Several years earlier…
The dojo was silent, the stillness broken only by the faint creak of the wooden floor as John—then still known as Anāman—leaned against a support beam. His breath came in labored gasps, his knuckles raw and trembling from the countless strikes he'd thrown in frustration. Across the room, Takumi sat cross-legged, sipping tea with the calm demeanor of someone observing a storm from a safe distance.
"You look like a man trying to outrun his own shadow," Takumi said at last, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Do you know why you're stuck?"
John glanced at him, his jaw tightening. "If I knew, I wouldn't be here beating myself bloody."
Takumi's lips curved into a faint smile, though his gaze remained sharp, cutting. "You're caught in a trap of your own making," he replied. "Trying to separate yourself from your desires. Caught up in the chains of morality. That's your problem."
John frowned, pushing off the beam, his voice taut with irritation. "What's wrong with caring about right and wrong? Isn't that what separates a sorcerer from a monster? Isn't that why we fight—to protect?"
Takumi set his tea cup down with deliberate precision and stood, his hands clasped behind his back as he paced across the room. "Protection. Righteousness. Altruism. Those ideas can guide you, yes. But they will also chain you. A sorcerer doesn't grow by clinging to them. You need something more fundamental—a desire, a selfishness that can push you further."
"Selfishness?" John scoffed, his disbelief obvious. "And you think being selfish somehow makes me stronger?"
Takumi stopped sharply, turning to face him, his gaze steady and unrelenting. "Yes," he said, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. "Because no one fights for nothing. Even the noblest causes are rooted in personal desire. To grow stronger. To prove something. To have control over your life. Everyone fights for what they want, whether they admit it or not."
John shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'm not fighting for myself. I'm doing this for the people I can protect."
"And there it is," Takumi said, his smile turning faintly knowing. "Even that is selfish. Because you want to be the one who stands between them and danger. You want the power to decide their fate, to be the savior, to bear the weight of their safety. That isn't selflessness, Anāman. That's control. That's your desire."
The words made John falter, his brows knitting. Takumi took a step closer, his voice steady but firm. "You're stuck because you're trying to filter everything through a moral lens. Let me give you a scenario. Imagine two warriors training to be the strongest. One does it because they want to conquer, to stand above everyone else. The other does it because they want to protect the people they care about. Which one is selfish?"
"The one who wants to conquer," John answered without hesitation.
"No," Takumi said simply. "They're equally selfish. The first one is honest about their desire. The second hides it behind a noble purpose, but it's still about what he wants: to protect, to feel like a savior, to avoid guilt. Both are driven by their own needs. That's not a bad thing, but here's the key—selfishness is what pushes them beyond their limits."
John crossed his arms, his frustration simmering. "So you're telling me I need to stop caring about right and wrong?"
"No," Takumi said, shaking his head. "I'm saying you need to face your own desires. Stop pretending they don't exist. Selfishness isn't wrong—it's human. It's what drives you forward."
John hesitated. "And if what I want is wrong?"
Takumi's expression softened, though his words were firm. "Then accept that. Understand why you want it. If you can't be honest with yourself, how can you ever be strong?"
John's eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, his breath visible in short, tense bursts. The two forces loomed closer, their sheer power distorting the air like a mirage. The ground itself trembled beneath their feet, as if the earth could feel the violence approaching. His ribs ached with every movement, but he forced himself to stand firm, cursed energy crackling faintly along his arms like the last embers of a dying fire.
"Whatever's coming," he said finally, his voice low and grim, "it's stronger than anything we've faced before. And it's heading straight for us. I'll buy you guys as much time as possible so you can escape."
Rapi adjusted her grip on her assault rifle, her sharp gaze unyielding. "We're not leaving you, Commander," she replied, her tone steady and resolute. "We stand and fight."
"You don't understand." John turned to face her, his expression strained, desperation clawing at his voice. "This isn't a fight—it's a massacre waiting to happen. I can sense them; you can't. Their power... it's like staring into an abyss. You need to leave while you still can."
Neon tilted her head, her usual optimism dampened by unease. "Master, you're scaring me. What's out there?"
John hesitated, his mind racing for the words to convey the enormity of the threat. How could he explain power so overwhelming it felt like gravity itself had shifted? He clenched his fists, the cursed energy flaring faintly around them. "Just trust me. Run."
"No," Rapi cut in, her tone sharp and unwavering. She stepped closer, her voice slicing through the rising tension like a blade. "We've been through worse. We're not abandoning you."
"Worse?" John snapped, his frustration boiling over. "This isn't 'worse.' This is suicide! I'm telling you to leave because I can't protect you from this!" His voice cracked, his usual control slipping. "Let me do my job!"
"And our job," Rapi countered, her voice calm but unyielding, "is to stay by your side."
Anis let out a sharp laugh, though the tension in her voice was unmistakable. "Nice try, Commander. You know we don't take orders like that. You're stuck with us."
Neon, gripping her shotgun tightly, gave a small, nervous smile. "Yeah Master, you're our Commander. Deal with it."
John's jaw tightened, his gaze flicking between them. Their resolve cut deeper than he wanted to admit. Part of him wanted to scream at them for their stubbornness, but another part—a selfish, desperate part—was relieved. Because if they stayed, he wouldn't have to face this alone.
He didn't have time to dwell on the thought. Neon's eyes widened suddenly, and she pointed at his arm. "Commander... why is your arm on fire?"
John glanced down at his hand. Blue flames of cursed energy flickered and swirled around his fist, a sight so familiar to him that he hadn't noticed. But what struck him wasn't the energy itself—it was the shock on their faces. They could see it.
His voice tightened as realization set in. "You can see this?"
Anis nodded slowly, her usual bravado slipping. "Clear as day. That's... not supposed to happen, right?"
"No," John muttered, his voice grim. "It's not."
The cursed energy was so dense, so overwhelming, that even those without the innate ability to perceive it could now see its effects. The realization hit him like a blow: whatever was coming was beyond anything he'd ever faced.
The ground trembled again, the pressure thickening with every passing second. John turned back to his squad, his expression hardening. "They're almost here. Last chance. Run."
But Rapi stepped forward, Anis and Neon moving in to flank her. Together, they stood shoulder to shoulder with him, their expressions firm and unyielding.
"We fight," Rapi said simply, her voice like steel. "Together."
John stared at her, his fists clenching at his sides "Fine," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Fine."
Neon tried to crack a smile, though her hands trembled as she adjusted her grip on her shotgun. "We've got you, Master. Just tell us what to do."
"Survive," John said, his voice like iron. "That's your only objective now. Survive."
The air grew heavier with every second, the pressure suffocating as two massive forms emerged from the storm. The sound of slicing wind and an unnatural hum heralded their arrival, their silhouettes sharp against the pale backdrop of snow. The squad froze, their breath caught in their throats as the mechanical monstrosities came into view.
The first resembled a towering angel of death, its metallic wings stretched wide like jagged blades poised to strike. Its silver frame gleamed coldly in the dim light, every edge sharpened to lethal perfection. Lines of molten orange streaked along its sleek armor, glowing faintly like veins of liquid fire. As its weaponized arms unfolded, the precision in its movements suggested a force designed purely to annihilate.
The second figure exuded raw, uncontrollable chaos. Its crimson and black form writhed as though alive, segmented appendages clawing deep trenches into the snow with each step. Its massive wings radiated a searing red glow, the heat melting patches of snow in its wake. A pair of draconic heads coiled behind its shoulders, jaws lined with razor-sharp metallic teeth that hissed steam with every breath. The scent of scorched iron filled the air, thick with malice.
