The cold night air bit at Raden's skin as he and the Mage Breakers moved swiftly through the streets. The ghetto, ever silent and forsaken, lay beneath the pale moonlight, its broken buildings and cracked cobblestones whispering stories of despair. Yet tonight, Raden felt none of the usual dread. His pulse thrummed with anticipation. He had made his choice. The path ahead was uncertain, but there was no turning back now.
Kamebrow, tall and imposing in his dark robes, moved ahead, his green eyes scanning the surroundings. The other Mage Breakers flanked him, silent but deadly. They were a machine of destruction, their faces hidden behind cold, expressionless masks. And Raden, despite his reluctance, was a part of that machine now.
"We're going in quietly," Kamebrow instructed in a low voice, his words cutting through the tension of the night. "Get in. Get out. No mercy."
Raden swallowed, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. He didn't need to ask what Kamebrow meant by "no mercy." The Red Rabbits were a gang of ruthless criminals, known for their violence and their illegal dealings. But they were also people, and Raden couldn't help but wonder: were they all deserving of death?
There was no time for second-guessing now.
The building loomed ahead, a crumbling wreck of its former self. The Red Rabbits had made it their base of operations, the ideal hideout—hidden from the city's watchful eyes, tucked in the darkest corner of the ghetto. Raden felt his stomach churn as they approached. This wasn't a street brawl or a simple robbery. This was an execution.
As they neared the entrance, Kamebrow turned to Raden. "You're with me," he said, his eyes cold and unblinking. "We take the lead."
Raden nodded, though the tightness in his chest told him that he wasn't ready for this. Not really. He had been trained to fight, to survive—but he had never been trained to kill.
The door creaked open, and Raden stepped inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light. The sounds of laughter and clinking bottles echoed from a nearby room. The Red Rabbits, lost in their revelry, were oblivious to the storm coming their way.
Without a word, Kamebrow gestured for the group to spread out. The Mage Breakers were quick, their movements coordinated and precise, their faces blank with the cold resolve that only came from years of training. Raden followed closely behind, his heart pounding in his chest.
They didn't give the gang members a chance to react. Magic exploded in the air, a flash of blue lightning that crackled through the room, sending bodies flying. The Rabbits barely had time to reach for their weapons before they were cut down, one by one.
Raden moved with them, his blade striking down the first man who tried to fight back. His heart raced, but his hands were steady. It was strange—he had always been quick, always been able to react in the heat of battle—but this was different. There was no room for hesitation, no room for doubt. Kamebrow had made that clear. No mercy. No exceptions.
The fight was over almost as quickly as it had begun. The Red Rabbits were wiped out in a brutal, precise onslaught. But as Raden stood among the fallen, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The blood, the bodies—it didn't feel like victory. It felt like an erasure, a page torn from the story of this broken city.
He looked down at the man at his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. The man had been no older than sixteen, his face twisted in a final, silent scream. The realization hit Raden like a blow to the chest—he wasn't just a soldier. He was a killer. And the world had just become a whole lot darker.
Meanwhile, back in the heart of the empire, Jay's world was consumed by magic and training. He had come a long way since his arrival at the castle, but today, something felt different. The air in the training hall was thick with anticipation as he stood at the center, his heart pounding in his chest.
Shara, his instructor, stood before him, her green eyes sharp and calculating. She had taught him the basics—how to harness the raw power within him, how to focus his magic. But today, she wasn't smiling.
"Today, we test your control," Shara said, her voice steady but laced with authority. "You've been taught to channel your magic. But now, we'll see if you can do more than just unleash it. We'll see if you can control it."
Jay swallowed, his mouth dry. His training had been intense—hours of practice, learning to control the raw magic inside him, but this was different. He could feel the pressure building, the weight of Shara's gaze on him, the expectation that hung in the air like a storm cloud.
Shara raised a hand, and the room seemed to shift. The candles flickered, their flames dancing in response to her command. "Focus. Harness your magic, Jay. Focus on the target."
She pointed to a wooden figure in the corner of the room, a simple target, but one that would prove his control. Jay nodded, closing his eyes, reaching deep inside himself. The magic was there, always present, a surge of power ready to be unleashed.
He reached for it, pulling it into himself, feeling the familiar warmth spread through his limbs. The energy hummed beneath his skin, but this time, he didn't let it take control. He was the one in charge.
Slowly, carefully, he raised his hand and directed the magic toward the target. His breath came in shallow gasps, his concentration intense. But as the magic surged forward, it wasn't as clean as he'd hoped. It spiraled out of control, a wild, crackling arc of energy that slammed into the wall next to the target, splintering the wood and sending debris flying across the room.
Shara didn't flinch. "Again."
Jay's heart sank. This wasn't going as planned. He could feel the frustration building inside him, but he pushed it down, focused on the task at hand. The magic was inside him, but it was always a fight to keep it in check.
As he prepared to try again, his thoughts drifted to the ghetto—Raden, the streets, the choices they had made. The castle, the training—it was all so different. So far removed from the life he had once known.
Shara's voice snapped him back to reality. "Focus, Jay. Magic is not just a tool. It is a weapon. And weapons require precision."
Jay's hands shook slightly as he took his position again. This time, when he unleashed the magic, it was controlled. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress. The target splintered under the force of his energy, but it wasn't the uncontrolled blast it had been before.
Shara nodded, her expression unreadable. "Better. But it will take more than that to survive in this world."
Jay nodded, but inside, he couldn't help but wonder: What kind of world was this? A world of mages, magic, and power. A world where people like Raden—like him—were being shaped into weapons.
Back in the ghetto, Raden wiped the blood from his blade, his hands trembling. The Mage Breakers were moving out, their mission complete. Jimmy the Butcher and the Red Rabbits were no more. The streets were quiet once again.
But Raden felt no relief. The mission had been successful, but at what cost? He looked down at the bodies, the lifeless eyes staring up at him, and a wave of nausea washed over him.
Kamebrow appeared at his side, his expression unreadable. "You did well," he said, his voice colder than the night air. "But you're not done. Not yet."
Raden didn't answer. He didn't need to. The weight of the night's events pressed down on him like a crushing weight, and he knew that this was only the beginning. The Mage Breakers weren't just a part of the empire—they were a force, and Raden had just been marked as one of them.
He had chosen his path. Now, there was no going back.