The Forgotten Pages

Haruto Imai shouldn't have found the book.

It was buried beneath the temple ruins, concealed behind mounds of dust and forgotten prayers. The walls of the cavern were wet, inhaling the darkness as if it were alive. A peculiar energy pressed against his skin, burrowing beneath his flesh.

But Haruto didn't mind.

His fingers trembled as he traced the cracked surface of the worn leather book. Ancient—but not falling apart. No dust coated it. The pages, when he ran his hand over them, weren't yellowed. The ink was rich and wet, as if someone had sat down to write the day before.

"Wow."

And then he started reading.

"The Hollow Decade did not end."

"It was buried."

"The truth is not gone. The truth is waiting."

Chills danced up his spine.

Haruto swallowed hard, forcing himself to turn the page.

"The Great Divine Council fears it."

"They think it is sealed."

"They are wrong."

The letters distorted. The ink bled, oozing across the parchment in deformed lines. It was not a book. It was a warning.

Then—a voice.

"Put it down."

Haruto tensed.

The cave was supposed to be deserted.

A shadow loomed over the gate. The air grew heavy, oppressive with an unnatural silence. A figure stood forth, his armor glinting like black glass, reflecting nothing. His scarlet cloak billowed after him, scraping against the stone like a pool of fresh blood.

Field General Kuraimono.

Haruto's breath caught.

His voice was too low.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

Haruto gulped hard, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Why is it a secret?" His voice croaked. "What happened during the Hollow Decade?"

Kuraimono moved forward cautiously.

"You ask the wrong questions."

Haruto curled his hand over the book. "The people have a right to know!"

A silence.

Then—a laugh.

Low. Amused.

"And now you sound just like them."

Haruto's heart fell.

"The ones who thought they could change history."

Kuraimono raised a hand.

And then—Haruto screamed.

An invisible force shoved into him, twisting his nerves, setting his insides on fire. His bones cracked, his skin burnt, his mind—his mind was unwrapping like it was a gift.

He stumbled. Shuddering.

Kuraimono took the book from his hands.

"Curiosity is a disease, Haruto."

He turned a page, not fazed by Haruto's pain.

"And you just infected your entire village."

Haruto stumbled out of the wreckage, blind in one eye, his gasps unsteady. His body was crying out in pain, but it was nothing—nothing—next to what he saw.

His village burned.

Fire twisted in unnatural shapes, alive and writhing, slithering through the streets with a purpose. The flames were laughing—a whispering chorus inching through the crackling embers.

People ran.

People screamed.

And then there was darkness.

They were not human.

They were nothing. Just bent, stretched-out bodies pulling people into the dark. And the people—they did not even die. They just vanished. Wiped out.

His mother. His father. His sister.

Their home—vanished.

Haruto's throat closed. His legs buckled.

"No... no, no, no—"

And he saw him.

Kuraimono stood there in the middle of it all, his scarlet cloak unspotted by the fire, his hands behind his back, folded.

Laughing hysterically

Haruto's sight reddened.

"WHY?" His throat aching, his fury scrabbling at his voice. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

Kuraimono gave him a look. Distant. Cold.

"Because knowledge is not to be played with."

Soft. So calm.

"And this village was infested."

Haruto plunged forward.

Not to flee from it. Into his face.

No weapon. No strategy. No anything but raw, pounding fury screaming in his veins.

Kuraimono raised one hand.

Haruto didn't make it halfway.

Something within snapped.

Pain—clean, endless, unbearable pain—slash through his body, and his world came apart.

Haruto woke to darkness.

The air was thick, pressing down on his lungs like wet cloth. His wrists were bound—chains gnawed into his flesh, suspending him over the ground.

The walls... breathed.

The ceiling curved up into nothing, consuming the light. The silence was so deep, so vast, that he seemed to float in the void itself.

Then—a voice.

"You lasted longer than I expected."

Kuraimono.

Haruto's head twitched back, his breath harsh.

"Where am I?" He forced the words out in a normal voice, but they cracked. They sounded raw, weak.

