Kazen gasped, his breath ragged as he lunged forward, his blade aimed straight for Aremaki's chest. He poured every ounce of strength into the strike, his muscles tensed with desperation. But Aremaki was faster—far faster. With a swift and practiced movement, he pivoted to the side, effortlessly evading the attack. In the same instant, his blade lashed out, striking true—not at Kazen, but at an unsuspecting BCB agent who had been closing in from behind.
The agent's eyes widened in shock, his mouth parting as if to scream, but no sound came. The gleaming steel had pierced his heart clean through. His body wavered, a tremor passing through him before his legs buckled beneath him. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his fingers twitching once before stillness claimed him. The scent of blood thickened in the air.
Another agent, witnessing the brutal kill, let out an enraged cry. His fury burned in his eyes as he rushed at Aremaki, his blade raised high for a vengeful strike. But it was a reckless charge—Aremaki had already anticipated it. With the precision of a seasoned predator, he sidestepped, the agent's momentum carrying him forward into nothingness. In that split second of vulnerability, Aremaki plunged his weapon into the agent's abdomen.
A gasp of agony escaped the man's lips. His fingers clawed at the wound, as though trying to hold in the life that was rapidly slipping away. Blood poured from the deep gash, darkening his uniform, pooling at his feet. He staggered, knees weakening, before finally succumbing to the darkness. His body collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving ground beside his fallen comrade.
Kazen felt his breath catch in his throat. The realization hit him with the force of a hammer—he was in grave danger. His instincts screamed at him to flee. His heart pounded a frenzied rhythm against his ribs, his body demanding action. Without another thought, he turned on his heel and bolted, his feet pounding against the dirt as he sought an escape.
But Aremaki was relentless.
The moment Kazen moved, Aremaki followed. His pursuit was swift, his movements fluid and unhesitating, a hunter closing in on his prey. The distance between them vanished in mere seconds, a terrifying reminder of just how outmatched Kazen was.
Panic clawed at his mind. His eyes darted around, searching frantically for aid, for an ally, for any form of salvation. But there was no one. The battlefield was eerily empty—either the others had fled, or they had already met the same fate as the fallen agents. He was alone.
Realizing there was no escape, Kazen did the only thing he could—he stopped running.
With a sharp intake of breath, he turned to face Aremaki, his grip tightening around his weapon. His fingers trembled, but he steadied them. He had to fight. He had no choice. If he was going to die, he would not do so with his back turned.
Aremaki slowed, his footsteps measured as he approached. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable—amusement? Pity? Perhaps both. He tilted his head slightly, as if gauging Kazen's resolve.
"You've finally decided to stand your ground," Aremaki mused, his voice eerily calm. "A commendable decision. Foolish, but commendable."
Kazen swallowed, forcing down the fear that threatened to consume him. He raised his blade, his stance firm despite the tremor running through his limbs. He would not let Aremaki see his fear. He would not give him that satisfaction.
Aremaki exhaled slowly, lifting his weapon with a fluid ease that spoke of countless battles. "Let's see if you can make this interesting."
Then, without warning, he struck.
Kazen barely had time to react. Their blades clashed, ringing through the air like a death knell. The force of the impact jolted through Kazen's arms, but he gritted his teeth and held firm. He countered swiftly, slashing towards Aremaki's side, but the warrior dodged effortlessly, his movements as fluid as water.
Again and again, Kazen attacked, desperation fueling his strikes. But Aremaki was an enigma—unreadable, untouchable. He weaved through the assaults with maddening ease, parrying each strike as though it were nothing more than a trivial inconvenience.
Kazen's breath grew heavier. His muscles screamed in protest. His body was reaching its limit, while Aremaki remained as composed as ever, barely winded, his expression unchanged.
A moment later, Kazen made a fatal mistake.
His footwork faltered, just slightly—barely perceptible, but to someone like Aremaki, it was enough.
Seizing the opportunity, Aremaki moved with deadly precision. His blade slashed downward in a blur of steel, knocking Kazen's weapon from his grasp. The sword clattered to the ground, useless. Before Kazen could react, Aremaki's hand shot out, fingers tightening around his throat in an iron grip.
