Fred and Hakka, they moved like shadows across the globe—Fred and the ancient serpent coiled within him. City after city. Country after country. Every fracture left behind the same eerie remnants: shimmering distortions in the air, whispers of wrongness that clung to the edges of reality like rot.
Hakka called them *seeds*.
And seeds, if left unchecked, would grow.
---
In a back alley of Tokyo, Fred pressed his palm against a patch of crumbling brick. The wall pulsed faintly, veins of black ichor spreading beneath the surface like roots.
***"Hold still,"*** Hakka murmured.
Fred's hand burned as the serpent's power surged through him. The corruption hissed, recoiling—then dissolved into nothingness. The bricks smoothed over, as if the wound had never existed.
A passerby stumbled, blinking at the wall. For a moment, they had *felt* something. A pressure. A whisper. Then—nothing.
Just another forgotten corner of the world.
---
Hakka had explained it plainly:
***"Chaos is not just energy. It is hunger. It seeks anchors—minds, flesh, places where reality is thin. Those who linger near it… change."***
Fred had seen it once. A man in Cairo, his eyes hollow, his skin splitting with the same black veins. He had been mumbling in a language that didn't exist, his fingers clawing at the air as if trying to peel it open.
Hakka had erased him too. Not his existence but the chaos sprout in his soul.
Fred hadn't asked what happened to the man's soul.
Some questions were better left unanswered.
---
Nights were the worst.
In cheap motel rooms or atop wind-scarred rooftops, Fred would stare at the stars and ask the same question:
"Who's doing this?"
Hakka's silence was answer enough.
Even an ancient serpent didn't know.
But the fractures were spreading.
And the disappearances?
They were no longer just *people*.
Whole streets. Buildings. Even memories.
Vanishing without a trace.
Days blurred . No matter how fast Fred moved—no matter how many fractures they sealed—they were always one step behind.
Light-speed travel. Erased remnants of Chaos. Cities saved, then lost again.
And Hakka—*Hakka was furious.*
---
Fred's body went rigid as Hakka *surged* forward, seizing control. His vision whited out. His bones groaned under the weight of something infinitely heavier than the universe.
Then—
A *sound.*
A single, resonant chime, soft as a whisper yet louder than creation itself.
The universe heard it.
For the briefest instant, Fred's body *fractured.* Cracks spiderwebbed across his skin, glowing with the same abyssal darkness that Hakka was made of. Blood and something far older spilled between the seams.
He was the strongest being in the world.
And yet, he couldn't even hold *a fraction* of Hakka's true power.
Then—
***Release.***
Fred gasped as his body slammed back into itself, the cracks sealing instantly. His knees hit the ground, his lungs burning.
Hakka's voice was a storm.
***"Found it."***
---
And then—Hakka *laughed.*
A sound so vast, so *alien,* that the air trembled around them.
***"Hahahaha! HOW DARE THEY?!"***
Fred coughed, his voice raw. "What the hell—?"
***"A *vestige.* A *Tear of Past and Future.*"*** Hakka hissed, the words laced with something between fury and awe. ***"An artifact that should not exist. A tool that bends time itself to the will of its wielder."***
Fred's head spun. "You're saying someone's *stopping time* to plant these fractures?"
***"Not stopping. *Stealing.* Fragments of moments that never were. Patching them into reality like a child stitching rotten cloth."***
Fred's blood ran cold. "Who could even *do* that?"
Hakka's silence was answer enough.
---
Then, without warning, Hakka retreated—not just from Fred's body, but *deeper.*
Into his *soul.*
Fred's vision flickered. For a moment, he stood in an endless expanse—a sky without horizon, clear and infinite.
Hakka's massive form coiled in the distance, its obsidian scales shimmering. Then, with a flick of its tail, it *wrote* in the air—symbols older than language, older than time itself.
The words *burned* into the sky.
Then collapsed into Fred's being.
He gasped as something *shifted* inside him.
A change.
A *mark.*
Hakka's voice echoed, final.
***"Now, you will *see* them."***
---
Fred blinked.
He was back in the ruined remains of another fracture site.
But something was different.
The air *shimmered*—not with Chaos, but with something else.
