The wind was still. Too still.
Prime stood atop the ruined training grounds, the weight of tomorrow heavy on his shoulders, though he wore it with ease. The city stretched beyond the shattered walls, its distant lights a reminder of what he fought for, what he had always fought for.
And yet, tonight, something was different.
His sight—his true sight—fractured for the briefest of moments. A single sliver of the infinite unraveling before him.
He had seen many futures. Too many. But this one—this was something else.
Blood. A throne of broken steel. The echoes of a name that did not belong to the past nor the present but to something beyond time itself.
A key turning in a lock. A name carved into the bones of the world. A city falling. A city rising.
Kach.
The vision shattered, leaving behind only the taste of rust on his tongue.
Prime exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing at his sides. It was rare—so rare—that he saw something beyond the ordinary flow of fate. But he had no time to reflect. The stillness in the air wasn't just a warning.
It was a presence.
He turned just as the first strike came.
Silent. Precise.
Prime moved on instinct, tilting just enough for the blade to graze past his ribs instead of splitting him in two. The ground splintered where the force of the missed attack landed, stone erupting into dust.
The figure before him was cloaked in shadows, standing amidst the ruin with an air of absolute stillness.
Not an assassin. Not a soldier. Something worse.
A brother.
Reinheart.
Prime grinned, rolling his shoulders as he straightened. "Took you long enough."
No response. Not even a shift in posture. Just the gleam of his blade catching the moonlight.
Prime's smirk didn't falter. "What? No grand speech? No—"
Reinheart moved.
This time, Prime barely dodged in time. The blade carved through empty air where his throat had been a heartbeat ago, the sheer pressure of the attack sending a shockwave through the ruined training ground.
No wasted movement. No hesitation.
Reinheart wasn't here to talk.
Prime's stance lowered, one foot sliding back as he adjusted. His fingers twitched, calculations spinning behind his eyes. He had fought monsters before. He had fought legends. But this—this was something else.
He saw the end already.
The inevitability of it.
But still.
Prime laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the empty night.
"Damn," he muttered, cracking his neck. "You really are serious about this."
Reinheart advanced.
The fight was a storm.
Prime was faster, sharper. His visions guided him, weaving between the deadly slashes that should have cut him down. His fists connected—once, twice—but Reinheart did not falter.
It wasn't power. It wasn't strength. It was something else.
A pull.
A force beyond the mortal.
And then Prime understood.
Reinheart was not just himself.
He was something more.
Something claimed.
A breath. A misstep. A moment of hesitation.
And it was over.
The blade stopped just shy of Prime's throat.
Checkmate.
Prime exhaled, blood trailing from the wounds that had finally caught up to him. He looked at Reinheart, not with fear, not with regret, but with something almost akin to understanding.
"So that's how it is, huh?"
No answer.
Prime smirked, shaking his head. "Kach is going to ruin everything, you know."
Still, nothing.
The wind whispered through the ruins.
And Prime closed his eyes.