The air felt heavier now, thick with tension that pressed against Azul's chest. His heart thudded a steady rhythm in his ears, but his grip on the blade in his hand remained firm. The assassin who had addressed him stepped forward, his movements fluid and calculated, like a predator closing in on cornered prey.
Azul adjusted his stance, keeping Ari behind him. "Stay close," he murmured without turning his head, his voice a low growl.
The assassin smiled, a cold, humorless twist of his lips. The first strike came instantly, the Assassins silver dagger aiming directly for his eyes, Azul responded in kind, with a one handed slash, the pale green katana lashing out similar to a frenzied cobra, knocking away the blade only for the Assassin to immediately equip another in his left, before his new weapon could dig itself into Azul a gust of wind slammed into the opponents leg and buckling just for a second.
Azul quickly using his free hand, his fist impacting the assassin in a crude uppercut, the assassin staggered back from the force of Azul's uppercut, his footing momentarily unstable. Azul didn't waste a second, stepping forward to press the advantage, only for a fireball cut off his advance. Azul backstepped quickly, the flames scorching the snowy ground and leaving a trail of blackened grass. His gaze snapped to the caster.
A silver gleam cut through his focus as an assassin lunged from his flank, a short sword slicing through the air, aimed for his ribs.
Azul's katana whipped forward in a sharp arc, the blades clashing with a high-pitched screech. Sparks danced between them as the assassin's weight bore down, driving Azul back a step.
The taller man's strength was overwhelming, his short sword pressing closer with each second. Azul gritted his teeth, muscles coiling to retaliate—but the resistance was unrelenting.
Then, he saw it. The black cloth of the man's garb seemed to writhe, threads tightening as his body contorted. In moments, his form swelled, green, coarse skin splitting through the fabric like a grotesque bloom. Azul's grip tightened instinctively, his mind racing as the creature loomed over him.
What kind of dominion is that?! Azul gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as the mutated assassin's unrelenting strength pushed him closer to the edge. His katana trembled under the pressure, and for a fleeting moment, he spared a glance toward Ari.
She trailed a few paces behind, golden sparks swirling around her like a radiant shield. The energy pulsed and shimmered, solidifying into what looked like rays of sunlight, warding off assassins who dared approach her.
Ari's dominion over light—specifically the sun—was breathtakingly powerful. But Azul knew its limits. She was untrained, her control raw and unrefined compared to his mastery over the wind. Even now, the golden barrier flickered unevenly, its brilliance waning before surging back again.
His grip tightened on the katana as the assassin growled, the green-skinned creature's strength threatening to overwhelm him. Both of them were nearing their limits. The barrier would fail soon, and the assassins would close in. His heart pounded as he fought the urge to abandon the fight and rush to Ari's side. But one misstep here, and the mutated assassin would cleave him to pieces.
All doubt left him as he saw one of the assassins slip past the golden barrier, his dagger poised to strike. The blade glinted in the dim light, aimed unerringly for the girl's skull.
Ari's face twisted with terror; her wide eyes locked on the approaching weapon. She didn't move, frozen in the moment as death closed in, the dagger drawing ever closer.
In a fleeting instant, Azul shifted his stance, loosening his footing but keeping his katana firm. The mutated assassin's overwhelming strength drove the short blade closer, but instead of resisting, Azul let the momentum carry him. The force sent him hurtling backward, the assassin's strength launching him like a projectile—straight toward Ari.
Azul's world spun, the snowy forest blurring around him as his sense of direction slipped away. In this moment, most would be vulnerable—but as a Kazura clan member, Azul always had an advantage on his side. Excitement surged within him, a sharp burst of emotion pouring in from Inariko's influence. The fluctuations of his emotions rippled like a gyroscope, spinning and shifting with intensity. His daemon, ever aware, did its best to track the rapid changes, homing in on the threat. It sensed the direction of Ari's attacker, pointing him out with a focused precision.
