That´s Right... I´m A Monster In Disguise

Gunfire shattered the silence.

The crack of plasma rounds and the hiss of superheated air sent Aria’s body into motion before she could think. She hit the ground hard, skidding over loose rubble as a blast ripped through the space she’d occupied a second ago. The heat singed her cheek, the air alive with the scent of burning metal.

Neon moved first, his gloved hand snapping outward. Thin, silver cables shot from his fingertips, whipping through the air. They coiled around the nearest soldier with a sharp, metallic hiss, constricting his limbs. The soldier struggled, boots skidding against the ground, but the cables only tightened with each movement.

Aria barely had a moment to breathe before another shot screamed past her head, close enough that she felt the heat sear the edges of her jacket. Her pulse pounded against her skull.

They were pinned. Outgunned. Outmatched.

Her heart pounded as Neon’s weapon flickered in his grasp, shifting shape like a mirage. A sleek, gleaming lance. The transition was seamless. He hurled it, the lance embedding itself into a soldier’s weapon, sending sparks cascading through the air.

And then, the impossible happened.

One of the soldiers lifted a hand. His fingers splayed, revealing a network of glowing runes stitched into the fabric of his gloves. They pulsed with energy- wrong, twisted, something Aria couldn’t place. 

Not Nyxian magic. Not Militian. Something else.

The air tensed.

A silent ripple of force slammed into Neon like an invisible wrecking ball. He was airborne before he could react.

“Neon—”

He hit the ground hard, skidding across the rubble. He lay there for a moment—too long.

No. No, no, no.

Aria’s stomach dropped.

“Neon! ” She screamed, sprinting toward him, skidding to her knees beside him. He was bleeding, his breaths coming in short bursts.

“Hold on,” she whispered, pressing her hands to his chest. A faint glow flickered between her fingers, her healing energy sparking to life...

But she never got the chance.

A brutal impact crashed into her ribs, knocking her sideways. The world spun as she tumbled across the ground, jagged debris cutting into her palms. By the time she righted herself, pain lancing through her ribs, the soldier was already there. Towering. Weapon raised.

No.

Fear roared in her mind, white-hot and blinding.

Aria lunged.

Her fist met the soldier’s helmet with a bone-rattling crack. Pain burst up her arm like punching solid steel, but the force was enough to knock him off balance. He staggered back a step, but that was all. 

She wasn’t built for fighting. She didn’t know how  to fight.

Blood dripped from her knuckles, warm and stinging, but she had no time to feel it. Another soldier advanced, rifle raised...

And then Neon was there.

One moment, he was sprawled on the ground. The next, he was surging to his feet, his weapon morphing mid-motion. The sleek lance became a jagged-edged blade, dark and razor-sharp.

He moved like lightning.

The blade met armor with a vicious clang, sending sparks cascading through the night. The soldier stumbled, but not far. He barely flinched before retaliating, thrusting his palm forward. More runes ignited, a second pulse of invisible force rippling toward Neon.

But this time, Neon anticipated it.

He twisted his body, absorbing the brunt of the impact, boots sliding backward across the rubble. The air around him seemed to almost fracture, like reality itself was splintering under the pressure. His stance shifted, his grip tightening around his weapon.

The enemy hesitated.

Neon exhaled slowly.

His eyes, normally sharp and calculating, burned with something else now. Something lethal.

The impact wasn’t just felt. It was heard.

A deep, resonant crack that split the air like glass under too much pressure. The force rippled outward in an expanding shockwave, sending debris skidding across the ground, distorting the neon glow of the distant city lights.

The soldiers staggered. Their formation broke, their once-perfect discipline fracturing into uncertainty.

For the first time, they hesitated.

Disbelief flickered in their eyes, their unreadable helmets tilting slightly toward each other.

“That Nyxian…” One of them murmured, voice tinged with something close to astonishment. “Just who is he?”

Realization clawed at Aria´s thoughts, but it didn’t make sense.

Nyxians. His people- didn’t use magic. They barely believed in it. Their world was built on machines, on steel and circuitry, on logic.

Militians, on the other hand, were magic. Their entire civilization revolved around their healing abilities. But Militians had no technology, at least nothing like this.

So how?

Her pulse hammered against her ribs. The pieces didn’t fit. None of this fit.

Aria could only stare, chest heaving.

Her body ached, her breath was ragged, but for the first time since this fight began, she felt something deeper than fear as she watched Neon.

Hope.

Something dark flickered in Neon´s gaze, deep and consuming, like a storm unraveling behind his irises. Slowly, he straightened, his body moving with an unnatural stillness. The ruins around him blurred, fading into the periphery.

And suddenly...

He was a child again.

The scent of burning metal filled his nose, thick and acrid, choking the eternal night sky in clouds of black smoke. The world around him was fire and ruin, houses caved in like crushed bones, streets warped into jagged, unrecognizable wastelands. 

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. A thin, broken sound swallowed by the crackle of flames and the dying screams that had long since faded into silence.

His arms ached. His throat was raw from calling names that no one would ever answer again. His knees scraped against the shattered stone as he collapsed into the wreckage, his small body trembling.

It had always been loud, this city. Bustling streets, the constant noise of machinery, the chatter of voices weaving together into the pulse of something alive. Alive. 

But now—

Nothing. Just him.

The last ghost in a graveyard of steel and stone.

Neon lifted his gaze, his breath coming in short, shaking gasps. The embers reflected in his eyes, glowing red like molten glass.

He saw it before him.

Broken slabs of stone and collapsed beams had fallen in a way that almost looked deliberate. Twisted, jagged remnants of houses stacked atop one another, forming a fractured seat of ruin.

Neon staggered forward, his steps unsteady as he climbed the wreckage. His fingers dug into the cracks of shattered homes, gripping them as if he could hold onto something. Anything.

Then he reached the top. And he sat.

The moment his body sank into the broken makeshift throne, something inside him settled.

He was alone.

He was always going to be alone. 

And if that was the way of this world, if this was the fate carved into his skin before he was even given a chance, then he would reject this world itself.

He refused to accept it.

His small hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms until they bled. He lifted his head, the glow of the burning city casting long shadows over his face, and with the weight of loss pressed into his chest, he swore. 

He swore to become stronger.

He swore to carve out a future where no child would ever sit where he sat now.

He swore that no one—no war, no empire, no power—would ever take anything from him again.

And if it meant becoming something else—if it meant becoming more than human, more than flesh and blood and weakness—

The past shattered.

The present slammed back into him like a fist to the gut.

Neon exhaled, slow and measured, but something in his presence had changed. The very air around him crackled with something raw, something sharp-edged and dangerous, as if the fire that had consumed his home now burned inside him.

Aria felt the shifting intensity. The way the battlefield itself seemed to hesitate, as if the ruins of this dead place recognized the monster that had just awakened in their midst.

Neon lifted his head.

His eyes burned, dark as the night, sharp like the edge of a blade. He glanced at Aria as he gradually lost his sense of self, engulfed by the rage.

That´s right, he thought to himself, looking over to Aria. I’m a monster in disguise. 

Aria’s breath caught in her throat.

Not from the cold this time.

But from him.