The group tensed instinctively as the monstrosities began to shift. Their massive frames collapsed inward, the grinding of metal and whir of machinery creating a haunting, mechanical symphony. Plates of armor twisted and retracted with unsettling elegance, unveiling humanoid forms beneath. The transformation wasn't a retreat—it was a mockery, a demonstration of how easily they could shed their monstrous appearances to become something even more unnerving.
The silver figure stepped forward first. Her form was sleek and commanding, her long silver hair cascading down her back in a stark, almost ethereal contrast to the metallic visor concealing her eyes. A loose commander's coat hung from her shoulders, its insignia obscured but unmistakably tied to the Ark. Her movements radiated precision and control, and though her lips curved into a faint smile, her presence exuded a quiet menace. Even without her gaze visible, it felt as though her focus pierced directly into John, weighing and measuring him.
The crimson figure followed, her wild energy a sharp contrast to the other's cold control. Crimson hair tumbled in untamed waves, framing a face lit by burning, feral eyes. Her form seemed both human and monstrous, her armored appendages twitching like a restless predator's, while the twin draconic heads hissed and snapped behind her. Her grin widened into something cruel and mocking, a sharp promise of chaos and destruction.
The silver-haired woman broke the silence, her voice calm and almost playful. "I suppose introductions are in order, though I prefer actions to words." Her smirk deepened, the faintest hint of amusement in her tone. "I am Modernia, the one who holds the strings in this little game, and this is my colleague Nihilister. You've caught my interest, sorcerer. Let's see if you're worth it."
Her gaze drifted lazily to Chatterbox, who cowered at her feet, his frame shivering with faint, mechanical twitches. "How pitiful," she said softly, her tone dripping with disdain. "I trusted you to complete a simple task, and yet here you are, broken and useless." She knelt slightly, her voice shifting to mockery laced with an eerie softness. "Don't worry. I'll save you... even if you don't deserve it."
A harsh laugh broke through her words. Nihilister stepped forward, her claws tearing into the snow as she moved. "Save him?" she growled, her grin spreading wider. Her fiery eyes flicked to Modernia, brimming with unrestrained glee. "You're too soft, Modernia. He's a failure. Let me break him apart—it'll be fun."
Modernia didn't turn, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Not yet, Nihilister. Play with the others first." Her hand gestured dismissively toward the Counters. "The red and yellow ones... leave them breathing. The white one? Do as you like."
Nihilister's grin widened, revealing predatory teeth. "Finally," she hissed, her fiery wings flaring with anticipation. Her gaze locked onto Neon, and her voice dropped to a cruel whisper. "You'll be my first. Let's see how long you last."
Neon tensed, her grip tightening on her shotgun, though her hands trembled slightly. "Try it," she spat, her voice defiant but edged with fear.
Modernia turned back to John, her faint smile returning as if nothing else mattered. "And you..." Her tone was almost curious, her words deliberate. "You found him, didn't you?" She glanced briefly at Chatterbox, who whimpered in response. "Interesting. I had hoped he'd deliver you intact, but I suppose I'll have to handle this myself."
John stepped forward, his cursed energy flaring to life. Blue flames roared around his fists, casting flickering reflections across Modernia's visor. His voice was steady, though the strain of his resolve was evident. "You're not taking anyone," he said. "Not me. Not them."
Modernia's smirk widened slightly, her tone still laced with calm amusement. "We'll see," she said simply. "But you'll come with me eventually. It's inevitable."
Behind her, Nihilister let out a sharp laugh, stepping closer to the group. "You can't protect them all, sorcerer," she taunted. Her twin dragon heads roared unleashing a blast of heat, snow hissing as it evaporated beneath her. "I'm going to enjoy watching you fail."
The air grew impossibly heavy, charged with the weight of cursed energy and the cold certainty of violence about to erupt. Modernia tilted her head slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she watched the tension build. "Let's see," she said softly, "if you're as strong as you believe yourself to be."
Modernia made the first move. The machine gun that unfolded from her side was sleek and mechanical, its ammunition belt winding up with a deadly hum. A burst of bullets tore through the space between her and John with blistering speed, faster than anything he had ever encountered.
Normal human bullets were nothing to him—a blur he could dodge with ease. Nikke bullets, however, were different: fast, precise, and difficult to evade. But these... these were on an entirely different level. His instincts screamed at him, and he threw himself to the side. The bullets grazed his shoulder and ribs, leaving a trail of searing pain in their wake. He barely avoided being torn apart.
John stumbled, his balance momentarily thrown off, but he could tell by the faint smirk on Modernia's face that the grazing shots were intentional. She was toying with him, gauging his movements, his reactions.
Before John could recover, the crimson blur of Nihilister shot into the air, propelling herself towards the Counters with incredible speed. Her claws gleamed as they extended, her manic grin widening with glee as she targeted the group. Rapi raised her rifle, but there was no time to fire. Neon's shotgun and Anis's grenade launcher were poised, but their movements were a fraction too slow.
John's eyes snapped toward the Counters, and his body moved on instinct. His feet dug into the snow as he twisted his torso, rearranging his weight to whip into a flying side kick aimed at Nihilister. The burst of cursed energy that propelled him made the air ripple as he surged forward.
The kick cut through the air toward Nihilister's side, but at the last moment, she shifted, her body moving with serpentine grace. His kick missed her by inches, the sheer force of the motion sending a wave of displaced snow crashing into the ground. Nihilister laughed as she darted past, a streak of heat and malice blazing toward the Counters.
John's focus snapped back to Modernia even before his body began descending from the peak of his jump. He could feel her presence closing in, faster than he could fully register. His combat instincts screamed again, and with years of experience guiding him, he guessed her next move: a knee aimed at his abdomen.
He braced himself, raising his arms in a tight block just as she struck. Her knee connected with his forearms, and the impact was nothing short of devastating. The force of the blow sent him flying backward through the air, his arms trembling from the shock of absorbing the strike. Even through the cursed energy reinforcing his body, he felt the raw power of the hit radiate down to his bones.
John hit the snow hard, rolling to disperse the impact before flipping back to his feet. His arms ached from the block, the muscles and bones groaning in protest, but he steadied his stance. His sharp gaze locked onto Modernia, whose calm expression was betrayed only by the faintest hint of satisfaction in her stance.
Modernia closed the distance with terrifying speed, her form a blur of metallic precision. John braced himself as her attack came—a blindingly fast strike aimed at his head. He managed to duck just in time, the sound of her fist slicing through the air like a blade making his ears ring. His heart pounded in his chest as he retaliated with a counterpunch aimed at her midsection, only for her to sidestep effortlessly, leaving his fist to strike empty air.
The melee began in earnest.
Modernia's movements were a masterclass in efficiency. Every strike, every kick was deliberate, precise, and devastatingly powerful. Her attacks flowed seamlessly, with no wasted effort, forcing John to rely on every ounce of his combat training. His cursed energy flickered and roared, Ruinous Gambit running at full tilt to reinforce his body. He shifted attributes multiple times per second—enhancing his reaction time one moment, his muscle strength the next, then his balance, then his lung capacity—just to stay in the fight.
Her punches came in a relentless barrage, each blow aimed at vital points. John's experience kicked in, his mind racing to predict her movements. He focused on her body language: the slight shift in her weight before she pivoted, the tightening of her shoulders before a hook, the faint twitch of her hip telegraphing a kick. It was a technique drilled into him over years of combat—reading an opponent's intent before they committed to an attack.
Even so, each block felt like stopping a freight train. Her strikes sent shockwaves through his arms, the cursed energy barely keeping his bones intact. His forearms throbbed with every impact, and he could feel the tendons in his wrists straining under the relentless pressure. Modernia wasn't just strong—she was overwhelming.
He was being forced back, his boots digging trenches in the snow as he fought to maintain his footing. His mind raced, searching for a way to turn the tide. She was too strong to trade blows with, and her speed made counterattacks nearly impossible.