Kuraimono materialized into the pale illumination of floundering torches. His face split with a wide, sadistic grin.

"Hades' Lockdown 2."

Haruto clamped his jaw.

"What do you want?" The rasp was more pronounced than usual but will remain inside.

Kuraimono chuckled again, his grin spreading wider.

Haruto glared at him, shaking, but not with fear. With rage.

"You murdered them all." His voice shook. "You burned my village. My family—my people—for what?!"

Kuraimono sighed.

"You still believe this is about you?" He stepped forward, shadows writhing at his feet.

Haruto strained against his chains, his breathing harsh. "You work for the GDC. What are they so afraid of?!"

Kuraimono cocked his head.

"Not fear."

He brought his head closer, setting the back of his black-gloved hand upon Haruto's chest.

"Control."

Haruto bellowed.

But Kuraimono didn't flinch.

"Did you believe knowledge was a right?"

His voice soft, like the scolding tone of a father.

"Did you believe the Hollow Decade was concealed from fear?"

Haruto's gaze faded. His mind splintered.

"No."

Kuraimono leaned forward, whispering in his skull.

"It was sealed... to keep the world from remembering what is coming."

Haruto cried, but now his voice was barely more than a whisper. "What... what is coming?"

Kuraimono's smile returned.

"That... is the wrong question. Well, enjoy your torture till you die."

Like Kuraimono said. It was torture.

Everyday in the morning the guards turned the temperature up to 60 degrees Celsius.

And in the night they turned it down to 0.

He only got water once every 2 days.

He had no blanket or bed.

His food was only once a week.

And after all that. All Haruto could do was think, Why... Why

The cell door groaned open.

Haruto didn't even lift his head.

What now?

They had beaten him enough times for him to know the routine. The footsteps, the cruel laughter, the metallic jingle of chains—it was all the same. They'd throw another prisoner in, another broken soul meant to rot beside him. And he would pretend not to care.

Until he heard the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Soft. Too soft.

Haruto's breath stalled. Something inside him twisted.

Then came a weak, ragged breath.

No.

Not her.

He turned his head, and his stomach clenched like a vice.

Aya.

She was barely there. Sunken cheeks. Dull, lifeless eyes. Skin too pale, streaked with grime and blood. She looked smaller somehow, like the weight of her suffering had compressed her into something fragile, something brittle.

The guards laughed. "Try not to die too fast," one of them sneered. "It's more fun when you last."

The door slammed shut, and their voices faded into the depths of the prison.

Haruto couldn't move. His body felt like lead. His throat was dry. He tried to speak, but the words stuck, caught behind the weight of something he couldn't name.

Aya's fingers twitched against the cold stone. Slowly, she lifted her head, her lips parting—but no words came out.

Haruto forced himself to move. Every step toward her felt like dragging his body through glass.

His hand reached out.

Aya flinched.

Haruto's chest tightened.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. She was just breathing—slow, shallow, painful. He saw her ribs move with every unsteady inhale. Saw the way her wrists had been rubbed raw by chains. Saw the way her body trembled, not from fear, but from exhaustion.

Then, finally, she whispered, "So... this is where you've been."

Haruto swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah." His voice was hoarse, barely above a murmur.

Aya let out a dry, breathless chuckle. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Haruto stared at her. She was broken. Not just physically. He could see it in her eyes—whatever hope she had left had already been shattered.

"You shouldn't be here," he muttered.

Aya turned her head slightly, looking at him with something unreadable. "Neither should you."

His hands curled into fists.

He knew exactly what that meant.

Aya looked at him again, something distant in her expression. "Haruto... they don't let people go, do they?"

Haruto didn't answer.

She already knew.

No one left The Hades' Lockdown Prisons. Not alive.

Aya exhaled shakily. "I thought... I thought maybe I could do something." Her voice cracked. "I thought maybe I could help."

Something inside him fractured.

Help?

There was no helping. There was no escaping. No fighting. No resisting. There was only survival, and even that was temporary.

"You shouldn't have tried," Haruto muttered.

