The Berserker's body convulsed, muscles twitching beneath cracked, molten skin, veins glowing like rivers of fire. Its gaze flickered, not at Shojiro or his father, but at the chaos erupting down the street. Dust swirled, flames licked the walls of collapsed buildings, and the cries of the terrified echoed across the shattered asphalt. Shojiro's pulse hammered against his ribcage, each beat a warning drum.
Above the roar of collapsing structures and snapping power lines, Tetsuro's voice cut through like steel. "Shojiro! Focus! Get anyone alive underground!"
Shojiro's stomach dropped. He scanned the street: overturned vehicles, scorched rubble, and bodies mangled beyond recognition. Some were already gone — bones crushed, limbs torn apart, faces unrecognizable. The ones still alive clung to the chaos, their screams raw and pleading. His chest constricted with helplessness. I can't save them all… but I have to try.
Tetsuro moved with ruthless efficiency. Every step, every gesture was calculated — lifting children, dragging the injured, herding panicked adults toward the reinforced underground hatch.
A mother screamed, tripping over debris. Shojiro lunged, gripping her arm, pulling her upright. The flames reflected in her wide, terrified eyes. "Thank… thank you!" she gasped, stumbling toward the hatch. Her son, barely ten, clutched her skirt, eyes swimming with terror. He's still alive… Shojiro's gut twisted. He pushed them ahead. Every second mattered.
Then a low, guttural roar reverberated down the street. The Berserker had noticed. Its body erupted forward, molten core pulsing, cracks spreading across asphalt beneath its colossal frame. It moved faster than logic should allow, each step sending shockwaves that shattered glass and flung rubble like missiles. Screams pierced the air as civilians froze, terror rooting them to the ground.
Shojiro's mind raced. He could reach some, maybe shield a few, but not everyone. The man pinned under a crushed vehicle… the woman whose arm had been torn… too late. He clenched his fists, knuckles raw. I can't fight everything… only those I can reach in time. His stomach churned, but he didn't slow.
The Berserker's claw swung down toward a mother and child sprinting toward the hatch. Shojiro's breath hitched — it's him. The kid from the tournament yesterday… The realization struck him cold. Every moment he wasted, the claws came closer.
CRASH! Tetsuro blurred in, tackling the monster's arm mid-swing. The street shook violently. Dust, sparks, and molten blood sprayed in every direction. Shojiro froze for a heartbeat, staring as his father's ribs collapsed under the impossible force. Yet Tetsuro's spine held, teeth gritted, eyes locked on the target. He was a living barrier between death and the civilians.
"Take them! NOW!" Tetsuro roared, blood dripping from his mouth. His voice carried the unshakable authority of someone who refused to break, even under catastrophic pressure.
Shojiro didn't hesitate. He barreled toward the mother, sweeping her and her son up. "Run! Go!" His voice cut through the chaos. The mother stumbled; he caught her, shoving her down the steps leading to the hatch. The boy clung to him, eyes wide with fear. Shojiro felt the heat of the Berserker behind them — the sound of its claw grinding against the asphalt, the hiss of molten veins, the guttural roar vibrating through the street.
Another civilian caught his eye — a man trapped under rubble, clawing at life. Shojiro's chest burned. Could he save him? No. Not without risking the child. He gritted his teeth. Some have to die… and it can't be these two. The moral weight twisted in his gut like broken metal, but he forced it down and ran.
Tetsuro's strikes never faltered. Every blow he landed on the Berserker's arm made Shojiro flinch, but the creature's momentum slowed just enough. Sparks flew as stone-like claws scraped against concrete. The mother and son disappeared down the stairwell, the hatch looming like salvation. Shojiro glanced back once — Tetsuro's body trembling, veins straining, teeth bared, but still refusing to fall. I'll come back for you. I promise.
The Berserker's attention shifted again, sniffing, hunting, aware of Shojiro. He ignored the creatures he couldn't save and sprinted down the narrow concrete stairwell, the mother and child pressed close. Behind him, the sound of molten claws tearing into pavement echoed, shaking the ground above. Every second was agony, but he pressed on, delivering the first real blow of hope: he got them to the hatch.
The concrete stairwell reeked of smoke, sweat, and blood. Each step reverberated under Shojiro's boots as he barreled forward, the mother clutching her son to her chest, trembling like a leaf in a storm. The boy's wide eyes stared up at him, awe mingled with fear, glancing at the shredded corpses of tiny, insectile demons he had just witnessed vanish under Shojiro's fists.
