City of Zons — Rooftop
Neon rain ripples across the skyscrapers, every wall a shifting lattice of holograms. On a rooftop, a girl sits on the ledge, green hair whipping in the wind. A sleek machine-gun rests against her thigh, cables snaking from the weapon straight into the ports beneath her neck. She wears an oversized red jacket. Her eyes— pure, crystalline blue— flicker with scrolling data. Around her neck billows a crimson scarf.
A few steps away, a teenage boy sways on unsteady legs. Black hair streaked with crimson clings to his damp forehead; blue irises fracture into red veins. His skin is ghost-white, his fingernails sticky with half-dried blood. An oversized green jacket hangs from his shoulders.
He coughs once— hard— and blood splatters the rooftop tiles.
The girl rushes to his side as fast as lightning, warm fingers curling around his icy hand. She smiles at him.
"Little Lucil is weak again." with a teasing voice too gentle to sting.
"You could use my real name." he rasps.
"I like Lucil more, ###_###."
He smiles. "I'm dying, you know."
"Then I'll fight." She squeezes his hand, eyes full of determination. "And if I fight, Lucil, promise me something."
She guides him to the railing. Together they stare down at the city— an endless ocean of chrome towers drowned in smog.
"Never stop fighting." she whispers. "As I'll keep fighting for you."
Lucil's breath fogs the air. "I'll break if I fight every day."
The girl's grin widens. She points upward— fingertips glowing as they trace a sign in the holographic night sky. Just one single digit carved in monochrome light is visible: -9u.
"Promise me." she insists.
A fresh spasm racks Lucil. More blood gushes past his lips, and something dark, wet, and organic slides onto the concrete. He shudders. She folds him into her arms, scarf wrapping them both in a flash of red.
"Lucil." she murmurs against his ear, "Fight. Don't die. Fight until it hurts. Fight and never give up. Don't break— never break."
His arms circle her.
"That's a harsh promise." he whispers— but his grip tightens, as if he's already given his answer.
??? | City of Stois
High noon burns bright over the meadows outside Stois, gilding every poppy-red blossom. She wades through them— a girl with orange that is streaked with silver, brown eyes laced with quicksilver sparks. White-metal prosthetic arms catch the sunlight. A black summer dress sways around her knees, a crescent-moon necklace rests against her collarbone.
A man waits among the flowers— tall, black hair streaked with light silver, a charcoal suit immaculate despite the heat. Deep brown eyes, fractured by silver fragments, watch her approach. A cigarette dangles between his fingers; the smoke curls blue.
"So, Silver—"
"I hate that name." he interrupts, exhaling azure haze. "And I am not Silver. Call me by my real name."
She laughs. "Always so serious— almost adorable."
With a sudden burst of joy, she seizes his hand and twirls him into an awkward waltz. He sighs, drops the cigarette to the wayside— it flickers out and simply vanishes in the soil— then lets her spin him beneath the summer sky.
"I'm expecting a child." she blurts, breathless.
He stops short. "Wait— really?"
"Yes." she whispers, cheeks flushed.
A slow, astonished smile spreads across his face. He lifts her by the waist and spins her once, then twice, and again among the flowers. Yet with each step her weight drags heavier. She slumps against his chest, prosthetic arms trembling. Then her knees give out, and she collapses, falling to the ground in a swift motion.
"Hey— wake up." Panic cracks his voice.
A thin line of blood seeps at her thighs. Her skin cracks slowly.
"Keep fighting, my love." he pleads.
She forces a weak smile. "Everything for you, Silver. But promise me something."
"Anything."
"Fight. You act so strong, but I see the loneliness in you— the emptiness." Her voice falters. "Promise you won't let it swallow you."
He closes his fingers over hers, pulse hammering. "Everything will be fine."
"Promise me."
She nods.
"I will fight." he vows.
??? | Power Plant | Midnight
Lucil limps across the lowest level of the power plant, clad in an oversized red jacket, black cargo pants, and a red scarf. A blade formed from metal scrap weighing down his left hand, the machine-gun in his right rattles with every ragged breath. Around him, ruin— white bio-mass slithering over shattered turbines, red lightning arcs along burst conduits. Hatred thunders in his skull.
At the far end of the chamber stands Silver, face twisted in fury, a pistol clenched in one hand and a combat knife in the other.
"Your attacks killed everything I love!" he roars.
"You and your family took everything from me!" Lucil answers, voice raw.
They charge. Knife meets scrap metal with a shriek of sparks— no finesse, only brute rage. Silver snaps the pistol up and empties a magazine into Lucil's shoulder. The rounds punch through meat and bone, but Lucil doesn't stagger. He pushes forward.
"I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do!" Lucil growls.
He forces Silver's knife away and slams the metal scrap blade into his foe's collar, shredding the joint. Silver screams. Lucil hurls the scrap aside.
An explosion erupts behind them. The floor buckles— concrete breaking— both men plunge into the cable-choked sub-basement below.
Alarms wail. Wires slithering like serpents. Lucil's body is a wreck— burns searing his side, one arm gone.
"Why— why did you have to take them away? Answer me!" His scream ricochets off the surrounding steel.
Pinned against a panel, Silver pushes off jagged rebar skewering his torso. Blood drips down his ruined arm.
"You took them away first! So shut up—die already!" he snarls.
"I will fight!" both shout.
Lucil claws up his machine-gun with his remaining arm. A memory slices through the pain— a girl with long green hair, laughing beneath rain. He presses trembling fingers to the scarf she gave him.
Silver slams a fresh, cobalt-shining magazine into his pistol. Overhead, the blast-torn ceiling reveals a perfect, silent moon. He fumbles beneath his suit, touching the crescent necklace at his chest.
"You will not break me." he vows.
"I'll end you." Lucil growls.
They raise their guns and squeeze the triggers. Muzzles flash.
Both bodies collapse— but fingers still twitch. Driven by rage alone, they drag themselves upright once more, eyes blazing through the smoke. Dead men who refuse to die until the other is ash.
Estarium | Berlin Underground
The Estarium once gleamed beneath Berlin— mage towers clustered like a village, streets lit by prismatic runes, the great glass façade of the Academy mirroring a fountain that sang with arcane water. Every stone once hummed in harmony— until the vision shatters.
Now the towers lie broken. The library is a burned-out husk and a thousand bodies carpet the square. Blood pools and steaming where light once danced.
At the fountain's edge stands a lone gunman. A blue-gripped pistol rests in his hand, and his green uniform is soaked in blood. Pitch-black eyes scan the carnage. A harsh laugh splits the silence.
"Submit to my ideals." he calls, "or die."
Bootsteps echo through the rubble.
Lucil emerges first— scarlet hair whipping behind a crimson jacket emblazoned with a single rose, crimson scarf trailing down his back. A violet-red sword hangs loose in his fist.
Beside him strides Silver: argent hair, silver-white eyes, moon necklace glinting against a silver coat. An ivory-hilted blade rests on his shoulder.
The gunman's grin widens. "So the cursed duo arrives. Lucil and Silver— fighting together at last."
Lucil's voice rings through the ruin. "BLOOD BREAK."
Every corpse in the square unravels into crimson petals, swirling into a storm of roses.
Silver answers, cold. "Lunation Zero: Cycle's End."
Moonlight floods from his blade.
The gunman raises his weapon, runes blazing along the slide.
"Vernichtung des Erbenden—Reine Annihilation!"