In Cold Blood

A tall woman strolled through a dark alley, the echo of her heels punctuating the silence. Ahead, a man stood frozen—entranced by her beauty.

His breath caught as she stepped closer, her eyes sultry, lips curled in a teasing smile.

CRACK.

A flurry of glowing rose petals erupted from her fingertips. In a blur, they sliced clean through the man’s body.

His silhouette staggered—then crumbled, lifeless. Blood trickled across the alley stones.

The woman’s voice drifted softly through the alley, almost bored, almost playful. “Another sacrifice for my petals… though lately, they fall far too easily. I need a real man—someone who bleeds beauty and power.”

She sauntered deeper into the narrow street, her heels clicking against the stone. All around her, pale petals floated through the air like snow, weaving lazily between the rotting bodies that lined the walls — remnants of her past flirtations, their faces slack and empty.

Then, suddenly, another voice cut through the silence. It echoed cool and unshaken, a blade hidden in velvet.

“You must be Selica. About time you stopped hiding.”

From the shadows, a man stepped into the dim light. His black hair shifted in the evening breeze. A white scarf curled loosely around his neck. He wore an oversized white coat over baggy white trousers, the fabric brushing lightly against his ankles. And his eyes—glowing violet, sharp enough to pierce steel—fixed on her without hesitation.

Selica smiled, slow and seductive, her crimson lips curving as though savoring the moment. “Oh my… And who might you be?”

“Tona,” he replied, calm as still water.

She rolled his name across her tongue like wine. “Tona… mmm, what a delicious name. I must admit—I’m impressed. I thought I left no trail. You even know my name.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice a purr. “However did you find me?”

Tona’s gaze didn’t waver. “The disappearing solena traces in this district didn’t exactly whisper subtlety,” he said evenly. “You’ve got a thing for flashy exits. The citizens around here also mentioned you quite often actually.”

Selica giggled, the sound soft and dripping with false sweetness. “Smart and ruthlessly handsome,” she purred. “Those eyes… they cut right through me.” Her tongue flicked across her lips as she leaned closer. “What do you say, Tona? Join me. I promise a… more pleasurable cause.”

Tona tilted his head slightly, a gentle grin touching his face. “Thanks. But you’re no Yuki.”

The words struck like a blade. Selica froze, her playful mask cracking for the first time.

“…You dare reject me?” she hissed.

“I told you,” Tona said evenly. “My heart was taken a long time ago.”

Her smile collapsed entirely, replaced with something darker. “You’ll regret this.” Her voice dropped an octave, flirtation burned away, leaving only venom.

“I’ll carve that pretty face off your skull,” she spat. Her arms spread wide as the petals circling her began to glow a furious crimson. “Bloomdrain!”

A storm of burning petals erupted outward, streaking through the air in a deadly whirlwind.

Tona barely moved. His hands remained tucked in his coat pockets as his body weaved effortlessly between each strike. His movements were smooth, flowing — like wind through branches, unbothered and untouchable.

“This really fooled that many people?” he murmured to himself, almost amused.

Selica shrieked and lunged forward with a flurry of kicks, but before her strike could land, Tona shifted. In a blink — faster than her eyes could follow — he was behind her, close enough that the cold whisper of his presence brushed the back of her neck.

“What—?!” Selica gasped, twisting in shock.

“Damn, you’re slow,” said Tona.

He drove his foot into her side, launching her into the alley wall. The stone bends inward from the force of her impact. Cracks ripple down the brick like a spiderweb. She barely rose from where she hit the stone.

“You bastard,” she screamed. Her hands rose above her head, commanding every last petal. They circled her like a cyclone, and with a thrust of the hand, sped towards what looked like a defenseless Tona.

This time, he didn’t even move. The petals tore through his body like daggers—except they didn’t. His form flickered, scattered and vanished. Selica watched with victory in her pupils. However, it was short lived.

What she thought was his body was a clone that disappeared seconds after impact. Her mouth dropped in shock, as Tona appeared beside her.

“Funny. You thought you did something.”

He raised a hand to her neck, and with a quick chop, her body hit the ground.

