Above a Clear Sky

When I awoke, the sight of charred beasts greeted me. Thinking that I was vulnerable, the mindless brutes must have attacked me while I was asleep. Little did they know of my automatic barrier, which stayed active even in my dreams.

I was undamaged, though the same could not be said for my assailants

Limbs and organs littered the cliffside, blackened to the darkest shade. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Ashes drifted between mutilated corpses, clinging on to their former selves.

The gruesome sight gave me pause.

How many times did I wake up to this morbid reality? In this cruel world, was it any wonder that so many sought refuge in King Terence’s promise of hope?

Exiling my thoughts, I snapped myself awake. This was no time - or place - for half baked philosophy. The shadow awaited me.

As luck would have it, a shaft of light flickered down from above, invigorating my tired body. Even the sun was nudging me to move.

Fine, fine, I got the message.

Encouraged by the putrid stench of scorched flesh, I stood up to leave. Time to resume the mousehunt.

For the next few hours, I trekked through the forest, uncaring of the destruction that trailed behind my blade. Left to right my blade swung, cleaving fauna and flora alike.

Beasts attacked, beasts died. Roots grew, roots fell. Same old, same old.

Yawning, I concentrated my aura around my sword, purging it from grime and blood. Even as the terrain succumbed to darkness, Amaterasu continued to shine, a beacon of light in the shadows. It lived up to its namesake - ‘Shine From Heaven’.

“The Sun Goddess used to illuminate all,” Oba-chan once said, “Nourished by her light, humanity thrived. Just like the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu illuminated my life. Will it illuminate yours?”

She didn’t have to ask.

From the moment I laid eyes on Amaterasu, I was captivated by it. The passage of time did little to sway my opinion. In spite of the countless cracks that snaked along the length of its blade, Amaterasu remained as magnificent as ever, resplendent in its golden glory. No sword could triumph against time; Amaterasu proved otherwise.

In the centre of the invincible blade glowed a tiny gem, the kind that might be found aplenty in a dead king’s tomb. First, yellow, then green, the colour of the gem shifted every few seconds, cycling through the colours in a rainbow.

The colour of the gem hinted at Amaterasu’s tracking ability. Without it, I would have never tracked the shadow, lest I splurge my life savings on the reliable but expensive services of seers.

The different colours notified me of the various creatures in the nearby vicinity. Each colour stood for different elemental affinities. Yellow stood for light affinity, green stood for demonic affinity, et cetera.

As a rule of thumb, every organism on Todaria possessed a single affinity. Outliers with two or more affinities existed in the past, but most of them were wiped out according to humanity’s hypocritical history. With the exception of myself and King Terence, I had yet to meet another individual who could access more than one affinity. That boded well for me, since it meant that I didn’t have to memorise all the different affinity combinations my ancestor jotted down. Each colour represented one affinity, plain and simple.

Of course, I was solely interested in one colour. Purple.

As I finished my thought, my eyes wandered to the position of the gem. Green, not purple. I clicked my tongue.

Fate was an unkind mistress. In the weeks since I arrived in Nihil, the gem never once turned purple, the affinity of shadows.

I rolled for heads but my coin kept landing on tails. Come to think of it, Firenze often won our games of blackjack. Was my luck really that atrocious?

“GGGGRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

An ear piercing screech answered my question. Sighing, I glanced to my left. The glare of a malformed bear met my deadpan eyes. Was it time to fight already? My bear friend seemed to agree.

A mountain of flesh, the red giant towered over me, not unlike the pesky roots which obstructed my passage. Awful scars zigzagged across its chest, exposing the pink flesh within. Oddly enough, a third arm hung on the bear’s right side, ruining its natural symmetry. I eyed the curious appendage as I traced the edge of my blade.

Maybe I should correct the bear's natural symmetry...

As if it could read my thoughts, the three-armed bear charged towards me, determined to punish my insolence. Without warning, a slash came from my left. Clearly, the hulking behemoth was more limber than its size suggested.

The bear swiped at me, only to ripple my afterimage. My real body re-appeared at the edge of the forest, cordoned off by unhelpful trees.

For a moment, my heartbeat rose. If I didn’t dodge, my barrier would have been shredded right away. Defence was off the table, that much was apparent.

Growling, the savage beast continued its assault. Instead of charging at me, however, it opted for another strategy. I raised an eyebrow as a massive amount of red aura gathered around its arms. Not only was the bear absurdly strong, but it was also proficient at magic as well? I was right; My luck was atrocious.

No matter, I liked a decent challenge.

Wreathed in red aura, the bear slammed its fists on the ground below. Vermillion spikes shot out from the spot the bear strook, eager to skewer me where I stood.

A trivial encumbrance.

With a flick of my wrist, my sword sang in the air, carving an open path in front of me. Rubble flew to the wayside as I leapt towards my foe, the tip of my sword mere millimeters from sinking into unguarded flesh.

[Sun Art: Nova Slash]!

Augmented by the power of the sun, Amaterasu shone radiant even as it severed muscle from bone. Blood gushed out of the stump that was formerly the demonic bear's hand. Even so, Amaterasu remained as brilliant as ever, a thing of beauty dazzling in this desolate landscape.

Such was the elegance of the fifth sun art. Alas, the bear didn’t appreciate my skillful swordplay.

Snarling, the injured beast swung its right arm, only to brush thin air. Already, I was behind its exposed back, my sword poised to claim victory. Amaterasu descended in a graceful arc, unwavering like a guillotine.

Not for the first time in my life, I was about to kill a poor defenceless amputee.

But it was not to be.

