The hall stretched endlessly, cold and silent except for the faint hum of broken lights flickering above. Every few steps, the bulbs crackled like whispers of something that once lived there. Alia's breathing echoed faintly, her crimson butterfly mark faintly glowing on her neck, reacting to the faint traces of Rim energy in the air.
Beside her, Billish walked steadily — her hands deep in her pockets, a small metallic sound ringing every few steps. The wrench at her belt clicked against her tools, an odd comfort in this suffocating place.
"Nothing's here…" Alia whispered, her tone low. "This hallway feels like a grave."
Billish didn't answer, eyes scanning ahead. Her instincts screamed trap, but they had no other path to follow. Then, suddenly—
A shadow moved.
A soft click of claws echoed. Then a faint crimson glow emerged from the darkness ahead, like blood shining under moonlight.
A figure stepped out — slender, poised, the motion so fluid it was more animal than human. Long white hair spilled over her shoulders, and her black claws shimmered faintly under the broken light. Her eyes, sharp and golden, locked onto Billish.
"It's been a while… hasn't it?"
Her voice was playful, almost teasing — but every syllable carried enough pressure to make Alia step back instinctively.
Billish's smirk twitched into place. "Kiyara," she said quietly. "Regan No. 9. So you're the one they sent."
Kiyara tilted her head, claws flexing with a scraping sound. "You make it sound like I'm some errand girl. You're stealing from my home, Billish. Did you really think I'd let you just walk out?"
Her tone dropped to a growl at the end, feral and filled with glee.
Billish took out a small wrench from her pocket, spun it once, and with a click — it expanded into her full mechanical wrench, glowing faintly blue with compressed Rim energy. "Stealing?" she said, narrowing her eyes. "Funny, last time I checked, your home was built over corpses. I'm just taking back what doesn't belong to you."
Kiyara's smile widened, revealing her sharpened canines. "Still talkative as ever."
"Still annoying as ever," Billish shot back. Then she turned to Alia, voice low but firm.
"Stay behind me. Go to that corner. If this goes wrong, don't even think about helping. You'll just get killed."
"But—" Alia started.
Before she could finish, Kiyara moved — a blur of speed, faster than Alia's eyes could follow. Her claw flashed once across Billish's cheek. The sound of tearing skin followed. Blood splattered against the wall.
Billish staggered slightly, hand touching her bleeding cheek. The red smeared across her glove. Her eyes narrowed, anger flashing briefly. "Fast," she muttered. "Too fast."
Using that moment, Alia clenched her fists. Now or never.
She darted past them both, dragging Kaito's unconscious body with her. Her crimson butterfly mark pulsed, and in the next instant, scarlet wings spread behind her — energy shaping into dozens of luminous butterflies.
"Sorry, Billish," she whispered. "But I'm not dying here."
The butterflies exploded outward — BOOM—BOOM—BOOM! — bursting into flashes of red smoke and shards of light that blinded the hallway. The air filled with metallic dust and heat, burning the edges of Kiyara's senses for a moment.
Through the haze, Alia ran — pulling Kaito along, her lungs burning, her legs trembling from fatigue. She could hear Billish shout something behind her, but the words were drowned in the chaos.
---
Back at the fight
Billish's wrench clanged against Kiyara's claws. Sparks flew. Billish swung again, heavier this time, aiming for the ribs — but Kiyara caught the wrench mid-swing with her bare hand, claws digging into the metal like it was clay.
"It's not very nice," Kiyara said, voice low, "trying to run away from a duel, is it?"
Her golden eyes reflected the red smoke fading away, showing Billish's frustrated face.
Billish smirked despite the cut across her cheek. "You always talk too much before a fight."
She twisted the wrench — and the energy inside it flared, sending a shockwave that forced Kiyara to leap backward, her claws smoking slightly.
---
Scene Change — The Regan Prison
A loud metallic clang echoed as the doors slammed shut. The place smelled of rust, oil, and something chemical. The faint hum of machines ran through the walls like veins of an unseen beast.
