Akshat didn't speak.
The weight of Kurana's confession hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot — thick, acrid, impossible to ignore. Solarius Knight. Dead. By Kurana's own hands. The old man's eyes held no remorse, only the flat certainty of someone who had long stopped counting bodies. Akshat simply stared for a long moment, jaw tight, before reaching into his coat and pulling out the hard drive. He placed it on the table between them with a soft click.
"I want the cure to that blood disease," Akshat said, voice low and even. "And I think I'll find it in Orion's secret main laboratory."
Kurana leaned back slightly, studying him. "So… what do you think to do now?"
"I will revisit that lab," Akshat replied. "It contains a lot of faded memories of mine with my great grandfather, Orion Aether."
Kurana gave a slow nod. Without another word, he moved. In the span of minutes, the room transformed into a quiet armory. A kevlar-reinforced battle suit was laid out — matte black, flexible yet sturdy, with reinforced plating across the chest and shoulders. A matching tactical mask followed. Weapons came next: a reliable shotgun, a compact 9mm pistol, a rifle for distance, and finally, Akshat's personal magnum — *Flawless Mistake* — its engraved barrel catching the dim light as Kurana handed it over with care.
Akshat suited up in silence, the material hugging his frame like a second skin. When the mask settled over his face, the world narrowed into something sharper, colder.
Kurana observed him for a beat, then allowed a faint, almost nostalgic smile. "Now you are looking like Hino Oni."
"You know i hate that name" Akshat replied on the comment.
Then he simply took the key Kurana offered — the quad bike in the garage. As he swung a leg over the machine and gripped the handlebars, one question finally slipped out.
"Did you really have enmity with my great grandfather?"
Kurana shook his head. "No. I don't have any hatred for Orion. I will tell you the past story some time later. It's complicated… and bigger than your current thinkings. But beware — that place might be dangerous. If you see any bigger snake, an Aether Titan… just drop your blood on its body. It will recognize you as Orion Aether's successor."
Akshat started the engine. The quad bike roared to life beneath him, a deep mechanical growl that echoed through the garage. He gave Kurana one last glance, then twisted the throttle and shot out into the night.
---
The journey stretched 477 kilometers, but Akshat didn't stop. The quad bike tore across broken roads and forgotten highways, wind whipping against his mask as the city lights faded behind him. Hours blurred. His mind wandered back to fragments — half-remembered stories his mother used to tell about Orion, the brilliant yet distant figure who had shaped their bloodline before vanishing into his own secrets.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the abandoned city, dawn was beginning to stain the horizon in bruised purples and grays. The place was a ghost. No human life stirred. Not a single light, not a voice, not even the distant hum of traffic. Only the wind moving through overgrown streets and the occasional cry of wild birds.
Akshat killed the engine and dismounted, proceeding on foot. The battle suit made barely a sound as he walked deeper into the ruins. Nature had swallowed most of the city. Vines choked buildings, trees burst through cracked asphalt, and thick undergrowth turned once-busy avenues into narrow jungle paths. Wildlife rustled in the shadows — small animals darting away, eyes glinting from darkened doorways.
He found the old house almost by instinct.
It stood at the end of a collapsed street, half-buried under moss and flowering creepers. Akshat pushed open the warped wooden door. Inside, dust floated in the thin beams of light cutting through broken windows. His boots left prints on the floor as he moved through what remained of the living room. On a tilted shelf, a photo frame caught his eye.
He picked it up.
Orion Aether stared back at him — younger than in the stories, standing tall with that same sharp gaze Akshat sometimes saw in his own reflection. A woman stood beside him, hand resting lightly on his arm. Family. Blood.
Something twisted hard in Akshat's chest. A raw ache that tasted of loss and questions he might never fully answer. But his face behind the mask remained blank, eyes steady. He wiped the dust from the frame with his gloved thumb, then slipped it carefully into one of the suit's secure pockets. He would keep it.
Leaving the house, Akshat pressed deeper. The city gave way to dense jungle. He hiked for hours, sweat building beneath the suit despite its breathability. Thorns snagged at his sleeves. Birds called warnings overhead. The mountain finally loomed ahead — ancient, brooding, half-hidden by canopy.
There it was.
The main door of the lab was embedded into the rock face, massive and mechanical, covered in decades of vines and corrosion. Akshat approached, fingers tracing the cold metal until he found the lever. He gripped it firmly, muscles straining as he pulled. Metal groaned in protest. With a deep breath, he planted his feet and pushed the giant gate with raw strength.
The hinges screamed. Slowly, painfully, the enormous door began to shift, revealing darkness beyond. A faint, sterile smell drifted out — old ozone, dust, and something metallic underneath. Memories stirred again, faint and flickering.
Akshat stepped forward, Flawless Mistake resting comfortably at his side.
Whatever waited inside… it belonged to his blood.