Prologue: The Rebirth of Hell

The morning breeze at the top of the Big River City Hotel was deceptively calm. Mark, a 19-year-old young man, wore an impeccable polo shirt and black pants that revealed his aristocratic lineage. He sat at a French-style table on his monumental balcony, where luxury met tranquility. Behind him, the crystal-clear water of a gigantic pool reflected the sun; in front of him, the river snaked along, dividing paradise from the concrete jungle of the enormous city rising on the horizon.

The phone was pressed against his ear. The voice on the other end belonged to his uncle, but the tone was pure panic.

— That thing that passed by here? What about it? — Mark asked, his voice initially steady.

But the response from the other end drained the calm from his face instantly. His eyes widened in shock.

— What?! Then stop that shit NOW! — The shout echoed across the balcony. — What do you mean there's no way? Where is it going to fall?

The answer he received was the last straw for his patience. In a burst of blind fury, Mark's fingers tightened around the coffee cup he was holding. The extremely expensive material shattered in his palm, scattering porcelain and hot liquid as he growled:

— There are people there, damn it!!! Fine... I'll get both of us out of the city... — He hung up the phone with a sharp motion, eyes fixed on the horizon. — Rayman, my brother... you better not have anything to do with this... or I'll kill you myself!

The Awakening of Chaos

Mark stormed into his brother's room like a hurricane, throwing the door open with a bang. Rayman was still deep in sleep, the image of peace amid the chaos that was approaching.

— Wake up, Rayman!!! — Mark shouted.

Rayman, confused, rubbed his eyes and muttered under his breath:

— What is it...?

The answer came in the form of a violent hand grabbing his shirt collar, lifting him from the bed with savage ferocity.

— Do you have any idea what you've done? I just saw your "little project" pass right in front of my balcony!

— What? What project? What the hell are you talking about? — Rayman stammered, sleep being replaced by terror.

— The bomb, Rayman! The bomb!

Rayman's face turned pale.

— No, Mark... no, no, no... that's not possible... everything was fine and... and... no...

Mark cut him off with a brutal shove, releasing his shirt.

— Shut up, Rayman. Pack your things fast! They'll be after us any minute. We need to leave the country quickly!

— Okay... I will.

The silence in the elevator was heavy. Rayman leaned his head against the cold metal, eyes lost in a sea of regret and guilt. Mark, on the other hand, was breaking into a cold sweat. He gripped the handle of his suitcase with such anger that the structure seemed about to snap.

— God... people are going to die and I can't do anything — Mark muttered to himself.

— Mark, I swear, there was no way this could happen... we were set up.

— Do you swear to me, Rayman? Do you swear this isn't your fault?

— I swear, brother. Forgive me.

— I forgive you — Mark said, his tone icy. — But apologies don't bring people back to life!

The elevator's ding announced the garage floor. Both walked quickly toward Mark's supercar. The luggage was thrown into the trunk and, as he turned the key, the engine roared like a beast: VRUUUUUUUM!

— Before we leave, did you charge your leg prosthetics, Rayman? We're going to need to run a lot. A lot more than you've ever run before, not even before you lost your legs!

— Yes, they're at 100%.

— Good.

The car screeched out of the massive parking lot. As it reached the avenue, Mark glanced in the rearview mirror, giving a final goodbye to his life of luxury.

— Goodbye, paradise... welcome, new hell!

Fifty minutes of asphalt later, the radio cut the music for a breaking news report:

"Breaking news: 5,000 people failed to evacuate the bomb site in time and lost their lives in the terrorist attack that occurred in the suburbs of Big River City. Even with the general alert issued an hour earlier, the colossal reach of the atomic bomb was devastating. Authorities are searching for Rayman Next and Jhon Next, accused of technical irresponsibility..."

— Damn it — Mark growled. — It's barely started and they're already after us. Whoever did this had it all planned from the beginning.

Meanwhile, hidden among the foliage of a tree by the roadside, a tall, slender man watched the road. He wore a black suit, kneeling on a trunk, with an arsenal strapped to his waist and a colossal rifle in his hands.

— Mark... our piece-of-shit ex-soldier. Did you really think you'd escape? — The man brought the radio to his lips. — This is Eagle speaking. Our target is about to flip. Prepare for the ambush!

