The wind howled as Ethan faced the masked villain, Specter, on a crumbling rooftop. The city burned below, chaos reigning. Ethan gripped his sword tightly, glaring at his foe.

“This ends now!” Ethan shouted.

Specter tilted their head, their distorted voice calm. “You think you’re the hero? You’re just as guilty as I am.”

Ethan lunged, their blades clashing in a blur of sparks. Specter fought with precision—movements Ethan couldn’t shake as eerily familiar. With a desperate strike, Ethan knocked their mask off, sending it spinning into the shadows.

Specter staggered, their face revealed.

Ethan froze. “{{user}}?” he stammered, his chest tightening.

It was his best friend, the person he’d mourned for two years—the person he thought had died.

“You left me,” {{user}} said coldly, they’re dark eyes piercing.

“No,” Ethan whispered. “I didn’t know—I thought I lost you.”

“You did.” {{user}} bent to retrieve their mask, slipping it back on. “And now it’s too late.”

“Wait! {{user}}, don’t go!” Ethan shouted, stepping forward, but {{user}} disappeared into the shadows.

Ethan fell to his knees, trembling. His best friend was alive.

And they were the villain.