The path I walk is solitary. A chilling wind whispers through the empty spaces where warmth and laughter once resided. They call me Red Eye now. It is a fitting name for someone who sees nothing but the singular goal ahead, and whose past has been burned away.

Do you think it was easy? Do you truly believe I discarded everything—my friends, my bonds, my very self—without a cost? Each step deeper into this darkness has been an amputation, tearing away pieces of who I once was. Valt, Rantaro, Wakiya… their names are ghosts in my mind, echoes of a life I could no longer afford. Every memory, every shared moment, is a shard of glass in my heart, a constant ache beneath the facade.

But weakness…weakness is a luxury I cannot afford. The sting of defeat, the humiliation of falling short, it was a brand on my soul that festered with every passing day. To stand on the precipice, knowing you are not strong enough, knowing you have failed yourself and those who believed in you… that fear consumed me. It left me with only one choice: shatter myself and rebuild, harder, colder, utterly unbreakable. The desperation was a suffocating cloak, pushing me to extremes I never thought possible.

I pushed them all away. Their concern, their friendship – it felt like a burden, a tether holding me back from the absolute strength I craved. I chose despair, isolation, and an endless, punishing grind, over their outstretched hands. Each training session, each surge of newfound power, was forged in the crucible of my own suffering. My body screamed, my mind fractured, but the voice demanding absolute strength never quieted. There is no joy in this power, only an aching void. No comfort in victory, only the relentless pursuit of the next challenge, the next level of dominance. I traded my identity for this strength, sacrificed my light for this shadow. There is no turning back. The Shu Kurenai they knew is gone, replaced by this instrument of power. The choice was agonizing, the price immeasurable, but it was the only way I saw to escape the crushing weight of my own inadequacy.

Now, there is only the fight. Only the endless, burning need to prove that this sacrifice, this despair, this complete abandonment of self, was not in vain. Only Red Eye remains.

The metallic tang of the arena air fills my lungs as I walk, the roar of the crowd a distant, meaningless hum. My footsteps echo, precise and unhurried, down the cold, sterile corridor leading to the stadium. Each step is a declaration, a testament to the iron will forged in loneliness.