I have also maintained the formatting with the indicated symbols for perspective ( • • • ) and time shifts (–––).
The ash falls from the sky like dead rain
The air is saturated with the smell of fire, burnt flesh, as if
the place is exhaling its last breaths.
Underfoot, the ground is covered with charred debris, ruins of buildings collapsed under the weight of hell, the trees around the place wrapped in flames devouring them.
Every step on this wreckage emitted a muffled creak.
Every breath I took stung my lungs, burning them. The air was heavy, as if the area itself refused to grant me life.
Beneath my feet, the debris groaned, and the echoes of collapse reverberated in my ears like cries from the past.
I saw nothing but endless falling ash, until I began to think the sky itself had burned.
And yet I stood on the rubble, towering like a beast freed from its chains.
A curse burst from me, breathing, a dark Hok crushing everything around it.
With a slight pressure of my will, the soldiers around me collapsed, their bones breaking under the suffocating pressure.
In my grip, the corpses dangled like worn-out dolls, and on my face was a smile of someone who finally found freedom in the darkness of ruin.
But my intoxication flipped.
A flash of light cut through the air, a thin sword strike but loaded with unbelievable power, fzzzz!
The blade pierced the Hok aura surrounding me as if tearing old cloth, and the scene exploded with chilling coldness – splat!
Yet my surrounding shadows easily blocked the strike.
I slowly turned... directing my gaze toward her.
A woman.
She walks steadily over the rubble, her long white hair dancing with the wind, and her blue eyes shining like an ocean under sunlight.
Her appearance alone was enough to freeze the air around her.
A smile splits my face.
"Oh... look who we have here."
She raised her sword toward me and declared in an emotionless voice, as if a fate decreed upon me:
"Here ends your barbarity."
Then, without warning, she launched at me with a speed that broke vision, and her sword rained down on me with a crushing blow, forcing me to block the attack with all my strength, while sparks of clashing energy flew around us like tiny meteors.
The white woman surged like a snowy Hok storm, her black sword gleaming under the gray sky, and her strikes rained down on me relentlessly.
Every move split the air, almost shattering the void itself.
I moved quickly, surpassing her strikes, transforming my hand into a sword of shadows.
Her eyes widened in shock when she saw it.
I spoke in a sarcastic tone:
"Stupid... and weak too. Disappointing."
I said it quietly.
While I dodged another strike, her sword pierced the air near my head.
Her eyebrows knitted, she clenched her teeth, her white fingers gripping the sword handle fiercely.
She looked at me with disdain, her eyes sparking, before she spoke with biting sarcasm:
"You are such a foolish and stupid Kaizo."
Those words were like a slap, carrying a mix of anger and mockery, as if punishing him for a crime he did not yet understand.
Kaizo...? What is this fool talking about?
I raised my eyebrow in surprise, stopping at her words that seemed strange to me, as if they came from a mouth that does not belong to this reality.
He raised his eyebrows in astonishment, stopped by her strange words, as if they were spoken from another world whose meanings he does not yet grasp.
Her strike came fast, and the blade tore the Hok toward me.
I barely managed to raise my shadow to block the attack, its metallic echo resonated between them.
I stepped back, staring at her, her gaze sharp and her body ready for the next attack.
Suddenly, in a fleeting moment, she vanished from before my eyes.
There was only a brief void before I felt a violent force hit my head.
A sudden kick, fast, hitting its target precisely, sending me flying through the air, my body piercing the remains of buildings, smashing walls, and scattered shards in every direction.
• • •
Perspective, the narrator.
• • •
The sound of collapse echoed around, and sparks of fire danced among the rubble, while silence reigned for moments, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for what would happen.
She must kill him quickly.
This is the only thought that came to her mind.
Before he could even think of moving, the sword cut through his body, piercing his chest and back, crashing into the ground.
His eyes widened, a sudden pain swept him, and drops of blood scattered in the air.
His heartbeat accelerated, and within seconds, his thoughts froze on one question: How did this happen?
How did the roles reverse so quickly?
He was the hunter, confident in his steps, and now he was the prey, his body trapped between her blade and her piercing gaze.
A cold smile appeared on her lips, while her fist tightened on the sword handle embedded in his body.
