Chapter 8: Mixed Blood

Edgard Greyhood was frantically walking down the long hallways of the castle accompanied by his new help, Archibald Sora. Hearing about the news, the young man immediately contacted his father and agreed in helping to find the traitor responsible for this letter. The whispers of a possible invasion from the Empire had already started to spread through the castle, but Jason Borone had swiftly moved to contain the situation, instructing the maids and guards to keep silent.

“The traitor won’t stop at just this,” ” Archibald muttered between heavy breaths as they hurried along. Whoever had orchestrated this wanted to sow chaos and division in the kingdom, to exploit the princess’s precarious position and the king’s failing health. Edgar’s mind churned with questions: Who stood to gain from this turmoil? Who would profit from the political weakness of the kingdom at such a critical time?

“I will interrogate the guards,” Archibald stated with grim determination. Though his options were limited, he couldn’t simply stand by while the kingdom was in jeopardy. Edgar nodded in agreement, and they parted ways. They had already scoured the throne room with Uther and Jason, searching the area where the letter had been left. But their efforts had yielded nothing—not a single footprint, hair strand, or clue. Even Uther’s fairies, usually so diligent and precise, had found no trace of the intruder.

As Edgar moved through the empty corridors, frustration gnawed at him. He had tried repeatedly to contact his emperor using his enchanted mirror, but all his attempts had been in vain. After a time, he slowed his pace, pausing near a statue to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

“If it isn’t Mister Greyhood,” came a cheerful voice, reverberating off the stone walls. Edgar turned to see Safaran Sora approaching, his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor as he balanced each step with care. Safaran’s demeanor was as buoyant as ever, a stark contrast to the tension that weighed heavily on Edgar’s shoulders.

“Mister Sora, a pleasure to meet you today,” Edgar replied, quickly composing himself to avoid showing any sign of unease before such an influential figure. Although Safaran Sora was on his list of potential traitors, Edgar knew the man’s motivations were well-known and seemingly benign. As head of the merchant’s guild, Safaran was a man of refined taste, always full of energy, and had even lent his support to the knights during the troubling events two years prior. His loyalty to the king was unquestionable, rivaling that of his elder brother, Marsh, who had bravely defended the king during a mercenary invasion of the castle. Few men were more devoted to the crown than Safaran.

“I heard that we received a false letter, is that correct?” Safaran asked, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

Edgar, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, nodded. “Yes, that is correct. I’m as baffled as anyone here. The letter has caused quite a stir, and I’m still trying to make sense of it myself.”

“Has the princess been made aware of it yet?”

“I’m not sure,” Edgar admitted. “Mister Borone is handling the situation, so I would recommend speaking with him if you need more details.”

“Mister Borone, hmm?” Safaran mused, thoughtfully stroking his mustache. “I thought he had retired. What brings him back into action all of a sudden?”

The question hung in the air, and Edgar could sense his curiosity as well as some hostility behind these words. “It seems the situation is grave enough to warrant the ex-captain of the knights’s return,” Edgar replied carefully. “I am but a stranger but, the princess and the kingdom should profit immensely from all the experienced people we can get right now.”

Safaran nodded, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. “Indeed, these are troubled times. I suppose we all must do our part.” His tone was light, but there was an edge to his words that made Edgar wonder just how much the man knew or suspected.

From behind, a voice echoed in the hallway, eerie and disembodied.

Are you afraid of the dark?

The simple question sent a chill down Edgar's spine. Instinctively, he turned, searching the shadows for its source, his pulse quickening.

“What was that?” he murmured, a cold sweat forming on his brow as he scanned the dimly lit corridor.

Safaran watched curiously the man’s sudden unease and raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong, sir Greyhood?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Edgar hesitated, his eyes darting around the hallway, but there was nothing—no one—there. Just the oppressive silence and the lingering tension from that haunting question.

It was a rhetorical question, people were afraid of the dark, whether literally or figuratively. But as he searched for an answer, his vision suddenly darkened, his hands still clutching the handkerchief faltered, and the fabric slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor.

“Who is there?” he cried in panic. But he couldn’t even hear his own voice. In an instant, the world around him had plunged into complete darkness, swallowed by an oppressive void. The voice of Safaran, so close a moment ago, faded into nothingness. Panic set in as Edgar realized he couldn’t hear anything—not even the sound of his breathing. The only sensation that remained was the rapid thudding of his heart, each beat echoing in the suffocating silence.

Without his senses telling him where he was, he stumbled on the ground, his sense of touch being one of the last remaining. He tried to cry for help, but nothing came out of his mouth, as if the void swallowed everything, even his voice.

“Who is there?” he asked again, this time fearful. His hair stood up, sensing something unknown approaching him. The voice felt cold, like a distant whisper. Edgar tried to rationalize his thoughts, discarding every possibility he had in mind one by one.

What was happening to him was definitely magical in nature, and yet he had never heard of such a spell. But suddenly, he realized something, a memory flashed through his mind, a tiny detail that someone told him when he first arrived in Sora. With a heavy breath, he screamed out in panic.

“Is it you? J—!”

But as he spoke out, his words muffled by the darkness around him, a sharp pain pierced his chest, like a thousand knives stabbing into him all at once. His body seized up, his mind reeling in shock. Looking down into the void where his body should have been, he felt it—his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood, which leaked through his clenched teeth. Cold replaced the warmth of his body, silence replaced the sound of his heart, dullness replaced the feeling at the tip of his fingers.

With a quiet, lifeless thud, Edgar’s body collapsed onto the cold floor, his mind going back to the darkness of a freezing eternal sleep.