He needed a plan, something she wouldn't expect. As he ducked under a vicious right hook, his mind latched onto an idea born of desperation. He would have to create his own opportunities. He didn't have the luxury of waiting for her to slip up—because she wouldn't.
As he narrowly avoided another strike, the thought solidified. If she wouldn't make a mistake, he'd have to force one. His stance shifted, looser now, less guarded. He left small gaps in his defense—openings that to someone of Modernia's caliber would seem too tempting to ignore. It was a gamble, but it was the only way he could survive.
Modernia took the bait almost immediately. She feinted a jab toward his head before aiming a brutal kick at his ribs, exactly where he'd left the opening. John twisted his torso just in time, the kick grazing his side as he spun to the outside of her reach. Using the momentum, he delivered a low sweep aimed at her legs, but she hopped over it effortlessly, countering with an axe kick that he barely avoided by diving to the side.
Ruinous Gambit surged again, the cursed energy coursing through him like molten fire. His body was running on borrowed time, each enhancement burning through his reserves faster than he could manage. He reinforced his diaphragm to inhale deeply, his lungs expanding to their limit as he tried to steady his breathing. The next moment, he amplified his calves, launching himself backward to create distance as Modernia's fists slammed into the snow where he had been standing a split second earlier.
He left another opening, this time at his neck. Her eyes flicked to the exposed area, and she lunged with a sharp elbow strike aimed at his throat. But he had already moved, pivoting away from the attack and delivering a spinning backfist aimed at her temple. She caught his wrist mid-swing, her grip like a vice, and slammed him into the ground with a thunderous crash.
John gasped, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled to the side just in time to avoid her follow-up stomp, the ground splitting beneath her foot. He scrambled to his feet, his arms trembling, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His cursed energy flickered, the blue flames around him struggling to maintain their intensity.
Nihilister's crimson claws hung suspended mere inches from Neon's face, her molten breath steaming up the lenses of Neon's glasses. The smaller Nikke's breath hitched, her finger trembling on the trigger of her shotgun. The oppressive heat radiating from the claws made her feel as though she were suffocating.
"Scared, little one?" Nihilister sneered, her voice a melodic mockery. "You should be."
Before the claws could carve into Neon, Rapi and Anis slammed into Nihilister from opposite sides, their combined momentum enough to knock her off balance. The towering figure skidded across the snow, her clawed feet gouging deep trenches in the frozen ground. Neon staggered back, her breaths shallow as she scrambled to regain her composure.
Nihilister's dragon heads snapped in unison, releasing guttural growls as she steadied herself. "Rude," she hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits. "I was savoring that moment."
Rapi didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, rifle blazing as bursts of fire erupted against Nihilister's armor. Pivoting into a low stance, she followed the gunfire with a powerful spinning kick to Nihilister's side, her foot slamming into the joint of the monstrous figure's leg. The force was enough to stagger even Nihilister.
Anis flanked her, sliding into a calculated stance. Her grenade launcher slung aside, she opted for raw, unrelenting fists. Each jab and hook was aimed with precision at weak points in Nihilister's armor. The two worked in perfect tandem—Rapi's kicks and strikes flowing seamlessly with Anis' heavy punches, their unspoken rhythm driving Nihilister back.
But Nihilister wasn't just strong—she was an apex predator. With a growl, her claws lashed out in wide arcs. The wild ferocity of her strikes was almost impossible to predict, forcing Rapi and Anis onto the defensive. One dragon head snapped at Anis mid-punch, its metallic jaws locking around her forearm with a sickening crunch.
"Ahh, damn it!" Anis cried out, her face contorted in pain as the dragon's fangs dug deeper. The head twisted, the glow of molten heat creeping toward her armor as it prepared to melt through.
"Such pitiful resistance," Nihilister purred, her second dragon head rearing back, its maw glowing with fiery intent. A torrent of flames spewed toward Rapi, forcing her to dive into a roll. The ground where she'd stood moments ago was reduced to molten sludge.
"Get this thing off me!" Anis yelled, thrashing against the dragon's unrelenting grip.
From above, Neon launched herself onto the dragon's neck, her usual cheer replaced with raw determination. "You want a piece of her? Deal with me!" she shouted, racking her shotgun with a mechanical clack. At point-blank range, she fired into the dragon's skull, the blast tearing into metal and circuitry. She fired again, the recoil nearly toppling her, but the dragon head released Anis with a shriek of twisted metal.
As the dragon head collapsed, Nihilister staggered, her balance momentarily disrupted. Anis cradled her injured arm but reached for her grenade launcher, her jaw set in grim determination.
"Nice work, Neon," Rapi said, her voice clipped as she surged forward, capitalizing on the opening. Her strikes came faster now, her movements sharp and unrelenting. A knee to Nihilister's abdomen. An elbow to the jaw. A spinning back kick to her exposed side. Each hit landed with precision, but the towering figure barely flinched.
Nihilister recovered swiftly, her laughter echoing across the battlefield. "Oh, this is delightful," she cooed, her grin widening. "But let's see how long you last."
Her body began to shift, armor plates twisting and contorting with mechanical precision. The already monstrous figure grew taller, her crimson and black form exuding an aura of raw, suffocating power. Twin Gatling guns unfolded from her arms, their barrels spinning up with a whir that promised devastation. The vents along her limbs glowed brighter, pulsing with molten energy.
"Let's make this more entertaining," Nihilister purred, her distorted voice crackling with malice. The Gatling guns roared to life, unleashing a hailstorm of bullets that tore through the battlefield. Snow and rock erupted in all directions as the Counters scrambled for cover.
Anis threw herself behind a jagged boulder, her injured arm shaking as she primed her grenades. Neon dove into a snowbank, firing blindly to keep Nihilister distracted. Rapi darted through the chaos, her rifle trained on Nihilister's legs as she barked orders. "Aim for her joints! Slow her down!"
Anis launched a grenade that detonated against Nihilister's knee, the explosion sending shards of armor flying. Neon followed up with a close-range shotgun blast, her hands trembling from the recoil as she aimed for the exposed joint. The attacks staggered Nihilister for a moment, but her grin never faltered.
"Is that all you've got?" Nihilister mocked, her dragon heads snarling in unison. She lunged forward, her clawed foot slamming into Neon's side with the force of a freight train. Neon was hurled across the battlefield, her body crashing into a crumbling rock formation. She crumpled to the ground, her shotgun slipping from her grasp.
"Neon!" Anis screamed, rage flashing in her eyes. She unleashed another grenade, but Nihilister swiped it away with a casual flick of her claw. The explosion scattered debris, but Nihilister emerged unscathed, her glowing eyes locked on Anis.
"Your turn," Nihilister hissed, her claw slicing through the air. Anis raised her grenade launcher in defense, but the impact sent her sprawling. Her weapon clattered away, leaving her vulnerable as Nihilister loomed over her.
Rapi's rifle barked out precise shots, each bullet aimed at Nihilister's joints. "Stay away from them!" she shouted, her voice a mix of command and desperation.
Nihilister turned her attention to Rapi, her strikes growing faster and wilder. Rapi dodged and parried, her movements honed by years of training, but Nihilister's strength was overwhelming. Each block sent shocks rippling through Rapi's arms, her defenses buckling under the relentless onslaught.
Anis, bleeding and battered, pulled herself to Neon's side. "Come on, Neon," she muttered, shaking Neon's shoulder. "You're tougher than this. Get up."
Neon groaned, her voice faint but defiant. "Still... here," she whispered, her hands fumbling for her shotgun.
Nihilister, meanwhile, grinned down at Rapi, her claws raised for a final strike. "You've fought well enough," she said mockingly. "But it's time to end this little game."
