Kanae backed up as Teysu missed— readying his laser gun and firing it point-blank. The shot tore into Teysu's leg, leaving a gaping hole in his knee.
Teysu staggered, then roared as he levitated skyward, sand whipping into spirals around him. He hurled chunks of wasteland at Kanae, who speedily maneuvered around each.
"You're a disgrace to the motherland, Teysu! From a dork to a genocidal maniac!" Kanae spat, aiming again.
Teysu dove, slamming Kanae into the sand and pummeling him before attempting to bury him alive.
"Shut up! I'm sick of you and your standards! The Nightingale Army appreciates me!" Teysu's holler cracked into madness as his dark brown eyes twisted— a spiral, counter-clockwise.
Kanae forced himself free, blasting his gun into the sand for recoil. He broke out, panting, and aimed his weapon again.
"Fuck you… no saving someone like you. You'll just have to die for the greater good of my sanity."
"Shut up!" Teysu reinforced his broken leg with hardened sand and summoned a tornado of tumbleweed.
"Teysu!" Kanae screamed as the storm dragged him in.
But Teysu's mind drifted— a child's voice rang in the storm.
"I'm sorry… I broke the toy."
A boy with scruffy dark hair clutched a broken Miles Phillips action figure. A bandage above his brow. Parents rushing toward Teysu— only to vanish, leaving the child wailing in the dust.
"Don't cry! Be like a man!" A younger Kanae flexed his arms, grinning wide.
The child didn't stop. So Kanae hugged him.
"I'm sorry, Teysu. I need to be stronger for you."
The vision cracked.
"I'll never lose to scum like you."
Kanae dropped back into reality, feet braced on the desert floor. The tornado howled closer. He gulped, slapped his face, then charged straight through— his laser bolts pelting Teysu's face. They barely fazed him.
"It's alright, Kanae. I think I'm done taking orders from you." Teysu pushed the tornado harder. "Say hi to some of the Cassettes for me!"
"YOU DID WHAT?" Kanae's rage exploded. He sprinted forward, ignoring the storm, eyes only on his brother's smirk.
"I DON'T LIKE REPEATING MYSELF!"
"Stop."
The word cut through everything. The tornado collapsed instantly.
Kanae staggered back, gun trembling in his grip. A figure stood where the storm had been.
A girl. Blue pigtails. Stainless white gown. Ruby-red eyes, bloodshot. Freckled face, smiling— too white, too pure.
Samiel.
Teysu hovered, stunned, as she waved one hand. He slammed into the sand, trapped. Another flick sent Kanae flying backward like a toy.
Her voice was soft. Indifferent.
"You have strong potential. Where were you born?"
"I don't know… all I know is I'm born to kill!" Teysu strained against the sand.
"Do you feel the Angel's Light?"
"The trial prize?"
"No. That is false. What I mean is— do you feel the sublimity of your power? The runner's high of spiralling? Once you touch it… you understand everything."
Her eyes burned into spirals. His followed.
"Yes…" Teysu chuckled, his voice breaking. "I feel the Angel's Light."
"A godly sensation. A human like you, born from mutation, cannot kneel to mortals. Join me."
"And who are you?"
She smiled wider.
"Samiel. The God of Monsters."
"What the fuck are those two doing?" Kanae whispered from afar. His throat was dry, hands trembling around his gun. He saw their spirals intertwine and turned away. "I'm leaving… this is bad. I have to tell the resistance."
He ran, the desert swallowing him.
Three Days Later
The Castle of Invalia. Decrepit doors, weathered stone, halls full of dust.
Samiel sat on a throne of ivory white, its back carved with fantastical beasts— orcs, skeletons, wyverns.
Before her knelt Teysu, eyes spiralling, voice reverent.
"Ma'am… do you want my help?"
"You are beyond power, Teysu. You are so great." Samiel cupped his face, pressing her lips to his. Saliva dripped as she pulled away, her grin sharp.
"You've done well, Teysu Hama. Recruit two more. Sabotage the Reprisal. Later. For now— come to bed with me."
She rose from the throne, gown fluttering, and blew him a kiss before walking out.
Teysu followed, face gleaming with pride.
On the wall behind Samiel's throne, a mural of Jonah Sala burned faintly in crimson spirals. The same face plastered across riots and protests outside, turned now into an icon for chaos.
"Jonah Sala… martyr of the weak," Samiel whispered as she left. "But you, Teysu Hama— you will be remembered as the plague."