Four Months Ago — Outer Mars Orbit
The void of space was painted with fire.
"Almost there..." Markus muttered, his voice ragged with focus, sweat trailing down his cheek despite the cockpit's freezing temperature. His battered fingers danced across the controls, each movement shaky but precise.
"I'm almost through... I'm going to make it—!"
But then—
LOCKED.A cold, mechanical tone echoed through his cockpit.MISSILE INCOMING.DANGER. DANGER.
His blood froze.
Red warning lights bathed the interior of the ship. The missile was closing fast—too fast.
"Dammit!" he hissed. "No—no no no!"
He slammed his hand against the emergency override—a massive red button on the side of the control panel.
I won't make it through the portal… but maybe…
"GO!"
ZZIP!
The cockpit hissed—detached—launched.
Just as the missile collided with the main hull.
BOOOOOOOM.
The explosion consumed everything behind him in a storm of white-hot fire and twisted metal. Even in the separated cockpit, the shockwave blasted through. Glass cracked. Alarms screamed. Sparks flew from the controls as smoke filled the tiny pod.
"Gah—!!"
His body flung forward, strapped only by thin restraints. His head slammed back. Blood trickled down his temple.
The pod hurtled toward the portal—but not centered.
Halfway in.Halfway out.
CRASH!
It clipped the side of the warp gate—twisting, spinning—caught in the distortion of broken space.
Markus saw stars… then nothing.
The coordinates failed.The engine fried.Everything spun into chaos.
His vision blurred—pain swallowing every inch of his body.
One breath.
Two.
Then darkness.
His broken body disappeared—Dragged into a fracture of space where no signal could follow.Far from Earth.Far from Mars.Far from home.
Pain didn't come in waves.
It came all at once.
Markus's vision was a strobe of blood-red and blackout. His body—shredded. Shrapnel was embedded deep in his side, stomach, and thighs. His right leg was crushed under the twisted frame of the cockpit, and something sharp was lodged beneath his ribcage. He could barely breathe.
BZZT… SKREEEE!The air inside the pod was electric with alarms.
Blood soaked his flight suit, pooling beneath him. He could feel it. Sticky. Warm. Heavy.
His body trembled violently as he slapped his helmet on, sealing the oxygen. But the moment it hissed to life—SPLUTCHA violent cough. Blood splattered across the visor, clouding his view with a deep crimson smear. His own reflection stared back, barely alive.
"I'm… going to die…" he whispered hoarsely.
He turned his head weakly toward the cracked window. Just darkness beyond the glass, and—
Wait.
A planet.
Unmarked. Far from the mapped zones. Its surface was cracked like a dried-out scar, its atmosphere clouded in gray-green mist. It looked abandoned—dead—but something felt off. The edges of the clouds shimmered unnaturally, almost like they pulsed.
His instincts screamed.
Go.
He didn't know why—but he listened.
Markus's shaking fingers found the thruster manual. The override was barely functioning, but he forced the last of the pod's reserve fuel to fire.
"GO!"
The cockpit rattled.
Gravity took hold.
And the planet pulled him in.
The atmosphere flared around him—flames licked the sides of the pod as it screamed through the upper clouds. But as he broke through… something changed.
The clouds parted to reveal—
Green.
Forests.
Not just dust and ruin—life.
Massive trees, far taller than anything from Earth or Mars, blanketed the surface like a canopy of spears. Their trunks were black and shimmering like obsidian, while their leaves glowed faintly silver, pulsing in rhythm with the winds. Strange avian shapes darted through the treetops—impossibly fast, leaving glowing trails behind them. Vines glimmered in soft gold along the ground.
His eyes widened slightly. "It's alive…?"
Then—
CRAAAAAAASH!!
The pod burst through the canopy.
Branches cracked like thunder.
The hull screamed as it collided with trunk after trunk, spinning and twisting, a meteor of flame and ruin.
BOOM!
