Chapter 40 — Oath of the Pale Sword
The morning after the battle was soaked in quiet misery.
The skies above Liberty City were a heavy shade of ash, and the rain that fell felt more like the heavens grieving than weather itself. The streets were almost empty — except for two figures walking slowly down the drenched road, their boots splashing through shallow puddles.
John and Gina.
They followed the trace of battle — broken glass, bullet shells, the faint scent of smoke. And then they saw him.
Jack Stellman lay against the wall of an abandoned chapel, his coat torn, his weapon still clutched tight in his hand. His head leaned slightly to the side, and his face — peaceful, almost smiling. The smile of a man who had faced death on his own terms.
Gina froze.
Her voice broke as she whispered, "...Jack?"
No answer. Only the rain.
She ran forward, dropped to her knees, and shook his shoulders. "Jack! Jack, please! Wake up—"
Her words fell apart. The body was cold. The faint glimmer of the silver necklace he always wore was dull now.
John stood there, staring blankly, rain pouring down his face. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword — the Buddhist-infused blade, the one meant to cut through darkness. But at that moment, it felt useless. Worthless.
"He died smiling…" Gina said quietly, tears rolling freely down her cheeks.
John's gaze hardened. His pale-gray eyes seemed almost silver now, glowing faintly under the storm clouds.
"Don't you see?" he said in a low, trembling voice. "That smile isn't peace… it's pain he buried. He fought alone."
The air grew colder around him. Gina could feel his aura rising — that controlled fury he had always kept sealed within.
The funeral came two days later.
It wasn't grand. Just the remains of their squad, a few silent mourners, and a tattered flag draped over Jack's coffin. The cemetery was quiet, only the distant sound of thunder echoing through the valley.
When they lowered the coffin, Gina placed a single white flower over it — the kind Jack once said reminded him of home. John said nothing. He stood apart, his sword planted in the soil, the blade glowing faintly as though sensing his rage.
As the last shovel of dirt hit the coffin, John finally spoke.
His voice was hoarse but steady:
"Jack Stellman… you fought for everything they took from us. I swear on my blood, on this blade, on every life I have left — I'll kill him."
The wind howled, almost answering his oath.
Gina turned to him, eyes wide. "John, don't let hate take you. That's what he wants—"
But John's eyes were distant. "This isn't hate," he muttered. "It's justice. For Jack. For everyone he's destroyed."
---
Meanwhile…
High above the city, from the tallest spire of the Great Church of Liberty, stood a lone silhouette — H.I.M.
The rain fell against his long black coat, and for once, his eyes weren't glowing red… they were dim. Tired. Human.
Below him, the faint toll of the church bell echoed through the mist.
He looked toward the cemetery in the distance. Even from that height, he could sense it — Jack's death.
For a moment, his expression broke.
His jaw tightened. His hands trembled. Then a single tear fell down his cheek.
"Jack…" he whispered. "You still smiled, even after I destroyed everything you stood for."
He looked at his reflection in a shard of stained glass beside him — the reflection of a monster, a man twisted by vengeance long before John ever swore his.
"I didn't want this," he said softly. "But the world took too much from me… and you stood in my way."
He clenched his fist. The glass shattered.
Lightning struck behind him, painting the cross of the cathedral in a blinding flash of white.
---
Back at the graveyard, the storm intensified.
John stood at the edge of Jack's grave, his aura expanding, rippling the air around him. The Buddhist seal on his blade began to glow violently, the energy pulsing like a heartbeat.
Gina called out, "John! Stop—"
But it was too late. The ground cracked slightly beneath his feet as his voice thundered into the storm.
"H.I.M!" he roared, eyes blazing silver. "I don't care what you've lost — I'll make sure you lose everything!"
The thunder responded like an echoing drumbeat.
And far away on the church tower, H.I.M. heard it.
He smirked bitterly, whispering to the wind:
"So, the pale-eyed swordsman awakens. Come then, John. Let's finish what fate started."
The storm grew wilder, lightning splitting the sky between them — two souls scarred by the same past, bound for a collision that would decide the fate of Liberty itself.
And as the rain poured endlessly…
The hunter and the hunted both stood beneath the same sky,
mourning the same man,
and walking the same road of vengeance.
But only one would survive it.