Darkness.
Evelyne's eyes fluttered open to a ceiling of cloud-white marble, streaked with golden veins of wealth and power.
A soft groan left her lips as she rolled to her side. In the far corner of her chamber, a tall mirror loomed like a silent sentinel. Evelyne, fourteen years old now, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her pale feet brushing the cold floor.
"Today's the day, huh…" she muttered, rising and facing her reflection. Her body was lean, tuned, trained—but the face staring back at her was still that of a girl.
Then it came.
Gunfire. Screams. Wails of death clawing at her ears—phantoms from memory.
BAM!
The knock thundered in sync with a gunshot in her head, snapping her back to the present. Two softer raps followed.
"Come in," Evelyne commanded, voice steadier than she felt.
The golden-framed door swung open. A maid in a crisp black uniform stepped in, bowing before closing the door with quiet discipline.
"Good morning, Lady Evelyne," she said softly. "Lord Thorne has ordered me to escort you to the armoury."
"Morning, Ms. Baker." Evelyne forced a smile, pushing herself off the bed. "Bit early. Haven't even had breakfast."
"Lord Thorne suggests a light snack will suffice," the maid replied, opening the door for her. Evelyne walked out, Ms. Baker following at her heel.
The vast halls stretched ahead—walls of obsidian, rugs of crimson, portraits framed in gold. Evelyne's eyes drifted upward as she asked, "Have you ever been outside?"
"I have," the maid answered. "I once worked as a secretary for one of Obsidian's executives."
"And… you've fought them? Zombies?" Evelyne pressed, her voice smaller this time.
"Yes. Too many to count."
Evelyne's steps slowed. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. "Any tips? I'm… kind of nervous."
Ms. Baker placed a steadying hand on her bare shoulder. "Fear has two paths. You can run before you learn to walk, or you can walk before you learn to run. Both will move you forward. But only walking teaches you how to stand."
The words lingered in the hall's silence. Evelyne drew a breath, nodding. "I'll keep that in mind."
She lifted her gaze—then froze.
Up ahead stood Raito. Fifteen now. His crimson hair hung to his shoulders, scars etched across his lean, muscular frame. His eyes didn't even flicker toward her, fixed instead on some distant point only he could see. Eyes of a boy long broken.
Beside him, William smiled kindly. "Morning, Eve."
Evelyne blinked, then returned a soft, almost shy, "Morning, William."
"Now, now," Ms. Baker said sweetly. "We must keep moving."
Evelyne and Ms. Baker turned down the corridor, stopping before a towering black gate, its surface etched with veins of steel.
"Is this the armoury?" Evelyne asked.
"Half of it," Ms. Baker replied, stepping to a keypad built into the wall. "The other half is where Sir William has been sent." Her fingers danced across the keys.
GROOOOAN.
The massive gate shuddered before lifting inch by inch, its cry echoing like some ancient beast. Beyond it stretched a cavernous hall—rows of cages and lockers overflowing with rifles, explosives, blades. Ammunition boxes towered on crates, stacked like bricks in a fortress of war.
Evelyne's eyes widened. "Why two armouries?"
"Too many soldiers for just one," Ms. Baker answered plainly.
They stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of oil and cold steel. Evelyne trailed her fingers along the edge of a crate, eyes darting at the endless weapons. "Where's my armour?"
"In your room," Ms. Baker replied smoothly, pressing another panel on the wall. With a hiss, a smaller steel door unlatched and slid open.
"Wait—then why bring me here?" Evelyne asked, turning on her heel.
"Your weapon, milady." Ms. Baker's voice halted her. "Your armour will be delivered shortly. But your scythe has only just finished being reforged. We'll collect it first." She nudged Evelyne gently forward.
Another door loomed ahead, framed in gold. With a hiss and a click, it swung wide. Evelyne's breath caught.
Inside stood her armour.
It rose from its stand like a knight's eternal guardian—gleaming plates of cloud-white steel trimmed with lightning-blue streaks. A skirt of deep midnight purple draped beneath the armor, adding both elegance and menace. The pauldrons were broad and unyielding, the gauntlets heavy yet refined. It was old-world chivalry reborn in the fire of futurism.
For a heartbeat, Evelyne could only stare.
