CHAPTER 71: THE SHADOW’S GIFT
The room was cloaked in an eerie silence, a suffocating weight that pressed against the walls as the temperature seemed to drop. The Kurushimi brothers, each lost in their thoughts of preparation for the war ahead, were abruptly jolted to attention by a sudden rift tearing through the fabric of reality.
A blackened void swirled into existence, crackling with crimson energy. From it emerged a towering figure, his 10-foot frame clad in dark, tattered robes that seemed to absorb light itself. His glowing red eyes, each marked with the unmistakable symbol of inverted satanic stars, burned with an intensity that seared the soul. The shadowy aura that clung to him whispered of unspeakable horrors.
The brothers instinctively sprang to action, their weapons drawn and their bodies tense. Yet, even as Krishna clenched his fists, his usually chaotic rage faltered in the presence of the overwhelming force before him.
“Who—no, what are you?” Martin’s voice, usually calm and composed, carried an edge of uncertainty.
“I am Deimos,” the figure intoned, his voice a deep, resonant echo that seemed to emanate from the depths of existence itself. “The God of Rape, Torture, and Murder.”
The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, their hands tightening on their weapons.
Deimos raised a shadowy hand, and the very air seemed to quiver. “Sixty-five years ago, I descended upon this world to grant my blessings to those who dared to challenge the impossible. Kaizen, Michael, Ray, Maya—all received my gifts. And with them, they turned the tide against Akuma. Without me, there would have been no victory.”
Martin’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s true, then why now? Why come to us?”
Deimos took a slow step forward, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to devour the light in the room. “Because you stand on the precipice of annihilation. Akuma has risen once more, and the world teeters on the edge of ruin. You will not defeat him as you are now.”
The brothers stood frozen, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
Krishna broke the silence, his voice laced with suspicion. “And you expect us to trust you? A god of—” He spat the words. “—rape, torture, and murder? What’s your angle? What do you gain from this?”
Deimos tilted his head slightly, the stars in his eyes swirling ominously. “I exist to witness chaos and suffering, yes. But I am not your enemy. My blessings are the edge that your father and his allies used to triumph. Without me, you will falter, just as they would have.”
Temna, ever the tactician, spoke up, his voice measured. “What exactly do these blessings entail? What will you do to us?”
Deimos extended his hands, and in them appeared shadowy orbs, pulsating with dark energy. “My blessings will amplify your strength, sharpen your instincts, and awaken the dormant potential within you. You will become shadows of vengeance, unstoppable forces in the face of your enemies.”
Takashi, though usually brash and cocky, hesitated. “And what’s the catch? No way something like this comes free.”
Deimos’ lips curled into what could only be described as a sinister grin. “The catch? You will bear my mark, and with it, a fraction of my essence will live within you. You will feel the pull of the shadows, the whisper of violence. It will be your burden to control.”
Martin’s mind raced. Their father, Ray, had accepted this power and used it to overcome Akuma decades ago. Now, the same opportunity was before them, but the cost was steep.
Krishna, his chaotic nature flaring, stepped forward. “I don’t care what it costs. If it means taking Akuma down, I’ll take your damn blessing.”
Temna, always cautious, nodded after a moment. “If it’s what we need to win, then so be it.”
Takashi, though still uneasy, smirked. “Guess I can’t let these guys have all the fun. Count me in.”
Martin, the leader, let out a deep breath. “We’ll take your blessing. But if you betray us, god or not, we’ll find a way to destroy you.”
Deimos let out a low chuckle, his form looming ever larger. “You’ll find that betrayal is not in my nature, mortal. My interest lies in your triumph, for it will bring the chaos I crave. Now, step forward, and claim your power.”
One by one, the brothers approached Deimos. The shadowy orbs floated toward them, merging with their bodies. A searing pain shot through each of them as dark marks etched themselves into their skin, glowing faintly before fading.
As the process concluded, Deimos stepped back, his red eyes gleaming. “It is done. You are now my shadow warriors. Wield this power wisely, for the world depends on your strength.”
With that, he disappeared into the void, leaving the brothers standing in silence, their minds racing with the weight of their new reality.
The battle against Akuma was no longer just a test of skill—it was a trial of will, of strength, and of their ability to harness the darkness within. The Kurushimi brothers had crossed a line they could never return from, and the final war had taken on an even darker edge.
THE TRUTH BOMB
As the lingering shadows of Deimos’ presence filled the room, the Kurushimi brothers felt the dark power coursing through their veins, heightening their senses and sharpening their instincts. Yet, the unsettling silence that followed was shattered by Deimos’ ominous voice echoing once more, though his physical form remained absent.
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“There is something else you must know,” Deimos began, his tone heavy with gravity.
The brothers tensed. This wasn’t over.
“You fight for a legacy, but that legacy has roots deeper than you realize. Your father, Ray, was not just a lone warrior in his battle against Akuma. He was mentored by the greatest assassins SAAHO has ever produced—Michael, Kaizen, and Maya, the titanic figures of their time. They were the #1, #2, and #3 assassins in SAAHO’s history, pillars of strength and skill. Without them, Ray would never have become the man who forged your bloodline.”
The revelation hung in the air like a thunderclap, the brothers staring at one another in stunned silence.
“Michael, Kaizen, Maya…” Martin’s voice trailed off as he processed the names. “They were more than legends?”
“They were gods among mortals in their prime,” Deimos continued. “But 65 years ago, they faced annihilation at the hands of the same enemy who now stands by Akuma’s side—Dr. Machinist.”
The mention of Machinist sent shivers down the brothers’ spines. They had fought his creations, seen his merciless ingenuity, and now they realized he had been a force of destruction for far longer than they’d imagined.
