Ch. 5: Part 3 — Shadows Over Flame

The square drowned in smoke and fear.

Figures emerged and vanished in the haze, each one identical—silver hair glinting in the firelight, crimson coats flaring, katanas blazing faintly. Every copy wore a dry tilt of the mouth. Every step echoed his stride.

To the crowd, it was unbearable. Soldiers faltered, civilians pressed back against ruined walls.

“They’re all him—”

“—Which one’s real? ”

“—Maybe none of them. ”

The whispers cut sharper than any blade.

Arata stood in the middle, coat scorched, chest heaving. His Draconic Eyes flared crimson-white behind his shades, piercing illusions with ruthless clarity. His lips curved into a grin, sharp and bitter.

“—You think you can beat me with cheap reflections? Sorry. I don’t shatter that easy. ”

The impostors lunged, a storm of crimson coats and blazing steel. Arata roared, fire exploding outward. His katana tore through copies in arcs of molten light, burning smoke to ash. Yet every illusion fell laughing with his own voice, the haze growing thicker.

Then he saw it.

One figure didn’t flicker. One moved with weight. Solid. Real.

His grin sharpened. “—Found you. ”

He surged forward, blade blazing.

The impostor turned—and it was him. Perfect. Same coat, same grin, same burning katana.

The shapeshifter sneered with his voice. “Go on, flame. Kill yourself. ”

The crowd gasped, terror locking them in place.

Aris’s saber flashed, her voice steel. “Arata. That one—strike now. ”

But her command was swallowed by panic. To the people, all they saw was Renji Arata raising his sword to cut down his own reflection.

Arata didn’t hesitate.

His katana split the impostor’s chest. Fire roared, shrieks echoing as the false Arata’s face melted away. Its body twisted, claws and black fire bursting free before collapsing into ash.

Silence crushed the square.

Arata stood over the ashes, katana glowing faintly in his grip, breath ragged.

The lie was dead.

But to them—it looked like he had murdered himself.

The whispers returned, sharper than before.

“No man survives killing himself—”

Arata sheathed his blade with a sharp click, his grin faint, bitter. “—Doesn’t matter what you think you saw. The demon’s gone. ”

He turned away, coat trailing in the smoke.

No cheers followed.

Only fear.

****

The city didn’t breathe that night.

Word spread faster than fire. From the western walls to the eastern markets, every whisper carried the same story:

The flame killed himself.

The flame cannot die.

The flame is no man at all.

By dawn, fear outweighed relief. Soldiers sharpened blades not for demons, but for what walked among them. Civilians barred doors, clutching children close, eyes darting whenever silver hair glimmered in memory.

Arata returned to the barracks alone, crimson coat scorched, katana cracked at his side. He passed through streets heavy with silence. Civilians watched from windows, some trembling, some cursing, none reaching out.

“—Curse. ”

The words followed him like ghosts.

He stopped once, lighting a cigarette with a spark from his fingertip. The flame flickered unsteady in the wind, mirroring the heaviness in his chest. His let the corner of his mouth quirk curved faint, bitter.

“—Funny thing about saving people. ” he muttered. “The more you do it, the more they hate you for it. ”

He exhaled smoke and kept walking.

Inside the Council Chamber, voices raged once more.

“He’s too dangerous—”

“He’s the only weapon we have—”

“He’ll burn us—”

“He already saved us—”

No verdict came. Only deeper fractures.

Aris sat apart from the chaos, her saber resting across her knees. Her eyes were hard, her silence louder than their shouting.

They’ll never see him as human again, she thought. But without him, we’re already dead.

Far beyond the walls, the Crowned Demon stood before the black fire, golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Perfect, ” he whispered. “The flame burns, but it warms no one. Soon, they will turn on him themselves. ”

The shadows writhed, hissing laughter echoing across the ruins.

“And when they do—we won’t even have to lift a claw. ”

The fire roared higher, promising the fall to come.