Hitachi sat frozen, his breath shallow, his heartbeat pounding like drums in his ears. His eyes scanned the walls, the blood, the twisted corpses. He wanted to scream, to cry, to wake up—but this was no dream. This was real. Too real.
Beside him, Jessica stirred. Her face was pale, lips trembling. She looked at him like he was both a boy… and a bomb.
"You… you were glowing," she whispered.
Hitachi didn't respond. He didn't know what to say. What could he say?
"I didn't mean to…" His voice was barely audible. "It wasn't me."
Jessica sat up slowly, every movement stiff. Her eyes darted from the corpses to the boy, then to her trembling hands.
"I saw you," she said. "But it wasn't you."
They both looked around the room. The temple was soaked in red. Bodies of trained killers lay mangled like ragdolls. Guns melted. Stone walls cracked. The smell of death clung to the air like smoke.
"We have to leave," Jessica said, standing. "Before someone else comes."
Hitachi tried to get up but staggered, catching himself on a broken pillar. His legs shook. His entire body felt like it had been drained of light, like something had hollowed him out and left him barely alive.
"I… I don't feel right," he murmured, clutching his stomach.
And then the voices returned.
But different this time.
They weren't whispers. They weren't the usual demons growling in the back of his head.
These were clear. Loud. Echoing like they came from somewhere outside and inside him at once.
> "The vessel is not ready."
"The mark has not awakened."
"You brought fire, now bear the weight of its shadow."
Hitachi clutched his head, stumbling back.
"No, no, not again—stop—" he gasped.
Jessica rushed forward. "Hitachi?! What is it?"
His eyes turned red for a split second—just a flash, then back to normal.
He stared at her. "They're… talking. Not the demons. Something else."
Jessica backed away slightly, fear returning to her eyes.
But she didn't run.
Instead, she stepped closer again, gently grabbing his arm. "Then let's get you out of here. Somewhere safe."
They moved through the ruins, carefully stepping over corpses and shattered bones. The air outside felt thick—wrong. Like time itself had slowed. The trees no longer looked natural. Their leaves were red, bleeding like veins. The sky overhead wasn't blue—it was gray, pulsing, alive.
Hitachi stopped at the temple's edge, staring at the forest beyond.
It didn't look like the same place they came in from.
The wind whispered his name.
> "Hitachi…"
His knees buckled.
Flashes hit his mind—visions, bright and sharp like glass cutting through thought.
Jessica screaming.
A sword through her chest.
Hitachi on fire.
A world of shadows swallowing cities.
The sky bleeding red.
A black throne.
And a voice—his own, laughing.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.
"I saw… her dying," he choked. "I saw a war. So much blood…"
Jessica knelt beside him. "What did you see?"
He couldn't answer.
Because something else was watching them now.
From the trees beyond the temple wall, a figure stood—still, wrapped in a cloak of smoke and magic. No face. Just eyes. Glowing white. Unblinking.
Jessica saw it too. She grabbed her sidearm and aimed.
"Who are you?!"
The figure didn't speak. It simply raised a hand, and every shadow nearby twisted and pointed toward Hitachi like spears.
Hitachi's mark—the one on his chest—ignited.
A burning symbol began carving itself into his skin, glowing red-hot, like it was branded from the inside.
He screamed.
Jessica ran to him. "Hitachi!"
His eyes rolled back. His body arched. The voices screamed in unison.
> "He is chosen."
"He is the key."
"He is the gate!"
The world spun.
Jessica fired her gun—but the bullets never reached the figure. They turned to ash mid-air.
Then the figure vanished.
Hitachi collapsed.
And this time… he didn't wake up.
—
Hours passed.
Night fell like a blanket soaked in ink. The stars refused to shine. The moon above was cracked, pale like bone.
Jessica dragged Hitachi's unconscious body deeper into the forest, using a makeshift sled of cloth and wood. She was exhausted. Her arms ached. Her heart raced. But she wouldn't leave him.
She couldn't.
She didn't understand why. Maybe guilt. Maybe curiosity. Maybe something deeper she didn't want to name.
Eventually, she found an old shack tucked between roots and rocks—half-collapsed, moss-covered, but hidden. She pulled Hitachi inside, laid him on old blankets, and collapsed beside him.
She stared at his face. The boy who had killed twelve trained agents. The boy with fire in his blood.
He looked peaceful now.
Just a boy again.
Jessica didn't sleep. She couldn't.
Instead, she watched the boy's chest rise and fall and wondered if she'd made the right choice.
In the distance, the forest whispered his name again.
> "Hitachi…"
And something ancient listened.
—
But somewhere far away, deep in the shadows beyond time, a door creaked open.
Inside, ancient beings stirred. Forgotten monsters. Creatures that fed on fear and fire.
And in the center of the void, a throne of bones pulsed with dark energy.
A figure sat upon it.
Not the Shadow King.
Not yet.
But something older. Watching. Waiting.
And it whispered one word:
> "Soon."