The trees stood still—too still.
No rustle. No breeze. No birdsong.
Just silence. That wrong kind of silence… the kind that screams.
Squad Umbra advanced through the broken trail that led to Hollowmere, a ghost-village south of Sector 9, long thought to be abandoned since the early Bist raids.
But now…
It was calling again.
Ayaka tightened her grip on her weapon, eyes alert. Behind her, Rael and Maro scanned both sides. Even Kaizen, despite his usual calm, looked visibly tense.
"This place feels cursed," Maro whispered.
"No," Rael muttered. "It feels… awake."
As they stepped into the village, the fog thickened. The wooden houses were half-collapsed, vines choking the rooftops, doors left wide open as if the villagers had vanished mid-step.
Kaizen's boots crunched on glass.
He looked down.
A mirror.
Shattered.
But even in the broken shards, he saw something… moving. Not his reflection. Not anyone's.
It was a shadow. Human-like. Grinning.
He blinked. Gone.
Ayaka reached a central courtyard—a circular space surrounded by old shrines. She raised her hand.
"Stop."
Everyone halted.
Then they heard it.
A voice.
Faint.
Hoarse.
From one of the ruined homes.
Kaizen moved first, blade drawn.
He kicked open the door.
And inside… sat an old woman, skin cracked like ash, mouth hanging open, eyes fully white.
She was chanting.
> "Kaizen… Kaizen… Kaizen…"
Kaizen's blood froze.
Ayaka stepped beside him. "Did she just—?"
The woman didn't react. She kept repeating the name.
Kaizen knelt in front of her, voice low. "Who told you that name?"
She didn't blink.
> "Kaizen… child of ruin… Kaizen… bringer of fire… flame eater…"
The squad stepped back.
Then, slowly… from the houses around them, more voices rose.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
The same chant.
"Kaizen… Kaizen… Kaizen…"
Rael whispered, "They're all chanting his name…"
Kaizen backed away, his hand shaking.
"This isn't real. They don't even know me."
Ayaka gritted her teeth. "We need to get out of here—now."
But just as she turned, the sky darkened.
A massive black sun began forming above the village, swirling with crimson mist. The air grew heavier. Hotter. Burning.
Suddenly—screams.
The villagers, still chanting, began tearing their own faces, clawing at their eyes, blood pouring as they laughed and screamed Kaizen's name.
One man staggered toward the squad, arms wide.
> "The Flame has returned! We saw you burn the world, Kaizen!"
Kaizen's vision blurred.
Flash.
He saw the earth cracking under his feet.
Cities burning.
People screaming.
His hands covered in blood.
Flash.
He stood over mountains of corpses, black flame pouring from his eyes.
He screamed.
"No! That's not me! I'm not—"
Ayaka grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.
"Kaizen, listen to me! That's not real! You're here. You're with us!"
But Kaizen's veins began to glow faint orange.
His breath came faster.
He looked at his hands—flames licking from his palms.
"I can't… stop it…"
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the village—loud, distorted, otherworldly.
> "He was never meant to be your savior.
He is your sentence."
The villagers collapsed, all at once. Blood pooled. Silence returned.
The black sun vanished.
Squad Umbra stood frozen.
Kaizen dropped to his knees, eyes wide, chest heaving.
Ayaka held him.
No one spoke for a long time.
Then Maro whispered, "What the hell just happened?"
Ayaka stood up, her voice shaking. "Someone… or something… planted that memory. That vision. They're trying to make him believe he's a monster."
Kaizen stood slowly.
But he didn't speak.
He looked down at the bodies. Dozens of them. All of them smiling as they died.
Smiling at him.
He clenched his fists.
"They're not wrong," he muttered.
Rael turned. "Don't say that."
"I saw it," Kaizen said quietly. "In their eyes. The vision. Me… standing alone in a burning world. Laughing. Covered in blood."
Ayaka stepped forward. "That's not your fate, Kaizen."
He looked at her.
"And what if it is?"
She held his stare. "Then I'll change it."
They turned back toward the road.
Unbeknownst to them, hidden in the woods above, Nerovar stood watching, the wind fluttering his ragged cloak.
He turned to a robed figure beside him—face hidden, body cloaked in writhing threads.
Nerovar whispered, "He's beginning to remember. But not enough."
The robed figure replied, voice like rust on metal.
> "Then we'll help him. Bit by bit. Until he becomes the god… they fear."