A dim light flickers, casting long shadows across the cold metal walls of the base's med bay. Rex sits on a medical cot, his shirt loosely draped over his shoulders, revealing the bandages around his arm. His newly healed arm still feels tender, the dull ache a reminder of Nightshade's merciless attack. As he flexes his fingers experimentally, he looks up at Amy, who stands beside him with her hands still faintly glowing from the healing spell.
"Thank you," Rex murmurs, his voice quieter than usual. There's a vulnerability in his eyes, the kind only someone who's brushed too close to death would know. He swallows, letting out a deep breath, the sound audible in the quiet room. "I don't know how you do it, Amy. It's like… like you just pulled me back from the edge."
Amy gives him a small, understanding smile, but her eyes betray worry as she glances at his bandaged arm. "Take it easy, Rex," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "Just because it's healed doesn't mean it's invincible."
The silence that follows is heavy. The faint hum of machines fills the air, underscored by the rhythmic drip of a leaky faucet somewhere in the room. It feels surreal—this calm after the storm.
Cut to Jin, alone in his room. His eyes are wide open, unblinking, a look of frustration and anger etched deeply into his face. The events of the previous battle replay in his mind like a broken record. He clenches his fists, feeling the sting of his own failure—a failure that would have cost them all their lives if Jon hadn't intervened.
Jin stands abruptly, the sound of the chair scraping against the metal floor sharp and grating. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for a glass bottle on the nearby table, pouring himself a drink. The liquid splashes noisily against the sides of the glass, breaking the silence. He downs it in one swig, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the slight burn barely registering against the turmoil inside.
Just then, a soft creak echoes through the room as the door swings open. Jon steps in, his expression calm but penetrating, as though he can read every thought coursing through Jin's mind. For a moment, they simply stare at each other, the silence thickening. Jin feels a weight settle on his chest, the guilt, the frustration, all amplified by Jon's steady gaze.
Finally, Jon speaks, his voice soft but unwavering. "Still dwelling on it, I see."
Jin clenches his jaw, his voice barely above a whisper. "We almost died out there, Jon. If you hadn't come…"
Jon steps closer, his hand resting on Jin's shoulder, a grounding, warm touch. "Surviving battles isn't just about power, Jin. It's about learning to trust—trust in yourself, trust in those around you."
Jin's gaze drops to the floor, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly as he absorbs Jon's words.
Jon's voice cuts through the silence, low and measured, yet carrying a weight that chills the room. "You almost lost it out there, Jin. You almost let it out." His eyes narrow, his expression a careful mix of concern and caution, hinting at the power they both know lies dormant within Jin—a darkness he's barely touched but has felt, clawing, desperate to be unleashed.
Jin's jaw clenches, a flicker of anger and shame flashing across his face. He swallows, feeling a tremor at the thought of that power—something raw and unrestrained, a force he's never fully understood or controlled. Jon steps closer, his voice lowering, adding a softness that only heightens the gravity of his words.
"I had to intervene," Jon continues, his eyes locked on Jin's, "even though I knew you were close to regaining control. But when you were knocked out… it was like you opened the door for it. It was waiting, Jin. It's always waiting."
Jon's words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the danger that lurks within him, something dark and alive, straining against its cage. Jin's fists clench as he fights the urge to deny it. But he knows Jon's right.
Jin nods slowly, the tension in his shoulders slowly loosening. "I understand," he mutters, the acknowledgment more for himself than anyone else. The conversation still lingers in the room like an unseen specter, one they both know they'll revisit—just not now.
Jon's face softens, and he gives Jin a brief, reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Gear up. It's time to get some food. You need it."
Scene cut to the New World.
A rumbling hum fills the air, steady and ominous, as row after row of agents assemble in the shadowy expanse of the Shadow Council's fortress grounds. It's an endless sea of dark figures, each clad in pitch-black suits, their eyes concealed behind reflective, obsidian glasses. Their posture is rigid, disciplined, as if they are one collective force rather than individuals. In perfect unison, they snap to attention as a figure emerges at the front.
Valkris steps forward, his presence suffused with authority and menace. The silence that follows his entrance is palpable, broken only by the slight rustle of fabric as the agents adjust their stance, waiting for his command. Valkris's voice booms across the vast assembly, sharp as a blade slicing through the air.
"We have a new directive," he announces, his words punctuated by an unnatural quiet that descends, as if even the wind dares not disturb his voice. "The targets: Jin and the ancient traitor, Jon."
A ripple of tension surges through the ranks, but no one dares speak. Valkris continues, his tone laced with an edge of disdain. "This 'Jon' you pursue… he is no ordinary prey. He was once one of us, a force to be reckoned with within the Shadow Council."