Michael and Andreo fell onto the hard floor — bruised, exhausted, and stripped of their gear. Their wrists were bound by dark cuffs pulsing faint black energy.
From outside the bars, Mark's laugh echoed — harsh and mocking.
"That's what you get for coming here, bastards."
Maria stood beside him, her arms crossed, eyes cold and unreadable. "You didn't do anything, Mark," she said flatly. "I handled the fight. You just watched."
Mark frowned, but said nothing, too prideful to argue.
Maria turned back to the cell. "These walls are laced with Vantablack suckers. They absorb Rim energy. Don't even try to use your abilities. You'll just pass out faster."
Her tone wasn't cruel — just factual, like a scientist stating an experiment result. "You two are staying here until we decide what to do with you."
As they walked away, the heavy door closed again, sealing the silence.
Michael sat against the wall, exhaling slowly. The cuffs around his wrists hummed faintly.
Across from him, Andreo groaned, rubbing his head against the cold metal floor.
"Bro," Andreo said quietly. "Why did you surrender? We could've come up with something. Some trick, some plan—"
Michael gave a small, tired chuckle. "What trick, Andreo?" His voice was hoarse but calm. "You saw her, didn't you? That wasn't a person. That was a monster."
Andreo frowned. "You mean Maria?"
"Yeah." Michael stared at the faint red light above their cell. "Her nails alone could pierce titanium. Her Rim density is off the charts. Even if we'd escaped, she would've found us within minutes."
Andreo looked down, frustration tightening his jaw. "Then what now? We rot here?"
Michael tilted his head back, staring at the dark ceiling. "No. I'm betting on something else."
Andreo blinked. "What do you mean?"
Michael's lips curled into a faint, tired smile. "I don't know if it's faith or stupidity… but I believe we'll get saved. Either by 56… or Kuro."
"Kuro?" Andreo frowned. "That guy's unpredictable. You really think he'd come back?"
Michael's eyes stayed on the ceiling. "He doesn't need to care about us. But he hates losing. And he hates leaving loose ends. If we're alive, we're leverage. And that makes us his problem."
Andreo was silent for a moment, then gave a weak laugh. "Guess we're betting our lives on a psycho."
Michael smirked faintly. "That psycho might be our only shot."
---
The sound of metal striking concrete echoed in the half-destroyed ward. A crimson haze filled the air — Alane's domain still pulsed faintly, the blood particles swirling like a storm of red mist. The walls, once white, were now painted with smears of dried blood and fractured glass.
Alane stood in the center, breathing steadily, his crimson sword humming with power. Across from him stood 56 — or rather, the man once known as Guren. His mask had been shattered earlier, and the faint blue glow from his sword reflected against his sharp eyes.
For a long moment, neither moved. The sound of the air conditioner's broken hum was the only noise between them. Then Alane finally spoke.
"Tell me," he said, raising his sword slightly. "What's your real name?"
Guren tilted his head, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. His lips curved slightly — not a smile, but the ghost of one. "My real name?" he repeated. "Guren."
The name lingered in the air, heavy with recognition. Alane's brows lifted slightly. "Guren… I've heard that name somewhere before. The traitor who vanished after the Eclipse Project." His lips curled upward. "So it was you."
Guren didn't respond, only tightened his grip on the blue sword, his hand trembling slightly from the loss of blood. The veins on his neck pulsed faintly — his skin pale, sweat mixing with streaks of crimson running down his side.
Alane sighed softly, the tone almost sympathetic. "You've fought well. But it's over now. Your blood's drying out. Your body's shutting down. There's nothing you can do."
He raised his sword, the crimson glow intensifying.
"Submit yourself to me, Guren. I'll give you a painless death."
Guren didn't move.
Instead, his expression changed. The sharpness in his eyes softened into something unreadable — an odd calm. Then, without warning, he turned away from Alane.
