The world was quiet.
No sirens. No digital static. No gunfire or alarms. Just the soft creak of wood and the dry wind that blew through the open door of the abandoned house.
Riven stepped through first, holding the rusted knob for Kira. The door whined in protest, as if even the house remembered.
She hesitated.
Kira's boots hovered over the cracked threshold. The paint was chipped. The floor was warped and uneven from time and neglect. This place… it felt like something pulled from a forgotten dream.
Riven looked over his shoulder. "You've been here before."
Kira's eyes flicked around the room.
The wallpaper was faded—little stars and clouds, long peeled from the corners. A dusty couch sat crooked, and a broken ceiling fan hung by a single wire. Her head throbbed. She took a step in.
Thump. Thump.
Her heartbeat pounded louder with every step.
Suddenly.
Flash.
She saw it. A flicker of memory.
A little girl spinning in the hallway. Laughter echoing. A boy chasing after her, paper airplanes in hand.
"Kira! Don't run so fast!"
She staggered.
"Riven…" she whispered, more to herself than him.
He nodded slowly. "You remember."
They walked deeper into the house.
Each room brought echoes—of warmth, of joy, of a time when they weren't executioners, just… siblings.
Then she saw it.
On the shelf above the fireplace, half-buried beneath dust and a fallen curtain, was a photo frame.
Kira walked over.
Her hand trembled as she reached for it.
She wiped the dust with her sleeve.
Her breath caught in her throat.
There it was. A family photo. Four faces, all smiling. Riven with wild messy hair, Kira clinging to his back. Their mother's hand resting gently on her shoulder. Their father's arm around them all.
The image burned into her soul.
"Why…?" Her voice cracked. "Why did they take this from us?"
Her knees gave out. She collapsed to the ground, clutching the frame to her chest.
Tears fell.
Memories came crashing in like a broken dam. Training rooms. Scientists. Screams. The cold voice of Protocol overriding her name. K-0. Not Kira. Just K-0.
She sobbed.
"I didn't forget you…" she whispered. "They made me forget."
Riven knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
"I thought you were dead," he said softly. "what happened."
Kira remembering words of the scientist "My execution code granted me the power if Resurrection. The kept killing me to see my limit. They didn't care"
Kira's sorrow twisted into something else—fury.
She stood.
"I'll destroy them," she said, voice shaking. "Everything they took from me… every lie… I'll burn it all down."
Her digital sword materialized in her hand, crackling with unstable power.
Riven nodded, eyes filled with resolve.
"I'll be with you," he said. "Till the end."
Down below death protocol hq.
The room was lit with crimson veins, pulsing in sync with the digital core in the center of the chamber. Ten shadowed figures sat in their thrones—each one connected to the central system by thick neural cords.
Cigar walked in, coat trailing behind him. The room's atmosphere shifted—denser, darker.
"She's been compromised," Cigar said without flinching. "K-0 is remembering."
A low, electric hum buzzed between the council.
One leaned forward, voice distorted. "Then bring her back. Now."
"She is no longer stable," Cigar warned. "She'll question everything."
"She is a key asset," another snapped. "We have already lost dozens of Executioners. We will not lose her."
Cigar's voice was cold. "She's an asset and I know this."
Another councilor stood. "If Omega-0 returns… if the rift-maker awakens… we'll need her."
Another voice, this one trembled with unease. "Omega-0 will bring the end of the world."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Cigar's expression hardened.
"Then maybe it's time we tell them," he said. "The Executioners deserve to know what they're really fighting for. What they were made for."
One council member slammed their fist against the armrest. "No! That knowledge was sealed for a reason!"
Cigar turned.
"The cracks are already forming," he said, walking toward the exit. "You can't hold back the truth forever."
His hand gripped the steel doorframe.
And then, without turning back, he spoke again.
"When it all falls apart. We will be the first to perish."
The door hissed shut behind him.
And in the crimson chamber, the silence was no longer calm.
It was fear.