Zero

War of Brothers

In the dimly lit surroundings of the tavern, where laughter and music danced in the air, a tension unlike any other began to simmer. Astral stood frozen, a chill creeping down his spine as the ambiance faded into the background, leaving only the sinister presence of his past to loom over him.

As the tall figure descended from the bar, the atmosphere shifted; shadows clung to his form as he pulled back his hood, revealing tousled brown hair that framed his tanned visage. Dusty red eyes glinted with malice, studying Astral with an unsettling interest, and a twisted grin unfurled on his lips like a serpent ready to strike. "Atlus," he sneered, a name that echoed with dark memories and long-buried fears.

Panic seized Astral's heart, for that name—once a whisper of power and pride—now felt like a chain binding him to a darkness he had fought hard to escape. "Layen..." he managed to utter, desperation threading through his voice as the revelry around them continued, oblivious to the storm brewing in their midst.

Jaylen, sensing the shift, leaped down from his perch, eyes wide with concern as he approached the tension-filled standoff. "Ast?" he called, only to find his friend ensnared in the web of past horrors. The weight of the moment crashed upon Astral, a burden he thought he had left behind.

Layen, emboldened by Astral's fear, hissed as he prodded at old wounds, his words dripping with venom. "Come on, Atlus... you haven't told him your past?" The insinuation hung heavy in the air, taunting. Astral's resolve trembled as he took a step back, his instincts screaming danger.

As Jaylen pieced together the chilling legacy revealed by Layen, he froze—his eyes widening in horror at the realization. "Atlus... like the..."

"The Kuro Kurai," Layen interjected, his voice a cruel whisper that cut through the din of the tavern. He spoke of a band of assassins, a name that invoked fear and respect in equal measure. "Atlus was the most feared among them—a silent shadow cloaked in death, a master archer whose legend was steeped in blood."

Panic etched itself into Astral's features as Jaylen's disbelief morphed into fear. "Shut up—" he urged, desperation clinging to each word. But Layen's grip tightened around Astral's neck, lifting him off the ground with a predatory gleam in his eye.

The tavern's revelry morphed into chaos as Jaylen lunged forward, but the other two men seized him, dragging him outside amidst his protests and screams. Astral gasped, the grip around his throat a vice that threatened to snuff out his very essence.

"You abandoned your post," Layen hissed, a malevolent glint in his eyes. "Now they want you back. But if I deliver your head, I will rise as the most powerful and feared." The tavern faded into the background, trapped in a moment of time as darkness encroached, and the weight of destiny pressed down on Astral, binding him to the past he thought he had escaped.

Astral struggling, the air constricting around him like a vice. Astral gasped, desperation clawing at his throat as he struggled, his legs thrashing helplessly against Layen's iron grip. Outside, the world was shrouded in an eerie mist, where the murky grass of the swamp whispered secrets of old.

Bruno, a loyal friend in a world of chaos, rushed forward, only to be thwarted by Layen's ruthless resolve. In a swift, fluid motion, Layen hurled Astral through the shattered window, the sound of breaking glass echoing like a death knell. Astral tumbled into the outside world, landing with a thud upon the damp earth, gasping as he fought to regain his composure amid the suffocating stench of the swamp. From the shadows, Jaylen watched in horror, trapped beneath the grip of the nefarious black ops agents, his heart pounding in his chest as he witnessed Astral's plight. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he strained against his captors, his cries for help swallowed by the darkness that surrounded him.