[Arc 1: Birth of a Phantom]
Prologue
Memories Buried by Snow
The mountains bathed in the warm glow of afternoon sunlight, reflecting the gold and orange hues on the surface of the snow.
A solitary figure trudged through towards the edge of a cliff, draped in a white, hooded coat, and carrying a large white bag slung over their shoulder.
Up ahead, beyond the cliff and cold mist, was another mountain, where a large villa stood. Its appearance was almost like a small castle that was hanging on the edge, surrounded by dense woodland.
The figure gazed at the horizon where the sun had started to set, when a gust swept through the trees and tugged down their white hood, ruffling their raven-black hair.
"What a bother." A wisp of white smoke formed from the figure's breath in a youthful male voice, stuttering from the frigid air.
Though his eyes were hidden behind opaque ski goggles, the lower portion of his face was visibly young and had a light complexion, which was only emphasized by the low temperature. The young boy properly adjusted his white headset, then pressed into it, "Command, I'm at the location."
"Copy that, Two-Zero-One." A feminine voice on the other end responded. One with a faint Irish accent.
The boy, Two-Zero-One, went on one knee and placed his luggage to the wintry blanket he stood on, inside it was an assortment of black components, with a long barrel at the most side. It was the parts to a firearm — a rifle — and started putting each intricate piece of the weapon together.
The winter trees whispered in a hushed voice as a gentle breeze swept by them. The figure glanced to the skies opposite the Sun, where dark clouds were gathering. A blizzard was brewing.
After assembling the rifle, the boy looked towards the horizon, where the sun was setting. It glistened with a hazy powder, dyed in the orange and purple hues of the dusk.
Two-Zero-One removed his goggles to soak in the moment, exposing his mismatched eyes to the thousands of snowflakes fluttering ahead.
His right iris was the color of dark copper with a small black mole just beneath it, while his left iris was a sapphire blue that radiated with a dim glow.
The moment he took his position, the snow wasted no time piling on top of his body, and the cold air started to stab his lungs like icy needles.
He placed his goggles back on and pressed his cheek against the rifle, adjusting the scope. As it blurred into focus, the yellow glow behind the window bars forced an old memory to flash in his mind.
Disturbed, he pulled back his head and lifted his goggles, letting out an exasperated gasp. Unease filled his chest as a fresh scar clawed at the back of his mind.
"What happened? Is something the matter?" The woman asked as she heard his labored breathing.
"Yeah… conditions aren't exactly favorable." Two-Zero-One responded as he opened his hand, letting the snow fall in.
"You left most of your gear in the car."
"I'm not gonna be here for too long, right? Get to the cliff, shoot, get back down." He replied dismissively.
"It's better to be prepared."
A cold breeze swept through, "Ugh… Whose brilliant idea was it to have my first mission be on the mountain?"
"... Professor Tetsuya's."
"Of course…" The boy rolled his eyes, "Why did they choose me? There's barely even two kilometers of distance, any other agent could make this shot. This is basically routine."
There was a short pause before the voice on the other end responded, "Have you ever aimed at a real person before?"
His mouth opened for a second. The faint rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
All he had to do was watch and pull the trigger at the right moment. Physically, it was something he had done hundreds of times. Although much colder than his usual training, it was routine nonetheless. Mentally, he was taking his first step into unfamiliar territory.
He closed his mouth and tried to gulp down as silently as possible.
"All of the agencies are watching you, Agent Two-Zero-One. They will evaluate everything after the mission. They want to see what you can do. Or if you can even do it. If you were worth their investm—" There was a slight crackle between her words.
The deep, monotonous gray was creeping in from the distance.
"What happens… if I fail?" He hesitantly asked.
"If you fail, then—" The voice on the other side was suddenly cut off with a high pitched snapping.
"Ahk!" He yelled out, "Command? Command, do you copy?"
The cold air hissed as another gust of wind swept by.
A stiff numbness ran through his fingers, "If I fail... They'll stuff me back in that white box…" His voice shivered as he remembered being trapped inside the empty, white-painted walls.
Two-Zero-One tightened his grip on the rifle. With nervous eyes, he looked back inside the villa, his goggles hanging over his head.
Even though his scope would come to focus, flickers of snow blocked his view every other second. The render was unclear from such a distance, yet he saw a warm glow radiating from the brown interior.
He continued to focus and saw the cozy sight of wooden floors and cream white walls, decorated with yellow lamps. There was a slightly elevated section at the front, which appeared to have been decorated to look like a stage. Around a total of ten people sat below, chatting in what looked to be the audience section of the room. It was a small group of intimate friends and family.
Static crackled in the boy's headset, "——Hello? — you hear me? Do you hear me now?" She asked.
"Y-yeah, I can hear you now…"
"Must've been some radio interference. Keep me posted."
"Copy that." He replied.
Light dimmed inside the villa, and a young girl carrying a violin walked onto the stage. She had platinum white hair, not unlike the snow, and looked almost the same age he was, if not a little younger. Behind her followed a man in a suit, who was likely a butler.