----------------------------------------

“The temple is just along the road, deeper in the woods near the first stop sign. You can’t miss it—it’s quite large,” Ema instructed Luka. Kanami stood beside the sliding door, casting a sheepish glance at her grandmother.

“I don’t know if Mother will grant you an audience, but it’s worth a try,” Ema added with a small, compassionate nod.

Kanami blew air through her nose, holding back a laugh. “I tried for more than ten years, and it didn’t work. Keep your expectations low, Luka.”

The snarky comment made her grandmother uncomfortable, and she tried to avoid Kanami’s gaze. “Don’t listen to her,” Ema said, forcing a smile. “Anything is possible. Just be careful—there’s an invisible barrier protecting the temple. Don’t go breaking your nose!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luka said, offering Ema a grateful nod before turning to Kanami. “I’ll come back in a few minutes and then we can go fetch that water, okay?”

“Fine. I’ll wait but if you don’t come back after some time I will get it myself.”

Luka grinned at Kanami's response, sensing that she was back to her usual self. "Deal," he said lightly. "But I won’t be long. I’m just going to check it out."

Ema gave Luka a gentle pat on the shoulder, her eyes soft with concern. “Good luck, Luka. And remember, be respectful towards Mother, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make a mistake,” Luka assured her, his voice steady and his expression more serious now. He gave Kanami one last glance, a small, reassuring nod before he stepped outside into the night.

The crisp air immediately enveloped him, biting at his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. The night was alive with a chill that seemed to seep through his clothes, urging him to move quickly. Luka picked up his pace, his footsteps echoing softly against the quiet road as he made his way toward the temple.

The road ahead was dimly lit, the moon’s pale glow filtering through the canopy of trees overhead. Shadows danced along the path, cast by the swaying branches and the occasional flicker of a distant paper lantern. As he walked, Luka let his mind wander to what Kanami said earlier. She had tried to talk to the goddess of years, and yet, she had always been turned away. Was he capable of seeing this goddess?

“I don’t really believe in gods but…” Luka’s breath steamed in the cold night as he muttered to himself. “Perhaps in this world, they exist?”

Before long, he reached the first stop sign, just as Ema had described. This little memory made him think of Kanami and whether she was talking to her grandmother or not. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, not wanting to get distracted at such a moment, and observed the path ahead. It was more overgrown, the trees pressing in on either side as if trying to keep out any unwelcome visitors.

Bracing himself, Luka pushed through the dense foliage, the twigs scratching at his arms and face as he forced his way forward. When he finally emerged from the overgrown section, what he saw stopped him in his tracks. The so-called "temple" before him wasn’t the grand, majestic structure he had envisioned, but rather a simple, circular building with a modest roof.

“That’s the temple?” It was so out of place it even made him hesitant, thinking that he must have had the wrong place. It was large, sure, but it was a bit too simple. What caught his attention was that there was no sound. While he was walking down the road, he could hear the chirp of insects but now everything was silent. The moon bathed the area in its light, looking more majestic than ever.

Luka approached cautiously, extending his hand forward. He could feel it—the barrier Ema had mentioned, a subtle resistance in the air, like an invisible wall protecting the temple from intruders. He pressed his hand against it, but it was like pushing against a cold, solid glass pane. No matter how much force he applied, the barrier wouldn’t yield.

“I can’t cross it…” Luka sighed, stepping back. It was like meeting a cold glass wall, if he had walked into it, no one could tell how hurt he would be.

Just as he was about to take another step back, a sudden rustling in the foliage behind him made his heart skip a beat. Luka spun around, his senses on high alert. From the underbrush, something small and furry emerged, and for a moment, he tensed, unsure of what to expect.

“Hello, you—wait, what?” Luka blinked in surprise as a fox trotted out of the bushes. But this was no ordinary fox. Its fur was an unusual mix of black along its back and white on its belly, and its eyes gleamed with an intelligence that seemed almost unnatural in the dim light. The creature moved toward him slowly, its gaze locked onto his, as if sizing him up.

The fox stopped a few feet away, sitting back on its haunches, its bushy tail curled around its paws. Luka found himself staring back at the creature, unsure of what to do.

“Hello you,” Luka repeated, “can you help me?” He said, unconvinced. He knew how dumb it sounded but he had a hard-to-kill habit of talking to animals. “What are you doing here, foxy?” he asked softly, not expecting an answer.

The fox tilted its head slightly as if considering the question. Then, without warning, it stood up and began to walk toward the temple, stopping just short of the barrier. It looked back at Luka, its eyes gleaming in the moonlight, as if beckoning him to follow.

Luka hesitated, watching the fox intently. He felt like there was something magical about this creature. The color of its fur was giving it away but he felt something special, as if the animal understood him. “Are you a familiar of sorts?” He mused aloud. Remembering what Uther told him, that the goddess was a mage capable of helping him, he wondered if she could have creatures under her control. After all, it was common that, in stories, mages were accompanied by a small animal.

He took a step closer, but as he did, the fox turned away and leaped gracefully straight through the barrier, disappearing inside the building. Luka smiled in return and jumped straight forward with both of his arms held in guard. Perhaps it was blind faith, but he knew better than to mistrust his instincts. Unlike before, he passed through as if the wall had never been there in the first place.

A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead as he landed on the other side. While he had a feeling it would work, he wasn’t sure and was bracing for impact. He took a look around him one more time, seeing the barrier’s reflection around him, before walking inside the temple.

Luka’s gaze shifted to the temple itself, a structure that seemed even more enigmatic than earlier from up close. The entrance was a simple wooden door, already open as if inviting people to enter, yet the barrier stated otherwise. If Luka hadn’t known it was a temple, he would’ve thought it was some kind of hall for people to gather, like a big hut.

