Ten minutes ago…
A thick silence stretched through the lower containment sector of the facility — a silence that felt heavier than air itself. Rows of cylindrical pods lined both sides of the long steel corridor, each filled with pale blue liquid that pulsed faintly under the dim emergency lights.
Among them, two capsules stood out. One labeled "Sofia Marx – Subject 27A", and the other beside it, "Carl Marx – Subject 27B."
Both containers hissed quietly as frost cracked down their transparent surfaces.
Inside, two figures floated motionless — one male, one female — their expressions calm, almost lifeless. Until the faint flicker of the facility's backup generator hummed through the floor.
Then, click.
The digital lock on Carl's capsule blinked green.
A low hum echoed, and the fluid inside began to drain rapidly. Carl's eyelids twitched, his muscles tensed, and a deep breath ripped from his lungs as if he had been suffocating for years. The capsule door opened, steam flowing out like a ghostly mist.
He stepped out, bare-chested, wearing only the issued experiment pants. The metallic floor felt like ice under his feet. His eyes — a faint silver-grey — slowly adjusted to the flickering light.
He flexed his hands, veins faintly visible.
"…Finally," he muttered, his voice raw, almost dry from disuse. "Sis, we're out."
The capsule beside him clicked open as well, and from it stepped Sofia Marx — slightly shorter, lean and graceful, with shoulder-length dark grey hair that glimmered faintly in the light. Her beauty was haunting, but her eyes were calm — calculating. She wrapped the thin experiment sheet around herself like a cloak.
"Don't get excited, Carl," she said quietly, scanning the hallway. "There's no one here. That doesn't mean we're safe. We've been locked for months. Anything could've changed."
Carl grinned faintly. "Still sounds better than rotting in a capsule."
They both stepped forward, bare footsteps echoing down the hallway lined with shattered bulbs and flickering wires.
As they walked, Sofia's eyes darted to the walls — no guards, no security drones, no lights from the control panels. The place was dead silent. That alone made her uneasy.
"What do you think happened?" Carl asked, brushing his silver hair back.
Sofia's lips thinned. "If I had to guess — containment breach. Or maybe someone wiped the place. Either way, we're leaving. Quietly."
They turned a corner — the corridor split in two. The air smelled faintly of ozone and burnt metal. Sofia crouched, touching the floor. Blood. Dried and smeared. Not old.
Before she could speak, they both froze — footsteps.
Light, deliberate, echoing softly from the far end of the hall.
Carl turned toward the sound, the grin returning to his face.
"Someone's coming."
Sofia's tone sharpened. "Hide. Now."
Carl didn't move. His eyes narrowed. "What if they already know we're awake? What if this is bait?"
Before Sofia could argue, he took a step forward into the open, his voice echoing through the silent hall.
"Hey! Whoever you are — come out."
The sound of footsteps stopped.
From the corner of the dark corridor, Kaito emerged — his black coat torn, his hair disheveled, eyes sharp and cold. Behind him, Alia followed, breathing heavily, her hand slightly trembling after exhausting her Rim to get them this far.
Kaito's gaze instantly locked on the two figures. His instincts flared — the faint aura of containment fluid, the look of the underground sector — he knew what these two were.
Carl tilted his head, looking at Kaito.
A faint smirk crossed his lips. "Looks like the outside's changed. Didn't think we'd meet someone this soon."
Kaito didn't answer. His tone was sharp, commanding — edged with the remnants of fury he hadn't yet unleashed.
"Out of the way."
The air between them grew heavy.
Alia stepped forward quickly, her voice low, cautious. "Kaito, wait. They might be from Fern… we can't just—"
Kaito's voice cut through hers, colder than steel.
"I said. Move."
Sofia blinked, her brows tightening slightly. "Rude, aren't you?"
Carl gave a short laugh. "You sure talk big for someone that short." He took a few steps closer, inspecting Kaito like a predator sizing up his prey. "You lost, kid?"
Alia's grip tightened around Kaito's arm. "Kaito, don't. We can't afford this right now—"
Kaito's eyes flicked to her for a moment, then back to Carl.
"Last warning. Move."
Carl opened his mouth to reply — but the air shifted.
The next instant, Kaito was gone.
Carl's grin froze. He blinked — and Kaito was suddenly standing right in front of him, his cold eyes staring directly into his. The black mist of Rim energy flickered faintly around his frame, though still under control.
Sofia's breath caught.
Fast. Too fast.