*Faint. Fleeting. Like footsteps in time.*
Hakka's voice was a whisper.
Fred grinned.
Finally—a *trail.*
Fred stood amidst the ruins of another fracture, the air still humming with residual wrongness. Now that they knew the source—the *Tear of Past and Future*—the hunt had taken on a new urgency.
"You could've done that *days ago*," Fred muttered, flexing his fingers. The mark Hakka had left in his soul pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat.
Hakka's presence coiled in response, a slow, irritated ripple.
***"The artifact was not just hidden—it was being used *beyond* this realm. A place far greater, far older than this world."***
Fred frowned. "So you couldn't sense it?"
***"I was not *looking* for it,"*** Hakka admitted, though the words carried no regret. ***"I did not think such a thing would still exist. Let alone be wielded by parasites."***
Fred exhaled sharply. "And now?"
***"Now, they cannot hide."***
---
Fred hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at him.
"What happens if you come out? Fully, I mean. Not just… borrowing my body."
The silence stretched. Then—
***"This world is a leaf in the wind compared to what I am, Fred. My mere presence would unravel it. The air would forget how to breathe. The oceans would turn to void. Time itself would *splinter* under my weight."***
Fred's throat went dry. "So you're stuck in my soul."
***"For now."***
---
Fred's thoughts circled back to the hollow in Antarctica—the *One* formation. The place where this had all begun.
"What about the formation? You said it was a creation of your… *Creator*."
Hakka's presence stilled.
***"A creation of the Creator cannot question *why*,"*** the serpent said, its voice quieter now. ***"It simply *is*."***
Fred pressed. "But you *are* questioning. You're looking for answers."
Another pause. Longer. Heavier.
***"Perhaps that is why I was left behind."***
The words hung in the air, bitter and ancient.
Fred didn't ask again.
---
The mark in Fred's soul burned brighter.
Somewhere, the *Tear* was being used again.
Somewhere, another fracture was forming.
Fred cracked his neck.
"Let's go."
Hakka's laughter was a dark, hungry thing.
***"Run, little thieves,"*** it whispered to the unseen ones. ***"We are coming."***
----
Shanghai, Metro Station – China.
The world stood still.
Fred hovered in the air, his coat drifting lazily as if caught in an unfelt breeze. Below him, the metro station was frozen—commuters mid-step, a spilled coffee suspended in droplets, the flicker of digital ads halted on a single frame.
And then—
***CRACK.***
The sound was unbearable. A screech that would have liquefied human ears had time not been frozen. Behind the girl at the platform's edge, reality *shattered*, splintering like glass under a hammer.
Out stepped the *Dānavas.*
Tall. Gaunt. Skin like sun-baked clay stretched over sinew and bone. Their wings—skeletal, jagged—twitched as they laughed, the sound guttural, *wrong.*
The horned one grabbed the girl by her hair, dragging her toward the fracture.
Fred watched.
Hakka hummed in his mind.
***"Oh. Echoes. And a lesser Dānava."***
Then—
Fred *flickered.*
---
One moment, he was above.
The next—
The girl was slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice.
And in his left hand, clutched like rotten fruit, was the Dānava's severed wrist.
The laughter died.
All three demons froze, their hollow eyes snapping up to Fred.
He stared at the twitching, black-bloodied hand in his grip.
"Ugh." His nose wrinkled. "*Disgusting.*"
A thought. A spark.
The hand *burned*, vanishing into nothing before even ashes could form.
Fred lowered himself until he floated just above the platform, his boots not quite touching the ground.
The Dānavas trembled.
Hakka chuckled.
***"Look at them. *Fearing.*"***
---
The horned Dānava hissed, its jaw unhinging as it spat a string of guttural clicks and growls.
Fred blinked.
"...What."
More snarling.
Fred held up a finger. "Wait. Let me turn on auto-translate. I don't understand *shit* you're saying."
He *snapped* his fingers.
A pulse of Hakka's power rippled out.
The Dānava's next words came through clear—
***"—YOU DARE INTERFERE, MORTAL?!"***
Fred sighed. "Yeah, that's better."
---
The Dānava lunged.
Fred sighed again.
Then—
*Violence.*