The air grew heavier, the battlefield drenched in the oppressive weight of Nihilister's malice. Flames erupted from her vents, casting an eerie glow as she prepared to strike. The Counters were outmatched, their injuries piling up, their weapons ineffective. Nihilister's laughter rang out, triumphant and cruel.
Modernia launched her fist at speeds almost imperceptible, the sound of the blow echoing like a cannonshot. Her gut punch landed squarely, knuckles slamming into John's abdomen with enough force to lift him off the ground. The sheer power behind the strike rattled his bones, and his body involuntarily recoiled, preparing to be hurled backward. But before he could be flung away, Modernia's cold, calculating eyes tracked his movement, her hand shooting out to grip his right forearm.
Her fingers, impossibly strong, clamped down like a vice, the pressure threatening to pulverize his bones and splitting skin. John gritted his teeth, his vision momentarily swimming as he tried to focus. Before he could attempt any kind of counter, her free hand came up and delivered another devastating gut punch. Then another. And another. Each strike was precise, calculated, designed not just to hurt but to drain him of any fight left.
John's head snapped back as the world tilted. Consciousness slipped for a fleeting moment, his vision replaced with dark static before snapping back. He wheezed, gasping for air, but Modernia wasn't done. With an almost methodical ease, she hoisted him above her head and slammed him into the ground with earth-shattering force. The impact reverberated through the frozen battlefield, and cracks spiderwebbed across the snow and stone beneath him.
John struggled to breathe, his body screaming in pain, but Modernia was far from finished. She moved with terrifying precision, pinning him beneath her. Her hands wrapped around his throat like a vice, the cold metallic grip tightening as she stared straight into his eyes.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, her tone unnervingly calm. "It'll be easier that way. I'll wake you up when it's over."
John's vision darkened, black spots creeping in at the edges as his lungs begged for air. His arms clawed weakly at her unyielding grip, but it was like trying to move a mountain. His thoughts raced. This can't be how it ends. Think, John, think.
A sudden, desperate idea struck him. He locked eyes with Modernia, his voice a rasp as he forced himself to speak. "You've made... a mistake."
Her grip loosened slightly, just enough for him to drag in a ragged breath. She tilted her head, amusement flickering across her otherwise emotionless face. "Oh?" she said, her voice laced with curiosity. "And what would that be?"
John's lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile. "Nikkes' heads are unarmored. A built-in weakness. Manufacturers always leave a failsafe... in case they need to put you down."
Her expression remained unreadable, but he caught the faintest hesitation in her face. He pushed harder, playing on her intrigue. "And your grip—" he winced as her hand tightened slightly again. "You've split the skin on my right forearm. Enough blood to activate... my true cursed technique."
He raised his bleeding arm, pointing it toward her chin as if aiming a weapon. "Supersonic Blood."
For the briefest moment, Modernia flinched, her mechanical body twitching in reaction. Her grip loosened as she prepared to counter the attack. Nothing happened.
It had been a bluff.
John didn't waste the opening. With a burst of desperation-fueled strength, he twisted his body and bucked her off, the sudden movement sending her sprawling slightly to the side. Before she could recover, John coiled his legs beneath him, using the momentum of the roll to pivot into position. His feet aimed squarely at her head as he unleashed Final Gambit.
All the cursed energy he had left surged into his legs. The strain was immediate and agonizing—his muscles screamed, and his vision swam—but he forced it all out in one decisive motion. His legs lashed out like a spring-loaded weapon, colliding with Modernia's head with devastating force.
The impact was cataclysmic. The air seemed to rupture as the blow connected, sending Modernia flying back like a missile. She smashed into the snow several meters away, carving a deep trench into the frozen ground as her body skidded to a halt. A low, metallic groan emanated from the crater where she lay, faint trails of smoke rising from the damaged areas of her sleek frame.
John collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling from the exertion. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, every inch of him screaming in agony. His legs felt like dead weight, and his arms trembled violently as he pushed himself to his knees.
His eyes flicked toward Modernia, who was slowly rising from the crater, her head tilted slightly as if resetting. She wiped away a faint smear of spit—or was it blood?—from the corner of her mouth, her expression calm, though her face now burned with a flicker of annoyance.
"Impressive," she said softly, her voice steady despite the damage she'd taken. She flexed her hands, rolling her neck as if testing her systems. "You might actually sting… Too bad that was your last shot"
John grit his teeth, forcing himself to his feet even as his body protested. His cursed energy flickered faintly around him, the blue flames struggling to hold their form. His breathing was labored, but his gaze remained unbroken, locked on Modernia with unyielding determination.
"I'm not done yet," he muttered, his voice low but firm.
Modernia's lips curled into a faint, almost patronizing smile. "Good," she said, her tone carrying a quiet confidence. "I'd hate for this to end too soon."
John lunged forward, his cursed energy flickering like dying embers, barely clinging to life. Modernia met him head-on, her movements calm, deliberate, and precise. Their fists collided and then locked, the impact sending a shockwave through the air, scattering snow in all directions.
John's arms trembled violently, his muscles screaming under the strain. Her strength was crushing, a force of nature he couldn't match. Veins bulged along his forearms as he pushed with everything he had, but Modernia didn't even flinch. Her visor covered eyes locked onto his, cool and detached, like she was watching an insect struggle underfoot.
"You're wasting your energy," she said, her voice infuriatingly calm. "Why fight so hard when you know you can't win? Surrender. I'll make sure you survive."
The words struck him like a blow, fueling the fire burning in his chest. "FUCK YOU!" John bellowed, defiance ringing in his voice like a war cry. With a roar, he slammed his forehead into hers. The first headbutt sent a shockwave through his skull, and stars exploded in his vision. He didn't stop. Another. And another.
Blood trickled down his forehead as the third headbutt cracked Modernia's visor. His vision swam, and his head throbbed with pain, but he grinned through gritted teeth. She faltered, her composure briefly slipping as she touched the cracked visor, her faint frown betraying irritation.
"How crude," she said softly, her voice laced with disdain.
Her leg swept out in a blur, catching his ankles and sending him flying. But instead of falling helplessly, John twisted midair, using the momentum to swing his legs around her arm. His body coiled tightly as he locked onto her arm, attempting an armbar with a burst of cursed energy flaring around him.
"Clever," she murmured, almost amused. Then, without hesitation, she slammed him into the ground with bone-crushing force.
The impact left him gasping, the wind knocked from his lungs. Pain radiated through his back, but he refused to let go, twisting her arm with every ounce of strength he had left. She raised him again, slamming him down once more, the ground cracking beneath the force as snow erupted around them. This time, his grip broke, and she released him, towering over his battered form.
"What's the point?" she asked, brushing off her arm as if his effort had been nothing more than an annoyance. "You're broken. Outmatched. Why keep fighting when it's so clearly futile?"
John coughed, blood dribbling from his mouth as he struggled to his knees. His vision blurred, but his resolve burned brighter than ever. He forced himself upright, swaying slightly but refusing to back down. "Because... it's personal," he rasped, his voice trembling but unyielding. "I... need to find Marian."
Modernia froze, her expression blank for the briefest of moments. A subtle tremor passed through her frame, so faint that neither she nor John fully registered it. Her cursed energy flickered—a microsecond of vulnerability, so brief it felt like a breath caught in the frozen air.
John didn't notice, his gaze locked on her as he took a shaky step forward. "You wouldn't understand," he spat, his voice ragged yet fierce. "But I don't care how strong you are. I'll find her. No matter what."
Modernia's lips curved into a faint smile, but there was a stiffness to it now, as though something unseen was weighing on her. "Marian…"
The air grew heavier as John's cursed energy began to spike. The faint blue flames that had flickered so desperately moments ago now erupted into something darker, more volatile. He stood hunched, his breaths ragged and shallow, yet there was an eerie stillness in his gaze. His resolve had shifted.
