The rain wouldn't stop.
It hammered the rooftops, drowned the streets, and washed the city in cold neon light. High above the sleeping world, two shadows stood facing each other—silent, unmoving, as if the entire storm waited for them to speak.
Kang stood at the edge of the rooftop. His coat was soaked, glasses covered in droplets, but his eyes were steady. Calm. Almost resigned.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
A mask—silver and black—glinted through the rain. A faint carved smile rested on it, the kind that made people disappear from the city without a sound.
Noxsyaa.
Kang didn't turn.
> "You still wear that mask."
The voice that answered him was smooth. Controlled. Too calm for the storm around them.
> "And you still pretend you forgot why."
Lightning tore the sky apart, revealing the truth between them—
Two brothers.
One storm.
A past that couldn't stay buried.
Kang finally turned to face him.
> "All these years and this is where we end up. On a rooftop… above everything we failed to change."
> "No," Noxsyaa replied. "This is where I rewrite it."
The wind howled. The city lights flickered.
Then—
A blade flashed.
Noxsyaa moved in a blur. His strike cut through the rain, straight for Kang's throat. Kang stepped aside at the last moment, rain scattering off the blade like sparks.
He didn't panic. Didn't even blink.
Instead, he pulled out… a pen.
Noxsyaa let out a small laugh.
> "Still writing your endings, brother?"
> "Only yours," Kang replied.
Metal clashed against the pen, sparks mixing with rain. Noxsyaa pushed forward with ruthless precision. Kang countered with calm, surgical movements—as if he'd already seen every strike before it arrived.
But even perfection slows.
Another clash—then the pen snapped. Ink burst across Noxsyaa's mask, splattering the silver surface.
Noxsyaa didn't flinch.
He stepped in and drove his blade into Kang's coat, pinning him against the railing.
Kang's breath caught. Pain trembled through him—but his eyes stayed sharp. He raised a shaking hand and pressed it to the mask, dragging a smear of ink across it.
A mark.
A memory.
Kang's voice came out weak but steady.
> "You're still the boy I taught to read."
Noxsyaa leaned in close.
> "And you're still the man who wrote my chains."
Kang didn't hesitate.
With a sudden shift, he twisted his body off the railing, grabbing Noxsyaa's wrist as he fell. Both brothers tumbled off the rooftop and crashed through the canopy of the lower building.
The world exploded in rain and steel.
When the debris settled, only one figure rose.
Noxsyaa stood over Kang's fallen body. Rain washed the ink from his mask, leaving the smear shaped almost like a tear.
He stared at his brother for a long, cold moment.
> "Don't make me finish this," he whispered.
> "Not yet."
He turned and disappeared into the storm.
The rainwater pooled around Kang, ink swirling into a symbol—a circle split by four sharp cuts—before the storm washed it away.
The city below slept peacefully.
Unaware that its first shadow had just fallen.
---
END OF CHAPTER 1