
SOLIMON extended his hand to her, gently, and said in a comforting voice:
"Come on… let's get out of here."
She looked at his extended hand—
then gripped it as if holding a tiny flame of hope
in a room full of shadows.
He carried her on his back,
and they headed toward the exit.
In a world drowning in monsters… he chose to be human.
***********
But on the other side of the Rooftop, MOHITO was about to become something more than a monster.
The helicopter's rotors thundered,
fuel scent thick in the air.
The man in the formal suit stood beside it,
face tense, eyes fixed on the approaching shadow.
"Kill him."
His voice was steady—
But his hands trembled.
Soldiers lined up, raising their rifles at MOHITO.
HE stood still—
no words, no movement.
Only red, silent eyes
that cared for no living thing.
He whispered:
"Level up…"
He didn't finish.
His feet vanished.
No one saw how he moved.
Only what remained.
In less than a heartbeat—
Three heads burst from their shoulders.
One rolled.
Then another.
Then a third.
The air flickered with the sword's black shine.
Gunfire erupted—
But bullets flew through the space MOHITO had already left.
He walked among them in silence—
each strike precise, emotionless,
as if filing paperwork.
In seconds—
The rooftop went still.
Bodies everywhere.
The man in the suit turned pale,
stumbling backward toward the helicopter.
Then froze.
He looked down.
His legs—
were lying several feet away.
Blood poured warm beneath him.
MOHITO stood behind him,
not panting, not tired—
not even acknowledging him.
Just those eyes.
Eyes of something once human… now something else.
The man shrieked:
"Please! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Just let me—"
MOHITO spoke softly, lifelessly:
"You don't have the answer."
He raised the sword slowly—
giving the man time to understand—
One clean stroke.
The head fell.
Lifeless.
Meaningless.
"Mission complete,"
MOHITO whispered.
The rooftop doors burst open—
More soldiers are charging out.
The blood hadn't dried.
MOHITO hadn't even lowered his sword.
They saw:
• headless corpses
• blood still warm
• a man with a black sword…
who looked like he hadn't begun fighting yet.
"OPEN FIRE!!" The commander screams
Bullets flooded the air.
MOHITO didn't react—
not at first.
Then he moved.
Silently.
Like a shadow choosing its victims.
appeared behind a soldier—
a soft glide of the sword—
and the man collapsed before realizing he was dead.
Three sidesteps—
a gentle spin—
a shimmer—
another soldier fell…
and another…
They dropped in perfect rhythm,
as if death itself had arranged the order.
One soldier crawled away,
desperate to survive.
MOHITO walked past him—
not even looking.
He wasn't hearing the screams.
He was hearing something else.
A voice from deep inside:
"Give me more…"
"More…"
A light slash, effortless—
The crawling man went silent.
The commander tried to retreat,
lifting his rifle—
only for the barrel to split in two.
He stared at MOHITO.
"Wait! I can—"
There was no second sentence.
The blade slid into his chest—
slowly.
Calmly.
His eyes locked onto MOHITO's empty gaze
until the light left them.
The sword withdrew.
Silence reclaimed the rooftop.
Blood glistened in the helicopter's lights.
MOHITO wiped the blade on a dead soldier's vest—
a motion he'd performed countless times.
Then he turned toward the stairway.
The hallway knew—
Death was coming.
***********
At the Exit Door on the Lower Level
THE HOUNDS stood ready,
weapons raised,
prepared for the final fight.
CLAY whispered:
"Get ready…"
The door opened.
It wasn't an enemy.
It was MOHITO.
He strolled— His footsteps were silent, but they felt heavier than thunder.
And blood covering his face, hands, and clothes.
Not a single stain from one person—many, layered upon each other.
And in his hand—
The black sword.
Not held.
But worn—
as if he had been born with it.
THE HOUNDS froze.
Every eye fell on the BLACK BLADE.
Then on MOHITO.
Their eyes widened—
as if they'd seen a ghost from a nightmare long buried.
CLAY whispered, horrified:
"MO… that sword…
that's—"
MOHITO didn't look at them.
Didn't justify anything.
He said in a voice devoid of heartbeat:
"Get out… now."
The path outside was paved with corpses.
Each one testified to MOHITO's descent into the machine of death.
HE had awakened from his long sleep—
The true battle had already begun…but this time
It was inside him.