Azul tightened his grip around the katana's handle, his anger fueling the surge of mana within him. He swung with all his might, though with no solid ground beneath him, the strike lacked its usual precision. Still, the wind responded to his rage, roaring in a torrential gale that surged in answer to his emotions. The pale green blade followed a spiraling arc, its edge flashing as it met the assassin's form.
But there was no resistance. As if slicing through nothing but air, the katana cleaved the assassin in two, his gear and weaponry falling apart as though they were mere shadows, caught up in the storm's wake, his blood painting the clear snow like a devilish downpour, staining the pristine white with his remains, Ari's breath being caught in her throat, her eyes wide as the assassin was dismantled before her.
Still maintaining the momentum, Azul slipped past the fading golden barrier, his body hurtling toward the three assassins who had failed to bypass it. He hit the ground hard, sliding against the snow, his katana poised for another strike. His gaze locked onto the assassin with the fire dominion, pure confidence fueling his strike.
Before he could close the distance, the other two assassins quickly reacted. They interlocked their short swords, forming a defensive wall just in time to block his attack. Azul's katana met the blades with a sharp clash, the force of it sending a jolt through his arm. The assassins' synchronized defense held steady, preventing him from breaking through.
Ari's gaze lingered on the dissected remains of her attacker, her breath shallow as the weight of the moment threatened to crush her. But her daemon was more vigilant. It pulsed with an urgent awareness that cut through the shock. A flash of danger flared behind her. Ari spun just in time to see the mutated assassin—now sprouting massive wings—charging directly at her, the grotesque appendages cutting through the air with a sickening crack
Azul clashed with the assassins' defense, his swordplay agile like the wind, ever-changing. His katana wormed its way through the assassins' coordinated efforts, striking with precision, poking and prodding at their defense. With each blow, their stance faltered. Slowly, their guard began to crumble—but they weren't entirely helpless. Behind the protection of the two assassins, the third was gathering a fireball, its dark flames swelling rapidly, crackling with destructive power.
Azul's eyes flicked toward the fireball, sensing the growing danger, but he couldn't break free of the defense in front of him. His katana locked against their blades once more, the pressure mounting as the assassins' strength bore down on him.
But he could not be held down here. With a sharp inhale, Azul gathered mana at his feet and commanded the wind. A colossal torrent of wind swirled beneath him, gusting up in a powerful surge. In an instant, he was propelled backward, like a rocket launched into the air.
The wind carried him with explosive force, sending him hurtling away from the assassins' defense, straight to Ari, the mutated Assassin closing in on his sister, his body still mutating further, perhaps accelerated due to its comrade's death.
Ari's breath hitched; the air thick with tension as she gathered every ounce of the fading sunlight. Her fingers crackled with energy, pulling the weak golden beams into a small, compact orb of searing light. Her hands trembled slightly, the strain of wielding her unrefined dominion showing in the way her fingers clenched tighter, forcing the light to coalesce into a sphere. Sweat dotted her brow, and the ball of energy pulsed in her palm, a weighty force that seemed to hum with raw power.
With a sharp exhale, Ari threw the ball with all the force she could muster. The golden sphere surged forward like a comet, trailing light behind it as it hurtled toward the mutated assassin. Her arm shot out, the motion sharp and fluid, but the strain was evident—her breath came in short gasps, the golden orb flickering slightly as it flew.
The ball arced through the air, the golden light reflecting off the snow in brief flashes, its form flattening under the strain, twisting into a disk-like shape. The mutated assassin, oblivious to the changes, continued his charge, but the moment the disk veered off its path, Azul's influence surged through the air. The wind whipped to life at his command, spiraling around the disk, guiding it with uncanny precision.
Ari's heart skipped as she saw the golden disk take a sharp curve, its path now aimed directly at the assassin's eyes. The assassin's focus faltered for just a moment as the disk cut through the air, the light gleaming, and then struck true.
The assassin howled in pain, one of his colossal hands clutching at his eyes, blood dripping down between his fingers. Despite the agony, his charge remained unyielding, and with his remaining hand, he swung his short sword downward, aiming to cleave into Ari.
But before the strike could land, Azul—carried by the wind like a chariot—hurtled through the air, his katana poised and ready. He slammed down between Ari and the assassin, his blade meeting the assassin's strike in a violent clash.