Aya let out a weak chuckle. "You always were the pessimist."

"I'm not a pessimist," he said, voice hollow. "I'm just not a liar."

Silence.

Aya's gaze dropped.

For a moment, he thought she might cry. But she didn't. She just stared at the ceiling, her eyes empty.

"I don't want to die here," she whispered.

Haruto closed his eyes.

Neither did he.

But that didn't matter.

No one was coming. No one cared.

They were already dead.

The air in the cramped, dimly lit room was thick with a suffocating feeling of inevitability. Haruto's chest felt heavy, each breath coming with a strain he was unfamiliar with. The silence was louder than any explosion or war cry they had ever heard on the battlefield. There was no avoiding it—their situation had settled in with an implacable weight. Kuraimono's departure had not just marked the end of a conversation, but the end of all that they had fought for, all that they had believed in.

Aya had collapsed next to him, her head against the cold stone wall as if it could give her even a small comfort. She had stopped crying hours earlier, as if the well of tears had run dry. There was only a emptiness, a void where their hope had been.

Haruto's hands clawed into the rough stone beneath him, as though he could cling to something solid, something real. But the truth was, there was nothing solid left. The world they had understood, the people they had trusted, had all been shattered by forces too vast, too outside their understanding. And now, they were alone. Alone in the dark.

The fire that had once burned in Haruto's chest, that untamed, uncompromising desire to just keep going no matter the cost, was fading away. It was as if the fire had been doused and only a smoldering ember remained. He could still feel the heat of it—faint, almost imperceptible—but it was not enough to light the path ahead of him. There was no path.

He glanced to the side at Aya, her eyes glassy and unfocused, staring into the void that surrounded them. He had, for a moment, thought that she had drifted off to sleep, but the way her hand moved, the faint curl of her fist showed otherwise. She was still awake, still trapped within her own head.

"We were supposed to stop this from happening, weren't we?" She whispered, and Haruto realized that she was not asking a question she needed an answer to. She knew, deep down, that there was no answer left to give.

He didn't know what to say. The truth was, they'd been trying to fight a war that had been lost many years before they'd ever stepped foot in the ring. It was not just Kuraimono's words that had broken them—it was the sum of everything that had come before. The Hollow Decade. The lost kingdom. The Shadow King's plans unfolding, piece by piece, beyond their comprehension. Every step they had taken had brought them only deeper into a trap, and now they were at the bottom of it, staring up at a sky that would never again be light.

Haruto gulped, the bitterness of that information rising up his throat like a poison he could not shake. There was no escape. No one was coming to save them. They had been tossed away, forgotten, and left to rot in this hole of misery.

"I don't think we were ever meant to win," Haruto said, his voice cracking under the weight of it all crushing down on him. He didn't know if he was talking to Aya or to himself. Maybe it didn't matter anymore. "We were just. distractions. Pawns on a board. All this. it was never really about us."

Aya's lips trembled, and for a moment, Haruto thought that she might say something more, but she did not. Instead, she shut her eyes, as if she might be able to keep the world out completely. Her shoulders convulsed in the quiet, and Haruto could discern the faint outline of her breath catching, but there were no further tears. There was nothing.

There was a thick silence then, hanging between them like a chasm that neither of them could cross. Haruto's head reeled, replaying every battle, every conversation, every shred of hope they'd clung to. And yet, every single one of those moments sounded hollow now. The endless battling, the sacrifices—they all seemed so futile in the face of this insurmountable truth. He could see it now, in the swirling visions behind his eyes: the faces of the dead, the broken pieces of what had once been their lives. It had all been some plan they couldn't even begin to understand. And here they were now.

"Why do we keep going?" Aya's voice was barely a whisper, a breath on the wind. "What's the point?"

Haruto had nothing to say. How could he? What was the point of continuing when the end result was already known? They were merely survivors in a world that no longer had any place for them.

"We keep going because we have to," he whispered, though even as the words left his lips, he knew they were meaningless. It was the same hollow mantra they had said to themselves for so long, but it didn't hold true anymore. They had lived because they didn't know how to die. Now, they didn't even know if living was worth it.