Kazen gasped, his air supply cut off, his hands clawing at Aremaki's wrist. His vision blurred at the edges, black spots dancing before his eyes. He struggled, his body thrashing in vain.
Aremaki leaned in, his breath cool against Kazen's ear. "You fought well," he murmured, almost gently. "But not well enough."
Then, without hesitation, he drove his blade forward.
Meanwhile, on another part of the battlefield, a fierce clash erupted between Cisco and Council Member 0 against Akin. The air crackled with energy as blades clashed and sparks flew, their movements a deadly dance of skill and precision. Akin, unfazed by the two-on-one disadvantage, sneered as he weaved through their attacks with remarkable agility.
Scoffing, he taunted, "This is an unfair fight. If you truly want to defeat me, face me one on one!" His voice carried a mixture of arrogance and amusement, his confidence unwavering.
Before either Cisco or Council Member 0 could respond, a sudden shift in the shadows signaled the arrival of another combatant. Nesco emerged, his smirk sharp as a dagger. Without hesitation, he lunged at Cisco, forcing him into a separate battle. Their blades met in a violent clash, their duel quickly spiraling into a blur of motion and steel.
Now, with Cisco occupied, only Akin and Council Member 0 remained. The battlefield around them seemed to shrink, leaving the two warriors locked in an inevitable confrontation. Akin's smirk widened, his stance shifting as he prepared for the fight he had been waiting for. Council Member 0 tightened his grip on his weapon, determination burning in his eyes. There would be no retreat—only a battle to the end.
Council Member 0 spotted an opening and lunged at Nesco, aiming for a decisive strike. But before his blade could land, Akin intervened with a brutal counter. Steel flashed as Akin's sword sliced through the air, targeting Council Member 0's throat in a lethal arc.
At the last moment, Council Member 0 twisted away, narrowly avoiding the deadly blow. Seizing the opportunity, he countered with a swift and precise stab, his blade piercing Akin's side. A sharp gasp escaped Akin's lips as blood seeped from the wound, darkening his attire. Yet, he did not falter.
Gritting his teeth, Akin's grip on his sword tightened. Pain fueled his resolve rather than hindering him. With renewed ferocity, he launched into a relentless assault, his strikes faster, his movements sharper. The battlefield rang with the sharp clash of blades as the two warriors locked in a fierce duel, each refusing to yield.
At the same time, chaos unfolded elsewhere. Maria and Hellesa moved like twin blades through the battlefield, striking with deadly precision. Each step was calculated, each swing of their weapons lethal. Enemy agents fell in rapid succession, their bodies crumpling amidst the dust and debris.
But amid the carnage, a sharp gunshot rang out.
Maria barely registered the sound before pain seared through her ear. A burning sensation ripped through her skull, the force of the shot throwing her balance off. Her breath hitched as blood trickled down her face, warm and slick. The world around her blurred, shapes and sounds melting into an indistinct haze. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the rubble-strewn ground, struggling to remain conscious.
Hellesa's eyes widened in alarm. The battle raging around them became secondary—Maria was hurt. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged forward, ignoring the chaos and advancing enemies. She dropped to her knees, assessing Maria's wound with frantic urgency. Seeing the blood staining her companion's skin, fury flared in her chest.
She wasted no time. With a firm grip, she hoisted Maria into her arms, her strength unwavering despite the weight of the battlefield pressing down on them. Gunfire whizzed past, but Hellesa didn't falter. Gritting her teeth, she carried Maria away from the relentless crossfire, determination burning in her gaze. She would not let Maria fall here.
Above them, the deafening roar of an aircraft split through the sky, a harbinger of destruction. The ominous hum of its engines grew louder, drowning out the chaos below. Then, without warning, three missiles streaked downward, their sleek forms slicing through the smoke-filled air. They struck the road adjacent to Dezvav Restaurant with merciless precision.
The world seemed to pause for a fraction of a second before a cataclysmic explosion shattered the moment. A deafening roar engulfed the battlefield as fire and metal erupted outward in a violent inferno. The blast wave tore through everything in its radius, sending shockwaves rippling across the streets.
Flames surged like a ravenous beast, devouring asphalt, vehicles, and human flesh alike. Those caught in the detonation's grasp had no chance—bodies were incinerated in an instant, their agonized screams swallowed by the relentless fury of the explosion. Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and suffocating, turning day into night.