"Milady," Ms. Baker's voice softened behind her. "Now that you're dressed, it is time. Lord Thorne awaits you at the gate—for his speech."
Evelyne's armour gleamed faintly under the artificial lights as she stepped beside Ms. Baker. The steel plates moved with a faint hiss, the skirt swaying just above her boots. Ahead of them, William waited, with Raito standing silent at his back.
"I'll take her from here," William said. Ms. Baker bowed gracefully before turning on her heel, disappearing down the hall.
William's gaze swept over Evelyne. "Looking fierce," he muttered with the shadow of a smirk.
"Thank you," Evelyne replied, adjusting her gauntlet unconsciously.
The sound of heavy boots thundered outside, matched with the rumble of engines. Then, as if by command, it all fell silent.
"Looks like he's here," William said.
They stood before a tall pair of steel doors leading to a balcony. William's hand lingered on the handle. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Evelyne gave a single nod.
The doors groaned open. Wind rushed in, catching the edges of a long purple cape. Lord Thorne stood at the forefront, cape fluttering, posture unshakable. William moved behind him, and Evelyne's eyes caught the figure beside Thorne.
Raito.
His red hair, braided and tied into a neat ponytail, contrasted Evelyne's messy white one. No armour adorned him—only a battered brown coat over bare skin, worn jeans, and at his side, a massive axe. Midnight-purple steel lined with glowing crimson veins pulsed faintly as if alive.
He turned toward Evelyne slowly, eyes narrowing as they scanned her from head to toe. "Morning," he muttered, voice low.
Evelyne only clenched her scythe tighter.
Together, they walked out to stand beside Thorne on the balcony.
Below them stretched a sea of soldiers, knee to the ground, lined in formation. Armoured vehicles bristling with mounted weapons idled, engines humming. The sight struck Evelyne's chest with both weight and wonder.
"Obsidian!" Thorne's voice rolled like thunder.
The soldiers rose as one, backs straight, fists to their chests. Every head turned upward toward their leader.
"It has come to my attention," Thorne declared, "that there remains a corner of this city untouched by our reach. Why? Because a tide of the dead shields it. A horde—mindless, endless, festering." His voice hardened, echoing across the walls.
"But the tide has shifted. They march toward us now. And so, we march first. Today, we strike down the swarm, and claim the ground they crawl upon. Today, you will witness something more—our future."
He turned slightly, cape snapping in the wind, his gaze falling on Raito and Evelyne.
"The son. The daughter. Today they stand before you, not as children, but as soldiers of Obsidian. Their first trial begins. And in their trial… you will see proof. Proof that the blood of Obsidian will carry on—unyielding, unbroken!"
The soldiers erupted in a roar, a tide of voices shaking the steel beneath Evelyne's boots.
Thorne lifted a hand. Silence fell. He pivoted, brushing past the siblings. "Let's go."
Evelyne glanced at William. "When are we getting briefed on the mission?"
"That was it," William said simply.
The crowd parted as Thorne led them down the steps. Soldiers pulled back, forming a corridor, eyes following the trio as they climbed into the armoured convoy. Evelyne sat stiffly across from Raito, her scythe resting against her knees.
The ride was a blur of steel and thunder. Engines roared. Guns rattled. The air smelled of iron and oil. Evelyne's grip on her weapon tightened until her knuckles whitened.
Then—the convoy slowed. Vehicles ahead surged forward, unleashing fire into the distance. The rattle of machine guns tore through the air. The ground shook.
"Hold," William ordered as the truck came to a grinding stop.
The back door creaked open. Evelyne's heart hammered as she stepped out into the night air. Ahead, she saw them.
The horde.
Hundreds of twisted, staggering forms, their groans rising into an unholy chorus. The forward vehicles peeled aside, forming a barrier line of steel. The soldiers tightened formation, a living wall with rifles raised. Gunfire thinned the mass, but still they pressed, snarling, clawing, unending.
Thorne's boots sank into the dirt as he strode ahead. "Three hundred left," he said evenly. "Your task is simple. Clear them."
He stopped, turning to his children. "Show me."
The wall split, opening a path toward the writhing horde.
Raito hefted his axe, its crimson veins burning brighter. With a growl, he lunged forward, crashing into the swarm. His weapon cleaved through bone and rotting flesh, scattering corpses like leaves.