The minutes passed into hours, and still no one came. No grand revelation, no twist of fate, no miracle. Just the silence of the broken world, the crushing embrace of despair tightening and tightening around them.

The distant groan of something shifting outside their cell—a guard's footsteps, perhaps, or the wind—was the only thing that pierced the silence. But it did not matter. Nothing mattered now. There was nothing they could do.

Aya's voice again, more subdued than ever, "I don't know if I can do this anymore.".

Haruto's heart clenched at the words, the desperation in her tone. She was giving up. And in some way, so was he. They had given everything they had—everything they were—and still, it had all come to this.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though he knew the apology meant nothing. They were both too far gone. Too broken. Too far beyond redemption.

And they sat there in the dark, both of them alone with their thoughts, waiting for what was inevitable. There was no rescue. No hope. Only a barren, empty silence that would soon take them, bit by bit.

The days went by countless torture and pain were inflicted upon them.

Suddenly one day. The sirens started, "We're under attack!" The guards screamed.

Haruto and Aya woke up, "Huh?"

They heard explosions.

"What? This Prison has never been broken in. Before" A guard exclaimed.

Smoke covered the entire area.

"Well, there's always a first time." A voice said.

"The leader of the Elite is here!"

"What? Raiden Hikaru is here?" Haruto muttered.

"Someone came out of the wall.", Bright red hair. Muscly but slim, red eyes, bright skin, radiant like the sun itself, bright smile. It was Raiden. Leader of the Elite of that time.

He glanced at Haruto and smiled before turning away to fight the guards. (No. Scratch that.) Before he made them collapse with a single touch.

With a swift motion, he unleashed a massive wave of Ikari, crashing into the guards and knocking them out instantly.

The prison walls trembled under the force of Raiden's attack. The deafening sound of bodies slamming into the cold stone echoed through the halls. Smoke and dust filled the air as unconscious guards collapsed in heaps, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground.

Haruto gripped the iron bars of his cell, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. Across from him, Aya pressed herself against the cold wall, staring in shock at the chaos unfolding.

Raiden stood tall in the dim light, his bright red hair glowing, his sharp eyes scanning the cells until they landed on Haruto and Aya. A slow grin stretched across his face.

"You're late," Haruto muttered, gripping the bars tighter.

Raiden stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "You're still a pain, huh?" Without hesitation, he grabbed the iron bars and pulled. Metal groaned and twisted under his strength, warping out of shape until the lock snapped clean off.

Aya gasped, watching the effortless display of power. "Raiden...?"

"Yeah, yeah, no time for reunions," he said, glancing at the end of the hallway. Heavy boots pounded against stone. More guards were coming.

"Don't let them escape!" one shouted as a group of armoured men rushed forward, weapons drawn.

Raiden exhaled, and in an instant, Ikari surged from his body—a pulse of raw, untamed energy. The pressure alone sent dust swirling in the air. He shot forward, too fast for the eye to track, and the first guard barely had time to react before a devastating blow struck his chest, sending him flying into the stone wall. Another swung a sword, but Raiden ducked, driving his elbow into the man's ribs and finishing with a sharp kick that sent him skidding across the floor.

Haruto watched, his mind racing. Raiden hadn't changed at all—still a force of nature, still completely unstoppable.

Aya clutched his sleeve. "We need to move. More will come."

Raiden turned, his grin unfazed. "Then we'd better hurry. Let's get the hell out of here."

As Raiden, Haruto, and Aya hurried through the chaotic prison halls, the deafening sound of alarms blared from every corner. The entire complex was on high alert now. Automated turrets powered up, and the distant whirr of gears told them the prison's many traps were ready to be unleashed.

"I told you this place was a nightmare," Haruto muttered, glancing over his shoulder.

Raiden grinned, his bright red hair gleaming even in the dim light. "Well, someone's gotta make it fun."

Suddenly, the floor trembled beneath them, and the walls around them rumbled. The prison was fighting back. Haruto barely had time to react as large, metal gates slammed down in front of them, blocking the hallway.