The surrounding buildings shuddered under the force of the blast. Windows shattered into deadly shards, walls groaned and cracked, and within moments, the structures buckled. Masonry and steel twisted, collapsing into a devastating avalanche of debris. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal rained down upon the battlefield, crushing anything unfortunate enough to be beneath them.
The once-bustling street had become an unrecognizable wasteland—a smoldering graveyard where life had been abruptly extinguished. The air reeked of charred flesh, burning fuel, and the acrid stench of destruction. The ground was littered with the remnants of what once was—scattered weapons, scorched uniforms, and the twisted remains of those who had stood there only moments before.
Above it all, the aircraft circled briefly, its mission complete, before vanishing into the clouds, leaving only ruin in its wake.
As the dust settled, Kazen found himself locked in a desperate struggle against Aremaki's overwhelming strength. Every strike Aremaki delivered was calculated and brutal, his blade a whirlwind of death. Kazen barely managed to keep up, his muscles screaming with exhaustion as he parried and dodged. Each deflection sent painful tremors up his arms, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He knew he was on the verge of defeat. His body was weakening, his reactions slowing—one wrong move, and it would all be over.
Aremaki's eyes gleamed with ruthless precision as he raised his sword for the finishing strike. The battlefield seemed to fade around Kazen, time slowing as he braced himself for the inevitable. Then, without warning, a blur of movement cut through the smoke-filled air.
A shadow leaped from the rooftop of Dezvav Restaurant, descending like a phantom from above. The figure landed with a cat-like grace behind Aremaki, the whisper of steel slicing through the air. In an instant, a sharp blade tore into Aremaki's shoulder.
Aremaki let out a sharp grunt, his body jerking from the sudden impact. Blood splattered against the ground as he staggered slightly, momentarily thrown off balance. The attack had been unexpected, a rare moment of vulnerability in the warrior's otherwise impenetrable defenses.
Kazen, seizing the opportunity, quickly stumbled backward, putting precious distance between himself and his relentless foe. Relief flooded his aching body, his lungs greedily gulping in air. He turned to see his savior—Izaki, his dark cloak billowing slightly, his stance poised for battle. The glint of fresh blood on his blade was proof of his intervention.
Kazen exhaled sharply, his gratitude evident in his voice. "Thanks for the help, friend." His words were strained, but there was no mistaking the relief laced within them.
Izaki gave a small nod, his expression unreadable, his blade still raised. There was no need for words. His presence alone was enough.
Aremaki, recovering quickly from the surprise assault, rolled his shoulder, ignoring the blood trickling down his arm. His eyes flickered between the two warriors, a smirk curling on his lips despite the wound. "Interesting," he mused, his voice as composed as ever. "You think numbers will change the outcome?" His grip on his weapon tightened. "Let's find out."
Without hesitation, Izaki and Kazen moved as one, their weapons flashing in perfect harmony. They had fought together before, and their synergy was undeniable. Izaki's strikes were sharp and precise, complementing Kazen's more aggressive style. Aremaki, however, remained undeterred. Even against two formidable opponents, he fought with the same deadly grace, countering each attack with flawless precision.
The battle raged on, steel clashing against steel, sparks flying with every impact. The ground beneath them was stained with blood, the air thick with the scent of iron and smoke. Kazen, fueled by renewed determination, pushed forward, matching Aremaki's strikes with increasing ferocity. Izaki, ever the opportunist, aimed for the gaps in Aremaki's defense, forcing him to divide his attention.
Yet, despite their efforts, Aremaki remained a force of nature—unyielding, unbreakable. If they wanted to take him down, they would have to find a way to do it together, or not at all.
The battlefield was now a wasteland of destruction. Broken bodies, burning rubble, and shattered weapons littered the ground. The once-bustling streets were unrecognizable, reduced to a hellish landscape of death and devastation. What was once a vibrant city had become a graveyard, a place where dreams and lives had been shattered in an instant.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and blood. The missile strike had left a gaping, fiery crater in the earth, swallowing entire sections of the city. Buildings that had once stood tall now crumbled into the abyss, their skeletal remains a testament to the sheer brutality of the battle. The cries of the wounded and the dying filled the air, desperate voices pleading for salvation that would never come. Some reached out for help, only to find nothing but the cold touch of death creeping closer.