She spoke words like a stab, steady as the sword:
"Your time is over."
Her sharp voice awakened something inside him, a voice he could no longer ignore, this time.
• • •
Perspective, Morgha.
• • •
The voice was unknown. It was clear, brief, without any emotion.
"Run."
I did not know the owner of the voice, and I had no time to think.
The taste of blood filled my mouth, and its heat brought me back to my focus. Pain scattered the fog in my thoughts for a moment, my eyes met my opponent again.
I remained still, smiling quietly, the pain in my chest was present, but it did not distract me this time.
Shadows began to ripple around me, emerging from nothing, like black arms crawling slowly, wrapping around my body slowly.
Despite the pain piercing me, my voice flowed coldly and calmly with a dark expression on my face:
"You are not the one who decides the end..."
They coil around my body like snakes, trying to pull out the sword embedded in me, but his words pierced the silence like a malicious sarcasm:
"See you later."
• • •
Perspective, the narrator.
• • •
His words echoed around.
The woman tightened her grip on the sword, trying to do something, but his resistance increased, as if holding the blade to prevent her from finishing what she started.
"Filthy bastard."
Morgha vanished as if his star had gone out, leaving behind a void that devoured every sound.
Her thoughts scattered.
What is happening? Has he disappeared?
Her eyes scanned the shattered arena, searching for any trace of him.
But silence was the master of the place, and little by little, the glow of her weapon dimmed, while she stood alone amid the rubble.
She sighed deeply, and the echo of her breath mixed with the smoke rising from the ruins.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and her thoughts flooded with a sea of anger and frustration.
"Damn it..."
She muttered between her teeth, and the grip on her sword loosened.
She looked at the darkness that surrounded her moments ago, at the void he left behind, and that sarcastic smile still etched in her memory.
She stood in place, her eyes fixed on the void where Morgha disappeared, and silence wrapped her like a cold cloak.
The air carried remnants of ash dancing in the faint light of the blue moon, while the thin ice beneath her feet cracked slowly.
The silence was broken by the sound of fast footsteps, followed by a heavy presence. A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing dark armor approached her, his eyes examining her with visible concern.
"Lord Iria... are you alright?"
She remained still for a moment, not turning, not even blinking.
The cold aura surrounding her intensified, as if it were an invisible wall protecting her from anything... even worry itself.
But he did not retreat, he took another step forward, and his voice became more urgent:
"Madam, are you hurt?... That boy..."
Only then did she slowly raise her head and turn to him.
Her eyes were steady, cold as unmelted ice, and her facial features reflected only the usual icy calm.
"I am fine," she replied in a steady voice, but it carried sharp firmness beneath.
"We must find him before he harms the public..."
"Alright, we will be ready soon."
He paused as if searching for other words, but finally bowed slightly in respect and stepped back, content with the silence that once again settled over the place.
She remained standing as if the whole world had frozen around her.
But what she did not know was that all this started hours ago, in a dark room...
–––––––———————–—
Hours earlier, Antarix Base.
––––––––––———————
In a dimly lit room, crowded with wires and screens, the air was still, saturated with the smell of metal and drugs.
A broad-shouldered man stood, watching one of the screens with deadly focus. On the screen appeared a boy, chained like a beast, his embrace did not restrain him, and his mouth was covered with a piece of metal as if he were a dog or something similar.
The man said in a calm voice:
"It has been a long time, Morgha..."
The voice was not heard only in the room, but it also cut directly into the boy's ears through an internal speaker, louder than normal, designed to penetrate the skull and awaken the instinct.
The other was there in the middle of the room, immersed in half shadows flickering on his face due to the surrounding device lights. He did not move, but his sharp eyes worked with a precision no less than surgical scalpel blades.
He slowly turned his gaze to the camera... the same camera the man was watching the exhausted boy from. It was not a passing glance, but focused, sharp, almost piercing the lens itself.
As if he knew someone was watching... rather, as if he was staring directly into the eyes of that man behind the screens, silently challenging, with a silence that words could not interpret.
He was like a living ghost, waiting for the moment of intervention.
Or explosion.
Amid the silence filled with anticipation, the voice came from behind him, calm, but that hidden tone of annoyance did not escape his ear.
