I will use two perspectives in the chapter, with special markers for transitions:
For perspective shifts: ( ••• )
For 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 city is exhaling its last breath.
Underfoot, the ground is covered with burnt debris, the ruins of buildings collapsed under the weight of hell. Every step on this wreckage emitted a muffled creak.
Every breath I took stung my lungs. The air was heavy, as if the city itself refused to grant me life.
Beneath my feet, the debris groaned, and echoes of collapse
reverberated in my ears like screams from the past.
I could see nothing but endless falling ash, until I began to think the sky itself had burned.
And yet I stood atop the rubble, towering like a beast freed from its chains.
A dark Hok aura burst from my body as if it were a breathing curse, crushing the earth and air.
With a slight pressure of my will, the soldiers around me collapsed, their bones breaking under the suffocating weight.
In my grip, the corpses dangled like tattered dolls, and on my face was a smile of someone who finally found freedom in the darkness of ruin.
But my ecstasy was overturned
A flash of light cut through the air, a thin sword strike but loaded with incredible power—fzzzz!
The blade pierced the Hok aura surrounding me as if tearing through worn fabric, and the scene exploded with a chilling coldness splash!
My surrounding shadows easily blocked the strike.
I slowly turned... directing my gaze toward her.
A woman.
She walked steadily over the rubble, her long white hair dancing with the wind, and her blue eyes gleamed like an ocean under sunlight.
Her appearance alone was enough to freeze the air around her.
A smile split my face.
"Oh… look who we have here."
She raised her sword toward me and declared in an emotionless voice, as if a destined judgment:
"Here ends your savagery."
Then, without warning, she rushed at me with a speed that broke vision, and her sword rained down in 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 on me without pause.
Every movement sliced the air, almost breaking the void itself.
I moved swiftly, 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. That's disappointing."
I said it quietly.
While I dodged another strike, her sword sliced the air near my head.
Her eyebrows knit together, and she clenched her teeth, her white fingers gripping the sword's hilt fiercely.
"Stupid... and weak too."
Words reminding me of myself this was strange.
This was the first thing I felt.
The blade surged, tearing through the Hok like a scream through silence."
I barely managed to raise my shadow to block the attack, and its metallic echo resonated between us.
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 my sight.
There was only a brief void before I felt a violent force hit my head.
A sudden, fast kick, hitting its target precisely, sending me flying through the air, my body breaking through building remains, smashing walls, and shards scattering in all directions.
The sound of collapse echoed around, and sparks of fire danced among the rubble, while silence reigned for moments, as if the world held its breath, waiting for what would happen.
I must kill him quickly.
That was the only idea 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, sudden pain swept over him, and drops of blood scattered in the air.
His heartbeat accelerated, and within seconds, his thoughts froze on a single 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 formed on her lips as her fist tightened on the sword's hilt embedded in his body.
She spoke words like a stab, as steady as the sword:
"Your time is up."
Her sharp voice awakened something inside him, a sound he could no longer ignore this time.
He heard it unknown. It was clear, brief, without any emotion.
"Run."
•••
I didn't 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 focus.
The pain scattered the fog of my thoughts for a moment, my eyes met my opponent's again.
I remained still, smiling quietly, the pain in my chest was present, but it didn't distract me this time.
The shadows began to ripple around me, emerging from nowhere, like black arms crawling slowly, slowly wrapping around my body.
Despite the pain that pierced me, my voice flowed coldly with a dark expression on my face:
"You are not the one who decides the end..."
They wrapped around my body like snakes, trying to pull the sword embedded in me, but his words pierced the silence like a malicious sarcasm:
"See you later."
•••
From her eyes, the world looked colder
His words echoed in the surroundings.
The woman tightened her grip on the sword, trying to do something, but the resistance increased, as if it clung to the blade to prevent her from finishing what she started.
"Scoundrel."
Morga faded as if his star had gone out, leaving behind a void that devoured every sound.
Her thoughts scattered.
What is happening? 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, her breath echoing mingled 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..."
She muttered between her teeth, and her 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 Morga disappeared, and silence wrapped her like a cold cloak.
The air carried the remains of ash dancing in the faint light, while the thin ice beneath her feet cracked slowly.
The silence was broken by the sound of quick footsteps, followed by a heavy presence.
A tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing dark armor, approached her, his eyes examining her with obvious concern.
"Lord... are you alright?"
She remained still for a moment, not turning, not blinking.
The cold aura surrounding her intensified, like 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:
"Lady, 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'm fine," she replied in a steady voice, but it carried a sharp firmness beneath. "We must find him before he harms the public..."
"All right, we will be ready soon."
He paused as if searching for more words, but in the end, he bowed slightly in respect and stepped back, content with the silence that once again enveloped the place.
She stood as if the whole world had frozen around her.
But what she did not know was that all this had started hours ago, in a dark room...
––––––––––––
Hours earlier.
––––––––––––
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, restrained like a chained beast, his arms not tied but his mouth covered with a piece of metal like a dog or something similar.
The man spoke in a calm voice.
"It's been a long time, Morga..."
The voice was not only heard in the room but cut directly into the boy's ears through an internal speaker, louder than natural sound, designed to pierce the skull and awaken the instinct.
The other was there in the middle of the room, immersed in half shadows dancing on his face due to the surrounding device lights.
He did not move, but his eyes worked with a sharpness no less than surgical 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... as if he was staring directly into the eyes of that man behind the screens, silently challenging, speaking in 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 sarcastic... but that 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 judgment, a fixed truth in a world swallowed by chaos.
He stared at the screen, into those eyes fixed on the lens, reading something others did not see.
An unspoken challenge, a silent battle that began with a look and would end unexpectedly.
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.
––––––––––––––––––
Present time, Morga.
––––––––––––––––––
A narrow, dark alley, pierced by neon lights from worn signs above, overwhelmed by the city's noise, as if it did not care that someone was dying in its corner.
I staggered, leaning against the wall, bloodstains smudging my clothes and face.
My breathing was broken, mixed with cold steam coming from my mouth, and my whole body trembled as if it too was trying to escape me.
I looked at my bleeding chest, inspecting the wound as if it were a stranger to me, still not comprehending what happened.
Drops of blood slowly flowed, staining the dirty ground.
I spoke with a voice carrying some pain:
"That damn."
I ran my hand over the wound, pressing it slightly, then exhaled with frustration. I did not expect it to be this fast... or this precise.
Finally, I 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 depths 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 that enveloped 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 staggering consciousness.
I slowly raised my head, turning it with difficulty. For a moment, I did not comprehend what my eyes saw.
Then, my pupils widened, and surprise mixed with fear. Something deep inside told me what I saw could not be real... yet, it stood there.
Standing there, with the same cold stance I was used to seeing, 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.
Is this his past coming to haunt him, or did the wound unbalance his grip on 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 drawn on his lips like a scar.
"Good job, you survived."
•••
Morga staggered, retreating with heavy steps, his feet betraying him, but his eyes remained fixed on him, examining him with muted despair, as if searching for a
small clue... for anything to confirm he was not himself.
"Aaaaaaah."
A loud scream burst from Morga's throat, his body convulsed, and his hands gripped 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 won't let you... take me back to that hell."
"Don't worry... you're already inside it."
His words were not a threat but a cold truth, devoid of any mercy.
The man disappeared for a moment, then appeared in front of Morga, very close.
Before Morga 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 spoke in a low voice, barely audible, but it pierced the silence like a needle:
"Sweet dreams,... boy."
And at that moment, everything vanished. The ground shook beneath Morga's feet, and his vision faded into sudden emptiness.
He fell.
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Lyoshi: Thank you for reading.