MOHITO plunged into the depths of sleep and found himself standing atop a mountain of corpses.
The dead bodies were intertwined like a human carpet, stained in the hues of death.
His feet sank into cold flesh, and his breath choked on the stench of rot and iron.
"Where am I?" he whispered, but the sound lost itself in the void.
He looked down and saw faces he knew: comrades who had perished, enemies he had defeated, and innocents he had failed to save.
Every open eye accused him; every open mouth remained silent over a scream that never escaped.
Then the crimson sea began to rise.
Blood, unlike ordinary blood — viscous, warm, alive — flowed between the corpses like subterranean rivers.
Its level climbed swiftly: first to his feet, then to his knees, then to his waist.
"No…" he struggled, but the blood was stronger.
He felt hands he could not see pulling him down, invisible fingers tugging at his legs.
"Give me more…"
a voice whispered from the depths — a voice he knew well.
It was like rustling and roaring at once.
"Give me more anger… more hatred… more pain…"
The call repeated, rising with every wave of blood.
MOHITO tried to resist, but the blood filled his mouth, his nose, his eyes.
The taste of copper and salt invaded his palate.
Crimson blurred his vision.
The voice rose: "Give me more!"
He was drowning in a sea of his sins, in an ocean of every life he had taken.
Each victim became a drop in this deluge.
Suddenly… everything stilled.
The voice that had been screaming moments before vanished, as if the world held its breath.
From the blood, a shadow slowly rose — its features forming in a crimson-black hue.
BORBAKI.
He stood before him as though he had never died.
His eyes were black and lidless… like abysses.
He opened his mouth…
The sound was not only his voice; it was the echo of the sword itself.
MOHITO did not move.
The shadow surged toward him as if it knew his body, his soul, knew where to press.
Its fingers were not fingers… they were his memories.
They choked him.
"Give me…"
Before the word completed—
MOHITO choked, the vision burst, and the dream tore apart.
He woke gasping, sweat cold across his brow.
His phone was ringing.
He stared at the glowing screen in the dark as if it were a beacon in his night.
ADEL was calling.
ADEL's voice through the receiver sliced through the fog that wrapped MOHITO's consciousness:
"You must come to the factory… SHOUTNA requested everyone."
MOHITO answered with a hoarse voice, as if his throat was still recovering from suffocation: "Okay."
And he rose from his bed as though carrying mountains of memories on his shoulders.
He went to MORASAMI, crouched in the corner of the room — the black sword whose red veins pulsed like living arteries.
"You haven't had enough yet…" it seemed to say.
"But this time, things will go the way I want," he whispered under his breath, a faint challenge in his voice.
He moved to the tiny kitchen, his motions slow and deliberate.
He prepared his usual black coffee; its strong aroma filled the space like a shield against the ghosts of the night.
As he sipped the first bitter shot, his eyes drifted to the TV where the morning news spoke of the continuing war between SAVARNA and KARA, and of a peace conference.
"More wars… more blood…" he murmured, shaking his head.
He returned to his room and dressed slowly, every movement made with full consciousness.
When he bent to tie his shoe, he paused for a moment, his back turned to the sword.
He felt MORASAMI's gaze pierce his back — but this time he did not recoil.
He shut the apartment door with force, an act that felt like severing a tie with an inner demon.
He stood on the threshold and breathed the cold morning air; the gray city spread before him like a map of an unknown fate.
At the moment he began to walk, he glanced once more at the closed door, as if to make sure the sword's shadow had not followed him.
A new look had come into his eyes… the look of decision.
"My usual route," he whispered as he started walking, "but with an unusual person today."
*************
In the abandoned factory, where the dust of old battles still hung in the air, the SHADOWS were busy enjoying a rare calm.
ZARIOUH and MIZYANI argued enthusiastically about their favorite series,
While TAHARA showed AYOUB a picture of the new girl he had met, smiling with pride.
In a corner, ADEL and OBASO were absorbed in planning a mission,
while ZAKI and MESNAS challenged each other in a phone game, whispers of rivalry filling the place.
By the entrance, SOLIMON stood beside SAMA, explaining something with gentle gestures.
MOHITO noticed two unexpected people and stepped toward MAYNO and GHAZLANE with curiosity.