The pod hit the forest floor like a comet, plowing into the soft dirt with an earth-shaking quake. The hull tore open on one side, half-crushed against a massive stone. Metal hissed. Smoke poured.
Inside—
Markus didn't move.
His helmet had shattered along the side. His left eye was filled with blood. One arm was crushed, the hand mangled beyond recognition, a mess of exposed bone and torn nerves.
He stared at it. He didn't even feel the pain anymore.
"I see…" he murmured, mouth flooding with copper. "This is how I die…"
His breath grew shallow.
The glowing trees above him swayed gently.
...then something else moved.
CLANK.
KRRRSSHH—!!
The pod door was being forced open. Metal screeched in protest.
"There's someone in here!"
A voice—female. Young. Fierce.
Another, older: "He's barely got a pulse. He's gone."
"No. Help me stabilize him!"
Markus blinked. His mind felt detached.
A voice... I must be hallucinating.
But he felt something cold jab into his neck.
Pain faded into static.
And before everything went black… he thought he saw—
light... Then total darkness..
???
Wet. Sticky. Cold.
Markus blinked as he stumbled forward through the suffocating darkness. His bare feet squelched against the ground with each step—squish, squish—as if he were walking on guts. The air reeked of rust and death, and the silence pressed against his ears.
"...Where… am I?"
His voice echoed unnaturally, as though the world around him was mocking the question. He looked down.
And stopped breathing.
There, floating just beneath the surface of the thick red liquid—a face.
Bloated. Pale. Lifeless. Its eyes wide open, staring directly at him.
"No—" Markus staggered back, his tail flicking through the blood. But it wasn't just one face. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. All gazing at him with empty eyes. "What the hell is this place?!"
A voice rang out, low and cold, as if it slithered straight into his ears.
"It's your mind."
Markus spun around, his ears twitching wildly, searching for the source. "Who's there?! Show yourself!"
He reached for the sidearms at his waist—only to grab at empty air. No weapons. No armor. Just his blood-soaked skin. His body was bare, vulnerable, as if stripped of everything he was. Even his tail drooped behind him, heavy with dread.
Then they came.
Figures, emerging from the sea of blood, surrounding him in a wide circle. All of them were demi-wolves—same ears, same tails—but their faces were blank. Completely featureless. Soulless shadows of his kind.
Markus didn't wait. He clenched his fist and drove it into the nearest figure's head.
CRACK. The faceless head exploded with a splatter.
And regrew a second later.
The figures leaned in. Their mouths opened wide—and spoke in unison.
"The last Blood Wolf… the last Blood Wolf… the last Blood Wolf…"
Their voices layered like a broken choir. Over and over again.
"Shut up!" Markus growled and began throwing punches, kicks, anything to silence them. "I said SHUT UP!!"
But nothing worked. His attacks did nothing.
Then he froze.
His right foot was stuck. The blood was rising.
"No…" He pulled, but it was like quicksand, thick and alive. "No, no, no—!"
The blood crept higher, past his knees, then his waist. The figures inched closer, chanting louder.
"DEMONS MUST DIE! DEMONS MUST DIE!"
"I'm not a demon!!" Markus roared, struggling violently. "Get off me! Get away from me!"
Then three of them stepped forward—Kaori.His mother.Ichigo.
Their faces were real. Whole. Untouched.
"Kaori? Mom?! Ichigo!!"
He reached out with his trembling hand, desperate. Hopeful. Terrified.
They turned their backs.
"No—! Please!! WAIT!!"
He sank deeper.
Blood filled his ears. His mouth. His nose.His eyes blurred. His lungs screamed.
Is this it…? Really?
Then the world whispered:
"Call upon the name of the Blood Wolf… and thou shall gain the power…"
And everything went white.
....
Markus blinked.
Warm.
Soft.
His cheek was pressed into cotton sheets that smelled faintly of home—old detergent and sunshine. He blinked again, slower this time, letting the softness cradle his senses. For a moment, he didn't move. His fingers curled against the blanket, his breathing unsteady.
Then his eyes widened.