He pulled the trigger with a disdainful smile.

— What a pity!

BANG!

The bullet traveled meters in a second, hitting the supercar's tire with surgical precision. The car spun on the road, turning sideways. A truck coming right behind had no time to brake. BEEEEEP! The impact was total. The rear of the car was crushed, and the vehicle was flung far away, only stopping against the side guardrail.

On the other side of the road, two men jumped over the barrier. One was Lian: strong, wearing a tank top that showed tense muscles and a tattoo identical to the symbol on his shirt. The other was Arthur: older, wearing full armor with shoulder pads. Both bore the symbol of Hellock — an H with a lock in the center.

The Awakening of the Beast

Mark kicked the car door with such force that the metal was thrown meters away. He crawled out, dragging Rayman out of the wreckage. Mark was drenched in blood, his body riddled with glass shards, but Rayman seemed miraculously intact, just dazed.

Mark stood up, assuming a combat stance as the two men approached.

— Well, if it isn't my former Hellock teammates, in the flesh.

— Maaaark! Long time no see! — Arthur exclaimed. — You've changed a lot since you were 16, my friend.

— You're still old, Arthur! And look at you, Lian... still working out? And that shot? Wow, Lenny is still one of the best. By the way, where's that coward?

— Mark, you know he prefers to stay out of the front lines — Arthur replied calmly.

— I know. And you, Lian? Not going to say anything?

Lian narrowed his eyes, his voice filled with venom:

— I don't waste words on someone I'm going to kill!

— Wow, still a sweetheart — Mark mocked. — I'll say it now, I don't want to fight. This is all a misunderstanding, my brother has nothing to do with this.

— We have no choice, I'm sorry Mark — said Arthur. — But we have to do this. You know what they do to our family if we disobey.

— Arthur, only you seem sorry, haha! But if that's how it has to be... so be it!

Mark, in a sudden and horrifying movement, plunged his hand into his own chest and ripped out his heart.

He pointed it to the sky. From the pulsing organ, organic matter began to expand. The blood running down Mark's arm transformed into metal and living tissue, covering his body like a technological armor while a katana formed in his hand. The floating heart gave rise to ribs, muscles, and metal plates, forming a giant 4 meters tall.

— Rayman, hide! Luxeus, fight by my side!

— Yes, sir! — the creature roared. — I will fight with my life!

Blood and Betrayal

The fight exploded. Lian leaped with incredible speed, delivering a devastating punch to Luxeus's face. At the same time, Arthur drew his chain-bound blades and threw one of them. The tip lodged itself in Mark's chest. With a violent pull, Arthur brought him close, grabbing his head and smashing it against the asphalt.

— Mark, I don't want to fight — Arthur whispered, pinning Mark's hand to the ground. — Please, give up, and they'll let you live.

— I appreciate it, sir... but Rayman is innocent. I would die to protect him!

Arthur hesitated, his gaze softening for a second.

— Mark, I'll probably regret this, but... cut my head off. Remember that time I lost my head?

— And you were unconscious for about 40 minutes until it fully regenerated... you're not thinking about...?

— I believe in you, Mark. As a leader, I must follow my morals. Go ahead with the plan.

— I don't know how to thank you.

— Thank me by surviving. Now go! This has already become too suspicious, hurry!!

Mark grabbed his katana and, with a precise strike, beheaded Arthur. The act looked real to any observer. Mark stood up and saw Lian mounted on Luxeus's back, repeatedly punching the creature's metal helmet until revealing the muscles beneath.

— Sorry, master! — Luxeus shouted, before Lian plunged his hand into his skull and ripped out his brain.

— Damn... these sons of bitches are too strong! — Mark cursed. He shouted to the opponent: — Hey, Lian! Come fight someone your own size!

Lian turned, his eyes bloodshot.

— You're still alive? Impossible! The master let you win, didn't he, you little shit? You know what? I don't give a damn about the mission, I just want to kill you! You always had that special treatment... now it's just you and me!

— Looks like I made you nervous — Mark provoked. — You're going to suffer for this!

Lian charged like a bull. Mark dodged by millimeters. Another charge, another dodge.