"What are you—?" Alane frowned, confused.
Guren staggered toward the corner of the room — toward the medical bed where Kaito lay unconscious, hooked up to tubes and old machinery. His movements were slow, heavy, but deliberate. Alane's instincts screamed, but his curiosity stopped him from intervening.
Guren reached the bed, looked down at Kaito's face — pale, silent, unaware of the chaos around him — and muttered something under his breath.
"…Sorry, kid."
Then he grabbed one of the old medical tubes attached to a half-broken injector and plunged it into his own arm.
The liquid inside was faintly red — not pure blood, but a mixture of plasma, Rim compounds, and stabilizing chemicals. Guren winced as it entered his veins, his body shaking violently, but he didn't stop.
The monitors beeped erratically, lights flickering. The veins on his arm bulged, and his breathing turned ragged — yet his body slowly steadied. His skin regained faint color. His eyes glowed faint blue once more.
Alane watched in silence, then chuckled softly. "Are you sure you're not committing suicide by taking someone else's blood?"
Guren pulled the tube out, the puncture sealing with a faint blue flash. He turned around, his face calm again. "Don't underestimate me," he said coldly. "I'm the reason that boy even has Eclipse powers in the first place."
That sentence made Alane's smile falter. "…What?"
His eyes gleamed sharply. "Your arrival was the only thing unexpected."
He lifted his sword again — the blue glow roaring brighter, crackling like static lightning. "And for the record… his blood type and mine are the same."
Alane's eyes widened briefly. "Then—"
"Yeah." Guren smirked faintly. "Thanks to this 'turbo pumper,' I've got myself some blood back."
He stepped forward, tightening his grip on the hilt. "Now… let's begin again."
The floor beneath them trembled as the two clashed — crimson and blue collided, forming a flash of light that burned the walls around them. Sparks scattered through the air. The shockwave shattered glass panels and blew debris aside.
The two figures blurred — one red, one blue — crossing the narrow room faster than the human eye could follow.
---
Alane's POV
This is bad.
He parried another strike — Guren's sword whistled past his ear, close enough to slice through a few strands of his hair. Alane's crimson aura flared, forcing Guren back, but the blue energy immediately followed through, slashing the ground apart.
His thoughts raced even as his blade moved instinctively.
If I stay inside my domain too long… five minutes at most… it starts draining my blood too. The ritual binds to all living things in the area — I'm no exception.
He glanced at Guren's stance. The man's movements were sharper now, more refined, but there was something off — an instability, like a flame burning too hard.
He's running on stolen blood. That can't last long. But if I make a mistake before that—
He ducked under another swing, feeling the blue energy scrape across his shoulder armor. The heat bit into his skin.
—I die first.
---
Back to Neutral POV
The battle tore the lab apart. Equipment exploded, sparks flew, and the ground cracked under their feet. Every swing left trails of red and blue that cut through the thick smoke like streaks of lightning.
Alane leapt back, his sword raised. Guren followed — relentless, eyes burning. The blue glow from his blade seemed alive, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Alane deflected a downward strike, their blades locking. Sparks hissed between them.
"You're running out of time," Alane hissed. "Even if you stand now, your body's falling apart from inside."
Guren smiled faintly — but it wasn't defiance. It was something colder. "Maybe. But I only need one of us to fall."
Before Alane could reply, Guren twisted his wrist — the clash broke. He spun, stepping back several meters. His eyes flicked toward the side, toward the crates stacked near the wall — boxes filled with labeled medical chemicals, the kind used for regeneration or Rim control therapy.
Without hesitation, he reached for a handful of vials, flicked them open, and hurled them forward.
The glass shattered midair.
SSSSHHHHHH—
White mist and green vapor burst out, filling the air with a stinging odor. The chemicals mixed with the blood domain, reacting violently — small pops of red sparks flickering like fireflies.
Alane instinctively stepped back, covering his face with his arm. The fumes clawed at his nose, burning. His mind screamed a warning. Unknown compounds… damn it!