The girl nodded at the man standing behind her. He couldn't see it through the scope, but she was smiling excitedly at the butler.
At the front-most chair sat a gentleman with white streaks in his hair from age and stress.
The boy adjusted the scope to focus on the old gentleman, "So, that's him."
As his finger brushed against the trigger, he suddenly felt something crawl up the back of his throat.
He quickly covered his mouth, gulping down a bitter bile that was trying to escape his stomach.
After swallowing the rancid taste, he scanned his surroundings. Ahead of him, less than ten feet away, was a steep drop into a chasm below where the sunlight could not reach, where a haunting pull called out to him. Beyond the cliff was the villa standing atop the other summit. To his sides were the continuous hills surrounded by dense forests. To his right was the sun setting between the mountains, and to his left was the snowstorm brewing in the distance.
Behind him was the path he had taken to get here. His footsteps, buried beneath a fresh blanket of snow, as if he never set foot there.
"Where would I even go?" He shook his head. There was nowhere to run to. The shafts of golden sunlight were like prison bars.
He continued to watch as the girl began playing the violin, while her audience watched cheerfully.
The boy pressed onto his and asked, "Located the CEO and who I assume is his daughter. Any updates on the target?"
"We — no new updates on the details. D—termine who— figure it——" Her voice was the only sound other than the howling winds, but even that was blocked out by the weather.
The winter trees danced to the tune of the weather, signaling the blizzard's first attack. A gust of wind that pulled his white cloak over his face. The more he struggled to get it off, the more it slapped him in the face.
After being repeatedly slapped by his own attire, the boy got up on his knees and let the wind blow away the cloak. The blue turtleneck underneath was all that was left to fend him from the frigid frost.
A gust of wind was enough to send shivers down his spine. The biting cold stiffened his fingers as he tried to get onto the trigger.
Beams of sunlight sank as the sun was halfway down the mountain, and the air grew colder with each passing moment.
But when he returned his gaze through the scope, he saw the heiress try to strike the butler behind her. A struggle ensued, and the butler grabbed her by the throat. Some of the audience members stood up, but they were unable to get close, as he pressed a pistol to the back of the young girl's head.
"Two-Zero-One to command, do you copy? Target has been identified, he has taken the heiress as a hostage. I repeat, the target has the heiress hostage!" He pressed into his headset, frantically called out to his handler.
"Copy— — I repeat— — —"
Static stopped him, letting several critical seconds slip away.
Tears began streaming down from the girl's eyes as she froze in the butler's grasp.
Without any instruction, Two-Zero-One let out a vicious scowl. He was afraid of being reprimanded, but the feeling of not being allowed to do anything enraged him. "Command, I have line of sight on the target. I repeat, he's in line of sight. Permission to engage!"
"—— risk shooting the heiress. Do not——————" More static crackled from the other end, until there was nothing left to make out.
With grit teeth, the black-haired boy looked through the scope, muttering, "Sorry, command, but…"
As his finger pressed the trigger, a bright flash from the sky blinded him, and the crack of the rifle was drowned out by the thunderous roar that followed.
But the bullet itself vanished to the white curtain of rushing snow.
When the sound of thunder died down, he quickly opened his eyes and looked back into the interior. He saw the violin drop to the wooden floor, and saw the girl's face.
A pit formed in his chest as he saw her eyes, the horrified expression she had. The betrayal in her eyes as a man close to her, a man who stepped on the stage with her, was about to take her life.
With his teeth clenched, the boy reloaded.
Full of rage and panic, he set his sights on the butler's head. As he was about to pull the trigger, everything in front of him suddenly turned white.
For a moment, there was nothing. No sound and nothing to see. It was as if his senses had been stripped away. Or rather, the thickness in his head made it feel dull and blocked out, as if everything was faded and hazy.
Just the numbing quiet and a dim white void — and all he could do was breathe in once.
As the cold air filled his lungs, a crack of lightning shattered the silence, leaving a high-pitched ringing in his ears which was gradually being replaced by the blaring winds brushing against his hair.
He instinctively clenched his hands, and felt that the rifle was missing.
When his vision cleared up and he found himself several feet in the air, he realized that the rushing white wave was a blast of snow that sent him skyward.
As soon as he grasped his situation, gravity's grip pulled him back to the earth. The biting chill pierced into his skin as he slammed on his back — While the icy blanket muffled his fall, the impact had forced the bile out his stomach.
He wheezed without thinking, then grimaced at the taste and started coughing. He sat up and spat out the bitter mixture clogging his throat. He felt the warmth of every trickle drag across his chin, only to turn into ice before reaching the ground.
But as he vomited, he heard the splintering sound of ice nearby. Slowly, he turned his head to see the shattered fractals just a few feet away from his head.
Another shard fell down. A bullet shot from the sky. A frozen block of hail.
He got back up. Ice ran across his veins as he shifted his gaze towards the sky. His thoughts lagged for a moment, processing the scale —the sheer magnitude of what was yet to come.
~