"Hi people, the author here. I just have a tiny request that even if this story felt boring or bad, that you will still comment what you didn't like about the story. Thanks a lot."
"Nooooo!” a voice wailed, sharp with terror.
"Please, someone help us!” another begged, cracking under the weight of despair.
"Ahhhhhh!” a third shrieked, dissolving into a sob that echoed off the shattered streets.
Raw and desperate cries grabbed at Felix's mind, ripping through the air.
The city blazed all around him, a hellscape of anarchy under a sky choked with heavy ashen clouds.
He smelled smoke, and his body vibrated with the far-off roar of falling stone and bodies.
In spite of the chaos, Felix a young boy ran. His senses were overwhelmed by the burning city around him; he couldn't feel his fingers as his body felt cold.
His breath was lost in the roar of the mayhem. Even though he didn’t react to it, each breath filled his lungs with smoke.
He didn't understand or rather he couldn't understand what was happening.
His medium black hair bounced and his striking red eyes couldn't focus on the path ahead, his pristine dark blue waistcoat hung in tatters, and his pants flapped loosely around his legs, frayed at the hems, his heart hammering like a war drum.
He didn't even know where he was going, the only thing that came to his mind was the screams of people that once lived happy lives.
[Crinkle]
His boots skidded over a carpet of broken glass, shards glinting like cruel stars in the firelight. Pain flared in his soles, but he ignored it, pushing onward.
[Boom… Boom… Boom…]
Explosions rocked the earth in the distance, shaking the cobblestones beneath him. Flames roared from the skeletal remains of buildings, their towering silhouettes looming like silent, wounded giants.
Shattered windows glowed with flickering orange, casting writhing shadows that danced like specters across the debris-strewn ground.
"No! No! Why is this happening?” Felix’s thoughts spiraled, a frantic whirl of questions.
"Why? Why?” His voice broke as he shouted into the void, "Father! Why you, Father?”
[Clatter]
His foot caught on a splintered plank, but he stumbled forward, undeterred. The street was a graveyard of ruin—shards of glass, chunks of crumbled stone, and jagged wooden beams littered the path, each step a testament to the city’s fall.
[Thud]
A hand gripped his ankle, yanking him down. Felix hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs. He twisted around and froze. A woman stared up at him, her body engulfed in flames.
The fire licked at her blistering, blackening skin, her face a mask of agony. Her voice rasped through the crackling blaze, faint but piercing.
"You…” she croaked, her eyes locking onto his.
"No,” Felix whispered, his voice trembling, barely audible over the inferno.
"Your fate has led to our doom!” she screamed, her words a knife through the chaos.
[BOOM]
Felix’s blood-red eyes snapped open, his chest heaving. He bolted upright in his small wooden bed, the familiar scent of pine and damp earth flooding his senses.
The nightmare clung to him like a second skin—burning streets, anguished faces, the woman’s accusation ringing in his ears. He pressed a hand to his chest, forcing his breathing to slow. It wasn’t the first time those visions had haunted him.
The cabin was sparse, a hollow shell of a home. The bed, its frame worn smooth by years of use, creaked beneath him, bare of any mattress—a mark of Felix’s austere life. In one corner, a rickety table held an oil lamp, its flame flickering weakly against the shadows.
A lone chair, its wood polished by countless sittings, stood beside it. The rough-hewn log walls, patched with moss and clay, sealed out the wind but trapped a stifling stillness inside.
No windows pierced the dark, amplifying the sense of isolation. With every gust outside, the cabin groaned, its timbers straining as if they might give way.
"What was that?” Felix muttered, swinging his legs over the bed’s edge. The cold, uneven floorboards bit into his bare feet. "It sounded like an explosion… or was it just the dream?” He tugged on his cracked leather boots, wincing as they pinched his toes, the leather stiff and unforgiving.
"I need to check,” he said aloud, his voice steadying him. He crossed the room in two strides and yanked open the creaky door, stepping into the cool morning air.
The forest of El Verde stretched out before him, its dense canopy weaving a tapestry of shadow and muted light.