His eyes roamed the room, taking in the unexpected sight of towering bookshelves lining the walls. They stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with books and scrolls, their spines worn and faded from years of use. The sheer number of them was staggering. In the middle of the room, a large stone table sat under a bright, hovering light that illuminated its surface in stark contrast to the dimness surrounding it.

And there, in the center of it all, was the fox. It stood in the middle of the room, as if waiting for Luka to take in his surroundings.

“Books? So many books!” Luka murmured, his voice filled with surprise. He hadn’t expected this—his imagination had conjured up images of altars, statues, and sacred relics, but not a library. His surprise turned to curiosity as he stepped further inside, his hand brushing against the spine of a nearby tome. The covers were thick with dust, but the weight of history was palpable.

A staircase in the corner of the room led downward, disappearing into the darkness below, hinting at more secrets buried beneath the temple. Luka felt a pull of intrigue, wondering what lay below. But his attention was quickly drawn back to the fox, who had leaped up onto one of the bookshelves. The creature settled there, curling up with a yawn, its eyes half-lidded as if this was all perfectly ordinary.

“You’re used to this place, aren’t you?” Luka smiled to himself, his earlier tension easing just a bit. There was something almost comforting seeing the fox’s nonchalance, as if this place was its home.

Turning back to the book inside his hand, his eyes widened and he stood there, staggered upon reading the title.

“This… What… This can’t be right,” he had a hard time realizing what he was holding. It was a book but one he knew. Which was weird. How come a book like this ended up here?

His gaze dropped to the cover again, his mind racing. “The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien…” he read, the name rolling off his tongue easily. He quickly grabbed another book from the shelf, his heart pounding. “Albert Camus, The Stranger…” With growing urgency, he reached for another, then another. “Homer, The Odyssey… John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men…”

The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. Those were books from his world; iconic works from the 20th century. Luka began to rummage through the shelves, pulling out book after book. His fingers brushed over titles written in German—Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, then in Spanish—Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. He found Les Misérables by Victor Hugo in French.In Japanese a reissue of The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu, One Thousand and One Nights of Scheherazade in Arabic…

The array of languages and cultures represented in the collection was staggering, as if this hidden library was a bridge between Tamia and his world, a repository of knowledge that spanned across dimensions.

Luka’s mind whirled with questions. “What the hell is this place? Who is Mother?”

There was proof, proof of a way to connect this world and his own, a tangible way to have access to his world. This goddess was the only person capable of helping him, he was sure of it now.

“But some of these books are recent, I wonder why,” he mused. It was odd for someone this powerful to indulge in fiction that much. Even though he was convinced these books gave meaningful lessons and ideas, he felt like it was a bit far-fetched to see a god read these.

“Even the famous novels of Conan Doyle are here…” He smiled to himself, glad that one of his favorite characters was here in this library.

As if sensing the shift in his thoughts, the fox that had been observing him silently from atop the bookshelf suddenly leaped down, landing gracefully on the stone floor. It approached Luka with purposeful steps, its eyes gleaming with that same intelligence that had unsettled him earlier.

The fox halted just in front of Luka, its eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. Suddenly, a bright flash erupted from the creature, forcing Luka to shield his eyes. "What the—" he shouted, stumbling back a step, his heart racing.

When his vision cleared, he blinked. The fox was now bathed in an ethereal purple light, its entire form shimmering as if it were made of pure energy. The glow cast shadows across the walls and illuminated the room with an eerie radiance.

Before Luka could fully comprehend what was happening, a voice echoed through the chamber—not quite coming from the fox, but as if resonating from the air around him. "A pleasure to meet you, young man," the voice intoned, deep and resonant, yet somehow gentle.

Luka straightened himself and answered awkwardly, “Y-Yes?”

The glowing fox tilted its head slightly, as if amused by Luka’s reaction. The voice echoed again, ”Fear not, child of man.” A low, knowing chuckle followed, reverberating through the room like a playful whisper. “Hm, hm…Thy purpose was known to me long before thou set foot upon this sacred ground. Thou seekest an audience, do you not?”

So it is her! Jackpot!

Feeling a surge of confidence, he stepped forward, his voice more assured. “Yes, O Goddess of the mountain. I seek your help.”

The fox’s glowing eyes remained fixed on Luka, as if the creature had been robbed of its will. The voice, serene yet regal and commanding, echoed once more.

“Thou art bold, to seek my favor,” the voice said, a hint of amusement threading through its ancient tone. “But tell me, child of the earth, dost thou believe thyself worthy of the knowledge thou seekest?”

“I—” Luka swallowed hard. His answer would seal the deal with the goddess depending on whether she liked it or not. Of course, he had to choose wisely but he preferred to stay honest, as usual. “I don’t think I’m worthy of anything, to be honest,” Luka answered, scratching the back of his head nervously. “But I truly need your help. My place is not here but in my home, where these books come from.”

After a contemplative pause, the voice responded. “Very well. I shall judge thy worthiness myself. We shall meet in Sora, at the foot of the Tree of Creation. My messenger shall guide thee upon thy return there.”

Luka’s brow furrowed slightly, a touch of disappointment in his expression. “May I ask why not now?”

“Thou art not yet prepared. Praise my benevolence, for I grant thee time to ready thyself.

Well, I feel pretty prepared.

Luka bit back a retort, internally sighing. “Thank you for your benevolence, Mother,” he said with a polite nod, striving to keep his tone respectful.

“I see thou hast learned of our customs. It is wise to approach with humility. Return to Sora when thou art ready, and we shall see if thou art worthy of the aid thou seekest.”

“Until then, take heed,” the voice continued. “There are many trials yet to come. Proceed with care.”

Luka nodded again, a mix of relief settling over him. “I will,” he said earnestly. “I’ll make sure to be prepared. Thank you.”

