My stomach is burning.
It feels as if molten metal is tearing through my skin and pouring inside me.
I can see nothing. I can hear nothing.
Even the pain begins to feel distant, as if every thread connecting me to reality is snapping one by one.
Am I dying?
I finally saved Dad... am I really going to die here?
I don’t want to die. I want to live a little longer, but I cannot drag my consciousness back from the darkness swallowing me whole.
If this is the end, I wanted to touch Dad one last time.
I wanted to fall asleep feeling his warmth.
But even when I tried to move my fingers, there was nothing there. All I could feel was the cold touch of the floor.
Then, suddenly, a warmth touched my fingertips.
It was someone's warmth.
But it wasn't Dad's.
My sight was gone and my sense of smell was numb, but I knew that much.
Then who was it? The warmth was unfamiliar, yet profoundly comforting.
As I felt it, something sleeping at the bottom of a distant memory began to take shape.
I cannot remember exactly what it was. But I know it instinctively.
Half of the foundation that makes me who I am.
The first warmth I ever knew when I was born.
“M...om...?”
I barely managed to move my trembling lips.
“Is it... you, Mom...?”
Did you come to take me? I wanted to ask, but I couldn't.
My consciousness sank completely into the void.
Within that darkness, I let out a small, faint sigh.
Ah, I have to tell her it's not time yet...
I have to tell her I can't go because I still have things to do...
At that moment, a fire ignited in my chest.
The brilliant blaze swept away the darkness, racing through my veins and reheating my cooling body.
What is this fire?
I didn't know what it was, but for some reason, a sensation of something delicious lingered on the tip of my tongue.
***
“Puhah!!”
I pushed away the rubble and hauled myself up.
I spat out the dust that had filled my mouth, but it didn't make me feel any cleaner.
Perhaps because I had fallen from a height of only one story, I hadn't been seriously injured. I had also managed to avoid being crushed by any large concrete slabs.
However, the only thing I could confirm was that my body was intact.
Before I could assess anything else, a dark red tentacle came crashing toward me.
“Gah?!”
KWA-GA-GA-GA-GA-BOOOOM!!!
I rolled sideways to dodge, and the dark red tentacle shot past me, slamming into the pile of rubble.
Stone fragments exploded in every direction, like a bowling ball hitting a perfect strike.
Shielding my head with my arm to block the debris, I cursed myself.
Idiot! Don’t relax just because you're in one piece! The fight is still going!
Unlike me, a mere civilian, Hitokawa was a professional.
From the moment the floor collapsed until the second I regained consciousness, he had never once stopped his desperate struggle against the Artist.
Clang! Crash! Clang!!
But the tide of battle did not look promising.
He had already struggled against two Kagune; now that three were whipping around without pause, he couldn't even get close.
Furthermore, the environment was working against him.
We had fallen into an underground corridor. The Artist moved fluidly between the walls and ceiling, dodging Hitokawa’s attacks and counterattacking from impossible angles.
It was only natural that he was struggling when attacks kept coming from directions he could never have predicted.
The Artist hadn't broken the floor to show off his strength; he had done it to force the fight into a space where he held every advantage.
By now, Hitokawa’s body was marred by several deep wounds.
More critical, however, was the state of the Quinque.
Cracks that looked ready to shatter at any moment were spreading across the greatsword as it continued to endure the monstrous power of the Kagune.
I had to help. With that thought, I leveled my gun.
“Don’t interfere.”
“Damn it!”
Noticing my movement, the Artist swung a Kagune back toward me.
BOOOOM!!!
If I didn't dodge, I'd be dead, so I threw myself aside with everything I had. With the bastard's reach extending so far, it was nearly impossible to provide support for Hitokawa.
Damn it! Is there no other way!
No matter how I looked at it, we were trapped. In terms of combat power, terrain, and killing intent, the enemy was superior in every way.
In my frustration, I shouted to Hitokawa.
“Hitokawa! Got any good ideas?!”
Clang!!
Hitokawa shouted back while fending off a Kagune stabbing toward him.
“How about the ‘leave this to me and run away with Eto’ plan?!”
“Rejected!!”
Stop talking nonsense.
I couldn't leave him behind, and unless we finished this here, that monster would never stop hunting us.
Bang!!
Seeing Hitokawa’s stance falter for a moment, the Artist attempted a follow-up attack. I fired without hesitation.
The Artist was forced to use one of his three Kagune to block the bullet.
But the other two were still a threat. Hitokawa managed to deflect one as he recovered his balance, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the other.
Sharp scales ripped a massive chunk of flesh from Hitokawa’s thigh.
“KRAAAAH!!!”
“Hitokawa!!”
The hit had landed squarely. His leg shook as if it might snap, and blood sprayed violently.
