He doesn’t know where it all even began. He was rushing to the front, sprinting like his life depended on it while the shadows manifested- the alarms in his mind blaring louder with every second. Then, he found himself standing at a railing, staring down at the source of the distortion—a massive black cube, pulsating with eerie green patterns that slithered across its surface like living veins. It felt alive. Malicious.
Kira directed his attacks on the cube. Whatever it was. He used two teleports to trick the fafnir to load its Gigantomachia on the…room? It had hissed in anger and before he knew it-
There was a tentacle rushing at him.
And the world turned sterile.
When he woke up he thought he found himself back in the strange dream he found himself a couple times before. A world full of void. Of endless corridors. He had seen it before in fragments of dreams he dared not revisit. The walls were lined with pictures framed in bleeding gold. An old couple, now drenched in blood. A woman in hospital clothes. Two interlocked hands, one marked by a birthmark. A drowning ship. A freshly dug grave.
He followed the sounds echoing through the corridors. Screams, roars, cries of agony—he didn’t know who or what was making them, but they dragged him forward like a hook in his chest. He couldn’t stop. Not now.
The labyrinth’s oppressive walls scream in distorted echoes as Akira sprints through the maze, his whip flashing out to hook onto edges and launch him forward with practiced grace. CLAP. CLAP. He had six more teleportations until his ears would start to bleed. Sixteen more until his eyes would start growing blurry. He didn’t have much time. Every sound pulls him deeper, every tremor in the air promising something worse ahead. The maze twists and shifts around him like it’s alive, but he doesn’t stop, not even when his muscles ache.
When the terrible roar of fire and the chilling cry of "Eigaon!" rip through the air, his heart seizes. The voice—familiar yet wrong—claws at his ears. He rounds a corner just in time to see the monstrous shadow of some creature painted in shades of black and white hovering behind what looks like Goro, the face too perfect, too cruel. His head turns in that split second, finding Corvus bound in writhing tentacles, struggling wildly, a sword clenched in his restrained hand. Kira doesn’t hesitate.
BANG BANG BANG!
The submachine gun in his hand flourishes in an instant, now held in one as he shoots- the bullets rushing at the main target.
The one who wore his face. Goro. Except not. His mind screamed at the sight.
The submachine gun in his hand blazed to life as he fired at the monster wearing Goro’s face. The bullets streaked through the air, landing clean hits. For a moment, the cognitive Akechi flinched, Loki’s fire momentarily dissipating as the Eigaon collided to an area really close to Kou instead- cursed energy hurling at his direction as it exploded. One bullet pierced its hand—the one not holding the tape.
“You—!” The voice hissed in outrage.
The tentacles writhed violently, blocking or taking in the damage of the rest of the shots with ease. The rest of the bullets ricocheted uselessly off their dense surface. Akira’s frustration boiled as he flipped backward to dodge an incoming strike, throwing the strap of the gun over his shoulder.
“Seriously?!” he shouted, glancing briefly at Kou. “How many of you things resist bullets? This isn’t fair!”
The cognitive Akechi tilted its head, almost amused. Its crimson gaze followed Akira as he sprinted toward Kou, still bound and struggling. In one hand, the monster clutched the tape, its black blood dripping from the bullet wound. Akira pulled something from his pocket—a grenade.
He didn’t have time for this nonsense.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he prepared to pull the pin and hurl it at the tentacle holding Kou when something wet snapped around his ankle.
“No- no- no-” He cries out as he finds the tentacle yanking him into the air. He hurtled through the air, clutching the explosive as his world spun violently. “FUCK!”
1/2
He doesn’t know where it all even began. He was rushing to the front, sprinting like his life depended on it while the shadows manifested- the alarms in his mind blaring louder with every second. Then, he found himself standing at a railing, staring down at the source of the distortion—a massive black cube, pulsating with eerie green patterns that slithered across its surface like living veins. It felt alive. Malicious.
Kira directed his attacks on the cube. Whatever it was. He used two teleports to trick the fafnir to load its Gigantomachia on the…room? It had hissed in anger and before he knew it-
There was a tentacle rushing at him.
And the world turned sterile.
When he woke up he thought he found himself back in the strange dream he found himself a couple times before. A world full of void. Of endless corridors. He had seen it before in fragments of dreams he dared not revisit. The walls were lined with pictures framed in bleeding gold. An old couple, now drenched in blood. A woman in hospital clothes. Two interlocked hands, one marked by a birthmark. A drowning ship. A freshly dug grave.
He followed the sounds echoing through the corridors. Screams, roars, cries of agony—he didn’t know who or what was making them, but they dragged him forward like a hook in his chest. He couldn’t stop. Not now.
The labyrinth’s oppressive walls scream in distorted echoes as Akira sprints through the maze, his whip flashing out to hook onto edges and launch him forward with practiced grace. CLAP. CLAP. He had six more teleportations until his ears would start to bleed. Sixteen more until his eyes would start growing blurry. He didn’t have much time. Every sound pulls him deeper, every tremor in the air promising something worse ahead. The maze twists and shifts around him like it’s alive, but he doesn’t stop, not even when his muscles ache.
When the terrible roar of fire and the chilling cry of "Eigaon!" rip through the air, his heart seizes. The voice—familiar yet wrong—claws at his ears. He rounds a corner just in time to see the monstrous shadow of some creature painted in shades of black and white hovering behind what looks like Goro, the face too perfect, too cruel. His head turns in that split second, finding Corvus bound in writhing tentacles, struggling wildly, a sword clenched in his restrained hand.
Kira doesn’t hesitate.
BANG BANG BANG!
The submachine gun in his hand flourishes in an instant, now held in one as he shoots- the bullets rushing at the main target.
The one who wore his face. Goro. Except not. His mind screamed at the sight.
The submachine gun in his hand blazed to life as he fired at the monster wearing Goro’s face. The bullets streaked through the air, landing clean hits. For a moment, the cognitive Akechi flinched, Loki’s fire momentarily dissipating as the Eigaon collided to an area really close to Kou instead- cursed energy hurling at his direction as it exploded. One bullet pierced its hand—the one not holding the tape.
“You—!” The voice hissed in outrage.
The tentacles writhed violently, blocking or taking in the damage of the rest of the shots with ease. The rest of the bullets ricocheted uselessly off their dense surface. Akira’s frustration boiled as he flipped backward to dodge an incoming strike, throwing the strap of the gun over his shoulder.
“Seriously?!” he shouted, glancing briefly at Kou. “How many of you things resist bullets? This isn’t fair!”
The cognitive Akechi tilted its head, almost amused. Its crimson gaze followed Akira as he sprinted toward Kou, still bound and struggling. In one hand, the monster clutched the tape, its black blood dripping from the bullet wound.
Akira pulled something from his pocket—a grenade.
He didn’t have time for this nonsense.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he prepared to pull the pin and hurl it at the tentacle holding Kou when something wet snapped around his ankle.
“No- no- no-” He cries out as he finds the tentacle yanking him into the air. He hurtled through the air, clutching the explosive as his world spun violently. “FUCK!”