Sacrifice

Jarathia | Jarathia City | Lantern District | At The Same Time

Lanterns burn along a narrow path. A single mansion sits behind a fence, a few small houses clustered in its shadow. Two guards raise red-tipped spears as Chisa approaches.

Their lives flicker out before they’ve finished speaking their warning. Blood trickles along her axe’s blade, where it hangs at her back.

Inside, ten more guards rush her in the foyer—shouts on their lips, fear in their eyes.

Purple lightning crawls over Chisa’s skin.

One dash. One wide swing.

Their bodies fall like cut banners.

She drags the dead from the threshold into the marble lobby, then waits among them, staring at what she’s done.

“I’m making things right.” she whispers. “I promise, Nine, Jerome.”

The inner door opens. An old woman in a black coat freezes at the carnage, then spots Chisa.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting at the volcano?” Monroe asks.

Chisa’s gaze doesn’t falter. “Monroe… you went too far.”

Monroe lifts her chin. “You mean…?”

“Sunthia.” Chisa says. “That’s why today happened. Why the Island has plunged into chaos.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. You knew this day would come. We need a strong leader and stronger tools.”

Chisa presses a palm to her chest. “She’s the most innocent among us. We were forced into the mines, and she took the heaviest share to shield the rest of us from red dust syndrome.”

“So what? She’s still weak.” Monroe scoffs. “And what are you planning now—to kill me?”

Chisa closes the distance and rests the axe on Monroe’s shoulder.

“It’s the only thing I’m good for.”

Sweat starts to bead at Monroe’s brow. “You’ll kill us all for ONE GIRL? As if we’re the only ones to blame! We bribed those weak bandits—and they obeyed! And the Crystal Grave even killed your brother!”

“No.” Chisa says, calm. “He didn’t.”

“What do you—”

Steel slides on. Chisa draws the blade across Monroe’s throat—clean, but slow.

“Sayonara.”

The body crumples behind the closing door. A scatter of diamond earrings clink over the stone.

Chisa’s eyes slide shut. Children’s voices rise from somewhere long ago.

“He’s so cool, and those crystals—” Chisa rambled, always excited back then.
“I know, right? And we can join his crew!” Jerome’s voice, just as enthusiastic.
“You as the mage, I as the physical force—with him, we’ll be the strongest team!” As the young Chisa dreamed of it, her cheeks went a little red.
“Come on, Chisa, just admit that you’ve got feelings for him.” Jerome, teasing but kind.
“N-not true!”

The memory dissolves.

“Now I really wish it wasn’t true.” She murmurs.

Jarathia | Jarathia City | Whiterise District

A throne-like chair commands the torchlit hall. Chisa sits on it, like a Queen. Portraits of young women line the walls. Twenty female guards lie dead at Chisa’s feet.

The door opens. A fat old man staggers in, blanching in horror.

“Why did you kill them?” He squeaks.

Chisa tilts her head. “It’s the only thing I can do well, isn’t it?”

Something breaks in the man’s face. Awe replaces terror. He bows, deep.

Chisa rises and descends the steps. “They wanted me dead to protect you…” A brittle laugh cracks her voice apart. “I told them you’d killed their parents, and they still attacked me. That’s a bit messed up, Jarukio. Even for you.”

“My Queen.” Jarukio breathes, mind unmoored. “What do you desire?”

She lifts his chin with two fingers. “There’s too many slums. Your artificial harem is built from people with no future. You bled them dry, then twisted them to your heart’s desire, all from a young age. And then you point at US as the villains? Intriguing, honestly.”

“You never joined us.” He whispers, almost reverent. “You were always better than the rest, I paid so much to those bandits, but you found and killed them every time…”

“I followed a simple principle.” Chisa answers. “If you’re ready to kill—even with all the good reasons you might have—you must also be ready to DIE…”

She kisses his cheek, slips a knife from her sleeve, and slides it right into his heart.

“Beautiful…” He gasps.

“I lost my innocence long ago.”

Shock curdles his features. He slides to the floor, blood blooming, but he does not seem to register.

“…no… I… got… dirty… no—” he whispers, dying in agony.

Chisa’s expression cracks, the toll too heavy to hide.

I kept sacrificing myself. Killed for every scrap of information. Upheld the status quo with my own dirtied hands. Ignored all my feelings. At first, the disgust was so sharp. Now it’s just… empty. But maybe I’m still as disgusted—and just got used to it.

A tear slips free. A contact lens falls with it. Her left eye gleams red.

“I have to keep going.” She says to the room of dead people. “I have to shed this blood. Nine cannot kill anyone. Those two—those two have to be the heroes. I AM THE VILLAIN! I NEED TO PLAY MY ROLE, JEROME! …right?”