Minutes passed like an eternity. The weight of destruction settled over the battlefield like an oppressive force, suffocating those who remained. Then, as if the heavens themselves mourned the devastation, the sky darkened. Thick, ominous clouds gathered above, rolling in like a funeral shroud. Moments later, a thunderstorm erupted, unleashing its fury upon the ruined city.
Heavy raindrops pelted the battlefield, soaking the exhausted fighters to their bones. The cold water mixed with the blood on their skin, creating crimson rivulets that streamed into the ruins, painting the ground with a grotesque beauty. The once-roaring fires hissed and sizzled as the relentless downpour fought to smother them, filling the air with the bitter scent of scorched earth and damp ash.
The storm raged on, the wind howling through the broken structures like the wails of fallen warriors. Visibility became a struggle as the rain blurred their sight, turning the battlefield into a shadowy, shifting nightmare. Yet amid the chaos, one figure remained unwavering—Council Member 0. While everything around him dissolved into a storm-washed blur, he stood sharp and defined, his presence unyielding against the madness. Blood flowed freely along the streets like a river, and on this battlefield, no one was spared from its taint. Every survivor, every warrior, bore the mark of blood on their hands—no one remained unscathed.
Above, the deep, rumbling sound of rotors signaled the arrival of a helicopter. It hovered over the battlefield, its cameras recording the horrors below. But its presence was short-lived. From the sky, an aircraft swooped down, releasing a missile that obliterated the helicopter in a fiery explosion. However, as if the heavens themselves had grown weary of this senseless bloodshed, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, striking the aircraft with divine wrath. The plane shuddered violently before erupting into flames, its wreckage plummeting to the ruins below in a final, catastrophic descent.
Despite the growing storm, the battle did not cease. Instead, it intensified, its chaos expanding beyond the battlefield and engulfing the entire city of Kemari. The streets that had once thrived with life now became hunting grounds, filled with nothing but bloodshed and despair. No corner was left untouched—chaos ruled the city, and death lurked in every shadow.
The people of Kemari fought like warriors, even those who had never lifted a weapon before. Survival had become their only instinct, their only purpose. Friends turned against friends, strangers became enemies, and the line between ally and adversary blurred beyond recognition. The city, once a beacon of civilization, was now a battleground where humanity itself seemed to crumble.
But no matter how fiercely they fought, the tide was against them. The forces they faced were relentless, a silent but calculated power moving behind the scenes. It was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. And then, the inevitable happened.
From the shadows, agents of a secret organization emerged. Clad in black, they moved with eerie precision, their presence barely noticeable until it was too late. One by one, the fighters were subdued, captured, dragged away from the battlefield. Their resistance was fierce, but against the sheer efficiency of their captors, it was futile.
Kemari had fallen into complete disarray, its people left powerless against an unseen force that had been watching all along. What had started as a battle had escalated into a city-wide catastrophe, and now, it was no longer a fight for victory—it was a struggle for survival.
As the storm continued to rage, the city of Kemari, once a thriving metropolis, had become a graveyard of lost souls. And in the center of it all, Council Member 0 remained, the lone figure who had yet to fall, standing amidst the ruins of a world that could never return to what it once was.
The battle raged on, an unrelenting storm of steel and fury between Aremaki, Izaki, and Kazen. At first, Kazen believed that with Izaki's formidable strength beside him, they could finally overpower Aremaki. But that belief shattered like glass the moment their blades clashed. Aremaki was not just a skilled warrior—he was a force of nature, precise and unyielding. Every strike they threw at him was met with a counter, every gap in their defenses ruthlessly exploited. It was as if he could read their every move before they made it, and soon, fatigue crept into their limbs like a slow, merciless poison.
Sweat dripped from Kazen's brow, his breathing ragged as he struggled to keep up. Izaki fared no better, his swift strikes losing some of their edge as Aremaki's relentless counters pushed them both further onto the defensive. No matter how hard they fought, it was never enough. Aremaki's blade danced through the air with terrifying precision, turning their best efforts into futile displays of desperation.
