Ender paced the empty pale room across from Ryu, each step carrying the whisper of a threat. His gaunt body was strained with anticipation, and his alien eyes held the coldness of a predator’s.

“Ready to do this, brother?” he asked.

“Aye.”

With a single word, the two leapt at each other. Ryu snarled. Gods, but it felt good to punish this parasite that inhabited his soul. He ducked a punch, blocked another, pulled his Twin close, and brought his forehead down on the bridge of the man’s nose. The copper scent of blood swept into his nose, and Ryu was on the battlefield once more. Dangerous things, memories.

A blow blurred his vision, and Ryu lashed out with a fist. He met air. The rough feel of rope scraped across his neck, his mind flashing back to the vision of the gallows once more. Then his vision cleared, showing Ender’s shin flashing towards his head.

He blocked and swung once more, feeling his teeth clack together. The pressure around his neck was growing, but his restraint was gone, replaced by his reptile mind. Madness descended upon the world.

He tore a chunk of Ender’s flesh free with his teeth, slamming his head up to catch the devil under the jaw. “Weak, am I,” he wanted to say, but what left his lips was a bestial thing, more snarl than words. A punch bounced off his shoulder, followed by another that left his head rattling. The pressure on his neck was now a metal vice, pressing the life from his miserable body.

Time’s fickle rule was overthrown in that small white chamber. Pain now held the reins, and she was a mistress who cared little for when. She ravaged his body, put it back together, and left him tottering in her wake. She was everything, yet Ryu had to deny her time and again. His fight was not done. He feared it might never be. The world had little need for good men.

Ender’s knee knocked the remaining air from him, and with it went the remaining resistance from his body. He dropped to a knee. His twin followed soon after, a large smile on his hungry face.

“Nasty piece of work, isn’t it, brother? Noose will keep our enemies from ever escaping. Oh, I only wish you would listen to me, but then, such is life.”

An axe materialized in Ryu’s hand. It was a long thing, its dark wooden handle decorated with carvings of angels and imps. It ended in a double-bladed head, and the blades looked like nothing more than the wings of a raven. In short, it was beautiful. The thought brought him only a grim amusement, however. He preferred plain weapons for a simple reason: war was ugly work. It was a shame, then, that this work of art’s first taste of blood came from his Shard Twin- an ugly soul if there ever was one.

Ender’s head dropped to the floor, his sneering lips devoid of their usual cruel twist. His pale body followed soon after. His eyes were smoldering pits, the axe having damaged done so much damage to the soul it ruined the body. He only wished it was the true end of the devil, but such was the way of pests. They were ever so hard to be rid of.

Battle Technique- Headsman

The Shinigami trades his weapon for the Afterlife’s. The more injured an opponent is, the more damage dealt by the axe Retribution and its soul-damaging blade.

He let the Technique take [Cripple]’s spot in his soul and sighed. Techniques made Skills look mundane, and they did not cost stamina, only mana- the pool of power that was contained in Ender’s chamber. Of course, Techniques also required more attention to use, as he had to will his mana through his body in the required form. The burden of power, perhaps.

His mind returned to the physical world with a shudder and a sharp intake of stale, dusty air. His body flinched with phantom pain and urgings he was forced to bite back. Though his body was satisfied, his mind ached with the hunger for power, an instinct he had thought suppressed in his time on the Sixth. Sure, he had murdered criminals, but they were weak things, more suited to easing his itch for battle than advancement.

Well fought, brother, Ender said in his mind. Ryu’s internal vision showed his Shard Twin looked… less than he had been before their fight. His appearance had not changed, but his presence was somewhat diminished. He figured it was the price of reviving after their duel.

“Thanks.” It was a bit strange to offer courtesies to a murderous devil that inhabited his soul, but then, kindness costed nothing. After all, Ender was tied to his well-being in a way no other person could be. His rage for his Shard Twin was subdued after their fight, if he was honest.

The safehouse room had not changed in his absence, and he stood with a stiff back. A few hours had passed during his Technique Formation, meaning it was already early morning. He did not have another fight until tomorrow, the fifth day of the Contest. His other competitors in the semi-finals would no doubt spend their rest day mingling and forging connections with their newfound status. After his first attempt at the practice the night before, Ryu had no interest in trying again, however. Winning the Contest would win more over to his side than words ever could, anyways.

Ryu readjusted [Shadow of One’s Self] to include Headsman and accepted the added strain with a sigh. After that came a set of clothes from his storage ring. His quest for power could wait now that he had come to terms with it. Today, Ryu had other priorities. He had a sister to support, a younger brother to bond with, and a father to make up lost time with.

The Sixth Ring’s gray morning sky greeted him with its temperate embrace. The few people out bustled with the resigned energy of workers off to work, and his keen nose picked up the unpleasant smell of packed human living. Shops, homes, and offices stood over the streets like a forest of stone. No birds fluttered in the sky, no bugs zipped around, and no faint ambience of wildlife dulled the faint sounds of war that whispered through the small district. It was as good as mornings came on the Sixth, a fact he found very disappointing.

Ryu marched down the safehouse’s wooden steps to the stone sidewalk below. It would be some time before the arena was open for the fourth day of the Contes, and his family would not be up at this hour, either. In short, he had time to kill.

He walked down the street for some time, trusting his nose to follow the earthy smells of pine and dirt. Before long, stone gave way to bark and dirt, and Ryu found himself in a small park. At the center of each of the Sixth’s hundreds of districts was a small square with the List could be viewed, but these places were not the true treasures of their districts. No, Ryu loved nothing more than the small parks scattered throughout the Ring.

Strange, that. For five long years, Ryu had longed to leave the Wilds of the Fifth Ring, where every step sent him squelching, trudging, and sliding in the thick black mud. Now, he longed for the time when his back was pressed against rough bark instead of smooth stone. He walked a dirt path that ran underneath the trees, repressing the memories of a body bleeding out in a forest long ago. It was sad, perhaps, that Ryu’s most comforting spots also brought up some of his worst memories, but then, the human mind longed for familiarity.

He plucked a leaf drifting through the air. Maybe it was the presence of his own kind that bothered him. Although the major forces seemed to dominate the Ring, he knew that dozens- if not hundreds- of minor guilds, sects, clans, and houses operated beneath them, and many even operated on their own under the banner of the Unaffiliated. It was easy to deal with the presence of so many when the Wilds were close enough to welcome him under their leafy boughs, but here? Ryu had no escape. The balm of Bonny’s care was no longer there to ease his worries.

He was torn between a chuckle and a sigh. Why the urge to save people he had no wish to be around? Part of him wanted to assign it to his noble ideals, but the truth was a far bleaker thing. Ryu was a guilt-ridden man, and he longed for a way to set his burdens aside. The fact that killing the Bugs offered great power was only a bonus.

He allowed the leaf to blow away in the morning’s soft breeze, the air kissing his cheek with cool lips. A mess. It was all a damned mess, yet he shouldered through, hoping he would burst out the other side and look back at the pile of his mistakes with a relieved sigh. If only. The end to Ryu’s disappointment laid twelve feet under, and he imagined the undead might ruin even that.

Such was life.