Prologue
The year was 2250,
an age where cities reached the clouds, armies wielded weapons of plasma and steel, and the scars of countless wars painted the earth. Yet for Kimura Takatou, twenty-one years old and newly discharged from service, life had narrowed to something simple.
He was no longer standing in trenches, hearing the scream of artillery and the whine of mechs tearing through flesh and steel. Instead, he was at home. A small house, weather-worn and modest, tucked on the edge of the urban district. And for him, it was enough.
Inside waited the only two people that mattered: Saki, his wife, and their daughter, Airi.
The day began like so many others—peaceful.
Saki's laughter carried through the kitchen, soft and melodic, as she prepared a pot of stew. The scent of simmering broth filled the air. Her black hair was tied back in a loose braid, a habit from her days of working in the city canteen, but strands still escaped to frame her face. She hummed to herself, unaware of how radiant she looked beneath the faint glow of their home's artificial skylight.
On the floor, Airi giggled as she balanced her little wooden horse. She was five, with her mother's eyes and her father's stubborn chin. She looked up as Kimura stepped in through the doorway, his boots still dusty from his work shift.
"Papa!" Airi cried, sprinting across the floor to wrap herself around his leg.
Kimura bent down and scooped her into his arms. She was warm, her tiny fingers clutching at his collar. He kissed her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair. For a moment, the weight of the world slipped away.
"You're late again," Saki teased from the kitchen. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the army still had you chained."
"I'm free now," Kimura said with a tired grin. "Free enough to come home to my queen and princess."
Saki rolled her eyes, though her lips curled into a smile. Airi giggled at the words.
"Papa," she asked suddenly, her voice small, "will you always protect us? Even if the bad men come?"
The question made Kimura pause. He looked into her wide, trusting eyes, and in that moment he felt something heavier than any battlefield duty. He set her down gently and knelt to meet her gaze.
"Always," he said firmly. "Even if the whole world turns against us, I'll never let harm touch you or Mama."
Saki's eyes softened as she watched them, though somewhere deep inside, a shiver ran through her.
That promise would be broken before the night ended.
It began with footsteps. Heavy, iron-plated boots crushing gravel outside their home. At first, Kimura thought it was a passing patrol. But then the rhythm grew louder, steadier—too deliberate.
The door rattled with the slam of a fist. Then a voice, deep and commanding, carried through.
"Open up. By order of Lord Vanko."
Kimura froze. The name hit like ice water. Vanko—the mercenary lord. He was no soldier bound by code, no noble commander. He was a butcher dressed in steel, a man who ruled by fear, who had carved power with blood and fire. Kimura had seen his banners once on the battlefield and prayed never to again.
The door buckled as another slam shook it.
Kimura rushed to Saki, his voice low. "Take Airi. Hide in the back. Don't come out until I say."
Saki's face drained of color. She nodded quickly, scooping up their daughter. "Papa, what's happening?" Airi asked, confused.
"Nothing," Kimura lied with a smile that hurt to wear. "Just stay with Mama."
The door exploded inward before he could say more. Wood splintered, the air filling with dust. Half a dozen armed men poured in, rifles slung across their shoulders, blades glinting. And behind them stepped Vanko himself.
He was taller than Kimura remembered from whispered tales. His armor was blackened steel trimmed with crimson, his chest marked with jagged scars, his grin wide and vile. His eyes, cold and predatory, swept across the room until they landed on Saki.
"There she is," Vanko said softly, almost hungrily. "Even more beautiful than the rumors claimed."
Kimura's blood froze. He stepped forward, fists clenched. "You bastard. This is my home."
Vanko's gaze slid to him lazily, as if Kimura were little more than an insect. "Ah, the soldier husband. I'll grant you this—you've kept her well hidden. But beauty like hers doesn't belong in shadows. It belongs to me."
Rage surged in Kimura's chest. "Over my dead body."
He lunged for the nearest mercenary, ripping a rifle from his grip. The soldier in him came alive; he cracked the weapon against one man's jaw, spun, and drove a kick into another's chest. For a moment, chaos erupted. Shouts, the clang of steel, the crash of bodies against walls.
Kimura fought like a man possessed, his training guiding every strike. He broke noses, shattered teeth, and forced three men back before they overwhelmed him.
