The city was a battlefield. Smoke rose from shattered buildings, flames devoured homes, and chaos ruled the streets. From afar, the destruction was vivid, a smoldering scar on the horizon. Jin stood atop a hill overlooking the ruins, his coat billowing in the wind. His sharp eyes scanned the devastation, and his mind flickered with thoughts. This was it. Nine months of relentless training had led to this moment—a real battlefield. His lips tightened, his gaze cold and unyielding. He was ready to face whatever stood in his path, to crush anything that dared oppose him.
Seiji, standing beside Jin, placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's time," he said, his tone calm but firm. "But I have something to take care of first. Go ahead, Jin. This would be your battle."
Jin gave a slight nod. His eyes never left the city as Seiji vanished into thin air, leaving only the faintest trace of his presence behind. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of smoke and ash. Without hesitation, Jin stepped forward, leaping gracefully from the hill.
He descended like a force of nature, the golden glow of the sun outlining his figure. His coat flared behind him, a dark silhouette cutting through the smoky sky. For a moment, it was as if time froze—his form elegant and powerful, a symbol of hope and vengeance all at once. His landing was perfect, soft yet commanding, his boots touching the ground with a faint thud. Civilians caught a glimpse of him from the corners of their eyes, their despair momentarily halted by the sight of this enigmatic figure.
An old man shielding his grandchildren whispered, "Who is that?" as Jin straightened himself, his sharp gaze scanning the area.
The chaos of the city came into sharper focus. Children screamed, clutching their parents as flames roared around them. Grandparents hobbled away from falling debris, their frail hands trembling as they sought refuge. The young and the old alike ran in terror as fireballs exploded across the streets, obliterating homes and businesses.
Amidst the carnage, a figure stood motionless. Tinker, one of the Black Vanguard's deadliest operatives, had stationed himself in the heart of the chaos. His mechanical contraptions hummed and whirred, small drones flitting about as they unleashed destruction. Grenades materialized in his hands with unsettling ease, each one an invention of his warped mind, designed for maximum devastation. He hurled them with glee, their fiery explosions turning the streets into a war zone.
Tinker grinned, his wild eyes darting across the wreckage he had created. "Art," he muttered to himself, his voice trembling with manic excitement. "Pure, unbridled art!"
Then, his gaze caught something new. A figure, tall and composed, walking through the destruction with a chilling calmness. Jin's boots crunched against the charred remains of what was once a marketplace. His coat swayed lightly with his movements, his presence radiating an aura of authority and icy resolve.
Tinker tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice high-pitched and mocking. "You're different from the rest. Not running, not crying… Admiring my work, are you?" He twirled a grenade in his hand, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Do you like it? My creations? They're beautiful, aren't they?"
Jin didn't respond. He locked eyes with Tinker, his cold gaze piercing through the man's twisted mind. There was no anger, no fury—just an eerie, unshakable calm. Without a word, Jin crouched slightly before leaping into the air. His movements were fluid, effortless, as he soared above Tinker, the flames below casting shadows across his face.
He landed lightly amidst a group of terrified civilians, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You're safe now," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Get to safety. Quickly."
The children stared at him in awe, their fear momentarily forgotten. The adults hesitated, glancing back at Tinker, who was now shaking visibly. "Go," Jin urged, his tone leaving no room for argument. The civilians obeyed, fleeing toward the safer parts of the city.
Tinker watched Jin with growing unease. His manic grin faltered, and his hands began to tremble. "What… What are you?" he stammered, taking a step back. He gripped his head as if trying to steady his spiraling thoughts. "Why… Why am I afraid of you?"
Jin remained silent, his gaze never wavering.
Suddenly, Tinker's mind snapped. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes wide with terror. He clutched his head tightly, digging his nails into his scalp. His thoughts raced uncontrollably, faster than he could process. Images of Jin's unyielding stare flooded his mind, suffocating him with an overwhelming sense of dread.
"No… No… NO!" Tinker screamed, his voice cracking as he stumbled backward. He clawed at his face, blood trickling from his scratches. His machines buzzed around him, aimless and uncoordinated. In a final act of madness, Tinker pulled a knife from his belt. "Get out of my head!" he shrieked before plunging the blade into his own throat.
The world seemed to pause. Blood spilled onto the ground, pooling around Tinker's lifeless body. The chaos momentarily quieted as the civilians turned to witness the aftermath. Gasps echoed through the streets, and whispers spread among the survivors.
"What just happened?" a young boy asked, his voice trembling.
An old man, his eyes fixed on Jin as he flew away, whispered in awe, "That man… He didn't even touch him. Just looked at him, and it was over."
Jin soared above the city, his coat fluttering like a shadow against the fiery backdrop. He didn't glance back, his focus already shifting to the next threat. His presence alone had quelled the chaos, leaving an indelible mark on those who witnessed it.
The city burned, but amidst the destruction, hope had arrived.