The fox looked up at him with an almost knowing gaze. “I shall leave thee this messenger,” the voice continued, the tone softening to one of reassurance. “This creature shall guide thee on thy journey back to Sora and ensure that thou art safe. Farewell.”

Luka glanced down at the fox with a mix of curiosity and concern. The small creature now seemed to regard him with a peculiar affection, its tail swishing contentedly from side to side. “Thank you,” Luka said with a sincere nod. “I’ll take good care of him.”

A small chuckle echoed in the room. “He is the one who will take care of you, foolish one. I swear, these otherworlders never cease to amuse me.”

Luka blinked, momentarily confused by the goddess’s remark. He glanced at the fox, which seemed unperturbed. “Um, miss Goddess? I feel like you might’ve forgotten to turn off the fox.”

“—!”

Luka heard a small gasp and then a sound, like the snap of a finger before the light surrounding the fox abruptly vanished. A bit embarrassed in her place, he chuckled internally. “A fox, a goddess, a country that resembles Japan… Nah, I’m imagining things.”

While there were similarities to his world, it couldn’t be that simple. At least he hoped.

With a thoughtful sigh, he turned his attention back to the fox. Without warning, the creature leaped gracefully onto his shoulder, settling there with ease and wrapping its tail snugly around his neck.

“Well, looks like I’ve got a little friend now,” Luka said, trying to sound upbeat despite the swirling thoughts inside his head. He patted the fox gently, who purred softly in response. With the fox comfortably perched on him, Luka stepped out of the temple, going back to Ema’s house.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I’m back,” Luka announced as he slid open the door to the living room. To his surprise—and relief—he found Kanami and her grandmother sitting together, sharing a cup of tea with smiles on their faces. “I see you two are enjoying yourselves.”

“Oh, Luka. You found something?” Ema greeted him warmly, her eyes immediately drawn to the fox on his shoulder.

“Yup, Mother lent me this little guy,” Luka replied with a grin. “Isn’t it a bit late for you, though?”

Ema chuckled softly, but before she could respond, Kanami stood up, finishing her cup of tea in one quick gulp. “Luka’s right, Grandma,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “It’s best if you get some rest. Our night’s likely going to be long, and I don’t want you getting caught up in our troubles.”

Ema looked at Kanami, a bit concerned. “Is there really no way to make you stay? You know, no one is forcing you to serve Sora, you could—”

But Kanami was already shaking her head. “No grandma. I have to. I swore I would be back with the water, and I will. And besides,” she took a glance at Luka. “As I told you earlier, I feel less alone now.” She took some bottles lying on the table and gave two of them to Luka. “These are for stocking the water so that it keeps its properties during our return. We only need one to cure the king but more is safer.”

Luka examined the bottles, small and delicately shaped like amphoras. He nodded, understanding the importance of their task. The bottles looked fragile, so he carefully tucked them into his jacket, ensuring they were secure. He knew they’d remain protected unless he willed them to reappear.

“We won’t be stopping back at the house. Once we get the water, we’ll take Pako and leave the village.”

Ema’s eyes filled with a mix of pride and concern as she watched them prepare to leave. She stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Kanami’s arm. “Please, don’t do anything rash,” she said softly, her voice shaky. “Return safely, both of you.”

Luka glanced at Kanami, considering whether to say something, but decided against it, letting the moment between granddaughter and grandmother play out. Kanami gave her grandmother a reassuring smile. “You know me, Grandma,” she says while hugging her slightly. “Don’t worry about us, everything’s going to be fine.”

Ema returned the smile, though it was tinged with the quiet worry that only a grandmother can have. She stood at the doorway, her lips moving in a silent prayer as she watched Kanami step out into the night. Luka moved to follow, but just as he reached the threshold, Ema gently caught his hand.

“Thank you for being with her, Luka,” she said with genuine gratitude. Her eyes searched his, trying to convey the emotions she had buried deep for the longest time. “I don’t understand why the curse hasn’t touched you, but I’m grateful nonetheless.”

Luka squeezed her hand lightly in response, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’m glad to have met you, Ema. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine. I trust her completely.”

Ema nodded, her worry easing slightly at his words. “Have a nice trip, and remember: Mother is protecting you, that fox is proof. Stay respectful inside the temple, alright?” she said, releasing his hand with a final, trusting glance.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that. Have a good night Miss Ema.”

As he turned to leave, the cool mountain air hit him with a refreshing chill, causing him to shiver slightly. He inhaled deeply, letting the crispness invigorate him. Turning his gaze towards Kanami, who was waiting a short distance away, he saw her wave, ready to leave.

With a slight nod, Luka clenched his fists and exhaled slowly. “Alright.”

Let’s do this.

----------------------------------------

Musashi Ryuuji was calmly sitting near the waterfall, his eyes closed in deep meditation. Water was his way of life, water ran through his veins, and he needed to become one with water.

Each generation of the Ryuuji family, the goddess of the earth descends from her mountain and bestows a blessing upon each sibling as they turn ten. Musashi had received the gift of water, tumultuous, unstoppable, and thus hard to control. Its control was a lifelong training that needed the utmost dedication.

That’s why he chose to protect this temple. Its ties with the goddess, its sacred water, and its serene atmosphere, it was the perfect place for his training.

The temple stood as a tranquil sanctuary nestled in the heart of nature, its presence both understated and profoundly serene. Its entrance was marked by a traditional torii gate, its vermilion paint faded slightly with age but was still vivid against the lush greenery that surrounded it.

A path through the gate led to the modest shrine, characterized by its clean lines and gently sloping roof. The roof tiles, gray and weathered, bore the marks of constant humidity, blending seamlessly with the natural environment.