"Will you really free him?"
The man smiled, but his smile was not ordinary. It was neither warm nor even mocking... but the smile that comes when one feels the pleasure of the hunt before it begins.
"Don't worry... everything will go as I want."
His words were calm but loaded with the weight of absolute confidence, a tone that left no room for argument. The voice was not just a promise but a ruling, a fixed fact in a world engulfed by chaos.
He stared at the screen, into those two steady eyes on the lens, reading something in them others did not see. An unspoken challenge, a silent battle that started with a look, and will end with what no one expects.
He rested his palm on the table in front of him and leaned slightly, as if approaching the boy on the other side of the digital world.
"Today... you will become free, my little beast."
With those words, the sound of metal shattering echoed, and the chains collapsed to the ground like autumn leaves dropped by the winds of freedom.
–––––––––––––—————
Current time, Shizklar City.
–––––––––––––—————
A narrow, dark alley, pierced by neon lights from worn signs above, the city's noise rising, as if it did not care that someone was dying in its corner.
I staggered, leaning against the dilapidated wall of the building, bloodstains smearing my clothes and face.
My breathing was broken, mixed with cold steam coming from my mouth, and my whole body trembled as if it was trying to escape me itself.
I looked at my bleeding chest, inspecting the wound as if it were a stranger to me, still not comprehending what had happened. Drops of blood slowly flowed, staining the dirty ground.
I spoke with a voice containing some pain:
"That damn one."
I passed my hand over the wound, pressed it slightly, then exhaled sharply. I did not expect it to be this fast... or this precise.
I finally sat down, my back against the wall, as if the whole universe was pressing on my chest. I buried my hands in my sweat-and-blood-soaked hair and closed my eyes.
From the depth of the confusion in my chest, I spoke in a voice almost a whisper, cracked, lost between will and weakness:
"What should I do now...?"
Amid the thick fog dancing like ghosts, and the smell of mold enveloping the air, the sound of footsteps pierced the heavy silence. The sound was steady, approaching with confident steps, each step like a knock on the ground of my wavering consciousness.
I raised my head, turning slowly, my body groaning under the weight of pain and exhaustion, barely able to look at him. For a moment, I did not comprehend what my eyes saw. My pupils dilated, and surprise mixed with fear. Something deep inside told me what I saw could not be real... yet, he was standing there.
Standing there, with the same cold posture I used to see, but I was no longer sure if what I saw was real or if my exhausted mind was playing tricks on me.
Everything around me began to fade, the sounds blurred, and darkness danced at the edges of my vision.
• • •
Perspective, the narrator:
• • •
Is this his past coming to haunt him, or has the wound unbalanced him from reality?
The man approached him, his golden eyes shining with malice, his cloak flying lightly with every step he took, tilting his head slightly, and a sarcastic smile appeared on his lips like a scar.
"Well done, you survived."
Morgha staggered, retreating with heavy steps, his feet betraying him, but his eyes remained fixed on him, examining him with muffled despair, as if searching for a small proof... anything to confirm that he was not himself.
"Aaaaaaa."
A loud scream erupted from Morgha's throat, his body trembled, and his hands grasped his head. His vision blurred, shapes around him overlapped, and everything began to spin.
He said, his voice barely audible, as if choking on words:
"What... is this...?"
His voice came out like a muffled roar, as if tearing the silence with suppressed bitterness:
"I will not allow you... to take me back to that hell."
"Don't worry... you are already inside it."
His words were not a threat, but a cold fact, devoid of any mercy.
The man disappeared for a moment, then appeared in front of Morgha, very close. Before Morgha could comprehend what was happening, the man's fist struck his stomach. It was not a strong blow, but it knocked the air out of his lungs, and a sharp metallic taste spread in his mouth.
Blood flowed from his lips, bright red, drops scattered on the ground, and he remained motionless between pain and shock.
The man said in a low voice, barely audible, but piercing the silence like a needle:
"Sweet dreams,... boy."
At that moment, everything vanished. The ground shook beneath Morgha's feet, and his vision faded into sudden emptiness.
His body collapsed, hitting the wet ground, drowning in the void.
*
*
*
Liyoshi: Thanks for reading