To his right stretched an ocean of fine, clear glass reflecting the beautiful blue sky above. To his left, the exact same thing, a perfect mirror image extending beyond what human eyes could see. The air felt neither warm nor cold, instead carrying a strange weightlessness that made his skin tingle. But in front of him stood a being of myth. An angel. His brilliant light cascading from behind his silhouette in the form of two magnificent wings.

  “What the hell is going on…?” Akuma thought aloud, the shock evident by his expression.

  “Hello again, Akuma. My name is Michael Kamui. It's so nice to see you.” The angel greeted, his expression absolutely delighted.

  “What? Wait… an angel? Did I… die?”

  A memory flashed through his mind. The cold pressure of metal against his head, the deafening crack of a gunshot, then… nothing.

  “Yes, you did. Tragically so. You were shot and killed during an alley fight.”

  The angel—Michael—wiped a tear from his eye as he continued.

  “It pains me to say this, but you'll have to make a choice between the void and reinca–”

  “Hold on…” Akuma interrupted, his eyes widened with a mix of confusion and shock. “Go back a second. What did you just say to me?”

  The angel stood in awkward silence for a moment.

  “Um… You were killed during an alley fight?”

  “No. What's the first thing you said to me when I got here.”

  “Hello again, Akuma. My name is–?”

  “Yes. That… What do you mean 'again'? We've never met before. Wait, don't tell me you're the angel that wanted Donte to kill me?!”

  Akuma raised his guard.

  “What do you want with me? HUH?!”

  Michael was rendered speechless as he stood in awkward silence. Then a practiced chuckle escaped him.

  “Oh my God. Out of all our first meetings, this one has to be the funniest one. I think this is the first time you've tried to fight me.”

  Akuma's eyes narrowed.

  “You speak as if we've met more than once. I think I'd remember dying before–”

  “No. You wouldn't…”

  “Huh?”

  “Seven trillion eight hundred and four billion five hundred and twenty-nine million three hundred and eleven thousand six hundred and seven goddamn times!! …That's how many times we've met for the first time.”

  He started laughing deliriously, pressing his palms against his face.

  “And yet, not once, have you ever remembered! Even now, you don’t have the faintest idea just how many times you’ve died. Or met me. In fact, you'll forget this too. You'll forget about me and how many times I've had to restart! …And it's all that wretched Hakari's fault. He just refuses to leave your memories alone.”

  Akuma's expression flickered with something between bewilderment and raw distress. What in the absolute hell was this guy even talking about? Then there was that name. For a fleeting second, the name “Hakari” stirred something deep within his consciousness. A half-remembered dream, perhaps, or the ghost of a forgotten memory.

  “Sorry, I lost my composure a bit there…” Michael said, his expression suddenly bright once again. “I suppose you must’ve caught me on a bad day. You have my word that I'll act far more cordial during our next meeting.”

  “What… are you talking about?!”

  “Look, it's not that I don't want to explain it to you. Trust me, I want nothing more than for you to remember who you are. But there really is no point. Unless Hakari breaks all those seals, you won't remember a single conversation with me. And even then, who knows if I’ll have to restart again… It'll be like you never even died.”

  Akuma's confusion only grew.

  “J-Just tell me one thing. Are you the angel that sent Donte after me? The one who told him to kill God?!”

  Michael sighed. He knew that there was no point in answering—seeing as Akuma would just forget—but he didn't want to just ignore his concerns.

  “Look… Akuma. It really doesn't make sense for me to explain anything. You'll die again soon enough and we'll meet again soon enough.”

  “Just answer the damn question!”

  Michael sighed once more—though this one was far heavier.

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  "Here you with that hero complex again..."

  "What?"

  "No angel came to him. Likely, he’s just interpreting his own wishes as divine messages. It’s more common than you’d think… In the first place, I highly doubt any angel would ask someone to kill God… After all, most of the angels have already forgotten him.”

  “Forgotten him…? What do you–?”

  “I think that's enough questions, Akuma. I already know you're dying to defeat the one who killed you, so you’ll refuse reincarnation or the void. So I'll revive you... Oh and by the way. I'd advise you to hurry up. I'm afraid if the fight goes on any longer, he'll appear. Ugh, why am I even bothering. I already know you won't remember.”

  Snap!

  A brilliant light engulfed the boy’s lifeless body momentarily. Then, a sudden jolt—like electricity coursing through his veins—slammed him back into consciousness.

  His lungs burned as he gasped for air, each breath tasting of iron and asphalt. The concrete beneath his fingertips felt rough and warm, slick with something wet. Blood. His blood? The memory of the gunshot juggled in his mind, yet he felt no pain, no wound. Only disorientation, as if he’d just woken up from a realistic dream.

  (Something feels wrong…) He thought, the conversation with Michael already slipping away from him. (I was just... somewhere else. Talking to someone important… Right?)

  He blinked hard, trying to orient himself. The alley. Yes, he was in the alley where he'd confronted Donte. But how much time had passed? And why did he feel this strange sense of déjà vu?

  Donte stood at the entrance of the alley, basking in the radiant sun with his arms spread out.

  “I've done it. I've killed God!”

  “Y'know, I appreciate you calling me that, but it's starting to get weird. When I say it, I mean it in an awesome hero way. You're just saying it to say it.”

