The Hateful man risked only a few glances behind as he ran within the Seraphu District, knowing that someone was pursing him. He sensed the predatory blur keeping up with him, moving from side to side. It had been enough to get him to tap into his own Physical Blessing, enhancing his muscles so that he could navigate along the large warehouses that populated the District. For humans, this was where they worked, a place to earn money. Hateful didn't get those kinds of jobs. They had to resort to less-than-legal means. Means that risked pursuit from the DFA, the Divinity Federal Association.

  Of course, consisting mostly of humans, the DFA couldn't pursue him, someone who was Hateful. While humans were certainly born with Blessings of their own, they never matched those of the Hateful. Humans were only ever born with one Blessing, while the Hateful had access to all four. They needed a specialist to pursue them.

  A specialist known as the Lieutenant, the traitor of the Hateful.

  The Hateful man was certain the Lieutenant was the one pursing him, keeping up with ease, his movements sharp, precise and well-practised. No matter where the Hateful man went, no matter what he did, the Lieutenant kept up, sending a silent message as he did so.

  You cannot escape me. You cannot hide. I will capture you.

  You could try leaping from rooftop to rooftop. It didn't matter. You could weave through an intricate network of alleyways, streets, and crowded areas. That, too, didn't matter. You could even be fortunate enough to have someone working alongside you, try to split up and divide his attention. That didn't matter either. The Hateful man's mind raced as he contemplated this, launching himself high into the air, heading towards one of the warehouse rooftops, on which he landed with a great clang. He dashed away, knowing that if he looked behind again, he would be finished. At least here he could gauge the distance between them once the Lieutenant landed on the rooftops, listening for the accompanying clang.

  Yet the clang never came. This realisation brought with it a flutter of anxiety and fear.

  Did he know what I was trying? the Hateful man wondered, fighting his terror so that he didn't make any mistakes. Any error now would mean death.

  Gritting his teeth, the Hateful man leapt onto another warehouse rooftop, listening for the sound a part of him guessed wasn't coming. He jumped off the rooftop and took to the road, landing on a strip that led towards the Divinity Highway. It was his best chance for escape.

  Where are you?

  He listened, trying to decipher the Lieutenant's location. There was nothing except the rushing wind and the constant pattern of his own footsteps tapping on the metal as he moved as fast as he could.

  Keep moving! Don't look back!

  The Hateful man focused all his strength on his running, heading towards the gigantic Highway. It began with sharp arches that curved around like upside down meat hooks, balancing the flat yet thick slate of metal that possessed no sides, and that cars used every day. Like so much of Exia, it had formed itself with little human involvement. Despite their collective dislike of him, they still called places like this "Gifts from the creator himself", compensation for what had happened all those years ago.

  And that's why he hunts us, the Hateful man thought, his fear returning from the brief respite of distraction. Another minute and he would be free. The streetlights showed him the way. All he had to do was reach the Highway, jump onto a car or truck and he'd be safe. The Lieutenant couldn't catch him then. The Hateful man closed his eyes, listening, trying to decipher where the Lieutenant was.

  Then it occurred to him.

  Oh, shit, he's—

  The Hateful man made the fatal mistake of turning his body as he glanced upward. For the tiniest of moments, he found himself blinded by the brightness of the curved white streetlights, glimpsing the Lieutenant soaring beneath them. He was using his Transformative Blessing, utilising the wings of a black dragon, like the Ethero Fiends of legend, waiting to spring his trap. The Lieutenant had known what he was going to do to catch him, using the Hateful man's own fear against him. It was over; he knew that. All he saw next was the Lieutenant folding his wings before diving towards him, spiralling in the air.

  Then, the Hateful man tumbled onto the ground.

  He didn't even realise that his right leg was gone until he tried to move, looking down and seeing the bleeding stump that began to emit steam. What was strange was that it didn't panic him. His fear had vanished, replaced by the comfort that came with knowing one's fate.

  I'm already dead, the Hateful man realised, gazing at his pursuer standing behind him, bearing a giant curving blade on his right arm that was now slick with blood. For a moment, the Hateful man regarded the blood, his own blood, with deep fascination, until he looked at the Lieutenant again, seeing agitation on his face.

  'I don't understand it,' the Lieutenant said, taking a step towards him, moving with murderous intent. The Lieutenant was a powerfully built man, broad-shouldered and dressed in a black suit that seemed impeccable despite being covered with blood. Its right sleeve, torn from the giant curving silver blade, gleamed under the streetlights while also being marred by the Hateful man's blood. He wore polished dress shoes, stepping with great care to avoid any further mess. Meanwhile, his face seemed weathered by years of experience, appearing in his early 40s, his hair cut short and chestnut, as was the thick moustache that covered his upper lip. These details made the Hateful man smile. He knew what the Lieutenant was. The Hateful never forget.

