Zenithar – Industrial Sector
4 December 1077 – 10:34 PM
Zenithar did not breathe. It choked.
A city of iron and concrete, swallowed in smoke, its skyline jagged with soulless towers. Neon signs flickered like dying embers, their glow reflecting off rain-slicked streets filled with nothing but ghosts. The air reeked of rusted iron, burned-out oil, and something worse—the rot of desperation.
The city was a diseased organism, a man-made hell, sustained by the endless greed of those who ruled it. After the Ten-Year War, the world had collapsed beneath the weight of its own ruins. The monarchy of Yuron had been betrayed and annihilated, replaced by a regime of oligarchs and ruthless generals.
The military controlled the streets with an iron fist. Cities were patrolled by drones, armored units, and soldiers who responded only with violence. No one dared oppose them openly.
No one—except fools.
In the Industrial Sector, the night belonged to the desperate. There were no rules—only survival. The slums swarmed with smugglers, informants, mercenaries, and criminal gangs, all fighting for whatever resources they could seize.
As long as they stayed in the shadows, the regime turned a blind eye. Controlled chaos was useful—it kept the population divided, afraid, too busy surviving to organize a real rebellion.
But when someone dared to step beyond the boundaries imposed upon them, the illusion of tolerance shattered.
From above, Zenithar looked even more rotten.
Raiga lay on the rooftop of a building, one arm folded under his head, his gaze fixed on the sky.
His eyes slowly closed.
The noise of the city faded.
The screams, the sirens, the clang of metal… everything vanished.
And in the silence, his mind took him home.
A small village nestled in the mountains. Winding dirt roads, the crisp mountain air rolling down from snow-capped peaks. The scent of warm bread mingling with the laughter of children.
His grandfather's voice calling him from the doorstep, the warm light of sunset on the stone walls.
For an instant, it all felt real.
Then, like fractured glass, the memory shattered.
Every night he returned there, every night he sought refuge in his memories. But the shadow of that day always crept in, slithering through the fractures of his mind.
The red of the sunset became the red of blood.
The mountain wind turned into screams of despair.
The scent of warm bread vanished, replaced by the acrid stench of burning flesh.
The village of Wolven no longer existed.
Faces twisted in agony. Eyes filled with terror. Bodies convulsing, flesh ripping apart, screams that were no longer human. The warmth of blood on his hands.
His heart began to race. A shiver ran down his spine.
Then, all at once—
"Raiga… RAIGA!! What the hell are you doing!?"
The voice hit him like a lightning bolt.
He snapped his eyes open, his breathing still uneven.
Liara.
The only fragment of that past that was still real. The only thing he had left.
"Don't tell me you're sleeping…"
Raiga let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.
"I'm just… resting my eyes."
Liara crossed her arms and tilted her head, scrutinizing him with an expression somewhere between irritated and incredulous.
"I can't believe this… Raiga, can you take this seriously for once!? Sooner or later, I'm going to find you splattered on a sidewalk!"
Raiga stretched lazily, taking his time, and let out a sigh.
"Can you stop yelling? You're worse than the curfew…"
"And you're worse than a drunken old man!!" she snapped, planting her hands on her hips. "Move it! The target is close."
Liara was the only one who could keep him in line. Always.
Raiga got up with an amused smirk, dusting off the rooftop grime.
"No need to tell me. I never fail."
"Ugh… So arrogant. Next time, I'll send a kamikaze drone to wake you up."
Raiga smiled—a genuine smile, one he rarely allowed himself.
Liara sighed and shook her head, hiding a smile of her own.
Zenithar was hell.
But at least they faced it together.
Zenithar – Military Transit Zone – 00:47 AM
The mission was clear: retrieve the device and return to the hideout. But they both knew it would never be that simple.
Liara spoke again, this time with a more serious tone.
"Listen, I don't want to see another bloodbath. We grab the device and get out. Clear?"
Raiga remained silent for a few seconds. His eyes dimmed slightly.
"I'll do my best."
She sighed.
"Let's hope your 'best' doesn't mean leaving a trail of corpses."
Liara was inside the hideout, an old warehouse converted into a high-tech operations center. Her fingers moved rapidly over the controls, her eyes locked onto the screens in front of her.
"Convoy arriving in 30 seconds. Three armored vehicles, eight armed soldiers."
Raiga was in position. The target? An advanced mapping device, technology reserved for the elite of the Central States. With that device, every future mission would be a breeze.
"Raiga, grab it and get back. Don't get carried away."
Silence. Then his voice came through the earpiece.
"Copy that."
Liara swallowed. Every time she heard him speak with that coldness, a shiver ran down her spine.
