Screams tore through the air like jagged glass.
Above the city, the once-pristine winter sky cracked apart into jagged ribbons of bright, venomous purple and deep, swirling indigo. Flashes of lightning arced upward instead of down, like the very air was being devoured by some unseen maw. The wind howled, twisting and spiraling, pulling loose snow, leaves, and dust into a vortex that spun toward the fractured heavens.
Below, chaos erupted. Civilians ran through the streets, their panicked cries echoing against the marble walls and steel girders of the city. Already, small, writhing threads of violet energy licked along the cobblestones, spreading like roots, corrupting whatever they touched. Flowerbeds bloomed into monstrous shapes before withering to ash; lamplights flickered and burst, showering sparks on the fleeing crowd.
Inside the grand library that Otto called his office, the first shockwave rattled the bookshelves so violently that volumes tumbled to the floor. Chris's massive frame moved first—his hand shooting out, grabbing Otto by the collar of his immaculate suit and hauling him upward until their faces were inches apart.
"What have you done!?" Chris's voice was a thunderclap, raw and accusing.
Otto's face was pale, his eyes wide, genuinely unsure. "I— I don't know! The machine was only meant to—"
Chris snarled, shaking him hard enough to snap the man's head forward. "I was balancing the technology with the other side of the world! It was the only way to keep it stable!"
The words hit Otto like a strike to the gut. "What—?" His shock turned to fury in an instant. "Why didn't you tell us!?"
"I did! I told you 'no!'" Chris barked back, his grip unrelenting.
"You didn't say why!" Otto's voice cracked, his own hands shoving at Chris's chest.
"Good soldiers follow orders!" Chris's roar reverberated through the shelves.
"We aren't your soldiers!" Otto's voice matched the volume, eyes blazing with fury and betrayal.
The tension was broken by the sharp snap of leather gloves as Kallen forced herself between them, planting a hand on each man's chest. "Enough! Both of you!" Her voice was firm, but it wavered under the sound of the chaos outside. "This isn't the time. We don't have the luxury to fight each other right now!"
They froze—but only for a heartbeat.
The next moment, the library doors exploded inward in a hail of splintered wood and brass hinges.
What stepped—or rather, ran—through was unlike any natural beast. The Honkai corruption had twisted it into something grotesque. A centaur-like frame, its four iron-shod legs pounding the marble floor, was topped not by a rider's torso, but by an enormous brass-and-bone chest that housed a ribcage glowing with violet light. Steam hissed from vents along its spine, and its head was a warped mockery of a knight's helm—elongated, the visor split open into a vertical, jaw-like maw filled with serrated metal teeth. Purple sparks cascaded from its joints with each movement, and when it roared, it was a chorus of shrieking violins and metal scraping metal.
Chris didn't hesitate. His eyes narrowed, and he dropped Otto like dead weight. The next instant, his body blurred into motion—his fists clenched, his skin shimmering as it hardened into something dark and metallic, harder than steel. He met the beast head-on, shattering one of its legs in a single, brutal strike. The corrupted brass and bone cracked, and a spray of violet ichor hissed against the floor.
The beast reeled back to strike again, but Chris's hand shot forward, plunging through its armored chest and yanking free the glowing core. The thing shrieked, convulsed, and then collapsed in on itself with a hiss of steam and the stench of burning metal.
He dropped the core without looking at it, already turning toward the others. "Kallen—you're on evacuation duty. Get the civilians to the inner quarter and lock it down. Now."
Kallen nodded sharply and sprinted out the side door without hesitation.
"Otto—" Chris's gaze cut to him like a blade. "You're taking what's left of the guards and pushing the corruption back. Kill everything infected. Find the Herrscher if they're here."
Otto adjusted his collar, his face tight, but he gave a curt nod. "Understood."
Then Chris's gaze landed on Kiana, who stood frozen by the toppled chess table, her fists trembling. "And you—"
For once, there was no bark, no roar. Just a weight in his voice, heavy and certain. "…Do what you believe in. Go."
