CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: WHEN STORM BREAKS

They say you can learn a lot about people just by observing the weather. People adore sunny days, as if nothing could ever go wrong. But when the rain comes, they’re quick to curse as if the storm itself brings misfortune.

What had once been a bright morning had turned grey. Rain now poured violently from the heavens, thunder cracked across the sky, and lightning split the air like jagged veins.

Amidst this chaos, two figures huddled under a shimmering turquoise barrier, their hands glowing with light as they worked desperately to save a girl’s life. The girl lay unconscious, her body torn and bloodied.

It was a miracle she was still breathing.

The magical barrier shielding them from the worst of the storm had been cast by Shinji, before he and Mika began the Genezen, a traditional emergency procedure requiring vast amounts of Chi. No surgical tools, just energy, discipline, and raw wills.

Though Shinji was highly skilled in both barrier-crafting and healing, he had never attempted something this advanced. Years ago, he had tried the Genezen in desperation to save his young Apprentice’s life — but at the cost of almost losing control, had his guardian not intervened.

That failure still haunted him. Even now, Shinji’s hands trembled slightly as they hovered over the deep gash in the girl’s abdomen. Her wounds were savage. Slashes across her shoulders, arms, even her thighs. Someone had meant to harm her. Not kill, perhaps, but to destroy her. Miraculously, she’d survived.

Shinji’s gaze flicked to Mika. Calm and focused on the outside, but he knew better. He had seen her break down earlier when she discovered Luna’s battered body in the stream. The resemblance had stunned him.

For a fleeting moment, the past had returned to him in full force. Kai. It was almost too much. But they couldn’t afford to lose themselves.

Shinji had pulled Mika aside, voice firm but measured. He reminded her she needed to be strong, not just for herself, but for Guy, whose world had fallen apart when he saw his sister’s conditions. If they were to save Luna, Mika had to be focused.

Mika nodded, silent and trembling, then followed his instructions. Together, they worked in tandem; Shinji formed the barrier while Mika used her Chi to heal the lesser wounds. She excelled, far more than he’d expected. Her Chi, due to her Spirit-highborn roots, was more potent than his. The wounds Mika healed closed quickly, leaving smooth skin with no scars.

Shinji knew how deadly Chi could be in trained hands. Spirits often used it as a weapon. For humans like him, mastering Chi took years of intense study, training and a lineage like the White Wolf Clan’s. He glanced at Mika again.

"Leave that one to heal. Start on her shoulders," he instructed. Without a word, Mika moved.

Elsewhere, Kazuo sat beneath the trees, watching over an unconscious Guy. He had witnessed Guy’s breakdown. The man’s anguish, his desperate sobs, the guilt.

"I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected her," were Guy’s last sobbing words before he collapsed. Kazuo had caught him before he hit the ground.

Now, as the rain finally eased into a steady drizzle, Kazuo stepped forward.

"How is she?" he asked.

Shinji looked drained. Sweat and rain streaked his face. "Stable. For now. We managed the worst of it, but she still needs a real healer."

"Guy woke up a little while ago," Kazuo sighed, ruffling his damp hair. "He nearly lost it again. I had to give him one of Suzumi’s sleeping pills. Just a small dose. Either that or knock him out myself," He nodded at the girl now slung carefully on Mika’s back. "You mentioned a doctor?"

Shinji brushed his soaked bangs back, revealing his full forehead. "If we head northeast, we might find help. We’re in no shape to keep moving in this condition anyway."

Kazuo looked doubtful. "What can we expect? Wild beasts? Knights? Fuck, we’re in no shape to fight any of them right now."

Shinji shook his head. "One of the Clan’s Branch Families lives there. It’s safe. You remember Milla?"

Kazuo blinked slowly, then nodded. "I’ll get Guy."

***

Unbeknownst to Shinji and the others, someone had been watching them from the treetops, hidden by distance and shadow.

A low tsk escaped the lips of the masked figure crouched high in the canopy. Dressed in a sleeveless, black-and-yellow Eastern robe, he adjusted the yellow fox mask that concealed his face.

Sage narrowed his eyes behind his binoculars. Tal’s instructions had been clear — bring the girl back alive. But he hadn’t said unharmed.

