Ch. 5: Part 2 — Shadows Over Flame

The Council Chamber boiled with rage.

Arata stood in the center, crimson coat scorched, his katana propped casually against his shoulder. Soldiers lined the walls with blades drawn, their eyes filled with equal parts fear and hatred.

Councilors screamed over one another.

“He butchered our people. ”

“He saved this city a hundred times. ”

“Execution—before he burns us all. ”

“Lies. You know demons wear his face. ”

The chamber shook with fury.

Aris slammed her saber on the table, sparks flashing. “Enough. ” Her voice cut the storm for a moment. Her eyes locked on the council. “I’ve been with him every battle. If he says he didn’t do this, I believe him. ”

But the roar returned, sharper than ever.

“Belief won’t bring back the dead. ”

“Belief won’t stop him when he turns. ”

Arata’s let the corner of his mouth quirk curled sharp, bitter. “—Funny thing about mobs. Doesn’t matter if you’re guilty—only if you look it. ”

The council erupted again, but before the storm could break further, the doors burst open.

A messenger stumbled in, face pale, voice shaking. “Commander—attack in the southern district. Survivors say—it was him. ”

Gasps tore through the chamber. Eyes snapped to Arata.

But he hadn’t moved. He was here, under guard, under watch.

Arata tilted his head, thin smile widening faintly. “—Two of me now, huh? Cute trick. ”

The councilors shouted louder. Some demanded his execution on the spot, convinced the demon “double” was a convenient lie. Others hesitated, seeing proof of infiltration at last.

Aris’s jaw tightened. Her saber pointed to the doors. “Then we end this debate the only way that matters. We hunt the impostor. And when we find it—every doubt dies with it. ”

Her voice rang with steel, but her eyes flicked to Arata for a heartbeat. And in that instant, she wondered—

If they can’t tell the difference between him and the demon—will it matter if we kill the right one?

The southern district reeked of smoke and blood.

Arata and Aris moved through the alleys, blades drawn, their steps sharp against broken cobblestones. Civilians huddled in corners, eyes wide with terror. Some reached out, begging Aris for protection. Others shrank back at the sight of Arata, whispering curses under their breath.

The words followed him like shadows.

Arata let out a small, lopsided smile—faint, tired. “Guess I’m popular tonight. ”

Aris ignored it, saber steady, eyes scanning rooftops. “Stay sharp. It wants you to react. ”

“Relax, ” Arata muttered. His Draconic Eyes flared crimson-white behind his shades, cutting through the smoke. “I’ll know the real thing when I see it. ”

A scream split the night.

They sprinted into the square—only to freeze.

There he was.

Arata. Crimson coat, silver hair, katana blazing. Blood dripping from his blade. A family lay cut down at his feet, their bodies still warm.

The impostor lifted his head, gave a faint smirk curling sharp. “—Too slow, partner. ”

Civilians shrieked, pointing, screaming his name. Soldiers rushed in, blades raised.

Aris stepped forward, saber flashing. “That’s not him. Hold your ground. ”

But the whispers had already begun.

They’re the same.

No one can tell.

He’ll burn us all.

Arata’s grip tightened on his real katana, his wry smile was sharp but bitter. “—Cute. Imitation’s supposed to be flattering, right? ”

The shapeshifter laughed with his voice. “Flame, savior, monster—it doesn’t matter. They already believe me more than you. ”

It dissolved into smoke, reappearing behind the soldiers, cutting another down before vanishing again. Each time it struck, it wore Arata’s face.

The square spiraled into chaos.

Aris shouted commands, her voice like steel. “Hold formation. Eyes sharp—look at his stance, not his face. ”

But fear spread faster than discipline.

And above, the infiltrator’s laughter echoed through the smoke.

* * *

The smoke thickened until even the torches looked like dying stars.

Shadows darted through the haze—fast, fluid, mocking. Every time Arata’s Draconic Eyes caught a flicker, the impostor shifted again. His face. His grin. His blade.

Then—Aris’s.

A perfect copy stepped from the smoke, saber dripping with fresh blood, eyes cold as steel. Soldiers gasped, faltering.

“Commander? ” one whispered, lowering his weapon.

The real Aris cursed under her breath. “Hold position. That’s not me. ”

But the impostor’s voice was hers, sharp and commanding. “Stand aside. He’s lost control. I’ll end this. ”

The soldiers wavered. Some obeyed her command, others raised weapons at the real Aris, confusion breaking their ranks.

Arata’s let the corner of his mouth quirk twisted, bitter. “—Cute trick. Guess I’m not your only costume. ”

The impostor-Aris pivoted to him, saber raised. “Monster. Your fire ends here. ”

Arata slid his katana free, flames roaring along the blade. “You’re gonna regret stealing her face. ”

The square erupted.

Two Arises clashed, sabers flashing. The real one fought with precision, every strike calculated, every step rooted in discipline. The impostor’s movements were flawless mimicry—until its eyes flickered crimson, giving itself away for a heartbeat.

Arata didn’t waste it.

He surged in, katana blazing, carving through the fake with a molten arc. Smoke exploded, laughter echoing as the shapeshifter dissolved into the haze again.

But the damage was done.

Soldiers stared wide-eyed, whispers crawling.

“—We can’t even tell them apart. ”

“—How do we know which one’s real? ”

“—If the flame can be copied, maybe he’s been a copy all along. ”

The seed of doubt dug deeper.

Arata sheathed his blade with a sharp click, thin smile faint but raw. “—Figures. Even when I kill the fake, they still don’t trust the real. ”

The hunt began.

Arata and Aris moved through the labyrinth of burning alleys, their blades drawn, their footsteps echoing against cracked stone. Civilians hid in doorways, peering out with terrified eyes. Every whisper followed him like chains.

“—Which one is he now? ”

Arata’s let out a small, lopsided smile curled sharp, though his jaw was tight. “Gotta admit—demon picked the right stage. Whole damn city as the audience. ”

Aris’s eyes narrowed, saber ready. “Then don’t give it the ending it wants. ”

The shapeshifter struck again.

From the shadows stumbled a young boy, tears streaming down his soot-stained face. He reached out, crying, “Help me. ”

Aris faltered a step—then saw it. The flicker in his eyes. Crimson.

“Arata—. ”

Too late. The boy’s body twisted, claws bursting from tiny hands, fangs splitting his jaw. It lunged for her throat.

Steel flashed.

Arata’s katana split the child-form in half, fire consuming it in an instant.

Smoke exploded. The shapeshifter’s laughter slithered through the night.

“Look how your savior protects you. Burning children in the streets. ”

From the windows and alleys, horrified gasps rang out. Mothers clutched their children. Soldiers stepped back in shock.

“He—he killed a boy. ”

“No—it was a demon,”

“—Or was it? ”

The whispers sharpened, feeding on the smoke.

Arata stood in the street, his blade dripping molten light, His wry smile was gone. His Draconic Eyes glowed behind the shades, hard as fire. “—You bastards never fight fair, do you? ”

Aris’s saber snapped to guard, her voice like steel. “Ignore them. Stay focused. Every lie it tells dies when we cut it down. ”

The smoke shifted again. Dozens of faces flickered in the haze—neighbors, soldiers, children, even Aris once more. All smiling with Arata’s grin.

The city watched from the shadows. Their fear grew sharper.

And the line between monster and protector blurred further with every strike.