STORM RISING (Normal)
1
Azazel had just emerged from his body.
The creature was over ten feet tall. It should have torn him to pieces in the process, but Kazuya was just as bad off as before it had emerged.
He vaguely understood that Azazel had transformed his body into a kind of portal and had emerged as if passing through the surface of a lake.
It wasn't something as 'physical' as it might seem, or he would undoubtedly be dead.
But the sewer tunnel where he had taken refuge had no such advantages. It began to collapse even before the creature stood upright. The debris slid over the shoulders of the monster, naturally causing no harm; it might as well have been a shower of cherry blossoms for all the effect it had.
Screams. Above, on the street, humans were scattering like rabbits at the approach of a fox.
Among the rubble, breathing heavily, Kazuya focused his rage and burned it with his gaze. He wasn't about to back down, not even a bit, even in such a situation. Although his mind knew that perhaps the most sensible thing would be to crawl away, he would never humble himself. Not before this monster, nor before anyone. He had sworn years ago, after all, that 'that day' would be the last. That he would never bow his head again.
"Kill you?" Azazel spoke directly into his head, invading him. Kazuya clenched his teeth. "If I wanted you dead, you would be. How could I let go of such a useful piece? Don't be ridiculous."
A laugh that might sound like the final agonized screams of someone lost in the depths of a cavern, twisted by echoes once they reached the outside. A laugh halfway between a scream, a sob, and laughter.
"You're still useful to me, Kazuya."
Azazel was a demon with gray skin and blazing red eyes. A demon covered in crystals that emitted a purple light. In fact, his own skin sometimes glowed the same color... Through his cracked chest, though not a wound, it was clear that these crystals acted as his innards. It was something that defied all logic and rationality, just like the Devil Gene he had brought into this world.
The Rectifier of All Things.
The Destroyer.
But... not his end, not his final moment. Definitely.
"Do you think you can... look down on me, dog? You waited until I was... weakened by someone else. You're afraid of me. Even now, you're trembling, mangy dog."
Azazel's expression didn't change in the slightest. After all, he didn't need such a thing to make his reaction clear.
"So eager for me to kill you? Even a brash child like you should know that you can do nothing to stop it now."
And it was mockery. He mocked, Kazuya would have preferred a thousand times that he rage, even if that meant being crushed by him a second later. He had already returned from the dead once, but he could not tolerate insults to his pride. Yes, it was absolutely intolerable.
So, naturally, he completely lost his head.
"Come on, kill me. Take advantage and kill me now, before I can recover. You wouldn't... want to risk it. Coward. Come on, let's go, let's go!"
Yes. He completely lost his head. He couldn't have controlled himself even if he wanted to. His countless enemies and the pieces he possessed would never have imagined, not in a million years, that he could behave this way.
They called him the emperor of cold blood.
He was supposed to be the kind of person who crushed his enemies without feeling anything, without letting anything or anyone affect him.
And, not only that.
Kazuya began to crawl towards Azazel as if he could do something against the demon with his body broken in every conceivable way and his strength nearly exhausted.
He was crawling across the ground, but not humbling himself in the least. In reality, he was demonstrating his great willpower, which was as superhuman as his physical strength.
He moved forward with determination, despite all he now felt was pain.
He moved forward, despite the fact that even crawling across the ground required such an effort that it made him vomit blood. And for what purpose? He could neither fight Azazel nor escape. But he kept doing it, without a moment's doubt. He couldn't be more stubborn.
Azazel simply looked away, directing his gaze toward the distant horizon.
"As I said, you are still useful to me, that's all. I'm not going to kill you. And I'm not going to wait for you to lie with a human, I don't think such a thing will happen twice. Goodbye, Kazuya. I have much work to do."
His enormous wings stirred, raising a tempest. He took flight. Kazuya knew that to spread the Devil Gene. He had made it very clear.
To spread the Gene in this different world into which he had ended up without knowing how or why.
2
Kayden finally came home, holding the shopping bags. Naturally, She had arrived so late only because that wasn't the only thing she had been doing. At least she could finally rest. Her eyes were already closing.
"Theo, have you taken good care of Aster? Theo?" she whispered, not wanting to wake the baby.
She received no response.
But that was not unusual. Although sometimes Theo stayed up very late watching television, since he had trouble sleeping, at this time he could well be sleeping peacefully in his bed.
Hopefully. He deserved a good rest.
She went into the living room and turned on the lights. The TV was still on, though muted. Theo was nowhere to be found. So what? Didn't she just explain why this wasn't strange?
Yes.
Yes.
Her fear made no sense, but Kayden's heart was submerged in the dark waters of a terrible premonition, and she couldn't escape. The dark waters...
As she stepped back into the hallway, she heard just that. Water. Dripping water.
No. No. Don't think about nonsense.
It can't be.
Kayden approached the bathroom. The closer she got, the louder the dripping became... naturally... How could it not get louder? Kayden stepped in a puddle, looking down as if to check that it really was there, that she hadn't somehow imagined it.
The water... was sliding under the door... and from inside, it continued dripping incessantly...
Drip drop, drip drop...
Maybe she was dreaming. That's what she desperately thought as she reached for the doorknob, turned it, and...