That single moment of hesitation — that single second — was all Guren needed.
When Alane's vision cleared, Guren was gone.
A faint whisper of movement behind him made his instincts flare — but too late.
A searing pain tore across his back.
SHRKKKK!
Alane stumbled forward, eyes wide. He turned slightly, blood dripping down his coat. Guren stood behind him, sword outstretched, the tip gleaming with Alane's blood.
The cut wasn't deep enough to kill — but it hurt. It was precise, surgical. A statement.
Guren's breathing was heavy, but his gaze was sharp. "Next one," he said quietly, "won't be this shallow."
Alane exhaled slowly, clutching his side. His crimson domain pulsed irregularly, the red haze flickering weakly as his blood loss increased.
He turned his head slightly, smirking despite the pain. "You're not bad," he admitted. "But this… this won't be enough to stop me."
Guren tilted his head. "We'll see."
The room was silent again — except for the faint dripping of blood, and the hum of both blades.
The crimson domain tightened, swirling around them again as the two combatants readied their next charge. The smell of iron filled the air — two predators, locked in a shrinking cage of their own blood.
And in that suffocating silence, Alane's thoughts whispered like an echo through his own skull:
Three minutes left.
---
The corridors stretched endlessly, the sound of Alia's hurried footsteps echoing against the cold, steel walls. Her breath came out ragged and shallow, the faint shimmer of crimson energy still surrounding her body. She'd used too much Rim. The air itself felt heavy, like it was crushing her chest every time she inhaled.
Kaito's weight on her shoulder made her stumble once, but she didn't stop. Not until she reached the abandoned treatment bay—an empty, dimly lit room with shattered capsules and broken tubes lying everywhere like veins ripped from the earth.
She gently laid Kaito against the cracked wall, the faint hum of machines flickering on and off around them. Her hands trembled, covered in dust and dried blood. Then she slumped beside him, her vision swimming.
"Just… a little break…" she whispered, closing her eyes.
The silence lasted only two minutes.
A small groan escaped Kaito's lips, and his eyes slowly opened. The familiar cold glint in his pale gray irises immediately pierced through the dark.
"Alia…" he muttered weakly, his voice hoarse. "Where… is Alexander? And Kuro?"
Alia's tired eyes snapped open. She turned to him and forced a small, reassuring smile. "I don't know, Kaito. But it doesn't matter right now. I got you out. That's what's important. Arthur's plan was to scatter us so we'd have a better chance of surviving. If luck's on our side, they've escaped too."
She reached to help him sit up. "For now, we should focus on getting out of this place. The third-party attackers already broke the system here. We can't risk another encounter."
But Kaito didn't respond. He looked down at his trembling hands — the faint traces of dark aura flickering around them, almost like smoke.
"No, Alia…" he said finally, his tone grave. "I can't do that."
Her chest tightened. "What are you saying?"
Kaito stood slowly, his movements unsteady but filled with intent. "There's something I have to do… something I need to do."
Alia frowned. "Kaito, this isn't the time for—"
"It is the time," he interrupted sharply. "As long as Alexander and Kuro are alive, I'll never be free. They'll hunt me again, drag me back, make me their experiment all over again. Even if I try to live peacefully… they won't let me."
He looked up, eyes burning with black determination. "So I'll end it. Right now."
His body began to radiate that same consuming black aura—stronger, darker, more alive than before. It pulsed, spreading across the ground like a storm ready to devour everything.
"Kaito…" Alia's voice shook. "Please don't go. You'll lose yourself again!"
He turned toward her, and for a fleeting second, she saw both the boy she knew and the monster he'd become. His gaze was steady, cold, but deeply human.
"No, Alia," he said softly. "I've lost myself again and again. But this time… I'm taking myself back."
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he stepped forward—ten steps into the darkness ahead. The air around him warped, shadows bending and crawling toward his form as though drawn to his resolve.