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  'Is there something you find amusing?' the Lieutenant asked. By stupidity or madness, the Hateful man's smile deepened. In response, the Lieutenant's face darkened as he shook his head, taking another step towards the Hateful man while raising his blade.

  'Why don't any of you understand what I'm trying to achieve?' he asked. 'Why can't you learn to work with the humans?'

  'Because…they'll never work with us…' the Hateful man replied, coldness filling him as his teeth chattered. 'Because…they'll turn us into you…Meg…Meg—'

  He was cut off by the Lieutenant's blade pressed against his throat; trickles of blood ran down his neck as the Lieutenant bore into him.

  'Say that name,' the Lieutenant growled, daring him to continue. This only furthered the rush of madness taking over the Hateful man as he drew closer to death. His hands and fingers were growing numb, and his mind dizzy and faint.

  'I'm…de…dead,' the Hateful man replied, every word bringing him one step closer. He noticed the anger on the Lieutenant's face dissipating, changing to frustration.

  'It doesn't have to be this way,' he said, keeping his blade held against the Hateful man's throat. 'Our kind doesn't have to live this way.'

  The Hateful man chuckled at such irony, looking into the Lieutenant's cold eyes one last time before he raised his hands, clutching the inside of the Lieutenant's arm blade.

  'I'd…rather die like this…than stain my hair and pretend to be one of them…'

  The Hateful man pulled his throat into the Lieutenant's blade, jerking to the right. He fell, his body limp and lifeless, as more blood trickled towards the surface, the suicide complete. The Lieutenant, partially stunned by the action, shook his head in disbelief. He stared at the body for a couple of seconds, before rising to his feet and allowing his Transformative Blessing to fade away, his arm reverting to normal.

  'You don't understand,' he said, squeezing his fists as his body shook.

  'YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!'

  The tension faded as he relaxed. They had never understood him. Never understood why he had chosen this path. The Lieutenant glanced at his hands, knowing that they had killed so many, the price of salvation.

  'Freedom always comes with a price,' he said, repeating words he had heard long ago, coming from somewhere deep within his soul. The Lieutenant glanced at a certain warehouse that he was sure was nearby, a reminder of that very price.

  What does it mean to pursue a dream?

  The Lieutenant looked at the three towers at the centre of the city, surrounded by a great wall. He remembered what had led to this point.

  'Everything I've done, I've done for us,' he said, allowing his hands to drop by his sides. 'Even if all of you despise me. That is my sacrifice, the price I'm willing to pay to lead us to a better future.'

  The Lieutenant felt his phone vibrate before it started ringing. He reached into a trouser pocket and drew out a large phone with a wide screen, tapping to answer it before holding it to his ear.

  'Captain. Yes, I caught the suspect. No, I inflicted an immobilising injury before he committed suicide. The body should dissolve before the workers arrive. Yes. Yes…I understand. I'll visit her at once. What is it connected to?'

  The Captain informed him of what happened in the Rai District, including the human casualties, alongside the words the suspect had supposedly said.

  'What?' the Lieutenant stammered, moving the phone away from his ear and frowning towards it, questioning if he had heard the Captain right. After a few seconds, he brought it back, listening intently. The Captain described multiple claims that a Hateful man called Lucifer Armedeus had sabotaged a protest in Rai, killing three humans, before announcing his mission to become the new god of this world. As he listened, the Lieutenant's eyes scanned towards the three towers once more, not quite able to believe what he was hearing.

  Do you know about this? he wondered, knowing that he could never return, never see her again. The Lieutenant shook his head, trying to dispel any memory from returning to him. He needed to focus. He needed—

  'Will I be able to work with Officer Greene?' the Lieutenant asked in haste, hoping the Captain would assent to this. 'I think his way of reasoning would prove especially useful.'

  The Captain consented, which the Lieutenant appreciated. The young Officer was the only one in the DFA who would work with him. He listened to the Captain make his last few points, trying to wrap his mind around this unusual case. Normally, the Hateful would be sneaky, trying to avoid the possibility of getting him.

  Yet you're doing the exact opposite. You want to face us. You genuinely believe what you say…Hmm…This is interesting. I've met no one with my conviction, with my—

  The Lieutenant turned his gaze to the sky, becoming thoughtful. In a strange way, the Lieutenant respected such conviction. He knew what it meant to burn with purpose, with desire. It made him wonder. It made him search within.

  Does he have one of you? he asked, doubting that the voice within would answer him. Not even a stirring followed.

  'Still, I do this to serve our kind,' he said, turning his gaze towards the three towers once more. 'Becoming a god won't change anything.'