Chapter 3 — Ashes of Memory

The night was restless.
Howls echoed through the ruins of Tokyo as Rika sat inside the half-collapsed shelter, her leg wrapped in bandages. Across from her, the Android who had appeared with the masked hunter worked silently, tightening the cloth with clinical precision.

“Your injury will stabilize,” Agnes said in a calm, almost too-calm voice. “But you must avoid heavy strain for seventy-two hours.”

Rika bit her lip. She stared at the Android’s green eyes, then at the dark silhouette of the masked figure who stood at the doorway, silent as a shadow.

“Why… why does he never take off that mask?” she asked softly.

The Android’s hands paused for just a second before resuming their work. “There are things better left unknown.”

The answer cut through Rika’s chest like a blade. She lowered her gaze, sadness filling her violet eyes. Was he hiding scars? A disease? Or something worse? She wanted to ask more, but the silence told her she would get nothing.

Instead, she turned her communicator back on. Static hissed before a faint signal connected to the Tokyo Resistance base. “This is Ayanami Rika. I’m alive. My squad…” She clenched her jaw. “…My squad didn’t make it. But I was saved. By someone.”

Her voice shook, but she didn’t name the Revenant or the Android. Some truths weren’t ready to be spoken.

That night, sleep didn’t come easy. And when it did, it brought memories she wished to forget.

She was a child again. Tokyo was burning.
Her parents shoved her toward the door. “Run, Rika! Don’t look back!”

Then the monster came—its body a whirlwind of limbs and claws, four arms tearing through flesh. The Vortex. She screamed as her parents were ripped apart before her eyes. A strong hand yanked her away—her uncle, dragging her through the chaos toward a car.

But the Vortex wasn’t done. It ripped the vehicle apart, claws piercing steel. Rika thought it was the end.

Then he came.
A man cloaked in shadow, his hood low, his mask red. Moving with brutal precision, he tore through the Soul Beasts without mercy. Gunfire, steel, blood—until nothing remained but silence.

Her uncle whispered in awe, clutching her shoulder. “That’s the Lone Wolf. If you want to live, Rika… then fight. One day, stand beside him.”

The memory dissolved. Rika woke with a gasp, sweat clinging to her skin. The truth chilled her: the one who saved her then… had saved her again.

Morning came. Rika limped to where the Revenant waited, his figure as unyielding as ever.

“Do you… remember the Kyoto Incident? Ten years ago?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The man turned slightly, his voice heavy, distorted by the mask. “I know of it.”

Rika’s heart raced. Did he realize it was her? She searched his posture for an answer but found only silence.

By noon, Agnes escorted her to the Resistance outpost near the harbor. Rika paused before boarding the vehicle. “You could join us, you know. Tokyo Resistance needs fighters like you.”

The Revenant’s reply was curt, final. “Not interested.”

And then he was gone, swallowed by the ruins.

At the base, soldiers rushed to her side. Among them was Nishima Kojiro, a man with black hair, brown eyes behind square glasses. His relief was plain. “Commander Rika! Thank God you’re safe… we thought we lost you.”

Rika nodded, forcing strength back into her voice. “We lost Alpha and Bravo. But Tokyo will be taken back. Next time, we’ll strike carefully. We can’t afford another massacre.”

Plans were drawn. Maps marked. The Resistance prepared once more.

That night, the world heard from Sakura Koyomi again. Her broadcast lit up every remaining screen, her voice burning with determination.

“To everyone still watching: we’ve seen proof that Soul Beasts can be fought. You don’t have to live in fear forever. A lone hunter showed us what’s possible… but this fight isn’t his alone. It belongs to all of us.”

Rika watched the broadcast in silence, her hand resting on her bandaged leg. She didn’t mention the Revenant. She didn’t reveal the way he had fought, or how Agnes had saved her life.

But her silence said enough. For the first time, survivors across the world began to believe.

And belief was the most dangerous weapon of all.