Swords of Fate

The bell rang suddenly, and students rushed into the classroom.

"Good morning, everyone!" The teacher smiled warmly at the students as they settled into their seats.

"Okay, class, listen up. We have a new student today," the teacher said with excitement.

A boy with black, wavy hair stood at the front of the room.

"My name is Soto Takeshi, and it's nice to meet you all!" Soto yelled out with enthusiasm, his voice a bit louder than intended.

The class busted out laughing, and Soto's face turned bright red with embarrassment.

"My name is Saga Uragiri. Nice to meet you!" Saga said with a warm smile. The class fell silent, intrigued by his calm demeanor.

Soto scratched his head awkwardly.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you too..." he muttered with an awkward smile, clearly flustered by the attention.

"There's a seat open over there. That will be your seat from now on," the teacher said with a chuckle.

Soto walked toward the empty seat, the eyes of the class following him. He sat down next to a girl, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze.

"Do you need something?" she asked, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. Soto quickly looked away, his face turning crimson.

"Uh, no...," he stammered, then hesitated before glancing at her again. "Actually, I... I want to know your name."

Embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he lowered his head.

"Is that all?" the girl giggled, her tone light.

With a small, teasing smile, she said, "My name is Yuki Kagi."

"It... it's nice to meet you, Yuki," Soto said hesitantly, his voice shaky. After a brief pause, he asked, "Is... is this a hard class?"

Yuki tilted her head slightly, hearing the nervousness in his tone. She shook her head with a small smile. "You don't need to be so nervous around me," she said softly, then paused for a moment as if considering something.

"To answer your question, no, it's not really hard—if you know what to do. But don't worry, I'll help you," Yuki added with a reassuring smile.

Soto felt a bit of relief and managed an awkward smile in return. "That... that would be nice," he said, his voice still a little unsure.

The bell suddenly rang, cutting through the moment.

"Okay, class, that was a short lesson. Remember to grab the homework on your way out," the teacher said, their expression growing serious.

Soto froze, his thoughts spiraling into panic. Homework? On the first day! he thought, his mind racing.

Just then, he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, pulling him out of his spiral.

"Don't worry," Yuki said with a calming tone. "I'm sure it isn't anything too challenging. Here, I'll give you, my number. If you need help, just ask."

She quickly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Here," she said with a smile.

Soto stared at the paper for a moment before looking up at her. "Thanks," he said quietly, his nerves still lingering but slightly eased by her kindness.

"Commander, the men are ready. When will we start the plan?" a short, bald-headed man asked, his voice steady yet eager.

A towering figure sat in a massive chair, his back turned to the short man, the faint glow of monitors lighting the room. After a moment of silence, the big man spoke, his deep voice carrying an air of authority.

"At midnight," he replied, his tone cold and final.

While walking home, Soto noticed a piece of ripped paper drifting through the wind. It fluttered erratically before landing at his feet. "What is this?" he murmured, picking it up. The edges were torn, and the writing on it was jagged, as though hastily scrawled.

"No one is safe..." the words read.

Soto furrowed his brow, confusion washing over him. After a moment, he shrugged, crumpling the paper and tossing it into a nearby trash can. "Weird," he muttered, brushing it off as some prank or nonsense.

When he arrived home, he knocked on the door. "I'm home!"

The door opened to reveal a young woman who looked about his age. She had long, flowing black hair and features strikingly similar to his own.

"Welcome home, brother," she said warmly, stepping aside to let him in.

Soto greeted his family quickly and headed up to his room. When he opened the door, he froze. His dad was sitting on the edge of his bed, a serious expression on his face.

"Hey, Dad," Soto said, closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

His dad didn't answer right away, his gaze fixed on the floor. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Son, I need to talk to you."

Soto felt his nerves spike. He sat down beside his dad, his voice uncertain. "Did I do something wrong?"

His dad shook his head slightly but didn't look at him. Instead, he spoke in a low, firm tone. "Tonight, don't let anyone leave the house."

Soto blinked, confused. "Yeah, sure, I can do that, but... why?"

His dad stood up without answering, his shoulders tense. "Just do what I say," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. Then, without another word, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Soto sat there for a moment, staring at the closed door. "Well, that was a short talk," he muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. His unease lingered as he glanced out the window, the earlier words on the ripped paper flashing through his mind.

