From Rhaziel's perspective, the sight would be burned into memory—forever. He had just witnessed a man tear apart the time gate as though it were nothing more than fragile glass, shards of reality scattering in the wake of sheer, unstoppable will. The force behind it was unlike anything he had anticipated.
And yet, the man before him stood firm—rooted in an unshakable resolve. No stumble, no hesitation. Only that steady glare locked onto his foe. The one who had fractured Rhaziel's perfect domain through Syncopation.
"I never foresaw anyone escaping the time gate," Rhaziel said, his voice even but sharpened with intrigue. "I'll write that in my memory book. An impressive feat… for a mortal."
Straightening his posture, he decided the time for observation had ended.
"You've proven your strength to me, white-haired… but you've also stripped away my patience. I will keep my promise. I guarantee it."
With that, Rhaziel raised his fist high before driving it down with devastating force, slamming into the ground like a falling star. The impact splintered the floor, fracturing the very core beneath him. A shockwave burst outward, tearing across the terrain with predatory speed, hunting Temoshí down.
Temoshí sidestepped once—then vanished in a flare of azure fire, the shockwave ripping past the spot he had occupied a heartbeat earlier. Reappearing mid-stride, he blitzed through the chaos like the battlefield belonged to him alone, closing the distance in an instant.
In a fluid motion, he spun into a wide, airborne arc—his leg whipping around with lethal precision, trailing a comet-tail of blue flames. But Rhaziel refused to be caught. With a single backward bound, his body blurred and flickered, disappearing from sight entirely.
Temoshí's kick cut through empty air. Reading the shift in momentum, he anticipated where Rhaziel would reappear. Dropping low into an assassin's crouch, his foot scraped across the ground in a swift, searing circle—igniting the earth in his wake. The ring of flame expanded in seconds, twisting upward into a roaring vortex that spiraled toward the sky.
The blazing vortex roared to life, forming a searing wall between them—a barrier that forced Rhaziel to halt his assault. From behind the flames, Temoshí's sharp gaze tracked every subtle movement, reading exactly where Rhaziel would make his move.
But to Rhaziel, such obstacles were meaningless. He descended slowly through the air, a predator with no rush—until his eyes caught Temoshí sweeping an arm through the inferno, absorbing the fire into his body in a single motion.
In an instant, the blue flames ignited along his frame, and then—flash—Temoshí was gone from sight. By the time Rhaziel's boots were inches from the ground, his opponent had already reappeared directly before him, moving with such ferocity it was as if space itself had folded.
A single fist, wreathed in roaring azure fire, rocketed forward. The impact slammed into Rhaziel's abdomen with unnatural precision and force—so fast, so sharp, the air itself detonated around them. The ground quaked under the pressure, wind spiraling violently into a cyclone as flames snapped outward in every direction.
The strike folded Rhaziel inward, his body buckling under the blow, a deep shock reverberating through his core. Then—like a cannon shot—he was blasted backward, tearing through the air at supersonic speed.
But Temoshí wasn't finished. In the blink of an eye, he was already in pursuit, sprinting so hard the ground behind him scorched under his heels. He closed the distance, leapt into the air, and thrust his leg forward—driving it into the exact same spot on Rhaziel's stomach as before.
This time, the fire trailing from his body flared violently, forming a blazing afterburner that rocketed them both forward. The momentum was monstrous—Temoshí dragged Rhaziel's body with him, slamming him down into the earth like a divine hammer. The impact split the ground, rupturing the wall in an explosive chain reaction, shockwaves rattling through the chamber like rolling thunder.
Temoshí landed lightly, backing away from the cratered wall, his flames simmering low but deadly—ready.
But once again, Rhaziel emerged from the wall as if the blows had been nothing more than a gentle shove. That was when Temoshí truly felt a flicker of disbelief. After so many crushing strikes—each one meant to leave its mark—not a single wound showed. Rhaziel stood there, untouched, his composure unshaken.
Something was off. Deeply off. No matter how strong his attacks were, they weren't doing a thing. Hidden behind his calm exterior, Temoshí's thoughts churned. "What is with this guy? I've hit him with everything I've got… and he's still fine? Not even a scratch?"
Rhaziel adjusted the collar of his uniform as he strode forward, each step calm and deliberate until he stopped just far enough to meet Temoshí's bewildered gaze head-on—the look of a man who couldn't comprehend what stood before him.
"So, you've noticed it, haven't you? Your strikes mean nothing, isn't that right?" His voice was smooth yet edged with mockery. Rhaziel rolled his neck with a sharp crack, joints popping in sequence, before resting one hand on his hip and giving his head a brisk shake, like a dog shedding rainwater.
Temoshí's voice broke the heavy silence, sharp and demanding.
"What… kind of monster are you?"
The mask was gone now—no more feigned calm, no more steady composure. Even if he could somehow surpass Rhaziel's sheer power, there was something far worse lurking beneath. Something he couldn't see, couldn't touch… but could feel sinking into his bones. He needed to know.
