10 MINUTES AGO
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Ryosuke stood near the tunnel entrance with his blade angled down, its tip stained a dark red that dripped onto the cracked concrete. Five cultists lay scattered behind him like broken furniture, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, the blood pooling and trailing toward the tunnel wall. He exhaled slowly, the steam of his breath curling in the dim light, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His jaw clicked as he clenched it tight, scanning the chaos sprawling out across the dome.
Bobo was a blur in the distance, trading bone-crunching blows with Aries. Gunfire rattled across the upper stands where Tobi and Amelia ducked between rows, their movements jagged but determined. Up high, Luce's shots sliced through the air like silver threads, cutting down any cultist who got too close. And far beyond the haze and flickering light, he could see Mikey locked in a dance with Capricornus—dodging those writhing tendrils like a flame refusing to be snuffed out.
"We are separated," he murmured to himself, the words steady, almost resigned. "It is for the best."
He forced his eyes away from Mikey.
'He is strong. He must make it without me. I have to protect what's here.'
Behind him, pressed against the caved-in tunnel exit, a crowd of civilians huddled together like cornered animals. At least fifty of them—faces streaked with soot, clothes torn, eyes wide with that silent kind of fear that eats at the marrow. Voices rose, cracking under the weight of panic.
"Are we gonna be okay?" "You're not gonna leave us, right?!" "Help us!"
Ryosuke turned just enough to meet their eyes. "You will all be okay. I promise." He didn't know if that was true. But lies have power when they sound like hope. His gaze swept the dome again, mapping out exits that no longer existed. Every archway choked with cultists. Every upper level crawling with gunmen. The stands were half collapsed. It was a narrow path, and he knew exactly what that meant.
'Shit. Only a couple will make it out… many will die.'
A cultist broke through the smoke, sprinting at him with a raised cleaver. Ryosuke pivoted and cut him down in one clean motion, the man falling before he even realized he'd been sliced. Ryosuke's voice was steady when he called back to the crowd.
"Who among you can fight?"
A few hands lifted—shaking, hesitant, but raised nonetheless. Marlene's was one of them. He took them in, scanning their stances, the fear still glued to their bones. It would have to do. "Get in groups of ten. There are exits up top," Ryosuke said. "I need two fighters with each group. You will escort them to safety. I will join the last group."
They moved with the stumbling obedience of desperate people, trying to listen even as bullets cracked through the air. More cultists advanced, and Ryosuke sprang forward on his cybernetic leg, the steel joint hissing as it launched him upward. He crossed the gap in an instant and raised his sword, deflecting a spray of gunfire with a ringing clash.
"First group, go!"
The first wave of ten sprinted for the upper exits, their escorts flanking them. Ryosuke landed like a hammer, cleaving through another group of attackers before they even registered his descent. He moved like a storm—deliberate, but merciless. He caught a glimpse of Marlene in the corner of his vision, crouched low, whispering to little Angelica.
"You have to get on mommy's back, okay?"
"Yes ma'am…" Angelica's small voice trembled, her eyes glassy with tears. She clung to her mother's back, shaking, and for a moment Ryosuke's chest caved inward with a familiar pain.
'Kaori…'
His daughter's face flashed in his mind—her smile, the warmth, the sound of her laugh right before Kael took her away. The memory twisted inside him like a knife. He forced it down, breathing through it. He faced Marlene directly, his voice steady but heavier than before.
"Protect your daughter with your life. Do not make my mistake."
She nodded firmly, the barrel of her pistol glinting faintly as she drew it from her waistband. Ryosuke turned back to the battle and surged forward, his blade leading the way.
"Second group! Go!"
He vaulted off a railing, twisted through the air, and split a cultist's skull clean down the center with a downward arc. His cybernetic leg absorbed the landing as he spun, cutting through the next one's stomach with a wet snap of muscle and steel. They didn't scream. None of them did. They moved like machines—mindless and hollow. Another lunged, and Ryosuke hurled his katana straight into his chest. As the man staggered back, Ryosuke launched himself upward, heel kicked the top of his skull, and split it open like overripe fruit. He yanked the blade free, slick with blood.
