We were all standing there. Frozen. In total silence.
Before us, something unimaginable happened—Wisdom, the one we always looked up to, the one who guided and protected us, had just been cut in two.
There was no warning, no build-up, no drawn-out battle. Just one strike. One merciless, effortless attack by that demon.
And suddenly, she was gone.
No one could move. Our limbs were locked, our voices stolen. It was as if time had stopped just long enough for fear to set in, fully and completely.
This wasn't just a loss. This was a wake-up call.
Until now, the battles we fought felt like tests. Difficult, yes. But we always pulled through, always found a way. We thought we were growing. Getting stronger.
But this was different.
This was our first time facing something truly monstrous. Something that didn't just outmatch us—it made us feel completely powerless.
As the demon turned its gaze on us, fear consumed the group.
Creatifity, Justice, and Kindness turned and ran. There was no shame in it. What we faced was beyond anything we'd trained for. Their fear was real, and their reaction human.
That left just three of us behind: Fearlessness, Faith, and me.
Without thinking twice, Fearlessness rushed forward. That was who he was. His name wasn't just symbolic—he truly feared nothing.
He threw himself at the demon with all he had. Every ounce of strength, every technique he'd learned. Punch after punch. Blow after blow. He didn't stop, not even when it became clear it wasn't working.
Meanwhile, Faith dropped to her knees. Hands clasped tightly. Her mouth moved as she prayed under her breath, voice trembling, eyes wide. She was searching for strength, for guidance, maybe even for a miracle.
And me?
I stood there.
I wanted to move. To scream. To help.
But I couldn't.
My body wouldn't listen. My legs were stone. My hands, numb. My heart pounded so fast I thought it might burst through my chest. But still—I didn't move.
And then I saw it.
The demon struck Fearlessness down in a flash. No ceremony. No effort. Just a brutal, precise strike.
He fell. Our brave warrior… gone.
My knees buckled, and I dropped. Still, I couldn't act. Couldn't speak. My vision blurred, and all I could feel was the sound of my heart in my ears—like a drum of panic, pounding louder with each second.
Then the demon walked toward Faith.
She looked up, just in time to see it coming. She tried to run. Tried to shield herself. But it was too late.
With a flick of its blade, she too collapsed.
Now I was alone.
Paralyzed. Shaking.
I stared at the demon as he turned his attention to me.
He laughed.
Not just a chuckle. A cruel, mocking laugh that pierced through my soul. He saw me—frozen, weak, broken—and he enjoyed it. Every second of it.
He walked toward me slowly, savoring my terror…
And then I woke up.
My body shot upright in bed. I was drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly, gasping for air.
It took minutes before I realized it was over.
Or… was it?
It had felt too real. Too detailed. The fear still lingered. The images were burned into my memory.
I got out of bed and tried to live like it was a normal day. Went to school. Walked the halls. Sat in class.
But I wasn't really there.
Everything blurred together. People spoke to me, but I couldn't hear them. Teachers called my name, but I couldn't answer. I was still stuck in that moment. Still stuck watching my friends fall.
After school, my communicator buzzed. A group call from the Sharp Fighters.
I answered.
Wisdom was the first to speak. Her voice, usually steady and wise, was faint.
"About that fight…" she began, pausing. "I know I'm not the only one who can't stop thinking about it. And normally, I'm the one with the answers. The one who knows what we should do next."
Another pause.
Then she said, with a crack in her voice, "But this time… I don't know. I really don't. The only thing we can do now… is train."
Everyone nodded. Quietly. No one disagreed. The call ended shortly after.
When I got home, I lay down on my bed. I stared at the ceiling again, hands clenched into fists.
And then—I slapped myself. Hard.
"Did I forget who I am!?" I shouted to no one. "I'm Akira! I don't give up!"
Another slap. My face burned. But something inside me began to burn too.
A spark. A warmth. A flicker of power I thought I had lost.
My flame was reigniting.
I ran outside. I didn't know where I was going—I just ran. Through the streets, past strangers, past lights and sounds. Some people stared. Some whispered.
I didn't care.
I had to run out the fear. Burn it out. Leave it behind.
And when I finally stopped, chest heaving, sweat dripping, I felt it.
My flame… was alive again.
That night, I lay in bed and thought of every possible strategy. I racked my brain for plans. Nothing seemed good enough. Nothing could beat that monster.
But I didn't care.
I fell asleep with one thought in my mind.
And I dreamed again.
Same battlefield. Same fear. Same demon.
But this time, I didn't stand still.
I ran at him.
Full force. No hesitation.
I was cut down.
And I came back the next night.
And the next.
Again. And again.
While the others trained together…
I fought.
Alone. Unrelenting.
That was my training.
That was my path.
That was my WAY.