The Force Of Nature

Kyoki no tatakai part 3

Patrolling the Streets of Despair

The city had become a battleground—shattered and forsaken. The bloodshed and destruction from the earlier encounter had barely settled, but heroes were already on high alert, ready to contain the madness that had taken root in the streets. Among them were Top 37 Hero: Shieldheart and Top 36 Hero: Thunderstrike, two of the most renowned heroes in Japan. Both were known for their indomitable resolve, their unwavering commitment to protect the citizens no matter the cost.

Shieldheart, a towering figure armored in reflective blue plating, and Thunderstrike, a sharp-eyed man who controlled the power of lightning, had been patrolling the city's streets after the brutal encounter with the villains. They were supposed to be the city's shield, its last line of defense against the tide of chaos that had risen in the aftermath of the villain attacks. Little did they know, they were walking directly into the path of something far worse.

The streets were eerily quiet when they arrived at the scene, an unsettling calm hanging over the area. There was no sign of conflict, no lingering sounds of battle. But there was something else. A suffocating presence in the air. The oppressive weight of it gnawed at the edges of their senses, making every movement feel heavier.

Shieldheart looked to his partner, Thunderstrike, his armored face showing the weariness of a long night. "Stay alert. This feels wrong."

Thunderstrike nodded, his fingers tingling with electricity as he prepared for whatever might be ahead. "Yeah... Something's off."

As they advanced cautiously, moving deeper into the empty streets, the ground beneath them suddenly felt too quiet. The distant hum of city life had vanished entirely, and with it, the faint buzz of streetlights, the hum of distant engines, the murmur of conversation—it was as if the world itself had gone silent.

A Horrific Discovery

And then they saw it.

A sudden wave of chilling horror crashed over them as a shower of human bodies fell from the sky, their limp forms scattering across the pavement like discarded puppets. The street became an instant graveyard as at least four hundred citizens, their faces twisted in terror, plummeted from some unseen height. Their bodies were broken, mangled by the sheer force of their fall, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

The impact was deafening—thuds like thunder crashing against the concrete. The stench of blood filled the air, and Shieldheart staggered back in disbelief. Thunderstrike's eyes widened in sheer shock, his fists crackling with power but unsure of what to do.

"What... what happened?" Shieldheart managed to croak, his voice faltering as he looked at the sea of corpses that now littered the street.

Thunderstrike clenched his fists, trying to reign in his anger. "This... this can't be real. These people—why—what kind of monster could do this?"

They couldn't understand. No one could. The bloodshed was so senseless, so unnatural that even the seasoned heroes were frozen, unable to comprehend the scale of what had just unfolded.

And then, they saw him.

Standing at the heart of the carnage, his back to them, was the boy—the same creature that had obliterated the villains and heroes alike in mere moments. His form, draped in the oppressive darkness of the night, stood unfazed by the nightmare he had just unleashed. His small frame was still, his expression as blank as ever. His eyes, those cold voids, didn't even flicker with recognition as the heroes approached. He didn't even turn to face them.

Shieldheart's chest tightened as he took a hesitant step forward. "You... did this?"

The boy remained silent, his gaze seemingly drifting in all directions at once, his body as still as a statue. It was as if he didn't acknowledge their presence at all, his focus purely on the devastation before him. But there was something chilling in his indifference. A deep, unsettling malice. The sheer absence of humanity in the boy's demeanor was enough to freeze anyone in their tracks.

Thunderstrike, unwilling to show weakness, raised his hand, crackling with electric energy. "Kid," he growled. "Answer us! What do you want with all these people?"

The boy's gaze finally shifted. Slowly, his head turned toward them, his dark eyes locking onto the two heroes. Shieldheart and Thunderstrike instinctively took a step back, their bodies tensing in preparation for an inevitable confrontation.

The boy's expression didn't change. He didn't smile. He didn't sneer. He simply stood there, staring at them, unfazed by the destruction surrounding him.

The Battle That Shouldn't Have Been

Without warning, the boy took a step forward. It was small, almost delicate, but there was something terrifying in the way he moved—like a predator stalking its prey.

Shieldheart's instincts screamed at him to react, to take action, but his body was slow to respond. Thunderstrike, too, felt the air grow thick with danger. His hands began to crackle with energy as he prepared to unleash a bolt of lightning, but before he could do so, the boy's eyes glowed with an unnatural, void-like intensity.

The world seemed to collapse in on itself as the boy's presence overwhelmed them. The very air itself seemed to warp, bending around the boy as if his power were shaping reality itself. The streets around them twisted, folding inward as if caught in a gravitational pull.

Thunderstrike barely had time to react as the boy's energy reached out, lashing out with terrifying speed. In an instant, the boy had closed the distance between them, and Thunderstrike found himself hurled into the air, his body twisted like a ragdoll before crashing into the ground with a sickening thud.

Shieldheart, still in shock, tried to raise his shield, but it was like trying to block an incoming tidal wave with a paper fan. The boy's force shattered through his defenses in an instant, sending him flying back, his armor cracking under the sheer intensity of the boy's power.

For a brief moment, everything was still. Shieldheart struggled to get to his feet, his vision spinning, blood pooling around him. Thunderstrike was unconscious, his body battered and broken.

The boy stood over them now, silent and unwavering. His expression hadn't changed. His empty gaze moved past them, back to the carnage he had created—the hundreds of bodies, strewn about like lifeless dolls. There was no sorrow in his eyes. No sense of guilt. Only the cold, unfeeling stare of something beyond human comprehension.

The Aftermath

The boy turned, his form flickering for a brief moment before he disappeared into the shadows, his presence vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

And in the stillness of the aftermath, Shieldheart and Thunderstrike lay on the cold, lifeless street, barely conscious, their bodies broken. The boy had made his point. And as the heroes struggled to comprehend what had just happened, one thing was clear:

There was no stopping him.

To Be Continued...