Brandon walked around. There was no familiar face in sight.
Realizing he probably couldn't find them, he walked towards a nearby tree and leaned on it.
Flick. Flick—!
Lighting up a cigarette, Brandon took a drag, the bitter taste entering his mouth, followed by the heat that seemed to suffocate his throat.
Yet that suffocation seemed to ease his mind as he exhaled, the smoke escaping his lips.
Crouching down, he glanced at his phone.
For the past week, he had sent Illya to watch over Belle and Amelia whenever she was free.
In the first place, Illya was always free.
She had barely taken on any jobs, but since Brandon was paying her good, there was no way she would refuse.
In any case, Brandon frowned.
'Why isn't she responding?'
He had asked Illya for their whereabouts. Yet for some reason, she wasn't responding at all.
Brandon's thoughts were cut short when a voice reached his ears, soft yet clear.
"Strange, isn't it? How people vanish when you need them most."
Startled, Brandon turned to the side, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the boy standing nearby.
The kid had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"Where'd you come from?"
Brandon asked.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
"I've been here the whole time. You just didn't notice."
"Is that so?"
'Did my senses grow dull after all that isolation?'
"People have a way of ignoring what's in front of them when it doesn't fit their desires."
"Desires, huh?"
Brandon glanced around, then looked back at the boy.
"Are you lost? Or did you come to pay your respects too?"
The boy's lips curled into a small, almost amused smile.
"Pay my respects? No, not quite."
His voice was light. As if he was talking about something as mundane as the weather.
"Respect is given when it's earned, don't you think?"
Brandon frowned. The kid was oddly weird.
"What's your name?"
Brandon asked, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stomping on it.
"...."
The boy didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the distant building where the memorial service was held.
"Names are just titles, aren't they? People think they mean something, but they're just labels for things we want to own."
He paused, turning his sharp gaze back to Brandon.
"What's more important to you? A name? Or what someone can give you?"
Brandon blinked his eyes, confused by the sudden question.
"What are you talking about?"
The boy shrugged, taking a step closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
"We all want something, don't we? Whether we admit it or not. We cling to what we think will make us happy, make us whole. But in the end... it's never enough, is it?"
Brandon's brows raised.
"Did you watch too much anime....? What are you getting at, exactly?"
"You want to protect them, don't you? Your friends, your family. But how far are you willing to go? What will you sacrifice to keep them safe?"
Brandon's heart skipped a beat at the words.
There was something in the way the boy said it, as if he knew more than he should.
"What do you know about me?"
The boy's gaze remained fixed on him, unblinking.
"More than you think."
Silence hung between them for a moment.
Brandon's eyes narrowed.
"Who are you?"
"That's the question, isn't it? But maybe the better question is, who are you, Brandon Locke? What are you willing to give up to get what you want?"
The boy chuckled softly.
"Shut up."
He kicked the ground, cladding his blade in amethyst flames, the surrounding slowly enveloping in mist.
But just as the sword neared its target, more threads shot out, wrapping around the blade, stopping it inches away.
"...."
"You keep taking.... but what do you gain?"
Brandon gritted his teeth, pushing against the threads. Slowly, the threads began to tear.
Slash—!
With a surge of power, he broke through, the force sending the boy stumbling back.
Brandon didn't let up. He followed, swinging his sword in a relentless barrage of strikes.
The boy dodged gracefully, fluidly maneuvering through the attacks with ease.
"You think you're different?"
The boy whispered, continuously dodging with minimal effort.
"But you're just like everyone else, clinging to what you desire, never realizing it's slipping through your fingers."
Brandon ignored the taunt, focusing on each strike, waiting for an opening. But the boy was too fast.
Then, in a flash, the boy flicked his wrist, sending a wave of threads toward Brandon.
Brandon barely dodged to the side.
The boy smiled.
"You're fighting so hard, yet you don't even know why."
Brandon charged again, slashing at the threads that came at him from all sides.
His sword blazed with mana, cutting through them like paper.
But for every thread he cut, two more appeared.
"You're trapped, Brandon Locke," the boy said softly. "Trapped by your own greed."
Brandon pushed forward, his sword blazing brighter.
He swung with everything he had, a wide arc aimed at the boy's chest.
The boy raised his hand, as if to stop it. But this time, Brandon's blade met flesh.
Slash—!
A thin line of blood appeared on the boy's chest.
The boy's eyes widened in shock, his calm expression faltering for the first time.
"You.... cut through it?"
He whispered, touching the wound.
Brandon didn't hesitate. He followed up with another strike, aiming to finish him.
Brandon's blade cut clean through the boy's chest, blood splattering as the boy crumpled to the ground.
Panting heavily, Brandon stood over the body, sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Haaa.... H-haaa...."
His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He looked down, his sword still clutched tightly in his hand, blood dripping from its edge.
The boy lay motionless.
"Haaa.... Is it.... over?"
He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to calm his racing pulse.
But then....
"Did you really think it would be that simple?"
Brandon's entire body tensed. He froze.
Slowly, he turned around.
There, standing a few feet away, was the boy. Completely unharmed.
"You see," the boy said, an eerie smile spread across his features. "Greed never dies. It always comes back."
Brandon's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Seems like time is running out."
Snap—!
The boy snapped his fingers. All of a sudden, the space surrounding them shattered, and the rain's downpour drenched his features.
Looking around, the boy's figure was nowhere to be seen, as if he vanished along with the cracks.
This entire time....
"A Zone...."
He had been inside a [Zone].
His black bangs covered his face, blood trickling down, mixing with the rain.
"...."
The silence was palpable.