"No one is safe..."

Soto drifted off to sleep, only to be startled awake by the blaring sound of an alarm. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he reached over to turn it off. His hand froze when he saw the time.

11:00 PM.

"I didn't set an alarm," he muttered, a sinking feeling washing over him. Next to the clock, he noticed a folded piece of paper. Hesitating for a moment, he picked it up and unfolded it.

"Don't worry, son. I'll take care of everything."

It was his dad's handwriting. Soto's heart began to race. Panic surged through him as he hurriedly searched the house, checking room after room. His dad was nowhere to be found.

His siblings were sound asleep, their soft breathing the only sound in the quiet house. Soto clenched his fists, his mind racing. "What's going on? Why did he leave? What did he mean by that note?"

He hurried to lock every door and window, his hands trembling as he double-checked each one. The eerie silence of the house only amplified the pounding of his heart.

An alarm blared in an underground facility, red lights flashing across the dim, metallic walls. Soldiers rushed into formation, their boots thundering against the cold floor. A sea of 100,000 troops stood at attention, their voices booming in unison.

"Is everyone ready?!" the short, bald-headed man barked, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"We are ready, sir!" the troops roared back, their synchronized chant shaking the air.

Sitting in a massive chair, a towering figure observed the scene through glowing monitors. His fingers drummed on the armrest as he thought to himself.

"Only thirty minutes left."

On a quiet street, under the faint glow of a flickering streetlight, a man dressed entirely in black leaned against a pole. His face was hidden by a mask, but his posture was calm, deliberate. He stood as if waiting for something inevitable, the stillness around him stark against the brewing storm.

The clock ticked down.

10 minutes.

The man adjusted his gloves, his gaze locked on the horizon.

5 minutes.

He took a deep breath, his body tense yet composed, like a predator waiting to strike.

1 minute.

An explosion shattered the night, the sound echoing through the small town. Flames lit up the horizon as the troops began their assault, storming the quiet streets and breaking into buildings. The screams of the townsfolk filled the air.

Leaning against the street pole, the man in black straightened. He stared at the chaos unfolding before him, his voice calm and cold.

"It's time."

He raised his hand toward the sky. A dark, swirling magic circle materialized above him, its eerie glow casting shadows across his masked face. From within the circle, a sword emerged, dark and sinister, its blade pulsating faintly with crimson light. He grasped it firmly, holding it out before him.

As the magic circle faded, the man spoke once more, his voice like a chilling whisper that carried through the night.

"The darkness will consume you all."

With that, he surged forward, a blur of motion. His speed was inhuman, a shadow cutting through the invading troops like a blade through water. The soldiers, mid-raid, turned in shock as he descended upon them. One by one, they fell as his sword slashed through the air, the blade glowing brighter with each strike.

Inside one of the buildings, a soldier raised his weapon, ready to strike down a woman cowering on the floor. Suddenly, a figure appeared between them—a dark blur that moved too fast for the soldier to react. The man in black now stood there, his sword gleaming ominously.

The soldier stumbled back; fear etched on his face. "W-who are you?" he stammered.

The man didn't answer. Instead, he drove his blade into the soldier's chest. The sword glowed a deep red as the soldier gasped, his body convulsing.

"You will all get the punishment you deserve," the man growled.

The soldier dropped to the floor, his body cracking and splintering as though it were made of brittle glass. A moment later, he shattered completely, his remains dissolving into the air.

Without hesitation, the man turned and continued his assault. He moved like a phantom, cutting through the ranks of the invading troops. Each slash of his blade brought the same fate—bodies disintegrated, souls torn from their vessels, their pained groans fading into nothingness.

In the underground facility, chaos was brewing. Monitors displayed the carnage above as soldiers fell one after another. The short, bald-headed man shouted orders, trying to regain control.

The man sitting in the massive chair slammed his fist onto the armrest, his voice a roar of fury.

"Who is doing this?! Who is killing all of my men?!"

Hours passed, and the once-mighty army was no more. Their lifeless bodies littered the streets, leaving behind an eerie silence. In the underground chamber, the boss leaned back in his chair, his face twisted with frustration.

"It's time to make my appearance," he muttered, rising to his feet.