Azul's muscles strained, threatening to tear under the pressure, but this time, he held the advantage. Guided by the torrential flow of wind and the assassin's blinding pain, Azul shifted his position. With a sudden, precise movement, he angled the mutant's blade just right, allowing the short sword to slip past his katana. The blade sliced through the air like a reaper's scythe, narrowly missing the mask above Azul's face.
In that moment of opportunity, Azul darted beneath the colossal assassin, slipping under the deadly arc of the strike, Darkness filled his vision under the shadow of the mutant's overflowing, muscular frame. The oppressive weight of the giant hung above him, but Azul's instincts were sharp. Without hesitation, his katana came to life in his hands, its edge gleaming as it was driven upward with precision. He thrust the blade into the mutant's underbelly, the steel biting through the tough, green skin, carving into its flesh with brutal force. The katana slid deeper, the wind at his back guiding his strike with relentless power, the blade ripping out from his back, its handle preventing it from penetrating further.
Azul would have loved to carve deeper into the mutant, to watch as his blade ravaged the grotesque form before him, but Inariko's presence screamed in his mind—an urgent warning that jolted him from his focus. His instincts flared, and his pulse quickened as the urgency flooded through him. Ari's daemon felt it too, and from the corner of his eye, Azul saw her sprinting toward him, her footfalls quick and determined against the snow.
"Azul… t-the fireball!" Ari's voice cracked the air, panic threading through her words.
The fireball. Azul's mind raced. There was no time.
As the massive assassin collapsed into the snow, a loud bang resonated through the cold air, and the wind began to settle. The air felt heavy with the weight of their actions, the mutant's sickly blood staining the pristine snow beneath it. But Azul's victory was fleeting.
Out of the corner of his eye, Azul saw the fireball—a blinding orb of light racing toward them, its heat almost tangible even from a distance. The explosive energy crackled with the potential to incinerate everything in its path. It was too fast. Too close.
Without thinking, Azul grabbed Ari by the arm, his grip tight as he yanked her toward him. "Get down!" His voice was sharp, instinct overtaking thought.
In one fluid motion, he pulled Ari beneath him, shielding her with his body as he flattened them both behind the mutant's bloodied form. His mask's sharp contours registered the situation, but it didn't help him focus on the chaos. He couldn't see the assassins anymore—only the blinding, scarlet fireball that seemed to dwarf the first. It was as if the assassin had decided to erase them in one fell swoop.
Azul's eyes widened as the surrounding forest ignited in a scarlet hue. It felt like a second sun had descended, burning the world around them. Before the fireball could impact, Azul turned his back to the mutant, pressing Ari closer as its blood soaked into his clothes. The warmth of it was both a strange comfort against the cold and a grotesque reminder of the threat they faced.
The temperature of the air rose instantly, suffocatingly hot. Azul held Ari close, bracing for the inevitable.
It was unbearably hot. The fire's intensity scorched everything in its path.
The mutant's body, their last shield, was consumed almost instantly. The remaining flames swathed over their heads, the sky above darkened by a curtain of scarlet fire. Ari clutched tighter to Azul's chest as the heat pressed in, the edges of their makeshift cover—already charred—beginning to burn away. The acrid scent of smoke and burning flesh filled the air.
But before the fire could completely consume them, a golden barrier shimmered into existence, casting a faint glow. The searing heat dimmed just enough to breathe, a fragile shield holding the worst of the inferno at bay.
Azul looked down at his little sister, his heart tightening as he saw how frail she looked in his arms. She was covered in bruises and scratches, remnants of the battle, but it was the dried tears on her cheeks that caught his attention the most. Those were the same tears she shed after their mother's massacre, an image that still haunted him. She had fought so bravely, but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the weariness in the way her shoulders sagged. Her mana reserves were nearly drained.