"No way," Aya gasped. "This place is full of traps, but it's not supposed to go on lockdown this fast!"

Raiden's grin didn't falter. With a single motion, he raised his hand, releasing a pulse of Ikari energy. The walls cracked, but the gates stood firm.

Haruto's heart raced. The defenses were stronger than he remembered. But Raiden wasn't about to back down.

Raiden's eyes gleamed with focus. "Get back."

Before either Haruto or Aya could say anything, Raiden surged forward, crashing his fist into the metal gate. The impact sent a shockwave through the air. Sparks flew, and the sound of grinding metal filled the hall. The gate bent and twisted, groaning in protest, but it refused to give way.

"Not enough," Raiden muttered, pulling back. He then slammed his palm against the gate, focusing his Ikari energy into it. The pressure built up until the force exploded outward. The gate shattered with a deafening crack, sending jagged pieces of metal flying through the air. The dust clouded the hallway for a moment, but Raiden was already moving.

"There's no time to waste," Raiden growled, his eyes scanning ahead as he moved with purpose. "They're sending the big guns now."

Before Haruto and Aya could catch up, Raiden was already charging ahead. The two hurried after him, but the further they went, the thicker the air seemed to get. The walls of the prison weren't just reinforced—they were alive, shifting as if the whole structure was trying to crush them.

More guards rushed in, their weapons drawn. But just as quickly, Raiden slammed into them like a tidal wave. One by one, they were knocked aside, unable to land a single blow on the unstoppable force that was Raiden. 

"Raiden, wait!" Aya shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the destruction around them.

But the real danger was just ahead. As Raiden broke through the last set of prison doors, they were met with a massive, swirling vortex of energy. It pulsed with dark, dangerous power—this was no ordinary trap.

"The Warden," Haruto whispered, his voice low with dread. "He's the only one capable of triggering this kind of defense."

Raiden stopped, his expression darkening for the first time since they began their escape. The swirling vortex began to pull in the very air around them, and a deep, menacing laugh echoed from the shadows.

"You think you can escape this place, Raiden Hikaru?" The voice was cold, calculating. "You've underestimated me."

A hulking figure stepped from the shadows—massive, armored, and glowing with the same dark energy that seemed to emanate from the prison itself. The Warden, taller and more imposing than ever, grinned maliciously.

"I think it's you who underestimated me," Raiden snarled, his energy flaring up once more, "And yes I did think I could escape."

The Warden raised his hand, and with a loud crack, the ground beneath them cracked open, revealing a pit of swirling shadows.

"You're too late, Raiden," the Warden said coldly. "This prison was designed to contain you."

Without warning, the vortex surged, the air thickening as gravity itself seemed to shift. The walls twisted around them, and in an instant, the prison had become a labyrinth of shifting corridors, each filled with traps and dead ends.

But Raiden only laughed. "I didn't come here to be contained. I came to tear this place apart."

Raiden's power surged again, and in an instant, he was at the Warden's side. The two collided in a blur of motion—Raiden's Ikari energy clashing against the Warden's dark, swirling force.

Haruto and Aya watched, their eyes wide in shock and fear. The power of the two was incomprehensible. The air itself seemed to crackle with the intensity of the battle.

"Get out of here, now!" Raiden shouted as he sent the Warden stumbling backward with a massive blast of Ikari. "I'll hold him off."

"No, Raiden, we can't just leave you!" Aya cried, but Raiden's piercing gaze stopped her.

"Don't worry about me," Raiden said, grinning. "You two just get the hell out of here. I'll be fine."

The prison itself seemed to tremble as the fight between Raiden and the Warden escalated, both of their energies clashing in violent bursts. Haruto and Aya had no choice but to turn and run, knowing that their only chance of survival was to escape the prison while Raiden held the Warden back.

With every step they took, the walls closed in on them, the sound of explosions and combat echoing behind them. The prison was a beast—a monstrous, alive thing—but they couldn't let it swallow them whole.