John clenched his fists, feeling the strain deep within his body. He didn't just pull from his cursed energy now—he reached deeper, into the core of his very being. The rules of Ruinous Gambit were clear: the technique could amplify his attributes by drawing power from one to enhance another. But John knew that wouldn't be enough anymore. This was different. A binding vow. His body for his strength. His life for his survival.
A sharp, painful heat surged through him as the technique ignited. His body glowed faintly, veins illuminating with a fiery red as if magma coursed through his blood. He felt his muscles tighten, his joints creak, and his skin blister under the sheer energy coursing through him. Every heartbeat carried a cost, every second chipped away at his lifespan.
Two minutes. Maybe two and a half. That was the time he estimated he had left before his body collapsed under its own weight.
Despite the pain, John grinned grimly, baring bloodied teeth. "Let's finish this."
He moved faster than he thought possible, the snow crunching violently beneath his feet as he dragged his hands through it, scooping and throwing a cascade of frost into the air. Modernia leapt back instinctively, her crimson eyes narrowing as she analyzed the attack. The snow hung like a veil between them, masking his movements.
Then she saw it. A shadow approaching from the left—faintly human-shaped, the unmistakable outline of his coat. She moved to intercept, her combat instincts honed to perfection. Her fist cleaved through the figure, tearing it apart effortlessly. Only then did she realize it wasn't him at all. The coat fell in tatters, revealing the rock it had been wrapped around.
Modernia turned sharply to her right, her sensors registering the heat before her eyes did. A red-glowing figure emerged from the snow like a phantom—topless, his skin steaming, his torso scarred and burned from his own cursed energy.
John was upon her in an instant, his movements primal yet precise. He launched a brutal elbow strike aimed at her head, the blow narrowly avoided. Modernia retaliated, her fist lashing out, but John ducked low and countered with a savage uppercut that clipped the edge of her jaw. The force of the strike sent her reeling, her crimson eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise.
He didn't let up. His strikes came in rapid succession—a flurry of elbows, punches, and open-handed blows all aimed at her head and neck. Each attack carried the weight of his burning life force, each one faster and more vicious than the last. Modernia tried to retaliate, her movements smooth and efficient, but John dodged with razor-thin precision, his body moving like a dancer in a deadly rhythm. Every strike he avoided opened an opportunity for a counter, and every counter landed with enough force to send tremors through her frame.
Modernia staggered as one particularly brutal punch hit the side of her head, her crimson visor cracking further. She stumbled, trying to right herself, but John didn't give her the chance. He closed the distance in a blur, his knee driving into her abdomen with enough force to send her skidding backward through the snow, her feet leaving trenches in the frozen ground.
For the first time, Modernia looked... confused. Her mind raced, analyzing the situation. Her systems were operating at peak efficiency. Her condition was near flawless. By all calculations, she should be able to handle him with ease. And yet, here he was—this battered, broken human—forcing her onto the backfoot.
John wiped blood from his mouth, steam rising from his glowing body as he stood tall amidst the swirling snow. His breaths came heavy and labored, but his grin never faltered. "What's wrong?" he spat, his voice rough but mocking. "You're supposed to be stronger than me. Can't keep up?"
Modernia's red eyes narrowed, her frown deepening. She steadied herself, her stance shifting slightly as she began to recalibrate her approach. "You shouldn't be able to do this," she said, her voice calm but edged with frustration. "Your condition is so deteriorated... and yet..."
John cut her off by darting forward again, his movements erratic yet purposeful. Every motion screamed desperation, but there was precision in the chaos. Modernia moved to intercept, but this time she was slower—just by a fraction, but enough for John to exploit. He drove his elbow into her torso, followed by a spinning backfist that connected with her temple. She staggered again, and for the briefest moment, there was a flicker of something in her crimson eyes. Doubt.
John's body burned, his skin searing with the heat radiating from his cursed energy. Each step felt heavier, the countdown in his head relentless: 1 minute 43 seconds. His breath came ragged, his chest heaving as he watched Modernia with bloodshot eyes. She was stronger, her movements faster, and yet... there was a crack in her precision, a stutter in her rhythm.
He noticed it with every exchange. Her strikes landed harder than anything he had ever felt, but they were almost... disjointed. Disoriented. It was as though something was holding her back—not physically, but somewhere deeper.
1 minute 47 seconds.
She lunged at him, her red eyes burning with frustration, her blows carving through the air like scythes. John twisted his torso, narrowly dodging a strike aimed at his ribs, using the momentum to step into her guard. His fist lashed out, but her block came up faster. The impact of their limbs colliding sent a jarring shockwave through his body, the bones in his forearm screaming under the force of her resistance.
Her crimson gaze locked onto him, a flicker of something—uncertainty?—glinting behind her otherwise unshakable confidence. "Why?" she asked, her voice colder than the snow surrounding them. "Why keep fighting? You've already lost."
John's lips twisted into a defiant grin, even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "You think this is losing?" he rasped. "It's not over yet."
1 minute 52 seconds.
He surged forward again, his body screaming in protest as he pushed Ruinous Gambit to its limits. Each step was agony, his muscles tearing under the strain, but he forced himself onward. His mind raced, analyzing her attacks, the subtle hesitation in her strikes, the way she almost seemed... distracted. She should have been winning—crushing him effortlessly—but something was clearly wrong.
Modernia's movements faltered, her strikes coming faster but less precise. Her red eyes narrowed as though searching for an answer to her own failing efficiency.
"1 minute 57 seconds," John muttered under his breath. His vision blurred slightly, but he steadied himself, planting his feet in the snow. He couldn't afford a misstep now. This was his last chance.
He focused his cursed energy into his fist, feeling the raw power coalesce as he prepared a final strike. The heat around him intensified, steam rising from the melting snow beneath his feet. He launched himself forward, his punch aimed directly at her head, but then—slip.
His footing faltered, his weight shifting too far forward. His fist veered slightly off course, heading straight into her prepared block. He cursed internally, knowing this would be the end.
But just as their limbs were about to collide, a massive surge of cursed energy erupted in the distance, its pressure like a tidal wave crashing through the battlefield.
Modernia's head snapped toward the source, her movements stuttering as the overwhelming energy distracted her for a crucial instant. John, however, didn't hesitate. He tightened his core, realigned his strike, and his fist connected with her jaw.
The impact unleashed every ounce of cursed energy he had left. The force of the blow sent Modernia hurtling through the air, her body carving a deep trench into the snow as she crashed far into the distance.
John staggered, his vision swimming, the edges of his consciousness flickering like a dying flame. He collapsed onto his knees, his overheated body melting the snow beneath him. Steam rose in a thick cloud, shrouding him as his strength drained away.
He glanced at his trembling hands, barely able to form a fist. 4 seconds left, he thought, his lips curling into a bitter, rasping laugh. The sound was hoarse, filled with pain but also defiance, echoing faintly in the cold, quiet expanse around him.
As John fell to his knees, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down like an anchor, his gaze shifted to the battlefield ahead. His vision, blurred and wavering, sharpened for just a moment—and what he saw made him freeze.
Rapi.
Her hair, once a muted brownish-blonde, now glowed with an intense, fiery red, cascading around her like a living flame. The transformation was striking, and as she moved, her every step exuded an unyielding, almost divine power. Her form was a blur of speed and precision, each strike landing with an impact that shook the ground. Nihilister, the towering, mechanical monstrosity, was being driven back
John's chest tightened as he watched. In the chaos and violence, there was something hauntingly beautiful about her overwhelming strength. The way the crimson energy enveloped her, the way her every strike seemed to carry the weight of her determination—it was mesmerizing.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he realized he couldn't look away. Even battered and bruised, the sight of her was captivating, her fiery presence cutting through the despair of the battlefield like a beacon. For a moment, amidst the destruction, John felt a pang of something he couldn't quite place—admiration, perhaps, or maybe something deeper.
