The city was nothing more than a carcass of its former self. Buildings leaned like drunken giants, their windows shattered, their steel skeletons exposed to the night air. Burnt-out cars clogged the streets, their twisted frames lit faintly by dying streetlamps. Fires smoldered in corners where grenades or sheer rage had torn through lives. The ground itself was broken, littered with cracked asphalt and rusted debris that told of battles fought too long and too fiercely.
The war between two factions had consumed every alley and rooftop. Screams echoed through the smoke—sometimes distant, sometimes frighteningly close. Metal clashed against metal, steel on steel, as warriors fought in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Firearms were scarce, but the devastation was proof enough of the bloodletting. The city itself seemed to mourn, its silence between battles heavy with despair.
And at the center of this graveyard of war, under the dim glow of crooked streetlamps aligned like sentinels, two figures faced each other. Twenty meters separated them, but the tension between their gazes closed the distance.
One was a giant, towering at over seven feet, his muscles bulging like iron boulders under his grey singlet. His every movement carried the weight of a predator certain of his strength. Black trousers clung to his massive legs, and across his right shoulder was inked the mark of three dragon heads, snarling in eternal fury. His very presence seemed to distort the air—an embodiment of raw power.
Opposite him stood a shadow.
Shade.
Hood drawn low, face hidden behind a mask, he was wrapped in silence as palpable as the grave. His long coat rippled in the faint wind, carrying with it the faint smell of smoke and metal. In his hands gleamed twin katana, their edges catching the pale light like slivers of moonlight. A strange aura radiated from him—calm yet crushing, a gravity that pulled at the soul. Looking at him too long felt like staring into a void that could swallow the world whole. Terrifying, infinite, yet inexplicably serene.
"Hahaha!" The giant's laughter boomed across the broken square, bouncing off ruined walls. "I never thought I'd face you, Shade."
Shade's eyes, glowing faintly beneath the hood, never wavered. "Neither did I. But it seems fate has other plans for us."
The giant's grin widened, revealing teeth like a predator savoring the hunt. "I've heard much about you—your style, your techniques. But let me tell you, Shade… you're not my opponent."
Shade tilted his head, sighing softly. His voice was calm, but his words cut sharp. "You're too arrogant, Hades. But what else should I expect from a musclehead? All brawn, no brains."
The amusement drained from Hades' face, replaced by a look of grim determination. "Is that so? Then come. Let's see whose strength endures. I still have a greater opponent waiting." He flexed his colossal arms, the cords of muscle twisting like steel cables. The ground seemed to shiver under his steps as he advanced.
Shade's answer was movement. A blur across the broken concrete, his coat snapping behind him like a phantom's wing. One katana was drawn low, whispering along the ground, while the other remained strapped to his back.
"Cut through planes… strike against the firmament—Void Strike!"
His voice rang with power, and his blade burst into a shadowy, violet glow. The very air around the slash split, a rift of darkness tearing diagonally toward Hades. The force carried the weight of the void itself—silent, inevitable, and devastating.
******