Then, in a blur of motion, Hellesa leaped into the fray. Her arrival was like a sudden gust of wind, a new force shifting the tides of battle. Without hesitation, she fell into sync with Kazen and Izaki, her movements fluid and precise. She struck with speed and cunning, weaving through Aremaki's defenses with the grace of a seasoned warrior. The three of them fought as one, their attacks synchronized in an unspoken rhythm, each movement complementing the other.
But Aremaki remained unfazed. His confidence never wavered, nor did his composure crack. If anything, he seemed to thrive under the increased challenge. He met their strikes with the same deadly efficiency, countering their combined assault as though he had been waiting for this moment. His endurance seemed limitless, his blade a phantom of destruction that refused to falter. Every feint, every opening they tried to exploit was nothing more than an illusion—a trap that Aremaki twisted back upon them with lethal intent.
Hellesa, despite her agility, found herself barely dodging a vicious counterstrike that could have ended her. Izaki gritted his teeth, launching another offensive, but Aremaki parried his blows effortlessly, retaliating with a strike so precise that Izaki had no choice but to retreat. Kazen, fueled by frustration and desperation, lunged forward, his sword arcing toward Aremaki's chest. Yet, as if time had slowed, Aremaki sidestepped, twisting his blade in a perfect riposte that nearly caught Kazen off guard.
It was clear—they were not fighting an ordinary warrior. They were facing a master, a predator who saw through their every movement and adapted accordingly. The realization sent a chill through Kazen. Was this truly a fight they could win?
But even as doubt gnawed at him, he refused to surrender. He glanced at Hellesa and Izaki, seeing the same determination reflected in their eyes. Aremaki might have been stronger, faster, and more experienced, but they would not yield. Not now. Not ever.
As the storm raged around them, the battle reached its peak—a clash of wills, of strength and endurance, where the outcome remained uncertain, hanging by the fragile thread of fate.
Meanwhile, a different battle raged between Cisco and Nesco. Though they stood on opposite sides of the war, their brotherly bond held them back from fighting with true intent. Their weapons clashed in a deadly dance, yet hesitation lingered in every movement. Neither could bring themselves to deliver a fatal blow. Each strike carried the weight of memories, of shared laughter, of years spent together before the war divided them. Their battle was not one of skill or strength but of emotions—duty pitted against love.
Their silent struggle was shattered in an instant. A blur of movement, a glint of steel, and then—pain. Council Member 0 struck without warning, his blade slicing across Nesco's back. The force of the attack sent Nesco staggering forward, blood spilling from the wound as a sharp gasp escaped his lips. His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the ground, his vision spinning.
"Family has no place in war," Council Member 0 said, his voice cold, devoid of sympathy. "If you let your emotions interfere, you will be destroyed."
Cisco's heart pounded as he dropped to his knees beside Nesco. His hands trembled as he pressed them against his brother's wound, as if sheer will alone could stop the bleeding. Panic surged through him, but beneath it burned something darker—rage. A deep, unrelenting fury unlike anything he had ever known. His fingers curled into fists as he turned his glare toward Council Member 0.
Akin, witnessing the brutal scene, wasted no time. With a fierce cry, he lunged at Council Member 0, his strikes fueled by desperation and vengeance. He moved with relentless aggression, each attack aimed at breaking through the council member's impenetrable defense. But Council Member 0 remained eerily composed, effortlessly deflecting every blow. Akin pushed harder, ignoring the exhaustion weighing on his limbs. He needed to land a decisive hit. He had to.
Then, with one final surge of energy, Akin's blade found its mark. The steel slashed across Council Member 0's waist, drawing blood.
For a brief, fleeting moment, hope flickered in Akin's eyes. But it was quickly extinguished.
Council Member 0 did not flinch. He did not falter. Instead, he retaliated with terrifying precision. His blade arced through the air, aimed directly for Akin's throat. The strike would have been fatal—had Cisco not intervened. In a desperate act, he intercepted the attack, blocking the blow that would have ended Akin's life.
Council Member 0's gaze hardened. "I did not expect you to betray me for a brother you barely knew for years," he said, his tone heavy with disdain. "Now, you will die alongside him."
