Shojiro sprinted toward the rising column of dust like a man possessed. His lungs burned, but the pounding in his chest wasn't from exhaustion — it was the dread of not knowing whether his father was alive. Every stride sent cracks spiderwebbing across the already ruined pavement. The air tasted of iron and smoke. Sirens wailed. Somewhere, a woman's scream split through the chaos.
He pushed harder.
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please—
Turning the corner, Shojiro froze for half a heartbeat.
Crowds of neighbors — people he'd grown up seeing every morning at the convenience store, at the school gates, at festivals — were rushing in a panicked stream toward a reinforced underground bunker. Children crying. Elderly stumbling. Parents screaming for missing kids. A toddler wailed as dust blew into their eyes.
And at the center of it all, standing like a pillar in a storm, was Tetsuro Momo.
Shojiro's father was covered in soot and grime, but he held himself upright with the same unbreakable posture he used while teaching him martial arts. He barked instructions at terrified citizens with absolute authority.
"Don't push — you'll fall down the stairs! Stay together!"
"Hold onto each other's hands!"
"Move! Move! The ground's unstable — get inside!"
His voice cut through the panic like a blade.
Shojiro almost sagged in relief.
"Dad!" he shouted.
Tetsuro whipped around. The second their eyes met, something tightened in Shojiro's chest — not fear, but the overwhelming relief of seeing the one person who always kept their family steady.
"Shojiro! Good — help them! Get everyone below ground!"
Shojiro didn't hesitate. He threw himself into the crowd, lifting debris off a stuck teenager, pulling an elderly woman upright, catching a falling child by the collar before they hit the stairs.
The woman clung onto him, trembling.
"Th-thank you… thank you…"
Shojiro forced a smile, even though the air felt too tight.
"It's okay. Go — my dad's waiting."
Another man stumbled into him, shaking.
"Kid… thank God you're fast… I thought—I thought we were—"
Shojiro pushed him toward the entrance.
"Go! Move! You'll be safe down there!"
For every person he helped, ten more came screaming past. Tetsuro guided them one by one, shouting over the thunderous groans of distant collapsing buildings.
They were almost done.
Two girls remained at the back — middle schoolers, holding each other's hands so tightly their knuckles turned white. Shojiro ushered them inside, patting their backs as they squeezed into the bunker.
For a moment… just a moment… he thought they'd made it.
But then the world trembled.
Not from an explosion.
Not from an aftershock.
But from something alive.
A low frequency rumble slid through the ground like the growl of a starving beast. Dust on broken windowsills vibrated. Streetlamps flickered. The taste of the air changed — metallic, unpleasant, ancient.
Tetsuro slowly turned toward the sound.
Shojiro followed his gaze.
A two-story building down the block buckled inward — not from the top, but from its base, as if something inside was pushing outward against its walls. Concrete cracked. Steel beams snapped like brittle bones.
Then the building collapsed in on itself.
A choking cloud of dust spiraled upward, swallowing the street. Something moved inside it — massive, heavy, wrong. Bricks rolled. A car alarm went off uselessly.
Shojiro's nails dug into his palms.
That… that's not an earthquake.
The thing stepped out of the dust.
And Shojiro's breath caught in his throat.
It was enormous — easily three meters tall. Muscles bulged under cracked, stone-like skin that oozed black ichor from deep fissures. Its arms were thick as tree trunks. Claws longer than a man scraped the street. Its spine jutted out in jagged ridges. And its eyes…
Those eyes glowed a predatory, feral red.
It emerged from the wreckage and ripped through a concrete wall as if it were paper, letting out a guttural scream that made the ground tremble
Tetsuro muttered, almost under his breath,
"…damn."
The demon inhaled sharply, as if tasting the air. Then its head snapped toward the two of them.
Shojiro's heart dropped.
The creature crouched slightly, sniffing, and its lips parted in a grotesque, hungry smile.
Narration (future Shojiro):
I didn't know it then… but this thing was called a Berserker.
One of the weakest demons from Purgatory.
Weakest.
And even this one could crack concrete with a casual swipe.
I thought it was the strongest thing alive.
I was wrong.
This was the warm-up act for hell.
A scream broke through the haze — a man who hadn't reached the bunker yet. He froze, staring at the demon like a deer staring at headlights.