Carl's smirk faltered slightly, his hand tightening at his side.
"Well," he said quietly, a shadow of excitement flickering in his tone, "I guess not everyone outside got soft."
Sofia stepped forward immediately, her hand raised in warning. "Carl, stop. He's not with the organization."
Carl glanced back. "You sure?"
"No one from Fern moves like that," she replied, her voice calm but firm. Her gaze stayed on Kaito. "You're not one of them… are you?"
Kaito's eyes didn't waver. "Doesn't matter who I am. If you stand between me and what I need to do… you'll regret it."
The hall stayed silent for a long moment. The tension was suffocating — Alia's heartbeat was the only sound she could hear in her ears.
Sofia's expression softened slightly, though her tone stayed guarded. "We don't mean to fight. We're trying to get out."
Alia finally found her voice. "Then we're on the same side. There's no point in fighting—"
Carl gave a low laugh. "You really think it's that simple? Sis, look at him. That kid's seen things. You can see it in his eyes."
Sofia frowned. "Carl—"
But Kaito spoke first, his voice low and hollow.
"You talk too much."
Carl blinked, but before he could respond, Kaito stepped closer again — his aura pressing down like invisible weight.
Alia grabbed his arm again, desperate. "Kaito! Stop, they're not enemies!"
Kaito's face didn't change, but his tone dropped lower, cold and detached — that same emotionless chill he carried when everything inside him had snapped.
"Everyone here is an enemy until proven otherwise."
Carl's smirk disappeared completely this time. The air grew sharp.
Sofia tensed, her hand twitching as if to reach for something — though she had no weapons.
And then — the light flickered once.
Then again.
Darkness swallowed the corridor for a brief instant.
When it came back — Kaito's figure was gone again.
Reappearing right in front of Carl — his fist already pulled back, black aura crawling up his arm. His body leaned backward mid-air, mouth slightly open, eyes locked forward, every muscle coiled for the strike.
---
.
---
The hallway was dark, lit only by the faint glow of cracked ceiling lights. Billish's breaths came sharp, uneven, as her hand gripped the small wrench she had carried for emergencies. Each step she took was calculated, silent, but alert—any noise could give her away.
Ahead, Kiyara's figure shimmered faintly under the dim light. Her claws caught the little illumination, reflecting it like shards of ice. The tension was palpable; every movement was measured, every glance analyzed.
Billish tightened her grip. She's fast. Too fast… The girl's presence radiated danger. Billish needed a plan—a moment to create an opening. But Kiyara wasn't giving her any breathing room.
The first strike came without warning. Kiyara lunged, her clawed hand slicing through the air toward Billish. She barely rolled aside, letting the claw slash past, scraping sparks off the wall. Her wrench swung in a wide arc, but Kiyara ducked under it, countering with a low, sweeping strike aimed at Billish's legs. Billish jumped, twisting mid-air, narrowly avoiding the sweep.
I need an opening… I need a chance to escape…
But Kiyara didn't relent. Every movement was relentless, precise. She knew Billish's tendencies before she even acted. Every feint, every shift of weight—it was anticipated. Her instincts were sharp, honed, and unnervingly fast.
Suddenly, a blue glow engulfed Kiyara. Her body shone with an otherworldly aura, and the faint hum of energy filled the corridor. Her eyes gleamed, reflecting the pale light like twin moons. Lunar Mode activated.
Billish's mind raced. Her speed… her strength… it just multiplied. How do I even fight her now?
Kiyara's claws left afterimages as she struck, her strikes slicing through the shadows. Each move was faster, deadlier, and more precise. Billish barely managed to block with her wrench, the metal groaning under the force.
She staggered back a few steps, panting. What should I do? What can I do against this?
The hall seemed to stretch endlessly, the faint hum of Kiyara's lunar energy filling every corner. Billish's thoughts tumbled over themselves. I can't fight her directly. I need help… somehow…
Then, movement caught her eye. Three figures were racing alongside her path. At first, she thought her allies had arrived. Hope sparked within her chest.
Kiyara's eyes flicked toward them, momentarily distracted. Her claws paused mid-air. "You think those three are your comrades?" she said, her voice icy but tinged with caution.
Billish took the moment. Now's my chance. She darted to the side, using the shadows as cover. Kiyara, still believing the approaching figures were allies, didn't chase immediately.
"I'm escaping for now!" Kiyara called over her shoulder, her voice cold. "But don't think you can run from Fern!"
