...04/10/2009 Sunday; Dark Hour...
...FULL MOON OPERATION...
Back in reality, the sound of footsteps filled the streets again.
But Hiro was losing his rhythm.
His steps started to become uneven.
The ringing wouldn't stop.
That agonizing frequency pierced his brain mercilessly, like a rusted nail being driven into the same spot over and over again.
Fuuka, running beside him, called out in concern, trying to help him somehow.
Mitsuru, a few meters ahead, heard his name. She turned her head while running and frowned. The dark-haired boy was visibly different. Slower. More tense.
"Hiro?" she called, her voice broken by her lack of breath.
Hiro didn't answer right away.
His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it—in his neck, in his fingertips.
Each beat was like a hammer trying to break his ribs from the inside.
His muscles began to tingle.
He let out a snarl—an irritated, almost animalistic sound that slipped from his lips without control. His fingers pressed harder against his head.
"I…" his voice came out muffled, stuck in his throat.
"A-are you okay?" Fuuka insisted, fear already creeping into her voice.
Then Hiro lowered his hand from his head and opened his eyes.
Fuuka's heart stopped for a moment.
She saw red.
Hiro's eyes glowed an intense crimson.
Fury etched into every line of his face.
He looked… different.
Hiro's gaze went straight through Fuuka as if she wasn't even there and locked onto the Shadow Arcana of Strength.
He wanted—no, he needed to stop her.
That certainty burned inside him like acid. That bastard wasn't getting out of there alive. Not after everything. Not after they had fought her.
No one could protect her now.
Lucifer's words echoed in his mind like a distant warning: From this day on… your pain will begin.
But…
"I DON'T CARE!" The voice that came out of his throat sounded wild.
A muffled roar that made Fuuka instinctively step aside as she ran.
Then Hiro started running faster.
The world blurred around him as his legs propelled him forward at an absurd speed.
Mitsuru saw Hiro's silhouette pass her like a rocket.
Those red eyes. That expression of pure fury.
And she remembered… that time.
When the Shadow Arcana of the Chariot had nearly killed Hiro. When he… when he had seemed like a beast to protect everyone and survive.
The same look. The same terrifying rage.
"No… not this again…" the words slipped from Mitsuru's lips like a whisper of fear.
Every member of S.E.E.S. instinctively turned at Hiro's shout, their eyes widening at the sight.
The red glow in Hiro's eyes burned like bloody headlights.
"What?" Yukari's voice came out sharp, a mix of shock and fear.
As if obeying a silent command, everyone instinctively moved aside, clearing a path for Hiro.
It was as if their bodies knew not to stand in his way.
Aigis's sensors flared.
A sharp alert filled her internal systems as lines of data scrolled before her eyes.
[WARNING! UNKNOWN ENERGY DETECTED!]
Aigis blinked, her internal mechanisms processing the information.
Her head turned to follow Hiro's figure as he shot ahead.
"It's the…" her voice trembled slightly. "It's the same as before…"
Hiro kept moving forward without stopping.
His body tore through the group like a cannonball, each step leaving faint marks on the asphalt.
The Shadow Arcana of Strength was right there.
Each breath Hiro took came out as a violent gasp, more like a beast than a human.
His muscles burned—aching for more effort.
Sweat streamed down his face. Rage flooded his veins, and that was all he felt.
There was no more time.
Hiro slipped his hand into his coat and pulled out his kukri.
The blade flashed briefly before his fingers spun it and gripped it tightly.
His eyes scanned the surroundings.
The streetlights. Their metal structures bathed in green light.
An idea formed in his mind.
Without hesitation, Hiro turned and sprinted toward the nearest pole.
As he reached it, he leapt, planting his feet hard against the structure. The pole bent slightly under the impact.
Then Hiro launched himself into the air.
His legs propelled him away with tremendous force, sending him straight toward the Shadow Arcana. His body spun midair, kukri raised, eyes locked onto the target.
The Shadow Arcana felt something.
Something about that sensation made it turn its head.
It saw Hiro flying toward it—those red eyes burning with fury.
But it wasn't just him.
For a split second—something that could have been an illusion or reality—it saw something overlapping his figure.
A colossal silhouette with two pairs of wings. One white as snow. The other black as night.
And on that figure's face… a macabre smile.
The same red eyes.
"ENOUGH!" Hiro's scream tore through the air.
As he shouted, he spun the kukri and drove it with full force into the Shadow's head.
The blade sank into the center of the Arcana's mask with a wet, heavy sound.
The Shadow screamed in pain as black liquid burst from the wound, running down the cracked mask.
But Hiro didn't stop.
Using the embedded kukri as leverage, he swung his body, throwing all his weight downward.
The blade acted as an anchor as he forced the Shadow toward the ground.
Unable to resist, the Arcana of Strength crashed into the asphalt.
Its massive body hit with a dull impact, rolling uncontrollably for several meters before stopping.