The bald-headed man stepped forward, desperation in his voice. "But sir, it's too dangerous! Let me—"

Before he could finish, the boss drove his fist into the man's chest with terrifying force. The bald-headed man gasped, blood spilling from his mouth as he collapsed.

"The entire time you worked for me, your death means nothing, Jaaku" the boss sneered, stepping over the body without a second glance.

Aboveground, the town was in chaos. Fires burned in the distance, and terrified citizens peered out of their windows, watching the unfolding carnage. The streets were deserted, save for a few brave—or foolish—onlookers.

Inside his home, Soto was frantic, trying to calm his family. His voice trembled as he shouted, "Don't leave the house!"

His siblings huddled together, their mother pacing nervously. The tension in the room was palpable until a thunderous knock shattered the uneasy silence.

"Let me in!" a voice bellowed from outside.

Before Soto could react, the door was kicked off its hinges. A bloodied soldier staggered into the house, his machete hanging loosely in his hand. His uniform was torn, and his face was twisted in a mix of rage and desperation.

Soto's heart pounded as he grabbed two kitchen knives from the counter, tucking one into his pocket. He stepped in front of his family, his voice shaking but resolute. "Stand behind me. I won't let him hurt you."

The soldier grinned wickedly, his machete glinting in the dim light. With a guttural roar, he charged at Soto. Instinct took over as Soto raised the knife to block the strike. The blades clashed, the force nearly knocking Soto off balance.

Suddenly, the soldier dropped his weapon and lunged forward, wrapping his hands around Soto's neck. His grip was like iron, choking the life out of him.

"Who do you think you are, brat?!" the soldier snarled, his voice dripping with malice. Soto clawed at the man's hands, his vision blurring as his strength faded.

"Please, don't kill my son!" Soto's mother cried out, rushing toward the soldier. She swung her fists desperately, but the man backhanded her with brutal force. She crumpled to the floor.

The soldier laughed darkly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Don't worry, lady," he said with a twisted smirk. "We'll have our time later."

Soto's vision was fading fast, but his hand found the second knife in his pocket. Summoning every ounce of strength, he plunged the blade into the soldier's chest. The man gasped, his grip loosening slightly, but Soto didn't stop.

He stabbed him again. And again. Five times in total, each strike fueled by fear and desperation. The soldier's body went limp and collapsed on top of Soto, his lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Soto lay there, trembling as he realized what he had done. Blood stained his hands, his clothes, and the floor around him. He shoved the body off, gasping for air. Tears streamed down his face as the reality of the situation hit him like a tidal wave.

"I... I just killed someone..." he whispered, his voice breaking. He dropped the knife, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he began to cry. His family watched in silence, their fear and relief mingling as they clung to each other.

What seemed like an earthquake rumbled through the streets with every step the boss man took as he emerged from the shadows of his lair. His towering presence exuded power and menace, each footfall reverberating through the devastated town. He surveyed the scene, his voice a booming challenge.

"Come on out, shadow man!" he roared, his tone mocking yet commanding.

In a flash, the shadow man appeared, charging at the boss with lethal precision. But before his attack could land, a wave of water materialized out of nowhere, wrapping around him like living chains. The water coiled tighter, immobilizing him in midair.

A figure wearing a mask shaped like flowing water stepped forward, manipulating the liquid with effortless grace. With a flick of his wrist, the water flung the shadow man into a crumbling building.

The shadow man groaned, forcing himself to stand. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice laced with frustration.

Before he could get an answer, another man appeared, dressed in a vivid red outfit. His fists glowed as they transformed into solid iron. Without a word, the man unleashed a relentless barrage of punches.

The shadow man raised his arms, desperately trying to block the onslaught, but the strikes were too overwhelming. One powerful blow landed squarely in his chest, launching him into the ground with bone-shattering force. He gasped for air as the earth itself began to shift beneath him. The ground surged upward, attacking him with jagged shards of stone, forcing him to leap onto a nearby rooftop for safety.

From the smoke and debris, three more figures emerged, their silhouettes haunting against the dim light.

"We will kill you," one of them said, their voices cold and emotionless.

The shadow man froze. His blood ran cold as he recognized their faces—faces he thought he'd never see again. They were the dead, men he had fought before, now standing before him as if death had never claimed them.

