Deep within the dense forest of El Verde, a small wooden cabin stands surrounded by towering trees. Inside, Felix lies asleep in his bed, his dreams pulling him back to a distant past—his childhood.
The cabin's interior is cramped and sparsely furnished. A single wooden bed with no mattress occupies one corner, while a rickety table supporting a small oil lamp sits in another. A lone chair, its wood worn smooth from use, stands beside it.
Rough-hewn logs form the walls, their gaps stuffed with moss and clay. The absence of windows makes the space feel claustrophobic, and the entire structure creaks ominously with each gust of wind, as if it might collapse at any moment.
As Felix sleeps, his mind conjures vivid images of the city he fled long ago. In his dream, he sees a place where the sun once bathed cobblestone streets in warm light, now shrouded in shadows and despair.
The air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke, swirling like dark tendrils that cling to his skin. Distant wails of the broken echo through narrow alleys, their cries a haunting symphony of loss.
Felix finds himself running through streets that were once vibrant with laughter and life, now engulfed in chaos. Buildings loom overhead like giants, their walls scarred and crumbling. Graffiti tells stories of loss and rebellion in bold, angry strokes.
Flickering flames dance in shattered windows, casting eerie shadows that stretch and twist as if alive. The ground beneath him is slick with debris—broken glass, splintered wood, and crumbled stone—each step a reminder of the destruction that surrounds him.
Suddenly, a woman's desperate grip catches his leg, causing him to fall. Felix looks down to see her body engulfed in flames, her skin blistering and blackening before his eyes. She delivers a haunting message that pierces through the din of chaos:
"You..." she mutters, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
"Your fate has led to our doom."
[BAM]
Felix's eyes snap open at the loud noise, his heart pounding in his chest. The remnants of his nightmare cling to him like a heavy shroud, images of the burning city and desperate faces still vivid in his mind. He sits up in his small wooden bed, the familiar scent of pine and earth filling his nostrils as he tries to calm his racing thoughts.
"What was that?" he mutters, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The rough floorboards are cool beneath his bare feet, their uneven surface digging into his soles.
"It sounded like an explosion. Or was it my imagination?"
As he pulls on his old boots, their leather cracked and worn, a nagging worry creeps into his mind. The boots barely fit, pinching his toes and rubbing against his heels.
"I hope it's not stupid people again trying to prove their bravery by entering this forest."
Compelled by unease, Felix opens the clunky door. The hinges, fashioned from twisted plant roots, creak in protest. He steps outside into the cool morning air. The dense canopy of El Verde forest looms overhead, a tapestry of green and brown that filters the early morning light into dappled patterns on the mossy ground.
Tall ferns brush against his legs as he moves swiftly through the forest, their fronds leaving beads of dew on his pants. Felix followed the lingering Zor energy—energy that tingled at the edge of his senses.
As he approached the source of the disturbance, Felix's eyes widened in amazement. A dark circle marred the forest floor, at least ten feet wide, its edges still smoking. The earth around it was scorched black, and the acrid smell of burnt vegetation filled the air. It was not the result of an explosion, but rather a summoning circle, its intricate patterns etched into the charred ground.
But it was the figure standing near the crater that truly captured his attention.
Near the circle stood a woman who commanded Felix's attention. Her tan skin seemed to glow in the filtered sunlight, and her long black hair flowed gracefully over her shoulders like a silk curtain. Her piercing black eyes seemed to absorb the surrounding light, deep and unfathomable as the night sky.
She wore a soft white kimono overlaid with a haori, the fabric so fine it seemed to shimmer with every movement. A striking red Kalanchoe flower emblem adorned her back, its vibrant hue a stark contrast to the muted colors of the forest.
Beside her stood several men dressed in black kimonos bearing the same emblem, their postures tense and alert. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw at a moment's notice. In front of them loomed a group clad in dark cloaks, their faces obscured by red oni masks that seemed to leer menacingly. The masks were intricately carved, each one unique, with exaggerated features that twisted into grotesque expressions.
