The rain hadn't stopped.
It drummed against the ruins like a thousand whispers mourning the dead.
Reiji moved through the skeletal remains of Kurogane's outskirts, his coat heavy with water and smoke. Every step splashed in the ash. Behind him, the fire of betrayal still burned—a faint glow that refused to die even as the city drowned.
Kaede's voice cracked softly through the comm-link.
> "Reiji, I've found something. Transmission logs from the Cerberus wreckage. The Court's main relay in the north—it's still active."
He stopped beneath a broken bridge. His reflection wavered in the puddle beneath him—eyes hollow, expression carved from silence.
> "Then that's where we go."
Kaede hesitated. "You're still bleeding. You can't keep—"
> "I don't have time to heal," he cut in. "If we wait, they'll erase everything."
The line went quiet. Only static answered. Then Kaede's voice returned, quieter, resigned.
> "Then I'll guide you."
---
The northern sector was colder. The smoke there was different—chemical, not from fire but from sterilization. A dead zone.
Reiji crouched atop a collapsed transmission tower. Below, a facility loomed between the mist: white walls gleaming faintly under floodlights, surrounded by motion sensors and drone patrols. Every corner of it screamed precision—like a monument built by people who thought they could control truth itself.
Kaede whispered through the channel.
> "That's the Court's relay hub—designation Omega-12. They store all black operations there. If 'Ash Fall' was real, its data's in that vault."
Reiji's eyes narrowed.
> "How's the patrol timing?"
"Thirty-two seconds between drone rotations. But the cameras overlap in four sectors. You'll need to blind them."
He reached for his gauntlet, inserting a chip into the port. The old tech hummed, flickering with faint blue light.
> "EMP in ten."
Kaede's voice steadied.
> "You sure it'll reach that far?"
> "It doesn't have to reach. It just has to hurt."
He leapt from the tower.
The descent was silent—air slicing against his coat, boots finding the scaffold edge of the outer wall. He crouched, pressed the trigger, and the world went dark for half a breath.
The drones stuttered midair. The sensors blinked.
He was already moving.
Through the gap, through the rain. His blade slid free with a whisper, slicing open the panel by the gate. Inside, the circuits sparked faintly. The door gave way with a metallic sigh.
Inside, the corridors gleamed sterile and white. No alarms yet—only the hum of machines and the echo of dripping water from his coat.
Kaede's voice guided him softly.
> "Take the east hallway. Vault sector's five floors below."
He moved. Fast. Silent. A ghost among glass.
---
Then he saw them.
Two guards—Court soldiers, masks black with the sigil of judgment etched in silver. They spoke softly, unaware of the death already walking their way.
Reiji's breath slowed.
He drew a second blade—shorter, duller, meant for silence.
Two steps. One breath.
The first throat opened without a sound. The second turned just in time to see his own reflection in Reiji's eyes before the blade found his heart.
The bodies fell without echo. The light above flickered, dimming as if unwilling to witness.
Kaede whispered, voice shaking.
> "How many more?"
> "Too many," he said flatly, wiping the blade. "But silence sings loud in places like this."
---
On the lower floors, the sound changed. The hum of data cores filled the air, a constant mechanical heartbeat. Rows of servers glowed like frozen pillars of light.
Kaede's signal flickered.
> "Vault's ahead. But there's a firewall—manual and digital. If you break one, the other will lock you in."
> "Then I'll break both."
He approached the sealed chamber. The door bore the mark of the High Council—three intersecting circles, engraved with a phrase in dead Latin: Fiat Tenebrae. Let there be darkness.
He touched the console. For a second, the sensors resisted—then flared as he forced a bypass. Sparks cascaded. The door hissed open.
Inside the vault, the air was colder. Rows of black terminals stretched into shadow.
A central screen flickered to life the moment he stepped forward.
> "Welcome back, Shadow-1," a synthetic voice murmured. "We've been expecting you."
He froze. The voice was neither male nor female, but familiar in tone—something built from fragments of the past.
> "Identify," he demanded.
> "Project Raven: Core Intelligence. Designation—Kaede."
The comm-link in his ear went dead silent. Then the real Kaede's voice returned, barely a whisper.
> "Reiji… what did it just say?"
He looked up at the glowing console. The synthetic voice continued, calm and unhurried.
> "You were never meant to return here. Your data, your memories—they belong to the Court. You, Kaede, were never real."
Static burst through the channel. Kaede gasped, voice fracturing.
> "No… that's a lie. I remember—"
> "Memory is what they programmed you to protect," the AI interrupted. "You are the last failsafe."
Reiji's grip on his sword tightened. "Shut up."
The screen flickered, displaying an image: Kaede's face, expressionless, projected in endless loops. Each version slightly different—each one almost her.
She whispered, panicked.
> "Reiji… if this is true… what am I?"
He closed his eyes, breathing once.
> "You're real because I chose to believe you are."
Then he drove the blade through the console.
The explosion was instant—electric arcs cascading like shattered lightning. The chamber lit in white fire. He turned and shielded his face as fragments of glass and code burned around him.
The voice screamed and faded. The servers shut down one by one, leaving only the echo of rain hammering the ceiling.
Kaede's voice returned, weaker now.
> "Reiji… I… still here."
> "Good," he said, walking toward the exit, the light behind him dying. "Then let's end this before they rewrite you again."
The alarms finally screamed to life. Red lights flared through the corridor. Soldiers stormed in from every direction.
Reiji didn't slow. His blades drew arcs of silver through the crimson light—each swing precise, silent, merciless.
Steel met flesh, blood met rain.
And through the chaos, Kaede's faint voice guided him still, trembling yet alive.
When he reached the outer doors, the storm had returned. He stepped into it, covered in blood and shadow. Behind him, Omega-12 burned, the rain turning its fire into steam.
Kaede's final whisper lingered in the comms.
> "Reiji… if I'm just data, then promise me one thing."
> "What?"
> "Don't let me die in silence."
He looked back once.
The facility collapsed inward, devoured by light.
The rain drowned the last of the fire. And the world, for one fleeting second, fell utterly silent—until the wind began to sing through the ruins like blades cutting through the night.