Billish's heart pounded as she disappeared into the darkness, the faint glow of Kiyara's Lunar Mode fading behind her.
But as she ran, she caught a glimpse of the figures behind her. They weren't allies at all. They weren't familiar. Their movements were deliberate, fluid, and composed—different from anything she had seen.
"Who… who are you with?" Billish asked, still sprinting, her voice echoing slightly in the empty corridor.
One of them glanced back, their expression hidden, eyes glinting in the faint light. "Mafia Group," they said succinctly, their voices low but firm.
Moments earlier—far from Billish's battlefield—a distant voice echoed through the static-filled corridors.
"Run," it said, calm but commanding.
Rose turned sharply toward Alexander, her crimson eyes narrowing. "Louis, Tina—move. Now!"
Without hesitation, the two obeyed, their footsteps fading down the hall. Alexander stayed behind, his gaze fixed on the darkness ahead. "Why did you let them go?" he demanded, his tone edged with restrained fury.
The voice answered from the unseen void, deep and composed. "Because treating you takes priority."
Alexander clenched his fists, frustration burning beneath his calm exterior. The shadows thickened around him, humming faintly as if acknowledging the unseen presence.
He exhaled slowly, muttering, "Fine… but this better be worth it."
And as he turned back, Louis, Tina, and Rose were already gone—running through the labyrinth of corridors that would soon bring them near Billish.
Before Billish could respond, they vanished—swallowed by the shadows as effortlessly as if the darkness itself had claimed them.
Billish slowed for a moment, breath ragged, trying to process what had just happened. "Mafia Group?" she whispered to herself. Her mind raced. Allies? Enemies? Or something in between? She had no time to dwell on it.
The corridor ahead twisted in a sharp turn. Billish pressed on, her hands scraping against the walls for balance. Her legs ached, and her energy was dwindling, but she forced herself to move. I can't stop now. Not now.
The darkness seemed to press in around her, the echoes of Kiyara's threat still fresh in her ears. Fern… this isn't over. Not by far.
Then, like a mirage, the world seemed to fold. One moment the hallway was solid, the next—Billish vanished into shadows, swallowed by the darkness she had used to her advantage.
For a brief moment, she felt weightless, free from the chase, and a glimmer of hope sparked within her. But deep down, she knew this was only temporary. The world outside the shadows was dangerous, full of forces she couldn't yet see or understand.
Her thoughts flickered to Kiyara, to the others, to the Mafia Group—questions without answers. Yet one certainty remained: she had survived this encounter. For now.
And in the dark, quiet corridors of Fern's domain, the faintest traces of movement whispered that this was only the beginning of another storm.
---
Kaito's fist blurred into nothing but a shadow and a promise. The black aura that had swirled and coalesced around his hand was a storm, hungry and ready to bite. For a breath he felt it: the truth of the power beneath his skin, the memory of needles and cold lights and the iron taste of being remade. His entire body leaned into the strike — the motion honed by anger, by grief, by an economy of pain that had taught him to be efficient.
And then the storm scattered.
It cracked apart like glass. The black ribbons exploded outward and — impossibly — dissolved against a single touch. Sofia's hand was there, palm flat against the air, small and unassuming and colder than anything Kaito could remember. The aura splintered into a thousand thin threads and fizzed away like smoke under rain.
Carl, only a step behind his sister, moved instinctively. He caught one of the ribbons with both hands and felt the impact as if a freight train had slammed into his palms. The energy shoved back against him; his fingers creaked, agony flaring as though bone and tendon were being compressed. He gritted his teeth and launched a brutal kick aimed at Kaito's ribs — the kind of kick trained to break, precise and merciless.
The world narrowed to pressure and white pain. Kaito's breath left him in a single keening sound. His ribs sang as if they might fracture; something inside him—ligament, bone, whatever the experiments had left intact—twined and tore. He doubled, staggering backward. For a moment he could not feel his fists. The taste of iron flooded his mouth.
Alia's hands were already reaching, frantic. "Kaito!" she cried, voice breaking. "Stop—"
Carl's boot arced for another strike. He was savage and straightforward; for him, the experiment had hardened into method. But he paused — not because of mercy but because he noticed the thing between them: Kaito's eyes shifting, not outward but inward. The sight of that hollow stare was like a blade.
Kaito slipped.
The corridor fell away, and he sank into a vision without warning. This one was not the purple-haired phantom, not the seductive whisper of the facility's manipulations. He saw himself: older? younger? It was him and not him — a figure standing at the lip of a void. The other version tilted his head with a curious, almost academic expression.
