The sound hit her first—wet, sharp, final.
Akira's blade stopped mid-swing, trembling in her grip. Her eyes widened as the red haze dissolved into cold, merciless reality.
He was on his knees.
Blood spilled between his fingers as he clutched his side, gasping, staring at her like he didn't even know who she was anymore.
"…Aki?" His voice cracked, confusion and hurt tangled together.
The maze had gone silent.
No more jeering doubles, no more taunts—just the heavy breathing of those who had witnessed the strike.
Akira's heart dropped into her stomach. "No… no, no, no…"
She dropped her blade and caught him before he fell, her hands already shaking.
"You—" one of the allies snarled, stepping forward. "You killed him."
"I didn't— I—" Her voice broke. She couldn't explain the red fog. She couldn't explain why part of her still missed the thrill of it.
Someone ripped him from her arms, pulling her back like she was a threat.
Maybe she was.
And then, as if the maze itself could smell her fear, the walls shifted again—closing in.
From the shadows, a new voice whispered:
"You see? You can't run from what you are… and now, neither can they."