Inside the S.A.O. communication and command center, dimly lit corridors stretched on, lined with armed guards. The atmosphere felt heavy, oppressive. Despite the heat outside, the air here was cold, seeping into skin.
The guards' heartbeats climbed with every passing second as the elevator indicator rose.
1… 2… 3… 4…
TING!
The elevator stopped. A green light flickered to life. The guards tightened their grips on their weapons, sweat beading on their foreheads as the pressure in the corridor thickened.
The elevator doors slid open.
The siblings stood there.
Before the guards could react, a shadowy blur tore through the corridor. Movement so fast it barely existed. In an instant, heads burst apart one after another, blood splattering across the walls and floor.
Silence followed.
Mike stood behind the few remaining guards, his metal baseball bat resting on his shoulder. Blood dripped slowly from its tip, tapping softly against the floor.
[Sister] Aki smiled.
"Now look… who's going brutal."
[Brother] Mike returned the smile, teasing.
"Leave this floor to me. Go to the next one. If you can't handle it, call me."
Aki scowled, irritation flashing across her face.
"I won't call you!" she snapped.
She pressed the button. The elevator doors slid shut, and the indicator began to rise once more.
The remaining guards stood frozen in the corridor—alive, yet unable to move. Terror locked their bodies in place as they stared ahead, forced to witness what came next.
As the massacre inside the building continued, screams filled the air—some sharp and high, others low and breaking.
Somewhere else in the city, inside a marketplace restaurant, the atmosphere was peaceful. Couples, families, and lone diners enjoyed their meals. A red carpet stretched across the floor, concrete walls painted sky blue. The interior decorations gave the place a festive warmth. Laughter and quiet conversation blended together as people sat at their respective tables.
Then—
BOOM!
The wall behind an empty table exploded. Smoke and dust flooded the room. Plates shattered, chairs scraped back. Some customers froze in shock, others stared in confusion—but no one dared to move.
As the dust cleared, two figures stood revealed.
Hikaru and Deva.
Hikaru stood near the shattered wall, breathing heavily. His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges, but he forced himself upright. The broken concrete behind him spoke of the strength he still possessed.
Deva sat on the floor a few inches away, debris scattered around him. Blood ran from his nose—evidence of the brutal punch Hikaru had landed.
But it wasn't enough.
Deva looked up calmly, unfazed, as if the damage meant nothing at all.
Hikaru's thoughts tightened around his chest. For the first time, his voice rose as he shouted at Deva,
"WHY DON'T YOU GIVE UP!"
Silence fell for a split second, heavy and suffocating.
Then Deva spoke, his voice calm, though pain burned clearly in his eyes.
"You know why… let me tell you." He paused. "I have nothing except my little sister. I need money—for her schooling, her clothes, her food… everything she needs. She doesn't know any of this."
His grip tightened. "I don't have a proper education. No one ever gave me work. My life was a waste. But I won't let my little sister become a waste like me."
For a moment, Hikaru's heart wavered.
But this was a fight to the death. Only one of them would walk away.
Deva rose, something new burning inside him. He stood tall before Hikaru, resolves hardening his gaze. Neither of them could give up now.
Both had someone they needed to protect.
The customers, the staff—everyone inside the restaurant felt it.
The pressure.
The strength those two men held.
Fear froze the room. No one moved. No one breathed. They stared blankly at the two inhumanly capable figures as the silence grew heavier by the second.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sharp sound cut straight through the terror.
Everyone turned.
A man sat casually on a chair, dressed in black formal wear with a long black overcoat.
It was Kio.
He continued clapping, a wide smile stretched across his face.
"I never got this emotional before," he said, dabbing at imaginary tears with a napkin. "What a story."
Hikaru stared at him, confused.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Kio replied in his usual carefree, mischievous tone.
"Oh, come on. I'm human too. I get hungry, you know. I just came here to throw a little party for my stomach"
Before Hikaru could process anything further, his eyes widened.
A blur surged toward his face.
Deva had already moved.
The guitar swung horizontally, aimed straight at Hikaru's head—
—but the impact never came.
The swing completed, yet the guitar split apart mid-motion, cleanly severed into pieces, as if sliced by an invisible blade. The fragments clattered to the floor.
Kio was suddenly there.
Crouched low on a nearby table beside Hikaru and Deva, combat daggers held firmly in each hand.
A sharp pain tore through Deva's wrist.
In the next instant, blood burst out under pressure, splashing across the floor in dark red arcs. His severed hand slid free, falling smoothly to the ground as if detached without resistance.
Rage surged through Deva's mind.
Before he could react—
A metallic flash filled his vision.
His head split cleanly away from his body, spinning briefly through the air before striking the floor with a dull, final thud. The rest of his body remained standing for a moment—motionless, empty—before death fully claimed it.
Kio stood behind the headless corpse.
He placed one hand against Deva's back and pushed lightly.
The body collapsed forward, blood pouring from the neck and spreading across the floor.
The terror inside the restaurant finally broke.
People screamed and ran in every direction. Some stumbled and fell, others gagged and vomited as panic consumed the room. Chairs overturned, plates shattered, and the peaceful space dissolved into chaos.
Hikaru couldn't hold himself anymore. The strength left his body, and before he could fully lose consciousness, his knees gave in and he collapsed to the floor.
Kio stood in front of him, watching.
A faint smile rested on his face. The daggers were gone, as if they had never been there at all.