BOOM—
A sudden flash of lightning dyed the entire world its color. It wasn't the lifeless white of an instant flash, nor was it an eerie, bewitching purple. It was crimson, a crimson red like blood.
The thunder rolled on ceaselessly, and the lightning seemed as if it would never stop. The rain, of course, continued to fall, drifting lazily downward, only to shatter against the rebar tentacles extending from the ruined walls. The broken raindrops scattered like jade fragments before silently merging into a pool of water in a low-lying area beneath the rubble.
Splat—
The next moment, a staggering figure stepped into the puddle and promptly fell.
"Hah—huff—hah—huff—hah—argh!"
Raiden Ryoma clutched his abdomen with his left hand. With his right, he shoved a bent and deformed piece of rebar under his knee, trying to straighten it. He then jammed it hard into the uneven ground, using it to try and pull himself up.
But he had clearly overestimated the stability of the pile of broken bricks. The rebar slid abruptly, and he collapsed back to the ground with a muffled groan.
"Hah—hah—hah—"
He gasped for air. The wound in his abdomen had at first sent waves of pain to his brain, drawing intermittent groans from him. But under the wash of the icy rain, the nerves around the wound gradually went numb. If not for the warm, sticky liquid, so different from the rainwater, that continued to ooze from where his hand was pressed, he wouldn't have even realized the gash was still there.
Raiden Ryoma lay there, as if he had given up all struggle.
He didn't know what time it was, but he felt that not much time had passed since the disaster struck. Yet the winter night always came so early. The full moon, which should have symbolized reunion, had already drifted to the center of the night sky without him noticing. The blood-red clouds that stained the heavens had even parted for it, as if afraid he wouldn't be able to see it.
He'd heard that during a total lunar eclipse, the once pure, white moonlight would also be stained crimson. He didn't know if there was supposed to be an eclipse tonight, or if the terrifying lightning had tainted the moon this color, but none of it mattered anymore.
The crimson moon shone upon a crimson city, and upon a world gradually approaching its end.
"Mei... so you really did... become a Herrscher? Heheheh... Hahahaha!"
Raiden Ryoma felt he was ridiculous, hypocritically so.
Eight years ago, although it was Michael who suggested that implanting the Gem of Conquest into Mei could cure her terminal illness, this treatment had absolutely no theoretical basis. If he hadn't given the final approval, how could it have ever been put into action?
He knew eight years ago that this day would come, yet he had made no preparations for it, simply coasting through those eight years on a sliver of wishful thinking.
Admittedly, when he met with Michael yesterday afternoon, the man had confessed to having the ability to alter people's memories. Taking a bold leap of imagination, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume he could also alter people's perceptions, right?
Perhaps that was for the best. As long as he could convince himself that his wishful thinking was all a result of Michael's guidance, then he himself was blameless.
But he couldn't fool himself with such words.
The ability to affect consciousness sounded powerful, but nothing in the world could be perfect. After all, what was altered was merely consciousness and perception; the facts themselves would not change.
For instance, if a person didn't know they were in a dream, they might find the dream very realistic. But once they became lucidly aware they were dreaming, the lines and colors of the dreamscape would seem far too simplistic to be convincing.
Of course, even if Michael had done all this, wouldn't Raiden Ryoma still be guilty of poor judgment, of letting a wolf into his home?
If Michael heard this thought, he would probably be unable to resist a retort:
"Just like your daughter, taking all the blame on yourself."
In just that moment of distraction, the rain once again blurred his vision.
"Hmph..."
Raiden Ryoma grunted. The muscles all over his body tensed, and the wound in his abdomen, which had almost been frozen numb by the cold rain, finally sent a flicker of pain.
His hand fumbled through the brick fragments, his palm quickly becoming a mess of torn flesh, but he still inched his way sideways until his back was resting against a broken wall.
The pain in his hand also gradually faded under the rain's assault. He felt strangely unaccustomed to his empty hands and groped around beside him until he found the rebar that had been his companion on his escape from the detention center.
"Heh... heheh... To think the thing that would stay with me until the end would be this piece of junk."
The heavy prison uniform, soaked with rain, clung coldly to his body, making him feel nauseous. Raiden Ryoma sat up a little straighter, unbuttoning it one button at a time. He peeled off one half of the garment, then rested against the wall for a moment before removing the other half.
The cold wind scraped across his bare upper body, as if trying to carve the countless scars a little deeper, a little longer.
The wounds were innumerable; the one on his abdomen was merely the longest and deepest among them.
