The sky was painted red. The atmosphere trembled with explosions. Smoke filled every breath and the smell of iron filled the air.
And at the centre of it all, three people stood.
Once friends, allies,
Now enemies, on opposite sides of the war currently unfolding.
The reasoning for the war was stupid, really. Just two rich bastards fighting over some dead guy's land.
Still, we mercenaries aren't paid to ask questions, nor are we paid to have reservations about our employers.
We are paid to kill.
Killing for me, at this point, is more like squashing a cockroach. Doesn't evoke any emotion anymore… other than a sick sense or joy or pride when I make a clean as hell headshot.
Feeling sorry or sad is why you hesitate.
Hesitation gets you killed.
Still, seeing Soka, Himiko, Goki, on opposing sides in the war, I couldn't help but tremble briefly.
I paid for it quickly afterwards with a bullet wound in my side.
The sniper got a fresh symmetrical hole in his head for his troubles.
Finally, we met. My former comrades. My best friends.
My enemies.
Each of them was soaked in crimson, mostly from my soldiers, yet stood largely uninjured.
Of course, they were almost at my level, after all.
"Ten…sei?" Himiko… spoke… all the bloodlust I know she had throughout the war was replaced with fear.
Whether for me or for her life, I would never know.
"Yo! Guys! You doing good?" I yelled back while waving though I noticed my hand trembling, not from fear.
I wished it didn't come to this.
"Ten. Remember when we talked about what we would do if we were pitted against each other?" Goki asked, in a low voice.
I nodded.
Himiko nodded.
Goki nodded.
Soka nodded.
No one smiled.
No one hesitated.
The moment Goki and Soka pulled out their guns and Himiko drew her swords, Tensei left.
Phoenix took over.
The first shot was fired, missed by a hair as Phoenix moved. Faster than what seemed possible.
The chaos escalated. Smoke curled around shattered buildings, and the ground trembled under explosions. Tensei—Phoenix—moved like a storm that didn't announce itself.
Himiko lunged with blades flashing. One… two… three strikes, all perfectly aimed. Phoenix sidestepped, a blur, letting the swords cut nothing but empty air. In a heartbeat, the swords were knocked from her hands, spinning across the rubble.
Phoenix immediately grabbed her wrist and bent it before flinging her into a nearby store. A broken pipe, jutting out of rubble in the store impaled her before she could react.
She stopped moving.
Goki's rifle barked again. Phoenix's form shifted faster than the bullets traveled. A single swipe disarmed him, sending the gun flying. Goki stumbled back, face pale, and for the first time, Tensei saw hesitation creep in.
His face morphed from shock to resignation before putting up a weak smile.
My heart faltered.
Phoenix didn't.
One twist and a bullet struck home, right in his forehead.
Goki crumpled to the ground instantly.
Soka, calm until now, finally raised a hand to fire a final round. The bullet barely left the chamber when Phoenix was already on him, faster than thought, faster than reaction, faster than mercy.
He was the last to fall.
The battlefield quieted for a second.
And then… it wasn't quiet anymore.
Shots rang out, swords clashed, and in the blink of an eye…
Phoenix had killed them all.
Tensei's chest heaved. He looked down at his friends. His former friends.
They were still smiling, just that they weren't alive to argue or joke or fight.
Just… silence.
He sank to his knees. Blood—his, theirs, the war's—soaked his hands.
"Why…" his voice cracked, almost swallowed by the winds of the destroyed city. "Why did it have to be like this?"
-
The war didn't last long after that. Two hours later, the enemy surrendered.
My squad, the army I worked with hosted a party. Drinks, food, laughter, all things that made you forget the kill count of all the people present.
Rather than indulge, however, I stayed in the shower. Some dumbass I killed before the war ended thought it was a good idea to cough up his blood on me. It felt disgusting as hell.
I looked in the mirror and was met with a thin red line on my cheek. It burned a bit but was mostly just a mild inconvenience.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
A thin red line. That was it. After everything. After cities burned, after friends died, after I ended a war with my own hands… that was all the universe bothered to leave me with.
A scratch.
I laughed. Once. It came out wrong.
The water kept running, hot enough to sting, but I didn't move away. Blood spiraled down the drain in lazy circles, diluted until it didn't look like blood anymore. Just color. Just something to be washed away.
Didn't work.
No matter how hard I scrubbed, my hands still felt sticky. Heavy. Like they remembered things I didn't want them to.
I slid down the wall of the shower and sat there, water beating down on my head, eyes unfocused.
Soka's calm voice.
Goki's stupid laugh.
Himiko calling my name like she still believed it meant something.
Phoenix hadn't hesitated.
Tensei had.
That was the part that hurt.
The party outside roared louder. Someone cheered. Glass shattered. Victory sounded the same everywhere, I realized. Loud enough to drown out guilt if you let it.
I didn't.
When I finally turned the water off, the silence hit harder than any explosion. My legs felt weak as I stood. Dizzy. Exhausted. Empty.
I made it three steps out of the bathroom before the world tilted.
Hard.
The floor rushed up to meet me, and for a split second, I thought this was it. Death again. Funny how it never feels dramatic when it actually shows up.
But instead of darkness, there was heat.
Pressure.
Phoenix stirred somewhere deep inside me, restless, irritated. Like this was inconvenient.
"Don't," I whispered. To it. To myself. To everything.
My vision tunneled. Sounds warped. The ceiling blurred into nothing.
The last thing I felt was weightlessness.
And then…
Nothing.
The world did not fade. It simply… stopped.
Sound collapsed inward. Heat lingered without burning. Time forgot how to move.
A soft blue glow pulsed in the void.
"I think you went too far this time… didn't you, Jigoro?"
The woman's voice was gentle, strained at the edges. She knelt beside Tensei's body, lifting his severed head with practiced care. As she placed it back where it belonged, the glow intensified, threads of neon light stitching flesh and bone together as if nothing had ever been broken.
The head reattached seamlessly.
"No," Jigoro replied. His tone was rough, but quieter than usual. "I didn't."
Makoto looked up at him. "He's already paid for it. Again." Her fingers brushed through Tensei's hair as his breathing slowly returned. "Didn't you see what he was shown?"
Jigoro's jaw tightened. "I saw enough."
"That wasn't him," he continued after a pause. "That was what he becomes when he stops choosing." His voice dropped lower, meant for only one listener. "If he keeps reaching for that power, he'll forget there was ever another way."
Makoto's smile was small. Sad. Knowing.
"I know," she said softly. "That's why I know you can't stay."
Jigoro exhaled through his nose. "I hate leaving this to you."
She laughed quietly. "It's always one of us."
That earned him a short, reluctant chuckle.
With a dull thump that echoed through the void, Jigoro vanished, leaving only the faint pulse of neon light.
THUMP
Jigoro appeared in a spectral hallway, floating somewhere in between space and time. This was his least favorite place to be in the world.
Honestly, in his educated opinion, hell is far more enjoyable than where he is about to go to.
Swallowing his pride, disgust, and annoyance, he stepped forward to a throne-room like place.
In the centre of the infinite spread of universal space, a single throne floated there.
On it sat a person, similar in strength and appearance to Jigoro, yet so strikingly different.
His twin brother.
KuroKami.