Chapter Twenty-Seven: With Heavy Hearts: Part Two

Yozora’s vision blurred as he forced his head up from the ground, the sharp, metallic scent of blood filling his nostrils. His limbs felt heavy, leaden with pain, but that was nothing compared to the sight before him. The graduates lay scattered like shattered porcelain, their bodies broken and twisted in grotesque angles. Their faces, once full of life and hope, were now frozen in masks of horror. Their screams still echoed in his ears, a cacophony of agony that tore at his soul.

The ceremony was a nightmare made real. The air was thick with the sickening stench of fear, and death. Every breath Yozora took burned his lungs as his heart pounded in his chest, a frantic, desperate rhythm that mirrored the chaos around him. But even amidst the terror, he knew he had to stay calm. He couldn’t let panic overtake him. He had to fighting for them.

A knot of dread twisted in his gut, not from fear for his own life, but for those who still struggled to survive. He couldn’t shake the memory of Mara, couldn’t forget the anguish of watching her fall. That image haunted him, a constant reminder of how little he could do. The weight of helplessness was suffocating, pressing down on him with the weight of a thousand regrets. His body refused to move, bound by pain and exhaustion, but his mind... his mind was somewhere darker.

Maybe this is all my fault.

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The thought gripped him like a vice, sinking deep into his chest. If Mara and T.LAC had never met me... If I had died when I was supposed to... maybe they would still be happy. The guilt was overwhelming, a gnawing wound that festered with every heartbeat.

Then, amidst the swirling fog of despair, a voice cut through the haze—distant, yet familiar.

“Zora... You must wake up. The little giant can’t sleep anymore. You promised me, you’d come back. WAKE... UP!”

The words struck him like a physical blow, jolting his mind back to the present. His fingers twitched, and with a surge of will, Yozora began to rise. His legs shook beneath him, but he stood, driven by a desperate need to do something—anything—to stop the carnage unfolding before his eyes.

But before he could fully regain his footing, a figure materialized behind him—a shadow looming in the chaos. "I thought they said you were back," the figure sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "The legend himself. Suits Class, right? And yet, you can’t even defend yourself."

The figure shook his head, his hands resting on his hips in exaggerated disappointment. "Tsk tsk... very unimpressed."

Before Yozora could react, the figure struck again. The impact was brutal, but this time, before Yozora could even hit the ground, the figure caught him, his face pressed into the palm of the enemy’s hand. The grip was ironclad, unyielding, lifting him like a paper. The figure leaned in close, speaking in a calm, almost sadistic tone.

"Don’t worry," he whispered. "Your little augmenter friend? He’s out cold. My team’s got him. So, it’s just you and me now. And here’s the fun part—I’ve been tasked with obliterating everyone here... except you two. But they didn’t say I couldn’t have a little fun first."

The figure’s grip tightened, his smile widening in wicked delight. "So, here’s the deal. I’m going to kill everyone around you, one by one, and you’ll get to watch. And while you’re watching, I’ll make sure you suffer. So, knuckle up, Mr. Legend. This is going to be a blast."

Yozora’s heart sank as he realized the full extent of the nightmare he had been dragged into.