Rhaziel's reply came slow, deliberate, like a snake uncoiling.
"Well, for starters…" His tone was calm—too calm, the kind that made the air colder. "I'm not really alive. You know about Soul Resonators, right? The ability to bind your soul to another's body… share their strength, their essence. True, true—nothing new there. But me? I'm a different case. Alive… and yet not." His gaze narrowed, glinting with something dangerous. "Weaker links… they share the pain. The damage. Unless they've forged a bond far beyond the ordinary." His lip curled faintly. "You've done it before—Chiaki, remember? But me? I never bonded with anyone. Never needed to. Always a lone wolf, following nothing but my own will."
The air itself seemed to hold its breath. Even Blythe, across the room, had stopped mid-fight with Kaemor to listen—Kaemor still trapped, powerless to move.
Rhaziel stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, venomous rumble.
"So, without that 'protection,' I twisted the rules. The ones who were with me before the ritual began? They're probably writhing in agony right now. And do you know why?" His smirk was cruel, a blade disguised as a smile. "Because my soul is tethered to them. Every strike meant for me—every bone-shattering hit, every killing blow—gets ripped from me and shoved into their bodies instead. They take the agony. They break for me. And yes… I forced the resonance on them. No permission. No mercy. But it works. I am untouchable. You could crush mountains with your fists, and I wouldn't feel a thing. My soul catches the damage… and throws it away."
He leaned in, his eyes lit with a predator's hunger, his voice dropping to something just above a whisper—a whisper that felt like it could hollow you out.
"And do you know why it works so… flawlessly?"
Every face in the room shifted, a flicker of unease cracking their composure.
Rhaziel's grin widened, sharp as shattered glass.
"Because…" He paused, savoring the moment like the taste of blood.
"…my soul was severed long ago."
Temoshí's and Blythe's eyes widened in a mix of shock and terror, the weight of Rhaziel's revelation sinking deep into their bones. Suddenly, everything clicked—the eerie invincibility, the unyielding calm. It was all tied to that cursed severed soul.
"What do you mean your soul's severed? How the hell does that even work? And those poor souls... how can they possibly bear the pain meant for you?!" Temoshí's voice cracked with disbelief and anger.
Rhaziel's lips curled into a cold, unsettling smile as he stepped closer, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. "It's simple, really. When a soul is severed, it's torn away from its original vessel, left to drift without rest. But I—I've mastered the dark art of soul resonance without the usual bonds. Instead of sharing strength willingly, I forcibly tether my severed soul to those around me—the ones unfortunate enough to be trapped in my orbit."
He paused, letting the tension build as his words sank in.
"Every wound, every strike meant for me, is ripped from my body and dumped into theirs. Their pain becomes my shield, their suffering my armor. They break so I don't have to. It's cruel. It's unforgiving. But it makes me untouchable."
His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "They don't even know it's happening. To them, it's agony without end—while I stand here, untouched and unbroken. That is the true cost of my power. And that... is why I am beyond your reach."
Rhaziel's gaze sharpened as it locked onto Chiaki's, cold and unyielding. "You see, that girl—Chiaki—was no ordinary child. She was a test subject from the very beginning. Just like another girl, one they called Subject 06. Nameless. Forgotten. Doomed from the start. But unlike that woman, Chiaki managed to survive. She escaped. Of course, she can't remember any of it—too young, too broken to hold onto those memories. She doesn't even know she was meant to die before she could truly live."
He paused, voice dropping with dark finality. "When the marines discovered her existence, they realized she was more than just a survivor. She was a threat. A danger to the order they upheld. And so, they placed an enormous bounty on her head—before she even had a chance to understand what was happening to her."
Rhaziel's eyes flicked away briefly before returning, as if weighing his next words carefully. "Her bloodline, her power... it's why she's hunted so relentlessly. And why those like me were tasked with making sure she never truly breaks free. But she did. Against all odds. And that's why this moment, right here, means so much."
Rhaziel's voice dropped to a low, almost conspiratorial tone as he continued, "Chiaki's power isn't just rare—it's volatile. Unpredictable. The experiments they conducted on her and others like her were meant to harness it, to control it. But she was different. Her soul, the essence they tried to manipulate, resisted every attempt to bind it."
He paced slowly, each word measured. "She embodies a force they can't contain. It's not just her strength—it's the way her presence unsettles the very fabric of their control. Every time she appears, entire operations collapse. Their systems fail. Their agents fall into chaos."
Rhaziel stopped and pointed a finger sharply. "She threatens the foundation of their power—the government's grip on the seas and the shadows. If someone like her were to join forces with the wrong people, it could unravel everything. That's why they fear her. That's why they want her gone."
His eyes darkened with a dangerous gleam. "And that's why I was tasked with severing her soul—not just to end a threat, but to send a message. To show that no one, not even someone born of rebellion and power, can stand against the order we've built."
Rhaziel's gaze sharpened as he leaned closer, his voice lowering to a whisper laced with dark certainty.