Petals fell lifelessly to the ground, colorless and spent. Selica groaned, broken and bleeding.

Tona stood over her, not even sparing a glance as he turns around.

His face remained neutral, but inside, there was almost a trace of pity. Almost.
“…You were never even close. Central's getting sloppy. Now... what was next?”

Tona vanished into the quiet alleyway from which he came.

Meanwhile, across Alden, the creaking of the carriage slowed as it lurched to a stop. Judgment and Viper squadrons leaned toward the narrow windows, their first view of Jon District rising before them. Towering black cliffs cut across the horizon, their jagged faces veined with iron scaffolding that stretched like skeletal remains over the hillsides. In the distance, smoke stacks belched thick plumes of soot into an already smog-choked sky. Red clay dominated the landscape, it's fierce color making the cast thirsty just by gazing.

“…Doesn’t exactly scream ‘warm welcome,’ does it?” Geo muttered, his brow furrowing as he peered out.

Tsuki’s eyes narrowed. “It’s quiet,” she said softly. “Too quiet.”

The group disembarked, boots crunching against the cracked earth. Old mining rail lines spidered across the ground, rusted and broken, leading toward a deserted outpost of dark stone and salvaged metal. Watchtowers loomed along the cliff’s edge, their silhouettes stark against the gray haze.

Naru rolled his shoulders, the pop of his neck echoing faintly. “This the place?” he asked. “Thought there’d be more people…”

The silence was broken by the shuffling of feet. From a narrow path cut into the stone, a small group of villagers emerged. Their clothes were patched and worn, their faces streaked with soot. Some still wore battered mining helmets, dented from years of use. Caution marked their every step as they approached.

One man moved to the front. Older, with silver streaks through his dark hair, his arms still carried the bulk and strength of decades at the mines. His eyes studied them carefully.

“…You from Memento?” he asked at last.

Tsuki stepped forward and nodded. “That’s right. We’re here to speak with your people. We’ve heard what’s been happening.”

The elder’s gaze swept over them. It lingered on their weapons, then shifted to Ringo, who stood half-hidden at Azumi’s side, clutching his satchel as if it were a shield.

After a long moment, the miner gave a single nod. His voice was low but steady. “Then let me show you something. Quickly. We were told you’d be coming from a couple scouts,” he said. “The Jon District’s more complicated than it looks from the outside. You’ll see.”

The squads followed the elder into a narrow cave path lit by flickering oil lanterns. The walls pressed close, damp with years of mining sweat and smoke. As they walked deeper, the silence gave way to the sounds of life hidden underground: families huddled in corners around dim fires, workers dragging carts of ore that screeched against the stone, children playing with toys long coated in dust. Tsuki noticed the thinness of the air, and the lingering taste of soot with every breath.

Whispers followed the group as they passed, wary eyes glancing from shadowed alcoves.

“They look exhausted,” Azumi murmured to Tsuki, her voice low, almost reverent. “Like they’ve been waiting for this moment forever.”

Makoro’s deep voice rumbled behind them. “Yes. These people… no living. They surviving.”

The path widened until they stepped into a hollow square carved directly into the mountain. A small well sat at its center, surrounded by weary villagers. The crowd’s expressions flickered between hope and suspicion, their faces half-lit by the glow of lanternlight.

From outside one of the windowless stone structures, voices carried through the thin walls. The harsh bark of APC soldiers echoed in unison:

“All productivity quotas must be met. Any inciters of rebellion will be executed. Long live Alden Central.”

Enzumaki gave a grim snort. “…Yeah. Definitely not a warm welcome.”

Tsuki clenched her fists, the sound of the proclamation gnawing at her. The weight of the mission pressed heavier on her shoulders. This wasn’t going to be like Zimala. This wasn’t just a fight for freedom—it was a battle to earn trust.

“Let’s find their leaders,” Geo said, turning to the group. His voice was sharp with conviction. “The fires of rebellion are already lit down here. We just need to know who’s tending them.”

Tsuki looked at the families huddling together. Their position tugged at her heart, and she couldn't help the feeling of uselessness. One child lay with a dirty cloth over his forehead, his mother was teary eyed ringing out another cloth beside him.