This scent—this fabric—
His head lifted sharply. He sat upright, heart hammering. His long black wolf ears flicked in confusion, twitching at even the faintest breeze. His red eyes scanned the room frantically.
No...
The wooden desk. The slightly cracked window. The posters still hanging crooked on the walls. His old shoes half-tucked beneath the corner shelf.
His room.
The very one he'd left behind years ago.
This can't be real...
But then—his nose twitched.
He knew that smell. Warm eggs. Crisped toast. Fresh tea leaves brewed just right. It drifted up the staircase like a gentle embrace.
Then came the voice.
"Markus~! Food's ready!"
Soft. Sweet. A voice etched so deep in his bones it made his chest tighten instantly.
His ears perked up.
"No way..."
His heart threatened to burst.
He shoved the sheets away, swinging his legs over the bed too fast. In his rush, his foot caught in the tangled blanket, and he stumbled forward with a choked yelp.
"Ugh—!"
His shoulder slammed into the nightstand. A framed photo toppled over, clattering to the floor. Markus winced, rubbing his ribs. His face flushed.
But he didn't stop.
He scrambled upright, panting, his tail swishing behind him wildly. His breath hitched as he bolted for the stairs, bare feet pounding against the wood, each step echoing like a heartbeat.
He turned the corner into the kitchen—
And froze.
There she was.
Back turned, humming an old lullaby. Her long, soft white ears twitched in rhythm with the tune. Her delicate gray tail swayed gently with every motion as she stirred something on the stove.
Sunlight bathed the room in a golden hue. Dust danced lazily in the light.
His mother.
Alive. Whole. Moving.
She glanced over her shoulder with a warm smile, wiping her hands on a towel. "About time you woke up. Your breakfast is at the table."
He couldn't speak.
His lips trembled. His throat locked.
He stared—afraid that blinking would break it all.
Tears pooled in his eyes.
He took one shaky step forward.
Then another.
His knees buckled.
He dropped to the floor with a thud. Crawled. Reached.
When he finally reached her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight—like a child who had been wandering through hell.
"Mom…" he sobbed. "I missed you so much…"
She tensed—but only for a second. Then her hand slowly reached down, gently running through his messy black hair. Her fingers grazed the base of his ears, giving them a soft rub the way she always did.
She smiled down at him. "Easy now… I'm here. I've always been here."
His tail curled around her ankle, trembling with emotion.
He didn't want to let go.
Then—
"Big brother? Why are you crying?"
He froze.
His ears twitched sharply, and he turned with a gasp.
There—standing in the doorway to the kitchen—was a small girl with short, snowy white hair. Her fluffy white tail curled behind her shyly, and her bright eyes blinked in curiosity. Her little wolf ears stood tall on her head, twitching.
Kaori.
Her hands were tucked behind her back as she took a small step closer, tilting her head.
"You okay?"
Markus's breath left his body.
He staggered to his feet, nearly tripping again in his rush. His tail whipped behind him as he knelt down, arms wide open.
"Kaori…"
She smiled, warm and innocent.
He ran to her.
Kaori froze as Markus wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly—too tightly. His cheek nuzzled against hers, rough with stubble and sticky with tears.
"W-Wha—?! B-Big brother?!" she squeaked, her ears twitching frantically. Her tail stiffened and puffed up in embarrassment as she struggled in his grip. "What's gotten into you?!"
"I missed you… I missed you so damn much," Markus choked out, his voice raw. "Kaori… I thought I'd never…"
Before he could finish, she pushed back just enough to grab both of his cheeks and squish them hard between her palms, puffing his face like dough. "Big brother, you're so weird sometimes! Did you have a bad dream or something?"
He smiled wide, cheeks still pinched, as tears streamed down his face.
"It's just… I'm glad you're here…"
Before Kaori could answer, another groggy voice entered the room.
