The moon was a blood coin that night, half-swallowed by clouds as Ren and his squad crawled beneath the twisted roots of the old world. The tunnel mouths were silent—too silent. Not even rats dared to trespass. The air stank of rust, rotting meat, and something worse: decisions that should never have existed.
Ren moved like breath through shadow, every step echoing in his ears. Koji followed, teeth clenched around a stolen encryption chip. Serena flanked him, blade in hand, knuckles pale. And behind them, like an echo of fate, came Yui—barefoot, her hair tied back, her golden eyes dull as hammered brass.
They passed murals carved into stone—ancient Argwan art. Screaming faces. Children crucified in impossible geometries. One chamber reeked of melted teeth. Another held a row of rusted mirrors that reflected not the body, but one's worst memory.
Ren caught his breath when his own image showed a hospital room. A white door. Sora's body, pale and cold. "Keep walking," he muttered to himself.
They finally reached a hatch labeled Hell Sector: Observation Wing.
Koji hacked it with trembling fingers. "Once we cross this," he whispered, "there's no turning back."
Serena nodded. "We were already damned."
They dropped in.
And so began the descent into Argwan Hell.
It was not fire that greeted them—but silence.
Thick, suffocating. The kind of silence that carried screams locked inside it. The hallway stretched endless and wrong, its proportions subtly off—doors too narrow, walls too wide, floors tiled with bones bleached perfectly white. Lights buzzed overhead, casting flickering illumination over bloodless handprints.
A speaker crackled above.
"Welcome to the game. Cellblock Theta, Scenario 5. Prisoner: Subject 4789. Choice: The twins. One knife. One breath. Decide."
A girl screamed. A man wept. A blade clattered to the ground.
Ren froze. That voice…
Another scream—no, two. Both children.
Yui's hand tightened. Her voice barely above a whisper. "They're watching everything. Like gods."
Koji flinched. "They make them decide. Who dies. Who watches. And if they don't…"
"They both die," Yui finished, expression stone.
Serena gagged but didn't stop moving.
They found the first cells.
Each was glass-walled and numbered. Some were empty—shards of blood and memory scattered like trash. Others still held people: men with blank eyes, women gnawing their own fingers, children curled around decaying toys, whispering things to the walls.
Then Ren saw her. Sakura.
Ami's sister. Her face was pale, lips cracked, arms bruised. But she was alive.
Yui slammed her palm against the control panel. With a flicker of golden light, the lock crumbled. Sakura fell into Ren's arms, gasping. "Where… where's Ami…?"
"She's safe," Ren whispered. "We're getting you both out."
Sakura nodded weakly, then jerked. "No! They—they know you're here!"
Koji's hand shot up—too late. The wall exploded behind them.
An Argwan Hellwarden.
Ten feet tall. No eyes. Skin like flayed steel and bone-stitched armor. It moved with the rhythm of judgment.
Serena screamed and lunged, blade carving an arc into its thigh—but the wound sealed instantly. It lifted her by the throat and hurled her into the far wall.
Ren raised his rifle—fired three shots. Sparks. The beast didn't flinch.
"YUI—"
But she was already moving.
She ran straight into the Hellwarden's path, golden shockwaves erupting around her like nova-bursts. Her eyes were cold. Emotionless. Focused.
She didn't scream. She didn't flinch.
She reached into the beast's chest with glowing fingers and whispered, "You chose to become this."
The light pierced through.
The Hellwarden seized. Its body twisted—imploded inward in a grotesque implosion of meat and memory. Its scream echoed in unnatural harmonics that shattered nearby glass. Then silence again.
Yui stood there, chest heaving. Blood on her cheek. Her hand trembled—but her eyes were blank.
Serena staggered to her feet. "What the hell… did she just do?"
"She found the guilt," Ren whispered, horrified. "And she crushed it."
Yui turned toward him slowly. "They used to be human, Papa."
Cellblock Omega
Ren and his team pressed deeper. Koji opened cells by touch now, freeing captives with shaking hands. Most were too far gone to speak. Some tried to bite them. One girl hugged Yui and cried until her lungs collapsed.
In the final corridor, lights turned crimson.
A new voice filled the hallway:
"Welcome, Kuroda Ren. Did you come to relive your sins?"
Yui froze. "Ryo."
The corridor shook. Metal melted from the walls. And at the far end, he stood.
Ryo.
Still beautiful. Still tall. But his right side had turned obsidian, carved with golden veins. A crown of writhing synthetic nerves curved around his head. His eyes glowed like suns—and behind him stood two figures: Kaito, smiling faintly, and Mother, swaying gently, blindfolded and humming.
Ryo stepped forward.
"So the ghost returns to burn the cage he built," he said softly. "You didn't think I'd let her go, did you?"
Ren stepped forward, rifle raised. "Let them go. Or I'll tear this place down brick by brick."
Ryo smiled sadly. "This is not a place, Ren. This is your legacy."
He clapped.
The floor erupted in flame. Shadows spilled out, shaped like Argwan enforcers—but wrong. Twisted. Fast. Emotionless versions of Ren himself, with black eyes and broken hands.
Yui stepped beside her father, arms glowing. "They're copies."
"They're your lies," Ryo whispered.
The fight was chaos. Serena roared as she slammed a pipe through one clone's skull. Koji covered the rear, firing stolen Argwan plasma rounds. Ren tore through two doppelgangers with his blade, even as they whispered his dead sister's name.
And Yui—Yui was a storm.
She pulsed outward in waves, her golden light turning to burning arcs that carved through the false Ren-shadows like lightning through wet paper. But it wasn't rage in her face anymore.
It was clarity.
She looked Ryo in the eye as she walked forward. "You want to break them by forcing impossible choices. You want them to become hollow. But I've already made my choice."
She raised her hand.
"I won't become you."
She unleashed a blinding flare of golden power. Not destructive. Restorative. It shattered the cell walls. Freed the captives. Crashed the surveillance systems. A wave of light engulfed the Hell.
And then, darkness.
Later.
Ren woke to ash.
They stood in the wreckage of Argwan Hell, the facility burning behind them. Survivors clung to each other, sobbing. The sun was rising.
Yui knelt in the dirt, silent.
Ren approached her, slowly. "You did it," he said. "You saved them."
She looked at him with tired eyes. "I feel empty."
"You held onto your soul."
"No," she whispered. "I let it go, Papa. I had to."
Ren fell to his knees beside her. "Then I'll hold onto it for you. Until you're ready."
She leaned into him, tears silently falling.
Behind them, the wind carried the echoes of screams that would never leave. But also—laughter. Cries of reunion. And for a moment, in the hollow of a world almost gone, there was peace.
But Ryo still stood—somewhere beyond the flames.
And the war was far from over