He woke up in darkness. His head heavy, his wrists bound behind the chair he'd been tied to.
The floor was damp. The same humidity as the alley, but there was also a stench of mold and cold meat.
He realized soon enough that the butcher had locked him in a cellar.
He tugged at the ropes again and again, but the bonds were far too tight to yield when he faintly heard soft footsteps.
He scanned the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, when something darted into his field of vision.
A white rat.
He recognized those eyes instantly, even in the pitch black.
— Neko…?
The same gaze as the cat from the alley. The rat climbed onto the chair and slowly began gnawing at the ropes.
Shinji didn't dare move, utterly baffled, but he let it happen.
A few minutes later, his wrists were free.
He leapt up, and the chair toppled instantly. The noise echoed through the room.
— What the hell are you doing in there?
The door swung open, and the butcher stormed into the cellar. Shinji knew the light flooding in from the open door would give him away, so he lunged at the butcher without thinking.
He drove a knee into the man's stomach, and the butcher staggered.
Shinji spotted the blade at his belt. The one he hadn't been able to use to save the young girl.
He grabbed it and fled; he snatched a piece of meat from the stall before sprinting away, not looking back, not thinking, barely breathing.
All he wanted was to escape and find the cat. It was all he had left in this world worse than hell, and he'd started to believe that the idea of a divine test might not be entirely ironic.
He raced up the street. He'd lost his bearings; night had swallowed the market. He turned left. Then right. And finally…
The alley. The one where the cat had to be waiting. It couldn't be otherwise; everything he'd just endured was to understand the cruelty of man. That logic was the only thing keeping his sanity intact.
He rushed into it at full speed.
— Neko! I've got what you wanted! I've—
But he stopped short. He scanned the entire alley with his eyes, but the cat was gone. He checked again, but still nothing.
— You weren't supposed to leave… I kept my word…
He felt something break inside him as he collapsed to his knees, which split open instantly, blood splattering across his legs.
Then he heard a growl behind him. Turning, he saw two dogs blocking the alley's entrance. The same dogs he'd seen earlier, with their gleaming fangs.
— I didn't think you'd go this far, a voice said.
The butcher was holding their leashes. He'd recovered from Shinji's blow with surprising ease.
He held a third chain. The dog it restrained was even larger, blacker, silent.
Shinji struggled, blade in hand. He could finally use it when his life was on the line. Like an animal driven by pure survival instinct.
The butcher released the chains of the first two dogs, which lunged at Shinji.
Though they managed to bite him, he overpowered them both after slashing their throats with his blade, a precision that felt natural to him.
— You killed two of my dogs… all I had left.
The butcher stopped a few meters away.
Shinji feigned indifference to the dogs' bites, but the pain was etched on his face. Sweat began to blur his vision.
— Give me the blade, and I'll let you die without pain. It doesn't belong in the hands of someone like you.
Shinji didn't respond and raised the blade instinctively. Because this time, his life depended on it.
His body trembled. His mind wavered. But he still stood.
— Don't come any closer.
The butcher raised an eyebrow at Shinji's desperate threats.
— You think I'm scared of you when I've witnessed the fall of hatred?
— What…?
The butcher began to release the final chain.
The dog leapt, and Shinji found himself once again at death's door.
Shinji stared death in the face again. He'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember when.
Though he felt a strange relief at the thought of not having to survive in a world where everyone seemed to keep a clear conscience despite their cruelty, his fear of death, of suffering, overwhelmed him.
Barely able to stand, his legs buckling under the weight of everything he'd endured, the dog lunged at him.
Its gleaming fangs, froth at its maw, muscles quivering with anticipation. It hadn't attacked yet. Not immediately.
The butcher caught the chain at the last second.
— You know what it's like… to watch your brother lose the only thing that kept him going? the butcher murmured.
— That blade… it was meant for him. Not for a nobody like you who knows nothing of hatred.
Those words echoed through the alley.
Shinji didn't respond; he no longer had the strength. Everything he'd been through, this unknown fate he had to endure. Only his madness kept him upright.
He looked up. The sky was still as gray, the clouds unmoving, as if this world had willed it so.
The moonlight was now the only glow Shinji could see, and nothing burned within him anymore.
He wanted to beg. But for what? For whom?
— …Mom… Dad…
His legs gave out.
Even his body had abandoned him, the cold stone biting into his bones.
He wanted to cry. But even his tears seemed to have forsaken him.
— Could I… see you again? In the afterlife?
He knew it was a cowardly illusion, hoping to find them when he couldn't even recall their faces.
Death wasn't foreign to him. He knew he'd already experienced it, and that was what had brought him to this world.
— So it wasn't a test, was it? I'm just in hell, aren't I? Shinji screamed.
— You're getting what you deserve. Kades was supposed to be next. Not you.
The butcher finally released the chain.
Shinji didn't have the strength to stand, his heart racing faster and his vision blurring as the dog leapt at him, jaws wide.