These people have nothing, and yet... the APC still takes, Tsuki thought to herself.

Hatori turned to the others, attempting to hide his pitied look with his normal calm. "We saw what we needed to. All the more reason to complete mission quick. Let's head back."

Both squads nodded in unison. Their footsteps echoed through the endless caverns as they headed back out into the relentless sun. Tsuki turned and gave the people of Jon one more glance, before leaving. Together, the traveled through the carved clay paths of Jon, aiming for the center of the city. A large well stood at the center of the district, likely the only water source in a walkable radius.

Neko's face was still solemn from visiting the people of Jon. "What's the plan?"

Naru rubbed his chin a bit, finally reaching the structure. He sat on the stone support, next to the lever and bucket. "I think we split up. The reports of the people were clearly true. So, I think our next step is finding the leader."

Hatori nodded in agreement. Tsuki scanned the other squad members reactions, before fixating on Geo. His eyes were on the ground, but that's not what caught her attention. His fist was clenched in a way that made his skin almost purple. His teeth were gritted, but before Tsuki could say anything, Enzumaki spoke.

"I agree with Naru. We'll have a better chance at finding Jon's leadership and representative to the council if we split up."

Since Enzumaki agreed, Makoro made his support known loudly with a loud "Yes!"

"Alright, then it's settled? Meet back here when we learn something?" Azumi asked, her hands on her hips.

"Yes. Meet back here tomorrow morning. Take the eastern portion of Jon, and we'll take the west."

Naru nodded, turning toward the east. Enzumaki and Makoro followed immediately. Knoxx turned and gave a big grin with an overdramatic wave. "Be safe Judgment! If you need an ass saving, just yell really loud! Hopefully we can find you."

Knoxx just shook his head in response. A telling grin formed on his face. "I could say the same for you!"

Neko dismissively waved the comment off, before turning after his squad mates. With that, Judgment headed west in search of Jon's representative, aiming to bring Memento support to the people in need.

Elsewhere, deep within the stone walled palace of Alden Central, the research hall was quiet as three men hung around a wooden tabletop. A single guard stood near the entrance to the isolated room. Wall-hung lanterns lit the surroundings and gave the researchers enough light to observe their experiment.

One held a small metal tool with a speck of dried blood. He carefully scraped it into a Solena basin below. The blood hit the water and slowly dissolved. The researchers watched, looking, but unexpecting.

“If it’s positive, it should glow right? The negatives normally only shimmer slightly,” one asked.

Another, the middle man, wore a prestigious lab coat. His rank was clearly higher than the others. He responded after a moment of thought.

“Yes. It should. If the Solena output is high enough, it should become almost luminescent.”

Their focus remained on the basin, but it remained unchanged.

“Damn it. Another bust,” the third said. He turned his head away.

Just as he did, the higher-ranking man tapped his arm. The third man turned back to the basin, and his eyes grew wide. The water had turned into a glowing violet color.

The three men admired the results. The first man turned to the guard after seeing it for himself.

“Guard! Bolt to Lord Hoshuro. Tell him...” He paused for just a moment. A smile crossed his lips. “Tell him the results were positive. The Ghost is the Final Sephoran.”

The guard turned instantly. He began running down the endless corridors of the palace. The stone quickly turned into a well-polished marble. Every step echoed through the chamber, until the guard encountered two large iron doors. The same that Tsuki once stood before. He slowly opened the right door and his body slipped through the gap. He rushed forward; Lord Hoshuro sat in his place among the other councilmen.

The chamber felt colder. Even the lantern flames seemed to shrink.

“What is the meaning of this?” called Hoshuro.

The guard quickly drooped to a knee in the heart of the chamber. His voice was quiet, but certain.

“Lord. I bring news from the research hall.”

Hoshuro tapped his fingers on the mantle before him. His head laid within his other hand, clearly awaiting the news.

“Well? Go on.”

The guard’s voice rose. “They found him.”

Hoshuro’s eyes became doubtful. “You don’t mean...”

“I do sir. The Final Sephoran. The Solena basin confirmed that it’s the Ghost.”

