“What are you doing? Why are you showing them to everyone?” Stefan asked, anxiety threatening to break through.

  “I just toldeth thee. It'll changeth thy intellect. Just gaze. At which hour thee seeth t, you'll wisheth thee swung thy rapier at me earli'r.”

  Stefan’s eyes drifted to one of the screens, where one guard entered the kamera’s view, holding a sack in his hand. He turned so that the right side of the body faced the kamera while his left side was towards the wall where the Yeupisians were lined up.

  “Mine own followers! What I am about to showeth thee and Mr Laine is what one gets at which hour those gents showeth disrespect to our most wondrous nation.” The Shogun’s voice boomed, transmitted to loudspeakers around the arena via a microphone inside his helmet. That same voice echoed between the four walls of the cell.

  “Something’s in the bag…” Ivan knew without needing a translation. His hand drew closer to a particular floorboard next to him, making sure to be as discrete as possible.

  The guard flipped the bag over, spilling its contents over the floor. At first glance, one might have assumed it to be a fruit like a pumpkin, or a plaything like a ball. But it was quickly evident by the appearance of swollen eyes, punctured lips, and a scalp of long black hair that this was the decapitated head of a man—a man who endured much in his final hours.

  Anwen’s pupils constricted with horror and agony both at once as she recognized whose features she was glaring at.

  “Genichi…san? Genichi-san! No, Genichi-san! You monster, how could?!” she cried while holding back a regurgitation of bile. Some prisoners gasped, others wailed in horror, a few succumbed to the instinct of hurling up as many do when their minds cannot cope with what they have experienced. Manisha used her head to block the terrified Ilias’ view of the horrific sight, but he had already seen a glimpse of it before she hid it from him.

  Stefan’s arm trembled as his grip remained firm on his blade, hanging at his side.

  “Murderer…” he muttered as he avoided eye contact with the Shogun. “You murdered the man who brought us to you. A man who only showed us kindness when he didn’t have to. You’re going to pay for what you did to him, as well as what you owe us.”

  Do you feel the shaking in your arm? That is the Titanian blood in you finally remembering what it is. Your body knows what it is and is itching to answer the call. Why does your mind waver, my boy? You know exactly what to do.

  “Didst viewing yond man's headeth not spark aught within thee? Doth t not need to maketh thee chargeth at me with all thy strength?” the Shogun spoke without an ounce of remorse, instead priding in his ability to instigate a battle. “Thee consid'r that gent a kind sir, but what wouldst that gent bethink if thee didst not square to honour his mem'ry? Mine own Detection knows thy fell. Cometh at me and releaseth yond wrath!”

  “Stefan, just do it! Fucking do it, you asshole!” a voice coming from the speakers. It came from Ivan, whose voice shook with despair as he stared directly into the kamera. It prompted several guards to point their rifles at him.

  Stefan said nothing as he opened his arms once again, inviting the Shogun to take another swing at him with no defense.

  “St-Stefan, I know you don’t want to do it, but please! Just make a scratch, a little slice!” Anwen yelled as tears ran down her face. “Do it for us! Do it for the people back home! A-Are you going to let Genichi-san’s death be for nothing? You have strength. Please, just use it!”

  “Strength?” Stefan whispered as he stared at his empty hand, his mind struggling to keep its composure as different angles wanted control over it.

  “I has't a query f'r mine own friends in yond cubiculo. Answ'r t in earnest,” Daisuke lifted his head, addressing the prisoners. “The query is easy. Which one of thee loves Mr Laine, and can verily sayeth yond that gent loves those folk backeth? Answ'r t plainly and simply.”

  There wasn’t a moment between the end of Daisuke’s final sentence and an answer being made on behalf of the prisoners, as one threw themselves forward on to their knees, their bound hands pressed against one another like they were begging.

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  “I… love him,” Anwen spoke with a sniffly voice, her weeping given no chance to cease. “And he loves me too. Is that what you want, Your Excellency? Will my answer stop all this madness?”

  “A-Anwen?” Stefan’s head whipped up, his gaze fixing on the kneeling girl on the ground. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t have to say—

  Before he could finish his sentence, two guards grabbed the girl from under her arms, pulling her to another wall of room. Another had procured a rope and tied one end to a hook on the wall, while another fastened the other to her bound wrists.