With effortless strength, he hurled Akin aside. The impact sent Akin crashing into the debris, his body motionless for a moment. Before Council Member 0 could finish Cisco off, another figure leaped into action—Zenix. His sword flashed as he aimed a strike at Council Member 0's leg. But just like before, the attack was useless. Council Member 0 moved with inhuman speed, dodging the blade as though it were nothing more than a slow-moving shadow.
Realizing the dire situation, Cisco, Zenix, and Akin regrouped. With silent agreement, they launched a coordinated assault, attacking from different angles in hopes of overwhelming their opponent. Blades clashed, sparks ignited in the darkness, but the outcome remained unchanged. Council Member 0 remained untouchable. His movements were impossibly precise, his reactions beyond human. Every strike they landed felt meaningless, as though they were fighting an immovable force.
On the ground, barely clinging to consciousness, Nesco watched the battle unfold. His body was weak, pain consuming him, but his mind remained sharp. He saw the struggle, the futility of their attacks. If nothing changed, they would all die here.
Summoning the last of his strength, Nesco's trembling fingers reached for something at his belt—a grenade. His grip was weak, but his resolve was ironclad. With a final act of defiance, he pulled the pin and, using what little strength he had left, hurled the grenade toward Council Member 0.
A deafening explosion erupted, engulfing the battlefield in fire and smoke. The force of the blast sent shockwaves through the area, knocking Cisco, Zenix, and Akin back. For several moments, nothing was visible—only the thick, suffocating cloud of destruction.
Then, as the smoke cleared, a figure emerged.
Council Member 0 stood amid the wreckage, his silhouette untouched. At first, it seemed as though the attack had been ineffective. But then—he swayed, just slightly. Internally, something had changed. The grenade had disrupted him, had damaged something deep within. Though outwardly composed, his body was no longer functioning at full capacity.
But even weakened, he remained a monster.
Before anyone could capitalize on the moment, he moved. With deadly efficiency, he struck Cisco down. The blade cut deep, and Cisco crumpled to the ground.
The battle had not ended. It had only begun.
While the battle between Cisco, Zenix, and Council Member 0 raged, another fight reached its climax. Hellesa, Kazen, and Izaki stood against Aremaki, their bodies battered, their strength waning. Blood dripped from open wounds, staining the scorched ground beneath them. Yet, despite the pain, they refused to yield. They had come too far to falter now.
Aremaki, ever the relentless warrior, fought with a desperation that belied his exhaustion. He had held his ground for longer than any man should have, his blade moving like a phantom through the chaos. But even he was not invincible. The relentless assault from Kazen, Izaki, and Hellesa chipped away at his defenses. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his once-flawless movements grew sluggish. His strength was failing him.
He realized then—his time had come.
Kazen, sensing the shift in Aremaki's stance, pressed forward with one final, decisive attack. His blade found its mark, piercing through Aremaki's chest. Aremaki's body jerked as he staggered back, his hands instinctively clutching the fatal wound. A quiet, almost peaceful smile crossed his lips. He had known this was inevitable. He had always been prepared to die a warrior's death.
With a final exhale, he collapsed.
But his death came at a cost. Kazen, Izaki, and Hellesa stood over his fallen form, barely able to hold themselves upright. Their bodies were broken, their limbs trembling from exertion and injury. Kazen's vision blurred as blood trickled down his brow, stinging his eyes. Izaki clutched a deep gash in his side, each breath sending fresh waves of pain through him. Hellesa's arm hung limp at her side, dislocated from the force of Aremaki's final counterattack.
They had won this battle—but at what cost?
As the fight continued across the battlefield, a strange stillness settled over the ruins. The sounds of clashing steel and battle cries faded, replaced by the howling wind that carried the scent of blood and fire. One by one, warriors fell, their lives claimed by the unrelenting war. The city itself, once vibrant and full of life, had become a desolate graveyard.
The survivors stood amid the devastation, their bodies weary, their spirits heavy. They had fought for victory, for survival—but now, they could only wonder if any of it mattered. Had they truly won anything? Or had they merely delayed the inevitable?
As they gazed upon the ruins of their world, one thought echoed in their minds:
Was this truly the end?