Our family was… Our family was all sorts of fucked-up.

  You have sects in the Jianghu using every method under the sun to breed the perfect heir, then you have the Shens. There’s no family with a greater set of doomed circumstances. We were a time-bomb waiting to pop, and the Disaster lit the fuse earlier than any of us had anticipated. Without the Disaster, without High Home, I probably would’ve found myself in the same spot I was in today, just with a different outlook. Heh, I’d be happier, maybe even find a girl I like, but I would still be sinking into an inescapable sandpit.

  Look at us.

  My father was convicted of manslaughter, and we could never look a Legend in the eyes.

  My mother was raised to be an assassin, and her xia-blood unwittingly carried an SSS-Rank [Skill].

  My uncle was one of the greatest soldiers on the planet, and it was a matter of time before governments around the world caught wind of his new allegiance.

  Althea and I were a product of their twisted stories. They merged together, crafting a destiny so bleak that even the most staunch, bright-eyed optimist would throw in the towel. I realized that now, but who would’ve guessed the journey would be worse than the destination?

  Who would crawl through Hell just to enter Hell?

  Getting beaten, thrown around by my dead and corrupted parents—being punished for how I turned out—there was nothing more humiliating and pathetic.

  What could I do to stop this? Can I even do anything?

  [?▊█▋▋ ?▂▔█??▔█▎ ▍: ?▇▄▍▋▎ ▍▆ ?▂▇▎ ▎ ▋ - ▆???▄???▃ ▎ ▅ ▇▄?▎ ▄? ?▍▃ ▄??▔▇]

  I was helpless, like how I always was, when Mom swung her whip. It grew triple the length and danced around me faster than my eyes could process. There was a fancy technique behind the swinging, but to my imperfect perception, it was random and chaotic and destructive—unreadable. The [Graveyard of Heroes and Earth], destroying any possibility of mobility. Around me, the ground was pummeled and gored, and every obstacle in her way was whacked aside or got smashed to bits.

  In the nick of time, I threw on [Armor] before a heavy weight crashed down onto my shoulder, crumpling the protection there. My [Rifle] fell. Raising my arms did nothing as a chain ripped them back down. Mom didn’t allow me to blink or breathe. Within a second, it felt like she’d struck me a dozen times and my body was no longer under my control.

  I was airborne, that’s why. The world spun a hundred times before I crashed onto my stomach. Where did the pain start and end…? Breathing was getting hard too. The stimulant was wearing off. How much time did I have left before my body completely gave up? God knows my heart was closer.

  While lying dumbly on the floor, I saw Althea lift Uncle to his feet, both of them desperate seeing the position I was in. It would only get worse. A tremor rocked through the floor, painfully rattling my ribs, and from the corner of my eyes, a limping giant reappeared. He straightened his back and cracked his stony knuckles, staring ahead at what remained of our family. He paid no mind to Mom—his wife in the correct universe—and his son.

  Two Alternates against the three of us… A murderer and an assassin, who both had a theoretical lifetime to hone their gift at bloodsports. Even with Uncle fighting alongside us, our chances at victory were slim—no, delusional.

  We couldn’t win.

  No matter what we did or could do, winning was impossible.

  All we can do is…is what we’ve been doing for the last seven years.

  “R-Run…” I muttered before breaking out into a rough cough. I lifted myself higher. “RUN—!”

  Something rammed my stomach hard enough that my organs threatened to burn out of my throat. I rolled and skidded, stopping only when friction told me to. My vision darkened, pixelated even, and left me in the prison of my hearing. I heard my sister yelling something. My name? Her voice was drowned by a familiar distorted snarl, then quick and thunderous stomping. It was loud and gradually faded away as a distant thing.

  My eyes finally opened and caught a gleaming open door, enamoring me with white glaring sunlight and a promise of freedom. Althea and Uncle were nowhere to be seen, and the same was said for our father.

  Which left me and Mom.

  She was standing in front of me, looking down at her son with a subtle yet predatory tilt of her head. The gray of her face concealed what faux-emotions she had, but why should that matter at this point? Her chain-whip was gone at least; couldn’t see if she had any weapons other than her two hands and feet.

  "?▎ ▕ ??▄ ▏?▔▇▄▔█▂,” she said to me, sounding vaguely like Mandarin but Alternate-talk was more alien than any foreign language.

