The Silver Warrior stood before the suspension bridge.
He did not step onto it.
The wind gathered at his feet, as if forced into service.
He reached down and picked up a long bow lying beside the campfire.
His fingers sifted through the quiver, searching, testing.
He drew out an arrow.
The razor tip tilted ever so slightly—
and the air seemed to split into a thin, invisible line.
He studied it for two heartbeats.
Then he slid it back into the quiver,
as casually as a man setting aside a favorite toy he wasn't in the mood to use.
He chose another.
A blunt arrow.
The tip was nothing more than a solid ball of cast iron—
heavy, dull,
made to crack bone without killing.
His voice was quiet when he spoke:
"I want you to suffer…
more than death."
The words fell slowly,
as if gravity itself hesitated to bear their weight.
Wei's legs buckled beneath him, and he nearly dropped to his knees.
The fog split open in his vision—
and at last he saw her.
Chun.
The girl who never stopped arguing with him, out-braving him,
out-daring him,
the one who always got under his skin in the loudest, brightest ways.
Now…
she could barely stand.
She swayed where she was,
like a flower beaten senseless by a wild, merciless wind.
The girl who once argued about everything, who feared nothing,
now couldn't even keep her footing.
An ill-timed memory crashed into Wei's mind.
That day they'd fought like cats and dogs—
all because he'd eaten the wild berries she'd been saving.
Chun had planted her fists on her hips, furious.
"Did you not see the sign on the basket? Those were for the baby rabbit!"
Wei had bristled right back.
"The rabbit can't read! What's the point of writing it?"
Chun had choked on her retort, her face turning bright red.
At last she stomped her foot and snapped,
"Could you just—be nicer to me for once?"
It was the first time she'd ever raised her voice at him.
And the next second, as if regretting it, she muttered under her breath,
"…I'm not mad. I just… don't always want you treating me like this."
He hadn't understood what that meant back then.
Not the weight of it.
Not the softness underneath.
Now he did.
Three meters more, and he could throw himself forward.
He broke into a run.
The narrow bridge swayed even harder beneath his feet.
-----------------
In reality, the dark assassin's hand tore into Chun's back like a steel blade.
Crack—
The first rib snapped.
The sound was soft, almost delicate—
like breaking an old piece of wood that had soaked too long in water.
Chun's back seized violently from the pain, her whole body twisting into a bowed arc.
The sound forced from her throat was no longer human—
a ragged, animal howl,
the kind a creature makes when it's being torn apart with no hope left at all.
The fog recoiled—
as if that single strike had pushed it back half an inch.
Wei saw the jolt,
but his mind refused to accept that it had come from her body.
His feet felt nailed to the ground.
His breath jammed somewhere in his throat and would not pass.
The dark assassin examined the blood-slick rib in his hand,
as though studying a toy freshly taken apart.
He pinched the bone between his fingers, testing its firmness,
and then—
with the care of someone placing down a treasured keepsake—
set it quietly beside his knee.
No flourish.
No wasted movement.
It felt like witnessing an ancient, sacred ritual of removal.
His black hand reached again into Chun's chest.
Crack—
The second rib.
Lighter than the first,
but colder.
Chun's shoulders jerked as if tugged by invisible strings,
then collapsed again, boneless.
Her howl was fading now, thin and frayed.
Wei's face drained of color.
He opened his mouth—
but no sound came out.
The fog seemed to swallow every breath he tried to push free.
The world shrank to that one sound of breaking bone.
The assassin lowered his head once more.
He studied the second rib,
as if considering the material for a weapon.
That calmness—
that unshakable calm—
was more terrifying than rage.
He set the bone beside the first.
Two ribs, neatly aligned,
their smeared red flesh glowing like something obscene.
The black hand slid in again, even deeper this time.
The motion was quiet,
almost contemplative—
like a writer pausing before the next stroke of the brush.
Then—
Crack—
The third rib snapped.
This one sounded heavier.
A strike on stone.
A strike on Wei's heart.
Chun's body shivered—
then sagged.
Like a rain-soaked little creature with no strength left to cry.
The wind stopped.
The fog froze.
Even the suspension bridge seemed nailed in place.
The dark assassin paused for half a beat,
as if awaiting a divine signal before continuing.
That sliver of silence was more maddening
than all the screams that had come before.
At last he lifted his gaze.
He looked at the three ribs arranged at his knee—
admiring them
as though the work was now complete.
Then—
He let go of Chun.
Her body tipped forward.
No sound.
Not a whisper.
She hit the planks of the bridge like a piece of cloth
someone had crushed in their hand
and tossed aside without a thought.
Blood bloomed through the fog,
a muted, dark red flower.
Slow.
Shy.
Hopeless.
Wei froze.
Even his heartbeat forgot to move.
For the first time, he understood—
a person could lose their life
with this much quiet.
A girl who used to be spring itself…
and now he couldn't even hear her breathe.
His vision went black.
Stars scattered across the darkness.
Then—
Anger.
Pure, consuming anger.
He roared and hurled himself at the monster.
These undead things,
these creatures that treated human lives like dirt—
"You—
all of you—
deserve to die!!!"
Whsst—
A strange whistle cut the air.
Wei didn't even see what hit him.
Pain burst at the back of his skull.
The world spun.
He slammed forward, face-first, ears ringing like they'd burst.
Warm liquid trickled down from his forehead.
Blood.
The metallic tang filled his nose,
a harsh reminder
of how cruel reality could be.
Darkness surged in.
Swallowed him whole.
He thought he heard Chun calling him.
A sharp voice, torn by wind,
thin as a cry echoing from the bottom of a well.
But…
he could no longer see her.
The darkness spread,
rising like water,
closing over his head
until everything was gone.
…