A raindrop landed squarely on a wound, awakening a sliver of pain, but it was quickly replaced by numbness. Raiden Ryoma smiled. At least he was free from that cold, clammy prison uniform that had been suffocating him, wasn't he?
He suddenly tossed the rebar in his hand into the rubble.
His luck really had been spent on all the wrong things. He wasn't turned into a zombie in the first moments, nor was he crushed to death in that long, narrow corridor like most of the others.
He had escaped. But so what? If he had a choice, he would wish that none of this had ever happened. He would wish that the one who "escaped" was his daughter... And if all this had to happen, why couldn't he have just died before he even realized what was going on?
"Mei... Mei... Mei..."
Leaning against the rough wall, Raiden Ryoma's consciousness began to fade, his mouth still murmuring his daughter's name.
BOOM—
A bolt of lightning pierced the heavens. The thunder was so violent that Ryoma felt his insides churn, but his mind, surprisingly, became clear.
At the same time, a flash of inspiration went through his mind—
"Mei... I can't fall here... Being a Herrscher doesn't mean... Right! So what if she's become a Herrscher? There's still hope! Isn't the Alliance Leader a Herrscher too!"
He was about to search again for the rebar he had thrown away. It was his only weapon, his only support.
But this time, his luck wasn't so good. He had just managed to kneel up when he staggered again, his entire upper body plunging into the puddle of red rainwater.
"Cough... cough cough... Ptooey!"
The red water splashed into his mouth. He couldn't tell if the nauseating taste was the tang of earth or the taste of blood.
"Mei... wait a little longer... just wait for me a little longer..."
In a daze, the thunder seemed to fade away. But even without the lightning, the entire world remained a shade of crimson, as if it were soaked in blood.
Or perhaps, it wasn't the world soaked in blood, but his own eyes.
"Urgh... Aaaah..."
If you still have something you must do, you can endure any kind of pain, right?
Raiden Ryoma stood up. He finally stood up again. Though he didn't know where Mei was now, and though he knew it was a childish fantasy to hope that the Herrscher-fied Mei would fight for humanity like the Alliance Leader, as long as he was standing here, as long as he could still stand, then there was still hope!
Squelch—
"Gack! Cough—cough cough—"
It all happened too suddenly. Raiden Ryoma had just found a hard-won glimmer of hope, and now it was all shattered.
He lowered his head jerkily, staring at the right hand that had pierced through his chest. Even though the hand was bathed in blood, even though it was gripping a pulsing, contracting lump of flesh, he recognized its owner instantly—
"Mi—"
His heart was crushed. Raiden Ryoma never managed to leave any last words before all signs of life vanished.
Michael silently withdrew his hand. The fragments of the heart and the scalding blood dripped back to the ground under the pull of gravity, merging with the crimson puddle.
"A nice thought, Raiden Ryoma," Michael said to himself, speaking to the man's corpse.
"But it's a pity. You knew too much."
Michael wasn't some kind of homicidal maniac. He didn't have to kill Raiden Ryoma.
If not for their confrontation yesterday afternoon, Michael would have had no reason to kill him. In fact, considering his friendship with Mei, he would have even taken the initiative to save him.
But since Ryoma had already noticed something was wrong with him, there was nothing left to say.
Sure, he could have used the power of Sentience to alter Raiden Ryoma's memories, to make him forget his suspicions.
But why should he? On what grounds?
Michael had to admit one thing—Raiden Ryoma was very sharp.
Most people, when faced with an unreasonable ability like the power of Sentience, would only feel deep despair and powerlessness. But Raiden Ryoma had calmly analyzed its greatest weakness.
Just as he had thought, the power of Sentience could only change consciousness and perception; it couldn't change established facts. This seemingly omnipotent power was, in reality, a tree without roots.
Michael certainly could have chosen not to kill him, instead using the power of Sentience to alter his mind or even control him. But that carried risks. Since Raiden Ryoma had been able to see through it once, he could naturally do it a second time. In the time to come, Michael had neither the time nor the inclination to watch him constantly, continuously brainwashing him. If Ryoma ended up affecting the entire plan, that would be a disaster.
So, it was better to just kill him. Dead men tell no tales. And killing didn't cost much—just reach in, take the heart, and crush it. Simple as that.
What reason did Michael have to keep Raiden Ryoma alive anyway?
For Mei? He was no longer the same Michael who couldn't bear to see people sad. Besides, what did Mei's happiness or sadness have to do with him? He just needed her to follow the path he had set, step by step, to the very end. That was the fundamental nature of their relationship.