"Rapi..." he muttered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the fight, his words lost in the howling wind and the echoes of their clash.
A few minutes earlier
Anis winced as Nihilister's monstrous form loomed closer, her vents hissing as the heat grew unbearable. Flames burst from Nihilister's clawed hands, surging toward the two battered Nikkes. Anis gritted her teeth, throwing herself over Neon to shield her, her armor blackening under the relentless wave of fire. The air burned, searing her lungs with every breath.
"I… I'm scared, Anis," Neon whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. "I don't… I can't—"
"Don't you dare," Anis snapped, her voice trembling but fierce. She tightened her grip on Neon, steadying her own shaking frame. "We're not done yet. Got it?"
Nihilister's mocking laughter cut through the chaos like a blade. "How quaint," she sneered, her molten eyes glowing with malicious glee. "Do you really think you can stop me? You're nothing but broken toys."
Anis staggered to her feet, planting herself between Neon and the advancing terror. Neon tried to steady her shotgun with trembling hands, but Nihilister's looming form stole every ounce of courage she had left. The dragon-headed monstrosity raised a glowing claw, poised for a fatal strike.
Then the air shifted.
An oppressive energy washed over the battlefield, freezing Nihilister in her tracks. The snow trembled, the tension in the air suffocating as a crimson light began to crackle in the distance. Anis and Neon turned their heads in unison, their wide eyes locking onto Rapi as she stepped forward.
The battered Nikke was a different figure now. Her every movement was deliberate, her presence commanding. Crimson streaks of energy pulsed through the snow, radiating from her like the embers of a dying star reigniting.
Rapi's voice cut through the heavy air like a gunshot: "Inputting liberation code." Her tone was calm, almost detached, as if the words themselves were a weapon. Her grip on her rifle tightened as she continued, each syllable laced with unyielding resolve. "Operating level increasing to limit of sub-generator. Secret body activate."
The transformation was instantaneous. Crimson energy surged across Rapi's frame, illuminating her armor with an otherworldly glow. Her dull brownish-blonde hair ignited into a fiery red, cascading like a blazing banner down her back. Her posture straightened, her movements smooth and calculated as the ground seemed to bend beneath her presence.
Anis and Neon froze, awe and disbelief etched into their faces. This wasn't just their teammate; this was something beyond them, something invincible. For the first time, the oppressive despair lifted, replaced by a flicker of hope.
Rapi's gaze turned toward them, her fiery hair swirling in the icy wind. "Stay back," she ordered, her voice steady, almost mechanical. "I'll deal with her."
Nihilister's grin widened, her clawed feet crunching into the snow as she advanced. "Finally," she purred, molten energy swirling around her. "Something interesting."
Rapi discarded her rifle, letting it fall to the ground without a second glance. Her fists and feet were now her weapons, stronger than any steel. She dashed toward Nihilister, the air rippling in her wake as she closed the distance in an instant.
Her opening strike was devastating: a spinning hook kick that slammed into Nihilister's torso, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Before Nihilister could recover, Rapi followed with a lightning-fast sidekick to the head, the impact staggering the monstrous Nikke. Her strikes flowed seamlessly—each blow a precise and calculated dismantling of her enemy. A jumping roundhouse cracked Nihilister's shoulder, and a barrage of low kicks targeted her legs, forcing her balance to waver.
Nihilister roared in frustration, her claws slashing wildly through the air. But Rapi moved like a phantom, evading each strike with fluidity and grace. She slipped inside Nihilister's guard, delivering a spinning back kick to her chest that sent her skidding across the battlefield.
"You think this will be enough?" Nihilister snarled, her molten eyes blazing. "I'll grind you into the ground!"
Rapi didn't respond. Her only reply was a leaping axe kick that came down with the force of a hammer, shattering the armor on Nihilister's arm. The monstrous Nikke howled in pain, her molten claws lashing out in retaliation. Rapi ducked low, countering with a swift push kick that struck Nihilister squarely in the abdomen, forcing her back.
The tide of battle seemed to shift, but inside, Rapi was faltering. Her movements grew faster, more ferocious, but her thoughts blurred. Red Hood's presence loomed in her mind, her identity fading with every blow she delivered. The power flowing through her was intoxicating—overwhelming—but it wasn't hers. It belonged to Red Hood.
This is what's best, she thought, her vision darkening. Red Hood can protect them. She's what they need. I'm just a placeholder.
Nihilister charged, her claws glowing with molten energy as she aimed a killing blow at Rapi's chest. Rapi countered with a spinning crescent kick, deflecting the strike. But her body faltered. Her strength remained, but her will was slipping. I'll give it all up, she resolved. For them. For him.
In the depths of her consciousness, Rapi found herself in a shadowed void. Red Hood stood before her, sharp and imposing, her fiery presence a reflection of the power Rapi now wielded.
"You're hesitating," Red Hood said, her voice edged with disdain. "You want me to take over. Why?"
Rapi lowered her gaze, her voice soft but filled with resignation. "Because I'm not enough. I'm just a copy—a flawed imitation. You're what they need, not me."
"And you think giving up will protect them?" Red Hood's tone was sharp but not unkind. She stepped closer, her gaze unyielding. "You think they need me more than they need you?"
Rapi hesitated. "They deserve better."
Red Hood scoffed. "You don't understand, do you? You're not protecting them by throwing yourself away. You're abandoning them."
Another voice joined the fray—quieter, yet undeniably Rapi's own. "Why do you want this?" it asked, a whisper that cut through the void. "What are you really fighting for?"
The realization struck like a blow. Her deepest fears, her doubts, were not just hers—they were echoes of Red Hood's legacy and her own buried desires. "I want to protect them," Rapi admitted, her voice trembling. "Not because it's right. Because I can't lose them. I can't lose him."
Red Hood's gaze softened, and she placed a hand on Rapi's shoulder. "Then fight for that. Fight as yourself."
With a surge of resolve, Rapi shoved the doubt away, reclaiming her will. The void shattered, and her eyes snapped open just as Nihilister lunged at her.
Her body moved with renewed purpose. She pivoted sharply, delivering a flawless turning kick that struck Nihilister's side with a thunderous crack. The force of the blow fractured the monstrous Nikke's armor, sending her hurtling through the air.
Nihilister crashed into the snow, her monstrous form dissolving as she tumbled. When she rose again, she was in her humanoid state—battered, her molten eyes burning with fury but dimmer than before.
Rapi stood tall, her fiery hair billowing in the cold wind, her chest heaving but her stance unyielding. The battlefield fell silent, the snow swirling in the aftermath of her decisive blow. She was triumphant.
But the triumph was short-lived.
Nihilister groaned, her twisted, molten frame trembling as she clawed at the snow, forcing herself upright. Her fiery eyes seared with unrestrained fury, the heat around her intensifying until the air itself shimmered. "You… dare… humiliate me?" she hissed, her voice venomous and raw.
Rapi took a shaky step back, her body teetering on the edge of collapse. The crimson blaze of her hair faded, retreating to its original blonde as Red Hood's power left her. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her every muscle screaming in protest. "Stay down," she commanded, though her voice was faint, lacking the steel of before.
But Nihilister didn't listen. Her molten claws dug into the ground, her snarl reverberating across the battlefield as she prepared to lunge.
Then, a figure emerged from the mist.
Modernia stepped into view, her tall, imposing frame cutting through the haze with unnerving precision. Her movements were deliberate, mechanical, but there was an irregularity to her steps—a hesitation, a stagger that betrayed the damage she'd sustained. Wisps of smoke curled from her cracked systems, and her crimson eye glinted through the shattered visor, locked onto Rapi with a chilling focus.