Tall ferns brushed his legs as he wove through the trees, their damp fronds slick against his frayed pants.
The crispness sharpened his senses. As he neared the source of the disturbance—a faint tremor he'd felt more than heard—his eyes widened in awe.
A dark circle scarred the forest floor, ten feet wide, its edges still smoldering. The earth around it was scorched black, the air thick with the acrid tang of burnt vegetation. It didn’t look like an explosion’s aftermath—too precise, too deliberate. Felix’s gaze darted to a woman standing nearby, her presence arresting his attention.
Her tan skin glowed faintly in the dappled sunlight, long black hair cascading like silk over her shoulders. Her almond-shaped eyes, black as midnight yet shimmering with an otherworldly depth, seemed to pull the world into their orbit.
She wore a soft white kimono beneath a translucent haori, the fabric rippling with each subtle movement, and a vivid red Kalanchoe flower emblem blazed on her back—a stark contrast to the forest’s muted greens and browns.
Beside her stood men in black kimonos, each bearing the same emblem, their hands resting on sword hilts with quiet readiness. Facing them loomed figures in dark cloaks, their faces hidden behind red oni masks—carved with grotesque, leering grins.
"I’ve never seen these people before,” he thought, his mind racing with possibilities. He slipped behind a large tree, its rough bark scraping his palm as he peered around the trunk.
His other hand rested on his hip, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his waist. His red eyes scanned the scene—the assembled group, the smoking circle, and a cluster of small, triangular metallic objects glinting near its edge. Clues, perhaps, to this unfolding mystery.
"Interesting,” he whispered, the word a breath lost to the wind.
The air thrummed with tension, a great Zor energy radiating from the group. The woman stood apart, her calm and commanding aura a beacon amid the unease. Felix recognized her strength and chose to stay hidden, eager to understand more.
One of the oni-masked men stepped forward, his low voice cutting through the stillness. "Today is the day you die, Yotsuba. Your clan ends here.”
The words hung heavy for a heartbeat before the woman moved, her steps fluid and deliberate. She unsheathed twin katanas from her lower back, their silver tsuka gleaming in the filtered sunlight. The blades flashed, edges sharp as winter’s frost.
[Kshh! Kzzzz! Tch-ching!]
She struck in a blur, her movements a deadly dance. The oni-masked foes crumpled beneath her blades, unable to counter her precision. Blood stained the forest floor red, pooling around their fallen forms.
[Tch-ching!]
She slid her katanas back into their saya, her eyes closed, her breath steady. The carnage lay at her feet, a testament to her skill.
"She’s honed her craft endlessly,” Felix murmured, awe threading his voice. "They never stood a chance.”
The woman stood amid the slaughter, her crimson-stained face and robes vivid against the green. Her eyes opened, cold and unyielding, a storm held in check. Even her men shifted uneasily. One stammered, "Pardon, m’lady, but we could’ve handled this.”
She turned her head slightly to the right, her sharp glance silencing him. "Those who disrespect the Yotsuba perish,” she said, her voice mature yet sweet, laced with icy authority.
Felix watched, impressed. "I haven’t seen such strength in years,” he thought. "How would I fare against her?”
Then, abruptly, she shifted her head to the left, her gaze piercing the elevated spot where Felix hid. "How long do you plan to watch?” she called, her tone a challenge.
"She’s incredible,” Felix thought, stepping into view. "She even sensed my gaze. Guess I’ve lost my edge over the years.” The air reeked of blood, a heavy silence broken only by the rustle of leaves.
She studied him—a man with long, unkempt black hair and red, hunter-shaped eyes. His dirt-stained white shirt hung half-tucked, his navy pants marked by survival's wear. "His Zor aura is off the charts," she thought. "And those crimson eyes—what are they? I have never seen someone with red eyes."
"Who are you?” she demanded, suspicion sharpening her words.
Felix met her stare, his resolve firm. "Please leave,” he said, his voice steady and weighted with quiet authority.
She gripped her katanas tighter, her brow furrowing. "Despite his immense aura, there’s no bloodlust,” she mused silently. "An informer, perhaps, reporting to his master about what happened here. Fighting him might not be wise—I could endanger my samurai. If he’s an informer, he likely knows the Yotsuba’s state and the value of these warriors.”