  For some reason, like she said a joke, I laughed. Using my trembling arms, I sat myself up, hunched over because straightening my spine hurt. “I…” Whatever funny, witty response I had dissolved when I saw thicker, more numerous scars on Mom’s arms. “...I don’t know anymore.”

  "? ?▄?▊ ?▍??▄? ▅?▎ ▌ ? ?▄?▊ ▌?▍." She produced a strange gray pistol from somewhere, probably custom-made from Zhenlong (真龙). The unnatural barrel was almost tickling my armored forehead, and her slender finger caressed the trigger. "▔▎ ▔▇▄ ▋?▌▁, ▔▎ ▔▇▄ ?▋?▕▆—”

  I tilted my head to the side, blatantly looking behind Mom.

  Mom briefly checked behind her—

  [Memento Recollection - Technique Daggers]

  I slashed the iron from her hand. Suddenly leaping up did terrible things to my body, shocking my muscles and every inch of my back with torment. I pushed through. I had to. Mom breathed a garbled gasp as the blade narrowly missed her cheek, then seemingly locked her jaw when a second cut her arm.

  I regenerated the damage [Yuzhou] sustained.

  My [Daggers] against her hands.

  [?▇▄▍▋▎ ▍▆ ?▂▇▎ ▎ ▋ - ?▋▋ ▁▋?▃▄? ▕▍▃▄? ▇▄??▄▍]

  [All Blades Under Heaven], a technique designed to defeat—you guessed it—all bladed weapons. Her palms flew, targeting my [Daggers]. Our arms messily crossed, entangling and unraveling and entangling again. But this wasn’t a fight; this was an one-sided ass-whooping. I simply couldn’t beat Mom, whether she was my mother or an assassin.

  Repeatedly, my [Daggers] were knocked from my hands. I regenerated them only to get disarmed again. They littered the ground, evaporated, only for more steel to drop. Mom saw through my farce and clicked her tongue, disappointed with my exhibition, and drove a palm to the center of my chest.

  I spat blood through my helmet’s slits. She chopped the side of my neck, and my legs nearly went jelly. An elbow to my stomach, a flurry of quick strikes all over my torso, and a final punch to seal the deal.

  Once again, I flew. This time, I hit a wall reminiscent of when Dad first struck me, and I bounced off and fell onto my knees. Somehow, I was still conscious and nothing felt paralyzed; plus, it was my lucky day, because Mom had brought me close to a glowing exit. Yeah, that was definitely my masterplan: suffer more debilitating injuries for a chance to escape.

  The amount of hurt was clouding my head; everything wanted to drag my body back down to the underworld. A dark part of me thought a rest was finally in order, but not now. I can’t. Through the rising pain, I used what little rush remained of the stim and ran for freedom. Turning my back to an assassin was asking to get killed, but I gambled.

  Gunshots rang, teasing my legs a few inches away. One zipped by my shoulder and ricocheted off sheet metal; then something cracked against my left shoulderblade. I fell forward, my hands scraping concrete, but I stayed on my feet. Without [Yuzhou], I’d have a useless log of flesh and bone. That little bit of relief turned into glee when I felt sunlight leaking through the cracks in my [Armor].

  I was outside.

  But Mom ruined my one second of euphoria with brass. As I followed the outside-wall to find the others, bullets pierced through like a glorified hole-puncher, always an inch away from my vitals. When the gunshots stopped torturing my psyche, I turned the corner and came onto an abandoned and overgrown concrete lot—

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A tire curved and banged against the warehouse a few feet above my head, bounced off and began a long journey away from this fucking place. This was the main staging area where internationals had rolled through the broken gates. Fresh blood was gathered in small pools and stripes, glittering in the sun and tarmac. Near them were thick, frantic tire-marks for the lucky cars that had escaped; for an unfortunate few, they were either flipped on their side or flipped over completely.

  For one, it was missing a couple wheels.

  Dad, with his back facing me, hurled a tire like a frisbee, but with his wounded arms, his throw went wide-right from his actual targets. Beyond him and closer to the gates, they stood together out of necessity rather than of choice. Uncle was bleeding badly from his right arm, and that part of his exoskeleton was laying on the ground surrounded by a few broken yet important-looking pieces. Thea looked worse, from the numerous cuts she’d sustained at the beginning and how she stood with a limp. The skin on her palms were raw like sandpaper had gone through them.

