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ARC: Back Attack Land
The alleyway smelled of stagnant rain and cheap tobacco.
A dozen Yakuza thugs stood under the flickering neon sign, their shadows stretching like jagged claws against the brick walls. In the center stood Akos.
He didn't look like a hero. He looked like a predator waiting for the first heartbeat of a hunt.
The first one rushed in, a scream dying in his throat as Akos stepped into his guard.
No wasted movement. Akos's fist drove into the man's solar plexus with the force of a hydraulic press.
The air left the thug's lungs in a sickening wheeze.
Behind him, a blade hissed. A katana sliced through the damp air, aiming for Akos's neck.
Akos didn't flinch. He launched himself upward, boots finding purchase on the chest of a nearby grunt.
With a brutal twist in mid-air, he delivered a spinning back-kick into the swordsman's spine.
CRACK.
The sound of vertebrae snapping echoed off the walls. The swordsman collapsed, his body slamming into his comrade in a heap of tangled limbs and muffled groans.
Another Yakuza lunged from the side, a wild hook aimed at Akos's jaw.
Akos leaned back—a fraction of an inch—letting the fist graze the air in front of his nose.
He countered with a lightning-fast roundhouse to the man's temple.
The thug's head snapped sideways. He didn't just fall; he was launched, his body skidding across the wet pavement like a discarded ragdoll.
Two more closed in. A coordinated pincer movement.
The one on the left threw a heavy straight. Akos slipped the punch, the wind of the strike whistling past his ear.
In one fluid motion, he buried his knuckles into the man's face, feeling the wet crunch of a nasal bone flattening under his hand.
He didn't wait for the body to hit the ground.
Akos dropped low, a sweeping kick shattering the second man's lead leg.
The thug buckled, his knee hitting the concrete with a dull thud.
THWACK.
A final, devastating straight punch to the center of the man's face ended the struggle. Blood sprayed the brickwork.
Akos turned his head slowly to the right.
A heavy-set man stood there, knuckles white as he gripped a metal baseball bat. He swung with desperation, the metal whistling a death tune.
Akos shifted his weight, his body swaying like a willow in a storm.
The bat missed by a hair's breadth.
The man roared, a primal, guttural scream of "AHHHHH!" as he poured every ounce of his fear into a flurry of strikes.
Akos moved through the storm with a haunting, effortless grace. A tilt of the head. A step to the left. A slight rotation of the hips.
The Yakuza was swinging at a ghost.
The man's lungs burned. His movements grew heavy, his spirit breaking under the weight of Akos's cold, unblinking gaze.
Akos saw the opening.
He stepped inside the arc of the bat, his arm uncoiling like a whip.
The punch connected flush with the man's jaw.
The sound was visceral—the sharp clink of enamel hitting the ground. Three teeth spiraled through the air, glinting under the neon light before bouncing into the gutter.
The man with the bat didn't even scream this time. He simply folded, his consciousness extinguished before his knees touched the dirt.
Akos stood alone in the silence, the only sound the rhythmic dripping of blood from his knuckles.
The rain hammered down, washing the metallic tang of blood into the gutters.
Akos turned his head to the right. Through the chaos, he saw Jin locked in a brutal struggle with Eito. Raindrops exploded against their skin as they traded blows. Bodies—both friend and foe—lay scattered across the red-stained concrete.
Akos looked at the carnage. His friends were falling. He closed his eyes, drawing a single, jagged breath.
When he opened them, the alley was gone.
The world was a furnace. Flames roared everywhere, licking at the sky. Blood wasn't just on the floor; it was the floor.
Akos spun around, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Who's there?"
In the distance, past the burning trees, two crimson eyes ignited in the darkness. They didn't speak. They didn't move.
Suddenly, the ground beneath Akos's feet vanished.
The Infinite Drop
He fell into a throat of absolute shadow. There was no wind, only the sensation of slipping through time itself.
THUD.
Akos hit a floor that shouldn't exist. As he struggled to his knees in the pitch-black void, orange eyes flickered to life, looming over him.
"Where am I? Who are you?" Akos gasped.
The figure stepped forward, the orange glow illuminating a terrifying face. "You are deep inside your body right now," the voice hissed.
"What do you mean?"
"I am a Devil," the entity grinned. "And you... you are my vessel."
"What kind of nonsense is this?" Akos spat.
"I am DEVILS END," the creature roared, clutching its own head in frustration. "And you are my VASSEL! I can't even control this body alone. I am a prisoner inside you. Ugh!"
Akos screamed into the void, "What are you talking about? Where am I? Why can't I see anything?"
"You are in the FAKE WORLD," Devils End sneered.
"Fake World?"
Devils End cursed under his breath, his eyes burning brighter. "To hell with those liars... Listen. The Fake World and the Real World exist on the same timeline, but things are changed. The year you think is 2019? That's a lie. The truth is 2013. There's so much more, but I'm too bored to explain. Let's just make a contract."
"A contract? What are you saying?" Akos backed away.
"I shouldn't even be telling you this," Devils End whispered, his voice like grinding stones. "But if you make a contract with me, I'll get you out of this Fake World."
"What are you saying? Who are you?" Akos's voice rose to a panicked shout. "I can't take this! My head... it's going to explode!"
The Price of Truth
In a blur of motion, Devils End was suddenly inches from him. A fist, wreathed in a suffocating orange aura, slammed into Akos's chest.
Akos was sent flying. As he hit the ground, the entire floor transformed into a sea of bubbling blood.
END. END. END. The words vibrated through the liquid.
"I will make you agree by force," Devils End growled.
Akos clutched his stomach, coughing up a mouthful of thick, dark blood. He looked up, his clothes soaked in gore. Before he could speak, the Devil lunged again.
A second punch, heavier and cloaked in a more violent aura, buried itself in Akos's gut.
He was launched across the void, tumbling over and over until he came to a stop, his body broken and bleeding.
Devils End walked over and gripped Akos by the face, lifting him effortlessly. "It's a pity," the Devil
mused. "There are no other Sorcerers left. Every single one of them is imprisoned inside the Fake World. I wanted so badly to fight you with your full power."
Akos's eyes fluttered open. He grabbed the Devil's wrist, his fingers trembling as he tried to pry the hand off his face.
Devils End's expression darkened. He slammed Akos back into the floor.
"For 9,000 years I have lived!" the Devil roared. "For 9,000 years I wanted to fight someone with everything I had... and they found this? In the end, I ended up stuck inside this body!"
"9,000 years..." Akos wheezed. "I don't know what you're saying. I don't know where I am. My memory... I can't control it."
"Of course you can't," Devils End smirked. "The Fake World erases your memory. But your NATURE ENERGY is too vast. It won't let you give up. One day—or perhaps on the very first day—you will break out of this fake world."
The Devil let go, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. "But I am here to make sure you don't. leave from Fake Wolrd ."
The ground dissolved once more. Akos fell back into the infinite, bottomless darkness.
Akos kept falling into the endless darkness.
Then, high above him, he saw it—a small blue flame, trembling faintly.
Suddenly—