On the fateful day Yashiro ventured to the Devil's Peak, the last person he expected to encounter was his trusted general and friend, Saro. Shocked by the sight and disoriented by the infinite darkness surrounding him, Yashiro asked the most obvious question:
Yashiro: "Where the hell am I?"
Saro: "You are in your own world, 'master.'"
Yashiro: "Saro? What are you doing here? When did you come here, and how?"
Saro: "You never noticed, did you?"
Yashiro: "Noticed what?"
Saro: "I'm not a real person, Yashiro."
Yashiro: "Then what are you?"
Saro: "I am the reason your leg hurts so much. You've been fighting it for too long."
Yashiro: "I'm completely confused right now. What you're saying doesn't make any sense to me!"
Saro: "I have something more important to tell you."
Yashiro: "Then tell me."
Saro: "By jumping into the heart of the volcano, it's only natural that you're going to fall."
Yashiro: "I jumped a few minutes ago and was teleported here."
Saro: "That's where you're wrong."
Yashiro: "How?"
Saro: "You weren't teleported anywhere. This is your subconscious. The effects of the Devil's Peak bring you into your mind to fight the source of your weakness—your own power."
Yashiro: "I still don't get it! Tell me what the hell is going on here!"
Saro: sighs "Have you ever noticed that each time I wasn't around, your leg hurt, but when I was, like I am now, it didn't? Can you tell why that is?"
Yashiro: "So you're saying you're a projection in my mind, an extension of my power?"
Saro: "Correct."
Yashiro: "But back then, at the Cursed Pond, I clearly saw you chop some heads off."
Saro: "That was you. I had no way of participating in that battle."
Yashiro: "That doesn't make sense."
Saro: "Ever noticed how when you were walking with me, no one ever talked to or even looked at me? That's because I was never there in the first place."
Yashiro: "I don't exactly recall."
Saro: "When you were returning to the city after the battle at the Cursed Pond, Zani told you to shut up, and you asked why he only said your name. It was because, to him, you were talking to yourself. But he knows what you have inside you, which is why he didn't ridicule you. And I wouldn't talk any further if I were you."
Yashiro: "Why?"
Saro: "Because what you're experiencing right now is severe time dilation. Time here flows normally for you, but from your perspective, your body is falling in slow motion. If you don't make it in time, your body will fall, and you will melt."
Yashiro: "So what exactly do I have to do?"
Saro: "Why do you think I'm here?"
Yashiro: "To fight me?"
Saro: "I am your weakness, as well as your power. You don't know how to use it—you only suppress it. That's why you're having trouble with it."
Yashiro: "So I have to defeat you to break free from here and unlock your powers as mine?"
Saro: "Yes."
Yashiro: "How did I even gain these powers?"
Saro: "In your leg, there's a core called the 'Ember Heart,' which is directly linked to your muscles, cardiovascular system, nervous system, and heart. It's a sphere made of highly compressed dark demonic energy, and I am the manifestation of it. Now, come at me before you get melted in the fiery abyss below you!"
A sense of urgency loomed over the shifting subconscious realm as Yashiro grappled with the gravity of Saro's revelations. The hazy environment, a manifestation of his own psyche, crackled with latent energy. Yashiro's heart raced with a mix of trepidation and resolve, the impending confrontation with his own power looming like an ominous storm on the horizon. Saro, the enigmatic projection embodying Yashiro's hidden strength and vulnerability, morphed into a nebulous form that mirrored the turbulent essence of the young ruler's psyche. The very air buzzed with an unspoken tension as both Yashiro and his projection readied themselves for a battle that transcended the physical realm—a clash between the embodiment of his strength and his own struggle for control. The weight of the impending conflict pressed heavily upon Yashiro's consciousness, urging him to confront the source of his inner turmoil head-on.
Yashiro: "Bring it on, SARO!"
Saro: "Here I come," Saro said softly.
