seraph of the end: I am Raiden

Raiden's Perspective

The silence was unbearable. Raiden blinked, staring at the flickering light of a candle on the table. His body felt foreign, heavy, as though it wasn't entirely his own. The events leading up to this moment swirled in his mind like a storm. Ferid's sadistic smile, the sharp pain tearing through his arm, the blood spilling as he shielded Akane. And then, the crushing realization that he had failed to stay with them.

His left arm was gone. He had felt its absence in the dream, but waking up to the stark reality of his body broken and altered was a different kind of torment. He touched the empty sleeve with his remaining hand, the frayed edge brushing against his fingers, but the phantom ache lingered like a cruel reminder.

Raiden turned his gaze to the window. The world outside was deceptively peaceful, the moon casting its pale light over the spires of the vampire city. He couldn't shake the rage that simmered beneath his skin—the hatred for Ferid, the guilt for not being able to protect everyone.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Enter," he said, his voice hoarse.

The door creaked open, and Krul Tepes stepped inside. Her crimson eyes regarded him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, though there was something softer beneath the surface.

"You're awake," she said simply.

Raiden didn't answer immediately. He met her gaze, defiance burning in his own. "Why am I still alive?"

Krul smirked, walking closer. "Because I chose for you to be. You intrigued me, Raiden Hyakuya. Few humans have the resolve to stand against Ferid, let alone survive."

Her words stung, and Raiden's jaw tightened. "You think I should thank you? For turning me into... this?"

"You should thank me for saving you from death," Krul retorted, her tone light but with an edge of authority. "What you do with this new existence is your choice. But let me be clear—you're no longer human. You belong to me now."

The weight of her words hit him like a blow. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be a vampire, to carry the same monstrous traits as the creatures who had stolen everything from him and the others.

Raiden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I don't belong to anyone."

Krul laughed, a melodic sound that didn't match the coldness in her expression. "We'll see how long that pride lasts."

She turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Rest, Raiden. You'll need your strength. There's a long road ahead of you."

As the door clicked shut, Raiden let out a shaky breath. The anger inside him boiled over, and with a swift motion, he slammed his fist into the wooden table beside him, splintering it into pieces. The shards scattered across the floor, but the release did nothing to calm the storm within him.

Yū's Perspective

Yū's stomach growled, but he ignored it. Hunger had become a constant companion since their escape. It gnawed at him, hollowing him out from the inside, but he didn't care. He sat in the corner of the room, his knees pulled to his chest, staring at the wall.

The others were asleep, their breaths shallow and uneven in the cramped space they had found for shelter. Akane had tried to talk to him earlier, her voice gentle, but he hadn't answered. He couldn't bring himself to.

Raiden's absence loomed over him like a shadow. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of that moment—Raiden's broken body, his blood staining the ground, his voice urging them to run. It played over and over in his mind, a cruel loop that wouldn't let him rest.

Yū bit his lip until he tasted blood. He had always been stubborn, always believed he could fight against anything the world threw at him. But now, for the first time, he felt powerless.

"Yū," Akane's voice broke through the silence, soft but firm.

He didn't look at her.

"Yū," she said again, her hand resting on his shoulder. "We can't fall apart now. The others need us."

Her words were rational, but they felt empty. Yū turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. The pain in her expression mirrored his own, but there was something else there—determination.

"He wouldn't want us to give up," she continued, her voice trembling. "Raiden... he gave everything so we could escape. We owe it to him to survive."

Yū wanted to scream, to tell her that surviving felt meaningless without Raiden. But he swallowed the words, burying them deep inside. Instead, he nodded, though the movement felt heavy.

Mika's Perspective

Mika sat on the edge of the dilapidated bed, sharpening the blade he had managed to steal during their escape. The rhythmic sound of the whetstone against the metal was the only thing grounding him, keeping him from spiralling into the same despair that threatened to consume the others.

Raiden was gone. The thought burned in his chest like a brand.

He had always admired Raiden—not just for his strength, but for his unwavering resolve. Raiden had been the one to lead them, to protect them, to keep hope alive even in the darkest moments. And now, without him, Mika felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on him.

He glanced over at Akane and Yū. They were trying to stay strong, but he could see the cracks forming. The children, too, were struggling. Their wide eyes and trembling hands betrayed the fear they tried to hide.

Mika gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the blade. He wouldn't let them fall apart. Not now. Not after everything they had been through.

"We'll get through this," he muttered under his breath, his resolve hardening. "For Raiden."

As the night stretched on, Mika kept watch, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. But in the quiet moments, when the world seemed still, he couldn't help but wonder: was Raiden truly gone? Or was there still a chance, however small, that they might see him again?

The uncertainty was a cruel thing, but it was all they had left.