"Help! Somebody help me!"
A woman stumbled to the ground, dragging herself backward. "I don't want to die… Please let me go… Someone save me!"
A bulky man stopped, lowering his blood-stained bat. He glanced at her, irritation flickering across his face.
"Get out of here, lady. This place is about to turn into a nightmare."
Ignoring her pleas, he swung the bat again at the figure sprawled on the ground. Each strike landed with a sickening crunch, reducing the victim to a shapeless mess. The person beaten can barely be called human anymore. Only a tattoo on the neck remained intact.
The woman scrambled to her feet, eyes wide with panic, and bolted. Her mind was blank, direction meaningless; all she wanted was to escape. But every street she stumbled into mirrored the same horror.
Violence.
It was humanity's oldest solution. In a world shaped by technology and logic, laws and police kept it contained. Crime lurked in the shadows, labeled as "lawlessness."
Gangs, the underworld gave it form.
Yet humans crave structure. The larger the group, the tighter the rules. Even the underworld had its own code.
Nowadays, gangs operated like businesses; some even registered as companies. They spoke of honor but enforced it with blood, and were merciless when it comes to revenge.
Now, in Fuyuki City's new district, violence erupted unchecked.
Fistfights, weapon clashes, murders, accidents, mob attacks, one-on-one duels; humanity's limited imagination seemed to settle on these few ways to fight. All of them played out here.
Oddly, the attackers didn't steal or cry out for revenge or pick specific targets. They just wanted to fight; anyone would do, like satisfying a deep, unthinking urge.
"Are they out of their minds?"
A middle-aged man in a white suit pressed a towel to his bleeding forehead. "Taking on every gang at once… Has old Fujimura lost his grip?"
He couldn't understand why Fujimura Raiga, Fuyuki's underworld kingpin, would pull this stunt. If it was about territory, he could've squeezed the others out with pressure alone. Why go this far?
This wasn't just gang business anymore. Even if Fujimura won, the police would crush him in the end.
Fujimura Raiga, the old man who ruled the city's dark underbelly. Was he really this reckless?
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What are you playing at? This isn't like you." The police chief sat across from a stern figure in a black kimono, Fujimura Raiga.
One led the Fujimura Group, the other the city's law enforcement. At the eye of this storm, they shared tea like old companions.
The chief smiled, his tone light. "You're not a young man anymore. Don't let your temper get the better of you. If some punks crossed you, a quick lesson would've been enough, why make it this messy?"
He assumed Raiga was flexing his authority. "I'd say you've made your point. Pull back while you still can."
Raiga stayed quiet, sipping his tea. His voice carried a bitter edge. "If I could stop it, I would have."
"Hm?" The chief frowned, sensing something off. "You're carrying your sword today. What's going on? You haven't touched it in years."
"I need a favor," Raiga said, staring at the garden's stone arrangement. "Just this once… keep the police out of it."
".....What happened?" The chief's eyes widened. When Raiga spoke like this, it meant the situation was beyond repair.
"My granddaughter…"
"Taiga? I've met her. She is a lively girl. What happened?"
"She was kidnapped." Raiga let out a hollow chuckle. "My granddaughter, the underworld's princess, was kidnaped."
The chief drew a sharp breath. He knew how much Taiga meant to Raiga; the old man would give his life for her without hesitation.
But a question lingered: "Why kidnap her and how was she kidnapped?"
"A gang rivalry?"
"No idea… Her guards are fine but they can't recall a thing. It's like something unnatural happened."
Raiga's brow creased. "They don't want money or territory. Just one demand: turn this city into chaos, like a disaster. If I don't… I can't take that chance."
The chief's face darkened as he thought it over. "This isn't some impulsive thug. I am afraid it's all calculated and you're just a pawn in their plan. The other party is probably someone sharp and unhinged."
His years of experience hinted at the truth, but it didn't solve anything.
Raiga's voice dropped low. "I've told my men to hold back, keep civilians out of it as much as possible. Old friend, help me here… or I'll have to turn against the police too."
"Fine… but I've got my own responsibilities, Raiga. You know that, right?" The chief stood and left without waiting for a reply.
Raiga sighed. "No way around it…"
The chief wouldn't send officers against the Fujimura Group; not out of friendship, but practicality. The local police couldn't match Raiga's forces.
Until reinforcements arrived, they'd focus on shielding civilians. But if the chaos didn't stop by then…
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Move it, kid!"
A snarling man swung a steel pipe. Haru watched him calmly. "Too wide."
In an instant, Muramasa slid free. Haru shifted his shoulder, wrist snapping forward, and drove the blade into the man's armpit.
The man screamed. Haru leaped, swinging the flat of his sword at the man's head, knocking him cold.
"You're safe now. Go." Haru turned to the shaking mother and daughter.
"Thank you! Thank you!" The mother clutched her child, too rattled to question how a kid had saved them, and hurried away.
They were near the edge of the madness; beyond it, safety waited.
"What on earth is going on?"
Haru's expression hardened. "A riot this bad… Is there a magus or a Servant behind it?"
"You're so dull," Gilgamesh said, yawning. Around her lay the crumpled bodies of fools who'd dared approach. "Saving every stray; you've barely covered a kilometer in an hour. We won't reach the center by morning at this pace."
"You're really not going to help?"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed. "Just a mongrel. What, do you think you're some hero?"
"Trash is trash, worms are worms. If they want to tear each other apart, let them. I'll stand back and enjoy the show."
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
What is "evil"?
Answer: Impurity.
What is "sin"?
Answer: Unwanted desire.
What is "good"?
Answer: A single, pure thought.
If evil is ugly and foul, does that make good beautiful and clean?
If something isn't "good," is it automatically "evil"?
No. Most things aren't purely one or the other, they're a tangled mess somewhere in between.
Humans are chaotic by nature, in mind and body. There are no fixed rules or perfect examples. Everything shifts, drifting toward the unknown.
But once, in human thinking, there was a concept.
Good and evil: opposites and unable to coexist.
The divide was sharp. No gray areas, Everything could be labeled.
Not good? Then evil. Not evil? Then good.
An old belief from Zoroastrianism, where humans were crafted by gods to stand with "good" against "evil."
So humans could only be "good"; nothing else.
Then what was "evil"?
Demons, luring humans to fall; impure, unwanted. Things humans mustn't touch, speak to, or embrace.
Good and evil, light and dark. Where were these demons hiding?
No one could find them.
Doubt crept in: If there are no demons, who carries "evil"? Us?
At last, the village elders and priests found a solution.
"If there's no demon, we'll make one."
They chose a young man, blinded him, severed his tendons, cut out his tongue and left him only a nose to breathe.
People hurled stones, spat curses, named him the demon, piling every sin onto him as if he were the source of all wrong.
They cursed him endlessly that even his soul couldn't rest in death.
In their hatred, he became the root of evil, just as they intended: the "demon."
With an absolute "evil" defined, they became absolute "good."
Only ancient tablets still whisper his forbidden name, a taboo that stains just by thinking it.
– Angra Mainyu.
The "Avenger."