Kurogane Rei woke to the sound of metal scraping against metal. His body ached in ways he didn't know a thirteen-year-old should. The memories of the hammer, of the pain, still lingered in his bones, but the white room was gone. Now, he was in a barracks that smelled of wet concrete and burnt oil.
"Move," said a voice behind him, calm but sharp. Rei turned slowly, meeting the eyes of a boy about four years older, lean but coiled like a spring ready to strike. His hair was dark, cropped short, and his gaze measured Rei as if weighing him in fractions.
"You're Kurogane Rei," the boy said. There was no question, only observation. "I'm Hoshikawa Ren. I keep you alive. Follow me."
Rei didn't speak. He couldn't. Words felt heavy, like a stone lodged in his throat. Ren didn't wait. He moved with that quiet efficiency that made the others in the room flinch, though no one was loud enough to say it.
The barracks doors slid open. Beyond them, the city was a ruin of fire and smoke. Soldiers marched in perfect lines, children in harnesses scuttling like insects. Somewhere above, a banner flapped in the wind, pale as bone, bearing the symbol of Dominion Code.
"First mission today," Ren said without turning. "You'll see why you don't scream."
Rei was fragile, yet resilient. That was rare. Most children broke after a week in training; Rei had survived a month in the bonding chamber. He didn't know what kind of Relic the boy carried yet, only that it was dangerous. And danger needed a leash.
"Stay close," he said. "If you fall, I carry you out." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of steel. Ren's eyes swept the ruined streets. Civilians huddled, soldiers patrolled, and somewhere, the enemy had eyes. Today, the Relics would be tested. And they were always hungry.
The first target appeared without warning. An enemy squad had taken a building near the river. Rei's gut clenched. He wanted to look away, to pretend he wasn't part of this, but Ren's hand on his shoulder reminded him that pretending would get someone killed.
He raised his arm. A subtle pulse thrummed through him. Seraph-0 stirred beneath his sleeve, coiling like a serpent. Memories tugged at him—the river, the sunlight, the lullaby—but they were fading. Every activation would take a piece of himself he could never get back.
Ren moved first. A flash of steel, a breath, and a single soldier collapsed before Rei could even blink. There was no glory, no fanfare—only precision. Rei followed, his own pulse syncing with Seraph-0.
A wall exploded in front of him. Dust choked the air. Screams followed. Rei's Relic reacted before he even thought. The pulse of energy surged outward, ripping debris apart. A soldier's body went flying, caught midair in a web of invisible force. Rei's head spun. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that someone had died. He didn't know who.
(Villain pov)
From a rooftop across the ruined district, Kazumi Tatsumi watched. Tall, composed, eyes glinting in the twilight, his presence radiated confidence. In public, he was a savior—a hero of Dominion Code, charismatic and inspiring—but Rei didn't know him yet. He only saw the movement in the shadows.
"They have a new toy," Kazumi murmured to himself, a smile curling his lips. Fragile… promising. He had seen many children like Rei before—potential weapons, potential kings, potential monsters. All of them would kneel in time.
He raised a hand subtly, signaling agents hidden in the smoke. "Observe him," he said softly. "Let him learn to bleed for what comes next."
The mission escalated quickly. Enemy children wielded small Relics themselves. Their attacks were sloppy but dangerous. Ren moved like water, deflecting, striking, saving Rei from blows that would have shattered him instantly.
"Don't think," Ren said. "Just survive."
Rei's heart hammered. The Relic pulsed. Memory left him again—a fragment of laughter gone, replaced by an empty ache. His eyes widened as he realized that every time he used it, a piece of the boy he once was disappeared.
A scream cut through the chaos. Rei didn't flinch. He could not. Ren's eyes found his, a flicker of concern buried under cold calculation. They had work to do, and there was no room for hesitation.
By the time the building fell silent, the streets were littered with bodies—friend and enemy indistinguishable in the smoke. Rei's pulse slowed, but the emptiness in his chest did not. He looked at Ren.
"You… didn't die," Rei said softly, almost shocked that the man next to him was still standing.
Ren shrugged, wiping blood from his blade. "I told you. I keep you alive. That's my job. Don't make me regret it."
Rei swallowed. He didn't know if it was fear or relief—or the memory of something he could no longer recall.
Above them, Kazumi Tatsumi disappeared into the shadows. Someone to watch, someone to admire, someone to hate in time. Rei couldn't name him yet, but he would remember the smile.
And Rei knew, in a way children shouldn't have to know, that war wasn't about winning. It was about surviving long enough to become the weapon they wanted you to be.