Grease popped on the grill, sending a sharp hiss into the humid air of the diner. Ryujin tapped his fingers against the plastic cash register, staring blankly at the scratched counter. Another slow Tuesday in a city that felt like it was constantly waiting to blow itself up.
Boredom was a physical weight, pressing down on his shoulders while he waited for his shift to end. He didn't care about the minimum wage pay, nor did he care about the greasy apron tied around his waist. It was just a mask, a flimsy disguise to keep the world from looking too closely at the man who had lived too many lifetimes.
Outside, the neon signs of the downtown district flickered against a gray, smog-choked sky. Sirens wailed in the distance, a constant background noise that everyone in New Kyoto had learned to ignore. Superheroes and villains clashed weekly, treating the metropolis like their personal playground.
"That'll be eight fifty," Ryujin muttered, not bothering to look up as he handed a greasy bag of takeout to a tired-looking salaryman.
Before the man could even grab his wallet, a deafening roar shook the foundation of the building. Windows rattled in their frames, sending a vibration straight through the soles of Ryujin's worn sneakers. Customers froze, their forks hovering halfway to their mouths.
Screams erupted from the street outside, high-pitched and frantic. A second blast followed, much closer this time, accompanied by the distinct screech of tearing metal. Everyone in the diner scrambled, throwing themselves under booths and tables in a desperate bid for survival.
Ryujin sighed, leaning his palms flat against the counter. He didn't move, even as the ceiling tiles began to rain dust onto his dark hair. Panic was a human emotion, a luxury for those who actually had something to lose.
Suddenly, the entire front wall of the restaurant disintegrated. Bricks and mortar pulverized into a choking cloud of red dust, propelled by a force so massive it shattered the remaining glass into a million glittering teeth.
Tumbling through the newly formed gap came a figure clad in high-tech, silver armor. It was a rookie hero—some kid calling themselves a Kyo-hello user, relying on external power suits to simulate divinity. Blood painted the sleek metallic plates of his chest, steaming slightly in the cool air.
Heavy, thudding footsteps followed the falling hero. A massive shadow loomed in the dust cloud, revealing a towering entity clad in iron-like hide. This was a Grave-Beast, a creature of pure destruction, its body pulsing with a sickening, chaotic energy.
"Help..." the rookie croaked, his voice synthesized through a damaged vocal modulator. He tried to scramble backward, but his limbs were trembling violently under the weight of his failing armor.
Ryujin's eyes narrowed as his vision automatically shifted, bypassing the physical world. He didn't want to see it, but he couldn't stop the curse of his sight. The silver armor faded into a translucent haze, revealing a terrified teenager underneath, completely naked beneath the suit's interface, skin pale and glistening with sweat.
Worse was the beast. Its iron hide dissolved under Ryujin's gaze, exposing a grotesque network of black veins pumping jagged, glowing energy flows. It was a chaotic mess of raw power, swirling like a localized storm inside a ribcage made of jagged bone.
Without warning, the Grave-Beast lunged forward, grabbing the rookie by his helmeted head. With a savage roar, the monster threw the boy upward, smashing him through the ceiling and into the upper floors of the building. The beast followed, leaping with enough force to shatter the concrete floor beneath them.
Debris rained down on the screaming survivors. Ryujin knew the building was about to collapse, and he had no intention of being buried under tons of concrete just to keep up his civilian disguise. He vaulted over the cash register, his movements fluid and entirely too fast for a normal human.
Stepping out into the chaotic street, he found a scene straight out of a nightmare. Cars were overturned, burning with green and orange flames, while civilians fled in every direction. Above him, the high-rise battle raged on, the rookie hero and the Grave-Beast crashing through concrete walls as they ascended toward the clouds.
"Great, there goes my security deposit," Ryujin muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began to walk away from the epicenter of the destruction. He didn't want to get involved; heroes were supposed to handle this, even if their "triumphs" always left the city looking like a war zone.
A sudden shadow fell over him. He looked up just in time to see a massive steel girder, sheared off from a collapsing skyscraper, spinning through the air like a giant guillotine. Before he could even blink, the razor-sharp edge of the steel slammed into his neck.
Darkness claimed him for a fraction of a second. The impact tore his head completely off his shoulders, sending his skull spinning into a nearby alley while his body collapsed onto the asphalt, blood spurting in a grotesque fountain.
Regenerating was a violent, unpleasant process. Inside the dark alley, his severed head didn't decay; instead, thick, red tendrils of muscle and bone erupted from the base of his neck, reaching out like hungry roots. Simultaneously, his headless torso dragged itself toward the alley, driven by an instinctual, magnetic pull.
Flesh knit together with wet, sickening snaps. Skin crawled back over raw muscle, sealing the horrific wound until not even a scar remained. Ryujin sat up, rubbing his neck and letting out a long, irritated groan.
"Every single time," he growled, standing up and brushing the dirt off his ruined uniform. His favorite shirt was soaked in blood, and the collar was completely torn. This was the third job he had lost this month, all because some oversized lizard decided to have a tantrum in downtown.
