[Lower Districts of the Empire's Capital]
Beneath the imposing spires of the Empire's capital, nestled in the dilapidated lower districts, stood a decrepit wooden chapel.
Its timbers sagged with age, bowing beneath the weight of time and neglect. Moss and lichen crept over the cracked shingles, claiming the forgotten building inch by inch.
Inside the chapel was a decaying husk. The air was thick with the scent of rot and stale blood seeping from the bodies of fallen soldiers strewn across the floor. Dust drifted lazily through the fractured light that streamed through broken, stained-glass windows.
Splintered pews lined the walls, their surfaces worn smooth by time and violence. The altar at the front, scarred and faded, stood as a solemn remnant of forgotten prayers.
Bane sat upon the altar, boots resting in a pool of fresh blood from the soldiers he had killed moments before.
His breath, measured and steady, fogged the air as he inhaled deeply from his herbal cigarette. The faint orange glow of the embers flickered against his tattered clothes.
The chapel had fallen silent, but it was the silence before the storm. He knew it too well. The marksmen outside posed a lingering threat, but they were no longer a concern. He had memorized their positions. What troubled him were the real hunters yet to arrive.
He glanced down at his torn and blood-stained garments. "Just a few more minutes until Sheele secures our escape," he muttered under his breath, the words nearly swallowed by the stillness. "I need to leave before they send in the big ones."
A deliberate groan reverberated through the chapel, unmistakably intentional and not the result of aging wood. Bane's gaze intensified as he surveyed the dark corners.
Creak.
From behind a shattered pew, a figure stirred. The commander of the unit, bloodied and broken, dragged himself forward. His once-pristine armor was caked in dirt and soaked with blood, his breath labored. Clutching his side, he glared up at Bane with venomous hatred.
"You… monstrous bastard…" the commander rasped, his voice weak but burning with spite. "How… are you still alive? After everything... all our sacrifices?"
Bane glanced at the man, the life slowly draining from his eyes. Without a word, he turned his attention away, uninterested.
"Don't ignore me!" The commander's voice cracked with anger, though his body was failing him. "You think… this is over?"
Bane exhaled a slow, steady stream of smoke, watching the blood flow from the commander's wounds. "Oh, I don't think so," he said softly. "I know it's over."
Ignoring Bane's words, the commander spat through clenched teeth. "You can't outrun the Empire. You and your wretched Night Raid will be hunted down, slaughtered like animals. Even your souls—your blood—will be cursed for eternity."
Bane let out a low, amused chuckle, his gaze still distant. "How terrifying," he mused, feigning a shudder as he took another drag of his cigarette.
The commander's face contorted with rage. "Laugh all you want, traitor. Your days are numbered. They'll find your family too. The Empire doesn't forget. They'll make you watch as they hang them from the gallows."
At the mention of his family, Bane paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied the commander. Slowly, he stood, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His boots echoed as he approached the dying man, each step deliberate.
"You don't need to worry about my family." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "They're already gone. Damned, just like me."
The commander's eyes widened, surprise flickering in his bloodshot gaze before narrowing once more into a sneer. "Good," he spat, blood bubbling at his lips. "Then you'll die with nothing. Just like them."
A bitter laugh escaped Bane's lips as he crouched beside the commander, their faces inches apart. "Empty? Perhaps. But I won't die with regrets." His voice dropped to a chilling calm. "But you, Commander… don't you have a family? A wife, a son, a daughter?"
The commander froze, his sneer faltering. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Bane, fear now mingling with the rage.
"Oh," Bane's voice became a venomous whisper, "hit a nerve, didn't I? What do you think will happen to them when you're gone? Your son, working in the mines? Your daughter, sold to the Empire's brothels? And your wife…" He let the words linger in the air, dripping with cruelty.
The commander's face twisted in horror, veins bulging as panic set in. "No… No! Lies! The Empire protects its own. My comrades will—"
"Protect you?" Bane interrupted, his tone calm, almost bored. "The same way you protected those you slaughtered? How many innocent lives have you destroyed in the name of your precious empire?"
The commander's voice died in his throat.
Bane tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "You don't even remember, do you? The men you killed. The women you raped. The children you sold into slavery. All because you were strong, and they were weak."
"...."
In a prolonged silence, tears mixed with blood as the commander's body trembled. "I… I was wrong. Please… spare them. Spare my family. I'll give you everything—gold, treasures—just save them…"
Bane stared down at the man, his cigarette burning down to its final embers. With a slow shake of his head, he whispered, "No. You're weak now. And in this world, the strong devour the weak."
The commander's eyes, once filled with defiance, now brimmed with terror and desperation.
Bane stood, turning his back on the broken man. "I won't kill you, though." His voice was distant, almost hollow. "If you can save yourself, if you can still fight… then do it. Crawl to the door and live."
"Argh!!" The commander's agonized scream echoed through the decrepit chapel as he dragged his broken body toward the door, leaving a streak of blood in his wake.
Each movement sent sharp jolts of pain through him, but desperation fueled his resolve.
He didn't trust the masked figure. The offer of mercy, the chance to crawl to safety—it reeked of deception.
Yet, he had no choice. For the sake of his family, for the faint hope that he might somehow survive, he had to try. The thought of his wife, his children, filled his mind, a fragile lifeline keeping him tethered to the world.
His fingers scraped across the cold stone floor, trembling as his strength ebbed away with each pull. His breathing was shallow now, ragged, every inhale a battle he was losing. The door, his only hope, felt miles away.
"Just a little farther... I have to live for them..."
But before he could reach it, the blood loss became too much. His vision blurred, the world narrowing into a tunnel of darkness. His body gave out, collapsing in a heap on the unforgiving stone.
The commander's last thought, a whisper in the void, was for his family. His face twisted in agony and despair, and with one final, rattling breath, the commander died, his body limp and still.
The chapel returned to silence.
"Hmm, dead already?" Bane watched him from afar, his gaze emotionless.
"Merciful, wasn't I?" he muttered, casting a glance at the crumbling statue of the goddess. "Right, goddess?"
As expected, the statue offered no response.
He turned to leave, but as he neared the doorway, his heart skipped a beat.
In the dim light, a figure stood—a woman. Her face was a familiar one, an echo from his past. She had long black hair, flowing and dark, just like he remembered.
"…Liya?" His voice trembled, the name of his mother slipping from his lips.
But doubt clouded his mind. "No… you're not her," he murmured, shaking his head. He recalled the girl, Sayo, whom he had saved not long ago. The resemblance was uncanny. "Sayo? Is that you? Why are you here?"
The woman said nothing, only moved toward him, her footsteps eerily soft.
Before he could react, she wrapped her arms around him. Her embrace was tender yet stifling, her voice a hoarse whisper. "No… It's me, your mother, Leo."
Bane froze, his heart pounding. His mind screamed for clarity, but his body was paralyzed. "Mom—?"
Suddenly, a sharp, cold pain pierced his neck.
A blade had already sliced through his defences, sinking deep into his flesh. Blood poured from his mouth as he gasped, wide-eyed, his gaze shifting to his attacker.
It was his mother.
Her face, once warm and kind, was now twisted with a manic grin. His blood splattered across her features, staining her once graceful visage. A dark chuckle escaped her lips, filled with madness.
"How delightful~" she whispered, her voice sick with amusement.
Bane's vision dimmed, the world blurring as the warmth drained from his body. His strength slowly ebbed away.