Felix stood behind a large tree, its bark rough against his palm as he peered around the trunk. His other hand rested on his hip, fingers drumming against his thigh. His eyes scanned the assembled group and the surrounding area, taking in every detail. He spotted some small, triangular metallic objects near the edge of the circle—items that might hold significance in this unfolding drama.
"I've never seen these people before," he thought, his mind racing with possibilities.
"Interesting," he whispered, the word barely audible even to himself.
The air was thick with tension as he sensed a great Zor energy radiating from the group, but the woman stood out, exuding a calm and commanding aura. He recognized her strength and opted to remain hidden, hoping to glean more about the situation.
One of the men, his face obscured by an intricately carved oni mask, stepped forward. His voice, though low, carried clearly through the still air as he addressed the woman.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Today is the day you die. The Yotsuba clan ends here." He paused, then added,
"That is why you were summoned here by the teleportation ritual."
Felix's brow furrowed in confusion. "What is the teleportation ritual?"
He had never encountered that term before. The metallic triangular pieces surrounding the circle’s edge might be linked to this so-called ritual; after all, teleportation could not be performed using ordinary Zor energy techniques.
The declaration hung in the air for a moment before chaos erupted. The woman stepped forward, her movements fluid and purposeful. She unsheathed her katanas, their silver tsuka gleaming in the filtered sunlight. The blades caught the light, revealing edges as sharp as a winter's frost.
In a blur of motion, she launched herself at her attackers. Her strikes were precise and deadly, slicing through her foes with such fluidity that the oni-masked assailants were unable to react. Delivering a critical strike with deadly precision, she took Felix's breath away. The forest floor, once carpeted with moss and fallen leaves, was now stained crimson.
Felix observes, mesmerized by the cold efficiency with which she dispatches the masked figures. Her movements make him realize,
"She must have trained endlessly in swordsmanship."
The woman stood tall amidst the carnage. Her crimson robes a vivid splash against the lush greenery. Her eyes, cold and unyielding. The site is littered with bodies, their lifeless forms bearing witness to the brutality that has just occurred.
Even her own men appear uneasy. One of them stammers,
"Pardon my intrusion, m'lady, but we could have handled this mess without your intervention."
Her sharp glance sends a shiver through him, leaving him visibly trembling.
"Those who disrespect the Yotsuba shall perish," she replies, her voice echoing chillingly with authority.
Felix feels a spark of respect for her strength, realizing that someone like her exists in the world. As he contemplated his chances in a potential confrontation, the woman's gaze suddenly snapped in his direction.
"How long do you plan to watch me?" she demands, her eyes narrowing.
Felix is taken aback by her keen perception; a mix of surprise and admiration floods through him.
"There's no point in hiding anymore," he thinks.
He steps into view. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, and a heavy silence hangs over the scene, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.
"Who are you?" she asks, suspicion etching her features.
Felix holds her gaze with a serious expression, unwavering. His voice is firm and resolute as he speaks.
"Please leave," he says simply, hoping his tone conveys the gravity of the situation.
The air thickens with tension as she tightens her grip on her katanas, her brow furrowing. A thought flickers in her mind:
"He is not attacking, and I do not sense bloodlust from him. He must be an informer, reporting this to his master."
"I should let him go. Let him inform whoever seeks to destroy the Yotsuba clan that I am not to be trifled with."
Almost imperceptibly, her posture relaxed. With fluid grace, the woman sheathed her katanas in their saya. As she prepared to depart, she fixed Felix with one last menacing stare.
"Remember this well," she said, her voice low and threatening.
"I am Miku Yotsuba, leader of the Yotsuba clan. Pray you never see me again, or you may not live to see another day."
As she utters these words, she studies Felix's face intently. Despite the carnage he has just witnessed, there isn't an ounce of fear in his eyes. Miku deems him a fool for underestimating the danger he faces.
Miku and her men melted back into the forest while Felix remained rooted to the spot, his mind reeling from the encounter. He knew with certainty that his peaceful life in El Verde would never be the same again. He moved to collect the metallic triangular objects scattered on the ground—five in total, one in the center and the other four at the edges.