"Enough," Modernia said, her tone calm but layered with sharp irritation. She cast a disapproving glance at Nihilister, who froze mid-motion. "You're in no condition to continue. Neither am I. The sorcerer and this Nikke have damaged us far beyond expectations."
Nihilister snarled, her claws carving into the snow as molten energy bled from her wounds. "Damaged? I'm not done yet! I'll tear her apart!"
Modernia ignored the outburst, her gaze shifting to Rapi. Her expression remained unreadable, though there was a spark of recognition in her piercing eye. "A Grimm's model," she murmured, almost to herself. "Intriguing… and problematic."
Rapi's shoulders stiffened, her instincts flaring as she steadied her stance. She had no rifle to raise—only her fists, bloodied and trembling from the battle. She said nothing, her ragged breathing the only sign of her exhaustion.
Modernia stepped closer to Nihilister, her voice sharpening. "Stand down. We're leaving. Continuing this is pointless. My systems are compromised. Dragging this out will only worsen things."
"I don't care!" Nihilister roared, shrugging off Modernia's hand with a violent swipe. Her claws flared as her molten body erupted in flames, her voice rising in a guttural scream. "I'll kill her! I'll burn her until there's nothing left!"
With blinding speed, Nihilister lunged at Rapi, her claws blazing as they cut through the air. Rapi barely had time to react, raising her arms in defense as the force of the blow sent shockwaves through the battlefield.
Though Red Hood's power was gone, the damage Rapi had inflicted earlier left Nihilister weakened. Her strikes were wild, unrefined—still monstrous in their strength, but slower, less precise. Every motion bled molten energy from her damaged frame, her fury driving her beyond reason.
Rapi gritted her teeth, her legs quaking beneath her as she fought to keep up. She deflected Nihilister's frenzied swipes, countering with sharp, calculated kicks aimed at her exposed joints. A low kick struck Nihilister's damaged knee, forcing her to stumble. Rapi pressed the advantage, delivering a spinning roundhouse to Nihilister's side that sent the fiery Nikke staggering back.
"You're resilient," Nihilister spat, her molten eyes blazing with hatred. "But it won't save you."
In the distance, Anis and Neon watched, their battered forms slumped against a mound of snow. Anis's face was pale, her hand clutching her side as she squinted toward a figure on the horizon. "Is that… John?" she muttered, her voice faint.
Neon followed her gaze, her trembling hands gripping Anis's arm for balance. Her eyes widened as she spotted him. "It is… Master! He's on his knees… he's not moving!"
Anis's jaw tightened, and she forced herself upright despite the searing pain in her limbs. "We can't let him stay there. Rapi's running on fumes." She turned to Neon, gripping her shoulder. "Come on. We have to get him up."
Neon hesitated, her battered body screaming in protest, but she nodded. "Right… right. Let's go."
Together, the two Nikkes staggered through the snow, their breaths ragged and shallow as they pushed toward their commander. Behind them, the echoes of Rapi's strikes and Nihilister's roars reverberated across the battlefield, a reminder that the fight was far from over.
A dull pounding echoed in John's skull, like a distant drumbeat muffled by layers of fog. His body was heavy, every limb weighed down by searing aches and raw, burning exhaustion. Someone was shaking him—vigorously, almost desperately. He struggled to pull his thoughts together, fragments of memory flickering like dying embers.
Where am I? His mind clawed at fleeting images—the heat of cursed energy roaring through him, the clash with Nihilister, the imposing presence of Modernia. It felt like chasing shadows, the answers slipping further away with each attempt to grasp them.
"Master!" Neon's voice broke through the haze, sharp with urgency. Her face hovered inches from his, her expression a mixture of panic and determination. Beside her, Anis worked methodically, her hands steady as she applied pressure to a wound on his side. Her usual bravado was absent, replaced by a grim focus.
John blinked, trying to speak, but his throat was parched, his voice refusing to obey. Instead, he pushed himself upright, his vision swimming as the world around him snapped into focus. Neon's frantic words finally pierced the fog.
"Rapi… she's still fighting!" Neon's tone trembled, but her desperation was edged with hope. "She's—she's holding them off, but she's barely holding on!"
"Idiot, stop moving!" Anis snapped, though her tone softened as she saw him struggle to rise. Relief flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by frustration. "You're no good to anyone like this. Just—stay put."
John ignored them. His muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself to his feet, every motion a monumental effort. Pain coursed through his body, but he shoved it aside. He had to see. He had to know.
His gaze turned toward the battlefield, and the scene before him crystallized.
Rapi stood alone, her body battered but unyielding. She moved with an almost mechanical precision, her fists and legs striking Nihilister with desperate force. Flames erupted around her as Nihilister retaliated, yet Rapi refused to falter. Her blonde hair, no longer glowing crimson, clung to her face, damp with sweat and snow.
John's breath hitched. The sight of her defiance stirred something deep within him—admiration, guilt, and a gnawing sense of failure. She shouldn't be standing there alone. He clenched his fists weakly. I shouldn't have left this to her. Not alone.
But his attention shifted, drawn to a second figure. Modernia.
The heretic stood a short distance away, her coat billowing in the icy wind. Her movements were deliberate, almost surgical, her crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the shattered visor. Smoke curled from her damaged systems, but her posture remained eerily composed.
John squinted, his brow furrowing. There was something about her—the coat, the way she moved, the cadence of her voice when she had spoken earlier. Familiarity gnawed at him like a blade, sharp and insistent.
Why does she feel familiar?
Modernia's gaze flicked toward him, her crimson eyes locking onto his with unsettling clarity. For a moment, the chaos seemed to fall away, and John felt a chill run down his spine. Her stance, her presence—there was an echo in it, a whisper of something he couldn't place.
"Master, stop!" Neon's voice broke the spell as she grabbed his arm, her grip trembling but firm. "You can't go out there! You'll get yourself killed!"
Anis joined her, her voice sharp with exasperation. "You're in no condition to fight, dammit! Let us—let her handle it for now!"
But John barely heard them. His focus was locked on Modernia, the puzzle pieces in his mind hovering just out of reach. Each step toward her felt like a step closer to an answer he didn't yet understand.
And then, the pieces fell into place.
The shattered visor. The faint contours of her face. Her ark commander coat. The resonance of her cursed energy. Recognition struck him like a physical blow, his breath catching in his throat.
It's her.
"Marian," he whispered, the name slipping from his lips as if it had been waiting there all along. The weight of the realization crushed him, but he forced himself to speak louder, his voice breaking with emotion.
"Marian!"
Modernia's crimson eyes snapped to him. Her towering, mechanical frame stilled, the deadly precision of her movements faltering as her gaze fixed on his. Her arm, raised for a devastating strike, froze mid-motion. For a moment, her face was unreadable—cold, calculating—but then, like a crack in steel, something softer, almost fragile, flickered across her expression.
"Marian!" John shouted again, his voice breaking as he staggered forward, each step a battle against the searing pain in his ribs and legs.
Rapi, battered but resolute, stood firm amidst the chaos. She was unarmed, her discarded rifle lying somewhere in the snow, but her sharp eyes never left Modernia. Her fists clenched tightly, and every instinct screamed for her to act. "John, get back!" she barked, her voice cutting through the tension. "It's not safe!"
Modernia's lips parted, her head tilting slightly as if grappling with the sound of her name. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath, the air heavy with anticipation as that single word hung like a fragile thread between them.
From the side, Nihilister shattered the silence with a feral roar—a molten, savage sound that rippled across the snow-covered plain. Her massive frame surged forward, her claws gleaming with fiery energy. She barreled past Modernia, her searing rage fixed on John and Rapi.