A heavy blow struck the back of his head, and stars exploded in his vision. Shackles snapped around his wrists. His knees hit the floor, his body pinned under the weight of two mercenaries.
Saki screamed his name. Airi cried, her little voice trembling with fear.
Vanko stepped forward, laughter dripping like venom. He crouched beside Kimura, gripping his chin in a gauntleted hand. "You fought well. But strength without power is just desperation. Now, watch closely."
Kimura struggled, muscles straining, veins bulging against the cuffs. He roared, but the mercenaries held firm.
Vanko's eyes slid back to Saki. He approached slowly, savoring the terror etched across her face. "I didn't come here for you, soldier," he said coldly. "I came for her."
"No!" Kimura's voice cracked with fury. He tore at the shackles until blood ran down his wrists. "Don't you touch her!"
But Vanko was deaf to his pleas. He reached for Saki, his hand trailing down her cheek. She recoiled, clutching Airi tighter, her whole body trembling.
"Get your hands off her!" Kimura bellowed, spittle flying from his lips. He twisted, slammed his shoulder against the mercenaries, but the chains held. His heart pounded so hard he thought it would burst.
Vanko's smile widened as he grabbed Saki by the hair. She screamed, clawing at his hand. Kimura's world shattered with the sound. His vision blurred, his throat raw from screaming.
"Please!" Kimura begged, the word torn from his soul. "Take me instead! Kill me! Just let them go!"
Vanko looked back, amusement flickering in his gaze. "No. You'll live. Because watching them suffer will break you more than death ever could."
The mercenaries dragged Saki to the ground. Her cries filled the air. Kimura fought until his shoulders dislocated, until the metal bit into his bones. He screamed until blood poured from his throat, until his voice was nothing but a ragged rasp.
And then—Airi's voice.
"Papa! Help me!"
Kimura's head snapped up. His daughter was ripped from Saki's arms, her toy horse falling to the floor with a hollow clatter. Airi's tiny arms reached for him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Kimura surged forward with inhuman strength, dragging the mercenaries several inches, but still the cuffs held. His body was a prison, his will useless.
"No… no, no, no!" His voice cracked as he watched them carry her toward a cage where mutated beasts stirred. The creatures snarled, chains rattling, jaws dripping with hunger.
"Papa, please! I'm scared!"
Kimura's world collapsed. His chest caved as though pierced by a blade. Every heartbeat was agony, every breath a scream.
Vanko leaned beside him, whispering in his ear. "Listen well, soldier. This is despair. And it belongs to you now."
The beasts lunged.
Kimura's mind broke. His wife's scream, his daughter's cry, the crunch of teeth—all blurred into a cacophony that tore reality apart. His throat opened in a roar not of rage but of annihilation.
And then the world changed.
Time slowed. Space warped. The shackles around his wrists groaned as cracks of light and shadow spiraled across them. The air around him distorted, objects bending inward toward a void forming in his palm. A black sphere flickered into existence, pulsing with hunger, swallowing sound itself.
The mercenaries stumbled back in fear. Even Vanko's grin faltered. "So… you awaken."
Kimura's eyes glowed with a hollow light, his body trembling under the weight of impossible power. His scream turned silent as the blackhole grew, small but infinite, a wound in reality.
Vanko's grin returned. "How entertaining. But I won't waste you here. Throw him into Scaletrón City. Let him rot with monsters. Let his despair fester."
The mercenaries obeyed. Kimura, half-conscious, broken, still clutching the flickering void, was dragged to the edge of a swirling rift.
His last sight was Saki's still body, his daughter's blood, and Vanko's smile.
Then he was cast into the abyss.
When Kimura awoke, he lay among ruins. Bones stretched across the ground. Shadows moved in the mist. The stench of death suffocated him.
Every part of him was broken, but one thing remained unbroken: his vow.
He dragged himself forward, his fingers clawing the dirt, blood smearing behind him. His voice rasped, weak but unyielding.
"Vanko…"
His hand trembled. The void flickered again, black and endless in his palm.
"I'll give you despair. A hundredfold more… a thousandfold more… Even if I must tear time apart… even if the world burns to ash… I will make you suffer."
The blackhole pulsed, and Scaletrón itself seemed to shiver.
Thus began the tale of Kimura Takatou—the soldier broken by despair, reborn in darkness, and destined to carve vengeance across time and space.
Word Count: ~1,560 words