Evelyne hung back, her breath steady. Ms. Baker's words echoed in her mind. She unsheathed her scythe with a hiss, its blade catching the dim light.
Then she moved.
Her steps were swift, precise. Where Raito smashed, Evelyne carved—sweeping arcs that severed necks cleanly, each strike efficient, measured. She weaved between the dead, her movements flowing like a dance of death.
Side by side, they cut down dozens. The ground grew slick with blood and rot. But the horde pressed closer, relentless, endless. Their breath grew ragged, limbs heavy, armour stained crimson.
Evelyne staggered back, her scythe dripping. Raito leaned on his axe, chest heaving.
"Too many," Evelyne panted.
Raito spat blood, grinning despite the exhaustion. "We'll need something stronger… something to wipe them clean."
The horde closed in, the wall trembling.
"Raito, you can't use too much fire right now, can you?" Evelyne asked, scanning the endless horde.
"I can," Raito said, straightening his stance, axe resting heavy at his side. "Should I?"
Evelyne shook her head. "No. I need you at full strength… so…" She hesitated, gears in her head spinning.
"What's on your mind, Eve?" Raito asked, lifting his axe again, ready for the next wave.
Her eyes widened—an idea striking.
"Can you control fire?" she asked.
Raito blinked, then smirked faintly. "Never tried. But what choice do I have?"
Evelyne turned, spotting a grenade clipped to an Obsidian soldier's belt. She ripped it free and shoved it into Raito's line of sight.
"Don't waste your energy creating fire from nothing," she said firmly. "Ignite it. Expand it. Amplify what's already there. Less strain."
A crooked grin spread across Raito's face, his once-neat braid loosening as stray red strands fell over his eyes.
"It has to work," he muttered.
"Focus on the grenade. The moment it blows, you seize the fire. Ready?" Evelyne asked.
Raito gave a single nod.
She thumbed the pin, the small red light flashing ominously. With all her strength, she hurled it into the horde's center.
From atop a vehicle, Thorne leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"What are you plotting, Evelyne…" he murmured.
The flashing light quickened. Raito's gaze locked onto it, unwavering. Meanwhile, Evelyne ripped a pistol from a fallen soldier and picked off the zombies closing in, buying Raito precious seconds.
The grenade neared detonation. Evelyne dove behind Raito, hands over her head.
BOOOOM!
The grenade erupted—
—and then, as the cylinders on Raito's mask glowed red and hissed steam—
BOOOOOOOOM!
The blast doubled, tripled, fire consuming everything. The ground shook violently, and zombie flesh rained down in burning chunks. Smoke towered skyward, leaving only a crater where the horde once stood.
Evelyne scrambled up and grabbed Raito's steaming shoulders.
"Are you okay? Feel drained?"
Raito flexed his fingers, eyes wide with something between awe and joy.
"No… it only stung for a moment. I'm fine." He laughed breathlessly, pulling her into a sudden hug.
Evelyne froze—then melted into the moment. The dread that had weighed on her since their arrival was gone. For the first time, she felt relief.
"Not bad for a warm-up," she teased, sheathing her scythe. "That was the mission?"
Raito shook his head, smirk fading. "Knowing Father? That was nothing. The real test comes now."
A slow clap broke the moment. Thorne approached, cape dragging through ash.
"Impressive," he said coolly. "Now for the real challenge." He raised one gloved finger skyward.
Obsidian soldiers snapped into formation, vehicles roaring to life, tearing through smoldering corpses. Thorne's armored transport halted before the two, door swinging open.
"The warm-up is over," he said, eyes gleaming. "Now we test your resolve."
Later
The convoy screeched to a halt before a towering wooden barricade. Guard towers loomed overhead, rifles glinting in the light.
"Turn back!" one guard barked from above.
Thorne sighed, reclining in his seat. "I'm growing impatient…" His voice carried an icy finality.
Evelyne tensed, unsure what that meant—until Raito swung the door open.
"We'll find a way in," he muttered, stepping into the open. Evelyne followed. Behind them, Raito raised a hand—the signal. In perfect rhythm, Obsidian soldiers marched forward, filling the road with steel and boots.
Evelyne blinked. "Wait… they follow you?"
"They follow us," Raito corrected grimly.