Hoshuro’s eyes grew wide. A small silence followed, but a twisted grin formed as he next spoke. The other councilmen didn’t dare speak; not while Hoshuro did.

“Yes. YES!” he shouted. “Perfect. Go inform our infiltrator. Our next steps must be well thought out. We know it’s the Ghost...”

Another thoughtful moment passed as Hoshuro gathered words.

“Now we lure him out.”

The guard nodded, and turned to leave. Hoshuro’s voice interrupted him one more time.

“Oh, and guard? Get me Chaze would you?”

“Yes my lord,” he replied, before churning his legs towards the doors.

As the guard’s footsteps faded down the palace corridor, Hoshuro leaned back in his marble throne, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The councilmen murmured, fear and anticipation twisting their voices into a low storm.

Only one thought cut clear through the noise.

“The Final Sephoran... alive.”

His grin sharpened. A man who knew he was closer to victory than ten minutes ago.

“He’ll come. They always do.”

The lantern flames swayed, casting long shadows across the council’s faces—shadows that stretched and twisted like hungry hands reaching for a ghost.

Back in the barren wastelands of Jon, the sun hung low over the district, casting long shadows across the stone-lined paths. Dust clung to their boots as they wound through narrow alleys and crumbling streets. The town was unusually silent for the hour—an unnatural hush that only deepened the tension.

“Nothing,” Geo muttered at last, shaking his head. “We’ve asked nearly every vendor and barkeep in this place. No sign of the district representative.”

“Same here,” Azumi said, arms crossed tightly. “Either these people are terrified… or someone told them to keep quiet.”

Hatori stood a few paces ahead, still as a statue, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“We need to figure something out quick,” he said.

They stood next to an old stone building. It laid in the center of a decaying courtyard. The ground was cracked, grass forcing its way through, as if even the ground here resisted being crushed. Murmurs passed among them, frustration rising in their voices.

Just as Tsuki began to speak, a sound pierced the air.

A child’s scream.

“Help! Somebody help me!”

All heads snapped toward the voice. Without hesitation, Tsuki bolted toward the source, her hand instinctively readying her shadow technique. The others followed in stride.

Tsuki maneuvered through the rundown town, dodging broken carts, loose crates and scattered tools in her path. Eventually the squad reached a dilapidated storage barn, tucked away from the main road. An APC soldier loomed over a small boy, gripping him by the hair with one hand and cocking his other arm back.

“Tell me where he is!” the soldier growled. “I know you’re lying.”

“I—I really don’t know!” the boy cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I swear!”

The guard didn’t care. He drove his fist into the boy’s gut, sending him to the ground with a pained wheeze. “Your pa owes the APC minerals. Best quit your lying or I may have to force him out.”

“Hey!” Tsuki’s voice rang like a gunshot. “Get away from him!”

The guard turned just in time to see a blur—Tsuki’s knee crashing into his chest, knocking the wind from him. He stumbled back, gasping, but before he recovered, Tsuki struck again with a swift elbow to the temple. The man crumpled to the dirt, groaning but alive.

The boy still laid on his back, holding his abdomen, trying to regather his breath. Tsuki knelt beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

The boy nodded, wincing. “Y-Yeah. Thank you…”

Geo cuffed the downed soldier, while Azumi kept her blade near his throat.

“What the hell were you doing to him?” Hatori asked coldly. “I should end you here... Beating up on a child like that.”

The guard hissed in pain. “Orders. I was told to find the leader’s whereabouts. The higher-ups think he’s planning something…”

Geo scoffed. “Of course he is.”

Tsuki turned back to the boy, who was wiping tears from his dusty face. He had a tiny scar on his forehead. His short hair allowed his soulful blue eyes to glow. She couldn’t help but notice he resembled the boy from back then. Nokosaki. The ticket to her life as it was. “What’s your name?”

“Reji,” he said, voice trembling. “My dad is the one you’re looking for. He’s the district head… or he was.”

Azumi blinked. “Wait—your dad is the one reporting to the council?”

