86--EIGHTY-SIX

Chapter Vol. 1 Ch. 6

Raiden was introduced to the God of Death six months after he was drafted, the day after the last of his friends died, all of whom were thrown into different units.

Before the army, Raiden hid in 85 districts.

He was hidden by an elderly woman from Alb, the director of a private boarding school.

Disciples and children from the neighborhood, all of the "eighty-six." She hid them in school dorms, as many as she could.

In the fifth year, someone denounced them, and a military convoy appeared on the doorstep. The Headmaster did not give up and tried to call the soldiers for mercy and justice, but her words were met with laughter.

The children were herded into the cattle truck, and as soon as they started, the woman ran after them, shouting curses into the empty faces of the soldiers.

She never swore at me. Raiden and the others often wanted to say this or that word, even if it was a joke, but the Headmaster was furious about it. Always stern and dignified, she was now running and shouting foul curses.

Her face was contorted with anger and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Burn in hell, you scum!"

He remembered that last scream, and how she finally stopped herself and burst into tears, unable to contain herself any longer.

The new commander, nicknamed "God of Death," turned out to be his age. He was too careless and unpredictable, something Raiden wasn't used to.

They didn't conduct any patrols at all: Shin was combing the ruins completely blindly and suddenly gave the order to attack, despite the silent radars. Of course, it all looked strange, and Raiden considered such unpreparedness to be a real suicide.

He was starting to lose patience.

All the friends with whom he went to the front died, but fought to the end. That old woman knew she was going to be shot, and yet she desperately tried to protect them.

And now this one. He didn't seem to care if anyone died, or even if he died.

Raiden's patience came to an end six months after being transferred to a new squadron, during an argument over another cancellation of the patrol.

Considering the difference in physique, he didn't strike with full force, but little Shin was surprisingly strong even then. "Stop talking nonsense!" barked Raiden to the commander crouching on the dusty ground, but the commander only stared at him with his red eyes.

— ... Of course, it's my fault that I didn't explain anything...

Spitting out the blood, Shin stood up. Strangely enough, his movements remained steady, as if the blow had never happened.

"It's just that no one believes it until they hear it themselves. I don't want to waste my time.

Silent night. At least for Raiden.

But for Shin... It must be filled with screaming and crying, as it always does, because the voices of the ghosts never stop.

It is impossible to hear this all the time and not lose your emotions. The suppression and destruction of the senses made the God of death what he is—indifferent to everything and never losing his temper.

The god of death stared at Raiden. Red eyes. Blood-colored pupils froze everything the eye fell on.

Raiden knew that Shin wasn't here right now—he hadn't been here since his soul had been stolen by someone who was now wandering far into the enemy's camp.

"I'm already asleep. If you want to talk about something, let's do it tomorrow.

— ... Aa. Forgive me.

The rickety door closed with difficulty, and footsteps followed into the next room, and then the iron bed creaked. Shin was still standing in front of the window in the moonlight, staring at the battlefield motionlessly.

If you listened closely, you could hear the voices of ghosts that filled the darkness of the night all the way to the horizon and resembled the ringing of the stars.

Moans, screams, crying, screams and indistinguishable words of machines. His consciousness passed through them and went to a voice that was still far away.

It had been 8 years since he had last heard that voice from a man's mouth.

He kept repeating the same words.

Every night they evoked memories. That voice didn't let me forget.

An overhanging shadow.

The force of compression and the gravity that will cause him to shatter into a thousand pieces and lose his life.

Right in front of his face are glasses, and behind them are black eyes glowing with hatred.

Short of breath and the ear-plugging scream of his older brother.

«SIN*. Your name. Wow, how it fits. It's your fault. It's all because of you."

The same voice was now calling to him somewhere far away. He had heard this call ever since he died in the ruins of the Eastern Front 5 years ago.

Touching the cool glass with his hand, he muttered, knowing that no one would hear him:

"I'll be back soon, brother."