He squinted up at the guards, jaw tightening. "Eve, you handle the talking. I'm no good at it."
One soldier fetched a megaphone at Evelyne's request. She lifted it nervously.
"Uh—my name is Evelyne. We're with Obsidian. My father—"
"What do you want?" the guard interrupted.
"Let us in before we—" Raito barked, cutting her off.
"No! Stop!" Evelyne shoved him back, flustered. "My father wants to speak with you. To explain who we are."
The guard's voice boomed down. "Go back. You're not welcome here."
"Please, just—" Evelyne tried again, but Raito ripped the megaphone from her and tossed it to a soldier.
"Don't waste your breath." He grabbed Evelyne's hand, pulling her aside. His voice dropped low. "Watch."
With a thunderous roar, Thorne's armored truck plowed through the barricade, splinters flying. Obsidian soldiers surged in behind, opening fire without hesitation.
Evelyne's stomach dropped as she stepped through the wreckage. The settlement beyond was a patchwork of old wooden houses and crumbling modern ruins. Families screamed, chaos erupting.
"I… I still don't understand our mission," Evelyne whispered, clutching her scythe.
Raito didn't look at her. His eyes burned forward. "It's obvious. We're killing them."
Evelyne froze. "But… why? What did they do?"
"They've been smuggling our weapons. Funding groups like Therma," Raito said flatly.
The surviving villagers were dragged from their homes, forced into a ragged line under the muzzle of Obsidian rifles. Men, women, even children clung to one another, trembling as ash and smoke filled the air.
From the armored truck, Thorne emerged slowly, his boots thudding against the dirt. His mere presence silenced the cries of the villagers.
"Someone here," he began, voice like steel dragged against stone, "thought it wise to steal from Obsidian. Weapons. Resources. To fund our enemies."
Silence. The villagers kept their eyes low, none daring to speak.
Thorne smirked, tilting his head toward Evelyne and Raito.
"Show them the cost of silence."
Raito's jaw clenched. For a moment, Evelyne thought he'd hesitate. Instead, he moved. In a blur, his hand clamped around a man's throat. The villager's eyes bulged—then in a violent hiss of fire and steam, his body turned to ash. The pile of what he once was drifted to the dirt.
Screams erupted. Mothers covered their children's faces.
"Talk," Thorne barked.
Finally, voices broke. A trembling man stumbled forward, falling to his knees.
"It was us! W-we smuggled your weapons! Please—we'll return everything, I swear! Spare us!"
Thorne's cold gaze slid to Evelyne.
"Your decision, daughter."
Her eyes widened. "M-me?"
"Yes." He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "This is the very same group… the ones who caused your brother's death. The reason your mother abandoned you. Their hands are stained with your family's blood."
The world around Evelyne fell away. The villagers' faces blurred. All she could hear was the roar of her heartbeat, the echo of Thorne's words twisting inside her chest.
Her hand trembled as it gripped her scythe. She looked at them—begging, pleading faces—and for one fragile second, she hesitated.
Then her grief turned to fury.
The scythe swung.
Blood painted the dirt. One after another, Evelyne cut them down, her screams mingling with theirs until there was only silence. Her breaths came ragged, her hands shaking as her weapon dripped crimson.
Thorne's eyes glimmered with dark satisfaction. He turned to Raito.
"Burn it all."
Raito stepped forward, raising his hands. Flames surged at his command, licking across wooden homes, consuming everything. But the fire fought him as much as he wielded it—his arms trembling, skin blistering, his mask steaming red-hot. Evelyne moved to steady him, grabbing his shoulders.
"Raito…"
His flames spread wider, turning the settlement into a furnace of screams and smoke. Evelyne stood beside him, watching the inferno reflect in her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She whispered to herself, voice breaking:
"I'll destroy Therma. I'll find her… I'll find my mother."
Raito's body gave out, collapsing into her arms just as the firestorm consumed the last remnants of the village.
And in an instant, the memory shattered.
The present slammed back into view: Evelyne on her knees in the chaos of HOT's downfall, explosions and gunfire surrounding her. Raito, once again, stood at the center of an inferno—only this time, his body failing him, flames burning him from the inside out. Evelyne's cries broke through the battlefield as she reached for him, grief crashing over her like a tide.