A stone lantern near the entrance cast a warm, flickering light, creating dancing shadows on the tall stone walls of the mountain. Musashi's brow furrowed as he noticed the shadows shifting unexpectedly.

“Hm?” His senses heightened, he became aware of a disturbance. The moon shone clearly overhead, its faint light bathing the sanctuary in a soft, ethereal glow.

There was no sound, yet the ‘flow’ told him that something had entered the temple—something swift, darting from bush to bush. He couldn’t pinpoint its exact location, but he knew it wasn’t an animal. Musashi decided to rise from his meditative pose.

“Show yourself,” Musashi commanded, his voice unwavering and authoritative, his hands poised to draw his katanas at a moment’s notice. Despite his youth, Musashi carried an intense yet serene presence, his long, flowing hair cascading over his shoulders and his white haori marking his noble lineage. His very demeanor exuded an aura that typically prompted submission from those who crossed his path.

Yet tonight, he faced an unexpected challenge. A dagger flew in the air towards him. With a swift motion, he drew one of his katanas to deflect the incoming projectile, making it fly past him.

“Fine,” Musashi murmured, his voice low and cold, “if it’s a fight you seek, you’ll find no mercy here.”

The forest around the temple seemed to hold its breath as Musashi braced himself. From the depths of the shadows, a figure emerged, completely cloaked in black, the steel of its dagger reflecting the shine of the moon.

“There you are!”

Musashi drew his other blade, slicing through the air. The lake beside the temple responded to his command, water rippling and bubbling to the surface. In an instant, the liquid formed an arc, launching into the air with terrifying speed. A single water slice, so condensed and fast it could cut anything in its path.

The figure didn’t flinch. Steel met water, dispersing the strange projectile with grace, slicing through it like air.

Musashi grunted internally. It was no ordinary opponent. He couldn’t sense its ‘flow’, the subtle rhythm that usually revealed his enemy’s intent. It was as if fought a deep void, swallowing his instincts.

“Hm?” Something else distracted him. The flow he had sensed earlier wasn’t his. It belonged to someone else, going straight to the lake. “So you’re just a distraction,” Musashi mused aloud, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But can your friend over there defend themselves as well as you can?”

The cloaked figure’s eyes widened. Without waiting for a response, Musashi shifted his stance towards the lake, his eyes narrowing to pinpoint the other person’s location. The air around him charged with energy, water began to dance around him and his blades, floating bubbles around him.

With a grunt, he swung both of his words, this time unleashing two water blades toward the lake. The cloaked figure dashed forward, putting everything it had in its legs to catch up to them, its dagger poised to intercept the attack.

“As if I would let you!” Musashi shouted while jumping as well, ready to strike the figure down with both of his swords in mid-air.

It was a flawless strategy. The figure would have to make a choice: intercept the water blades to save its ally, likely at the cost of its own life, or let them pass and risk its friend’s death. Either way, Musashi had the upper hand.

As he descended, both blades poised to strike, the cloaked figure moved with unexpected swiftness. In one fluid motion, it unsheathed a second blade from its back—a short sword, just long enough to intercept both of Musashi's katanas. Steel met steel with a resounding clash, the force of the impact reverberating through the air. Yet, the figure held its ground, its stance unwavering.

With its other free hand, the figure deflected one of the water blades, causing it to dissipate into mist before it could reach its target.

“You’ve missed one!” Musashi grunted, pushing against the figure with all his strength. He couldn’t help but notice how slight and frail the figure seemed, smaller in stature than him, yet its strength rivaled that of his father’s. The realization sent a shiver down his spine.

“I didn’t,” a feminine voice replied calmly, cutting through the tension like a blade. The second water blade, undeterred, continued its relentless course toward the lake.

Musashi’s eyes widened in surprise. This wasn’t just any opponent—it was a woman, and she was clearly more than capable. His momentary shock cost him; the figure used his hesitation to disengage, twisting gracefully out of his reach and landing softly on the ground.

To his dismay, Musashi noticed that the second water blade never reached its destination. It had inexplicably lost its momentum, dissipating into harmless droplets before it could strike. His frustration deepened, but he had no time to dwell on it.

Before he could react, she took a small dagger from her boot, the woman turned around and hurled at an absurd speed, red and black lighting illuminating the night coming out of its tip.

Musashi’s instincts screamed at him, and he acted on pure reflex. With a swift motion, he raised one of his katanas just in time to deflect the blow. The dagger struck his blade with a deafening crash, the force behind it sending shockwaves through his body.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. What he had seen was beyond comprehension, but now it all started to make sense.

“Araël’s wind…” he muttered, his voice filled with revulsion. The red lighting he saw coming from that dagger, he knew what it was. It belonged to the little girl banished from his family. A taint on their bloodline. “I knew you were a foul person, Kanami.” Musashi spat, disgust etched across his face. “But to think you would desecrate this temple… Unforgivable.”

“I couldn’t care less about your contempt, uncle,” she retorted with a cold glare. “Luka! Do you have the water now?” She shouted in the direction of the lake as she took off her hood, revealing her face. It was pointless to hide it anymore and she felt better that way.

Luka emerged from the shadows, the small bottles of water clutched tightly in his hand. The scene before him was awkward: Musashi and Kanami stood licked in a tense standoff, the air thick with hostility. Luka’s eyes darted between the two, a bit confused.

“I have it,” Luka said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But…When you told me you would take care of him, I thought…”

“I understand,” Kanami cut him off, her voice firm. “I had no choice but to deal with him directly. This man would have attacked me regardless.”

Musashi’s eyes narrowed as he assessed Luka, who had just arrived. Sheathing his katanas with deliberate calm, he addressed Luak with scorn. “You’ve come this far, but do you even understand what you’re involved in?” He turned back to Kanami, frustrated. “And you, Kanami, knew the consequences of your actions here. But what about him? What does he truly grasp about this situation?”

