My footsteps echoed softly through the wreckage—concrete ruins and twisted steel frames rising around me like the bones of a dead world.
The rain had stopped, but the sour stench of stagnant water still clung to the air, biting at my senses.
Far ahead, the Western District loomed in silence—shrouded in the shadows of crumbling buildings and the ghosts of war.
But before I crossed the district's threshold, I veered off course—toward a place that once housed the elite.
Now, it was just another dark corridor of memory, echoing with bitterness.
It was where one of the former leaders of this broken world once lived.
A name I could never forget.
Asagiri Renma.
That's what I've always called her.
Ren The goddess of chaos.
Once so full of fire—reckless, fearless, unpredictable.
But the world had changed.
And so had she.
I walked the alley that now sheltered a handful of survivors, those who had clung to her for safety.
My pace slowed as I neared the edge of their camp—until something sent a chill crawling up my spine.
Laughter.
Not joyous laughter.
Wild. Broken. Mad.
"She's back in her cage again," one of the survivors muttered with a tired sigh.
As if it were nothing new.
As if madness had a schedule here.
"Her sadness runs deeper than ours," said an old man, dragging on a cigarette like it was his final breath. "Let her laugh. It's all she has left."
I followed the sound—through the wreckage, around a broken corridor, until I found it.
A cage.
Surrounded by rusted bars.
And inside of it... It's Ren.
She sat hunched over, back curved, body slack. Her white and red hair was a tangled mess. Her clothes torn, stained. Her eyes weren't red with anger—they were red from crying for far too long.
That laugh—it wasn't joy.
It was the scream of a soul that had shattered.
"A party! It's all a party!" she shouted through laughter.
"A party of chaos! Look around you—the world's finally dancing with me! Hahaha!"
My throat tightened.
The sight of her—fragile, broken, stained by grief—tore something out of me.
She looked up, eyes wild, and slammed her chains against the bars. And make The sound rang out like a cry for help.
"Raze! Raze? Is that really you? The brave White Dragon? Hahaha!" She pointed at me, laughing, but her tears said everything.
"You're still alive? That's... that's amazing. I thought we'd all been buried with this damn system."
I stepped closer, standing just outside the cage.
"Ren..." Her name fell from my lips like a wound.
"You know, Raze?" she croaked, voice cracked and raw.
"I used to run this world. Me, as the mistress of chaos! But look at me now... caged. In my own damn cage! HAHAHA!"
Her laughter crumbled into sobs. Her breath ragged, her body trembling.
I pressed my palm to the cold iron bars.
"I'm here, Ren," I said softly. "You're not alone."
She fell silent, hugging herself tightly.
As if her own arms were all that kept her from vanishing into the void.
"It's useless, Raze... I'm useless. They're all gone. I couldn't save any of them..."
Her voice broke. The laughter was gone. Only tears remained.
I bit my lip. The pain in my chest felt like knives made of guilt. This woman—this chaotic force that once shook the world—was now reduced to dust and whispers.
"Ren... I'm looking for them. The group called ADVENT. Do you know anything?"
She looked down. Whispered.
"ADVENT... they were my last light. They weren't just rebels. They were family."
I stood in silence as her eyes drifted to memories that lived only in her mind now.
"You knew them too, Raze," she continued, voice faint.
"They were the Gen-3Ner0 unit. Led by Shella The Guardian of Fate. That woman... she held more secrets than anyone. Cold, calm, brilliant, and terrifying when she needed to be."
I memorized the name. I remembered Shella. She is the calm before every storm.
"Rissa Veirncroft," Ren added, with eyes flickering. "The Siren of the Demon Sea. Her voice was beautiful... but her songs can killed all of the creatures ini this world."
She looked up again, and this time, her eyes weren't empty. They were searching. Begging me to remember.
"Virly and Vanny. Sisters. The Hounders. Virly was gentle. Vanny was so brave. They taught me that even chaos needs love."
Ren paused, her voice fading to a whisper.
I knew what name would come next.
So I lowered my gaze and said nothing.
"...And Yoichi. Asagiri Yoichi."
Her lips trembled.
"My little sister. The Crystal Samurai. I hated her because she was pure. Because she made me feels so dirty."
"But I loved her too. I just never said it."
Her tears hit the muddy floor inside the cage. And I closed my eyes, just for a moment, trying to hold my own pain together.
"You've heard the rumors," I said. "ADVENT vanished. No signals. No trace."
"But I'm going to find out what happened."
She nodded, still staring at the ground. Then, slowly, she looked up.
That face—so empty, yet somehow... hopeful.
"I'm heading to the Western District," I told her.
"Maybe I'll find something. And when I do, I'll come back. I swear it."
There was no fire in my voice. But there was conviction. And that was enough. Her teary eyes lit up for the briefest second.
"Don't die, Raze..." she whispered. "Please... if you find her..."
I waited.
She clutched the bars, her hands shaking.
"Tell her... tell Yoichi..."
Her voice cracked.
"How much I sister loves her."
She repeated the name.
Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a spell from a soul too broken to scream.
"Yoichi... Yoichi..."
I stepped back.
Turned once more.
And saw her—curled up inside the cage, arms wrapped around her knees, whispering to no one but the ghosts.
"Yoichi... Yoichi..."
My footsteps echoed again, fading into the broken hallway where the survivors watched with hollow eyes.
But her voice—her voice stayed with me.
And I swore…
I will find you, Yoichi.
I will find all of The ADVENT.
And I will return, Ren.
With hope... strong enough to save the heart you have left.