In the desolate aftermath of the Aserian Island's explosion, an eerie stillness enveloped the fragmented landscape. The once-thriving ecosystem now lay in tatters. Nature's beauty replaced by the sound of raging waves rushing in to fill the void. The air thick with a haze of ash, polluting the waters. Its surface littered with hundreds of overturned fish, adding onto the desolate atmosphere.
As the sun started to peek above the horizon, casting a melancholic glow, the event would soon attract people all over who felt the immense shockwaves.
Word quickly spread. From common shore-bound villages, to kingdoms, and later, continent-wide. Dubbed 'The Aserian Disaster' along the way, it was a tragedy that was believed no one could have survived if anywhere near, let alone on the island—But was that true?
Following the explosion, a long way down into Yuna River, emerged a burned right hand. It grabbed desperately at anything it could grapple onto. Finally, it found a moss-covered ledge and its owner pulled himself up.
Clothes drenched, third-degree burns from head to toe, and fueled only by adrenaline, the mysterious man staggered like a reanimated corpse towards a nearby tree. Every small movement he made only furthered the excruciating pain he felt.
Only making it part way, all he could do was fall onto his knees with a heavy thud. Re-calibrating himself, he shoved his fingers down his throat, forcing himself to throw up something: A slimy and grooved orb, drenched in his own saliva.
“Gus…pane… Are you… Alright?” The man uttered whilst falling to the ground, every word taking a noticeable toll to say.
In response, the slimy ball started to elongate until Guspane revealed himself. The worm immediately crawled its way towards the man on death's door. Its mournful cries as it licked the man's face showed of nothing but their pure bond.
“Heha…ha… I'm glad… You're okay… Sorry I—ACK!—Used your own… Cursed Technique on you…” The man's voice came out raspy and hoarse. Turning his attention to his burned arm in front of him, he raised it to see just how fatal his wounds are.
“Even though I reinforced every inch of my body with soulura, the damage is still too much. Damn… I can feel my consciousness slipping away…” The man thought to himself, succumbing to his injuries, only to slam his remaining hand on the ground. “NO! I have to keep going!”
He struggled to push himself back up with only one arm. It shook and wobbled, almost bucking under the pressure, but with the support of a knee, he rose to his feet.
As he approached the nearby tree, the man could only repeat to himself in his head: “Have to stop the council… Have to stop the war… Have to stop th—!” Only to trip on a rock, stumbling down again.
Now crawling to the base of the tree, the man rested on the trunk to try and regain any strength he could. Yet, despite his indomitable soul and resolve, he simply could not muster even an ounce of strength.
As his vision blurred into total darkness, the only thing he could think of was what waited for him after death. The warm embrace of his family he once had—Or the cold embrace of the void...
As the last remnants of his consciousness began to flutter away, a young boy would stumble upon him only minutes later. His left eye carried a peculiar symbol: A mandela-like design, with intricate patterns converging into the central point of his red iris.
Meanwhile, on the moonlit Enohayen Mountains, stood Dama's cabin, shrouded in a peaceful silence. Within, the crackling embers from the fireplace caste a soft, flickering glow. Bathing the inside in a warmth only the bitter cold of the mountain could rival.
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Dama himself lay sprawled on the wooden floor, this time upon Nina's soft body as she cuddled with him. His occasional snores were in sync with the snot bubble he unknowingly created.
Mumu sat motionless on the floor beside the bed, his head drooping, like it was some lifeless giant stuffed animal.
However, on the bed, Giona squirmed beneath her blanket. Beads of sweat mixed with tears rolled down her face. High-pitched yelps of fear escaped her lips on occasion.
Soon, she shot up, her piercing screams filling the entire cabin. Her breaths came in frantic gasps as the haunting visage of a hooded figure, their eyes glowing an ominous crimson, lingered in her mind.
Startled from his deep slumber by both Giona's screams and the popping of his snot bubble, Dama immediately rushed to the bed, albeit half awake, with Mumu and Nina in tow. Looking around to see what was wrong, nothing of concern struck him. Only a shaking and crying Giona, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Whazzat!? G-Giona? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Dama exclaimed, his words slurring a bit as he tried to decipher what happened through his dopey haze.
"Dam-ma…" Giona muttered, her voice trembling with a crippling fear.
“I-It's okay Giona. You had a nightmare, didn't you… Must have been an unpleasant memory too, I'm so sorry…” Dama said, taking Giona into a gentle embrace and patting her head in an attempt to soothe her. “I'm here and it's only me here… You're safe here. Just breathe… and focus on me.”
Hearing his gentle voice, Giona tightly clung onto Dama.
As the minutes passed and the tranquility of the mountain took back hold of the atmosphere, Dama could feel Giona's shaking winding down. “Better?” He asked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine care.
Sniffing and taking a deep breath, Giona looked up and nodded, a grateful smile etching itself onto her face.
“That’s good. Here, let me clean you up a little bit,” using his mother's handkerchief on the desk, Dama wiped Giona's tears away, “There! You're good to go.”
Looking out the window, he reveled in the shining sphere up in the sky, illuminating the room with its glow. “We still have some time left before sunrise, you should get some more rest. Granny Tsubasa always said it's the best medicine for anything!”
Yawning himself, Dama stood up to go back into his deep slumber, "Goodnight Gio—" but was stopped by a sudden tug of his sweater. He turned to find Giona, her teary eyes still reflecting traces of unease.
“Dama…” Giona murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
After a brief silence between them, while Dama was trying to figure out what she wanted, Giona would pat the bed whilst tugging harder on his sweater.
“Giona…?” Dama contemplated her gesture. The obvious answer was clear, but a part of him tried to deny it, mainly from embarrassment.
Yet, he simply couldn't ignore the look of complete vulnerability and solemn plea for support on Giona's face. Dama never knew a human could pull off the ‘Puppy Dog Eyes’ effect until now. It felt like not only was she tugging on his sweater, but also tugging on an invisible string attached to Dama's heart.
Now that the two were in the same bed, Dama felt a rising warmth starting to stir within his body. While both he and Giona were sharing one blanket, the rate at which he felt was abnormal. It was something else he couldn't quite decipher.
As the blush of embarrassment crept upon his cheeks, a silent betraying hue that seemed to intensify the heat within him, he realized; It was the overwhelming awareness of intimacy in the moment. "This—This is new... It's alright though, Giona's just scared is all. All I need to do is fall asleep! Yeah, that's all I need to do..."
Trying to calm himself down by shifting himself, Dama accidentally met Giona's gaze, who smiled with nothing but sparks of joy in her eyes.
All Dama could do was avert his gaze in response. His attempt at staving off his embarrassment failed tenfold. The attempt would soon hit rock bottom when Giona nestled closer to Dama, oblivious to the practical emotional torture she was causing.
Resting her head on his chest, she could feel his heart racing, and even though she didn't know why, it made her happy. Relishing in that happiness, she felt the need to get even closer. The closer she got, the faster she could feel Dama's heart beating, causing her to giggle.
Dama on the other hand has never felt such a contradictory feeling before. The need to get away from the situation was overpowering. Yet, a part of him wanted to stay like that as long as he could embracing Giona, but couldn't figure out why.
Eventually accepting his fate, Dama gently wrapped his left arm around Giona. “Jeez, even if I could, moving right now would disturb her peace… Guess I'll have to deal with this until sunrise…”
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Next: (Chapter 17) Soul Divination Council Chairmen