SOUL-SEEKER || (On Hiatus)

(Chapter 43) Shattered Hope.

After an arduous journey that involved traversing various terrains and overcoming unforeseen obstacles, Niko and Lori, their clothes dusted with the remnants of their trek, wearily arrived at the entrance of the safe house. The tension in the air was palpable, and the guards stationed around the safe house, ever-vigilant in their duty, swiftly converged upon the president. With a collective sigh of relief, they assessed his well-being, checking for any signs of injury or distress. Reassured by the president's unscathed appearance, their stern expressions softened into a blend of gratitude and admiration. Having confirmed the safety of their esteemed charge, the guards turned their attention to Niko and Lori, the valiant hunters who had steadfastly shielded the president from potential harm. A sense of gratitude emanated from the guards as they extended their thanks, acknowledging the courage and dedication displayed by the duo in safeguarding their leader.

GRD: Thanks for everything! We'll send our compliments to Miss Fiona about the two of you!
NKO: No need, we're simply carrying out our duties.
PSD: Niko Shizora & Lori Rofillet, please state any wishes you want fulfilled.
LOR: A coupon for unlimited ice cream.
PSD: Right... and what about you, Niko?
NKO: I'd like to save that for my friend, Kaito.
PSD: Understood, in that case, the nation will compensate you in due tim-

Nikos' and Loris' eyes widened, their pupils dilating with shock and horror, as arterial blood sprayed onto their faces like macabre confetti, creating an ominous tableau in the air. The once dignified setting, where the president's words reverberated, was abruptly disrupted by the sickening sound of a single bullet tearing through the air, finding its chilling mark in the president's head. The area, once filled with the weight of political discourse, was now permeated by the metallic scent of blood and the haunting echo of a life violently extinguished. The guards, trained to respond with lightning reflexes, swiftly assumed defensive positions, their muscles tensed with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. Panic gripped the air as they scrambled to locate the unseen threat, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a desperate urgency. However, their efforts proved futile, as an invisible force seemed to have already infiltrated their ranks. The very atmosphere seemed to tremble with an eerie foreboding. In a macabre dance reminiscent of nature's brutal order, the guards, now reduced to mere pawns in a deadly game, succumbed to the invisible menace that had infiltrated their midst. Like a predator striking fear into its prey, the guards, overwhelmed by an insidious force, succumbed to the overwhelming dread, their bodies surrendering to the inevitable collapse as they crumpled to the ground in a symphony of thuds. The once authoritative figures, who had stood as guardians of order and security, now lay strewn across the floor like fallen soldiers on a battlefield. The cold reality of the situation enveloped Nikos and Loris, leaving them paralyzed witnesses to the sudden chaos that had erupted in the heart of power.

LOR: H-How are you here?!
FSH: Hmm? Oh, you mean that.

Flesh, with a malevolent glint in his eyes, slowly curled the corners of his lips into a sinister smirk, relishing the discomfort he was causing the two. Loris, his emotions simmering beneath the surface, felt an intense surge of anger welling up within the recesses of his heart. Meanwhile, Niko, quick to respond, tightened his grip on his fists, the tendons in his hands flexing with a silent promise of the storm that was about to unleash.

FSH: I've killed Kaito Morita.
LOR: In that case, die! Puppet Carnival!

Hundreds of lifeless wooden puppets, crafted with meticulous precision, rose from the damp earth, their joints creaking as they moved in an eerie unison. With an otherworldly grace, Flesh unsheathed his gleaming katana, the blade catching the ambient light as he lunged forward with calculated determination. Each puppet, a mere puppet yet armed with an almost sinister intent, met the sharp edge of his katana, their limbs separating from their torsos in a macabre dance. Amidst the chaos, Niko materialized from the shadows, his presence masked by the puppetry onslaught. His movements were swift, a dance of deception as he approached Flesh from an unexpected angle. Flesh, however, was no stranger to the art of combat. With a keen sense, he pivoted, his katana forming a lethal barrier against Niko's sudden assault. Yet, in a twist of fate, Niko's form seemed to warp and contort. In the blink of an eye, he metamorphosed into a perfect replica of a wooden puppet, seamlessly blending into the horde. Flesh's confident smirk faltered, his senses momentarily betrayed by the illusion. Unbeknownst to him, the real Niko, now concealed within the puppetry masquerade, prepared for a devastating strike. From the shadows, the authentic Niko emerged, muscles coiled with energy as he unleashed a powerful punch from behind. The impact reverberated through the battlefield, a testament to the mastery of deception and strategy in this surreal clash between the living and the lifeless.

NKO: You're underestimating us.

Flesh, feeling the stinging sensation of pain, tenaciously propels his battered body upward, mustering every ounce of strength to reclaim an upright position. A grimacing expression reveals the struggle etched across his face as he expels a mixture of blood and saliva, forcefully ejecting the metallic taste from his mouth. With a deliberate and defiant motion, he employs the back of his hand as an impromptu makeshift towel, swiping away the crimson evidence of the intense confrontation. As the liquid residue is smeared across his face, a sly and defiant smirk forms on his lips, a subtle but pronounced declaration of resilience in the face of adversity.

FSH: You two are much more interesting than white-hair.
LOR: I'll make you eat those words!

Lori, with a determined glint in her eyes, meticulously refines her technique, each movement deliberate and purposeful. She elevates her skill, infusing it with a newfound intensity, as if unlocking a reservoir of hidden prowess. On the other side, Niko, attuning himself to the impending challenge, narrows his focus to a razor-sharp precision. His senses become finely tuned instruments, absorbing every nuance of the environment, ready to react with lightning speed. Meanwhile, Flesh, the seasoned warrior, seamlessly executes a strategic maneuver. With a swift and practiced motion, he extracts a second blade from its concealed sheath, choosing a shorter yet no less deadly companion. The metallic hiss as the blade unsheathes resonates in the air, a prelude to the impending clash. Readying himself for the impending battle, Flesh assumes a stance that speaks volumes of his experience – a stance that communicates both confidence and wariness, a warrior poised on the precipice of conflict.

End of Chapter 43
"Shattered Hope"

[ The JDME President is dead. ]