  “Let go of me! Hanase!” the girl managed to cry, before a cloth was stuffed into her mouth. Her palms faced outwards as she dangled high from the hook by the wrists, while her legs were loose. Without any warning or indication, a blunt object smashed into the side of her body, followed immediately by a similar blow to the other side of her body. She tried to scream but the gag in her mouth prevented it from being heard by anyone further away.

  “Get your dirty fucking hands away from her, you piece of shit!” Ivan roared, attempting to lunge forward, but was driven back by a shove of rifle’s barrel. “Stefan, wake your ass up!”

  “Fella, this ain’t the time to try to be nice!” Rohan beckoned to Stefan, even though he had no combat training of his own.

  Anwen’s torso was being pelted by batons, each sending an extraordinary pain throughout her being. Her arms were numb, and she thought she might’ve broken a few bones. Not a soul could try to intervene, lest they wished to get a bullet in the head. She screamed and screamed into the gag, even while she could barely keep her eyes open.

  But she would not give up. Stefan’s struggle was now hers as well. Gathering an ounce of her waning strength, she swung her artificial leg backwards. The mechanical joints within it gave powerful momentum to kick out forwards. The knife installed in the foot tore through the tabi sock cladding it. Before any guard understood what was happening, the knife slashed across the abdomen of one guard, piercing his armor diagonally and penetrated his skin. Blood and guts leaked out of his body, which sprayed the girl as he staggered forward in a useless attempt to hit Anwen again, before he fell to the ground, dead.

  An angered colleague grabbed Anwen’s foot. While another guard held her thrashing body, he used his strength to tear Anwen’s leg off of its stump. Due to the Concentrated Initiation she had gone through, the pain was as if a mighty force had torn off a limb of flesh and bone. The pain was excruciating, like nothing she had ever experienced in her life.

  As the agony throbbed and expanded from her stump and her vision blurred, she saw herself somewhere else. She was in another building, one where a family resided. As she lay on the floor, she glanced downwards. Blood was everywhere, making the side of her body touching the floor damp with it. Where her left leg was supposed to be was a mass of bloody flesh, the limb having been hacked off just below the hip. Scattered all around her were the dismembered remains of four adults, whose blood and viscera covered every single wall and surface. As consciousness faded away, Anwen realized that what she was seeing was a memory, long lost from her mind, returning to her with zero context.

  At that point, the anger in Stefan’s body had started to win the war against his desire for a peaceful resolution. Raw anger and rage coursed through his body, a state of volatile Reserve in his body going haywire inside his body. He hadn’t felt anything like this since the Battle for Depot-011, but the rationale was different. The former bout of combat had been for his nation and allies, but this primal fury was born out of a care for someone who meant something to him no one else did. It went beyond familial affinity and friendship.

  “There we go. Now I see a desire to fight. Ah, it's so lovely seeing the Shinpitekenaishi energy rolling off of your body! I-- nay, mine own humans has't waited to seeth this f'r so many centuries, and anon we can seeth t! Why don't we raise the stakes a little more, Mr Laine? I still sense an inkling of hesitation within you,” Daisuke’s body shook as he gave a dark, sickening laugh, before he switched to Shimajimese. “Aim your pistol at her head. If there’s any hesitation in Laine-san’s body, pull that trigger.”

  The guard did as he was ordered to, much to everyone’s horror. Pleads, prayers, and even insults spewed out of just about all the prisoner’s mouth in Stefan’s direction, knowing that not only was he the sole person who could launch the overthrow of the Shogun’s regime, but the only one who could save the girl’s life as well.

  Stefan took slow steps forward, as the pacifist within him fought hard to take back control. His feet seemed to shake the field, his eyes obscured by shadow.

  Fight harder, Grandson! Your true power is winning. Drive the weakness back! Drive it so far back that only your strength prevails! Push the weakness so far back that it has to crawl to try and return! You’re doing it, child!

  And then, a shot rang out, broadcast by the television loudspeakers. The sudden noise caused Stefan to stop in his tracks. His heart seemed to stop for a moment. Fear, not altruism, pushed the rage out of his veins as he slowly glanced upwards at a TV screen. The kamera was pointed at the floor, showing the motionless body of a feminine figure clad in a kimono laying face down, blood beginning to pool around her.

  But Anwen’s lower body was still in the frame, still suspended in the air off-screen by the rope around her wrists. The person who was laying dead below her was someone else.