The world tilted.
Jason Wu didn't immediately understand why—only that something in the air grew *heavier*, as if gravity folded twice over. The whispering forest around the clearing fell silent, like even the trees held their breath.
The Butcher stood there, unmoving.
He wasn't armored now. No mechanical enhancements visible. No mask. Just a man leaning on a chipped cleaver, his frame broad and scarred, each line across his skin like a chapter of a war Jason had never heard of.
Jason's breath hitched for half a second.
He had expected a monster.
He had expected a beast.
He had expected an abomination carved by the System or the Observers.
But this—
This was a man who had seen too much.
"Jason Wu," The Butcher rumbled, voice thick with gravel. "The one who lived."
Jason's grip tightened around the Longwu Sword. "You know me."
"Course I do," The Butcher said. "I was assigned to make sure you didn't exist."
Longwu hissed sharply in Jason's mind.
*["He's telling the truth."]*
Jason stepped forward. "You tried to kill my father."
The Butcher didn't flinch.
He didn't deny it.
But he also didn't smile like some cartoon villain.
Instead, he exhaled slowly—like a man dredging up a memory he didn't want to carry anymore.
"I did," he said. "Your father… was marked for Termination. By an Order above me."
Jason's jaw clenched. "Above the Observers?"
"No."
The Butcher tapped his temple.
"Above *them*."
Jason's heart thudded.
Even the Observers had someone above them?
Longwu's voice trembled—not in fear, but recognition.
*["Jason… be careful. Entities above the Observers are not meant to interact with this layer of existence."]*
Jason swallowed. "Then who gave the command?"
The Butcher chuckled once, dryly. "Kid, if I knew, I wouldn't be standing here. I'd be ash floating somewhere past the twelfth horizon."
Jason didn't understand that reference—yet even without explanation, it sounded terrifying.
For several heartbeats, they simply stared at each other.
Then Jason asked the question that had been burning in his chest:
"Why did you follow the order? Why did you kill him?"
The Butcher lowered his cleaver.
Not threateningly.
But slowly—tiredly.
"I don't follow orders," he muttered. "I enforce protocols."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "That's the same thing."
"No," The Butcher said. "I don't choose targets. I don't decide who dies. I am the blade, not the hand holding it."
Jason had heard enough.
With a snarl, he lunged.
His sword flashed—fast, fierce, desperate. Longwu hummed with fury, resonating with Jason's anger as his feet tore across the ground.
The Butcher didn't block.
He simply stepped aside.
Jason's blade sliced through empty air. The momentum pulled him forward, but he spun to regain balance, striking again.
Again—
The Butcher evaded with a slight shift of weight.
He never lifted his cleaver.
He never countered.
He simply *moved around* Jason's attacks like someone who had dodged these patterns a thousand times.
"FIGHT ME!" Jason roared.
The Butcher finally lifted his gaze, eyes weary.
"I'm not here to kill you, kid."
Jason froze—but only for a breath. Rage flooded him again.
"You murdered my father."
"Oi," Longwu snapped. *["Jason, listen—"]*
"No!" Jason barked, cutting the sword's voice off. "He doesn't get to survive this!"
The Butcher watched him quietly.
Not cowering.
Not mocking.
Just… observing.
When Jason launched forward again, The Butcher stepped in close—too close—and tapped Jason's chest with one finger.
Every nerve in Jason's body locked.
For a split moment, he couldn't move.
It wasn't paralysis.
It wasn't a technique.
It was experience—raw, brutal, perfect timing from someone far above Jason's realm.
Jason stumbled back, breath shaking.
The Butcher sighed. "Look. Back then… I didn't know who your father was. To me, he was another name on the Order. Another file. Another body."
Jason's voice broke. "And now?"
"Now I know he wasn't supposed to die."
The forest swayed.
Jason blinked.
"What?"
The Butcher rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Protocol flagged him as interference. But turns out the damn Protocol was corrupted. Someone fed it false data."
Jason's heartbeat stopped.
"Someone manipulated the Termination Order?" he whispered.
"Yes."
Jason's mind spun.
Someone framed his father.
Someone wanted him erased.
Someone wanted the Wu Lineage extinguished before it could rise.
But by who?
And why?
Jason took a slow step forward. "Why tell me this now?"
"Because," The Butcher said, staring at Jason with something almost like pity, "I'm not supposed to remember any of it."
Jason stiffened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," The Butcher muttered, "after every Termination, my memories get wiped. Clean slate. No guilt, no attachments, no doubts. Just a tool."
He tapped the side of his skull.
"But something went wrong years ago. I walked away from your father's Order… and a fragment stayed."
Jason's breath caught.
"You remember him?"
"Only pieces."
"…but enough."
Jason's hands trembled.
The Butcher continued, voice low.
"Your father didn't beg. Didn't run. Didn't break. He looked at me and said—"
He paused, brows furrowing as if digging into a fragmented memory.
"—'If the boy lives, that is enough.'"
Jason choked.
The Butcher lifted his cleaver—slowly, deliberately—and placed its blunt edge on the ground.
"The thing is, kid… I'm not here to kill you."
His voice cracked.
"I'm here because the Order for *you* was just issued."
Jason's blood ran cold.
"What?"
The Butcher nodded grimly.
"You've been marked. Just like your father."
Jason's fists clenched. "By who?"
The Butcher shook his head.
"That's above my clearance."
Jason stepped forward. "Then why warn me?"
The Butcher chuckled bitterly.
"Because I'm tired of being the blade."
A hum split the air.
Jason stiffened instantly.
Longwu hissed. *["Jason—behind you!"]*
A single strand of blue light dropped from the sky like a thread of silk.
It pierced the Butcher's chest.
Jason gasped. "NO—!"
The Butcher staggered, looking down at the wound. The light threaded deeper, unraveling him from the inside out like fabric coming undone.
His voice grew faint.
"…they found me."
Jason grabbed his arm, trying to hold him steady. "Stop talking—heal yourself—"
The Butcher laughed, a rough sound.
"Kid… I was never alive to begin with."
Jason's throat tightened.
The Butcher met his eyes—steady, clear, defiant.
"Listen."
Jason leaned closer.
"I don't know who's pulling the strings. But they fear you."
He coughed, body dissolving into glittering dust.
"They fear what you'll become."
Jason's hands shook as the last of the Butcher's form unraveled.
"But remember this—"
The Butcher's voice thinned, fading, but still fierce.
"Your father… didn't die for nothing."
Jason's vision blurred.
The Butcher smiled—tired, worn, but genuine.
"And Jason—"
A pause.
"Don't become like me."
The last of him scattered into the wind.
Jason fell to his knees.
The clearing was silent again.
Too silent.
Like the world was holding its breath, watching him.
Longwu whispered gently.
*["…Jason?"]*
Jason didn't answer.
His fists clenched in the dirt.
He lowered his head.
And for the first time since entering this realm—
Jason Wu cried.
Not loudly.
Not in rage.
But quietly, as someone who had just learned the truth:
His father was killed by a lie.
He himself was next.
And somewhere far above the sky, an invisible hand was moving pieces on a board he didn't yet understand.
Jason wiped his eyes.
Stood.
And breathed out one sentence, voice shaking but cold:
"…I will find the one who issued that Order."
Longwu shimmered in reply.
*[…and when you do, boy…]*
*[…we'll cut them together.]*
Jason turned, flames burning behind his eyes.
He walked toward the forest's edge.
A storm was coming.
A war he wasn't supposed to survive.
And an enemy that didn't want him to exist.
But Jason Wu was done running.
He stepped into the shadows.
And the sky split open far above him.