A collective murmur courses through the agents, the shock barely restrained beneath their stoic exteriors. Valkris lets the tension build, his face twisted in a dark, satisfied smile as he continues.
"Yes," he sneers, "Jon betrayed the Council, turned against everything we stand for. And he did so for one reason—to protect Jin." Valkris spits the name, his voice heavy with contempt. "The boy you hunt owes his life to that traitor. Jon has kept him hidden, shielded, from us for years."
The agents tighten their stances, absorbing the revelation with a newfound fervor. Their faces remain hidden behind their glasses, but the intensity radiates through the air—a collective resolve to eliminate both Jin and Jon.
Valkris raises a gloved hand, pointing outward, his gaze fierce and unyielding. "Today, we end their defiance. We end Jon's betrayal, and we bring Jin to justice." His voice reverberates through the ranks, a declaration of impending war.
"Prepare to mobilize. We move at dawn." The assembly remains silent, but the air crackles with tension, a static charge building with each word.
The agents give a final, unified salute, a silent but ominous acknowledgment of their mission, their determination evident even in silence.
As the echo of his speech fades, Valkris steps away from the assembly, his footsteps clicking sharply against the polished stone floor of the vast hall. By his side, Nightshade falls in line, his stride fluid and silent, like a shadow moving through darkness. The air is thick with the weight of their mission, the corridor lit only by faint, flickering lights that cast elongated shadows across the walls.
Valkris turns his head slightly, his voice low but sharp. "How fares Kurokage? Is it ready to track Rex's location yet?"
Nightshade's lips curve into a subtle, almost mocking smile, a glint of satisfaction in his eye. "It's almost set, Valkris," he replies, his voice barely more than a murmur. "It's not an instant process… the sword takes time to attune and connect, to trace its prey. But soon enough… we'll know exactly where he is."
They continue down the corridor, their footsteps echoing in sync, the sound intermingling with the distant hum of machinery within the fortress. The atmosphere grows tense, as if a heavy presence looms ahead. The distant shuffle of footsteps becomes audible, growing louder as a figure steps into view—a large, imposing silhouette flanked by two agents.
The figure is cloaked in shadows, a hulking mass obscured by darkness, save for his outline. A flickering light reveals brief glimpses: thick, rounded shoulders, and the glint of medals across his chest. His face is shrouded in shadow, but his breathing is heavy and labored, each inhale and exhale a rasping sound that reverberates through the corridor. His presence alone fills the space, the air heavy with an unspoken command.
As they draw closer, Nightshade bows deeply, his head lowered in reverence. Valkris follows suit, inclining his head with a look of solemn respect. "General Zorvath," he greets, his tone laced with deference.
A rumbling, guttural chuckle escapes from the figure—General Zorvath's laugh, thick and distorted, as if every breath is an effort. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low growl, dripping with disdain. "Jon is alive, I see… hiding that boy Jin all these years…" His words are punctuated by deep, labored breaths, each word dragged out as if he savors every syllable. "I expect no failure from you, Valkris."
The general's gaze settles on Valkris, a forceful, oppressive presence pressing down on him. "If you have to pull the strings, break every rule in the book… do it. Make sure Jon's last act of defiance is his final one. Bring them both to me."
Valkris straightens, his posture rigid as he meets the weight of Zorvath's expectation. "I understand, General," he replies, his voice steady, determined. "We will not fail."
With a curt nod, Zorvath turns, his bulky form disappearing back into the shadows, his labored breaths echoing down the hall as he retreats, his agents trailing behind like loyal phantoms. Valkris watches him go, feeling the weight of the mission intensify, every sound seeming to fade into silence around them.
He glances at Nightshade, a steely resolve in his eyes. "Let's prepare. We move as soon as Kurokage is ready."
SAFEHOUSE
The dining hall was filled with the warm glow of lanterns, casting a soft, inviting light over the large wooden table laden with dishes. Bowls of steaming rice, plates piled high with crispy tempura, roasted chicken, and an assortment of colorful pickled vegetables filled the table. The rich aroma of miso and soy sauce mingled with the faint scent of tea, creating an atmosphere of comfort in sharp contrast to the dark world they'd just escaped.
Jon, Jin, Rex, Amy, and Aria were seated around the table, each one quietly savoring the rare moment of peace. Rex awkwardly lifted his chopsticks, wincing slightly as he tried to use his injured arm to reach for a piece of chicken.
"It's not the easiest with just one hand,"
he muttered, offering a crooked grin as he managed to snag a piece and toss it onto his plate.
"But it's better than getting sliced up out there." He laughed lightly, but a shadow lingered in his eyes.
Amy smiled softly at him, but her concern was clear. Aria, meanwhile, looked across the table at Jon, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. She took a breath, setting down her chopsticks.
"Jon," she began, her voice steady. "I'm ready now. I want to know everything—the truth about the New World… and about you."
