Part 1: Sheath that sword.
GRRZOOOOOOM! CLANK!
The elevator doors slid open with a metallic groan. Guns cocked instantly, barrels aimed at Shan as he stepped forward with Rosemary at his back. At the far corner, Hana stood with cords binding Eda's wrists and ankles, her weapon steady. Jax, Rhea, Alice, Mika, and Leo all stood tense, fingers ready to fire.
"Relax," Shan said, voice calm, almost bored. "They're already gone."
The room exhaled in relief, guns lowering one by one. Shan took another step, then stopped, eyes drifting toward the table.
"If I were you, boy, I'd sheath that sword," Shan warned. "You'll need it soon enough."
From the shadows, Haruka stepped forward, shirtless, blade in hand. Slowly, reluctantly, he slid it back into its sheath. Shan's gaze shifted to Eda.
"You let yourself get caught?" Shan asked, tone sharp.
"I was told to check on young Haruka," Eda answered, her voice polite, measured. "I did my job."
"Free yourself."
Effortlessly, Eda snapped the wires like paper, dusting herself off before walking to Shan's side.
"Let's go. Time for your training. Raito's upstairs—your mask may react," Shan warned as he stepped into the elevator. Rosemary followed, Eda right behind.
"Wait—wait!" Hana's voice cracked. She raised her gun again. "You're not taking Haruka anywhere! What the hell is going on?!"
"Hana—" Alice began.
"No!" Hana cut her off, fury in her voice. "How do we know you're not handing him to Obsidian right now?"
Rhea stepped in, her tone sharp. "She's right. Obsidian doesn't just walk into our base without some kind of connection."
"No," Alice said firmly. "I trust Shan. He's known Haruka since he was a child."
"I agree with Mom," Leo added, snapping his book shut. His eyes glowed with conviction. "We've seen Obsidian's power through Raito's mask. We have one of our own now. That means we finally have a chance to fight back."
"Exactly," Hana pressed. "We don't need Raito fighting Haruka. We need Therma united again!"
"NO!" Shan's shout shook the room, his temper slipping through his calm mask. "You do not understand Raito's hatred. You have not seen even a fraction of Thorne's power. Therma will never destroy Obsidian."
The room went silent.
Then Shan's voice softened. "…But you can help."
With that, he turned to Haruka. Wordlessly, Haruka followed him into the elevator.
Alice exhaled, glancing back at the group. "I'll tell you what Shan told us."
Later.
Inside a quiet dojo, golden sunlight bled through tall windows. The air was cold, heavy.
Haruka sat at the center of a wide tatami mat, cross-legged, bare-chested, eyes closed. His mask pulsed faintly, scales shifting like restless waves.
Shan approached with Haruka's katana, its blade glowing faintly white. He lowered himself to the floor before Haruka, holding the sword out.
"Think of your brother," Shan said quietly. "Think of the first time you saw him breathe."
Haruka remained still, eyes closed.
"The mask isn't a curse. It gave you both a second chance. Taking this sword from my hands means you accept what must be done."
He placed the katana on the mat before Haruka, then stood, moving to Alice's side. Together they watched the boy.
"What's he doing?" Alice whispered.
"Introducing the sword to his mask," Shan explained. "So it won't crush his body when he uses its power."
Alice nodded slowly. Then, after a moment of silence, she spoke again. "Shan… I need a favor."
His eyes stayed on Haruka. "Name it."
"When our base fell, I left my son at a medic station below. I haven't seen him since."
Shan blinked, surprised. "…You have children?"
"Two. My daughter… didn't survive the Fracture." Her voice wavered.
Shan's expression softened. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss. And yet, even after everything, you built a new family here." His eyes flicked toward Jax, Rhea, Mika, Leo, and Hana, bickering at the edge of the mat.
A small smile broke through Alice's grief.
"Of course, your son can stay here," Shan said firmly. Then his gaze returned to Haruka. "After all…"
Haruka's hand closed around the katana. A faint blue hue shimmered across its blade.
"…he's done it," Shan finished, smiling faintly.
Alice chuckled, pride softening her features.
"You look like a proud mother," Shan said gently before stepping toward the others.
"We start hand-to-hand combat now," Shan announced. "Not for disarming, not for beasts. But for the worst enemy you'll face—yourselves."
"I'm ready!" Jax shouted, bouncing to his feet.
Behind them, Haruka lifted the glowing katana, its pulse in rhythm with his mask.
Night.
The Fang children collapsed across the lounge, drenched in sweat, breath ragged.
"This is worse than training with Ma," Leo groaned.
"I'm going outside before I suffocate on your breath," Mika muttered, standing and slipping into the hall.
The corridor was quiet, the cold night air slipping through cracked windows. As Mika wandered, a faint buzzing caught her ear—metal, sparks, voices. She followed it to a lit doorway, peeking just enough to see.
Inside: Shan, hunched over Eda's opened forearm. Metal plates spread apart, wires and circuits exposed. Rosemary sat at a console, her fingers flying over keys.
"The new forearm lines are syncing well with your nerves," Shan said, soldering a connection.
"Sorry… I'm still not used to this body. I might've overheated it," Eda admitted softly.
"Nonsense. Today was heavy. You both did well." Shan's tone was warm, reassuring.
"Master," Rosemary called, eyes flicking from her screen. "I've always wondered… you retired after seeing Thorne back before the Fracture. Was it really that terrible?"