"Chiaki's soul... was once linked to Subject 06's. A connection forged in those cruel experiments—two souls bound in a forced resonance, tangled across time and pain."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"That's why she experiences those visions—fragments of a past that isn't entirely her own. Memories not her own flesh and blood, but echoes from Subject 06's life. The anguish, the fear, the fleeting glimpses of a fate that was meant to consume both of them."
Rhaziel's eyes flicked toward Chiaki, cold but calculating.
"It's a curse—and a weapon. That shared link gave Subject 06 a foothold, a lingering presence inside Chiaki's mind. Sometimes, those past shadows bleed through, confusing her, haunting her."
"But more than that," Rhaziel's voice grew colder still, "it made Chiaki unpredictable. Unstable. An uncontrollable force the government couldn't just imprison or silence. The link is part of why she's so dangerous—and why they want it severed, permanently."
He straightened, folding his arms.
Then, without warning, the very fabric of reality around Temoshí began to warp and fracture. Time stretched and slowed, the world turning to molten glass beneath his feet. The whispers began—low at first, like a breath against his skin, but quickly spiraling into a maddening cacophony echoing Rhaziel's voice from every direction. Each word clawed at his mind, fraying the edges of his sanity, pulling him deeper into a nightmare he could neither control nor escape.
His heart pounded violently in his chest, a wild drumbeat against the oppressive silence. A chill crept beneath his skin, freezing his blood in place. His breath caught, shallow and ragged. Then—a sudden, eerie sensation of something passing through him, cold and unnatural, like a shadow sliding through flesh and bone.
His eyes snapped wide, horror flooding in as something impossible happened. A ghostly hand, shrouded in the eerie white aura rimmed with flickering red embers—the very signature of Soul Severance—phased out from within his chest, reaching out behind him like a spectral limb tearing free from his body. It pulsed with a sinister life of its own, twisting and writhing, as if hungry for destruction.
Rhaziel's voice slithered close, dark and cold as a grave.
"Feel that? That's the emptiness spreading inside you. Your soul, ripped from your flesh, severed clean from the core of your being. You will become nothing but a hollow shell—a ghost trapped in a world you no longer belong to."
Before he could react, the air thickened and darkened as Rhaziel's form emerged from the shadows, silent and relentless—a wraith birthed from nightmare. The red-and-white aura around Rhaziel's hand crackled with malevolent energy, veins of power visibly pulsing through the air like lightning in a storm.
With chilling calmness, Rhaziel clasped the ethereal limb protruding from Temoshí's chest, fingers tightening like iron shackles. The aura surged violently, a tempest of cruel intent dragging something precious away with merciless force.
Temoshí's body convulsed violently, muscles spasming uncontrollably as a cold numbness began seeping from the phantom wound at his core, spreading like poison through his veins. His skin lost color, becoming translucent and fragile—as if he were fading into smoke, a shadow of himself dissolving into nothingness.
A hollow emptiness blossomed inside him, swallowing his will, his strength, his very essence.
Rhaziel's voice cut through the void, venomous and resolute:
"You fought with fire... but all flames burn out. Your soul is mine now—severed, broken, and discarded. You will know what it means to be hollow, to be erased."
The last flicker of life drained from Temoshí's eyes. His body collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut—limp, lifeless, and ghostlike against the cold stone floor.
Across the room, Blythe's breath hitched, his eyes widening in disbelief and raw terror. The unthinkable had happened—Temoshí's soul had been torn free, leaving behind only an empty shell. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating—like the final exhale of a dying world.
The blackness swallowed him whole—no light, no sound, no weight. An endless abyss stretching beyond anything he could comprehend. He felt himself fall, yet there was no ground, no air, no motion—only a void that pressed in on every side like a suffocating shroud.
In the center of this nothingness, a single flame flickered weakly—his only tether to existence. It pulsed like a heartbeat, fragile and trembling, fighting against the relentless darkness.
"What is this place? he wondered, his thoughts fractured and slow, like a dream dissolving at dawn. Why can't I move? Why does everything feel so hollow?"
The flame wavered. His breath caught in a throat that didn't exist. Reaching out was meaningless—his hands passed through empty air, grasping for something real, something solid, but finding only void.
"Am I… dying? No… this isn't death. It's worse. It's like I'm already gone—like I'm nothing."
The darkness stretched closer, licking at the edges of the flame, hungry to swallow it whole. The light flickered once more, then shuddered—and then it was gone.
The silence crushed down, heavier than any weight he'd ever known. In that moment, the awful truth whispered to him, cold and unyielding.
I am severed.
He struggled against the emptiness, against the silence that threatened to erase him completely.
"What does that even mean? Am I still me? Or have I become just a shadow… a ghost trapped between worlds?"
The void answered with nothing but its endless black—no hope, no mercy, no escape.
He was alone. Lost. Broken.
And somewhere deep inside, a faint voice echoed—his own, but distant, fractured.
"Who am I now… if not myself?"
To be continued...