They were fast — the small ones. Dozens of them, teeth like shards of glass, claws jagged and cruel. One lunged at the boy, fangs gleaming under the flickering emergency lights. Time slowed. Shojiro's instincts took over.
He caught the demon mid-leap, twisting its fragile body through the air. A sickening snap echoed as bones crumbled under his grip. He slammed it into the concrete, hearing the wet, echoing crunch of skull and spine meeting unyielding stone. The boy flinched, a shiver running down his spine, but didn't look away. He was seeing his personal champion in action — a man who could make monsters bend to his will.
Shojiro gritted his teeth and ripped another creature from the shadows, flinging it into the wall behind him. Concrete dust exploded in a fine cloud, painting the stairwell white, but there was no time to breathe. The demons shrieked in alarm, circling like insects around the mother and son. One leapt for the mother, claws scraping her sleeve. Shojiro intercepted it midair, twisting its limb until he felt the fragile snap of joints give way, then drove it headfirst into the concrete. The wet crack of its skull made his stomach turn, and he cursed under his breath.
I can't get attached. I can't… His chest tightened as he looked down at the crushed bodies. He had saved them, but the evidence of what he had done was everywhere, wet and red, bones jagged like splintered wood. The boy's wide, terrified eyes met his, and Shojiro forced himself to smile — a faint, reassuring curve. It's necessary. They have to survive. That's what matters.
The mother gasped, gripping his arm with surprising strength. "Th-thank you… thank you so much… you saved my son…" Her voice trembled with relief, gratitude searing through the fear in her tone. Shojiro nodded, still scanning the stairwell for movement.
"Keep them close!" he barked, hauling the boy forward. Another small demon skittered from the shadows, teeth gnashing. Shojiro's fist collided with it mid-leap; the sound of impact echoed like a hammer against bone. He twisted its body violently, a spray of black ichor splattering against the walls. The boy flinched violently, burying his face into his mother's chest. He had idolized Shojiro, dreamed of his matches, but seeing him in this, the raw, terrifying reality of fighting monsters, was different — too visceral, too immediate.
Shojiro's eyes darted down the narrow stairwell, muscles coiling like springs. Every second counts. Every second they hesitate, more of them die. He swung at another demon, feeling the crunch of bone beneath his knuckles. Black blood splattered onto the concrete, the metallic stench making his stomach churn. Yet he couldn't pause. He couldn't let fear slow him.
Another lunged at the mother, and Shojiro slammed a forearm into its chest, sending it crashing into the stairwell wall. The impact cracked concrete, dust falling in clouds. She screamed, clutching her son tighter, voice breaking as she sobbed out, "I—I can't thank you enough! You… you're a hero!"
Shojiro's chest tightened further. "I'm not a hero… I'm just a man who can fight. I'm not invincible. I can fail. I already failed in the streets above." His mind flashed briefly to the people he couldn't save — the bodies, the screams, the impossibility of it all. And yet, he had to keep moving, had to protect those he could.
The boy peeked up again, watching Shojiro deliver a crushing elbow to another demon's skull. It shattered like pottery, dark ichor spraying across the stairwell walls. He gasped, eyes wide, hands gripping his mother's blouse. The awe was undeniable, but so was the horror. This was his champion, yes — but the boy might never unsee this. Trauma mingled with inspiration, and Shojiro recognized it in his own gaze reflected in the boy's fear.
"Stay close, champ!" Shojiro called, pushing forward, dragging both mother and son along. The stairwell narrowed, giving the small demons less room to maneuver, but that only made them more desperate, more vicious. Shojiro pivoted, grabbing one by the leg mid-swing, snapping it cleanly, then using its corpse to crush two more charging him. The sickening sounds of bone breaking, the wet splashes of black ichor, echoed like a morbid symphony.
The mother's voice trembled again. "I… I don't know how to repay you… you… you're amazing…" Shojiro felt a flash of warmth — fleeting, almost human. He shook his head, focusing on the stairwell ahead. There was no time for praise. Only survival.
Finally, the hatch loomed above them. Shojiro hauled the mother and boy the last few steps, shoving them into the narrow safety of the underground chamber. The demons hesitated at the top of the stairwell, their instincts conflicted by the sudden barrier of metal. He slammed the hatch down, grinding it into place with a deafening clang. Concrete shuddered under the impact.