Kiana's breath caught in her throat, but before she could speak, Chris turned away and leapt back into the fray.
From the ruined doors, the streets outside were already overrun—beasts of twisted brass and flesh tearing through the air in shrieking flocks, smaller creatures skittering along walls, bursting through windows. Chris waded into them without hesitation, his weapon shifting with every motion—a greatsword in one swing, a spear in the next, then a hammer that smashed an entire knot of creatures into the cobblestone.
Gunfire erupted from his forearms, followed by the metallic clack of reloading mechanisms folding into his own flesh. He didn't slow, didn't falter, even as violet ichor sprayed across his body and burned into the stone beneath his boots.
Everywhere he moved, destruction followed—not just to the beasts, but to the streets, the walls, the very city he swore to protect. And yet he kept fighting, as if nothing else mattered.
-
Kiana swallowed hard, her throat dry. Chris's words—Do what you believe in—rattled in her chest. She gave a sharp nod, though she doubted he even saw it, and broke into a sprint past his towering figure.
The street outside was a blur of motion—civilians screaming, glass shattering, the sharp smell of ozone and burning brass filling her nose. But even as she ran, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder.
Chris stood in the middle of the chaos, his massive frame an unmovable wall against the tide of beasts. They swarmed toward him in snapping, shrieking waves—half-brass, half-flesh monstrosities whose claws sparked on the cobblestones.
One lunged at him from the side, its maw a gaping sawblade of jagged teeth. Chris pivoted mid-step, bringing his forearm up just in time to block the strike. Metal shrieked against his flesh, but he didn't simply shove it away—he grabbed its head, twisted hard enough to snap its spine, and used its body as a bludgeon to crush another charging beast.
Then, out of nowhere, a massive creature—its back lined with rows of steaming vents—leapt at him from behind. Kiana's breath caught as the thing's claws pierced his side, cutting deep enough to spray a hiss of silver-red blood across the snow.
For anyone else, that would've been the end.
But Chris… didn't even slow down.
Instead, Kiana watched in stunned horror as the silver sheen of his blood darkened, the wound knitting shut in seconds. The plates along his ribs shifted, thickened, and fused until they formed an impenetrable ridge of armor. The next time a similar beast leapt at him, its claws simply snapped on impact, shattering like brittle glass.
Chris roared—half man, half beast—and slammed forward, tackling the new attacker into a knot of four others. They went down in a thunderclap of steel, snow, and stone, his massive arms crushing skulls, tearing joints apart. One tried to scramble away, but he stomped it flat without even looking, eyes already searching for the next threat.
The monsters seemed to sense it—his ability, his relentlessness. A dozen more circled him now, their strange brass-and-flesh heads tilting in eerie unison. Their glowing purple eyes burned in the swirling snow.
Chris didn't raise his fists. Didn't shout. He simply reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a small, gleaming silver cross. Its edges caught the fractured light of the sky above.
"…Forgive me, Visage," he murmured, voice low, almost reverent. "It seems I failed you after all."
For just a heartbeat, Kiana saw something human in his stance—a weight, a regret that even his monstrous strength couldn't crush.
Then he moved.
He charged into the waiting horde with a speed that didn't belong to a man his size, the ground cracking under each step. The first beast went down to a hammerblow that folded its chest in like paper. The second was split clean in half by a shifting blade that erupted from his gauntlet. The third was impaled and thrown into the others like a spear, scattering them across the street.
Every strike was different—adapted perfectly to the opponent in front of him. If claws threatened, armor thickened. If jaws lunged, his arm became a spiked shield. If something tried to flee, his legs launched him like a cannonball to crush it mid-leap.
The snow around him was no longer white. It was blackened with ash, splattered with violet ichor, the air thick with the smell of burning brass and seared flesh.
Kiana forced herself to look away, clenching her fists as she ran toward the inner quarter. Chris could handle the monsters. But if she did nothing—if she let herself be paralyzed like before—then she'd be no better than the ones who simply accepted this world's rules.
She had no idea what awaited her ahead. But her path was her own, now.
And she wasn't going to waste it.