Reji nodded. “He doesn’t anymore, though. Not really. He’s been hiding. Ever since he started the revolt…”

“You mean he started it?” Hatori raised an eyebrow.

“I think so,” Reji said. “He never told me details, but… I heard him talking about you. Memento. He said if you ever came, you might be the key to uniting the whole district.”

Tsuki’s brow furrowed. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” Reji admitted, his shoulders sagging. “I really wasn’t lying. He keeps moving… for safety, I guess. He said too many people were watching. Even some of the villagers here—some still believe the APC is protecting us.”

“They’re afraid,” Azumi said quietly.

“Yeah,” Reji nodded. “Most are too scared to act. And the ones who aren’t scared… they’re too angry. It’s like the district is split in three. But my dad believes the people just need something to believe in. He said that when Memento arrives, hope will too.”

Tsuki exchanged a glance with Geo, then looked back at Reji with softened eyes.

“Then let’s make him right.”

Reji walked alongside the squad, a bit too fast for his legs to comfortably keep up. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets, head low, but the occasional glance upward revealed awe in his eyes—he was traveling with Memento.

“So,” Ringo said, sidling up beside the boy with a lazy grin, “you ever meet any rebels before us?”

Reji chuckled shyly. “Only stories. My dad used to say you were ghosts. Like shadows in the wind.”

“Well,” Knoxx muttered, tossing a small rock in the air, “he wasn’t wrong about the ‘ghost’ part.”

Tsuki looked back over her shoulder, her split black-and-white mask catching a flicker of sunlight. “You holding up okay, Reji?”

He nodded, gaze flicking between her and the others. “I just didn’t think I’d ever be walking through town with people like you. I mean... you're the real deal.”

“Try not to be too disappointed,” Geo said dryly.

Reji laughed for the first time. “No, I’m not. Just feels weird, like I’m in a dream or something.”

They rounded a bend, moving into a more quiet stretch of Jon’s older district. The buildings here were cracked and crooked, with wooden supports propped against stone walls like makeshift crutches.

“There,” Reji pointed abruptly. “That one with the red shutters—that’s my house.”

They climbed the narrow steps and pushed the creaky door open. The inside smelled faintly of old ash and earth, a home left behind in haste. Tsuki had seen homes like this long before. The inevitable grip of the APC left families in ruin, and homes lifeless. Dust floated through beams of filtered sunlight. A kettle lay sideways on the counter.

“Empty,” Hatori muttered.

Tsuki began scanning the room, noting signs of a quick exit. Dishes were still on the table, a few boots missing from the rack.

Knoxx leaned down to Reji’s level. “Hey kid… where’s your mom?”

Reji’s shoulders tensed. He stared at the floor.

“She was taken,” he said softly. “By the APC. She’s an ability user. They chained her up like a criminal and dragged her out of here. My dad and I… we just had to stand there and watch.”

No one spoke; the silence said enough. Tsuki’s chest tightened. She knew that feeling of hopelessness all too well.

Reji continued, voice growing shakier. “After that, my dad lost it. Started screaming at every guard he saw. Told them he’d burn down the council’s damn palace if they didn’t let her go.”

Ringo’s eyes widened. “Your dad said that out loud? Damn…”

“He did,” Reji said. “And Gogi—the council member over Jon—he threatened to take everything from us. Said he’d revoke our status, cut our food rations, blacklist us from work. My dad stopped yelling. But he didn’t stop fighting.”

Reji looked up, this time with a flicker of pride.

“He just got smarter. He started planning behind the scenes. Using his position to manipulate shipments, trade reports, even fuel shortages. Father always said the mines were half the heart within Alden Central. Zimala and Riche, too. He found ways to reroute deliveries, delay shipments, undercut APC profits. Quiet rebellion.”

Azumi crossed her arms. “That’s clever. A slow bleed.”

“He always said, ‘The APC bleeds green. Cut the money, and you’ll find the heart.’”

They filed out of the home, thoughtful, and continued down the uneven road that snaked deeper into Jon. As the squad walked, Ringo talked Reji’s ear off about what life in Memento was really like—less glory, more sleepless nights and sore feet. Reji laughed, and even Hatori gave a small grin.