Unlike him, Ari hadn't trained endlessly to hone her magic. She had lived her life as a young girl should—free, joyful, untouched by the harsh realities that had shaped his own path. It was the life he had stolen from himself in order to become the protector she never had to be, the one who could stand firm when their mother wasn't there, or when she was gone forever. He sacrificed everything for this role. But now, as he held her in his arms, he felt the weight of that sacrifice more than ever.
Azul pulled Ari closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his, even as the cold crept in around them.
His gaze fixed on the fading golden barrier, now flickering weakly, its light almost spent. The corpse, once a shield, had turned to ash, and it wouldn't be long before the fire would consume them both. 'I won't let that happen', Azul vowed, his fingers tightening on his katana.
The mana surged through his veins, a familiar, comforting force, but it wasn't enough. His mind wandered back to the past—his memories of sweat, hard work, and relentless pain. It had been a lifetime of pushing beyond limits, of never stopping, never showing weakness. But in the midst of that struggle, the small moments between his family kept him going. The laughter shared in their small house. The simple, quiet times with Ari and their mother. Those were the moments that had kept him grounded.
I'll never let someone take that from me, Azul thought, his resolve solidifying like steel. Never. I won't let them down. Not Ari. Not Mother.
With that final proclamation, his mana pulsed—power rippling outward like a storm gathering force. The small pocket of air around them surged as if responding to his will, the fire outside roaring louder, but still, Azul held sway. The air, thick with the heat of the inferno, swirled in tightly controlled chaos, parting to create a shield of gusting wind.
The corpse, already charred, was swallowed completely by the fire's wrath, reduced to ash in mere moments, but it wasn't enough to stop the coming heat. Azul's gale raged against it, lifting Ari gently and guiding her down to the snow. She lay there, pale and still, her small frame seeming more fragile than ever in the face of the storm.
The fire roared, desperate to consume, but Azul's gale only strengthened. The winds howled as they intertwined with the flames, a delicate balance between destruction and preservation. He could feel the heat seeping through his defenses, the air crackling with energy. He gritted his teeth, refusing to yield, knowing that every second counted.
He felt his body burn, his skin roaring in pain, but that was all it was.
Pain.
He had felt it many times before, and like before he would overcome it.
The fireball surged forward, its heat searing the air, but Ike stood unwavering, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. As the flames faded, the scorched ground hissed, leaving only a lingering warmth. In the aftermath, the assassins froze, their eyes wide with disbelief. The fire had passed, but Ike remained standing, the lingering flames clinging to his burnt clothes. The air crackled with tension, the moment suspended in silence.
The fox mask, dirtied by ash, stared into the assassins. Two of them gritted their teeth, weapons at the ready, while the caster who had unleashed the devastating attack lay motionless in the snow—seemingly having expended everything he had.
If only he could see his target still standing, Azul would have relished the fear in his eyes. But with the determination in his heart, he would prefer the man never wake up again.
In the silence, one of the assassins opened his mouth, anger seeping from his expression. But before he could speak—
Clap.
The sharp sound echoed through the forest, cutting through the tension like a blade. Another clap followed, deliberate and slow, each one resonating louder than the last. The assassins turned, their anger faltering as the sound drew closer, accompanied by the crunch of snow beneath measured footsteps.
From the shadowed edge of the trees emerged a figure, their presence commanding the air itself to grow heavy. A young man, draped in dense, dark fabric, stepped out from the forest, his gloved hands coming together in one last, mockingly slow clap. His pale face bore a faint, knowing smile, framed by hair as black as the void. His deep purple eyes gleamed with a dangerous joy, their brightness at odds with the oppressive air surrounding him.
The assassins reacted immediately, dropping to their knees before him. His sharp gaze flicked over the pair, then to the desecrated corpses of their fallen comrades, lingering there for a moment as his smile grew wider.
"Oh my, I expected you to hold out for a little while," he exclaimed, his voice smooth but laced with mockery. "But this... this far exceeds my expectations." The grin stretched across his face, radiant in its joy, yet not a sliver of it touched his eyes.
