In a ruined city, where all the buildings had collapsed and were smothered in vines, a man was walking alone.
The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and rotting wood, like the earth itself was trying to reclaim what once stood proud. A faint metallic tang of rust and dried blood lingered in the breeze, creeping into his nostrils like a memory that refused to fade.
He wore a black robe that covered almost his entire body, his silhouette like a dancing shadow swallowed by the night. The fabric fluttered softly with each step, brushing against his legs like whispering ghosts.
His footsteps were slow but firm, each one echoing through the hollow silence, bouncing off shattered walls and broken glass. The sound carried in all directions, unbothered, as if he didn't fear anyone who might be listening.. Or perhaps… something.
The ground beneath him felt uneven, crumbling in places, but his stride never faltered. A low, cold wind slithered between the buildings, brushing against his skin beneath the robe like icy fingers.
His face was smeared with dirt, skin torn with scratches, yet his black eyes remained sharp—glinting like obsidian under moonlight. Alert. Watchful.
"I've finally found you."
A soft whisper cut through the silence—a little girl's voice, yet there was something off about it. The tone was too calm, too deliberate, unlike any ordinary child.
The man halted in his tracks and turned toward the sound. Atop a tall building buried beneath rubble, a small, white-haired girl stood poised with a long sword in her hand—a weapon far too large and imposing for her petite frame. The night wind blew through her silky hair, making it dance in the moonlight. Even with part of her face hidden by shadow, she looked hauntingly beautiful.
Slowly, the girl began to draw her sword and pointed it toward the man.
"Alex,"
she whispered softly.
The man removed his black robe, revealing the sword he had hidden beneath it—a plain, battle-worn blade, riddled with cracks and scars. It stood in stark contrast to the girl's elegant weapon, which looked more suited to sacred rituals than close combat.
SWOOOOSH!
Without warning, the man swung his sword with great force. From a distance, the slash tore through the air, aimed directly at the girl. Strangely, the girl didn't panic. Instead, she dodged to the side with a graceful little hop, almost playfully, as if dancing away from danger.
RUMBLE!!! CRASH!!
The building beneath her shattered into countless pieces, as if it had been sliced apart like paper. Debris rained down and merged into the surrounding ruins.
The girl lunged forward in midair, sword flashing.
Brilliant arcs of light illuminated the darkness as their swords clashed again and again in a brutal dance. It was as if they harbored a deep, ancient hatred. Their blows were fierce, relentless, and destructive.
Every place they passed was destroyed as if they had been hit by a disaster.
Everywhere they moved, devastation followed. Ruins split apart, buildings crumbled—nothing was spared from their fury.
Buildings and ruins were split into hundreds of pieces or shattered as if hit by a sledgehammer.
The girl slashed from all directions without mercy, and the man could only parry with all the abilities he had, only able to strike back occasionally at certain moments, while receiving attacks that he judged were not too dangerous with his sturdy body.
But then, the girl's sharp eyes narrowed, locking onto the man's blade. Amid the web of cracks across its surface, she spotted a weak point. She began focusing her strikes with deadly precision.
The man gritted his teeth. Knowing he couldn't keep up, he launched a counterattack, even if it meant taking heavier blows.
And then—everything stopped.
The storm of strikes ceased, abruptly, jarringly. The man's instincts were screaming.
He widened his eyes as he realized what the girl was doing.
Raising her sword high with one hand, the blade began to glow—bathed in a sinister, blood-red light. The deadly aura radiating from it pierced the night like a scream, a stark contrast to its elegant design. The man didn't hesitate; he leapt back instantly.
As her body rotated with balletic grace, she swung her sword downward. A whip-like flash of crimson light shot forth, blazing through the air like a living serpent.
The man's expression hardened—he could feel it. The light had presence… eyes, even. Bloodlust. It darted toward him, relentless.
There was no time to dodge.
With a roar, he raised his black sword and met the light head-on with every ounce of strength he had.
CRACK! SWOOSH!
The collision birthed a thunderous explosion. Blood-red energy erupted across the battlefield, sending shockwaves into the night. The scream of metal pierced the air as a shard from the blade flew off, whistling through the darkness before vanishing.
He had blocked the attack.
But the price was steep.
