The ruined store smelled of ash, smoke, and rot. Its roof had caved in, leaving jagged beams and broken shelves strewn across the floor. A faint orange glow bled through the cracks where fire burned outside, but inside, shadows curled thick around them.
Chris dropped his bulk onto a splintered counter with a heavy sigh, his greatsword resting across his knees. Sweat clung to his dark skin, his afro dampened by the heat of battle, but his grin never faltered. "Well, that's one for the books, eh? First mission and we're already knee-deep in corpses." He chuckled, brushing debris from his shoulder. "Not that I mind. Makes for a better story when I tell the others."
Yuzu sat a few paces away on the cold floor, his knees pulled to his chest. His Katana leaned against the wall beside him, the blade smeared with ichor. He didn't meet Chris's eyes. His hands trembled faintly as he pressed them together, whispering into his palms as though trying to steady his breathing.
Chris nudged him with a boot. "Don't tell me you're still shaken up, kid. You did fine out there. Better than fine — you were quick, sharp. Like a little needle darting around the battlefield."
Yuzu flinched at the contact, then forced a weak laugh. "Quick, sure. But…" His eyes stayed low, staring at the dust on the floor. "Killing isn't easy, Chris. Not for me. Every time I swung, every time I struck… I couldn't stop thinking about their faces. What they might've looked like before…" He trailed off, hugging his knees tighter. "They were people once. Families. Friends. And now they're just—" His voice cracked. "Gone."
For a moment, silence pressed down heavy.
Chris leaned back against the counter, expression shifting. He scratched the back of his neck, looking oddly uncomfortable. "Yeah… guess you're right. It ain't pretty when you think about it that way." His grin faded, replaced with a tight frown. "But for me? Every fight's a chance to prove something. To show I belong here, you know? To show them all that I'm worth keeping around." His voice dipped quieter, almost swallowed by the crackle of fire outside. "If I can't do that, then… what's the point?"
Neither of them looked at Viktor.
He sat apart, back against a half-collapsed wall, one dagger resting across his knee. His hands moved in calm, precise motions, cleaning away the black ichor with a torn scrap of cloth. No wasted movement, no hesitation — the same cold efficiency he had shown in battle.
His gaze lingered on the blade longer than necessary. In the faint light, his reflection stared back at him — sharp eyes, pale skin smudged with ash and blood. The face felt like his, and yet not. The longer he stared, the more it unsettled him. Something in the steel seemed to whisper familiarity, as if he had done this exact thing countless times before.
A memory clawed at the back of his skull — the same calm hands cleaning a weapon, the same reflection staring back, but with voices around him. Voices that weren't Chris's or Yuzu's, yet carried the same weight of camaraderie.
He blinked and the image was gone.
Viktor exhaled slowly and sheathed the dagger. His voice was steady, though it carried a gravity neither of the others could ignore. "It's not supposed to be easy. Killing shouldn't ever be. But hesitation kills faster than a blade. You did well, Yuzu. You're still here and that's what matters."
Yuzu looked up, wide-eyed, at the words. Chris glanced at Viktor too, as if surprised he had spoken at all.
Viktor leaned back, resting his head against the broken wall. "As for proving yourself… that comes naturally. You fight. You survive. That's proof enough."
Chris blinked, then laughed softly, though it lacked its usual bravado. "Huh. Guess the quiet guy's got wisdom after all."
Yuzu managed a small nod, his trembling easing just a little.
Outside, the ruined city groaned under the weight of fire and smoke. Inside, the three of them lingered in uneasy silence — each carrying their own doubts, their own burdens. But without realizing it, they had already begun to lean into Viktor's calm presence.
The simulation's light flickered faintly across the dark room. The hum of its machinery droned on, steady and cold, but the tension inside was anything but.
Yuzu, seated against the wall near the observation deck, groaned low, clutching his head with both hands. His breath came sharp and ragged, sweat running down his temples as if something was clawing its way out of his skull. "Ngh—!" His teeth grit as he pressed his palms harder into his head, shaking.
Mobius watched flatly, her chin resting in one hand, as if the boy's suffering was little more than a mild curiosity. Finally, she tilted her head and muttered, "Fascinating. What kind of memory wiping did you people even do? To make someone break apart just watching their own reflection?"
Otto, standing stiff and pale near the console, turned sharply toward her, eyes narrowing. His tone was clipped, defensive. "Not everyone can boast your genius, Doctor. Some of us… had to work with what was possible."
Mobius chuckled softly, low and cruel. "Oh, you wound me, Otto. But I suppose incompetence always shows its cracks sooner or later."
The words stung, but Otto said nothing further, instead fixing his eyes on the screen.
Eden hadn't looked away from it at all. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her chest, fingers laced as though in prayer, but her lips moved with a quiet tremor. "…Oh, Viktor…" she whispered, sorrow threaded through each syllable. Her eyes softened as the faint image of his conflicted expression filled the screen. "Afraid… and yet still moving forward."
Chris stepped closer, his normally easy grin absent, replaced with something more grim and certain. He placed a steadying hand on Eden's shoulder. "This is what we need," he said, voice low but sure. "What the world needs… what he needs."
Eden didn't answer. She only held tighter to her hands, gaze never leaving Viktor.
The heavy air broke when the chamber doors hissed open. A bright voice spilled in before the girl herself did.
"Hey! I'm back—" Kiana's words faltered mid-step as her red-rimmed eyes landed on Yuzu. He was shaking, bent forward, groaning into his palms. "H-Hey, Yuzu!?"
In an instant, she was at his side, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands hovered uncertainly before settling on his arm, shaking him gently. "What's wrong? Are you—no, don't answer, just breathe, okay? Just breathe!" Her voice was panicked but desperate to be helpful, the tears she hadn't quite wiped away clinging stubbornly to her cheeks.
The room held its silence for her, the hum of the simulation loud in its place.
Then Mei walked in, her heels clicking softly against the floor. Her eyes darted to Yuzu first, widening in shock, but they drifted soon to the screen. She stopped dead in her tracks. The color drained slightly from her face as she took in the sight—the boy she knew, the Viktor she had only ever seen as distant and cold, now standing shoulder to shoulder with younger versions of Yuzu and Chris.
Her voice caught in her throat before she managed, "...This… this simulation. It isn't…" She turned toward Mobius, her expression wavering somewhere between horror and demand. "Is it the same as what Kiana just faced?"
Mobius, for once, didn't smirk. She only folded her arms and gave a single, quiet nod.
The implications thickened the air until it was hard to breathe. Mei's lips parted, trembling, as her eyes returned to the screen. The child, the soldier, the shadow. The reflection of a man who seemed at once known and utterly alien.
Mobius leaned closer, her voice a whisper but heavy as a stone dropped in still water. "…This is the origin of the man you believe in. Will you be able to look him in the eyes after this, I wonder?"