The moment Lia's body faded away again, the endless cycle broke momentarily, replaced by a violent silence. Ehito stood still, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Across from him, the man and woman faced him and Tilan once more, their expressions twisted with malice and bloodlust.
The rain poured harder now, the air thick with the smell of wet concrete and metal. Every drop striking the ground seemed to echo the rage thundering inside Ehito's chest. His mind sharpened, cold and calculated, every fiber of his being focused solely on destruction.
Tilan moved first. Without a single word, he launched toward the woman, while Ehito pivoted toward the man. Their movements were automatic, instinctive, their coordination flawless at first. They flowed around each other like dancers in a deadly waltz, each anticipating the other's moves before they were even made.
The woman attacked Tilan with blinding speed, her knives slicing through the air with deadly precision. But Tilan parried her strikes expertly, using the momentum to counterattack with a brutal series of low kicks and elbow strikes aimed at breaking her rhythm.
Meanwhile, the man rushed Ehito, his fists like battering rams. But Ehito moved like water—dodging, deflecting, countering with lightning-fast jabs and brutal kicks to the ribs and knees. Every strike from Ehito carried surgical precision, fueled by a deep, cold fury that boiled just beneath the surface.
Ehito ducked under a wide swing, planted his foot, and delivered a devastating uppercut to the man's chin, lifting him off the ground slightly. But the man recovered immediately, launching a low sweep aimed at Ehito's legs. Ehito jumped, spun mid-air, and kicked downward onto the man's shoulder, forcing him to stumble.
Tilan, on his side, managed to land a powerful kick to the woman's side, sending her skidding across the wet pavement. He didn't stop; he pressed forward, spinning into a vicious elbow strike aimed for her head. She ducked under it at the last second and retaliated with a savage slice aimed at Tilan's ribs.
Ehito, catching the movement from the corner of his eye, moved to intercept—his instincts screaming—but it was too late.
The woman's blade sank deep into Tilan's left arm.
Blood splattered the ground, vivid and dark against the gray concrete. Tilan staggered back, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, the wound grotesque and brutal. His face twisted in pain, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall.
For the briefest moment, the synchronization between Ehito and Tilan shattered. The instinctive dance they shared froze.
And in that moment of disruption, the man seized the opportunity. He lunged at Tilan, driving a heavy punch into his wounded side. Tilan stumbled, dropping to one knee.
The sight burned itself into Ehito's mind—the blood, the pain, the helplessness.
Something inside him snapped.
The cold control he had maintained fractured, replaced by a fury so pure, so overwhelming, that it consumed every thought, every emotion.
Ehito moved without thinking.
He blurred across the space between them, faster than either enemy could react. His fist, driven by unrelenting rage, collided with the woman's chest with a sickening crack. She flew backward, smashing into the stone wall with enough force to crater the surface. She slumped down, coughing blood, unable to rise.
Before the man could react, Ehito was on him.
Ehito's elbow smashed into the man's jaw, snapping his head sideways with a brutal crack. He followed immediately with a devastating knee to the stomach that lifted the man off his feet. Without mercy, Ehito grabbed him by the collar mid-air and slammed him into the ground with earth-shaking force.
The man tried to move, groaning, but Ehito stomped on his wrist, shattering it. Then the other. Methodical. Precise. Cruel.
Tilan, struggling to stay conscious, watched with wide, glazed eyes as Ehito tore their enemies apart with a terrifying efficiency, his movements no longer graceful but brutal, predatory.
The woman tried to crawl away, blood pouring from her mouth, but Ehito appeared beside her like a phantom. Without hesitation, he grabbed her head and twisted sharply. A clean snap echoed through the rain. Her body went limp, her eyes wide in shock.
Ehito turned back toward the man, who was trying to stand despite his broken arms. Crawling desperately, terror written all over his face.
Ehito approached slowly, step by step, each footfall heavy and inevitable like the judgment of death itself. He knelt beside the man, grabbed him by the hair, and whispered something too low for even Tilan to hear.
Then, with one clean motion, Ehito snapped the man's neck.
Silence fell.
Only the sound of rain striking the ground remained, and the shallow, labored breathing of Tilan.
Ehito stood still for a moment, his eyes blank, the fury draining out of him like water slipping through cracked stone. His clothes were soaked in rain and blood, his hands trembling slightly. Not from fear. From rage that had nowhere left to go.
He turned toward Tilan, his eyes clearing slightly.
Tilan, cradling his mutilated arm, gave a weak nod.
They had survived.
But Lia was gone.
Again.
And no matter how many enemies he killed, no matter how hard he fought, no matter how many times he relived this nightmare… he had failed her.
Ehito fell to his knees beside Tilan, the cold rain washing over them, mixing blood with water until they were indistinguishable.
There were no words.
No comfort.
Only the heavy, suffocating weight of defeat.
The rain fell relentlessly, drowning the streets in a gray, cold sheet.
All around them, the battle had left its mark. Chunks of concrete were shattered, bloodstains mixed with rainwater, forming dark puddles on the ground. The two assailants lay on the floor, their bodies now motionless, frozen in the violence of the confrontation.
Ehito, his breath heavy, stared at the corpses of the two enemies. His hands were covered in blood, but it seemed to matter little now. His gaze immediately turned to Tilan, who was on the ground, his hand gripping his injured arm, the gaping wound from one of the attackers clearly visible. Tilan's arm was mutilated, an unimaginable pain etched across his face, but he showed no signs of weakness, gritting his teeth and breathing hard.
The fight was over. But the war, it seemed, was only just beginning for them.
With an almost mechanical gesture, Ehito grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number. There was no time for hesitation, no room for regret. He knew he couldn't turn back.
He called. The phone buzzed in his hand, the rain still tapping against his skin like a thousand little lashes.
A few minutes passed before a hooded figure emerged from the shadows. Silent, fast, almost ghost-like. The figure approached Lia without a word, bent down, and gently lifted her lifeless body. Ehito turned his gaze away, a dull and unbearable pain tightening around his heart. No tears, no unnecessary gestures. There was no place for that anymore.
The figure disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, taking Lia's body with it. It was all over.
Ehito turned back to Tilan, still on the ground, his pain obvious but contained. He knelt beside him, his gaze cold and impassive, as though the scene hadn't affected him. But deep within, he felt a pain unlike any other fight. A deeper pain than he had ever known.
Tilan, his voice broken by pain, whispered:
— Ehito… she… she's…
Ehito didn't respond. He had no words. How could he explain the vast emptiness growing inside his chest? How could he justify the failure of not saving Lia, the person he cared for more than anything?
They stayed there, under the pouring rain, saying nothing, just in the heavy silence of the night.
Inside, something broken was forming in Ehito's mind. Lia wouldn't return. There would be no "coming back" this time. He knew it, he felt it deep within. Everything he had done had been in vain. He had lost everything. And nothing he could do would bring Lia back to life.
"I couldn't save you," he thought.
The reality hit him with violent, unforgiving force. Escaping fate was harder than I thought.
His gaze drifted into the night, the rain hiding the tears he would never shed. He had already taken too many lives, already faced too many trials. But this time, Lia's loss had consumed him from the inside out. There was no more strength, no more rage, only emptiness. A bitter resignation.
All he could do now was move forward. But at what cost?
——-
the introduction is finish thanks for reading until then good reading for the next