—Just a little more… just a little more…
The man's voice barely held between irregular gasps, dragging himself across the damp earth while leaving behind a thick trail of blood that spread like an open wound on the path.
His hands, torn and covered in dirt, clung desperately to the ground, pulling a body that no longer responded as it should.
Below his torso… there was nothing left. The lower part of his body had been ripped off, as if it had been separated without care, without mercy, and yet, against all logic, against all sense, he kept moving forward. Not by strength. Not by hope.
But by fear.
Each movement was slower than the previous one, every centimeter gained seemed to cost him more than his body could bear, but still he continued.
His eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and denial, searched for something ahead, anything that could mean salvation. A voice. A shadow. An end that wasn't this one.
Then he heard it.
A melody.
Soft.
Light.
Completely out of place.
In the distance, a figure approached walking calmly, humming a cheerful song that contrasted grotesquely with the scene surrounding her.
Her steps were not hurried, there was no tension in her posture. At times, she even seemed to accompany the rhythm with small movements of her body, as if this were a stroll and not the setting of a massacre.
The man saw her.
His eyes filled with even greater desperation.
He tried to move faster, his hands slipping in his own blood, but still he forced himself to advance. His breathing broke with every attempt, his body had nothing more to give.
But he tried.
Until the end.
Until a shadow fell over him.
There was no warning.
There was no pause.
The sword descended with absolute precision.
It pierced through his head.
And everything ended in that same instant.
The body stopped moving, his expression frozen in a mixture of horror and plea that would no longer have an answer.
The figure that had killed him did not stop to observe him. She simply withdrew the sword with the same tranquility with which she had arrived, letting the body fall inert onto the ground.
Then she took it.
As if it weighed nothing.
As if it were just… one more.
She dragged it to an enormous mountain of corpses that rose a few meters away, a grotesque pile of lifeless bodies stacked without order, without respect, without names.
The smell was unbearable, the blood still fresh on some of them, while others were already beginning to decompose under the heat of the flames that devoured the village.
The body was thrown without care.
One more to the pile.
Nothing special.
Nothing important.
The figure then advanced to the top of that mountain, climbing with firm steps, without slipping, as if she were used to walking over the dead.
Once at the top, she sat down calmly, crossing her legs slightly while bringing a golden cup to her lips.
In her other hand she held a bottle of wine, from which she served herself with total calm, as if that place were nothing more than an irrelevant setting.
The fire crackled around her.
The wooden houses were slowly consumed, the smoke rising toward the sky while the flames devoured what little remained of the village. There were no screams. There was no movement.
Only death.
And in the middle of all that…
A smile.
Her lips curved into an expression that did not belong to someone who had just razed an entire place, but to someone who enjoyed the silence that remained afterward.
Her eyes, calm but empty, scanned the horizon without really stopping on anything, as if all of that had already ceased to have meaning.
For a few seconds, the world seemed to pause.
The fire continued advancing.
The wind moved the ashes.
And the silence… reigned.
But it did not last.
Because not everyone was ignoring what had happened there.
Chaos… always attracts more chaos.
In front of the mountain of corpses, two figures appeared among the smoke and the ruins. Their steps stopped when they saw the scene before them, their gazes sweeping over the bodies, the fire, the destruction… until they stopped on the figure resting on top of it all.
They could not believe it.
They did not want to believe it.
—Towa… what the hell…?
The first one's voice broke slightly, not from fear, but from the disbelief weighing on his chest.
—Why are you up there…? What the hell did you do…?
Towa did not respond.
She did not even look at him.
She simply brought the cup to her lips again and drank calmly, completely ignoring the words directed at her.
—Towa! —the voice grew stronger, more charged—. Answer me! If you did this… I swear I'll kill you!
The silence fell again for an instant, but this time it was not the same as before. This one had tension. This one was about to break.
Towa let out a small sigh.
—Ahh… just shut up already…
Her voice was low, almost annoyed, as if the interruption was more irritating to her than everything that had happened in that place.
—You're stressful… let me drink in peace, will you?
Her words were accompanied by another sip of wine, completely indifferent to the threat she had just heard.
The atmosphere changed.
Something in the air became heavier.
—So you're not denying it…
The second hero spoke this time, his tone lower, more contained, but no less dangerous.
His eyes did not leave Towa, analyzing her, trying to find in her something he still recognized.
But he found nothing.
—Everything is turning into madness… —he continued—. Since that meeting… everything changed…
His voice trembled slightly.
—Rei Amagiri… is dead…
The name hung in the air.
—He committed suicide… —he added, lowering his gaze—. He couldn't bear it… he couldn't keep coming back… he was… broken…
His knees gave out.
He fell to the ground.
His hands clenched tightly as tears began to fall uncontrollably.
—He hanged himself… —he murmured, almost without voice—. He couldn't take it anymore…
The silence that followed was different.
Deeper.
More human.
But it did not last.
—Ahh… you really are noisy…
Towa spoke again, this time with a colder, clearer tone, while finally directing her gaze toward him.
There was no compassion.
There was no sadness.
Only… contempt.
—Can you shut up for a few minutes, Kai Nomura?
The words fell like a dry blow.
Nomura clenched his teeth hard, so much that his lips began to bleed, but he did not raise his gaze. His body trembled, not from fear, but from something much darker.
Beside him, his companion gripped the spear he carried more tightly, his hands tensing around the weapon while his gaze did not leave Towa.
—Arata… —said Nomura in a low but firm voice—. That is not Towa…
He slowly raised his head.
His eyes were open now.
And in them… there was no doubt.
—It's a demon.
A smile appeared on his face, twisted, unstable, but determined.
—Our mission is now clear…
The wind blew strongly, lifting ashes around them.
—We are going to kill… whatever is using the body of our friend.
The silence returned.
But this time…
It was the one that precedes violence.