INT. BROKEN PASS – SHELTER – NIGHT
The storm outside howls like a dying world. Riku leans against a cracked pillar, eyes closed, breathing slow as the memories continue to uncoil inside him.
Narration: Freedom was never a single moment. It was a road of scars and choices that cut deeper than any blade.
FLASHBACK – EXT. KYOTO RIVERSIDE – EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER – DUSK
Cherry blossoms drift across a quiet river. Riku walks alone, coat torn from another underground fight. He stops at a small shrine, incense smoke curling like unanswered prayers.
Narration: He had left Tokyo, but ghosts travel well. Each city gave him new opponents and new debts. None gave peace.
An elderly priest sweeps the shrine steps, eyes sharp despite his age.
Priest: A sword without purpose only cuts the one who holds it.
Riku: Purpose is a luxury. Survival is enough.
Priest: Survival ends. Purpose endures.
Riku bows slightly, more out of habit than respect, and moves on, the words following like distant bells.
FLASHBACK – INT. OSAKA TRAIN DEPOT – SIX MONTHS EARLIER – NIGHT
Rain drums against steel beams. Riku hides behind a vending machine, counting winnings from a fight. A shadow falls across him—two strangers in black coats, faces hidden by surgical masks.
Stranger: Mr. Tsukiyama. Your skill is wasted on alleys. Do you wish to test it where victory means more than money?
Riku: I don't fight for other people's meaning.
Stranger: Everyone fights for something. Even those who claim they don't.
They hand him a black card etched with a silver sigil, then vanish into the crowd.
Narration: He kept the card but told himself it meant nothing. Still, he found his fingers tracing its edges whenever nightmares woke him.
FLASHBACK – EXT. NORTHERN MOUNTAINS – FOUR MONTHS EARLIER – MORNING
Snow crunches beneath worn boots. Riku trains with a retired soldier, Sensei Kaito, whose wooden sword strikes like lightning.
Kaito: Freedom without direction is a storm without an eye.
Riku: Maybe I like storms.
Kaito: Storms end. What remains is what you build.
For the first time, Riku feels strength shaped by discipline rather than rage. But peace lasts only until the nightmares spread across the world.
Narration: When crimson clouds bled over the horizon, he knew the black card was not an invitation. It was a summons.
FLASHBACK – EXT. TOKYO SKYLINE – NIGHT OF THE FIRST TRUMPET
Sirens wail. Red lightning scars the sky. Riku stands on a rooftop, card in hand, watching chaos consume the city.
Across a neighboring roof, a girl appears—Aya, or the memory of her. She raises a single finger, pointing toward the heavens.
Aya: Go.
Before he can speak, the card ignites, burning a sigil into his palm. Light swallows everything.
RETURN TO HELL – BROKEN PASS – NIGHT
The memories shatter like glass. Riku opens his eyes. The ash storm churns, carrying the sickly melody of Velythar, the Deathsong. His blade vibrates in his grip, as if every vow has become metal.
Narration: Freedom was never escape. It was defiance—and tonight, defiance stands before a god of death.
Velythar tilts his head, grin widening, eyes glowing with cruel delight.
Velythar: So the little blade remembers who he is. How quaint.
Riku: I remember everything. And I'm done running from monsters who think fear is a song.
Velythar: Fear is music. Your heartbeat keeps the tempo.
Riku: Then listen closely. It beats for no one but me.
Riku steps forward, ash swirling around his boots. Each stride carries the weight of every rooftop fight, every cage match, every chain he broke. His aura sharpens the air like drawn steel.
Arven: (shouting) Riku—don't!
Grace: Wait for an opening!
Riku: No more waiting. No more cages. I choose this fight.
He raises his blade, eyes burning with fury and unshakable resolve.
Riku: You call yourself Deathsong? Then hear my answer—freedom has no melody you can bend.
Velythar laughs, the sound like razors on glass.
Velythar: Brave words for a fleeting note.
The ground trembles. Ash explodes upward. Riku lunges, blade flashing like lightning—
—and the world stops.
Before the swing completes, Velythar moves. A blur of shadow, faster than sight, faster than breath.
Steel meets nothing. A cold hiss slices the air.
For a heartbeat Riku stands frozen, eyes widening as a thin red line blooms across his chest.
Riku: ...tch—
The Deathsong's claw finishes the arc. In a single merciless stroke, Riku's body splits cleanly in half.
Blood scatters across the shattered stones, steaming in the hellish air.
Narration: Freedom ends not with a scream, but with silence—proof that even the strongest resolve can be severed in an instant.
Velythar lowers his claw, grin undimmed.
Velythar: Silence. My favorite music.
To be continued...