"Takeru Shiketsu..." he murmured, his voice low but steady as he locked eyes with the boss man. "That is your name, isn't it?"

The boss stopped in his tracks, his lips curling into a twisted grin.

"You can bring the dead back to the living," the shadow man continued, his tone now filled with a mix of awe and disdain.

The boss chuckled darkly, his laugh echoing through the battlefield. "No fun—you figured me out already."

With a snap of his fingers, the once-dead troops littering the battlefield began to stir. One by one, they rose, their movements stiff and unnatural, but their purpose clear. They were his army once more.

The undead soldiers charged at the shadow man in a wave of unrelenting force. He fought desperately, his blade flashing through the air as he struck down soldier after soldier. But for every one that fell, another rose in its place.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Soto stood frozen, staring in horror as the man he had just killed earlier stumbled into the room, his eyes hollow and his expression void of life.

"What is happening?!" Soto screamed, tears streaming down his face.

The undead man, unrecognizing and unfeeling, lunged at Soto with unrelenting ferocity. Soto's mother grabbed him and shoved him behind her, but before the creature could reach them, it turned and charged out of the house, disappearing into the chaos outside.

Soto collapsed, his body trembling as his mind spiraled. The sheer terror was too much. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision before he fainted.

Soto's mother, her face pale but determined, hoisted him into her arms. She gathered the rest of her children, ushering them upstairs. She locked the door and barricaded it with furniture, her heart pounding as she whispered, "Please, no one else come..."

The Shadow Man opened another dark portal, his movements swift and precise as two glowing blades materialized in his hands. Their light pulsed with power, reflecting his intent to finish this battle once and for all.

"Time to show my true power!" he roared, charging at the remaining forces. The battlefield had thinned—many of the undead had been disintegrated, leaving only a few left to stand in his way.

With a single, sweeping slash, his blades cut through the last of the troops. But the fight was far from over. The men with special powers drew their own weapons, surrounding him in a tight formation. Three on one.

The Shadow Man quickly assessed his targets, his instincts honed from years of combat. He kicked the earth manipulator, sending him tumbling, before slicing his throat. The man collapsed, only to rise again, lifeless and soulless.

"There is no end to us," the water-manipulator taunted, his mask gleaming in the dim light.

But the Shadow Man moved faster than ever, his speed nearly too much to track. With a flash of his blades, he sliced through the water man's mask, sending shards scattering to the wind.

"Nagare Mizukawa?!" The Shadow Man stopped mid-strike, his eyes narrowing in recognition. The water man—Nagare—had once been an ally.

"I know you don't want this madness. I will end it for you," the Shadow Man said, his voice full of sorrow.

He dashed forward to finish him off, but before his strike could land, a powerful punch sent him flying backwards. He skidded to a halt, pain coursing through his body.

"You can't forget about me," a deep voice growled. The man in red—iron-clad fists raised—charged at the Shadow Man, landing a brutal blow that sent him crashing into the ground. The impact created a massive crater, but the Shadow Man managed to block with his blades, using his strength to kick the man back.

Fury burned in his chest. He turned to face the metal-man, his blades flashing with cold resolve. He slashed through the man's body, cleaving him in half. But before the man could die, his body began to regenerate, pieces fusing back together.

The Shadow Man glanced towards the boss, his eyes locked with the source of all this chaos. "He is my target," he muttered, his voice quiet but determined.

With everything left in him, the Shadow Man rushed at the boss, dodging the countless attacks aimed at him. His blades were sharp and fast, striking with precision—but each attack only seemed to cause more pain to himself than his opponent.

He landed a vital strike, but before he could finish the job, a jagged rock pierced his back, its sharp edge driving deep into his flesh. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as he drove forward. The boss howled in pain, and for a brief moment, the Shadow Man felt a flicker of victory.

"If I die... you will come with me, my friend," the Shadow Man whispered, his breath shallow as his strength began to falter. He drove both blades through the boss's heart, his last act of defiance.

But the pain was too much. Rocks pierced his lungs, his legs, his stomach. His vision blurred, and the weight of his injuries finally overwhelmed him. He collapsed to the ground, his weapons vanishing into the darkness.

As he lay there, gasping for breath, he gazed up at the full moon above. "I am sorry, my son," he murmured weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

And with that, the Shadow Man breathed his last, the world falling silent around him.