Beneath the Crimson Sky
The sky was painted in deep orange and crimson as Ryco stood beneath it, cloaked in silence.
Behind him lay the bodies of five fallen comrades — each one a piece of the life he once knew.
Their faces were bloodied, still, and lifeless.
Heroes who once fought for justice…
Or so he thought.
Now, all that remained was vengeance.
Ryco's eyes were dark, burning with purpose.
His jaw clenched.
His breath calm despite the storm inside him.
The wind tugged at his cloak, as if begging him to turn back.
But it was too late for that.
He turned his back on the past and walked forward into the unknown.
But the past…
It never really stayed buried.
Five days ago, he told himself this was justice.
Five years ago, he told himself it was survival.
But the truth had always been simpler.
It was power.
And it started long before anyone called him a traitor.
Years Earlier…
A house burned quietly in the dead of night.
The flames didn't scream.
They whispered.
Inside, a man lay dying — blood smeared across stone, his breathing shallow, his eyes full of fading light.
In the doorway stood a younger Yoko, sword trembling in his hand, frozen by the scene before him.
Across the room stood Ryco.
Silent.
Still.
A dagger dangled from his fingers, its tip soaked red.
At his feet, the Crimson Gem pulsed faintly, casting long shadows across the floor.
"Why…?" Yoko whispered.
"He wouldn't give it to me," Ryco said, voice cold. "I didn't mean to—"
"But you did."
Ryco didn't respond.
He turned and walked into the smoke without another word.
Yoko dropped to his knees beside the man, frantically trying to stop the bleeding.
"Stay with me. Don't move—I can fix this—just hold on—"
But the man grabbed Yoko's wrist, weak and shaking.
"Tell… my daughter…"
His voice cracked.
"Tell her… he…"
The words dissolved with his last breath.
Yoko stared at him, numb.
The flames swallowed the silence.
The Crimson Gem sat still, humming quietly like a curse that had already chosen its next host.