THE SPACE REQUIEM PART ONE : GENESIS

Tristan crashed into the room, causing Mark and his soldiers to freeze in shock. "What do you think you're doing?" shouted Mark, his voice filled with fury and confusion. All his soldiers aimed their weapons at Tristan, ready to fire.

"Just give me the kid, Mark, and I'll let you leave alive!" Tristan yelled, aiming his gun directly at Mark.

"I don't understand, you did your job for me. Why are you doing this?" Mark's voice wavered, a mix of fear and desperation.

"Just hand him over, or I'll kill you," Tristan threatened, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"If I hand him over to you, I'm dead," Mark cried. "Just leave right now, and we can pretend this didn't happen."

Tristan stood firm, showing no signs of leaving. "Why do you have to make my life so much harder than it already is?" Mark shouted in frustration. "Fire!"

The room erupted in a barrage of blasts as the soldiers opened fire. Tristan moved swiftly, dodging the shots and jumping to the side. He ran towards the top of the room, firing back at the soldiers with precision. His movements were a blur, his training and reflexes allowing him to evade the incoming fire. One soldier went down, followed by another who panicked before meeting the same fate.

"Stop it, please!" Mark pleaded as Tristan rushed the last soldier, dodging blasts and delivering a fatal shot to the head.

"I don't understand. What did I ever do to you?" Mark backed away, his voice trembling.

"Just give me the kid," Tristan demanded again.

"I would rather die!" Mark shouted, drawing a long, curved blade from within his sleeve. He swung at Tristan, knocking the gun from his hand.

"You killed all my men, my friends!" Mark screamed, launching a series of relentless attacks at Tristan. "And for what? Some stupid kid you knew for a few days!"

Tristan dodged Mark's furious slashes, using his Martine to evade the attacks. Blood trickled from his mouth as he coughed and quickly swallowed a pill, then unsheathed his own blade. Their swords clashed, a metallic symphony of violence.

Mark's attacks grew more desperate and reckless, but Tristan remained composed. He pushed Mark back, then lunged forward with a powerful swing. Mark blocked, but it was clear he was outmatched. Tristan's blade cut a small line across Mark's cheek, drawing blood.

Mark swung wildly, but Tristan blocked every slash. They clashed again, their blades locked. Tristan knocked Mark's arm upward with a swift slash, then followed with a precise cut, severing Mark's hand. Mark screamed in agony, staggering back.

Tristan didn't relent. He slashed again, cutting off Mark's other hand. Mark fell to his knees, his screams echoing through the room.

Tristan levelled his blade at Mark, the steel glinted. "Now back down," he commanded.

Mark, reduced to a pitiful figure on the floor, turned his gaze towards the shattered window through which Tristan had burst. His voice trembled as he muttered to himself, "I could never live up to your expectations."

Tristan watched Mark grovel on the floor. Mark's eyes, though hollow, were fixed on the sky as he extended his arm—now a mere stump. "I'm sorry, Alex," he choked out.

Without warning, Mark's sorrowful apology gave way to a harrowing scream. The sky once cloudy and , began to darken, the sun was gradually consumed by an encroaching shadow. From above, the Abyss, long sealed by the Kronos brothers, began to expand with unsettling speed, its malignant presence growing ever larger.