And then—
A low chuckle echoed from the far end of the hall.
From the darkness emerged a figure — half-naked, his torso scarred and pale, eyes glowing faintly with golden light. Only a tattered pair of pants clung to his form. His hair hung in loose, uneven strands, and his grin carried pure madness.
"It's been a while since I inhaled the air," the boy said, stretching his neck with a crack. "Time to go on a rampage."
Alia froze. She didn't recognize him. But the air around him—thick, violent, distorted—was unmistakably that of another experiment.
The shadows flickered violently, the dim lights overhead trembling before bursting completely, plunging the entire hallway into darkness.
Kaito stepped forward, his aura clashing against the stranger's. The floor vibrated under the pressure of their power, and Alia instinctively backed away, her instincts screaming that this was no ordinary fight.
---
Scene Change — Underground Ventilation Ducts
Arthur's palms were scraped raw from crawling through the tight metal duct. The sound of air rushing past the grates echoed like whispers in a tomb. Beside him, Kaito's father—his expression grave, his breaths steady—followed closely behind.
The space was barely wide enough for them to crawl. Every creak of the metal made Arthur flinch.
"Uncle," Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible over the faint hum of machinery. "We need to head where Kaito is. If we can find Alia and regroup, we can still make it out of here."
Kaito's father gave a slow nod. His face was grim, his eyes hollowed with worry but filled with resolve. "Yes. If they're alive, we'll find them. Stay quiet, Arthur."
They crawled forward, the light from the grates flashing intermittently. Occasionally, Arthur could hear distant sounds—shouts, explosions, and the low rumble of something monstrous.
Every sound made his heart pound harder.
---
Scene Change — The Bloodied Chamber
Elsewhere, in a large containment hall now filled with smoke and blood, Alexander stood leaning on wall. His breathing was shallow, his body trembling, his leg torn open from a deep wound that refused to close. Rim flickered weakly around him—like embers struggling to survive.
Rose approached slowly, her twin knives gleaming crimson in the faint light. Beside her, Tina and Louis stood ready, circling like wolves.
Alexander's grip tightened. His vision blurred. His mind was a haze of pain and resignation.
"So this is it," he muttered, exhaling sharply. "I guess… it's time for me to die."
Rose smirked faintly, her steps light as she closed in. "You've caused enough destruction for one life, Alexander. Time to end this."
Her blades flashed.
But before they could touch him—
A voice, smooth and chillingly feminine, echoed behind him.
"Touch him… and suffer the consequences."
The air froze.
The lights shattered.
The entire chamber was swallowed by darkness.
Rose's instincts screamed danger—the kind she hadn't felt even during her years of battle. She pulled back instantly, her blades raised defensively.
"What was that!?" Tina hissed, eyes darting around.
"I… I can't see anything!" Louis's voice trembled.
A faint glow—pale and violet—illuminated the area just enough for them to see a silhouette emerging behind Alexander. Long hair cascading like ink. Eyes burning like two moons. The aura alone felt suffocating.
Rose gritted her teeth, stepping back. "Looks like… we're in trouble."
Alexander, barely conscious, managed a broken smile. "You came… huh?"
The figure said nothing—only stood between him and the others like a shadow given form, her gaze promising death.
---
Meanwhile — Back with Alia and Kaito
The two opposing auras clashed violently, shaking the very ground beneath them. The half-naked boy grinned wider, veins bulging as he inhaled deeply.
Kaito's aura flared darker.
Every breath Alia took burned her lungs. She could only watch, helpless, as the two forces collided—darkness and chaos intertwining like a nightmare that refused to end.
"Don't die on me… Kaito," she whispered.
But deep down, she knew—
This was no longer the same Kaito she had once known.
This was the beginning of something far darker.
And somewhere in the darkness beyond, another presence stirred—watching. Waiting.
The pieces were beginning to move again.
The world of Eclipse Flames was about to burn brighter—and bloodier—than ever.