High atop a mountain peak, an unseen informer crouched among the jagged rocks, clad in a kasa and bandana. The crisp mountain air nipped at his exposed skin as he peered through a lightweight telescope, dark brown eyes scanning the lush landscape below.
His gaze fell upon Felix as he picked up something from the ground, and he watched as Miku Yotsuba departed the scene moments before. The observer had seen everything—the woman’s swift handling of the oni-masked assassins and her tense interaction with a tall man with long black hair and piercing red eyes.
"I guess they failed," the informer whispered.
Unable to discern the details of their conversation, he scribbled furiously on a scrap of parchment. His quill scratched across the rough surface, detailing the elimination of the oni-masked figures and making special note of the red-eyed man, speculating on his potential threat due to possible ties with the Yotsuba clan. He noted that the red-eyed man now possessed artifacts created by Tony Shelby.
The observer completes his note. He carefully rolls the parchment and secures it to the leg of a waiting bird. With a soft whistle, he sends the bird soaring across the vast landscape, its wings cutting through the thin mountain air. As the bird disappears into the distance, the informer begins his careful descent, leaving no trace of his presence on the windswept peak.
Meanwhile, Felix buried the oni-masked men in the forest, taking an hour to complete the grim task. He then decided to return to his small, dimly lit cabin nestled deep within the woods. The ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches casting long shadows across the moss-covered ground. As he approached, the weathered structure came into view, its rough-hewn wooden walls barely holding back the encroaching wilderness.
He opened the door and locked it with a heavy rock, then scrambled to gather his belongings—a thin blanket, some apples and berries he had picked, and a wooden base with a spindle. The cabin had no windows to break the monotony of the timber walls, the flickering light of a single oil lamp illuminating the space. The sagging roof and creaking floorboards bore witness to the structure's weakened state as the sun began to set.
As he moves through the confined room, Felix acknowledges the unease that lingers at the edges of his mind. The musty scent of damp wood surrounds him, a reminder of the forest's slow reclamation. Yet he remains composed, recognizing that Miku and her associates may already be aware of his presence in this secluded area. This understanding settles within him, not as a burden but as an acknowledgment of reality—an unwavering stone in his chest that fortifies his resolve.
Outside, the forest continues its natural processes. Felix recognizes the rustling leaves and distant animal calls as mere sounds, devoid of hidden messages or warnings. He accepts that Miku and her clan may investigate further, preparing himself to respond appropriately to whatever circumstances arise.
Though Miku hasn't confronted him directly, Felix acknowledges the tension without allowing it to disturb his inner tranquility. The small cabin's dimensions are simply a fact of his current situation. He rationally assesses that confronting Miku is not a prudent course of action, given her clan's status among the seven noble families of Higashihara.
Felix focuses on what is within his control: maintaining his stealth and preserving his anonymity. He longs for peace, desperately wishing to keep his identity hidden from the world outside.
As Felix collects his knapsack, crafted from light wood and plant fibers, a dark voice echoes in his mind. It whispers seductively, suggesting that slaying everyone in the country might finally grant him the peace he desires. His hands begin to tremble at the thought, and suddenly, the patter of rain begins outside.
The rhythmic sound triggers a vivid memory in Felix's mind—a blurry vision of his dying father, blood pooling around him on the worn marble floor of their old home. His father's final words strike Felix with the force of a thunderclap:
"Felix, my son, promise me this: never take an innocent life or cause harm. Protect others, help those in need, face dangers with unyielding strength, and live life without regrets."
Tears brim in Felix's eyes as he whispers, "Yes, I promise. The fate that struck us then will never strike me again, Father.”
With a determined breath, he wipes away his tears and steels himself. Gripping his knapsack, he lifts it, preparing to flee. But a heavy knock interrupts him, followed by a deep, ominous voice that seems to seep through the cracks of the cabin walls.
"Despair has arrived at your door."
Silence follows, broken only by the steady patter of rain against the roof.