Echoes of a Lost Bond (Pt. II)

The battle felt endless. Every time Ikuro swung his sword, the Doom evaded it with impossible speed. Its attacks weren’t wild like most undead…no, they were precise, calculated. As if the creature still retained the instincts of a trained warrior.

Steel clashed against claw under the moonlight, the sharp sound slicing through the deathly silence of the forest. Ikuro’s breath grew ragged, sweat mixing with dust and blood as it dripped down his face. But amid the chaos, something gnawed at the back of his mind.

The Doom… it wasn’t attacking Sarah or Garel.

It was only after him.

Ikuro narrowed his eyes, dodging another swift strike before stepping back, panting.
Why only me…? Is it because I approached first? No… there’s more to it than that…

Suddenly, the Doom staggered. Its rotting body trembled violently before collapsing to its knees.

“Wh…y… are… you… with… her…?”

The voice was rough, broken, barely audible over the wind rustling through the trees. One skeletal hand slowly rose and pointed, stiffly, toward Sarah.

Ikuro’s gaze snapped toward her, standing a short distance behind him.

“I found her,” he said hoarsely. “Alone… in rags.”

The Doom was silent. Its glowing eyes dimmed as it stared at Sarah, almost… softening. Then it gave a small, slow nod.

“I… see… Thank… you… for… sa…ving… her…”

Ikuro’s breath caught in his throat.

That voice... those words…

He speaks… like a human.

“Who… are you?” Ikuro asked, though a part of him already feared the answer. Feared what it might reveal.

With effort, the Doom lifted its head, as if carrying the weight of an entire lifetime.

“I… am… her… fa…ther… Ryuan… Alon…so… Spheir…”

And the world around Ikuro… shattered into stillness.

Spheir…?

Something in his chest twisted violently.

That name, it wasn’t just a word. It stirred something deep within him. Something old. Something buried.

Blurred memories flickered at the edge of his mind. Faint voices. Faces distorted by time. Emotions that didn’t have names. He couldn’t remember the kingdom he came from. He didn’t know who he used to be.

But that name…

He had heard it before. Somewhere. Sometime.

His chest tightened as the air around him thickened. It wasn’t fear. It was something more haunting, like a door in his mind was trembling, ready to burst open.

He looked back at the Doom…no, not a monster. Not anymore.

He saw someone else now.

A man.

A father.

The creature reached out again, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh… kid… will… you… help… me…?”

Ikuro stood frozen. His sword lowered slightly, arms trembling.

The night wind brushed past him, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and drying blood. The whole world had gone quiet, as if it had stepped back to give space to something sacred.

“…What do you want me to do?” he finally asked, his voice heavy, almost cracking.

The Doom looked at him one last time. And in the ruined mess of its face… a hint of a smile.

“Set… me… free…”

Ikuro’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

He understood.

And now… he had to choose.