Stigmata

It was the first time I had ever witnessed anything like it.

As the words left his mouth, the tattoo on his arm glowed a bright crimson light. Even standing away from him, I could feel the intense heat coming from Arja, and the steam rushing from his body was the most definite proof of it. From the tattoo then emerged a single dark, blood-red lump. It was small, only about the size of a corn kernel, but it was already pumping with life.

And it wasn’t the only one. One, two, ten, fifty. The number of lumps growing from Arja’s arm was still rising to no end. As they grew, the lumps merged together, creating a crackling hot surface, as if there was an active volcano on his body.

“Hrahhhh!”

After Arja’s scream, a bright, red explosion occurred. The heat was so immense, it even blew me to the other side of the room. But I was still able to see it.

Once the red parts had merged enough, they solidified into one whole being — a slick, glowing metallic head of a dragon. His body had also adorned some kind of armor of the same material, with a burning red color running all over his torso and legs. The armor had shoulder blades as large as a hawk’s wings, but it also had a singular wing in itself, situated right on the left half of Arja’s back.

“Ready, Ren? Let’s fly!”

“H-Huh? Wait, don’t drag… Ahhhhhh!”

Before I knew it, Arja had already taken my hand (by the wrist). On his back burst out another wing, and only when I had seen it up close did I realize the wings themselves were also metal, considering its rigid edges. And yet, Arja could flap them as freely as he wanted, as if they were a part of him instead of what could only be described as props for a costume.

A blast of hot wind blew over me, and we took off to the sky.

If anyone had told you about flights in fairy tales, they were magical events. Seeing the world zip over you, how small everything was compared to you, feeling as if you could grasp the whole scenery in your own hand, it would be something that you’d remember your whole life.

Well, those were all lies.

All I could feel was the insanely painful wind against my face. Not only were we flying so fast that each gust was like a razor cutting straight into me, this dry desert climate had also meant that the wind carried an immense heat. Meaning that these razors were freshly forged, carrying the entire flame of the smith directly onto my skin. With each second that passed, I felt more and more miserable, but my scream had already been drowned out by the sound of the wind shrieking and Arja’s armor clanking under the pressure.

Our landing wasn’t any prettier, either. The stop was as sudden as the start, and before I knew it, my head had already been planted on the hot sands — screaming hot, as a matter of fact.

“What’s the big idea!” I shouted in both pain and anger.

“Ah…. should have told you to be quiet,” Arja shook his head, letting out a sigh. “We really don’t want to be causing too much attention yet.”

“What do you…”

“Look.”

Following his gesture, I soon stopped my mouth from moving completely.

Before us were mounts of corpses. Soldiers in leather mail lay around motionless, their golden hue made it difficult to notice among the desert sand. And from the looks of the red stripes on their armors, I could assume that most, if not all of them were people of Drought.

Meanwhile, fighting them were indeed dozens of “something”. But what kind of “dozens” was the fact that scared me the most.

All of them looked like crocodiles. Emphasizing on the “looked like”. Even if the snout and fangs were the same, these weren’t like any other crocodiles that I had seen in my life — their entire body was slick, covered in some sort of slimy, dense blackish purple liquid. Their eyes were blood-red with rage, while their limbs were developed enough to make them stand on two hind legs. The front claws in particular were long, thin like a reaper’s scythe, yet they still didn’t give as much of a deadly feel as getting snapped by those terrifying jaws.

“Eh, so it’s Kalas this time, huh?”

I couldn’t see Arja’s expression through the armor, but I could tell that he was feeling confident.

“What… are those?” I asked.

“Magical creatures that spawn from Drizzle’s summoning system. That’s the short version, at least,” Arja answered. “And we call those ‘Stigmata’. These ones in particular are called Kala, by the way.”

“Stigmata…” I mumble.

“Meanwhile, this armor is an application of the Stigmata,” continued Arja. “In that, by housing one of these creatures in our bodies, it manifests as a sign, and through a chant, you can invoke it in the form of armor. However, these Stigmata aren’t just a power boost: if you’re not careful, it will eat you from the inside out, and the end result is becoming one of those monsters yourself.”

My breaths grew shorter with each truth the young man revealed to me.

“So what you mean is… You’re basically implanting these monsters into people?”

“Only a few chosen ones, but yes,” Arja nodded. “This is our trump card against Drizzle’s countless summons. Four great warriors bearing the Stigmata’s power and making them their own, donning their armor to protect the nation from invaders beyond the dried-up ocean. That is us, the Deliverers.”

“Now, as for you…”

Before he could continue, however, another giant gust of wind had interrupted our conversation, sending a raging sandstorm around the area. Even if I was only new to this world, I knew that this was no natural occurrence — this felt like a cyclone constantly sucking us in, instead of just a normal sandstorm that would blow us away.

And I was right. While we were still blinded by the sandstorm, I could hear a shriek in the air, as if the wind itself had become a blade. That shriek clashed with Arja’s armor, who had moved just in time to block for me from behind, sending sparks along with sand all over.

As the sandstorm settled, I could finally see our perpetrator.

Gliding in the air was a humanoid creature, but its avian appearance was no question. Large, red wings. White feathers on its torso and legs. A bird’s head. But the arms and legs were definitely humans, opposable thumbs and all.

“Tch, no one told me there’s a Garuda here as well!” Arja kicked the ground in frustration. But before he could complain more, the beasts had already attacked.

From afar, the Kalas had made their move. Opening their mouths, the monsters charged up a multitude of dark, purple energy orbs. Meanwhile, from the air, the Garuda had already whipped up a few more of its wind blades, causing Arja to step in immediately. With his dragon head on his arm, the young man snapped away the blades of wind before any of them could touch us.

But I knew that was only a temporary solution at first. We were surrounded, and unless…

“Ren! I know it’s tough, but do me a favor, will ya?”

Yup, I knew that this was gonna happen.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll have to fight this bird in the air, so for now, do as I say! Raise your hand with the Stigmata sign!”

“Wait, so this thing of mine is…”

“Yup! Just do it!”

I followed the instructions. However, like Arja said, it needed a chant to activate. All I was doing was just trying to pose a cool look, and failing that miserably.

“What now?” I called out.

“Just speak whatever!” I could hear more sparks flying more and more frequently.

“Huh?”

“The Stigmata feeds on yer desires! I can’t tell what ya want, so yer gonna need to figure that out on yer own!”

“Well that’s fucking useless!” I shouted in frustration.

Of course, I knew what my desire was. All this time, there was only a single desire that I had. But manifesting it into words… No, I had to.

No matter how embarrassing it was to admit it out loud. No matter how inappropriate it was to affirm it now. It was the only thing that had kept me going until now.

“I…”

From afar, I could hear the sound of the energy orbs charging. They were sucking in their own wind and sands. It would be a blast like no other.

There was an explosion. The orbs had left the Kalas’ mouths.

“I seek the warmth of family! Vritra, unleashed!”