"So," the figure said, voice like the rustle of dead leaves, "you died."
Kaito clutched at the air. "Why am I here? Where is she? Where—" his voice failed in the vision, thin and childlike.
The other Kaito — a mirror of his emptiness — looked at him without pity. "Which girl do you mean?" he asked. "Names fade quickly. It doesn't matter. You will rise against it. Nine hundred ninety-eight times remain."
The words hit like an order. Rise against what? The vision did not answer. It only watched with the bored curiosity of one staring at a lab specimen.
Pain came back in a rush that was worse than before. It felt surgical, elemental — the Eclipse chemicals reacting, the body protesting the intrusion of energy. Kaito woke with a scream, his hands clawing at the floor. His ribs felt braided with wire, every breath a blade.
He cried out, a raw animal sound the corridor had not heard from him before. The sound tore through the small cluster of onlookers—Alia's face crumpled, tears welling before she could stop them. Sofia's jaw tightened. Carl's eyes flicked to his sister, uncertain.
Sofia's voice cut across the chaos in a flat, level tone. "Brother. Stop."
Carl's hand came away from Kaito in a daze, pain still screaming through his palms. He blinked, as if surfacing from cold water. "That—what the hell was that?" he rasped.
Alia staggered closer, voice trembling into something almost a whisper. "We… we didn't do anything to you. We didn't touch you. I tried to tell you— I tried to say it—" She swallowed the words she had held back, the explanations that had collapsed uselessly before him. Tears streaked tracks in the grime on her cheeks. "They're not with the organization, Carl. Please — I swear."
Sofia stepped between her brother and Kaito, coolly reading the scene as if it were a problem in an equation. She glanced down at the place where Kaito's aura had burst, then at Carl's battered hands.
"You felt it," she said to her brother. "My breaker touched it. It scattered his aura, yes, but the repercussion hit him. You felt the blow on your hands — that means the weave was real and violent." Her tone was clinical, almost detached. "Most people can't withstand a direct counter to an Eclipse flare. The energy tears through you. He still felt the pain because only half the weave was broken."
Carl shook his head, adapting quickly. "So he is…?"
Sofia let the rest hang, but the expression on her face made the conclusion clear enough for anyone who had been in the facility's wings long enough to understand. "There aren't many who carry that signature. From the energy pattern and his reaction — the residual flare and the way the aura reconstituted — he retains a fraction of his power. He's young; he's unstable. That makes him exactly what we suspected."
Alia's breath hitched as the words landed. "You mean—" she started, and then the rest fell out of her mouth before she could swallow it back. "You mean he is the Eclipse boy."
Sofia's eyes were steady. "Yes. Deduction is simple. Fewer than ten people present in the last cycle could produce that pattern. Most would die when the aura collapses. He didn't. He only split. That means he's not an empty vessel; he's a core." She looked at Kaito with something like comprehension, perhaps tinged with pity. "He is a risk—and a tool."
Kaito's body shook. Five minutes stretched in the corridor like a lifetime. He groaned as if he might undo himself; the internal burning of the chemicals and the sensation of tethered bone learned to ache together. He felt like someone who had been rebuilt too many times and was finally humbled by the sheer insistence of pain.
Sofia put a hand to Kaito's shoulder. Her touch was light but firm, an anchor. "You're not with them," she said, quiet but certain. "We didn't make the breach to free their tools. We came to get out. If he's a danger to you or you to him, we will handle it."
Her brother scoffed at the sentiment but did not protest when Sofia walked beside Kaito, supporting him as if he were more than a subject. Around them the corridor smelled of disinfectant and blood, and for a moment the world narrowed to the sound of Kaito's breathing.
Then, from somewhere beyond the dim corridor lights, a low metallic groan rolled through the building—an echo of failing systems and shifting doors. Time was not on anyone's side.
Kaito's scream subsided into a ragged inhale. His eyes, swollen and red-rimmed, flared with a new light. The black aura flickered faintly, like a candle guttering but not extinguished. In those eyes there was no plea, no panic—only calculation and a cold, budding resolve.
He forced himself upright. It took him five minutes, each second a negotiation with his body, but he stood. Tears shone on his cheeks, but his shoulders were straighter. The heat of pain faded to a steady burn—one he had learned to carry.
"Kuro. Alexander," he whispered, voice steady as a verdict. "They will pay."