Without pausing, the Artist swung the Kagune he had used to block the bullet. Even while reeling from the pain, Hitokawa raised his greatsword to block the blow.
His will to fight in such a desperate situation was admirable, but unfortunately, his weapon could no longer sustain that will.
CRAAAAACK!!!
With a deafening shriek, the greatsword—pushed far beyond its limit—shattered like a ceramic plate.
“No!!”
I rushed forward and caught Hitokawa as he was blown back by the impact.
Fortunately, it seemed the breaking Quinque had absorbed most of the shock, as the Kagune hadn't pierced through his body.
Still, the damage was severe; Hitokawa’s consciousness seemed hazy as he slumped against me.
Step.
The Artist approached us. He walked with an arrogant confidence, as if he no longer felt the need to use the walls or ceiling.
“At last, it is just the two of us.”
“……!!”
Click.
I aimed my gun at him.
I knew it was a futile threat. Sure enough, the bastard looked at me with eager eyes and spread his arms wide.
He was inviting me to shoot.
His entire posture was a demand: Show me your emotions. Let them bloom.
I hesitated.
Should I really fire? At this range, I wouldn't miss, but I knew he wouldn't just stand there and take it.
If it were for revenge, I would have done it. I wanted to be free from the hatred that constantly tried to bind me.
But no. That wasn't the priority right now.
“……”
In the end, I didn't pull the trigger.
Instead, I decided to take a dangerous gamble.
“Hey. You said you wanted me as your material, right?”
“Hm? Well, yes.”
“Then I'll give myself to you. Take me.”
“……What?”
“In exchange, let my friend and the child go. That is my condition.”
The Artist looked genuinely surprised. Then, he narrowed his eyes in displeasure.
“What is this?”
“What do you think? It's a deal.”
“That’s not the point!”
The Artist shouted in frustration, thumping his own chest.
“You should be shooting me! The man who killed your father, stabbed the child, and is now about to kill your friend is standing right here! Show me your rage! Show me your hatred! Give me those vivid emotions!!!”
“Does revenge put food on the table? Does hatred save the people I care about? Just let those two go. If you do, I'll give you all the hatred and revenge you can handle.”
“I have no use for emotions that feel like childish games!!!”
The Artist screamed, truly enraged. His Kakugan blazed with intensity, exerting a crushing pressure on me.
But my mind remained firm.
If the hatred was mine and the revenge was mine, then I would decide how to use them.
Whether I detonated them to kill, or set them aside to save someone.
To the Artist, however, this was an intolerable insult.
He scratched his head violently in irritation, then suddenly, a meaningful smile curled the corners of his mouth.
“You don’t want me to kill them? Fine. I won’t kill them.”
“……”
“Instead, I’ll keep them alive and torment them. I’ll sever their limbs, pull out their organs piece by piece, and make sure you hear every single one of their screams! Let’s see if you can still say the same thing then, shall we?”
“……Sigh.”
A sigh escaped me.
I hadn't expected the deal to work, but I hadn't expected him to be this viciously stubborn either. If he was going to play it this way, I had no other choice.
In a way, I was almost grateful.
If there was no way to save them, and no way to protect myself... if the outcome was the same regardless of what I did...
Then that means I can just throw everything away and go wild at the end, right?
“Fine. Let’s just die together, you bastard.”
The Artist beamed, finally seeing the expression he had craved.
I gripped the pistol in one hand and Hitokawa’s broken greatsword in the other.
Most of the blade was gone, leaving only the hilt and a small portion of the base, yet it still felt incredibly heavy. I wondered how Hitokawa had managed to swing such a thing.
Clutching both weapons tightly, I glared at the Artist.
Like a photographer desperate to capture a moment, the Artist framed me with his thumbs and index fingers, looking at me through the makeshift rectangle.
“Magnificent! This is exactly the ultimate form of emotion I was searching for!! Today is truly the greatest day of my life!!”
Unable to contain his ecstasy, three Kagune exploded from his waist. They surged toward me simultaneously, each one carrying a terrifying momentum.
Unless a miracle occurred, I wouldn't survive. Fully aware of that, I braced myself for death and charged straight into the attack.
And then...
“The greatest day?”
Ridiculously enough...
“I think you meant the unluckiest day of your life.”
KWA-GA-GA-GA-CRACK!!!
A miracle happened right before my eyes.
The Kagune that had been lunging at me like living snakes were sliced into fragments and scattered, as if they had been shredded by a colossal blade.
Both the Artist and I gasped in unison. In the center of the sudden silence, a bird flew in.
Seeing the bird land on the floor, folding its torn, blanket-like wings, I shouted instinctively.
“E-Eto?!”
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