The door opened creaking like the jaws of some cruel beast.
When she saw what was on the other side, Kayden screamed, she couldn't stop screaming... she screamed as if she was going mad, no, she screamed as if she wished to go mad.
3
The dark waters were not a lake, they were not a river.
They were an ocean. Therefore, this had only just begun. Someone, their name was unimportant, woke up with a start, wrapped in the sheets as if they were a shroud. Covered in sweat and breathing like a wild beast.
What kind of dream, or nightmare, had he seen?
This someone didn't remember. In any case, what had pulled him out of the world of dreams was a dark impulse. Indeed, it was something he had thought about more times than he could count.
Everyone sometimes thought of doing terrible things. Who hadn't fantasized at least once, for example, about knocking out their asshole boss's teeth? But there were no thought crimes. As long as it stayed in the imagination, it was no sin.
However, today he would definitely... cross the line without looking back. And he was talking about doing 'something' much worse than punching his boss.
Someone opened the closet. There were all kinds of things there. First of all, he took an AK-47 and inserted the magazine, then took more, all that could fit between the pockets of his pants and his jacket. He still had to look for the jacket, but that was another story.
Also...
Grenades, of course. A few grenades would come in handy.
Lastly, although he doubted it would be of much use, he hung a hunting knife from his belt. It didn't have to be particularly useful. If he were someone cold and pragmatic, he would do only what was strictly necessary and seek to end 'that' without problems. However, he intended to enjoy it, so the hunting knife was also important.
He left his room.
Without turning on the lights, he reached the living room.
He picked up the first jacket he found. His old army jacket. As usual, he had left it hanging on the sofa right in front of the television. There, it had been waiting for him..., how long now? How long had it been since he retired from the army due to injuries and returned to this land that now felt strange to him, a completely different country, a country full of aliens with their own customs and ways of thinking, where he had no place?
'Someone' couldn't remember.
He supposed it didn't matter.
That, in reality, was the least of it. Deep down in his heart, he had always wanted to die violently. That's why he had joined the army. It was just that no one had managed to kill him in those bloody years. Just because he wanted to die didn't mean he was going to let just anyone kill him.
It was a twisted way of thinking, but he had stopped being a normal person a long time ago.
Perhaps he had never been one, deep down in his heart. In the dark waters of the abyss of...
(Azazel)
In any case, even before he was born, the human had 'died,' giving birth to a demon.
And today he would die. Sooner or later he would die.
But, he wouldn't leave this world alone.
Prepared for the massacre, or at least as prepared as he could ever be, 'someone' ran out of his house. The door wasn't locked, so he opened it by pushing it with his shoulder and all the strength of his trained body.
He raised the rifle and shot the first person he saw, a woman with her back to him. He didn't even see her. Even now, as she writhed on the ground, choking on her own blood with her hands on the gunshot wound, as if she could do something, she must have been trying to understand what the hell had happened.
There were screams, of course. But, now that he thought about it, hadn't the screams started before he pulled the trigger? Ah, whatever, whatever. In the end that wasn't important.
His first victim had been boring. He should have waited for her to turn around. He couldn't make the hands of the clock move backwards, but he could rectify his mistake.
He had never thought the hunting knife would be useful so soon.
Someone grabbed the woman by the hair and pulled it back, exposing her neck. And then he slit her throat, but only after she processed it, understood what was happening. Who was responsible for her end. He slit her throat as if she were a pig and damn, he enjoyed it like a child.
Someone stood up, with a wide smile. The blood of another person covering his body seemed unreal under the streetlight.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark shape.
He turned around, his heart in his fist. Suddenly, just like that, his pleasure had turned into tension... No wonder. It was a guy in a costume, and he hadn't been living in a cave for the last few decades. He knew very well what that meant.
The insect eyes and those jaws made him look like a monster from one of his worst nightmares, a humanoid insect or a half-insect human, in any case, repulsive and terrifying. To make matters worse, he must have had some power. He didn't think it was just a stupid costume, although he didn't recognize a hero or villain in that suit.
He acted quickly.
His best chance against someone with superpowers was simply that, to strike decisively before he had time to act.
Unfortunately, fear slowed him down for a couple of seconds.
Almost nothing, but it was enough for the cape to backtrack, taking refuge behind a house. He didn't hear a scream, not even a slight gasp. He doubted he had hit him. If it was a new hero or villain, independent, he wouldn't have many resources. He doubted that suit was bulletproof.
'Someone' didn't need to reload yet. He hadn't fired that much, and he would never lose count. It was like the beating of his heart, a natural process.
Every time he pulled the trigger, his whole body vibrated and he felt alive.
That was enough.
That would have to be enough until he suffered the violent death he sought. Perhaps, instead of a large-scale massacre, all he needed to PROVE something was to take down one person with superpowers.
Maybe he just needed to slit that damn insect's throat!
4
Taylor, crouched behind a house after barely dodging a bullet, was wondering why the hell she had thought she could be a superhero.
A complete stranger had appeared to save her from putting her life at risk to defend a group of teenage villains (but what bad luck, why had she heard everything except the most important part?).