Luka shifted uncomfortably under Musashi’s intense scrutiny. “I—I'm just here to help,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “We needed the water to save someone and I trust Kanami so…”

Musashi’s eyes flicked back to Kanami. “Trust?” he scoffed. “Trust someone like her? You may not understand the gravity of what you’re involved in, but this temple—this sacred place—is no playground for your schemes.”

“I didn’t come here to argue, we all know it’s pointless with this clan anyway,” she retorted, cutting him off. “I came here to save a king. Far more than you could ever pretend in your pathetic life being your worthless of a father’s dog.”

“And being a dog to a foreign king is somehow better, I suppose?” Musashi spat back.

Luka, holding the water bottles carefully, sighed in frustration. “Could you at least—”

Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed through the forest. Before they could react, a crackle of blinding light appeared from nowhere, aimed directly at Luka.

“Get down!” Kanami shouted, her voice urgent. But it was too late. The light didn’t strike Luka directly; instead, it targeted the bottles he held.

Water dripped from Luka's left hand as one of the bottles exploded on impact, shards of glass and water spraying out. The pain from the shrapnel made him cry out, but his first instinct was to protect the remaining intact bottle, shoving it hastily into his jacket.

“Damn, I missed,” a voice echoed through the forest, coming from somewhere high up in the trees

“Reveal yourself, now!” Musashi shouted back at the forest, drawing both of his blades.

The voice chuckled darkly. “Aye aye, but I’m on a tight schedule here.”

A figure leaped gracefully from the treetops, descending with impressive speed and agility. As he landed, the moonlight revealed a striking appearance: a long spear held loosely in one hand, glittering armor that clinked with each movement, and long, golden hair flowing like a cascade. His face was marked by a chilling smile that exposed sharp, shark-like teeth. “Sup’ big bro,” he greeted Musashi with a cold, mocking tone.

His face turned pale as he recognized the figure. “Ken…Shin?” Musashi blurted out, dumbfounded, his hands wavering.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not ‘sposed to come here and all…” he said nonchalantly, picking at his ears as if this was a casual visit. “But I’mma make you a favor,” a dark chuckle escaped his lips as he licked them. “I’m hunting those two, not you. Revenge ain’t my thing, you know.”

Kanami stood back, gripping tightly her dagger. “Luka, when I tell you, run,” she whispered.

Something in her voice told Luka this was far worse than dealing with Musashi. Seeing how he jumped and landed so easily in such heavy armor, he believed that.

“Foxy!” Luka suddenly shouted.

From the bushes, the small fox he had left behind earlier leaped out, landing gracefully on top of his head.

“One of the familiars of the goddess?” Kenshin raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading a little.

“What?” Musashi asked, confused.

“That fox,” Kenshin explained, pointing a finger at the creature perched on Luka’s head, “is proof that Mother is protecting the kid. A familiar of the goddess herself. I really should avoid hurting it, then.”

“I… didn’t know about that…” Musashi mused, a bit taken aback by the revelation.

Luka, meanwhile, wanted to retort he was about the same age as him but kept his mouth shut, readying for Kanami’s signal. His legs felt heavy, petrified in fear at the sight of Kenshin’s long dented spear, the fox’s presence barely giving him comfort.

Kenshin’s lips curled into a sinister smile, his sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Well, then,” he said, his voice dripping with excitement. “It’s been a while since I tasted blood. Let’s get started,” Kenshin smiled creepily. His spear began to glow with a faint, eerie light, the weapon almost humming with anticipation.

“Now, run!” Kanami shouted, launching herself at the enemy, her dagger meeting the shaft of the spear.

Luka’s heart pounded in his chest as he turned and bolted, his legs finally obeying him. The fox clung tightly to his head as he sprinted into the darkness, hearing rhythmic clashes of metal behind him. His instincts screamed at him to not look back and to keep running, to put as much distance between himself and this new threat.

Kenshin barely flinched as Kanami’s dagger struck his spear, deflecting her attack with a casual twist of his wrist. The force of the repelled strike nearly knocked Kanami off balance, but she quickly regained her footing.

“Gahaha! Come on Kanami!” Kenshin taunted, his voice booming with amusement. “Is this all you’ve got? I expected more from one of Araël’s spawns!” His grin widened as he goaded her, his focus entirely on the fight.

Kanami grunted as she delivered a powerful kick, pushing Kenshin back a few meters as he glided on the soil. He slid across the soil, barely fazed, his feet carving shallow grooves in the earth. The impact should have winded any normal opponent, but Kenshin merely staggered for a moment before regaining his stance, his expression twisted in anticipation. He was strong. Way stronger than any opponents she had faced thus far. And as he stood up from the kick, the tip of his spear started crackling, illuminating the area in a blinding light.

As Kenshin straightened, the tip of his spear began to crackle with energy, illuminating the surrounding area in an eerie, blinding light. “This is getting fun!” he cackled with crazed laughter as bloodlust surged within him. The spearhead, now infused with lethal lightning, sparked violently as he surged forward with terrifying speed.

Kanami barely had time to react. The spear’s lightning-charged tip descended upon her with a force that sent shockwaves through the air. She raised her sword in a desperate attempt to block the strike, and the resulting clash echoed through the temple’s inner garden like a thunderclap. His strength was too much, her arms struggling to hold against the onslaught. And the hot, burning metallic tip now red started to burn Kanami’s face, sweat trickling down her forehead.

But with a swift, calculated twist of her body, she managed to glide along the shaft of his spear while poising her dagger towards his throat, taking advantage of his momentum.