The gates ahead were within sight. Just a little further, and they'd be free.

This is it. After 6 months of hell.

The gates loomed ahead, framed by rivers of molten lava that flowed like molten veins through the dark rock. The sharp smell of sulfur lingered in the air as Raiden, Haruto, and Aya pushed forward, their eyes locked on the exit. It was just a little further—freedom was within their grasp.

But as they neared the gates, a tremor ran through the ground. A low rumble echoed from deep within the volcano, followed by a distant roar. The air grew heavier, thick with anticipation.

Out of the shadows emerged the first of the Grand Generals, their forms casting long, menacing silhouettes against the fiery backdrop. Their presence alone seemed to warp the air around them, as if the very world itself was bending to their will.

General Arvid, a mountain of muscle, stood with his fists clenched, fire licking the edges of his skin. His skin, dark as charred embers, glowed faintly, like the core of a volcano. His eyes locked onto Raiden's with disdain, his every movement radiating raw power.

Beside him stood Kori, a woman who seemed made of ice itself. Her frosted hair billowed around her like a storm cloud, and her cold eyes, pale blue and calculating, tracked every motion with perfect precision. Ice formed at her feet as she lifted a hand, her fingers dancing like a conductor guiding an orchestra of death.

Then came Bael, the Earthshaker, towering and wide, his legs like the trunks of ancient trees. His fists pounded the ground, cracking the stone beneath him as he let out a low growl. The earth trembled in response, quaking under his command.

Lyra, the Storm Serpent, appeared next, her body a blur of motion as she flicked her wrist, summoning sparks of lightning that cracked through the air. Her eyes glinted with mischief and madness as she coiled around, ready to strike.

Kaze, the Wind Warlord, was a figure of fluid grace, his body a silhouette in the whirlwind he conjured around him. Every movement he made seemed to stir the air, as though he was part of the storm itself. The winds howled in response to his presence, a storm in human form.

And finally, from the shadows, emerged Ragna, the Shadow Beast, his form barely visible in the dark. His eyes burned red, and his presence bent the shadows, turning the dim light into an inky, suffocating darkness. Every step he took left traces of night itself in his wake.

Raiden stood, unmoving, his eyes scanning the enemies before him. The storm inside him began to stir, gathering power, a quiet fury that would soon be unleashed.

Arvid was the first to move, charging forward with a roar. His fists, ablaze with fire, swung down like anvils toward Raiden's head. Raiden didn't flinch. His body shifted as if the storm inside him had a mind of its own. With a single breath, he drew in the air, and then...

"Storm Lord. Eye of the Storm."

The winds howled to life, a swirling vortex of lightning and thunder that tore through the battlefield. The storm engulfed Arvid, his fiery strikes scattered by the violent winds. With a crack of thunder, Arvid was sent flying backward, his body slamming against the volcanic rock.

Kori didn't hesitate, summoning a blade of ice from the very air, her movements swift and graceful. She hurled the blade, the icy shard slicing through the air. But Raiden was already moving, his form becoming a blur as he raised his arm, a crackling bolt of lightning forming in his palm.

"Storm Lord. Thunderclap of the Sovereign."

The bolt shot out, striking the icy blade, shattering it into fragments. Kori's eyes widened as the lightning coursed through her, sending her stumbling back, her skin tingling with the raw power.

Bael's roar rumbled as he lifted his massive fists, slamming them down into the earth. The ground cracked, huge boulders shooting up toward Raiden. But Raiden's eyes flashed, and the very world around him twisted.

"Sovereign's Wrath. Reality Forge."

With a flick of his wrist, the stone walls around them morphed, creating a massive barrier, the boulders crashing harmlessly into it. The ground quaked, but Raiden stood firm, the barrier surrounding him like an impenetrable shield.

Lyra struck next, lightning arcing from her fingers, crackling through the air. She moved with speed, the storm she commanded coiling around her like a serpent. But Raiden didn't move—he became the storm. His body surged with energy, his hands outstretched.

"Storm Lord. Tempest Fist."