Their swords clashed in a resounding chorus, echoing the tumultuous inner conflict raging within Yashiro's mind. Saro, a shadowy silhouette etched with glowing malevolence, danced with eerie grace. Each stroke of his blade emanated a dark aura, accentuating his fluid movements. Yashiro gritted his teeth, his grip on the sword tightening, trying to match Saro's rapid strikes. His adversary's attacks were relentless, bolstered by an otherworldly energy that laced every slash and parry.
As the battle intensified, Yashiro's movements grew increasingly erratic, a manifestation of his faltering control over the latent power churning within. He could feel the whispers of that energy, an unyielding force threatening to surge forth and devour him. With each passing second, the struggle for dominance over his own abilities intensified. Yashiro, struggling to contain the rising tide of raw potential, pushed himself to the brink, attempting to channel and harness the mysterious force coursing through him.
Saro's dark-enhanced strikes pressed harder, exploiting Yashiro's wavering control. The oppressive aura surrounding Saro bolstered his defenses, turning aside Yashiro's strikes effortlessly. The battle teetered on a razor's edge, a delicate balance between Yashiro's desperate attempts to control his untamed power and Saro's calculated exploitation of that very vulnerability. Their clash echoed through the nebulous expanse of Yashiro's subconscious, the outcome uncertain as their swords continued their relentless dance amidst the ethereal chaos.
Yashiro: "You're too strong!"
Saro: "I'm only as strong as you allow me to be."
Yashiro: "What does that mean?"
Saro: "It means that the more power you release without control, the more I can use it against you."
Yashiro: "Ah, I see. Thanks for pointing that out. I just need to figure out how not to give it away."
Saro: "You better hurry. You're ten meters from the lava, and your skin has already started to burn off."
Yashiro: "I know, I can feel it. Prepare yourself. You're going down!"
Yashiro's realization dawned like a shard of light piercing the darkness. He ceased his frenzied attacks, drawing upon newfound focus. The battlefield around him, an amalgamation of his mind's labyrinthine expanse, seemed to quiver in response to his resolve.
"Control," he muttered under his breath, a mantra to anchor his thoughts. His sword shimmered, reflecting his inner turmoil, as he wrestled with the tempestuous power seething within. With each breath, he honed his concentration, seeking to corral the unbridled energy coursing through his veins.
Saro, the shadowy embodiment of Yashiro's struggles, observed with an eerie calmness, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "You've found a spark of understanding. But can you tame the fire that rages within?" Saro's voice echoed, both taunting and challenging Yashiro.
Yashiro's grip on his sword shifted, his stance morphing into one of resolute determination. He attempted to channel the surging energy, bending it to his will rather than succumbing to its chaotic pull. Gradually, a shimmering aura enveloped him, a sign of his burgeoning mastery over the tempestuous force.
Saro lunged forward, his strikes infused with an ominous darkness, seeking to exploit any fissure in Yashiro's control. Yet, Yashiro met each assault with newfound finesse, his blade a testament to his growing command over the volatile energy dwelling within.
The once chaotic battle now took on an orchestrated rhythm, the clash of swords harmonizing with Yashiro's newfound control. The atmosphere crackled with an arcane intensity as Yashiro fought to subdue the unruly force, refusing to succumb to its malevolent whims.
Their swords danced in a complex symphony, an intricate display of Yashiro's growing mastery over the volatile energy that threatened to consume him. With each calculated move, he chipped away at Saro's advantage, each strike a testament to his burgeoning resolve and control. Finally, Yashiro struck the finishing blow.
Yashiro: exhales "You're done, Saro."
Saro: "Looks like you did it."
Yashiro: "I think so too."
Saro: "Very soon, you will wake up, but you're very close to the lava. You need to be careful how you escape—you'll have only a fraction of a second to react."
Yashiro: "I'm sure I'll find a way."
Saro: "That's good then."
Yashiro: "Will I ever see you again?"
Saro: "Possibly. I don't know. I'll be going now."
With those final words, Saro's form began to dissolve into the surrounding darkness, leaving Yashiro alone in the eerie stillness of his subconscious. A sense of calm washed over him, yet he could feel the new powers surging through his body, unfamiliar and untamed. The energy pulsed within him, but he wasn't sure how to harness it just yet.
