"What have you done, Hayashi?"
Hikari's voice cracked like a whip through the chamber, sharp enough to draw blood if words could cut. Her silver hair, tied tightly into a ponytail, lashed behind her like a streak of moonlight, swaying with the violent shake of her head. Her chest rose and fell quickly, rage burning in her steel-colored eyes as they locked on the man kneeling in the center of the council chamber.
Hayashi's forehead touched the cold stone floor. His breath came shallow, every inhalation louder than it should've been. The leaders of the base—an arc of living titans in black ceremonial robes—watched in silence. The half-circle felt less like a council and more like a firing squad, their eyes leveled like weapons at the disgraced officer.
"I'm sorry, Master," Hayashi's voice wavered, though he tried to keep it steady. "With you, along with Master Kazuki and Takashi, away with the Alpha squad, I had no choice but to make the next logical decision."
"Logical?" Hikari's hands slammed against the long oak table before her, the crack of impact echoing through the chamber like thunder. "You call that logical?" Her silver eyes glistened—not just with fury, but with the sting of loss she wouldn't admit aloud. "You could have pulled the Gamma team out before you ordered that launch."
Hayashi's head jerked up in desperation. "I thought they were already dead before the strike landed—"
"Thought?" The word left Hikari's lips like venom. "You gambled with lives! You lit the sky with fire while they still fought below!"
Kazuki, the eldest of the council, leaned forward. His presence was quieter but far heavier, like the weight of a mountain sliding into place. His beard shifted as he spoke, his voice solemn. "Is this true? Were they alive when you ordered the launch?"
Hayashi swallowed hard. "Well, yes… sir. But I judged their survival impossible. Better to destroy the demon completely than risk—"
"Liar."
The word dripped from Hikari's tongue like acid. Her silver hair swung forward as she stepped toward him, her fists trembling. "I felt his aura. A Gamma was still alive. One of them still clung to hope, clung to life, and you chose to erase it."
The silence that followed pressed on every chest in the room.
"Calm yourself, Hikari," Master Takashi finally spoke, his voice smooth as silk but twice as cutting. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms casually, as though lives were weights on a scale he'd long stopped caring about. "They were only four minor Gamma operatives. Four hopeless souls with no future in our ranks. Without power, without purpose… what would survival have bought them anyway? A few more hours of fear?"
Hikari spun toward him, her chest heaving. "How dare you—"
"Enough," Kazuki cut through, his authority snapping the room back into stillness. His eyes never left Hayashi, who trembled visibly now under the collective judgment of the Masters. "Hayashi, you may leave."
The kneeling man bowed again, relief washing faintly over his face like water over cracked stone. He backed away slowly, keeping his head low until the chamber doors closed behind him.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint hiss of the storm outside the base walls.
Kazuki sighed, his tone colder now. "We might need to sacrifice these Gammas from time to time. They are pawns—fodder to the greater design. Their loss weighs little against the mission. Our eyes should remain fixed on the Alphas, Betas, and especially on the trainees among the Gamma preparing for their promotional exams."
Takashi gave a low hum of agreement. "The cycle continues. The strong ascend. The weak… burn away."
Hikari's fists tightened at her sides until her nails drew blood and her fist caught ablaze. She turned her gaze away, but not before her voice sliced through the chamber one last time—low, bitter, and trembling with restrained fury.
"Keep calling them pawns, if it helps you sleep. But don't forget—pawns bleed just as red as kings."
And with that, she stormed out, leaving the weight of her anger hanging in the chamber like the lingering echo of a funeral bell…
***
The demon's claw struck again. Hanzo blocked once, twice—each impact shrieking sparks into the air like furious fireflies. His blades trembled under the force, metal whining against unnatural power. Then came the third blow, faster, heavier, merciless. His guard shattered with a crack, steel flung from his grip as though the blades themselves recoiled in terror.
"No—!" Renji's voice cracked, ragged with panic, as he stumbled forward. His heart hammered against his ribs, beating out a frantic drum of disbelief.
The beast's taloned hand drove through Hanzo's chest with sickening ease. The sound was wet, final. For one suspended heartbeat, Renji saw his friend's eyes widen—not in terror, but in quiet, resigned acceptance. Blood bubbled on Hanzo's lips as he coughed, a crimson spray painting the air. He turned his head just enough to meet Renji's gaze.
"Stay… alive," Hanzo rasped, his voice splintering with pain, yet carrying the weight of a final command.
Renji's throat closed. His legs rooted to the ground, unable to obey, unable to do anything but watch.
Then, with a savage twist, the demon lifted Hanzo's body as if he weighed nothing, tearing him apart with the careless violence of a child ripping paper. The sound was unbearable—bones snapping, flesh rending. Hanzo's scream was cut short, his body falling in halves to the dirt.
"NO!!!!"
Renji's roar split the air, his grief jagged and raw. The world seemed to collapse around him in that moment. His chest felt crushed under invisible weight, his vision a blur of tears and fury. He lunged at the monster, sword swinging in blind defiance. But his strike was weak, trembling with rage and heartbreak. It barely grazed the demon's hide, leaving a shallow mark that mocked him.
The demon's eyes glowed like burning coals. It struck back. Claws raked across his face, fire exploding in his skull. Pain so sharp, so blinding, Renji didn't even hear his own scream. Darkness swallowed him, thick and absolute.
---
Renji bolted upright in his bed with a wet gasp. His chest heaved, lungs dragging in air as though he'd been drowning. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. Outside, a storm raged, rain lashing against the window in sheets, thunder cracking across the sky.
He looked around, disoriented. The familiar floorboards beneath his feet. The narrow windows. The small, well-worn bed. His home.
But how? His mind reeled. Just how… am I still alive?
He staggered to his feet, the wooden floor groaning under his weight, and crossed to the dresser in the corner. His reflection stared back at him in the tarnished mirror. At first glance, he seemed the same—skin unscarred, body whole. No trace of the battlefield. No trace of Hanzo's death.
And yet… something was different.
Renji leaned closer. The boy he remembered—the skinny youth with spiky hair—was gone. In his place stood a man. His frame was wiry but strong, muscles coiled like ripcord beneath his skin. His shoulders carried a weight he had never known before. His hair was longer now, sleek and dark, falling in smooth strands that curtained half his face.
A shiver ran through him. Memory flared—sharp claws, searing agony across his eyes. Trembling, he lifted a hand and brushed the hair aside.
The mirror did not lie.
Where his right eye should have been, a demonic orb with a slit iris glared back at him, glowing faintly like an ember. Veins of red light spidered out from the socket, crawling across the right side of his face in jagged lines, like cracks in broken porcelain. His own reflection looked back at him with a stranger's fury, with something monstrous lurking in its depths.
Renji's breath caught. His stomach turned to ice. That eye wasn't human. It wasn't his. It belonged to the very nightmare that had taken Hanzo from him.
And yet it was bound to him.
A sudden feeling made him turn like an involuntary reflex movement. In the center of his room was a man's spirit.
"The seal has broken. The blood of the Demon Lord stirs within you."
" Who are you?" Renji inquired.
" Your father…"