The specter of Ethan's past stared at him in horror as his hand swept down.

The next instant, a scream of pure terror tore from its throat.

"NO! AAAAAAGH!"

POOF.

A plume of gray-black smoke burst from its right leg. At the same time, Ethan's true form completed a clean, decisive chopping motion across his own right calf. A section of flesh, shimmering with bloody red energy, separated instantly and dissolved into crimson mist.

Ethan's body jerked violently in midair, yet a savage grin split his face.

"I can't kill you," he rasped. "But I can sure as hell take you with me."

In that moment, he looked more demonic than the Heart-Devil itself. His madness was sharper, more deliberate, stripped of hesitation.

"No! You can't! You'll die too!" the specter shrieked, its voice breaking as it shifted from tormentor to desperate supplicant.

"Then I die!" Ethan roared. "Better that than letting you out to hurt the people I care about. And you know what? I should thank you."

His hand fell again.

CRUNCH.

His left leg vanished in another eruption of bloody vapor. His body pitched wildly, then steadied, suspended in the empty air as if held together by sheer will alone.

"I thank you… for showing me my true path…"

His hand swept across his left shoulder. The entire arm detached at the root and dissolved before it could fall.

The specter wailed, spewing curses and pleas in equal measure, but Ethan did not react. His voice was calm now, almost reflective, even as he dismantled himself piece by piece.

"Now I finally understand the road I walk. It's a road of slaughter, but one paved with love. I can kill the heavens, kill the earth, even kill myself. But the people beside me? No one touches them. So you're coming with me."

He raised his last remaining limb, his right arm, high above his head. A final, raw roar tore from his throat, the scene so brutally final it bordered on the unbearable.

"NOOOO!" the specter screamed, lunging forward in blind, primal fear.

Ethan's roar collapsed into two final words.

"Soul Technique… Soul Detonation!"

BOOM.

BOOM-BOOM.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

From the stumps of his legs upward, Ethan's torso erupted in a chain of violent, blood-red explosions, as if charges had been planted deep within his very essence. Each detonation tore him apart further, yet his expression never wavered.

The charging specter mirrored him perfectly, its own form bursting apart in plumes of greasy gray-black smoke.

"Past life… goodbye forever."

"This life… see you soon."

As the remnants of the specter closed to within two steps, Ethan's remaining head, his face twisted into a bitter, rueful smile, spoke a final farewell to both the ghost he had been and the man he would become.

KABOOM.

The two remaining heads, one crimson and one charcoal, shattered at the same instant.

Tendrils of blood-red energy and rivers of gray-black mist twisted together for a brief, chaotic heartbeat before dispersing into nothingness within the endless, silent world of flame.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

The fiery realm shuddered violently. The inferno dimmed, flames guttering and collapsing inward until only consuming darkness remained.

---

At the Blackfin Mercenary camp, Blackie, Micah, and Victor sat together in the central compound, feasting on freshly roasted game that glistened with savory juices.

Micah ate neatly, each bite precise and measured. Victor had an entire spit-roasted hare laid out before him but barely touched it, choosing instead to nurse a bottle of ice-cold beer. He had to give Blackfin credit. The man knew how to live. In the middle of a tropical jungle, he had somehow constructed a proper ice pit, not a modern freezer, but an old-fashioned insulated chamber packed with massive blocks of ice acquired at tremendous cost. The sheer thermal mass kept it frigid for weeks. It was Blackfin's personal treasure vault, reserved for chilled watermelon and, more importantly, beer. In this suffocating jungle heat, that first swallow of icy bitterness felt like salvation.

Blackie, however, was an experience all his own.

He ate methodically, bite by bite, yet the method was horrifying. A freshly roasted wild bird, closer in size to a small turkey, had been placed in front of him. Without hesitation, he tore off a drumstick and then shoved the rest of the bird into his mouth in one smooth motion. His jaw unhinged, his mouth stretching impossibly wide before snapping back to normal. His cheeks bulged as he chewed with evident satisfaction.

Victor and Micah did not react.

The surrounding mercenaries, on the other hand, collectively broke into cold sweats.

'What the hell is that thing? Man or beast? Does it eat people?'

Blackfin himself had been hovering nervously nearby. When Blackie began licking grease from his fingers, Blackfin stumbled backward in shock, his heel catching against Victor's leg. Victor reached out and steadied him.

"Th-thanks," Blackfin said, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Don't worry. Sit," Victor replied, gesturing beside him. "Ignore him."

Blackfin shot another fearful glance at Blackie.

"It's fine," Victor added calmly.

After a moment's hesitation, Blackfin edged over and sat down. Victor, a former special forces operator, knew the man's background well. US descent, dark name, darker reputation, but with one unbreakable line. Blackfin had abandoned contracts and paid crushing penalties rather than target people of US origin. The Mirage incident had been the lone exception, forced by sheer survival against an enemy he could not hope to overcome.

Victor had once romanticized this life. If not for meeting Ethan, he and Williams would likely still be out here. In Ethan's original timeline, that was exactly how it played out. Williams died young. Victor survived longer, but his end was no kinder. The money had been good, but every mission was a blade pressed to the throat. Now, with a wife who loved him and brothers who still breathed, those old fantasies felt empty. He was content to let them remain fantasies.

As Blackfin settled beside him, Victor struck up casual conversation. Blackfin dealt in guns and soldiers, not drugs, another mark in his favor. In the US military intelligence files, Blackfin was rated SSS-Class, flagged as a potentially alignable asset. Their exchange was polite, almost relaxed, though Victor could feel the tension coiled beneath the mercenary king's composure.

Victor was just about to raise his bottle in a conciliatory toast when a sharp, piercing scream ripped through the jungle night.

It came from the room where Ethan and Rainie were staying.

"ETHAN! What's happening?! Don't you scare me like this!"

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