His sword had shattered, broken into fragments under the pressure. Only a few inches of the blade remained attached to the hilt. As the dust settled, the full extent of his injuries became visible—his body was a canvas of open wounds. Blood dripped freely from him, and a gaping slash across his stomach exposed the raw flesh and glistening hints of his inner organs.
Unlike the man, whose body was now torn and bleeding, the girl remained unscathed. Not a single scratch marked her pale skin.
Without mercy, she resumed her storm-like assault—but this time, there was no resistance. The man's broken sword was useless, barely able to deflect her strikes. Each of her slashes drew blood, painting the ruins in vivid streaks of crimson, like an artist dragging a red brush across a broken canvas.
Yet even as she attacked with unwavering ferocity, a subtle weariness crept into her expression. Her icy face, once devoid of emotion, now revealed the slightest trace of fatigue. The earlier devastating technique had clearly strained her small body. But still, she pressed forward—fierce, relentless… unstoppable.
Watching the man's body covered in wounds, torn open in places, gave the girl an odd sense of satisfaction.
The man grit his teeth. He could taste the bitter tang of copper pooling in his mouth.
After dozens of bloody exchanges, he finally spotted a sliver of opportunity between her strikes. Quietly, stealthily, he stepped in—timing his move with absolute precision. At the perfect moment, he cast everything aside and swung the broken blade at her neck, aiming with blinding speed.
But then—
Just as the shattered edge of his sword nearly touched her skin… he froze.
A flicker.
His vision twisted.
Her face changed.
It wasn't her standing there anymore.
It was her.
That same little girl—dirt-covered, innocent, smiling at him beneath the blazing sun.
The one who reached out to him when he was drowning.
The one whose voice calmed the storm within him.
And now… that same gaze.
That same sadness.
That same breath.
His arm stopped in mid-air.
He blinked.
The illusion shattered.
But something inside him didn't.
Pain lanced through his shoulder—sharp and cold. Instinctively, he kicked her away and leapt back to create distance.
Looking down, he saw blood pouring from his torn shoulder. Another fresh wound, layered over the ruin that was already his body.
The girl tilted her head slightly, confused.
"Why did you hesitate? You could've decapitated me easily just now."
She spoke as if it were nothing—like discussing the weather. It was clear that dying here meant nothing to her.
The man stood still for a moment, then broke into laughter. Mad, unhinged laughter. He clutched his head with one bloodied hand as laughter poured from his throat—sharp, broken, almost inhuman. His entire body was still bleeding, yet the smile on his face didn't fade.
Blood ran down his chin, mixing with the sound of that laughter.
Eventually, his laugh quieted, and he looked at the girl with cold, unreadable eyes.
"Just me being stupid for a moment. But fine."
He smiled wider, baring his bloodstained teeth—white fangs dripping red, like a predator finally locking onto its prey.
"Allow me to show you how I survive in this damned, hellish world."
The girl said nothing, only watched him. Her eyes scanned his body—broken, battered, covered in wounds beyond counting. But that smile—cracked, wide, and stained with blood—sent a chill down her spine, something she hadn't felt in a long time.
"How?"
Her voice was simple, emotionless, almost mocking. But he knew—it wasn't meant to mock.
He gripped his broken sword tighter. His heart pounded—not with fear, not with regret, but with rage. Pure, unfiltered, primal rage. It boiled inside him, demanding release.
"I promised to save you…"
He lunged forward with inhuman speed, his body a blur of motion.
"LET ME BREAK THAT PROMISE—RIGHT NOW!!"
Seeing him charge with that wild, blood-dripping grin, he no longer looked like a man. He looked like a demon born from nightmares. She responded instantly—rushing toward him at equal speed. But unlike him, her steps left no cracks, no signs of weight. She moved like the wind—silent and deadly.
No words.
No mercy.
Only violence.
She thrust her sword forward.
JLEEEBB!!
The clash exploded like a battering ram. The impact sent debris flying, and a thick burst of blood splattered across the ruined ground.
His momentum shattered. He was flung back, dragged like a ragdoll across stone and ash, coughing up blood and dust. Finally, they came to a stop—right at the very spot where their battle had begun.
Fresh blood flowed between his fingers, dark petals dancing in the wind—silent, yet strangely beautiful.
He had used his own palm to stop her sword.
The tip of the blade now hovered just an inch from his chest. Blood dripped from its edge, the entire sword painted red. If he hadn't sacrificed his hand, his heart would've been split in two.