The room stilled. Eda looked down, silent. Shan's hands froze. Slowly, he set his tools aside and closed Eda's arm. Removing his apron, he answered in a low, final tone:
"…Yes."
He walked out. In the hall, he caught Mika's startled eyes.
"Goodnight, Mika," he said gently, before leaving her in the silence.
Part 2: Choose Wisely
Evelyne and Raito moved down the gilded hallway of Obsidian's HQ, the walls sheened obsidian purple, the carpet beneath their boots a streak of crimson trimmed in gold.
They halted when William stepped into their path.
"Where is he?" Raito asked, venom in his tone.
"You mean your father?" William's reply was sharp, needling.
Raito pushed forward, but William's hand shot out, shoving him back.
"Don't fucking touch me," Raito spat, slapping William's arm away.
William's eyes narrowed. "Where were the two of you? Tell me the truth."
"Fuck off." Raito's words hit like knives.
Evelyne looked away, guilt shadowing her face. Her silence was louder than Raito's defiance.
William shifted toward her, cornering her against the wall. His voice lowered to a counterfeit calm.
"Eve—"
"It's Evelyne to you." Raito cut in, stepping forward.
William ignored him, his voice still too measured, like it was forced through gritted teeth.
"Tell me. Was he there? Was Therma there?"
Evelyne's silence deepened, her lips pressed tight.
William's patience snapped. "Just fucking tell me!" he roared, slamming his fist against the wall beside her.
"They're not there!" Evelyne exploded, her voice slicing the tension.
William spun—just in time for Raito's fist to crash across his face, sending him reeling back.
William straightened slowly, wiping blood from his lip. His voice was a quiet promise:
"I'm going to teach you manners now."
Raito's mask pulsed faintly as he stepped forward.
"I've been waiting for this."
He lunged.
Raito's jab cut the air, but William slipped it, driving a liver punch so deep it stole Raito's breath, following with a snapping uppercut and a brutal left hook.
Raito staggered, pain flaring, but caught himself, swinging a vicious hook in return.
William hammered him back with three quick gut-shots, then spun, his fist crashing toward Raito's head.
Raito blocked and shoved him into the wall, plaster cracking under the impact.
William drove his elbow into Raito's back, knocking him to the floor. Raito groaned, forcing himself up, his fingers reaching toward his axe.
William's boot slammed into Raito's ribs, sending him skidding across the hall until he crashed against the opposite wall.
"STOP!" Evelyne's voice rang out, sharp with desperation. She had forced herself to her feet, trembling but standing.
William ignored her. He picked up Raito's axe, stepping toward him. The steel kissed Raito's throat, its edge cold against his skin.
"Thorne has been nagging me about you," William murmured, dragging the blade just enough for Raito's pulse to feel it. "Your behaviour. Your rebellion. And he told me about H.O.T."
"So what?" Raito rasped, defiant even through the pain. "Evelyne almost died. We made a promise."
William's gaze flickered—half amusement, half threat. "You're slipping away from Obsidian. From the man who raised you like his own son."
"I'm not betraying Thorne!" Raito snarled, fury tightening his throat.
"I said stop!" Evelyne cried again, her voice breaking.
William exhaled, finally stepping back. He let the axe fall to the floor with a metallic clatter.
His words were calm now, but the look he gave Evelyne lingered too long, carrying an unspoken threat.
"We'll see."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving silence in his wake.
Part 3: The Market?
CREEEEAK… STOMP… THUMP.
Phillip staggered through the ruin of what had once been a house, his clothes torn, his face smeared with dirt and sweat. The long run from Obsidian had stripped him down to desperation.
The place groaned around him. Walls leaned as if one breath could topple them, the chandelier above swayed on a single chain, scattering the moonlight in fractured glints across the warped wooden floor. The wind hissed through a shattered window, making the whole structure shudder like it was alive.
Phillip dropped to his knees when he spotted it—a half-crushed bottle on the floor. His fingers snatched it up and he drank greedily, the water spilling down his chin as if it were gold.
CREEEK.
He froze. The sound came from the next room, deeper in the dark. His hand fumbled for the only weapon he had: a screwdriver, its tip rusted but sharp enough to hurt if he swung hard.
"Who's there?" he croaked, his voice cracking.
Soft steps. Light. Unhurried. They grew louder until a figure slipped into the moonbeam cutting through the window.
It was a girl. Thirteen at most. A thick, ragged brown scarf wrapped around her neck, a sleeveless red shirt clung to her small frame, and her jeans were torn at the knees. A worn backpack hung from her shoulders.
Relief washed over Phillip, his grip on the screwdriver loosening.
"Oh… just a little girl," he exhaled, almost laughing from the release of tension.
Her brows knit together, her voice sharper than he expected.
"Little girl?"
Phillip swallowed, nervous. "Sorry. Uh… do you know the way to the Market?" His words came out jittered, polite but trembling.
At that, she tilted her head. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"The Market?" she echoed, her tone far too casual.
Phillip's stomach turned cold. The shadows behind her stirred.
A hulking shape began to unfold, towering three times her size. Its outline rippled like muscle bound in darkness, its heavy breaths filling the room. Moonlight barely grazed its bulk, revealing only the glint of something wet across its shoulders.
Phillip stumbled back, the screwdriver shaking in his hand, his eyes darting between the girl's smirk and the abyss looming over her.