Kenshin’s eyes widened, caught off guard by her sudden counterattack. For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as the blade of her dagger gleamed in the moonlight, inches from his exposed neck.

But Kenshin’s reflexes were honed by countless battles. With a snarl, he jerked his head back, the dagger slicing through the air where his throat had been just moments before.

“Not bad!” he cackled, taking a step back while holding his spear with both of his hands. Using the metal shaft, he created some distance by pushing her away, and, using the range to his advantage, started to spin his spear around his body, the whirling motion creating a deadly arc around his body. The spear became a blur of metal and lighting as it was brought down multiple times, aiming to cleave Kanami in two.

She dodged one by stepping to the side, but the other attacks were too fast, their speed forcing her to block the rest as best as she could. The force behind each strike was overwhelming, far more brutal than she had anticipated. With each blow, Kenshin took a step forward, adding more power to each of his blows, pushing Kanami back each time with more force, her fleet sliding across the soil as she struggled the hold her ground. The sheer power of Kenshin’s strikes sent shockwaves up her arms, numbing her hands and weakening her grip on the dagger.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, seconds felt like minutes as she desperately parried the relentless barrage. Kenshins’s eyes were wild with bloodlust, his laughter echoing in the night as he pressed his advantage. Each blow drove her further and further back, the ground beneath her feet giving away little by little until she was unable to keep her footing and was sent flying away into a nearby tree.

Kanami gasped in pain as she collided with the trunk, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of her lungs.

“Ahahaha! Stand up!” But Kenshin didn’t wait, lunging forward, ready to strike with the dented side of his spearhead, still enchanted with lightning. Grunting and with sheer willpower, Kanami stood up, clutching his teeth to handle the pain.

“Araêl’s wind!” she cried out, her short sword now surrounded with red lightning.

“Tenrai Yari!”

She met Kenshin’s assault head-on, the clash lighting up the night like a storm unleashed. As the metal collided, something unexpected happened. The lighting enchantment that had coated Kenshin’s weapon subsided, disappearing into thin air, as well as all of the strength he had mustered up to fight her head-on.

Kanami didn’t waste a second. Sensing the shift in Kenshin’s stance, she seized the moment, her eyes blazing with determination. She pressed her advantage, her strikes coming faster, more precise, each one intended to end the fight.

Kenshin's eyes widened as he felt his strength ebbing away with every clash of their weapons. “Oh, that’s right,” he muttered through gritted teeth, realization dawning. “You can shut down my mana.” He fought to regain control, but Kanami’s relentless assault kept him on the defensive, her blade a blur of deadly intent.

“Too bad it’s not enough!” he sneered, his voice dripping with confidence. Kanami hesitated, just for a split second, but it was all the time Kenshin needed. With a swift, fluid twist of his body, he slipped through her onslaught like water through his fingers. Before she could react, he was behind her, the shaft of his spear wrapping around her arm like a vice.

Kanami gasped as she felt the cold steel press against her arm, forcing her to halt her attack. Kenshin grinned wickedly, his face close to hers, flashing his shark teeth in a wicked smile. “You thought you had me?” he whispered, his voice tinged with mockery. “That’s cute, girl!”

He yanked her arm with a sudden jerk, pulling her off balance. Kanami stumbled, struggling to regain her footing, but Kenshin didn’t give her a chance. He twisted the spear, using it as a lever to fling her to the ground with brutal force. The impact knocked the wind out of her, pain radiating through her body as she hit the earth hard.

Kenshin stood over her, his wicked grin widening as he raised his spear for the final blow. “Well, that was disappointing,” he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. “But I need to get that brat too.”

Just as the spear began its deadly descent, a blur of motion shot between them. A flash of steel met Kenshin’s spear with a resounding clang, sparks flying as Musashi’s twin blades intercepted the strike. Musashi stood between Kanami and Kenshin, his katanas crossed in a defensive stance, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Fucking seriously big bro?” Kenshin growled, pushing the twin swords with all of his might the twin swords.

“Back off, Kenshin,” Musashi growled. With a powerful shove, he broke Kenshin’s momentum, forcing him to stagger back a step.

Kenshin’s sneer twisted into a grin as he regained his footing. He leveled his spear at Musashi, the weapon crackling with residual energy. “You do realize,” he said, his tone dripping with malice, “I could count this as a declaration of war against the Empire, right?

Musashi’s grip tightened on his swords, the muscles in his arms tensing as he prepared for the next move. “So be it. We people of Ryuuji aren’t afraid of the Empire of the north.”

Kenshin laughed loudly, dumbfounded by this answer. “Seriously? You’re going to war for someone you were trying to kill a few minutes ago?”

Musashi remained silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the destruction around them—the scorched earth, the shattered stones, the sacred temple grounds marred by Kenshin’s lightning. His grip on his swords tightened, but his voice was calm, resolute.

“This isn’t about her,” Musashi finally replied. “It’s about protecting this temple. I won’t let mixed blood like you cause any more damage or stain this sacred ground with blood.”

“Mixed… blood?” Kanami gasped, wincing as she painfully pushed herself back to her feet, her gaze flicking between the two brothers.

Kenshin’s playful grin widened, though there was a glint of something darker in his eyes. “Oh, come on, big bro,” he teased, feigning hurt. “You’re really going to turn against your own flesh and blood?”

Musashi looked down, and sighed. “I have no little brother. You were banished from the clan long ago,” he then gritted his teeth, painful memories flashing back in his mind. “You are nothing but a monster. Stopping you is part of my duty.”

Kenshin Ryuuji. This name echoed in Musashi’s mind. He never expected to see him again. After all, he was assumed dead at the age of ten, when he received his blessing from the goddess of the mountain.