"Could you be any louder…" muttered Ichigo, stumbling into the hallway and rubbing one eye. His ears drooped, his hair sticking up like a nest, his tail dragging behind him in sleepy protest. "Some of us are trying to sleep, you kno—"
He opened his eyes fully.
Paused.
And saw Markus standing there in the middle of the room, arms spread wide like a lunatic.
"No, no, no—!"
Too late.
CRASH!
Markus lunged at him with a joyful war cry and tackled him to the floor. Plates rattled in the kitchen as the two rolled across the carpet.
"Dude—!" Ichigo groaned under the weight. "What the hell—?! Get off me—are you crying?!"
Markus's tears dropped onto his brother's cheek.
"…Ichigo…"
"…Tch." Ichigo looked away, cheeks red. "Good to see you too, I guess…"
Their mother turned with a wooden spoon in hand, clicking her tongue softly. "Alright, alright. Markus, you can hug them to death later. Come sit and eat before it gets cold."
Markus scrambled up with a sheepish laugh, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He sat down at the table, his tail curling around the leg of the chair like it always used to.
He took one bite—
And his eyes lit up.
"Mom… this is AMAZING!!"
She giggled softly as she served tea, "Same recipe as always, sweetheart."
Ichigo slumped into the seat across from him, grumbling. "Seriously… how can we have a mom who's such a good cook, and you who can't cook to save his life?"
Markus let out a genuine laugh.
It filled the whole house.
Thump. Thump.
Footsteps creaked behind him.
Markus froze, the fork halfway to his mouth. That sound… slow, firm, familiar.
A warm voice echoed gently.
"Oh, hi sweetheart. You're home."
Markus turned.
His breath caught in his throat.
"…Dad…"
There he stood—broad-shouldered and smiling. Alexander Sentryon, his silver hair neatly combed, still wearing his uniform jacket like always. The soft sway of his thick gray tail, the calm twitch of his ears… he looked just like Markus remembered him.
He approached slowly and placed a firm, gentle hand on Markus's head. "Someone seems to be in a good mood," he chuckled, giving his hair a playful ruffle.
Markus smiled, eyes trembling. "…Yeah… it's like I've been dreaming."
(If only this could last forever…)
His father sat at the table, opening a newspaper, legs crossed with ease. A deep silence passed.
Then his voice changed.
Calm. Final.
"Markus. It's time."
Markus blinked.
"…Time? Time for what?"
"You have to go now."
"No… I can't. I don't want to—"
His mother stood. Her smile didn't fade, but there was sorrow in her eyes now. "We're gone, Markus," she whispered.
Kaori gave a soft laugh from beside the table, her little hands behind her back. "Yup. We died, remember?"
The air grew colder.
Markus's hands trembled. "This… this isn't real… is it?"
"Ichigo…" His voice cracked.
Ichigo sighed from his seat, folding his arms and resting his chin in one hand.
"Don't start blaming yourself, idiot."
Markus clenched his fists.
"But it is my fault. I couldn't protect you. I should've been stronger—faster—!"
"No one guarantees survival in life," his father interrupted, folding his paper with a heavy exhale. "If anyone's to blame, it's me. I sent us to that planet. I misjudged the threat."
He stood once more, walking to his son with slow, firm steps. His hand landed on Markus's shoulder, firm and warm.
"But you're still alive. So don't lose yourself, son. Don't let grief eat you."
Knock. Knock.
Everyone turned.
Kaori tilted her head. "That's for you…"
His mother smiled. "You're not done yet, sweetheart."
Ichigo gave a lazy wave. "You've still got a war to fight."
Markus took a breath.
A deep, grounding breath.
"…Right."
He stepped toward the door, one foot in front of the other, his tail swaying slowly. His body felt heavy. But his heart beat steady.
"I'm not done yet. I still have to avenge you."
He placed his hand on the door.
"I still have something left to do."
The door creaked open.
Behind it… was light.
Warm. Blinding. Alive.
"Goodbye," Kaori's voice rang from behind, cheerful and brave.
"So long, big brother."
Markus stepped into the light.
And the dream ended.