Madness: DxD

DxD

I stagger across shattered concrete, blood soaking through my coat, every breath tasting like rust and smoke. One arm hangs useless. The other keeps my katana barely upright. I don't look heroic. I look functional. Barely.

Trixie towers over me. Horned, burning, laughing in that way that isn't sound so much as pressure in the skull.

Trixie: Still standing? You're exhausting!

Legend: I try to be.

I rush her anyway. Bad choice. I always make those.

Steel meets claw. The impact rattles my bones like loose change. I slide backward, boots carving trenches through ash. Trixie's tail snaps around and flings me through a collapsed wall. Metal screams. I don't. No energy left for that.

I roll, try to stand, fail, settle for kneeling. My katana digs into the ground to keep me upright. My vision pulses. Red. Black. Red again.

Trixie: You're slowing down. Where's that stubborn little spark?

Legend: You burned it. Along with everything else.

Trixie rears back, fire gathering. This one's meant to end it. I know the look. Final blows have a certain enthusiasm to them.

She strikes.

I block, kind of. The force caves my guard, slams me into the street. My katana skids away, clattering like it's embarrassed to be seen with me. I cough. Something inside me cracks. Probably important.

I try to rise. My legs don't agree. I stay kneeling, head bowed, hands shaking.

Behind me, the ground trembles.

Two giant buildings slam down from nowhere, framing the battlefield like executioners. Their doors burst open.

AALN AGENTS pour out. Rows of them. Black suits. Red glasses. Professional. Efficient. Here to make sure I don't get back up again.

Trixie: Ohhh, backup! You shouldn't have!

She claps. The sound breaks windows that still existed.

An agent steps forward, picks up my katana. He tests the weight. Nods. Brings it up like he knows what he's doing.

I don't look at him. I don't look at anything. The world feels thin. Like it's about to tear.

The blade comes down.

Everything stops.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Snow freezes mid-fall. Fire locks into jagged sculptures. Trixie's grin hangs unfinished.

The silence is wrong.

Endure

Then whispers. Everywhere. Nowhere. Soft at first, like static under skin.

Defy.

They grow louder. Heavier. Not kind. Not gentle. They don't comfort me. They demand.

SLAUGHTER.

My grip tightens.

Time snaps back.

I move.

I surge up from my knees, rip the katana from the agent's hands, and in the same motion draw a red line across his neck.

I don't stop.

I carve through the next two agents like they were suggestions. Gunfire erupts. Too slow. I'm already inside their formation. Steel flashes. Armor splits. Visors shatter.