Now no one would come to save her.
She had to stop that lunatic, that lunatic who didn't even have superpowers, or she would die miserably like that woman... In front of her eyes, without being able to do anything, great job, great job.
And the enemy was just a normal guy with a gun, not a supervillain. She had already said that, but for some reason she couldn't get it out of her head, as if that were the most important thing.
In any case, being a superhero... She never believed it would be easy, but it wasn't at all what she had imagined.
"He killed that woman in front of my eyes," she whispered to herself, her voice drowned out by the screams of frightened people, hoping a hero would come to save them and the roar of bullets that buzzed closer and closer. Her legs were trembling and if no bullet had hit her so far as it went through the wood, it had been mostly a bit of luck, right? The luck of being alive to continue suffering. "Why am I hesitating? Stopping him? It's obvious that I have to... kill him."
Yes.
It was something horrible that she preferred not to think about, that no one wanted to see themselves forced to do. But it would be self-defense. No one would blame her for killing him. Heck, they'd probably give her a medal. She knew that perfectly well, so she had to stop dithering and act.
She had been doing it.
While the lunatic who wanted to become a mass murderer continued to shoot at her cover and approach, she had been gathering swarms of bugs in the darkness. They were just waiting for the command.
She should kill him, right? Trying to simply 'stop' him wasn't worth it when more lives could be lost in the process, just because she tried to be virtuous—an idea childish and hollow compared to the weight of innocent lives.
She had the right to take justice into her own hands.
Whether she decided to kill or stop, she had to take a look. She could sense all sorts of things through the bugs, but it wasn't like she could see through their eyes. She couldn't direct them to the shooter blindly.
So, she needed to take a risky peek.
She nearly had her head blown off. She saw the black hole forming in the wall mere millimeters from her mask. Close, too close.
The lunatic with the rifle was also too close...
But he had fired too much, he had to reload.
Taylor swallowed hard.
She wouldn't get another chance.
Justice, injustice, what should be and what was. What did all that matter now? She just wanted to live... and go home!
She gave the order.
5
Kazuya hadn't moved an inch from where he was. He hadn't been able to muster the strength to do so. So, he still lay in the darkness of the sewer, amid the rubble. Breathing like a wild beast.
It didn't matter in what miserable state he found himself.
What mattered was that he was recovering, not slowly dying. He was definitely recovering, and when he did...
"I will defeat you, Azazel... and your power will be mine... forever. I am no piece... on your game board, and if I am, I will throw the damn table over and set it on fire. I swear it. I swear it. I swear ittttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!"
There was no one to hear him, but it didn't matter.
Kazuya howled his declaration of victory toward the heart of the skies tinged with black velvet, heralding a storm that would sweep away everything.
6
Danny heard the door open.
If circumstances had been different, he surely would have pretended to be still asleep. To not pressure her, not to demand too much of his daughter, who was already having a tough enough time.
He wanted to help her, of course. To be there for her.
But he wanted her to feel like she could come to him and tell him things, instead of meddling and forcing her to talk about the horrible reality and her worst fears. Danny was simply trying to be a good father, even though he had never had a good example.
He could say that he had done the best he could.
He just wished that it was enough, because it clearly wasn't. Taylor had barely told him anything since the incident, kept him at a distance. And now, she had felt the need to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night, without saying anything, in a neighborhood like this.
He felt sorry for her, but clearly it was time to intervene.
If he didn't do it now, he never would. Besides...
He had spent the whole night awake and watching TV. After the horrible things he had seen on TV, he had almost run out of the house looking for her...
And what he saw there...
It was a person in disguise. A cape, or a thug trying to pass as that to make things easier? In any case, his heart jumped into his throat. Danny stepped back, thinking that on top of everything they were going to rob them of the little they had, and that Taylor was still out there, somewhere, still in danger. If she wasn't dead already.
This person in disguise, cape or whatever it was, was covered in blood from head to toe. And shaking violently. Dying?
No.
"Oh, shit." The voice of his daughter, clearly, even through the mask. A possibility he hadn't even dared to think about. "It's... It's not mine."
The blood? It was good to know that, but it wasn't the most important thing right now, what was happening here? He felt like his world... was swaying and crumbling in the same way as when Annette died.
He didn't know what the hell to say.
Then, as if he hadn't had enough...
Taylor screamed in rage and frustration, but it was nothing compared to the sound of the air raid sirens.
7
"We've found him."
Kazuya didn't recognize the voice. He couldn't even see anything, though he doubted that would have helped. Anyway, the identity of the newcomer was the least of his concerns.
The important thing was what the hell he was here to do. With him, because he had found him.
But he couldn't see, he couldn't move, nor could he think. Only a few thin threads still tied him to consciousness. Kazuya was floating in a dark sea, deprived of everything, and the voice of the stranger barely reached him in some way. That was all.
Yes, that was it, he was just losing consciousness. He wouldn't die by any means!
"Let's hope he recovers soon... and that he has answers."
There were two of them now.
Once he recovered, he would teach a lesson to the fools who had dared lay hands on him, whoever they were, and to that monster arrogant enough to believe he could control him.
He swore it.
STORM RISING (Normal): FIN