Rapi reacted instantly. She lunged into Nihilister's path, driving a powerful side kick into her molten leg. The impact made Nihilister stagger, but her fiery claws lashed out, forcing Rapi to pivot and duck with sharp, practiced precision. Flames erupted from Nihilister's vents, their heat blistering the air and casting jagged shadows across the battlefield.
"Marian," John called again, his voice resolute as he stumbled forward despite the agony in his side.
Modernia flinched, her fingers twitching at her sides. Her red eye wavered, darting as though fighting an unseen force. Then, like a dam breaking, she fell to her knees. Her imposing frame seemed to shrink as trembling hands clutched her head. "Marian..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, fragile and filled with confusion. "That's... me? Marian..."
John was almost there, his hand outstretched, when a sudden force struck him like a freight train. Nihilister's molten claws slammed into his side, sending him sprawling into the snow. Pain erupted through his body, stealing his breath and blurring his vision.
"You'll regret this!" Nihilister snarled, towering over him as her clawed foot raised to crush him.
"Not today!" Rapi's voice rang out as she surged forward. She ducked beneath Nihilister's strike, spinning low before driving a powerful roundhouse kick into Nihilister's exposed joint. The impact cracked the molten armor, forcing Nihilister to roar in pain and stagger backward.
Rapi darted to John's side, pulling him to his feet with a strength that belied her battered frame. Her grip was firm, her voice sharp. "John, we have to move!" she hissed, her breath ragged but resolute.
John's gaze remained locked on Modernia. She knelt in the snow, her shoulders trembling as she clung to her own confusion. Her lips moved silently, repeating the name that had shaken her foundation.
"Marian," she whispered again, her voice cracking. Her once-imposing presence seemed to collapse under the weight of the name, as though it carried the full force of her lost humanity.
John shook his head, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through him. "No. I'm not leaving her… Thats Marian"
Rapi glanced at him, her expression hard but conflicted. She looked back at Modernia, then at Nihilister, who was regrouping for another strike. "You're sure?" she asked, her voice low but sharp.
"I'm sure," John said, his voice carrying a conviction that left no room for doubt. He squared his stance beside her, his fists trembling but ready. "I have to be a part of this."
Rapi sighed, "Then let's make it count," she said, her voice steady as they faced down the storm together. Modernia sat just feet away, a broken soldier lost in her own memories, as the battle raged around her.
John surged forward alongside Rapi, their steps synchronized as they closed the distance to Nihilister. The snow and ash churned beneath their boots, and in his mind, John's thoughts raced, pulling him away from the moment and into the depths of his own guilt.
I'm sorry, Marian, he thought, his chest tightening with the weight of his confession. This isn't just about you. It's about me. My need to prove something—to prove I'm more than just a tool. That I can still be a hero. That I can save someone I failed. His fists clenched tighter, a bitter taste rising in his throat. I wish this was pure, altruistic. But it's not. It's selfish. And you deserve better than that.
Beside him, Rapi moved with the same resolve, though her thoughts carried a different burden. Red Hood... I'm sorry, she thought, her gaze unwavering as her rifle gleamed in her hands. I tried to carry your legacy, to honor what you stood for. But I've failed. I wasn't strong enough to protect everyone, to live up to what you wanted me to be, to move past my own selfish desire.
Her eyes darted briefly to John, then forward again. I've found them—a team I care for, friends who matter to me, and even a commander I'm proud to follow. She bit her lip, her emotions sharpening her focus. I'm selfish, Red Hood. I want to live. Even if it means I've failed the legacy you left me... I still want to survive.
The air shifted around them. As the two rushed toward Nihilister, Rapi's hair suddenly began to bleed crimson again, the color spreading like ink across her strands. John's senses screamed as he felt an overwhelming surge of cursed energy explode from her presence—so sharp and intense that it mirrored the burst he'd felt earlier that had distracted Modernia.
He glanced at her, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as the sheer force of her energy nearly staggered him. This is the same energy.
John and Rapi closed the gap, their thoughts silent now as they faced Nihilister together. Nihilister's mocking laughter echoed through the snow-covered battlefield as she charged back at them, her dragon-like form exuding sheer destructive power. Her claws tore through the icy ground as she roared, "How pathetic! Two fools charging to their deaths. Let's see how far your resolve gets you when I grind you into the ice!"
John and Rapi didn't falter, their steps in perfect tandem. Each movement carried the weight of unspoken resolve, their breaths synchronized, dissolving the chaos of the battlefield into singular focus. The clash ahead loomed, but neither hesitated. Then, just as the gap between them and Nihilister narrowed, a glint of light caught John's eye—a pinpoint reflection slicing through the swirling frost like a silent signal.
The sun gleamed off the distant scope of a sniper rifle. John barely had time to process the sight before a blinding golden beam cut through the sky with a deafening crack, illuminating the battlefield with celestial brilliance. The energy-laden shot slammed into Nihilister's chest, its force so precise and overwhelming that it stopped her mid-charge. Her roar of fury and pain echoed as she staggered, thrown violently into the path of John and Rapi's impending attack.
The two pulled back instinctively, their movements perfectly aligned. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments—a silent understanding that this was it—and they surged forward again, their combined determination boiling over into action. As Nihilister reeled, her mechanical form exposed and vulnerable, they unleashed a dual uppercut, their fists blazing with the full force of their cursed energy.
Time seemed to warp around them, reality bending under the immense power they summoned. The air rippled with a raw, primal force as their fists connected in unison, their combined strength igniting a phenomenon that transcended the ordinary.
The Black Flash roared into existence, an otherworldly explosion of cursed energy that tore through the battlefield. The very fabric of existence seemed to tremble as their wills collided with Nihilister's unyielding form. The cursed energy burned impossibly black, streaked with veins of searing crimson and radiant gold, like the collision of dying stars igniting the heavens. The impact sent shockwaves that shattered ice, snow, and air, radiating outward in a perfect, deafening sphere of destruction.
Nihilister's massive frame was hurled into the distance, crashing with earth-shattering force into the frozen ground. A deep crater formed where she landed, the battlefield scarred by the sheer might of their attack.
John's arm quivered violently, his knuckles raw and searing with pain. He staggered back, his chest heaving with the effort of simply remaining upright. Beside him, Rapi stood tall, her crimson hair crackling faintly with residual energy, her own fist smoking from the intensity of the strike.
For a moment, the battlefield was utterly still, the echoes of their combined fury hanging in the air like an unanswered prayer. The weight of the moment pressed down, as though the universe itself had paused to bear witness to their triumph.
But the silence didn't last.
A soft, persistent sound broke the stillness—Modernia, kneeling in the snow, her broken visor exposing a face that was eerily familiar. Her lips moved almost mechanically as she muttered a single word, over and over again: "Marian."
The ground began to tremble faintly beneath their feet, the vibrations growing stronger with each whispered repetition. Black light started to radiate from Modernia's form, faint at first, then intensifying until the battlefield itself seemed to pulse with its ominous glow. The light crawled across her armor, her shattered frame, like a living thing, growing brighter and more unstable with each passing second.
"Marian..." The name fell from her lips again, but this time there was something different—something human. Her crimson eyes flickered, losing their cold luster. Her gaze slowly rose, locking onto John. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she stared at him, recognition dawning in her expression.
"Commander?" Her voice was faint, trembling, yet filled with a fragile hope that shattered the cold detachment she had worn.
John's breath caught in his chest. The word hit him like a physical blow, unraveling his composure. Before he could take a step toward her, the black light around her erupted in a violent explosion, the force throwing him backward like a ragdoll. He hit the snow hard, the searing heat of the blast melting the ice around him as his vision swam.
The last thing he saw before darkness consumed him was Marian's teary gaze, her lips forming a word he couldn't quite hear as his consciousness slipped away.