As the time passed, Yashiro felt himself slowly regaining consciousness. The darkness around him began to fade, replaced by the intense heat of the real world. His eyes snapped open just as he realized the perilous situation he was in—falling toward the boiling lava below.
Instinct kicked in, and with the fraction of a second he had, Yashiro channeled his newfound power. His body reacted on its own, dark wings erupting from his back, propelling him upward just before he touched the searing surface. The force of his sudden flight created a powerful gust of wind, scattering the molten rock and sending shockwaves through the surrounding area.
Meanwhile, back at the ship, the sailor and his crew were under attack by a band of Morfiem Empire scouts. Despite their best efforts, they were unable to defend themselves. The situation seemed dire when a loud explosion echoed from the direction of the volcano. Everyone froze, their eyes drawn to the mountain.
The volcano had begun to rage, erupting with violent force and ejecting large chunks of flaming debris in all directions. One massive piece of rock hurtled toward the ship, threatening to crush it and everyone aboard.
The captain of the ship closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable impact. But instead of the shattering of wood and screams, he heard the sound of rock being obliterated. When he opened his eyes, he saw Yashiro hovering in the air, his eyes entirely black, veins glowing with dark energy, and enormous wings keeping him aloft.
With swift and lethal precision, Yashiro unleashed his newfound powers on the Morfiem scouts, cutting them down with ease. His movements were a blur, each strike precise and devastating. The scouts had no chance—within moments, they were all dead, their bodies littering the deck.
As Yashiro decapitated the last of the invaders, he descended to the ship's bow. But as soon as his feet touched the wooden deck, the effects of his power ceased, and he collapsed from exhaustion.
Sailor: "Everyone! Carry Master Yashiro inside! We must treat his wounds immediately!"
The crew: "Yes, sir!"
The crew rushed to lift Yashiro and carry him inside the ship's quarters. They laid him gently on a bed, carefully inspecting his body for injuries.
Sailor: "What are all of you doing? Why aren't you treating him?"
Crew member: "But sir, there aren't any wounds to treat. Come look at him. He's completely unharmed."
Sailor: "My goodness, you're right. But how? He must have gone through a difficult and painful journey, yet there's not even a hair out of place on his head."
Crew member: "And sir, what was that form of his earlier?"
Sailor: "I have no idea. I've never seen anything like it before. He didn't even look human in those few seconds—you saw how effortlessly he killed those scumbags. Regardless, we're not allowed to ask any questions about this. We're going to head back as soon as possible. You, young man, pick a partner and stay with the Emperor in case he wakes up or needs anything. Everybody else, raise the sails! We're heading back to Uchimasu this instant!"
The crew: "UNDERSTOOD, SIR!"
The crimson hues of twilight painted the horizon as the ship cut through the waters, slicing the tranquil ocean with its steady prow. Inside, the sailors moved with purpose, their footsteps echoing against the wooden deck as they tended to their enigmatic young Emperor.
Yashiro lay resting, nestled amid the comforting embrace of the ship's quarters. His features remained serene, untouched by the perilous journey he had just endured. The crew, in silent awe, stood around him, their curiosity tempered by a respectful distance.
As the crew continued their discussions in hushed tones, the ship plowed through the waves, carrying the Emperor and his guardians back to the Uchimasu Empire. The sailor issued commands with precision, ensuring their swift return to their homeland.
In the depths of the vessel, two young crew members remained vigilant, standing as sentinels beside the slumbering Yashiro. Their duty was clear: to attend to the Emperor's every need, to be his steadfast companions until his awakening.
The sails billowed, guided by the winds that whispered tales of the bewildering events witnessed at the Devil's Peak Volcano. With each passing moment, the vessel sailed onward, cutting through the boundless ocean on its journey back home.
And as the ship embarked on its homeward voyage, the enigma of Yashiro's newfound powers lingered in the minds of the crew, a testament to the mysteries that shrouded their young Emperor.