Its bars scraped against the ground, producing a harsh, agonizing sound.
Hiro rolled clumsily, his body aching from the impact.
With a growl of anger, he stabbed the kukri into the asphalt, using it as a brake.
The force was so strong that fragments of asphalt flew as his body dragged to a stop.
He lifted his head, breathing heavily, eyes locked on the fallen Shadow.
The creature began screaming nonstop.
A horrifying sound, a mix of pain and fear.
Its metal bars slammed against the ground in uncontrollable spasms as black liquid continued to spill from its wound, staining the few remaining flowers.
Hiro stood up, ripping the kukri from the ground with a sharp motion.
Then he began walking toward the Shadow. Slowly.
Heavy steps, each one striking the ground like a hammer.
He got close—close enough to feel the sickening heat radiating from it.
Without hesitation, he raised his free hand into a fist.
The Shadow screamed louder.
But he… couldn't take that sound anymore.
"SHUT UP!"
As soon as he shouted, he let out a furious grunt and brought his fist down.
The impact was devastating. His punch struck the Shadow's head with such force that the ground around it cracked.
The creature let out a muffled, pitiful sound as its head sank into the asphalt.
CRACK.
The mask fractured completely—but still didn't break.
With what little consciousness remained, the Shadow lifted its gaze.
All it saw was Hiro's murderous stare looking down at it. Those red eyes. That heavy breathing.
His arm already rising again.
"YOU BITCH!"
The second punch came down with even more force.
CRASH.
The impact was so violent that part of the Shadow's body lifted off the ground for a moment.
Its head sank even deeper into the asphalt, now partially deformed by Hiro's blows.
Hiro kept growling, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he stared at the Shadow on the ground.
They looked at Hiro in shock.
Then at the Arcana of Strength, collapsed on the asphalt, its head buried into the ground.
How… how had he taken that thing down by himself?
But before anyone could say anything, Hiro turned his head toward them. His red eyes swept over the group as if searching for them.
"Move it!" His voice came out irritated, bestial, almost unrecognizable. "She's stunned!"
The shout echoed through the street. Minato narrowed his eyes, as if understanding what Hiro meant.
Without hesitation, he ran toward the fallen Shadow, his sword gleaming under the greenish light.
With a swift motion, he raised the blade above his head and drove it into the creature's abdomen.
The Shadow Arcana let out a cry of pain—weaker than before, but still sharp, still desperate. Black liquid burst from the wound, running down Minato's blade.
Without wasting time, everyone charged in.
It was a massacre.
Punch. Kick. Slash. Stab. Gunshot.
Each blow echoed like a hammer striking raw flesh. The Shadow began screaming nonstop—a continuous, high-pitched, desperate sound—as its body was torn apart from all sides.
Black liquid sprayed with every impact. It splattered across faces, ran down arms, soaked into their clothes.
But no one stopped. No one slowed down.
The Shadow's bars dragged weakly across the ground, useless. Its flowers—what remained of them—were completely drenched in black.
Amid the blows, the Strength Arcana tried something. Its chest swelled with one last desperate breath, as if it were about to unleash a final scream—a last act of resistance.
But Mitsuru stepped forward.
The sound of her boots echoed against the asphalt. Her cold eyes locked onto the creature without a trace of mercy. The rapier in her hand gleamed.
"Enough."
Her voice was calm. Cold. Focused.
Mitsuru let out a low grunt of effort and drove the rapier into the Shadow Arcana's chest. The thin blade pierced the dark flesh to the hilt, running straight through the creature's body.
The Shadow Arcana let out a different scream this time.
It wasn't pain. It was something deeper. A sound that seemed to come from the core of its very being.
A glow began to emanate from its cracked mask. At first faint, then growing stronger, until the entire creature seemed to shine from the inside out.
It writhed. Curled in on itself. Its massive body began to contract, bars breaking apart, flowers disintegrating into black dust.
All of S.E.E.S.—except Mitsuru—stepped back.
Until finally, with a dry snap, the Arcana exploded.
A black mist burst outward in all directions, completely engulfing Mitsuru.
Everyone raised their arms to shield themselves, feeling the wave of energy pass through them like an icy wind.
Then… silence.
Slowly, the mist began to fade, drifting upward like smoke at dawn.
Mitsuru's silhouette emerged from the thinning haze.
She was standing.
Elegant—as if nothing had happened.
The wind swayed her long hair, making it ripple like flames around her face. Her clothes were stained with black liquid, but her posture remained flawless.
With a precise motion, she slashed the air to clean her rapier. The thin blade cut through the air, scattering the last traces of black fluid onto the ground.
Then she spun the weapon in her hand and, with care and precision, sheathed it.
Everyone looked at the place where the Strength Arcama had been.
Now, only cracked asphalt and dark stains remained.
They knew…
Only one remained.
One last Shadow Arcana before the Dark Hour would be destroyed.
TO BE CONTINUED...