"I hope she understands,” Felix thought, closing his eyes briefly, "because I’m starving and need to find breakfast.”
Her stance softened, one hand easing from her katana hilt with practiced grace. She fixed him with a final glare as he opened his eyes. "I am Miku Yotsuba, leader of the Yotsuba clan,” she said. "Pray you never cross my path again, or you won’t live to see another day.”
She noted his calm demeanor, the lack of fear in his red eyes. "No tremble, even now,” she thought. "He’s an idiot indeed.”
Miku turned, her men following, and they vanished into the forest’s embrace. Felix lingered, his mind buzzing. "Well, that was a weird morning,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
His gaze fell on the bodies of the dead oni men. "Let’s bury them,” he said firmly. "I don’t want this near my home.”
He leapt down from his perch and first gathered the metallic triangles—five in total, one central, four at the edges. "What are these?” he murmured, turning them over in his hands. Their surfaces were cool, etched with faint, unfamiliar runes.
High atop a mountain, an informer crouched among jagged rocks, the cold biting his skin beneath a kasa and bandana. His dark brown eyes peered through a telescope, tracking Felix as he collected the strange objects.
He’d witnessed it all—the woman’s swift execution of the oni-masked assassins, her tense exchange with the tall man with piercing red eyes.
He lowered the telescope and pulled a piece of paper from his nagagi. "They failed,” he whispered, scribbling hastily. He noted the oni men’s demise and Felix’s possession of artifacts—crafted by Tony Shelby, no less.
"You better deliver this message as fast as you can,” he said, securing the note to a bird’s leg.
"Don’t worry,” the bird chirped back, "I’ll get this to the master quick as I can.”
"Cuckoo,” it called, wings beating as it soared into the graying sky.
The informer descended the peak, leaving no trace of his presence.
Felix finished burying the bodies, the forest quiet save for the whisper of leaves. He trudged back to his cabin, the sky now bruised with clouds. Locking the door with a heavy rock, he sank onto his bare bedframe.
"Now, finally, I can eat my breakfast—well, it's lunch now. Or maybe dinner? Well, it doesn't matter," he said to himself, pulling out a handful of mushrooms he had gathered along the way. "And I found a guava!" His mouth watered as he eyed the fruit, its green skin promising a burst of sweetness.
"But that Miku woman—she’s Yotsuba, one of Higashihara’s noble clans,” he mused, glancing up at the sagging roof. "I heard about them when I came here. Warned not to meddle in their affairs. Should I be worried she found my hideout?”
He bit into the guava, juice dribbling down his chin. A memory flickered—a man dying, blood pooling beneath him.
"Felix, my son,” his father’s voice rasped in his mind, "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.”
Felix lowered his head, resting his right elbow on his knee. His hand pressed against his eyes, holding back the sting of tears. "I promise, Father,” he whispered, voice breaking. "I won’t repeat the same mistake.” He wiped his face, the guava’s sweetness souring on his tongue.
A rustling stirred outside the door—slow, deliberate.
[Knock]
The sound pulsed faintly, a heartbeat in the silence.
[Knock]
The door shivered under the weight of the sound.
[Knock]
The third boomed, rattling the cabin’s frail bones. A deep, distorted voice rasped through the wood, each word dripping with menace.
"Despair… has… arrived… for… you…”
[Booomm!!]
A blast of Zor energy slammed into the roof, splintering the cabin into a chaos of flying timber and dust. Felix dove to the floor, shielding his head as the world erupted around him.
[Drip-drop]
Rain began to fall, cold drops seeping through the wreckage. Amid the debris, a shadow loomed—tall, cloaked, and radiating a red Zor aura. Orange eyes glinted faintly beneath a hood, locking onto Felix with chilling intent.
"Who… are you?” Felix choked out, scrambling to his feet, the guava rolling forgotten into the ruin.
The figure tilted its head, silent, as the rain thickened into a downpour. Lightning split the sky, illuminating him.
To be continued…
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