I got it before I was ten.
Seventeen years ago.
It was rare — less than five percent of humans developed it after the pandemic. After the revolutionary war, the numbers were higher. Too high. Eventually, they stopped treating it as an illness and started treating people like me as liabilities.
They called it Hemmorrhagis Symbiotica.
The Red Surge.
My mother wouldn't let me outside. She thought I'd collapse. Thought I'd bleed out in the street. They put me on medication — suppressants. They never worked properly. By twelve, my body began rejecting them outright.
I was almost sent to the labs. Tested. Cut apart. Like a Chimera.
Instead, I was admitted to the academy.
They said my mind was sharp. That I'd make a good tactician. Someone who could contribute without fighting.
I trained for combat anyway.
They mocked me for it. Barraged me. I kept going until I could beat the best of them. Somewhere along the way, I became one of the academy's top performers.
I turned myself into a weapon.
I don't know when it happened — when I stopped being a sick boy and became something else. A fighter. I thought my mother would be proud.
She was disgusted.
She turned away when she heard about my missions. Said what I did was cruel. Inhuman. I argued at the time.
Now I know she was right.
In trying to live a normal life, I became the very thing that ruined it.
A disease.
A parasite.
It surfaced again during the academy's collapse. I was evacuating wounded trainees when it hit. I blacked out.
When I woke up, they were all dead.
Was it my fault?
Or the parasite's?
I chose not to separate the two.
Weakness became synonymous with it. Anything that hesitated. Anything that held back. I came to believe those things deserved to die.
My friends moved on. Took positions. Found peace. I chased promotion instead. I wanted the front lines. The noise. The killing. I told myself it kept the parasite satisfied.
It always starts with tears of blood.
Then the body fails — vessels rupturing, the heart either flooding or running dry. Both end the same way.
Maybe that's why I fight the way I do. End it quickly. Don't give it time to surface.
In doing so, I reduced myself to what they always feared.
A murderer.
A machine built for killing. They call me Lieutenant, as if the title matters. My ambition became an excuse. Strategy an afterthought.
I know how this ends. They keep trying to pull me from the front. I refuse.
I was born to be killed.
So I became a killer.
***
Raiden's breathing was heavy, his hand slowly reaching to cover his mouth, blood lightly dripping down from his palm. Nishihara's eyes went soft, showing restraint.
'I haven't seen it get that bad for a while. This whole time you've been fighting it, haven't you?'
Raiden tilted his head up, swallowing back some of the blood, forcing it to stay within him as he gasped, his hand releasing his mouth.
'What concern is it to you...'
'Just looking out for a friend, I guess.'
A little smirk formed on the lieutenant's face, his eyes seemed weakened as he took a step forward, reassuring his fighting posture.
'Then show me a good fight, friend.'
Nishihara grinned, his shoulders tensed again as he got back into his stance.
'Just like in the academy...'
Their clash was instant. What sounded like a thunderclap was their weapons clashing in a harsh stalemate. The fires around them erupted more and more with each clash as they seemingly fought as equals, neither fighter gaining an upper hand for too long. Each of Raiden's swings and sweeps was either blocked or leapt over by Nishihara, every slice and cut from Nishihara was parried or dodged by Raiden. Occasionally, one fighter was land a solid hit on the either, but they just shrugged off their wounds. Their suits were working overtime, almost unable to keep up with their fighting.
After both had been injured enough, they dashed back, creating a large space between them before they both lunged their weapons over their shoulders, empowered by the suits to launch the weapons at amazing speeds. The imminent collision created a thunderous wave that pressurised the air, launching it back all around, some fires even extinguishing. The weapons flung away rapidly, being lost in the surrounding wreckages and corpses, the two lost care, however. They clenched their fists and ran to the middle, throwing all kinds of punches, kicks and grapples as they moved with impeccable precision and speed.
Amid the blur of strikes and feints, Nishihara spotted an opening - just for a split second. His fist shot through Raiden's guard, slamming into the side of his face. Raiden's head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his lips before he snarled and clenched his teeth, his eyes burning with rage. He drove his face against Nishihara's fist, forcing it back with raw strength, then launched a brutal counterpunch straight into Nishihara's cheek. The blow hurled Nishihara backward; he crashed onto his back but flipped upright just in time to duck under a vicious kick that sliced the air, grazing his tied-up hair.
Raiden twisted with relentless momentum, unleashing two more kicks. Nishihara blocked them both, his arms straining under the force, before driving a heavy, punishing blow into Raiden's ribs. A sharp crack echoed out. Raiden winced but didn't falter - he gritted through the pain and answered with a vicious hook to Nishihara's stomach, forcing a spatter of blood from his lips as he staggered back.
They entered an idol stance as they caught their breath, blood dripping from their hands and faces as their eyes pierced through each other's. Raiden fixed up his posture, straightening his back as it cracked a little, he groaned at the pain, causing Nishihara to chuckle weakly before a little blood caught in his mouth.
'You sounding a little tired there... Wanna rest up..?'
Looking up slyly, Nishihara smirked - his words were met with a solid punch to the face. He slipped slightly, wiping blood from his cheek as he gazed up to his friend.
'So no..?'
Raiden moved back, his legs limping just a little. Nishihara put his fists up again, ready to continue properly as Raiden threw the first punch.
They continued their vicious melee, dashing across the battlefield - Raiden even kicked a whole truck for Nishihara which he slid under. As they met on close-quarters again, Nishihara uppercut Raiden hard, following up with two swift guy punches and ending it with a solid forward kick, his legs propelling Raiden back into the steel wall of a half-destroyed building.
Twisting his arm, Nishihara watched Raiden limp out, not even wiping the blood from either his eyes or mouth. The parasite was killing him, weakening him - he questioned whether he would survive even if he beat Nishihara. Nishihara knew it too - he had a chance at winning.
Chapter 23- end