  As strong and smart as my sister was, as much of a warrior as my uncle was, we met our match. Would it even be possible to run away in this state?

  Even if survival was becoming less of a promise…

  [Skill Activation: Mana Impact, Technique Daggers]

  I had to try.

  I launched myself toward Dad, dragging my [Daggers] over the back of his legs. His thighs, calves, behind the knee—targeting specifically the still-steaming holes popped by Flow Reversal. Gray blood colored the asphalt and vanished, and a pained grunt from my father told me this was at least doing something.

  His heavy arms flailed and away I went. Identical [Daggers] whistled through the air in a relentless, angry swarm. Some bounced off, others sunk deeply into his wounds and encouraged the bloody faucet to keep pouring.

  It brought me enough time to run like hell back to Thea and Uncle. “Port! I’ll cover you—!”

  My head.

  Something hit my head, like someone had struck the back of my skull with a bat.

  My helmet shattered.

  A warm liquid streamed down the side of my face, and bitter iron stained my tongue.

  I blinked and I was on the ground.

  I blinked again and I was sitting behind a car with Uncle, who was using his good arm to check on my head. “—lex! Dammit—!” He tore something off his rig and tossed it over the car. Something exploded. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  There were three blurry and bright fingers.

  “Three…” I muttered.

  “Good. You look more rattled than hurt.” He patted the side of my neck, the clean side. “[Yuzhou] took the bullet. C’mon, get up!”

  Whether I wanted to or not, Uncle pulled me into a shaky stand as I restored [Yuzhou]. I should be the one supporting him; his right arm was more blood than clothes and skin, but why was I bitching? As soon as he let go, I fell forward and leaned against the car’s chassis, peering over the hood.

  Althea had copied [Yuzhou] in theory, but most of the vanishing pieces joined the cracked concrete, the sheared metal from Uncle’s exoskeleton, and other detritus. Yet she managed to fend against two Alternates by herself. Didn't know how long, but enough for Uncle to recover my burden of a body. The Alts were frozen together, married in a stasis bubble. Dad was caught mid-charge while Mom flourished a thin, military-style blade. Behind them, I spotted another bubble closer to the warehouse, too far for Thea to have thrown—

  She was bleeding from the eyes and mouth, and visible steam hissed from her shoulders.

  Althea fell to a single knee.

  [Stalwart Bastion], that’s how she fought Mom and Dad while her big brother was being useless. It “enhanced” her physical prowess, rendering her stronger than most men—Dad even, probably—but the [Skill] came with an unwritten drawback: her body couldn’t sustain the power boost without ripping itself apart.

  It must’ve been her trump card, but as time went on and as the injuries started to pile, using [Stalwart Bastion] would kill her faster than our parents did. And she had to use it here and now. Couldn’t be longer than thirty seconds, if that, and look at her.

  Seeing her brought proper feeling back to my legs, and the stupid men in her family took her away.

  “I-I’m fine…” she insisted despite evident weakness in her voice. “I’m just really tired…”

  Thea forced herself to stand unsupported, then scared us half to death by nearly tipping over. Her sense of balance kicked in and she nodded reassuringly, wiping the blood off her face. The steam was getting lighter, but her breathing was heavier. Slower.

  She’d pushed herself this far and all I could do was stand there bloody and weak. Stronger willpower than me, though, but she couldn’t go on for much longer. She barely had the strength to stand properly.

  Uncle quickly cocked his head away from the Alts. “Let’s go! That was my last stasis grenade!”

  We fled from the Alternates, making sure we steered clear of the rolled-over car, with our failing legs. Althea was stumbling more than running. Uncle Ali was cursing his exoskeleton, which was becoming more of a hindrance than a boon. And there was me, counting the seconds until my muscles would seize up and my mind would go blank and my failing eyes would the reaper on the other side.

  I’d been… I’d been close to death a few times, but this was different than most of them. It wasn’t like that night in High Home, when I closed my eyes and accepted what came next; nor was it a blazing fury, raging at the thought of dying. Today was both, nullified. There was no resignation, but there was no urge.

