The city of Capriha still groaned under the weight of scars. Skyscrapers leaned like broken teeth against the skyline. Whole districts sat in darkness, flickering only with pale emergency lamps and the glow of fire barrels on street corners. Dust and glass crunched under the soles of the few survivors that still dared to walk the night.
Inside the marble rotunda of the provisional government hall, the air was tight with whispers. World leaders, flanked by soldiers, had just dismissed Raijin and Gendai after their meeting. Outside, the evening mist settled like smoke across the ruined plaza.
Raijin walked beside Gendai in silence. His green eyes caught the way her hands trembled, clenched tight against her sides. She hadn't said a word since they left the chamber. The flicker of her aura felt off—chaotic, restless, dangerous.
Finally, he stopped at the shadow of a crumbling statue and turned toward her."Gendai… what was that in there?" His voice was calm, almost pleading. "You sounded like—like you wanted them to turn against Kazimir."
She froze, shoulders shaking. Then, slowly, she turned to him. Her pupils were sharper than usual, a feral gleam shimmering inside. The scarlet tint of her succubus nature rippled faintly under her skin.
"I'm tired, Raijin," she hissed, her voice brittle, layered with venom. "Tired of pretending. Everywhere we go, it's Kazimir this, Kazimir that. The savior, the destroyer, the one who decides everything. What about us? What about me?"
Raijin's chest tightened. He stepped closer, lowering his tone."Gendai… you don't mean this. You've fought beside him. You've bled for him. Don't throw that away now."
But her laugh was sharp, almost manic."Throw it away? He threw me away first. Left me in the dark while he played god. Do you even realize how many times I've been nothing but a shadow behind him and Riah?!"
She lashed out suddenly, her aura flaring—shards of raw demonic energy cutting the mist apart. Raijin staggered back as the ground cracked under her heel. Sparks danced against his cheek.
"Stop!" he barked, his voice booming with thunder. His hand tightened on his blade's hilt, but he didn't draw it. "This isn't you. This is the hurt talking. Don't let it turn into hate."
But her eyes were wet with fury and grief, tears ran down her eyes. She leaned close, her whisper colder than the night air:"Then maybe hate is all I have left, Raijin. Maybe it's the only way to be seen."
The street fell silent, broken only by the distant sound of rubble shifting in the wind.
Raijin stared at her, jaw tight, as if seeing someone he didn't recognize. The Gendai he knew—the one who once smiled awkwardly in the garden, who trained endlessly to catch up, who longed for belonging—was buried under this storm.
And he had no idea if he could pull her back.