THE BRIDGE THAT BROKE
October 18, 2102 — 00:01 Imperial Standard Time
Kurogane Span — Eastern Approach
The bridge began to scream.
Not alarms—metal.
A deep, structural groan rolled through the Kurogane Span as the convoy surged forward, engines howling, tires fighting for grip against the damp alloy surface. Wind tore across the open stretch, carrying salt and smoke from behind them.
Ichiro felt it before he saw it.
The pressure in the air shifted—heavy, descending.
"Yamada—" he breathed, already knowing there would be no answer.
Then the sky opened.
The Imperial air warship breached cloud cover like a falling continent. Its hull was cathedral-scale, layered armor plates etched with sigils barely visible beneath active shielding. Weapon ports unfolded with ritual precision, each movement slow enough to feel.
deliberate.
No warning.
No demand.
The first shot hit the far pylons.
Light detonated.
The bridge convulsed. A section of the Kurogane Span vanished in a white-hot bloom, alloy and stone atomized midair. The shockwave slammed into the convoy, lifting vehicles off the ground, hurling them sideways as gravity briefly forgot its rules.
Ichiro was thrown hard against the restraints.
The girl screamed—not in fear, but in warning.
"STOP—!"
Too late.
The road ahead collapsed inward, folding down into fire and ocean. The bridge did not break cleanly. It tore—ragged, screaming, dragging half its length with it as cables snapped like gunfire.
The convoy skidded.
One vehicle went over the edge.
Another slammed sideways into the guard rail, teetered—
—and fell.
Ichiro tore free of his restraints as the vehicle spun, metal shrieking. The driver screamed. Something crushed inward. The world inverted—
—then stopped.
Silence followed.
Not peace.
Impact shock.
The vehicle lay on its side, half-crumpled, engine sputtering weakly. Alarms wailed inside the cabin, red lights pulsing like a dying heart.
Ichiro forced the door open.
Cold air and smoke rushed in.
The bridge behind them was gone.
Ahead—nothing.
They were trapped on a narrowing strip of ruined road, suspended over black water, fire licking at broken pylons beneath them.
Then the ropes fell.
They dropped from the warship like descending spirits—thick, armored lines snapping taut as Imperial Agents slid down in perfect synchronization. Their armor caught the firelight: mechanical samurai frames, plated torsos, segmented limbs, demon masks glowing faint red through smoke.
They landed without sound.
Six.
No—eight.
They moved immediately.
Two split wide. Two advanced head-on. The rest repositioned above, anchors locking into shattered bridge supports.
Ichiro stepped in front of the girl without thinking.
"Stay behind me," he said.
She grabbed his arm.
"No," she said sharply. "They're not here for you."
An Agent raised its weapon.
"Asset located," it intoned. "Begin retrieval."
Ichiro drew.
He moved first—too fast, blade flashing as he closed distance, striking for joints, for seams. His strike landed clean, cutting through the plating at the elbow.
The Agent didn't fall.
It backhanded him across the road.
Ichiro hit the guard rail hard enough to dent it.
Pain flared—sharp, immediate. Something warm spilled down his side.
Blood.
He pushed up, teeth clenched.
Again.
This time, two Agents engaged him at once.
He killed one.
Clean.
The other adapted mid-strike, altering stance, weapon configuration shifting as it drove a blade through Ichiro's shoulder and out the back.
Ichiro screamed.
The girl screamed louder.
"ICH—!"
He ripped himself free and stumbled back, vision swimming. The world narrowed, tunneled. His breathing turned ragged.
He had misjudged them.
No—he had misjudged the Empire.
They were not here to test him.
They were here to erase variables.
One Agent seized the girl.
She fought—harder than he expected—but they were built for this. Her heel struck armor. Her elbow cracked against plating.
Useless.
Ichiro lunged.
Too slow.
The Agent raised its weapon.
The girl twisted—and shoved Ichiro away.
The shot took her in the chest.
She fell into him.
The impact drove them both to the ground.
Ichiro caught her.
Her silver hair was already darkening, soaked through with red. Blood spilled across his hands, across the open wound at his side, smeared into torn flesh.
Her eyes met his.
.Not afraid.
Almost… relieved.
Her hand pressed weakly against his chest, fingers slick with blood.
Not afraid.
Struggling for breath.
Her chest hitched. Her lips trembled.
"When this is all over…" she whispered weakly.
"…when it's all over…"
Her fingers tightened against his sleeve.
"Find me," she breathed.
"Save me."
"Don't…" she whispered. "Hold it back…"
Then she went still.
Something changed.
Not pain.
The girl went still.
No breath.
No movement.
Ichiro felt it before he saw it.
Her weight collapsed fully into his arms, head rolling weakly against his shoulder. Silver hair slipped through his fingers, heavy and wet.
Blood.
Too much blood.
"No…" His voice came out wrong. Thin. Empty.
"No—don't—"
He pressed his hand against her chest without thinking, as if pressure alone could argue with death. His own blood ran freely down his side, warm, slippery, pooling beneath his knees.
The world slowed.