His fist collided with the air, a shockwave of raw energy exploding outward. The lightning around Lyra was torn apart by the force of the blast, her body thrown back by the sheer power. She hit the ground hard, her body twitching from the shock.

Kaze, the wind itself, rushed forward, his body blurring in the gusts of air he whipped up. He struck with the force of a cyclone, his movements faster than the eye could track. Raiden moved with equal speed, his body flowing like the wind itself.

"Sovereign's Wrath. Sovereign's Domain."

The winds stopped, the air growing thick and heavy as gravity seemed to shift. Kaze's movements slowed, his eyes widening in confusion as his body became sluggish. The very laws of nature bent to Raiden's will, and Kaze was caught, trapped in the unnatural stillness.

Finally, Ragna, the shadows, slithered toward Raiden. He struck from the darkness, his blades of night slashing through the air with deadly precision. But Raiden's eyes glinted with determination as he held up his hand.

"Sovereign's Wrath. Sovereign's Domain."

The shadows around Ragna twisted, contorted, and vanished. His shadow blades dissolved into nothingness as Raiden bent the reality around them, the very essence of the night fading at his touch.

The generals, one by one, staggered back, their forces scattering into the distance as Raiden's storm and will crushed their hopes of victory. Their attacks had been powerful, but Raiden's mastery over the storm and reality had shattered them all.

The air settled, and Raiden, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, turned toward Haruto and Aya.

"Let's go," he said, his voice calm.

The gates loomed ahead, their massive frame like a final, unyielding test. They were almost free—just a few more steps and the dangers of Hades' Lockdown would be behind them. But as they neared the gates, Raiden, Haruto, and Aya stopped. Aya's eyes, filled with uncertainty, darted between them.

"Something's wrong," Aya muttered, her fingers twitching around the hilt of her blade. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Raiden, ever composed, narrowed his eyes. He glanced at her briefly, but then focused on the gates ahead. "We've come this far. We're leaving now."

Aya's gaze shifted toward Haruto, her expression unreadable. Haruto, ever the skeptic, noticed the subtle shift in her posture. Something was off—something didn't feel right.

Before he could voice his concerns, Aya's face twisted into a cold smirk. She moved faster than Haruto could react, drawing her blade from its sheath with deadly precision.

"I never intended to be part of your plan," she said, the words icy and final.

Haruto's eyes widened. He barely had time to process what was happening before the blade sunk into his side, the sharp steel cutting deep. The pain exploded through his body, and he staggered back, his legs unable to hold him. Blood pooled beneath him.

Raiden stood still, his face betraying no emotion, watching as the drama unfolded.

"Aya, what are you—" Haruto gasped, clutching his side. His vision blurred, pain clouding his senses.

"You were always too trusting," Aya spat, taking a step back, the blade still dripping with his blood. "The village, your family—it was never my fault. It's because of you! You never should've let them die." Her voice grew colder with each word. "And now, I'm finishing what I started. You're nothing but a liability."

Haruto's breath hitched as his body struggled to stay conscious. The weight of her words stung more than the wound. "Why?" he whispered weakly, struggling to stay conscious. "Why now? After everything..."

But Aya didn't answer. With a cold glance at Raiden, she turned and disappeared into the shadows of the prison, leaving Haruto alone and bleeding.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, Raiden moved, his steps deliberate and controlled. He knelt beside Haruto, his eyes unreadable as he observed the damage.

"This was inevitable," Raiden said quietly. "Aya's loyalty was always in question. She was never meant for this."

Haruto's hand trembled, but he couldn't speak. He could only stare at Raiden, too weak to understand what was happening. The blood loss was making his thoughts muddled, but there was something in Raiden's tone that didn't sit right with him.

Raiden's cold, calculating eyes met his. "You, however, have a much greater purpose. And I'm not about to let you die over her foolishness."

With that, Raiden placed his hands on Haruto's shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. His voice was firm as he spoke.

"I'm taking you to a place where you can heal. This kingdom has more to offer you than anything else. I'll make sure you fulfill your potential."