“He sought to eliminate them,” Deimos revealed, his voice resonating with a mix of disdain and pride. “They were too dangerous, too capable. He knew that if they lived, SAAHO would remain unshaken. And so, he came for them with his monstrous creations, aiming to extinguish their lives in the most brutal of ways. He nearly succeeded.”
Temna, ever analytical, frowned. “What stopped him?”
Deimos’ voice darkened. “I did.”
The room fell deathly silent.
“I saved Michael, Kaizen, and Maya from certain death,” Deimos declared, his tone unyielding. “Machinist had them cornered, broken, bleeding—mere moments from oblivion. I intervened, not out of mercy, but because their survival was necessary for the chaos I craved. I fought Machinist myself, forcing him to abandon his assault and retreat.”
Krishna, his fiery nature igniting, growled, “Why? Why save them if you’re a god of suffering? What’s the game here?”
Deimos let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Because destruction without balance is meaningless. They were the architects of chaos, the ones who shaped the battlefield and inspired fear. Their deaths would have created order—a stagnant world without resistance. I could not allow that.”
Takashi crossed his arms, skepticism etched across his face. “And our father? Where does he fit into all this?”
Deimos’ voice softened, though the weight of his words remained heavy. “Ray was their protégé, their successor. Michael, Kaizen, and Maya molded him, training him to be their equal and, eventually, their better. He was their hope, their legacy. When I saved them, I saved him as well. Without me, Ray Kurushimi would have died before you were ever born.”
The truth struck like a hammer. The brothers, already burdened by the weight of their lineage, now grappled with the knowledge that their father’s survival—and by extension, their very existence—was owed to a god of death and destruction.
“Everything we are,” Martin said quietly, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and resolve, “is because of you.”
Deimos’ form reappeared, his towering shadow enveloping the room once more. “Indeed. And now, the cycle comes full circle. Just as I granted them the power to stand against the impossible, I grant it to you. But remember this, mortals: the power I give you comes with a burden. It is not a gift—it is a weapon. Wield it wisely, or it will consume you.”
The brothers stood in silence, their minds reeling. The truth had changed everything. Their fight against Akuma was no longer just a battle for the world’s survival or their family’s honor. It was a continuation of a story that had begun long before them, shaped by forces they could barely comprehend.
As Deimos faded into the void once more, his final words lingered like a haunting echo:
“Your destiny was forged in the shadows long before you were born. Now, it is your turn to wield the darkness and decide the fate of this world.”
THE OLD STORY
As the shadows of Deimos’ presence settled, the room’s oppressive atmosphere was pierced by an unexpected chuckle. The Kurushimi brothers glanced at one another, puzzled by the sudden shift in tone.
“There’s something else about your father, Ray,” Deimos began, his voice laced with amusement.
The brothers tensed, unsure of what to expect.
“Fifteen years old, barely a man, and already unreasonably brave—or maybe just foolish,” Deimos continued, a faint smirk audible in his voice. “I encountered Ray for the first time when he was still in training under Michael, Kaizen, and Maya. The boy had no business being on the battlefield, yet there he was, raw determination etched into his face, his fists clenched like they could actually do something to me.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Wait... you mean our father faced you at fifteen?”
Deimos chuckled again, a low, resonant sound that seemed to shake the walls. “Faced me? That’s an interesting way to put it. The boy didn’t just face me—he punched me.”
The brothers froze, unsure if they’d heard correctly.
Krishna blinked. “He what?”
“Punched me. Right in the eye,” Deimos repeated, his tone somewhere between incredulity and pride. “Your father stood before a god of death and destruction, trembling but refusing to back down. I could see the fear in his eyes, but I also saw something else—a defiance that burned like fire. So, with all the strength his young body could muster, he swung at me. And... well, he hit his mark.”
Takashi burst out laughing, the mental image too much to contain. “He punched you? And you just let him?”
Deimos’ red, star-like eyes flared briefly, though there was no anger in his tone. “Let him? Hardly. The boy caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting a mortal child to be that reckless—or that bold. His punch had no real power behind it, of course, but it was enough to make me stumble and fall.”
Temna’s lips twitched, a rare smirk forming. “You’re telling us a fifteen-year-old knocked you over?”
Deimos growled lowly, though there was a hint of begrudging admiration in his tone. “He didn’t knock me over. I... tripped. A momentary lapse in balance, nothing more.”
Krishna couldn’t hold back his grin. “So, our dad literally floored a god?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it that way,” Deimos snapped, though his tone lacked true malice. “But yes, your father’s audacity caught me off guard. He stood over me, fists still clenched, and said, ‘If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. But I won’t bow to you.’”
The room fell silent, the weight of the story settling over the brothers.
“Your father, despite his youth and inexperience, possessed a courage that even I couldn’t help but respect,” Deimos admitted, his tone softening. “It was that moment that convinced me to spare him and watch his journey unfold. I wanted to see how far that fire would take him. And it did not disappoint.”
Martin crossed his arms, a small smile forming. “Sounds like Dad, all right. Bold to the point of recklessness.”
Krishna laughed. “And he punched a god in the face at fifteen. That’s going in the family legend.”
Deimos sighed, his towering form looming once more. “Mock me all you wish, mortals. But understand this: your father’s defiance was not just bravery—it was the foundation of everything you stand for now. That fire burns in each of you, and it will be what carries you through the trials ahead.”
As the brothers exchanged glances, the image of their father as a fiery, fearless teenager lingered in their minds, a reminder of the strength that ran through their bloodline.
And though Deimos had returned to the void, his lingering presence carried one final echo of reluctant respect:
“Ray Kurushimi... the only mortal foolish enough to strike a god. And for that, he earned my eternal Respect.”