— Looks like you missed — Mark mocked.

— I'm going to kill you! You're weak, I know about your training yesterday. You can't regenerate much longer!

Lian threw a punch that Mark blocked with the katana. Then another blow hit Mark square in the face. Mark retaliated with the blade, but Lian grabbed it with his bare hand, preparing a fatal punch. Mark, however, was faster: he spun the katana and severed Lian's arm.

Lian's arm began regenerating instantly.

— My turn!

Lian delivered a furious punch that went through Mark's chest. He lifted the ex-soldier's body into the air.

— It's over! The master showed you mercy, but I won't!

BANG!!!!!!!

Lian's head exploded in a fountain of blood. In the background, Rayman stood, holding Mark's gun with both arms raised from the recoil.

— That's my gun from the car... — Mark coughed blood, incredulous. — Wait... Rayman???

— Mark, they blocked the highway, but we can escape through that forest! — Rayman pointed, his voice firm.

— Rayman, since when did you become so proactive?

— I don't know... LET'S GO, MARK!

Mark looked at the hole in his chest. The wound wasn't closing. He staggered toward his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

— Thanks, bro!

— Cut that "bro" stuff, we're the same age!

— Yeah, but I'm 30 minutes older, BRO! Let's get out of here!

The Final Fall

As they pushed into the forest, Rayman asked:

— Mark, why is no one chasing us? Also, are you okay?

— They expected the two of them to finish the job... and I'll be fine soon! — Mark lied, feeling his strength fade. — Wait... Rayman, run!

— What?

— I was wrong! Eagle came too!

VOSH! A shot grazed past them.

The Shot of Fate

They ran. Mark felt his regeneration failing drastically; the hole in his chest, left by Lian's fist, wasn't closing, only bubbling with dark metallic blood. Every step was agony.

— Thanks, bro — Mark panted, his voice failing.

— Not "bro," we're the same age! — Rayman shot back, trying to keep pace as his prosthetics clanked against the uneven forest ground.

— I'm thirty minutes older, BRO!

Suddenly, a sonic crack whipped through the air.

VOSH — POW!

Rayman's scream cut through the forest noise. Eagle's high-precision projectile didn't hit a tree trunk this time. The bullet tore through the wiring and metal of Rayman's left prosthetic, shattering the mechanical joint and striking what remained of his femur.

Rayman collapsed, rolling over dirt and dry leaves.

— My leg... Mark, the leg stopped! I can't! — Rayman tried to get up, but the prosthetic's hydraulic support sprayed fluid, useless.

Mark skidded to a stop, heart racing. He looked back and saw the glint of Lenny's scope among the distant trees. There was no time for repairs. Without a word, Mark crouched in front of his brother, ignoring the searing pain in his own open chest.

— Get on now! — Mark roared.

— Mark, you're dying, leave me here and...

— SHUT UP AND GET ON!

Rayman wrapped his arms around Mark's neck, who hoisted him up with a roar of pure effort. With his brother on his back, Mark started running again. His lungs burned, and blood from his wound stained Rayman's clothes, but he didn't stop. He felt the weight, the imbalance, but the will to protect his brother was stronger than the physics of his broken body.

They reached the edge of a deep ravine. The roar of the river below was the only escape.

— Rayman... hold tight... — Mark said, stopping at the edge of the abyss.

He took a deep breath, preparing to jump, but Eagle was relentless. Lenny, at the top of the hill, adjusted the wind compensator. He wouldn't miss the second shot.

BANG.

The heavy-caliber shot cut through the air with a perfect trajectory. The bullet pierced Mark's back, went through his lung, and continued forward, embedding itself in Rayman's chest right behind him.

The impact pushed them both into the void. Mark felt the cold air and the warmth of blood pouring from both of them. In the middle of the fall, he used the rest of his strength to turn his body in the air, embracing Rayman so his brother wouldn't hit the water first.

— Got you... — Mark whispered, blood bubbling in his mouth.

The two plunged into the raging waters, disappearing beneath the white foam.

At the top of the ravine, Lenny — the Eagle — lowered his rifle. He watched the spot where the brothers submerged for a few seconds, his face expressionless like a stone mask.

— Idiots.