"So SHOUTNA summoned you too?" he asked.
"Yes!" GHAZLANE answered eagerly, while MAYNO merely nodded politely.
Suddenly, SHOUTNA entered through the back door; his presence drew everyone's attention.
"It seems everyone is here. I want to show you something important."
He gestured slightly toward ADEL and OBASO.
"All right, friends, showtime!" OBASO said excitedly.
ADEL displayed an image of a luxurious palace on the screen.
"What is that? A place we need to infiltrate?" MESNAS asked dismissively.
"No, you fool!" OBASO laughed. "This is our new home!"
A stunned silence fell, then everyone exchanged astonished glances before turning to SHOUTNA, waiting for an explanation.
"I will explain," SHOUTNA said as he stepped to the center of the room.
"After our last mission, chaos spread within the intelligence services.
The discovery of an organization of superhumans was something no one expected, especially after the upheaval caused by the battles.
So, the KING decided we become a special unit directly under him, not mere assassins."
"We work for the KING now?" ZARIOUH interrupted.
SHOUTNA answered with a determined look: "On paper, yes. But in truth, no.
The KING did this only to halt the anger within the leadership.
As a result, we have been granted this palace as our private headquarters."
SHOUTNA turned his gaze to everyone.
"So gather your belongings from your homes; special trucks will come to transfer them to the palace."
"I always dreamed of living in a house with a pool, but a palace? This is amazing!" TAHARA exclaimed, jumping for joy.
"That doesn't sound bad," MIZYANI added with a smile.
"And us too?" GHAZLANE asked, puzzled.
"Yes, you two are officially part of the SHADOWS now by royal decree," SHOTNA said, showing a document stamped with the KING's seal.
"I shall learn much from you then," MAYNO said, eyes full of admiration toward SHOUTNA.
GHAZLANE whispered to herself, "I can't believe I'll live with all these exciting boys in one place!"
Everyone rejoiced… while MOHITO was silent.
He saw the palace as a new battlefield.
Something within him stirred slowly… something that had awakened in the dream and would not return to sleep.
SOLIMON watched him silently from behind.
After the meeting, MOHITO walked up to SHOUTNA.
"Where are the HOUNDS?"
SHOUTNA replied calmly, "You know them well; they never stay in one place."
"If so, they have left again," MOHITO said in a saddened tone.
"You look tired today," SHOUTNA tried to draw MOHITO out.
"Don't worry, I'm fine. I'll go home to pack my things," MOHITO said as he left.
"Is he okay?" SOLIMON approached SHOUTNA and whispered.
"I don't think so," SHOUTNA answered, watching MOHITO from behind.
*****************
MOHITO returned to his apartment in silence.
He wasn't exhausted from walking, yet his steps felt heavy.
He opened the door.
No one greeted him.
No sound. No breathing.
Only silence… the silence that always precedes the things one does not want to face.
The faint light from the balcony cast the sword's shadow on the wall…
MORASAMI was there in the same place, waiting.
MOHITO approached slowly.
He did not reach out. He did not touch it.
He merely stood before it.
The sword looked like a living thing; the red veins on its blade pulsed… slowly… as if it were breathing.
MOHITO closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and lifted the sword slowly from its place.
Distant sounds — not from the room but from within him — began to stir.
"Give me… more."
His breath faltered for a moment… then he went to the wardrobe and opened it.
He began to gather his belongings:
Two shirts only.
Two pairs of trousers.
A smashed phone screen that he kept.
An old photograph of himself with someone… the other's face torn from the middle of the paper.
A half-empty medicine box. And nothing else.
When he finished, he sat on the edge of the bed.
He looked at MORASAMI beside him on the floor.
He extended a finger and lightly brushed the blade…
like a touch of longing… or surrender.
He spoke softly, in a voice that resembled the end of a war:
"If you have returned… it means we are not finished yet."
He stood.
He slung the bag over his shoulder.
He strapped his swords to his back.
And before he closed the door, he turned inward one last time.
The apartment was empty…
Yet it felt like the only place he had ever truly known.
He closed the door slowly.
The darkness inside remained.
The darkness within him… left with him.
And he walked.
Toward the palace.
Toward the mission.
Toward what would come.