As for Raiden Ryoma's death, he just needed to make sure Mei didn't find out he was the killer before the planned turning point arrived.
Or rather, precisely because their relationship had become too close, he needed this hatred. He needed it so that one day in the future, she would be able to strike him down without hesitation.
Two birds with one stone, wasn't it?
Michael raised his right hand. The increasingly sparse rain was not enough to wash away the blood on his palm and fingertips, not to mention the bits of Raiden Ryoma's flesh still caught under his nails.
He paused, then suddenly chuckled. As his shoulders shook, he brought his right hand to his mouth and licked each finger clean.
"You see, knowing too much, thinking too much... it can cost you your life..."
Michael smiled as if talking to himself, but the next moment, he twisted his head, displaying the shreds of flesh and blood between his teeth with a grotesque grin.
"Wouldn't you agree? Hiding over there, watching the whole thing. What are your thoughts?"
With a clatter, a broken brick rolled down. At the same moment Michael spoke, a black shadow streaked through the blood-red city. A long, azure sword, held in a reverse grip, slashed toward Michael's neck.
CLANG—
What blocked the blade was a greatsword flickering with flames.
"No... impossible! How could he have the Judgment of Shamash?"
Lixue was stunned for only a moment. The next instant, all her Honkai energy surged into her sword, Ruoshui.
The drifting raindrops within a radius of several hundred meters instantly changed course, shooting toward the man before her. But he first twisted his wrist, forcing Lixue, who had no leverage in mid-air, back. Then, he staggered and twisted his body as if drunk, the Cleaver of Shamash swinging in a circle, evaporating all the needle-like raindrops.
"Don't underestimate me!"
From the puddle at Michael's feet, the red water coalesced into a tentacle, wrapping directly around his left leg. It continued to coil upward, binding him to his chest in the blink of an eye.
The rest of the liquid swirled around Lixue's body, gathering into a massive water dragon. With her cry of "Go!" the seven or eight-meter-thick dragon soared into the air, spun once, and then charged straight for Michael.
"Alas..."
Michael sighed. The intense heat emanating from the Cleaver of Shamash vaporized the tentacle trying to bind him. However, the water dragon Lixue had conjured had already reached him, the timing perfectly calculated.
"I see..."
He then remembered. During the Second Honkai Eruption, this girl had faced a pseudo-Herrscher of Flame. She had learned from her past mistakes and had now improved.
When bound, a normal person's first reaction would be to break free. Lixue had anticipated this. The reason the water dragon first soared into the air before turning to strike was not for show; it was to time the attack.
She gave Michael time to use his flames to vaporize the tentacle. But how long could the intense heat from the power of Flame last? At least, the pseudo-Herrscher of Flame she had faced, and Siegfried using the Judgment of Shamash, could only maintain that heat for an instant. Any longer, and they would suffer irreversible damage themselves.
And once that heat faded, Michael would have to face her water dragon head-on.
Of course, she didn't rule out the possibility that Michael would wait until the water dragon was upon him to unleash his power of Flame. But even so, she would lose nothing. It would just be a normal exchange. There might even be a pleasant surprise—the massive amount of steam created from the evaporation wouldn't cool down immediately and might even scald Michael.
Reality seemed to follow her script. Michael immediately vaporized the tentacle with intense heat, and the water dragon arrived just in time.
Factoring in his reflexive reaction, her timing was exquisite. If her opponent hadn't been Michael, it would have been a perfect attack.
But for Michael, the reason he had vaporized the tentacle without hesitation was simple—he didn't care.
He had far too many ways to deal with the ensuing water dragon. He was neither a half-baked pseudo-Herrscher of Flame nor a Kaslana with degraded genes. A temperature of five thousand degrees was not even a sauna for a "Cocoon" like him.
Besides that, he had eleven other powers he could use to stop this water dragon. The reaction time he spent choosing a power was longer than his moment of surprise.
Sploosh—
The water dragon shattered against Michael's face, the remaining droplets drifting slowly down through the air, as if an invisible wall stood before him.
"This is! No... Who are you? Why do you have the power of the Herrscher of the Void... Ah, you're the one Senior Sister Ling Shuang mentioned—"
"Yes, that's me." Michael squeezed out a smile.
"But it's a pity. Since you've seen something you shouldn't have, I can only ask you to rest somewhere else for a while. It's for the best, really. As the sole public survivor of the Snow Wolf Squad, you must want to be reunited with your comrades, right?"
A visible spatial ripple spread out from Michael. Lixue immediately retreated, only to be bound tightly by golden chains.
Then, what appeared before her was a brand-new world.