The night air in District 4 felt heavy, almost unnatural. Yaka walked ahead, hands in his pockets, white hair shifting in the breeze. Yorshiro followed close behind, his steps uneven from the lingering injuries Apex 12 had given him. Every time his bruised ribs throbbed, he remembered how close he'd come to dying.
"Why do you walk so fast…" Yorshiro muttered.
Yaka didn't slow down. "You walk slow."
Even with the casual tone, Yorshiro could feel something different about him. Yaka was tense. Focused. Sharper than usual. He could sense something dangerous in the air, something he couldn't yet identify. Yaka's instincts were rarely wrong — they were the same instincts that saved Yorshiro's life.
At the edge of the ruined district, Taro had sent them to investigate "abnormal Apex activity."But now that Yorshiro knew Apex leaders weren't what they pretended to be, he was suspicious.
"Yaka," Yorshiro said, "what if Taro knew Apex 12 was alive?"
"He did."
Yorshiro stopped walking. "What? How do you kn—"
Yaka turned slightly, eyes calm but deadly serious. "Taro doesn't send people blind into danger. He wanted to see something."
"See what?"
"Us."
Yorshiro's stomach twisted. "Why would he—"
A noise cut him off.
A crumbling can. A trembling breath.
Yaka raised a hand. In a single fluid motion, he stepped forward, Eclipse energy flickering into existence around him like black sparks floating in the air.
"Come out," Yaka said.
A figure stepped from behind a collapsed building.
Apex 12.
His body was shaking violently, veins glowing like cracked embers. His black flame — the core inside everyone's heart — was flickering like it was dying.
"You," Apex 12 rasped. "You should've killed me when you had the chance."
Yorshiro stepped back, fear rushing into his chest. His last fight with Apex 12 had nearly ended his life. He could still remember the sound of his bones cracking, his breathing collapsing.
But Yaka's voice pulled him back.
"Stay behind me."
It wasn't a request. It was a promise.
Apex 12 staggered forward. "You don't understand. Apex… Apex isn't what you think. We aren't protectors. We're—" He coughed blood, forcing himself upright. "We're tools. Experiments. And I refused to obey."
His eyes locked onto Yaka's.
"That's why they marked me for death."
Yaka stepped a little closer, Eclipse aura forming a faint ring around him. "Who marked you?"
Apex 12 shook his head. "Doesn't matter now. They'll erase me tonight."
He clenched his fists, electricity crackling around his arms from his Thunder technique. But the technique was twisted, unstable, like his flame was melting from the inside.
"Let me guess," Yaka said quietly. "They told you to come kill us."
Apex 12's eyes widened.
"You're smart," he whispered. "Too smart."
He roared and charged.
Yorshiro ignited instantly, flames spiraling around his arms. Even through his fear, he stepped forward. "Yaka! He's coming!"
Yaka didn't move until the last possible second.
Then he vanished.
His step technique wasn't teleportation — just reflexes honed by instinct, trauma, and raw talent. Yaka reappeared behind Apex 12, sweeping his leg out. Apex 12 crashed forward, recovering with a burst of lightning.
"You think you can stop me?" Apex 12 yelled. "I don't want to kill you! But if I don't… they'll kill me!"
Yaka slid back, Eclipse energy gathering around his right arm like a swirling shadow."You're already dying," he said softly. "Your black flame is collapsing."
Apex 12 froze.
For a moment the rage left his face.
"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."
Yorshiro swallowed, feeling the heaviness of the moment. Apex 12 wasn't fighting because he wanted to. He was fighting because he had no choice. Apex had broken something inside him — and now they wanted him erased so he couldn't reveal the truth.
Apex 12 suddenly lunged at Yorshiro, lightning exploding forward.
"Yaka!" Yorshiro cried.
Yaka moved instantly.
His Eclipse energy expanded, forming a black crescent. He struck Apex 12 in the chest, sending him flying back into a wall, cracking it down the middle.
Apex 12 fell to his knees. His lightning sputtered out.
"Finish it…" he gasped. "Before they use me against you."
Yorshiro hesitated, trembling. "He's… he's not lying, is he?"
"No," Yaka said.
Yaka tightened his fist. He didn't enjoy killing. But he wasn't cold either. He could see the pain behind Apex 12's eyes — the desperation.
Apex 12 looked up at him, defeated but relieved.
"Thank you… for not making it worse…"
Yaka stepped forward and ended it cleanly with one Eclipse strike to the heart.
Yorshiro turned away, jaw clenched. It was the first time he'd seen Yaka kill someone with a look of regret in his eyes.
Not sadness.Not guilt.But regret.
"Yaka…" Yorshiro whispered. "You okay?"
Yaka wiped Eclipse energy from his hand. "He deserved better."
That was the most emotion Yorshiro had ever heard in his voice.
Yaka crouched next to Apex 12's body and closed his eyes with one hand."I'll find who did this to you," he said quietly. "And I'll end them."
Yorshiro stared. He'd never seen this side of Yaka. The version of him who cared. Truly cared.
"Yaka…""Yeah?""You're… actually a good person."
Yaka stood up, dusting himself off. "Shut up."
Yorshiro laughed a little. Even if Yaka tried to hide his emotions, Yorshiro could see him clearly now.
And that terrified him a little.
Because people like Yaka — the ones who cared too deeply — were always the ones who broke the hardest.
He wondered what memory Yaka was haunted by.Why he feared regret.Why he fought with such calm brutality.
He didn't ask.
But he wanted to.
Before he could say anything else, Yaka's expression changed.
Serious. Focused. Cold.
"Someone's watching us."
Yorshiro's blood ran cold. "Apex…?"
"Higher than 12."
The hunt had already begun.