Azul tensed, his gaze boring into the man, who simply dismissed it with effortless disdain. What unsettled Azul more than the man's disturbing demeanor was the myriads of masks tied to his side. Each one bore the distinct craftsmanship of the Kuzara clan, masks meant only for their
descendants. They hung like grim trophies, still marked with the blood of their previous wearers, their silent testimony amplifying the sinister air around him.
The man seemed to notice Azul's gaze lingering on the masks, his deep purple eyes glinting with amusement.
"Ah, you're wondering about these," he mused, his gloved fingers brushing delicately over the wooden textures. "Don't worry, I followed your traditions well! After all, you people love to hide your faces for life. So, like you, I only borrowed them... once their bodies were cold."
Feelings of disgust surged through Azul's mind, accompanied by Inariko's ever-present whisper: Kill. The spirit's influence was little more than fuel to an already blazing inferno of rage. Azul steadied himself, forcing the seething emotions into focus as he spoke.
"You're the one who cursed my mother. The one who caused the massacre of the Kuzara," Azul proclaimed, his voice sharp with controlled fury.
The man tilted his head, a mock expression of confusion crossing his face, followed by an exaggerated sigh. "Isn't it obvious?" he said, his tone dripping with derision. "I'm practically parading the heads of your clansmen at my side. Though I must admit, Bloodfang was incredibly useful in wiping you pests out. Still..." His lips drooped into a slight frown. "...it was all rather boring."
With a sweeping gesture to the darkening sky, the man began to approach Azul. Mid-stride, his boot landed on the unconscious body of the fire dominion assassin, pressing down with deliberate force. He didn't even spare the fallen soldier a glance, his attention solely fixed on Azul as if the man beneath him was little more than an afterthought.
"That's where you come into play," the man said, his voice light, almost conversational. "It wouldn't take long for me to afflict you with the same condition as your dear old mother." His lips curled into a mocking smirk. "But where's the fun in that? I usually like to at least get my hands a little dirty."
Pointing at Azul, Vaylin beamed, his grin as wide as the crescent moon. "Come on now! Show me what the brood of that accursed assassin can do. Fight me! Pour your pathetic little soul into trying to kill me—I dare you!" His voice rang with a sickly, childlike glee.
But then his expression abruptly shifted. The wide grin vanished, replaced by a chilling blankness, his eyes cold and devoid of light.
"If you even think of running," he said flatly, his voice like a knife slicing through the air, "I'll grab your sister myself. I'll tear her limb from limb right in front of you. Slowly."
The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating and sharp. Then, just as quickly, the grin returned, brighter and more unnerving than before. "Oh! Wait, wait!" he exclaimed, his tone bursting with excitement. "I didn't ask your name earlier, did I? That's so rude of me! Go on—tell me, little warrior!"
Azul took a deep breath, the air around him shifting with his resolve. The gentle breeze stirred into faster, sharper winds, each gust pulling at the fur and bloodstained masks tied to Vaylin's side, making them rattle like restless spirits. The wind grew louder, roaring through the trees, carrying with it the unspoken promise of retribution.
The sudden shift jolted Ari awake, her groggy eyes focusing on her brother's figure. Azul stood tall, a protective wall between her and the monster before them. The look in his bright blue eyes burned with unyielding resolve, even as the storm around him intensified.
"You didn't even have to ask," Azul's voice rang out, cutting through the wind. "Vaylin, I swear— I, Azul, son of Bloodfang and the last warrior of the Kuzara clan, will slay you. I will take your corpse and drive every blade from my clan into it. Then, I'll hunt down your people and hang you from their walls!"
Vaylin responded with a burst of manic laughter, his form convulsing as putrid, amorphous energy exploded from him. The chaos solidified into meter-long claws, jagged and sharp. "That's more like it! Azul, show me—SHOW ME MORE!" His figure blurred, launching toward Azul like a deranged ballista bolt.
Their first clash tore through the forest, erupting in a violent shockwave, watched by the timid gazes of the previous battle's survivors.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Not far away, in the distant expanse of the thick trees, the injured sky groaned as the crack spread further, splitting across the sky, all animals or beasts had vanished, the pure power flowing through the small wound was unimaginable, the world readying for it to crumble.