Jon's eyes met hers, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh his words carefully. He set his tea down with a soft clink, and silence fell over the table as everyone focused on him. His voice was steady but tinged with an old sadness.
"Very well," he said, his gaze far away, as if reaching back to memories he'd tried to bury. "Years ago, I was part of the Shadow Council. Back then, it was different—more of a governing body for the real world, meant to maintain balance and order across the World. We acted as protectors, leaders…"
He trailed off, a flicker of something dark crossing his face. "But not everyone within the Council believed in that purpose. There were those who wanted more—power beyond what any leader should wield. They sought out ancient gods, forces beyond our world."
Jin leaned in slightly, eyes narrowed as he listened intently. Jon's tone lowered, his words heavy with regret. "These gods, they promised unimaginable power. And they granted it—but at a cost. In exchange, they demanded the souls of mortals, lives sacrificed to feed their insatiable hunger."
Amy's face paled, her eyes widening slightly. Rex stopped eating, his expression tense. Jon continued, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"The only way to gather enough souls was through war, destruction… chaos on an unimaginable scale. Some within the Council saw this as the only path to power. They manipulated and deceived, igniting conflict and division across the World."
Jon paused, looking down at his hands. "I couldn't stand by and watch them destroy everything. I tried to stop them… and for that, I became their enemy."
Aria swallowed hard, absorbing the weight of his words. "So… all of this—the Shadow Council, the New World, the battles… It's all because of them?
Jon nodded slowly, a look of weariness crossing his face. "Yes. They've kept a tight hold over everything since then, hunting down those who threaten their agenda. Jin, you, Rex, Amy… all of us. We're marked because we defy them."
A silence settled over the table, each of them grappling with Jon's revelation. For the first time, Aria understood the depth of the darkness they were up against—and the gravity of the fight they would face.
Jon took a breath, meeting each of their gazes in turn before his eyes settled on Aria. "There's another reason why the Shadow Council has been after Jin for so long. They want him alive—not dead—because of the Mother Box."
Aria's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Mother Box…?"
Jon nodded, his voice lowering. "Yes. It's an artifact of ancient power, holding unimaginable abilities, and Jin's bloodline is the only one capable of wielding it."
Aria turned toward Jin, who had been silently listening, his gaze steady, as if he'd already made peace with this knowledge long ago. She looked back to Jon, the question clear in her expression.
Jon continued, "Before I left the Council, I stole the Mother Box. I knew it was too powerful to be in their hands. They were obsessed with it, seeing it as their path to ultimate control. But the Mother Box wasn't meant to be wielded by anyone with a lust for power—it has a lineage. And that lineage belongs to Jin's bloodline."
Jin's expression was calm but intense, a flicker of defiance in his eyes as he listened. He already knew what the Council's motives were and understood the gravity of his role. "They want to use me to unlock the Box's full power," he said, his voice steady, "and that's why they'll never stop chasing me."
Jon nodded solemnly. "Exactly. To them, you're not just a threat—you're the one thing standing between them and absolute control. They need you alive because only you can truly unlock its full potential. And as long as you refuse them, you're their greatest enemy."
Aria absorbed this revelation, her gaze shifting to Jin, a mixture of admiration and worry in her eyes. "So, all of this… everything we're facing… it's because of that power."
Jin gave her a determined nod. "Yes. But I won't let them have it."
Aria's expression shifted from concern to determination as well, a quiet resolve hardening in her eyes. "Then we'll keep fighting. All of us."
The silence that followed was charged, each of them steeling themselves for the trials ahead, knowing now that they were united not only by fate but by purpose.
The room fell silent as Jon's words settled over them, each of them absorbing the gravity of their mission, the stakes that loomed ahead. Slowly, Jin looked back down at his plate, picking up his chopsticks with renewed determination. The others followed his lead, the tension gradually dissipating as they returned to their meal.
Rex, with his usual grin, broke the silence.
"Well, at least we get a good meal before all hell breaks loose, huh?" He raised his glass, offering a casual toast that lightened the mood ever so slightly.
Amy smiled, nudging his good arm playfully. "If you can manage to feed yourself without injuring the other arm, that is."
Everyone shared a small laugh, the camaraderie easing the weight of Jon's revelation, at least for the moment. Aria looked around the table, realizing how quickly these people—these fighters, survivors—had become like family to her.
The rest of the meal passed quietly, with each of them savoring the rare peace as they ate, knowing it was likely their last moment of rest for a long time. Plates gradually emptied, and the last sips of tea were taken. Jin set down his glass, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face as he looked at his friends.
"Whatever comes next," he said, his voice quiet but resolute, "we face it together."
The others nodded, their faces set with determination as they pushed back their chairs and stood, ready to face whatever the Shadow Council had in store for them.