Night had a strange way of stretching in Tōriku City.
Time bent in the shadows. Minutes felt like hours. Moments, like lifetimes.
Inside the underground safehouse, the air was thick with silence. Not fear. Not tension. Something deeper.
Anticipation.
ASH stood at the center of the room, his scarred fingers tracing the edge of an old photo — a black-and-white image of three young men in military uniforms. One of them, smiling faintly, was Hiroshi's father.
"You looked up to him?" Hiroshi asked, leaning against the wall, arms folded.
ASH didn't answer right away. He slid the photo back into a metallic case before locking it with a click.
"I was a wild dog back then," ASH said, his voice deep and quiet. "Your father gave me a leash... and a reason to bite only when necessary."
"Why'd you disappear after the massacre?" Hiroshi asked.
"Because I was supposed to die too," ASH said. "But death blinked. I didn't."
The air hung heavy.
WRAITH leaned forward. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? The SHADE program… the Syndicate."
"I knew pieces," ASH admitted. "Not the whole game board. But when your father was killed, I realized the board wasn't just rigged... it was set on fire."
SPARK scoffed. "That's poetic. Doesn't help us survive the next SHADE."
ASH turned to her, his bionic eye glowing faintly. "Poetry is just truth that bleeds."
SPARK blinked.
ASH placed a small black box on the table. A projector activated, revealing blueprints and profiles.
"This is your next opponent," ASH said. "SHADE Designation: ECHO. Specializes in auditory disruption and neural dissonance. Makes you doubt reality. Your friends. Your mission."
VEGA frowned. "So... it messes with our minds?"
"No," ASH said. "It rewrites them."
A long pause.
Then Hiroshi stepped forward. "Where is it now?"
"Sector 12. Abandoned tech lab owned by a shell company tied to the Syndicate."
WRAITH pulled up a map. "That zone's locked down. Governmental restrictions, drone patrols, and no-fly."
Hiroshi smiled. "Good. That means it's important."
---
That night, SPECTER moved like phantoms through the dark.
Four of them. No backup. No cavalry.
Just rage, precision, and silence.
Sector 12 was a graveyard of innovation. Twisted metal arms, shattered glass domes, old prototypes covered in dust and decay. A ghost town for geniuses who had played too close to the edge.
ASH led them through the perimeter, disabling motion sensors with a custom EMP pulse.
As they descended into the lab's basement, a faint humming began. Not mechanical.
Musical.
A lullaby.
SPARK froze mid-step. "You guys hear that?"
Hiroshi nodded. "Yeah. But it's not real."
"How can you tell?" she whispered.
"Because I hate lullabies," he muttered.
They moved deeper — the melody growing louder, more complex. It wasn't just music anymore.
It was voices.
WRAITH suddenly spun, gun raised. "Who said that?"
"No one," VEGA replied. "No one spoke."
"I heard him," WRAITH insisted. "My brother—he—"
"That's ECHO," ASH interrupted. "It knows who you were before you became who you are."
Suddenly, the walls shimmered.
The hallway became a childhood bedroom.
A battlefield.
A school.
A prison.
Each of them saw something different.
"Focus!" Hiroshi shouted. "Remember the mission! This isn't real!"
A shadow glided through the illusion — tall, elegant, with no face. ECHO.
Its voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"Who are you when the lights go out, Hiroshi Kurogane?"
Hiroshi didn't answer.
ECHO snapped its fingers. Reality twisted.
Now Hiroshi stood alone. No team. No light. Just... the hospital room. The day his mother died. The last words she ever said.
He hadn't remembered them in years.
But now... they returned.
"Live quiet, Hiro... not loud. Don't draw attention."
His fists clenched.
"No."
The illusion flickered.
"I draw attention to those who think they can hide behind shadows."
He thrust his chopsticks forward—blades activated—piercing the false world.
And then ECHO was there. Real. Tangible. Masked and cloaked in flowing silence.
They clashed.
Strike. Parry. Dodge. Echo didn't fight like a machine. It fought like a memory — unpredictable, emotional, layered.
WRAITH and VEGA joined in, attacking from both flanks.
SPARK disabled the illusion field using her neural scrambler. The room snapped back to rusted metal and broken glass.
ECHO howled.
Then—boom!
A smoke grenade. Too late. ECHO had fled.
Hiroshi breathed heavily, hands shaking.
ASH walked up, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"You didn't win," he said.
"I didn't lose either," Hiroshi replied.
---
Back at the hideout, the team regrouped.
"We're not fighting enemies anymore," WRAITH said. "We're fighting reflections."
"Good," Hiroshi said. "Then I'll make sure they break when they look into me."
ASH looked over the team.
"You're building more than an empire," he said. "You're building a legend."
Hiroshi nodded.
"No. I'm building a shadow so deep… the Syndicate forgets what light looks like."