He had always been a violent child. Born from a forgotten hero blessed with the name of Edensveel and an abomination birthed from a member of the Ryuuji clan and an oni, this child was a mixed blood. Both Ryuuji and Edensveel, both human and demon. It didn’t take long before his demonic nature took over, making him thirsty for blood, violence and domination. Though female oni are far calmer, males are often used as workforce by the goddess to appease their violent nature.

But he… He didn’t want to be chained up. He wanted to be free, powerful, the strongest. Once he met the goddess of the land, he swore upon his name, a vow that sent chills through the hearts of all who heard it.

“I will murder you one day.”

That was all that drove him. His blood was perfect, making him a gifted child with a unique prowess for combat. But Oda, the chief of the clan, and his brothers feared his nature. So they decided to kill him, throwing him off a cliff in the mountain to pass it as an accident.

And now, standing before him, Musashi realized that the boy who had once been his brother had indeed become the very monster they had feared. Kenshin was back, and his thirst for blood had only grown stronger.

Kenshin’s grin widened as he studied Musashi, “You thought you could get rid of me that easily, huh?”

Musashi’s expression remained stoic, but inside, his heart ached with the memories of what Kenshin had been. “You gave us no choice,” Musashi replied. “Your bloodlust, your thirst for power—it was too dangerous. We had to protect the clan.”

Kenshin let out a hearty laugh, finding his excuse funnier than he thought. “Gahahaha! Protect the clan?” he repeated his tone mocking. “Tell me, then—what about her?” He jerked his head toward Kanami, who was struggling to stay on her feet, her breath labored from the earlier fight. “What about our little sister over here?”

Musashi’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, unable to answer. “Kanami is different,” he declared, bearing no argument.

Kenshin’s grin widened, his expression almost gleeful as he caught the uncertainty in Musashi’s voice. “Different?” he echoed, his tone teasing. “True, she is worse,” he continued, nodding exaggeratedly as if agreeing with Musashi. “I thought you killed Araël’s spawns when they were babies.” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, and he let his hand hang lazily at his side before flashing an excited, almost manic smile. “That’s why I was so thrilled to hear I had a little sister like her. Seriously, who could’ve imagined that the same clan that threw me off a cliff would keep a monster like her?”

“I wonder why you waited so much before interrupting our fight?” Kenshin added, enjoying himself, knowing Musashi had no room to answer. “Was it because you hoped that one of us would die? So that you could kill the remaining one while he was breathless and exhausted?” His sinister smile revealed his sharp teeth as he basked in the sheer pleasure of reading him like a book.

He then turned his head towards Kanami, feigning pity. “See? He doesn’t care about protecting you, and yet, what, you came back here? Was it only for this mission or was it because you hoped things would change?”

His voice turned into a whisper, menacing and filled with venom. “You and I are the same, Kanami.”

“We have no family. No land to call our own. Just our swords, and the blood of our enemies.”

His eyes bore into hers, a twisted sense of kinship shining through the madness. “You know it as well as I do. We’re the outcasts, the ones who don’t belong. The only difference is, I’ve embraced it.”

Kanami’s breath hitched. Deep down, she knew he was right.

There is no hope in Tamia.

The words of her master echoed in her mind, a reminder that no matter where she goes, she will remain unwanted. And yet, she refused to give up her beliefs. Was it wrong for her to believe that, perhaps, they had changed their minds? Of course it was a misplaced belief, but she still thought about it while in the desert.

But, in these past few years, she had achieved nothing in the pursuit of her goal for happiness. She had been observing, obeying a new master at its every command, and yet nothing changed. In spite of everything she endured, she couldn’t bring herself to embrace this life of outcast She had fought too hard, endured too much to simply give in.

And today…

“Perhaps,” Kanami answered, her voice slightly trembling. “We might be the same. I might not have a family, or a home.”

The face of that young man flashed in her mind. A long time ago she would’ve never imagined that someone would accept her as she is, willing to talk to her. That day, when he came to her doorstep to thank her, what she felt, that fleeting glimpse of acceptance…

It was worth all of this suffering.

“But today,” a cocky smile pursed her lips. “I have something to live for. I haven’t fallen that low yet.”

Kenshin’s grin faltered for a brief second, surprise flickering in his eyes before they darkened again. “I see…” An unknown feeling took over him, anger fueling his fire furthermore. When she spoke those words, he understood what she meant. Until now he hadn’t thought about it, but that kid he tried to kill earlier. Until now, he hadn’t given the kid a second though, but now, the very idea of him ignited a seething rage.

In other terms, he pissed him off.

Such a weak hope, that could be plucked out from existence with just a twist of his spear. How dare she, how dare she find something worth living in a world that had cast them aside? It enraged him to think that someone so insignificant could hold such power over her.

“I’m going to take that reason from you then,” Kenshin snarled, his voice dripping with anger. His grip on his spear tightened, the weapon crackling with renewed energy as his resolve hardened into something cold and merciless. “I’ll rip that hope from your hands and crush it right in front of you. Then, we’ll see what you have left to fight for.”

Mana surged through Kenshin’s body like a raging storm, amplifying his power and driving his fury to new heights. His muscles coiled like a spring, veins pulsing with raw energy as his entire form seemed to blaze with an unnatural light. The ground beneath him cracked under the force of his power, and with a single, explosive leap, he shot past Musashi and Kanami, moving like a blur in the night in pursuit of his new target.

“I’ll murder you, you piece of shit,” Kenshin muttered while in the air, glancing down at the forest beneath him.

Nothing shall stand in his way, not even the goddess.

His eyes locked onto his target, running at full speed in the forest like a small animal. Licking his lips, his anger turned into a crazed smile.

“Time to hunt!”