Sage, confident in his skill as a marksman, had struggled to hold back. He’d wanted to do more. Leave a mark.

A warning.

The girl’s wounds were precise: deep, painful, but not lethal. None had struck her vitals. He’d made sure of that. The plan had been to subdue her, heal her up just enough, and then haul her back to Luyas. But just as Sage approached to retrieve her, movement in the underbrush made him pause.

And then he saw her. The long-lost Spirit Princess.

His pulse quickened. Kill two birds with one stone. Tal would be very pleased.

Sage’d adjusted his crossbow, hands steady with anticipation, the Princess now squarely in his sights. But before he could fire, two more figures burst into the clearing.

Humans.

Sage gritted his teeth, annoyed. His eyes flicked briefly across the newcomers — handsome and well-trained, clearly her protectors.

He hesitated. That was all it took.

And now… they were getting away with the goods.

Cursing under his breath, Sage raised his crossbow again. The Princess was carrying his unconscious target on her back — too perfect of a target to ignore.

Click. He fired.

The arrow flew like a whisper of death, enchanted to follow the will of its master — until something or someone faster, intercepted it.

CLANG!

The arrow fell, smacked from the sky like a fly swatted mid-air.

"WHAT—?!" Sage hissed, eyes widening behind the mask.

That arrow had been perfect. Bound to his intent. Only one person alive knew how to counter it.

His breath hitched.

Impossible…

***

Down below, Shinji’s head snapped up. Something had cut through the air behind them — fast and violent.

The group halted.

He raised his gun, motioning for silence. Eyes scanning the canopy, he listened.

Nothing. Just the rain and their breathing.

"Shinji," Kazuo said quietly.

"Run," Shinji commanded. “We're almost at the clan’s boundary. Once we cross, whatever that is, they can’t touch us there.”

The trio broke into a sprint, with Shinji leading with long strides. Mika and Kazuo followed, each carrying a wounded companion.

***

Sage landed hard on a high branch, boots biting into wet bark. Rain slid down the yellow lacquer of his fox mask as he steadied himself, breath sharp with irritation.

“Careless.” The voice came from behind him.

Sage froze.

He didn’t turn at first. Only when he felt the pressure — familiar, controlled, suffocating — did he slowly pivot.

The Captain stood on the adjacent branch, rain parting around him as though it had learned better than to touch him.

Young. Too young, some said. His cloak clung darkly to his frame, eyes unreadable beneath the shadow of a mask shaped of a falcon he’s wearing. Beside him, the veiled woman dotted in a spider mask, watched in silence.

Sage clicked his tongue. “You always choose the most inconvenient moments to appear.”

“And you always push further than instructed,” the Captain replied calmly. “Tal said alive.”

“He didn’t say whole,” Sage shot back. “You know as well as I do — fear makes compliance easier.”

The Captain’s gaze sharpened, not with anger, but calculation.

“Fear makes variables.”

Sage laughed under his breath. “You stopped my arrow.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Sage’s voice lowered. “Only one technique can break an intent-bound strike like that.”

The Captain said nothing.

“That art was sealed,” Sage continued, eyes narrowing. “Buried with the old orders. Unless…”
He tilted his head. “Unless you’re not just Tal’s errand boy.”

The Captain stepped closer. The pressure intensified—not aggressive, but undeniable.

“You are here to observe,” he said. “Not to escalate.”

“And if I choose not to listen?”

“Then Tal won’t be the one you answer to.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the rain.

Sage exhaled slowly. “The Princess was there.”

“That is exactly why restraint matters,” the Captain replied. “If she is harmed, this entire alliance collapses.”

Sage’s jaw tightened. “You speak as if you outrank Tal.”

“I don’t need rank,” the Captain said softly. “I need results.”

Another beat.

Sage stepped back, irritation simmering beneath his composure. “Fine. I’ll pull back.”

“For now,” the Captain agreed.

Sage vanished into smoke without another word.

The Captain watched the space he’d occupied for a long moment before turning away.

“He’s becoming reckless,” the veiled woman said.

“Yes,” the Captain replied. “And Tal is allowing it.”

His gaze drifted toward the forest’s edge, where the Princess had vanished beyond reach.

“That tells me everything I need to know.”