The Berserker turned toward him.
Shojiro didn't think — he sprinted.
The man tripped over fallen bricks just as the demon lunged. Shojiro grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backward with so much force they both rolled across the street.
"Go! Run!" Shojiro barked.
The man sobbed, "T-thank you! Oh my god—thank you!"
Shojiro shoved him toward the bunker and turned back—
—just in time to see the Berserker locking eyes with him.
Tetsuro's voice snapped through the air:
"Shojiro! Keep them safe — don't let that thing touch anyone!"
Shojiro clenched his jaw.
"…Right."
Fear twisted in his stomach, icy and heavy, but he forced himself to stand tall. His breathing steadied. His pulse slowed. His father stepped up beside him without a word.
The demon took a step forward.
The ground cracked.
Dust spiraled.
Its gaze narrowed.
Shojiro and Tetsuro exchanged a look.
No words.
No plan.
Just the silent understanding of two fighters who knew they might die — but would die together if they had to.
Shojiro inhaled once.
Don't run.
Don't look away.
Protect them.
Protect Dad.
The Berserker roared.
Shojiro lowered his center of gravity.
Tetsuro clenched his fists.
And the world held its breath.
Shojiro's eyes narrowed. The Berserker's crimson gaze locked onto him, muscles coiled like steel cables. Its claws scraped the asphalt, sending sparks flying, while every step it took made the cracked street shudder. This wasn't a fight he could take lightly. One swipe could pulverize a car—or a person. One misstep, and it could be over before it even began.
Tetsuro planted himself beside him, his stance calm, yet primed for instant movement. No words passed between them — they didn't need to. Years of training, countless sparring sessions, silent understanding. This was instinct.
The Berserker lunged first. Its massive arm swung in a horizontal arc, claws aimed to shear the street clean. Shojiro dropped low, rolling under the strike, the air whistling above him as sparks rained down. He came up on one knee, punching out with a straight strike to its thigh. The blow barely phased it — stone-like muscle absorbing what should've been a debilitating strike. Still, the creature faltered for a heartbeat. That was enough.
Tetsuro followed instantly. Leaping with a gymnast's grace, he drove both fists into the creature's exposed lower back, each impact echoing like a hammer against an anvil. The Berserker roared, spinning violently, its claw slicing through the air where Tetsuro had been. Shojiro dove backward, narrowly avoiding the crushing strike.
This thing is unreal… faster than anything human should be… stronger than anything I've faced.
Shojiro's pulse pounded, but he forced himself to think. He knew the Berserker's patterns — brute force, relying on overwhelming strength, but predictable in its ferocity. He'd studied fighters like this all his life. Timing, positioning, and precision would be everything.
He sprinted, rolling forward and slamming a shoulder into its exposed rib cage, spinning off to the side in a fluid motion, and delivered a kick to the Achilles tendon. The creature's guttural scream split the air, but it didn't fall. Its head twisted like a predator, fangs bared, eyes now glowing brighter — aware of Shojiro as a threat.
Tetsuro shouted from the side, his voice sharp as a blade.
"Keep it moving! Don't let it set its weight! Hit and disengage!"
Shojiro gritted his teeth, pivoting around the Berserker as it swung again. He ducked, drove a spinning elbow into its jaw, and vaulted backward onto a fallen streetlight, using the pole as leverage to launch a flying knee into its shoulder. Sparks flew, the metallic thud ringing in his ears. He landed lightly, pivoting instinctively as the Berserker roared and swung at him again, missing by inches.
From above, rubble fell. A twisted street sign clanged to the ground, the echo cutting across the chaos. Shojiro adjusted midair, using the debris as cover to approach from a new angle. He landed behind it, driving two rapid hammerfists into the base of its neck. Black ichor sprayed like ink from a broken pen, hitting his arms. He wiped it off, unfazed.
Tetsuro's turn came like a natural extension. He feinted to the left, then leapt high, driving both feet into its upper back like twin battering rams. The Berserker howled in pain, swinging wildly, but Tetsuro rolled expertly, using the momentum to deliver a brutal spinning elbow to the side of its skull. Dust and debris filled the street, creating a haze of chaos around them.
Shojiro's mind raced. It's strong… faster than anything human… But it's predictable if I stay light. Keep moving. Keep striking. Wait for the opening.
