Free Fall

The plaza was vast and eerily quiet aside from the shallow breaths of those facing off. The air between Toma and the demon crackled, not magic, but with pure, palpable tension.

The demon’s crimson eyes narrowed as he studied Toma’s stance. A cruel smile played on his pale lips, revealing those sharp fangs. Without a word, he flicked a finger casually toward Toma.

At first, nothing happened. Then a sudden, slicing pain tore across Toma’s forearm—a clean, invisible slash that made him stagger. He barely had time to register the cut before the demon flicked his finger again.

This time, the invisible force lashed out faster, forcing Toma to twist away, the edge grazing his side.

“What the hell—?” Toma hissed, eyes scanning the air for the source of the attack, but there was nothing, no sword, no blade, just air and that cruel flick of the demon’s fingers.

The demon chuckled darkly, drawing a sword from his side with a fluid motion. Toma’s grip tightened on his own wooden sword, the familiar weight grounding him amid the chaos of his senses.

Their swords met with a sharp crack, sending a shockwave rippling through the plaza. The clash echoed, metal on wood, bone on bone, as both fighters locked into a deadly rhythm.

The demon moved like a storm, fast, brutal, precise. Every strike was calculated, every parry a trap. But Toma’s dream-self wasn’t playing by normal rules. He dodged, parried, and countered with surprising agility, fueled by instinct and adrenaline.

Between exchanges, the demon flicked his finger again. Invisible cuts sliced through the air, each one faster, more vicious. Toma grunted, each invisible strike burning like fire on his skin.

Despite the pain, he kept his focus, circling, watching for openings. His wooden sword shivered with every clash, but he refused to back down.

The fight wasn’t just physical, it was a war of wills. The demon’s crimson eyes glowed with predatory hunger, while Toma’s gaze burned with stubborn defiance.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” the demon hissed during a brief pause.

The demon snarled and lunged, sword swinging in a wide arc. Toma ducked low, rolling beneath the strike, then swung upward with a quick, unexpected jab. The demon blocked, but the surprise attack broke the flow.

Seeing an opening, Toma pressed forward, launching a series of rapid strikes designed to wear his opponent down. The demon parried and dodged with skill, but each hit chipped away at his defense.

Suddenly, the demon flicked his finger again—this time multiple flicks in rapid succession. Invisible blades whipped toward Toma, slashing across his shoulders and chest.

Toma gritted his teeth, staggering back, blood staining his shirt.

“Not bad,” the demon muttered. “But not enough.”
...

..

.

Toma’s legs wobbled under the crushing weight of exhaustion and pain. Each breath came shallow and ragged, his body screaming in protest. The invisible cuts burned relentlessly, fire crawling beneath his skin, sapping every ounce of strength he had left.

His wooden sword trembled in his grasp, the once-confident grip now wavering as the demon advanced, eyes gleaming with cold amusement. “You’re weak. This ends here,” the demon hissed, voice like ice.

With a blur of motion, the demon unleashed a brutal flurry of strikes, each one sharper, faster, and heavier than the last. Toma barely managed to block a few, but one wicked blow found its mark, sending him crashing into the hard stone floor.

Pain exploded through his ribs, breath ripping from his lungs. He coughed, tasting bitter blood, and forced himself up, muscles trembling violently.

But the demon was already closing in, sword raised high.

“You will fall,” it whispered, voice dripping with malice.

Toma’s vision darkened at the edges, strength draining fast.

A desperate whisper escaped his cracked lips. “I won’t...”

His knees buckled. His body slumped forward as darkness threatened to claim him.

The demon loomed over Toma, voice dripping with scorn.

“You’re beaten. You’ve already lost. There’s no way you can win. Give up now, or be destroyed.”

Toma’s breath came ragged, every muscle screaming from exhaustion and pain. Yet those words ignited something deep inside him.

“No,” Toma growled, voice steady despite the fatigue. “I won’t lose.”

Laughs, Toma could hear distant laughs.

Voices, "You can never achieve anything."

"Eww, look at that walking pile of rubbish."

"Your job is to be my punching bag."

Toma was losing conciousness. 

Through the haze, a familiar voice sounded, his sister, "TOMA DID YOU FORGET? YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LOSE."

The demon’s sneer deepened as he watched Toma falter, sure the fight was over. But then, something unexpected happened.

Slowly, with staggering effort, Toma’s trembling hands pushed him upright. The demon’s crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of intrigue sparking in their depths.

“Yes, of course,” Toma whispered, voice low but steady. “How could I forget?”

Light began to shimmer around him, golden and warm. His wounds knit together, skin smoothing until no trace of injury remained. His tattered clothes mended themselves, folding back into their pristine form as if untouched.

“This is my dream,” Toma declared, the power in his voice echoing through the plaza.

A brilliant yellow aura surged to life, crackling and pulsing around him like living fire. His wooden sword, steady now in his grip, gleamed with renewed energy as he raised it and pointed toward the demon.

“So I cannot lose.”

...

..

.

Toma’s yellow aura blossomed, gentle yet unstoppable, wrapping him in a warm, radiant glow. His wooden sword shimmered softly as he raised it, light flowing from the blade like a quiet promise.

The demon’s eyes flickered with surprise, then hesitation. With a calm, almost effortless movement, Toma’s strike met the demon’s body. The demon’s figure slowly unraveled into shimmering particles that drifted away like dust on the breeze, fading without a sound.

Around them, Kaori, Shizuka, Kaien, Irilith, and the unnamed disciple exchanged nods and softly dispatched their opponents. No harsh screams, just the gentle settling of battle’s end.

The city itself seemed to sigh. 

And then suddenly, distant booms echoed.

Boom

Boom

Boom

The floating city of Mikana trembled, its graceful spires beginning to crumble and fall away like leaves in the wind.

Without hesitation, the group moved to the edge, taking a collective breath before leaping into the open air.

Toma felt the rush of wind on his face, the sensation freeing and exhilarating. A wide smile spread across his face—this was something he had always wanted to experience.

His companions’ expressions shifted from initial surprise to delight. Kaori’s serene smile warmed the moment, Shizuka let out a light laugh, Kaien’s eyes twinkled, and Irilith relaxed, sharing the joy.

Together, they descended through the sky, laughter mingling with the rush of air.

“Woohoo!” he called.

Toma stretched out his arms, the wind tugging playfully at his clothes and hair. His heart pounded with pure, unfiltered joy—a rush unlike anything he’d ever known. The world below blurred into colors and shapes, but up here, suspended between sky and earth, time felt like it had stopped.

A carefree laugh slipped from his lips. *This... this is freedom.*

He glanced sideways at his companions, their faces lit with the same exhilaration, and a quiet thought settled deep inside him, *I hope I never wake up.*