He thought he saw his death, but instead of fangs… he saw a silhouette.
A shadow descending from the sky. A man with red hair, his piercing gaze masking a deep, buried rage.
He stepped between Shinji and the dog without fear.
The clash was brutal. Despite the dog's sharp claws and gleaming fangs, he subdued it with ease.
— Move, you idiot! he shouted. You've got a chance! Take it!
Shinji hadn't fully processed what was happening, but his legs, fueled by adrenaline, moved before he could think.
The red-haired man deflected the dog with a knee, drove his elbow into its flank, then drew a short knife from his belt.
In a single, fluid, precise motion, he slit its throat. Those movements, that precision, reminded Shinji of his own when he killed the first two dogs.
The dog collapsed, gasping.
— Alright, Ryouma, I've got the other.
A voice rose from behind the butcher.
A second man, with the same build as the one who'd felled the dog, but with light blue hair. His gaze seemed to harbor a grudge only he understood.
He'd just struck the butcher on the back of the head, sending him crashing into the wall.
— Had your fun? he asked, wiping his hands.
— Too slow, Hayato. You're always so damn cautious with every move.
— And you're always too reckless.
Shinji watched them, unsure what he was even looking for.
They were strikingly similar, save for their gazes and hair; everything else about them was alike. Twins, most likely.
Yet their movements, their gazes, their stances betrayed their opposition.
They'd dispatched the butcher and the last dog. It took them mere seconds to do what Shinji couldn't even fathom, sweeping away his despair as if it were just an annoying detour.
Shinji didn't dare speak, unsure if this was real or if his mind was conjuring a vision of his cowardice, showing him what he could've done if he hadn't hidden behind hypocritical madness.
The red-haired twin—Ryouma, apparently—approached Shinji.
— Who are you?
A seemingly simple question, but Shinji didn't know how to answer.
— I… I don't know anymore.
— We save your life, and you decide to play the amnesiac?
Ryouma knelt. His gaze hardened.
— That blade… Explain yourself!
Shinji shrank back an inch.
— I… I don't know.
— You don't know anything, do you? Ryouma spat. You want to play that game? You think we saved you to show off?
He grabbed Shinji roughly by the collar.
— I swear, if you keep lying, I'll finish what that scum started, Ryouma spat again, pointing at the butcher.
Shinji felt his heart pound against his chest.
— What do they want from me? What did I do? Shinji thought.
— Let him go, Hayato said, gesturing for Ryouma to release him.
— You're too soft, Hayato.
— And you're too unpredictable. He'd be dead without us. He's lost, not dangerous.
Ryouma kept gripping Shinji's collar for a few more seconds before letting go.
Shinji fell to his knees. He could barely breathe, and in that moment of weakness, a certainty settled in him:
— They didn't save me. Not for my sake.
— They want something. Like everyone else.
— This whole world… everything here… reeks of self-interest.
— Even them, my saviors. All they want… is answers.
He scanned his surroundings. Once again, the humidity, the stifling air, a sky as dark as what lay beneath it.
— This world doesn't want me alive.
— It wants to crush me.
— Break me until I beg to die.
Hayato saw the urge to give up in Shinji's eyes.
— Where are you from? Which part of Stygia?
— St… Stygia? Shinji murmured.
The name was unfamiliar, though he'd seen it on the butcher's stall. Yet deep within, he felt he'd heard it before.
He hesitated to tell them everything. Maybe that was the answer they were waiting for—that he didn't know who he was, that he remembered nothing of his past, that he was just a lost soul drowning in demons he couldn't explain.
But what was the point? Whether he spoke or not, nothing would change his fate. He knew they hadn't hesitated to take down the butcher and would do the same to him once they got the answers they wanted.
— I… I'm not from here.
A heavy silence followed before Ryouma's anger flared again.
He drew his knife and pointed it at Shinji.
— We save you, and that's all you've got? How long are you going to play dumb?
— You clearly haven't dealt with us, the Zephyr.
— Zephyr? Shinji murmured.
— Keep it up, and…
As Ryouma threatened Shinji, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hayato was starting to look unwell, sweat beading on his forehead.
Hayato began laughing hysterically. Shinji had already descended into madness; nothing made sense to him anymore, but Ryouma didn't understand the reaction either.
— Hey, what's your deal, Hayato? This isn't the time.
— That blade… him… Hayato murmured.
— Hayato, what are you talking about? Ryouma shouted.
— That blade… it's because of him that we lost everything.
— Our father… it's because of him… Ryouma! Hayato yelled, pointing at Shinji.
— Make him suffer until he dies. No, keep him alive; once we're back at camp, I'll deal with him myself.
— Calm down, Hayato. This wasn't the plan.
But Hayato wasn't listening anymore. He made a simple gesture with his hand, and several silhouettes leapt from the rooftops of the walls lining the alley.