His broken sword was gone—lost in the dark after that single, desperate clash.
Little by little, the corners of the girl's lips lifted.
A faint, almost triumphant smile.
However, the man didn't remain still.
Gripping the hilt of the sword still impaled through his palm, he twisted his broken body in an unnatural motion—bones crackling, flesh groaning. Without hesitation, he pulled his other arm back and hurled a fist toward the girl's face with brutal, unrelenting force.
The girl's eyes widened. She instinctively tried to pull her sword free—but it wouldn't budge.
Her gaze dropped in shock. The man's hands had turned jagged, claw-like—reddish-black with sharpened nails—gripping the blade's hilt tightly, uncaring of the damage. She couldn't retrieve her weapon.
In a flash decision, she released her grip on the sword.
But she was too late.
THUD.
The man's fist crashed into her face with the weight of a falling star. A dull, thunderous impact echoed through the ruins.
The girl's head snapped back. Her expression froze in stunned disbelief as her small frame was launched backward. She smashed through a half-standing building—stone and glass splintering around her—before rolling to a stop amidst a swirling cloud of dust and debris.
Her jaw trembled. She tasted it: iron, salt… and his rage.
Behind her, the broken building groaned, then collapsed with a sighing roar—like it had finally given up on surviving in this devastated world.
The girl coughed blood and dust as she slowly pushed herself up, her vision swimming from the impact. A blinding headache pulsed in her skull.
But before she could fully recover, he appeared in front of her.
Like a ghost.
The man—Alex—stood over her, gripping the sword he had wrenched from her grasp. He drove it forward, straight toward her heart.
As if replaying an old memory, the girl raised her hand to shield herself—using her own body as a last resort.
SHLICK—!
She stopped the blow… but only barely.
The sword pierced through her palm, stopping just short of her chest. Blood spilled between her fingers.
But she didn't move. She didn't resist.
She only stared downward… confused.
A strange, stinging pain bloomed in her chest—where her heart was.
She glanced down.
A second blade.
A different blade.
Metal jutted from her chest—blood pouring down in sheets, soaking her white garment in crimson. Her breath hitched—just once.
"how?"
No scream. No sound. Just the subtle narrowing of her eyes, not from pain, but confusion.
Her face was still as cold and expressionless as before. But in her eyes… it was clear.
She hadn't expected this.
The sword had pierced her from behind.
Somehow, Alex had vanished from in front of her, moved behind her in an instant, and driven a broken blade—recovered from the ruins—straight through her back, until it exited from her chest.
All of her defenses... shattered. Her last stand, in vain.
The light in her eyes began to fade.
Slowly.
Then completely.
Her body began to fall…
But he caught her.
He cradled her as she collapsed, holding her limp frame close before gently lowering her to the cold, broken earth.
Blood pooled beneath her, circling them like a ritual sigil.
Like a red flower blooming in a wasteland of death.
Alex looked down at her face—blankly at first. Then, slowly, he reached out and wiped the blood from the corner of her lips with his thumb.
A strange gesture.
Unnatural.
Tender.
For someone he had just killed.
His face twisted in sorrow.
He stared at her, trembling… broken.
His eyes twitched—flinched.
Small red flames, glowing like embers, began to flicker across the torn flesh of his body. They spread across his wounds like crawling fire—yet cold.
And yet…
Instead of searing him, the flames healed.
Flesh stitched itself together. Bone aligned. Skin closed.
In the silence of the night, as shadows fell heavier around them, he whispered:
"Until we meet again… A—"
But before he could finish her name—
---
"HEY ALEX! DON'T YOU DARE SLEEP THERE! WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOREVER!!"
His body jolted.
Alex blinked awake as someone shook him violently.
"Huh? Uh… oh??"
His heart raced.
The battlefield, the blood… gone.
What just happened?
Wasn't I just fighting…?
Wait. Fighting… who?
Confusion washed over him like a wave. His mind scrambled to piece together the fragments of a dream—or was it a memory?
"LET'S START THE GAME! WE CAN'T WAIT ANYMORE! WHY ARE YOU FREAKING SLEEPING, DAMN BOOK-NERD?!"
The voice snapped him back fully.
Reality crashed in.
He was here.
Not there.
Who had he just fought? Why did his heart ache?
He didn't know.
All he knew… there was something that still lingered in the corners of his soul.