Anger, cold and sharp, replaced his usual apathy. He looked up at the high-rise skyscraper where the battle had moved. The top ten floors were a blazing inferno, and the rookie Kyo-hello user was currently dangling over the edge of the roof by the Grave-Beast.
Using his unique sight once more, Ryujin focused on the rooftop. He could see the teenager's rapid, shallow heartbeat, a frantic pulsing of red light in his chest. The boy's muscles were locked in sheer terror, his bladder nearly failing as he stared down at the dizzying drop.
Beside him, the beast's internal energy was peaking, a dark purple mass of destructive power gathering in its throat, preparing to incinerate the hero and the entire block below.
"Fine," Ryujin muttered, crouching low to the ground. "If I don't stop this, I'll never get a quiet night's sleep."
Cracks spiderwebbed through the asphalt as he leaped. The sheer force of his jump propelled him upward like a missile, bypassing the shattered windows of the skyscraper in a blur of motion. Wind roared in his ears, ripping the remaining pieces of his ruined apron away.
Landings were never graceful when you were in a hurry. He crashed onto the rooftop, his boots shattering the concrete tiles and sending a shockwave that actually made the massive Grave-Beast stumble.
Both the monster and the rookie hero froze, turning their attention to the newcomer. The rookie, whose helmet had been partially torn away to reveal a bloodied, tear-streaked face, stared at Ryujin in absolute bewilderment.
"Who... who are you?" the kid gasped, his body trembling violently. Through Ryujin's transparent vision, the boy's internal organs were practically glowing with adrenaline and raw panic. He was completely exposed, a fragile human child playing at being a god.
Ryujin ignored him, walking slowly toward the towering monster. The Grave-Beast dropped the rookie, letting him slump to the concrete, and turned its full, malevolent attention toward the intruder. It let out a guttural roar that rattled Ryujin's teeth, its iron hide shifting as the black veins beneath pulsed with lethal energy.
"You're loud," Ryujin said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy quiet. He clenched his fists, the knuckles popping in rapid succession. A vein throbbed at his temple, the only outward sign of the boiling irritation beneath his calm exterior.
Mocking his silence, the beast lunged, its massive iron claw slashing downward with enough speed to break the sound barrier. Ryujin didn't flinch. He simply stepped to the side, the claw missing his face by a mere millimeter, the wind pressure tearing a small cut on his cheek that healed instantly.
Seeing the monster's open stance, Ryujin focused his gaze on the swirling vortex of energy inside its chest. It was a chaotic mess, but there was a single, central point where all the veins converged—a core of pure, condensed malice.
Drawing back his right fist, he channeled his immortal strength, his muscles tightening like coiled steel springs. He didn't need flashy energy blasts or a high-tech suit. He just needed to hit hard enough to shatter reality.
---
Years of endless conflict had taught Ryujin that power was a cheap commodity in this world. Everyone wanted to be a savior, yet nobody wanted to clean up the mess. He watched the monster's heavy breathing, noting how the grotesque energy flows inside its ribcage flared with every desperate gasp.
"Please... get out of here..." the rookie hero whimpered from the floor, trying to crawl toward the edge of the roof. His transparent form showed a cracked collarbone and internal bleeding around his liver, a slow, dark pool of fluid expanding within his abdominal cavity.
"Shut up and watch," Ryujin countered, his eyes locked on the beast. He felt no sympathy for the kid, only a profound annoyance at the system that allowed children to put on suits and die for the entertainment of a broken society.
Rage erupted from the Grave-Beast as it realized its attack had missed. It spun around, its iron tail whipping through the air with a deafening crack, aiming to slice Ryujin in half.
Leaping over the tail, Ryujin closed the distance in a heartbeat. He could see every muscle fiber in the monster's leg contracting, every surge of dark energy traveling up its spine to fuel its next strike. It was slow. Painfully slow.
To an immortal who had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, this catastrophic threat was nothing more than an oversized pest. He had fought warlords who could split oceans, and gods who breathed fire. This metal-plated beast was just another Tuesday.
Still, the loneliness of his existence crept in even during the heat of battle. Nobody here knew him. Nobody would remember him. He was a ghost walking among mortals, destined to watch them burn themselves out while he remained, unchanged and unyielding.
"Time to go to sleep," Ryujin whispered, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind.
His fist connected with the monster's chest. The impact was silent for a fraction of a second, a quiet gathering of kinetic energy before the inevitable explosion. Then, a shockwave erupted from the point of contact, blowing away the surrounding smoke and shattering the remaining glass of every building within a three-block radius.
Iron-like hide buckled instantly under the pressure. Under Ryujin's transparent gaze, the glowing core of dark energy shattered like cheap glass, its chaotic flows dispersing into nothingness. The monster's eyes rolled back, its massive form folding in on itself as the sheer force of the blow propelled it backward through the air.
It crashed through the edge of the rooftop, falling down toward the desolate street below like a broken meteor. The rookie hero stared at the empty space where the monster had just been, his jaw slack, his heart rate spiking in absolute disbelief. He had never seen anyone wield such terrifying, effortless power.
As Ryujin dispatches the Grave-Beast with a single, brutal punch, he hears a child's desperate cry from a collapsed building, a sound that, impossibly, seems to pierce his immortal apathy.