(7 Hours later)

Hours later, Haruto awoke in a spacious, quiet room. His body felt... different. No pain. His side was completely healed, the wound from Aya's betrayal a distant memory. He blinked, confusion clouding his thoughts. Where am I?

Raiden's voice cut through the fog of his mind. "You're in the Sorcerer Kingdom. You're safe."

Haruto sat up slowly, looking around the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was luxurious—vast, almost regal in its design. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, ancient scrolls lining shelves along every surface. This was no ordinary place.

"Why am I here?" Haruto croaked, his voice still weak from the blood loss. "What happened?"

Raiden stood by the door, his arms crossed, "I couldn't let you die, Haruto. Not yet. You have a role to play."

Haruto's mind was still foggy, but he remembered. Aya's betrayal. The anger, the pain, the betrayal. His heart clenched, but he pushed it aside. "What role?"

Raiden walked over to him, his expression unreadable. "I've been watching you for a long time. Your skills, your mind—your ability to adapt and survive. You're valuable. That's why I brought you here. This is the Sorcerer Kingdom—the heart of all power. And now, you have a place in it."

Haruto's brows furrowed. "And what about Aya? Why... Why didn't you stop her?"

Raiden's eyes flickered, but only for a moment. His voice remained cold. "She made her choice. She's not part of this anymore. You, however, are. I need someone who can help me reshape this kingdom. And you'll do just that."

Haruto was silent for a long moment, processing Raiden's words. The weight of the situation pressed down on him. He could feel the gravity of everything shifting beneath him.

"What happened to the prisoners?" Haruto asked.

"Don't worry... They are safe. They are being trained."

"Thank god."

Raiden continued, his voice firm. "I'm appointing you Chief Minister of Knowledge. You'll oversee the flow of information—research, history, magic. You'll learn everything about the world and help guide the kingdom's future."

Haruto was stunned. "Chief Minister of Knowledge? Me?"

Raiden nodded. "You've proven yourself capable. And now, you'll have access to the Ancient Library—the most comprehensive collection of knowledge in the world."

Haruto's heart raced. "The Ancient Library?"

Raiden smiled, though it was more of a slight quirk of the lips than any true warmth. "Yes. It holds the secrets of everything—history, magic, and more. It's where the true power of the Sorcerer Kingdom lies. And you will have a part in it."

Haruto stood, still reeling from everything that had happened. But one thing was certain: his life had changed irrevocably. His past, his future—they were all tied up in this kingdom now. And as he followed Raiden down the long corridors, heading toward the Ancient Library, he felt the gravity of his new position settling in.

There was much to learn. Much to uncover. And as he looked around, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever truly escape the shadows of betrayal that haunted him.

Raiden led him through the sprawling, labyrinthine halls, and at last, they reached a massive set of doors. With a wave of his hand, they swung open, revealing the Ancient Library in all its overwhelming grandeur. Shelves stretched to the ceiling, filled with ancient scrolls, books, and tomes that contained knowledge from across the ages.

"This is it," Raiden said quietly, his voice reverberating in the vastness of the room. "This is where you'll start your new life.".

"Raiden, I have a question..." Haruto looked into his eyes.

He continues, "What happens when the Shadow King's parts get connected together?"

Raiden laughed for a while and he stopped, "Well, obviously he will get revived. and then so will Ragnarök Arise. An army said to be created from Satan's life force itself. An army so powerful that Hell cast the army out of fear. Something even all the 11 Elites, Supreme Vanguards, GDC, the Shadow Cult, The Shadow King, The Jade Assassin and the Shadow King combined is not enough to defeat him."

He picked a book from the shelf and told me to read the last line on the book, it said, 

"When the pieces of the King of Shadows unite,

He'll rise from death, bringing terror and fright.

Then, Ragnarök will awaken, bringing endless fear,

An army forged from Satan's blood, drawing near.

A legion so vile, so wicked, and cruel,

That even Hell recoiled, its gates turned to fuel.

Ragnarök, cast deep within Earth's core,

A force so dark, it will burn evermore."