He darted under another swipe, striking the knee with a precise side kick, then spun to deliver a jumping elbow to its temple. The sound of impact was like thunder. The creature staggered but remained standing. Its eyes fixed on him, narrowing.
Tetsuro slammed a fist into its ribs, then followed with a forearm to the jaw, repeating the sequence with military precision. Shojiro mirrored his movements from the opposite side, the two of them like two halves of a predator. Each strike, each block, each dodge was choreographed instinctively — father and son, honed by years of discipline, moving in perfect synergy.
The Berserker roared in frustration. Its speed picked up, claws slicing the asphalt, chunks of concrete flying with each step. The shockwave from a single strike crumpled a car roof like paper. Shojiro's vision narrowed, focusing on the creature's shoulders — if he could destabilize those, its swings would lose power.
He ran in low, planting a knee into the base of its spine, then jumped off a broken lamppost, spinning through the air to drive an elbow into its neck. Tetsuro struck simultaneously from the other side, hooking a fist under the jaw and slamming upward. The Berserker staggered violently, one knee buckling — the first sign of real weakness.
Shojiro rolled back, catching a breath, sweat and ichor stinging his eyes. Tetsuro landed beside him, spitting black fluid, but nodding. "Good… timing… stay on it!"
The Berserker's roar shook the street. It lunged, faster this time, but Shojiro anticipated it. He sidestepped, grabbing a length of rebar from the ground and swinging it into its side. The strike skidded off, but it made the creature twist, losing balance for just a flicker of a second — enough for Tetsuro to strike again, hammerfisting the base of its skull.
Shojiro charged. Every muscle coiled, every nerve firing. He leapt, twisting through the air, and slammed a double elbow into its temple. Tetsuro mirrored him, fists connecting just beside Shojiro's. The combined force made the Berserker stagger, its head snapping violently to the side. Black ichor sprayed, painting the pavement like wet tar. Its roar became a deafening, fractured scream — primal, furious, alive.
Shojiro landed, rolling into position instinctively. We can't stop. One mistake and it ends… not just us, but the people down there.
The Berserker lunged again, claws aimed for his chest. He ducked, rolled, and slammed a heel into its Achilles. Sparks and splintered concrete erupted. It staggered, off balance. Tetsuro leapt onto its back, hammering fists into its neck and shoulders with rhythmic, bone-shattering force. Each strike echoed through the street like war drums.
Shojiro launched himself off the creature's side, driving a spinning elbow into its temple again, and hooked an uppercut to its jaw as it reared. The Berserker finally buckled, one knee scraping the asphalt. Its roar faltered. Its hands clawed at the ground, black ichor splattering everywhere, creating a grotesque rhythm — bleeding, twitching, alive.
Shojiro didn't hesitate. He vaulted over rubble, spinning in midair to slam a knee into the crown of its head. Tetsuro followed with a thunderous dropkick, connecting with the temple. The Berserker fell forward, smashing into a car, crushing the metal under its massive weight. The street trembled. Dust and shards of glass filled the air.
The two fighters moved as one. Shojiro rushed in, fists coiling, and Tetsuro mirrored his movements. They slammed a double strike into its skull, synchronized perfectly — the sound was cataclysmic. The Berserker's body convulsed, rolled, and finally lay still, chest heaving, eyes dimming.
Silence fell like a physical weight. The wind blew the dust aside, revealing the street — destroyed, scorched, soaked in black ichor and debris. The few survivors that hadn't reached the bunker peeked from alleys, whispering prayers, tears streaming down their faces.
Shojiro's chest heaved. Muscles screamed, blood mixed with sweat on his skin. He wiped his arms on his tracksuit, staring at the fallen Berserker. For the first time in his life, he felt the raw weight of mortality — not just his, but the lives that could have ended in an instant.
Tetsuro knelt beside him, hand on Shojiro's shoulder. "You did well. You kept them alive. That's all that matters."
Shojiro exhaled slowly, focusing on the chaos still burning around them. This isn't over. This was only the first act.
The Berserker's body twitched faintly — alive, but broken. Shojiro stepped back, scanning the horizon. Cracks in the sky continued to pulse faintly violet. Distant screams still echoed.
But for a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to breathe.