Raiga moved silently through the shadows. His body was an extension of the darkness, every muscle taut, every fiber of his being ready to strike. His piercing blue eyes locked onto the convoy with the focus of a predator.
Liara watched the convoy on the monitors, her fingers poised over the controls.
"Full blackout in 3… 2… 1…"
BOOM.
An electromagnetic pulse, launched by one of Liara's drones, spread like an invisible wave down the road.
In an instant, all the lights went out.
Engines dead. Radios silent. HUDs blacked out.
An unnatural silence fell like a leaden shroud over the side street.
One of the soldiers shouted, jumping down from the vehicle with his rifle aimed into the darkness.
"What the fuck just happened?!"
"Blackout in the district," another replied, but the uncertainty in his voice was palpable.
What they didn't expect was the fury that was about to descend upon them.
The Predator Strikes the Prey
Raiga leapt.
From the top of a building, his body plummeted onto the roof of the armored vehicle with devastating impact. The metal buckled under his feet.
"HE'S ON TOP OF THE VEHICLE!!"
The weapons snapped up. Gunfire erupted. Bursts of bullets tore through the darkness—but Raiga was no longer there.
Raiga weaved through them like a phantom, a blur of motion too swift for the eye to follow.
A vicious strike to the back of the neck sent a soldier crumpling to the asphalt, the sickening crack of bone reverberating through the night.
Another soldier tried to raise his rifle, but Raiga was faster.
The blade of his sword carved a perfect arc through the air.
A clean cut. The weapon split in half. The soldier's body pierced by the razor-sharp metal.
"WHA—WHAT THE HELL…?"
The remaining soldiers staggered back, paralyzed with terror.
They had seen fighters before. But this wasn't a man.
This was a beast.
Raiga turned slowly, his eyes gleaming like those of a hungry predator.
One of them fired in sheer desperation.
A bullet grazed him—but before the soldier could pull the trigger again, Raiga moved.
A powerful front kick sent him crashing into a wall with the force of a steel battering ram. He passed out instantly.
One by one, the soldiers fell under his fury.
But in the chaos of battle, Raiga didn't notice the first armored vehicle.
Inside, a few soldiers had remained in cover. Protected, they had time to take position and aim.
"Raiga, WATCH OUT!" Liara shouted through the earpiece.
But it was too late.
A burst of bullets whizzed through the air.
One of them hit Raiga in the shoulder.
He staggered. A searing pain shot through his body, but he didn't stop. Clenching his teeth, he moved through the shadows, dodging the next shots and taking cover behind a vehicle.
In the tense silence, the soldiers' voices echoed:
"We got him. We need to make sure he's dead."
The soldiers cautiously slipped out of the vehicle, moving carefully.
Sharp eyes. Fingers on triggers.
They scanned the area, searching for their target's body.
BOOM!
A gunshot ripped through the air.
One of the soldiers dropped instantly, his skull pierced by the bullet.
The second one spun around—too late.
Raiga's blade sliced through him in a flash, sending him to his knees, his breath cut short.
The last one, trembling, tried to run.
He tripped, falling to the ground, hands raised in panic.
Raiga let him crawl back, taking his time.
"P-please… no… I don't want to die…!"
The boy stepped forward, silent as death.
Then, he placed a foot on the soldier's chest, pinning him down.
He raised his sword.
And slowly, without hesitation, he drove it into his throat.
He watched the life drain from his body.
Liara closed her eyes. Her breath grew heavy.
She had seen Raiga fight dozens of times.
But this version of him…
…this version of him terrified her.
"Was that really necessary…?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Raiga remained silent.
His hand still gripped the hilt of his sword, blood dripping from the blade.
He wiped the weapon clean on the dead soldier's uniform.
Then, he looked at his reflection in the blade.
The eyes staring back at him…
…were they really his?
"Retrieve the package. I'll see you at the hideout."
Liara cut the connection.
She ran a hand over her face, her heart heavy.
She tried to convince herself that he was still Raiga.
But him…
He didn't even flinch.
Raiga blew open the vehicle's hatch, grabbed the cargo, and secured it to the transport drones.
The machines hummed in the air, lifting into the night sky.
Without a word, Raiga turned.
And vanished into the darkness of the night.
Behind him, only blood and death.
From the shadows of a nearby alley, something stirred. Cold, calculating eyes studied the battlefield, lingering on the trail of bodies left behind.
A man approached the lifeless bodies, kneeling beside one of them.
His fingers brushed against the still-warm blood.
A slow smile curved his lips. 'Interesting…
"Interesting."
His voice was a venomous whisper.
He lifted his gaze toward the glowing city in the distance.
"At last… I've found him."