The Originals

Shadows of Regret

As Hiro approached the towering gates of the Citadel, his wings of shadow pulsed, outlined in glowing purple. He was a storm barely contained, each step deliberate as he neared his target. The gates loomed ahead, but before he could reach them, four figures emerged from the shadows.

Each had a unique presence: a woman with flowing purple hair and a serene, almost sad expression; a fiery redhead whose wild grin screamed chaos; a stoic blonde radiating the aura of a seasoned soldier; and a bald man with a single, hollow eye. Despite their differences, one feature unified them: their glowing eyes, the same unnerving hue as Lucius and Jefald's.

"Please stop." The purple-haired woman's voice was calm but carried a desperate undertone.

"Stop?" The redhead's grin widened into a deranged smirk. "No way! Let him come closer—it'll be fun."

"You killed Jefald," the bald man said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"I did." Hiro's reply was cold, detached. His wings flared slightly as he took another step. "Shall I make you next?"

"That won't be necessary," a calm voice cut in, silencing the Guards. A man stepped through a side door near the gate. He was shorter than the armored figures around him, his frame less imposing, but his presence was commanding. A long gray beard framed his face, and his lifeless gray eyes bore into Hiro.

"SIR!" the Guards said in unison, bowing on one knee.

"Emperor?" Hiro asked, his voice tinged with a flicker of hope.

The man inclined his head. "I am Emperor Jung, grandson of Clatius."

Hiro returned the bow but kept his wings spread. "I came all this way to speak with you."

"I know," Jung replied. "But I fear you've come in vain. Originals no longer hold sway here. Your time has passed, Hirito."

Hiro's expression darkened, his wings trembling. "Yeon is alive. I know it."

Jung's gaze remained steady. "He isn't. I saw his lifeless body with my own eyes. His death marked a turning point. We realized the Originals could no longer protect us. So we evolved."

He gestured to the bald man. "Commander Illiun, Second Branch of the Imperial Guard."

Illiun gave Hiro a small bow. "Original or not, you are trespassing."

Hiro scoffed. "I met the First Branch Commander, Lucius."

"Indeed," Jung said, his tone almost amused. "Lucius is the pinnacle of our advancements. His power rivals even yours."

Hiro's eyes burned. "I reduced one of your so-called Guards to dust. I'll do the same to anyone else who gets in my way. Don't insult divinity by comparing it to your mortal experiments."

Jung's eyes flicked to Hiro's wings. "Divinity? Demonic, more like. Your arrogance blinds you, Hirito. The Citadel has outgrown you."

Hiro surged forward. "You will listen to me!" he roared, but before he could reach Jung, a sharp pain shot through his stomach. He looked down to see Illiun's hand buried in his abdomen.

"When—" Hiro gasped, blood spilling from his lips.

Illiun's face twisted with regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears streaking his face. Hiro grabbed Illiun's forearm, his grip spreading black veins along the Guard's arm.

"Release me!" Illiun shouted, kicking off Hiro's chest. He stumbled back, clutching his fractured arm, now split where Hiro had gripped him. Darkness seeped into the wound like poison.

"EMPEROR!" Hiro bellowed, lunging forward, but the redhead intercepted him, her hand igniting in flames.

"My turn, baby!" she laughed, slamming him against the gate. Flames licked at Hiro's shoulder, burning deep.


Far from the Citadel gates, Taka sat slumped on a weathered bench in a small, empty park. The quiet buzz of insects and the rustling of leaves contrasted painfully with the turmoil raging in his chest. He leaned forward, head in his hands, as memories of Hiro's determined face flooded his mind.

"I shouldn't have left him," he muttered to himself. "What the hell was I thinking?"

The words Hiro had said before stepping onto that train replayed over and over, twisting like a knife in his gut. Hiro believed in something, and Taka had walked away. He'd justified it, convinced himself that Hiro's obsession with Claire and Yeon was reckless. But now, sitting alone, it felt like cowardice.

Taka clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. "I should've stayed. Damn it, I should've—"

A distant rumble broke his thoughts. He looked toward the direction of the Citadel. Even from here, he could see the flickers of Hiro's aura painting the sky in deep purples and blacks.

"He's fighting..." Taka whispered, standing abruptly. His mind warred with itself. Should he go back? Would he even make a difference if he did? Or was he already too late?

Hiro stood, his aura flaring as the purple-haired woman pressed her fingertips to his forehead. His body grew impossibly heavy, slamming him to the ground with a thunderous crash. Blood spilled from his mouth as he struggled against the weight.

"I told you," Jung's voice echoed faintly. "The Originals are relics. Even the weakest among my Guards can overpower you now."

Hiro's vision blurred, but he forced a grin through bloodied lips. "Weakest?" he muttered. His aura pulsed violently, shadowy tendrils rising from the ground. "You haven't seen anything yet."

As darkness exploded outward, the Guards faltered, their confidence replaced by panic. But Hiro's strength wasn't limitless, and the heavy toll of his injuries began to show. He staggered forward, still determined to reach the Emperor.

Taka clenched his jaw, his decision made. He turned toward the Citadel and began to run. "You better still be alive, Hiro," he muttered under his breath. "Don't you dare die on me."

Hiro raised his hands, explosions of darkness erupting beneath the Guards' feet. He lunged at the redhead, grabbing her throat. "I thought this would be fun," he snarled, his voice a guttural growl.

As her flames died out, Hiro's shadowy aura consumed her. He dropped her lifeless body and turned toward the door. His energy was nearly spent, each step heavier than the last, but his determination to reach the Emperor burned fiercely. Raising a trembling hand, he unleashed a final surge of power, blowing the door open in a burst of force.

He stepped through, but his legs buckled almost immediately. A crushing weight pressed down on him, and he collapsed to his knees. The cold stone floor bit into his skin as the room spun, the edges of his vision fading into blurry shades of gray. The air inside felt unnaturally still, a stark contrast to the chaos of the battle outside.

Then he felt it—a shadow, vast and oppressive, looming above him. Its presence was suffocating, pressing down on his chest as though the very air had turned against him. The sound of metal shifting and boots striking the floor echoed in his mind, each step slow and deliberate.

The shadow began to move closer, growing larger with each passing second. It didn't just block the light; it devoured it, bending the space around it into a distorted, crushing void. Hiro's limbs felt leaden, pinned down by an invisible force. Every breath was a battle, his strength faltering as the overwhelming presence bore down on him.

"Well, that was stupid," came Lucius's mocking voice.

Hiro growled. "Lucius."

Lucius crouched, his face inches from Hiro's. "You should've stayed out of this, Hirito." He touched Hiro's forehead, and everything went black.