  There was only the numbing present, the totality of everything I was and the natural ebb and flow of the world.

  I only had the people running beside me, their faces contorted but their eyes were desperately awake with greater desire than I couldn’t know myself. What were they thinking? What was waiting for them tomorrow?

  I couldn’t answer that question myself. Well, I couldn’t give a satisfactory answer. Tomorrow was the next day, simple as that. Whatever tomorrow brought, I’d have to deal with it, then deal with the next thing, and the next, trying to squeeze out “meaning” and “purpose” between the beats only to lose it all again.

  All I wanted was to give Althea options—

  The stasis bubbles popped without the bullets and other projectiles this time. Dad, whose momentum had been trapped like lightning in the bottle, was uncorked. Despite being nowhere near him, Dad continued on, rammed into the car we had been hiding behind, and sent it flying ahead.

  That was why we were out of the car’s direct path, and luckily it missed us.

  [Memento Recollection - Nightingale Rifle]

  I blindly fired behind me knowing Mom was next. Her shortsword flickered and her hand blurred, effortlessly deflecting the magick-bullets like she was hitting fouls. Every deflection encouraged her to snake forward, encroach on our position faster than our three sets of legs, with a cold, clinical bloodlust of a killer without pleasure.

  One of the deflected bullets snapped a foot behind me, kicking up asphalt-dust. A shadow was growing larger. Two of them.

  “Split!” Uncle cried.

  We jumped in different directions, anywhere in a foolish attempt to keep our lives a few seconds longer. Mom had nearly driven her blade through [Yuzhou], and Dad almost turned the others into paste.

  What happened next was an all-out brawl, just like a family feud over political disagreements at Thanksgiving dinner. It was a tragedy of guns, swords, fists, and monsters. Of pain. We fought and relied on our distressed instincts as our hearts and minds were nudged closer to oblivion, with every breath taken, with every move we took, with every attempt on our lives.

  The little mistakes stacked up like dominos, and all it took was one small nudge to knock them down.

  [TEAM STATUS]

  INCAPACITATED: Althea Shen

  I opened my eyes, free from my trance, to take in the unfolding reality.

  My sister laid almost motionless on the ground the furthest away from us, having been kicked there. It wasn’t a hard kick, she'd taken much worse, but her body simply gave out. She was done. The same couldn’t be said for our uncle, where most of his exoskeleton had been forcibly ripped off his body. He kneeled behind me, trying his best to keep his old muscles moving. He survived worse situations, he internalized this through gritted teeth, but his legs couldn’t bring themselves to stand.

  There was me, mostly stripped of [Yuzhou], somehow the remaining fighter despite being perpetually a step away from being incapped.

  Half my vision was colored red and pink, looking between Mom and Dad. Dad was hanging on through willpower like us—he was better at that—and there was Mom, the cleaner of the two. She suffered a few good cuts, a half-successful Sixteen-Point, but basically fighting at one-hundred percent.

  Fuck.

  Guess the agents were leaving us to die… Guess I could say the same thing for Angels.

  I wasn’t angry; I spent too much energy to feel angry anymore.

  I told you: the future of the Shens was bleak. Like what Leo said, we had powerful enemies that didn’t know we existed or weren’t given a reason to act yet. Against the full weight of the world, we were a powerless, helpless family unable to obtain the simplest want: a tomorrow that wouldn’t kill us.

  A happy future.

  The world thought we deserved otherwise. Life itself refused to hand us that treasure, repeatedly, throughout generations.

  Dad was raised impoverished with his older brother, surrounded by crime and ugliness from the outside streets to the peeling walls of their home.

  Mom was molded to fit one purpose: to kill cultivators, and witnessed abject horrors executed by the “civilized” society.

  Uncle held the body of his pregnant wife—my aunt and unborn cousin—and promised retribution to this day.

  Just… I didn’t think we’d bite the dust like this.

  So much for a long and successful career at Angels Guild. All I’d been doing was running around the city, complaining about every little thing, and getting my ass kicked. Primordial Plaza, Seraph, Silverhonor, now here. I lived and I would die being the man opposite of what Mom and Dad wanted: terrible and weak, unable to break the cycle.

  Not for himself, not for his sister. Not for anybody.

  [TEAM STATUS]

  INCAPACITATED: Conqueror