Inside, the mother clutched her son, sobbing quietly, tears streaking through the soot on her face. "Thank… thank you, you… you saved us…"
The boy stared at him, silent now, trembling, eyes wide with shock. Shojiro crouched slightly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay… you're safe now. Just stay close, alright?"
Shojiro's lungs burned. His knuckles bled. His muscles screamed. But for the first time in minutes, he allowed himself a breath, a heartbeat of reprieve — even as the chaos above raged on, and Tetsuro continued to hold the Berserker at bay. "I'll come back for you, Father. I will. No matter what."
The metal hatch clanged shut behind them, reverberating through the packed underground chamber like a death knell. Shojiro pressed the boy against his side, the mother clinging tightly to her son's back. The room was small, concrete walls slick with condensation and streaks of soot from the emergency lights overhead. More than fifty people were crammed together, shoulders brushing, faces pale and desperate.
Panic hung in the air like a living thing. Voices shouted over each other, fear twisting into anger, frustration, and blame.
"Someone has to seal the hatch!" a man screamed, veins standing out on his forehead.
"If we don't close it, those things out there will kill us all!" another yelled, fists banging against a nearby support beam.
"You close it then!" came a sharp retort. "I was here first — why should I die for you?"
Shojiro's gaze swept over the crowd. Every face was etched with terror, sweat, grime, and dread. Mothers clutched children, men tried to assert authority, elders cowered. And somewhere beneath it all, he could sense the raw instinct to survive overtaking reason.
Then the conflict escalated. One middle-aged man pointed at the mother and boy, shaking a finger in accusation.
"She's new! If anyone's staying out there, it's her! You keep the hatch open for her, and the rest of us die!"
The mother gasped, backing away, clutching her son, shaking. "Please, I—I can't—my boy—"
Another woman from the back shouted, voice cracking, desperation laced with rage: "Then your boy dies too if that hatch stays open!"
Hands gripped her shoulders, some tugging, others shoving, fear bleeding into violent instinct. Shojiro's chest tightened. The smell of sweat, panic, and metal was suffocating.
Then he stepped forward. One motion, one step, and the room froze. His boots echoed on the concrete floor. Blood and black ichor streaked across his arms and chest, clothing torn and caked with grime. His knuckles were raw, slick with dried blood, muscles taut, face smeared with the evidence of what he had done above.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't yell. He simply stepped into the center of the storm and radiated authority.
Every eye fell on him. Every argument halted mid-sentence. The mob instinct, sharp and dangerous moments before, faltered against the raw, primal presence of someone who had walked through hell and survived.
Shojiro bent slightly, resting a hand on the mother's trembling shoulder. His voice was low, calm, and deadly certain.
"Take care of him. Keep your head down."
Then he turned to the crowd, eyes sweeping over every frantic, desperate face. "I'll do it."
Silence swallowed the chamber. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. No one moved. No one dared speak.
Shojiro turned toward the ladder, boots thudding against the concrete, heart hammering, muscles aching. Every step upward was deliberate, measured. He cast one glance over his shoulder. The boy's eyes were wide, shimmering with fear and awe, the mother's lips trembling as she whispered thanks under her breath.
Shojiro's jaw tightened. He didn't falter. He didn't hesitate. Every second counts. Every heartbeat above ground matters.
Shojiro crouched just above the hatch, the boy's small voice breaking through the silence.
"Mister Shojiro… you'll come back, right?"
Shojiro paused, letting the words sink in. His hand brushed against the boy's shoulder one last time, rough and raw, but steady. He forced a smile — a single, fleeting expression of reassurance.
"That's a promise, champ."
The mother reached out, desperation in her trembling hands, but the hatch clanged shut before she could touch him. Metal scraped metal with a deafening finality.
Shojiro's heart clenched as he pressed his palms against the ladder, feeling the vibrations of chaos above, the massive thuds of the Berserker's assault, and the distant shouts of his father.
"Lock it tight. Don't open it for anyone — no matter what you hear."
The boy's eyes glistened with tears, half in awe, half in terror. Shojiro's own chest ached with the weight of what had just happened, the horror he had left behind, and the vow he had to keep.
He looked up into the darkness, muscles coiled, bloodied, exhausted, and whispered to himself:
"I'll come back… Father… I swear."
The hatch clicked. Silence enveloped the shelter. Below, the civilians held their breath. Above, chaos raged. And in that narrow, suffocating space, a boy had witnessed the man he idolized and the raw brutality required to survive the first wave of hell.