"Third group! Go!"
He saw Marlene and Angelica disappear with the group up the stands. A quiet breath left his chest.
'Good. She will be fine.'
His attention snapped to a woman curled on the floor, sobbing into her palms. He walked toward her, his voice low but firm. "Get up. It is okay. I will protect you." She wiped at her cheeks and rose slowly, trembling. "Thank you… thank you so—"
CRACK.
A hot spray of blood painted Ryosuke's face. For a heartbeat he didn't process it. The woman's eyes rolled back, and a curved sickle jutted out from her forehead like some grotesque ornament. She was dead before she hit the ground. Ryosuke blinked, his pulse sinking to a cold, steady thrum. He wiped the blood from his face with his forearm and followed the chain back to its source. A voice cut through the chaos—a girl's voice.
"Where is your hideout, dogs?!"
A small hooded figure stepped out of the smoke, black robes trimmed in gold, a chain wrapped around her arm as she yanked the sickle free with a sharp metallic snap. A Zodiac.
"You did this..?" Ryosuke muttered.
She bared her teeth like a feral thing.
"I did, old man. Now tell me, dog—where is your hideout?"
She pulled her hood back, revealing an albino girl, young—thirteen, maybe fourteen. Her pale hair clung to her face, blood smeared across her cheek like war paint. Ryosuke's eyes widened, just a fraction.
"You… you are a child."
Her brows knotted. "So what?! Answer my damn question!"
Ryosuke didn't move. "You are just a child… and yet they made you into this. They use you for this."
Gemini's expression flickered, confusion slipping in like a crack in glass. "Shut up! Answer me! The Grand Regent yearns to know! Lord Mako needs to know!"
Ryosuke's jaw clenched until it ached. His knuckles turned bone white around his katana's hilt. He stared at her—not with hatred, but with something heavier, something she couldn't recognize.
"Who… who did this to you? Who did this to a child?"
He thought of Kaori again, of a father who couldn't save his daughter. And standing here, watching another girl—someone else's daughter—point a weapon at the innocent, it made something in him quietly, irrevocably break. Gemini clenched her teeth. His avoidance of the question was pissing her off.
"I said tell me where your—"
She blinked and he was gone. He crossed thirty feet in an instant. He came in low, his sword drawn but not swinging, the blade sliding back into its sheath with a sharp click. Before she could even register it, his left arm coiled around her throat and lifted her clean off the ground. His right cybernetic arm shot out and caught her left wrist, pinning the sickle in the air. Her legs kicked and twisted, feet scraping against nothing. She spat curses through her teeth, but she wasn't going anywhere.
"Who… did this to you," Ryosuke said, his voice low. "Tell me, so I can end their life."
She spat on his face. "Drop me… old… man…" she choked out.
Ryosuke stared into her eyes. Just then a sharp sting cut across his side. He dropped her throat, his cybernetic grip still holding her arm for a second before she wrenched free. She stumbled, lifted her right arm with that oversized gauntlet, pressed a few buttons, and a concussive blast knocked him back. Ryosuke rolled, then caught himself, and looked down. A blue throwing knife lay at his feet with his fresh blood on it. Then came the voice—soft, calm, almost shy.
"You touched my sister." A boy stepped into view, wearing the same Zodiac robes, spinning another knife lazily in his hand. "Gemini may be stupid," he said quietly, "but don't bully her." He pulled his hood back. He was young—same age as Gemini, white messy hair, pale skin. He was also albino. Gemini coughed and glared at Ryosuke. "He was mean to me, Pisces!"
"I know, sister," the boy said flatly. "The swordsman will pay and the Grand Regent will have his answers."
Ryosuke clenched his teeth. Two of them, two twins, two children. His jaw tightened, his chest burned. His anger wasn't just rage anymore—it was something deeper, something that belonged to a father who'd lost everything. The cult was using these children, and it pissed him off more than anything.