  Donte's gaze slowly drifted behind him. There he saw a boy who should've been dead, standing without so much as a scratch.

  Donte's eyes narrowed, his arms falling back to his sides.

  “How are you even alive right now? You were dead just a moment ago.”

  (I was dead…? What's this guy talking about? That’s it, he’s officially lost it… Then again, I don't remember what happened after the gun shot. Though, knowing my badass skills, I bet it just bounced right off.)

  For a moment, a voice in the back of Akuma's mind whispered that there was more to it—something about an angel named Michael and his countless deaths—but the thought dissipated like morning fog.

  “About that…” Akuma went, writing off the incident. “People often say the best heroes are the ones who can do the impossible.”

  “People often say, huh?”

  Donte snickered.

  “That's a funny way to say it. It almost sounds like you're just spouting off what someone else told you.”

  “What?” Akuma questioned, his bright expression dropping immediately.

  “I'm saying that I can see past your fake ass mask. Be honest with me… You don't really know what a hero is yourself, do you? Man you're so damn easy to read.”

  Akuma stayed quiet, though his expression hadn't changed. Then, in the middle of Donte's laughter, he finally spoke.

  “And what about you. This entire time you've been spouting nonsense about getting revenge on God. About how some angel told you to kill him. But I know that's all a lie.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don't actually want revenge on God. I mean if you did, you wouldn't be here taking that anger out on me. After all, as much as I call myself one, I'm just a human. I think we both know that… That could only mean one thing… The feeling in your heart isn't vengeance. It's jealousy. You don't just want to kill him, you want to become God. If I had to guess, you want the power to make everyone experience the same pain your mother went through.”

  This time, Donte was rendered speechless. For the first time since this all started, he dropped the calm, collected act. His expression darkened causing him to look awfully similar to how he did a week ago.

  “There it is. That's the guy I remember.” Akuma taunted. “Man, I can't wait till Jacob sees what his old friend has become.”

  Donte clicked his tongue.

  “Can you shut up about him already? He's not coming.”

  “What?”

  “You were unconscious for the last ten minutes. Meaning it's been at least twenty minutes since I called him and threatened your life.”

  Akuma's eyes shook.

  “Let me guess, you played hero again and brought him closer with those kids from middle school. Sorry to say, but he's all but forgotten you now. That's just how people work–”

  “SHUT YOUR MOUTH! …He wouldn't. I know him. He wouldn't do that. I wasn't there to see it, but I know he's grateful for all the hard work I put in to help him.”

  “Of course he's grateful, idiot. But that's just now how people work. I imagine before, he could feel at peace knowing you were also as lonely as he was. But now, you too share nothing in common. Now, he gains nothing from being with you. After all, people only do things that benefit themselves. Even you only save people because their smiles bring you some kind of comfort… It's the same reason my mother took her own life, leaving me behind.”

  Akuma stared at Donte with a newfound feeling. Something about hearing that, reminded him of the woman from his past.

  “She was bedridden. So I visited her everyday… At the beginning it always brought a smile to her face. I could see the joy in her eyes whenever I'd visit. Apparently, she threatened the doctor of taking her own life. But after my visit, she changed her mind. So, I kept doing it… But eventually, she got tired of it. She started caring less and less. Until eventually, she took her own life.”

  Akuma thought back on himself and his own past. At least, the chunks of it that he could remember. An older woman spewing blood, his arm drilled through her chest, and strangely, a newborn child crying. The memory felt both alien and intimately familiar, like he was experiencing someone else’s life.

  “Donte…” He murmured, almost wanting to call out to him. “Was I wrong this whole time? …Is it possible… you’re the one that needs saving?”

  But as he blinked, he was met with a horrific sight.

  Donte's temple had been run through by an arm, extending out to the other side of his head. He died instantly, his saddened expression not even changing. The arm belonged to an angelic child, floating gracefully with a grimaced expression. He had pure white hair long enough to cover his crimson eyes beneath. As well as a metal shackle strapped across his left wrist.

  Akuma's stomach lurched violently. His lungs halted, refusing to draw breath as the scene before him burned itself into his retinas. The sound of Donte's skull cracking echoed in his ears, followed by the wet, sickening squelch of his brain matter being scooped out. A metallic scent filled the air—the unmistakable smell that covered him when he regained consciousness.

  (That shackle... those eyes... those wings… I've seen them before…)

  “Hakari…”

  The name escaped him so silently that he himself hadn’t even realized he said it. Yet he was filled with an equal sense of terror and familiarity.

  In a dramatic motion, the angelic child pulled his arm out of Donte's head, scooping out pieces of his brain as he did. Gray matter and crimson fluid sprayed across the alley walls, some of it splattering across Akuma's face. He felt the warm droplets slide down his cheek, but remained paralyzed with shock.

  Donte's body collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the hole in his head. Through it all, Akuma had the same widened eyed expression.

  In that moment, the angelic child pointed at Akuma's hands.

  He shifted his gaze, lifting his palms to inspect them. They were drenched in blood. When he shifted his gaze back up, the angelic child had disappeared but even stranger, Akuma found himself standing above Donte's body as if space itself had squeezed in.

  In the next moment, a loud siren could be heard. Between their clashing and Donte's gunshot, someone had called the police. Which is why he was now caught in a tensioned stare with a cop, his arms drenched in a dead man's blood.