The bridge groaned. Metal cracked somewhere far away. Smoke drifted low across the road.
Boots moved closer.
The Agents didn't rush.
They didn't need to.
Ichiro knew that walk.
Measured. Certain.
They had won.
He looked down at the girl's face. Her eyes were half-open now, unfocused. Whatever fire had kept her fighting was gone.
This was it.
He had failed.
Not because he was weak—but because he had believed he could matter.
His mind raced backward in fragments.
Every step that led here.
Every choice he didn't question.
Every order he followed because it was easier than thinking.
I overestimated myself.
The girl would be taken.
Experimented on. Broken down into data and silence.
And he—
He wouldn't even get a clean death.
One of the Agents stopped directly in front of him.
A shadow fell across them both.
"Asset secured," it said.
Ichiro didn't move.
Couldn't.
The Agent reached down—
—and suddenly—
THUMP.
Pain slammed into Ichiro's chest.
Not impact.
Pressure.
Something inside him convulsed.
His eyes widened. His breath caught hard in his throat.
Another thump.
Then another.
His heart felt like it was being crushed in a closed fist.
Ichiro screamed.
The sound ripped out of him raw and violent—and didn't sound human.
The Agent recoiled.
Ichiro's grip tightened instinctively as the girl's hand slid weakly against his chest. Her blood smeared across his open wounds, soaking into torn flesh.
And something else came with it.
Not heat.
Not cold.
Weight.
Like a presence forcing its way in.
His veins burned. Not painfully—wrongly. As if something foreign was crawling through them, learning their shape.
Ichiro arched backward, spine bowing, fingers digging into the road.
His scream deepened.
Layered.
Distorted.
The sound echoed unnaturally across the bridge, bouncing off broken steel like a warning bell.
The Agents staggered back.
"Recalculating," one said sharply.
"Bio-signature anomaly detected."
Their scanners flared to life.
Numbers spiked.
Threat indicators surged past red.
"…Impossible."
Ichiro's scream cut off.
Abruptly.
Silence fell.
He stood.
Not staggered.
Not rose.
Stood.
Perfectly still.
His head hung low. His arms slack at his sides.
Smoke drifted past him.
The girl slipped gently from his grasp and lay unmoving at his feet.
Ichiro did not react.
The Agents raised their weapons.
"Fire."
Gunshots exploded.
Rounds tore into Ichiro's body—
—and stopped.
Some fell.
Some twisted midair.
Some punched through and sealed behind them, flesh knitting instantly.
Ichiro lifted his head.
His eyes were gone.
Not closed.
Gone.
Black. Pitch black.
At the center of each, a faint red glow burned—slow, pulsing, alive.
One Agent screamed.
Ichiro moved.
He crossed the distance faster than their systems could track.
His hand went straight through an Agent's chest plate, fingers closing around the core beneath.
He pulled.
Armor, spine, and circuitry tore free in a shower of sparks and blood.
He didn't stop.
He pivoted mid-motion, grabbed the next Agent by the mask, and slammed its head into the ground once—
twice—
until the demon face shattered.
Another swung its blade.
Ichiro caught it barehanded.
Crushed it.
Then drove his elbow through the Agent's neck seam, twisting until something snapped wetly inside.
The bridge filled with screaming.
"Command—requesting immediate backup!"
"Threat level—unmeasurable!"
"Fall back—FALL BACK—!"
Ichiro didn't chase.
He appeared.
Every movement precise. Efficient. Ruthless.
He dismantled them.
Limbs torn free.
Armor peeled open.
Weapons turned useless in his hands.
An Agent tried to flee.
Ichiro grabbed its cable mid-ascent and yanked.
The body hit the road hard enough to crack concrete.
Above, the Imperial airship crackled with overlapping voices.
"Ground team, report!"
"What is happening down there?"
"Why are they screaming?"
A technician forced a feed open.
One helmet cam flickered to life.
The view shook violently.
The Agent lay on its back, systems failing, vision blurred with static and blood.
Something stepped into frame.
Boots.
Then legs.
Then a shadow blocking the firelight.
The Agent's breathing hitched.
"…Who—"
"Who are you…?"
Ichiro leaned down slowly.
His eyes filled the frame.
Black.
Burning red.
"I am—"
His voice layered over itself. Calm. Empty. Inhuman.
"—your worst nightmare."
The Agent screamed.
The feed cut to black.
Silence filled the command deck.
No one spoke.
Then—
"Deploy reinforcements. Now."
More Agents dropped.
They didn't last any longer.
One by one, their signals vanished.
Finally, a commander clenched his jaw.
"Enough."
The airship's guns charged.
Target locks painted the bridge red.
"Fire."
The night exploded.
The bridge vanished beneath relentless bombardment.
Steel folded. Fire swallowed everything.
No one cared who was down there anymore.
When the smoke finally thinned—
The Agents were gone.
Ichiro was gone.
The girl was gone.
Only shattered armor remained.
And somewhere deep within Imperial networks, a new designation began circulating in whispers and corrupted files—
UNKNOWN ENTITY
THREAT LEVEL: UNDEFINED
The legend had begun.