Abruptly, the bear spun on its feet, meeting Amaterasu with a ruthless slash. Black aura wrapped around its claws, lending them a malevolent glint. I pressed on, undeterred by my foe’s sudden surge in energy.

Before Amaterasu, all shall submit.

Sparks flew as steel and claw collided, lighting the pale sky. Surprisingly, the bear proved to be an equal match. The clash of light and demonic energies whipped up a violent maelstrom, levelling the surrounding radius.

Amaterasu shuddered, struggling to best its foe. I continued to press on, gripping tightly to my sword. One of us had to give.

A moment passed.

Then, it happened.

Blood sprayed in the air, accompanied by a furious howl. Amaterasu was victorious. Sundered into two halves, the bear’s arm hung limply at its side, mangled beyond repair. I raised my blade, ready to kill - only for Amaterasu to shatter before my eyes.

A vision of a shimmering blade flashed by.

Metal shards pelted my barrier as I stared unblinking. Centuries of decay failed the ancient relic. My fingers clutched its crumbling hilt, to no effect. Golden rain fell, illuminating the dark.

Amaterasu was gone. Gone.

Forgive me, Oba-chan.

I barely had time to grieve before the bear lunged at me again. Despite losing another arm to Amaterasu, it refused to back down. The tenacious beast continued to advance, motivated by rage.

Black aura engulfed its remaining arm as it moved in to deliver the finishing blow. I stumbled on my feet, unsteady from our previous clash. Deadly claws drew close, heralding my end. Rivulets of blood trickled down my neck, spilling onto the flora beneath. Finally, the beast would prevail.

Just then, I dodged.

I skidded to my right, narrowly avoiding the bear’s attack. As I predicted, its left flank was open. I pulled my arm back, preparing to strike.

Even without Amaterasu, I had an ace up my sleeve, one that involved tapping into another affinity. This time, black aura engulfed my arm instead. The beast was about to get a taste of its own medicine.

[Sun Art, Mirror Moon: Obsidian Claw]!

In rapid succession, I unleashed a barrage of devastating punches, each blow an exact copy of the bear's previous attack. Numerous craters decorated the surface of my adversary as the sickening crunch of broken bones reverberated throughout the forest. The bear collapsed, unable to withstand my relentless assault.

I made sure it didn't get back up. With a final stomp, I pulverised the bear’s head. A grotesque pulp of brain matter and bone adorned the space where a head once occupied. Demonic entity or otherwise, no mortal being alive could overturn its cruel fate.

As long as the reason is survival, anything is justifiable, Oba-chan once said, her rugged arms caressing Amaterasu’s blade. What do you think, my boy?

At that time, my twelve year old self uttered a weak protest, baffled by Oba-chan’s cavalier attitude towards life. My former naivete could be measured by the glasses of wine I imbibed since then.

Taking a moment to rest, I wiped away beads of sweat from my forehead. Black aura rampaged around my arm, the price of copying a technique from another affinity. Although [Mirror Moon] bypassed my natural light affinity for an instant, my body was still incompatible with demonic affinity at its core.

This was why King Terence didn’t just merge with his strongest servants; The shadow’s potent aura suited the evil king’s unique affinity to a tee, which was why he went through all the hoops to revive it in the first place. In truth, I suspected that King Terence wasn’t specifically trying to revive a shadow.

He probably ordered his court magicians to create an artificial construct made of dark aura; The creation of the shadow was just a happy accident, like the many happy accidents that he conveniently shrugged off. If not for my gem flashing purple, I would have never made the connection with the shadow.

Speaking of the gem, it plonked softly against the ground. I saw no discernable cracks on it, even when I went over to pick it up. Unexpectedly, a golden aura coarsed across its surface, protecting it from harm. Strange. Like an acclaimed actor performing alongside an amateur, this unknown aura completely outshone my own.

Could the gem generate this much light energy by itself? Oba-chan never told me about such an ability. This warranted further investigation, preferably in an environment where I was capable of drawing my full power. Tapping into the gem’s energy in my weakened state possibly meant certain death. Or worse, a scolding from Oba-chan in the afterlife.

I could already imagine her acrimonious remarks, what with the destruction of Amaterasu and my haphazard way of teaching Firenze. Did all that drinking dull your senses? My deceased mentor would say, waving her cane for emphasis. After all those times I told you to quit messing around too... Letting out a long sigh, Oba-chan would amble over to my side, before reaching up to pat my head.

Screw up or not, you are still my beloved student. Welcome back.

I shook my head, ridding myself of my prior delusion. Even if such a saccharine afterlife existed, I won’t be able to cross the pearly gates. The corpses that clung to my feet were far too many. What right did I have to trample on those small, bony figures again? What right did I have to trample on those that I had wronged?

My place belonged in the depths of hell, just like King Terence. My victims deserved that much.

Oba-chan would object to my self deprecation but I knew that she shared the same philosophy deep down. Sins as heavy as ours could not be absolved. Even so, I couldn’t help but recall her kind words. My memories of Oba-chan flowed unbidden, refusing to lay dormant. Snapshots of our past flickered in my mind as I thought about Oba-chan.

The cranky old hunter who insisted on being called ‘Oba-chan’ and ‘Oba-chan’ only was a pain in the neck to be sure. Everytime I called her grandma, she would lift her cane and threaten to wallop me. As the last survivor of the Sunrise Empire, she was particular about certain customs, irritatingly so in fact. Even though her attempts at teaching me Japanese proved futile, she continued to persist.

To her, I was the only one that she could pass down her customs to. To me, she was my saviour.

I remembered that moonlit night, the day when I lost my parents. I watched as that lustrous blade sailed through the air, banishing the dark of night.

Brilliant was the curve of Amaterasu, radiant in the moonlight. Forever seared in my memory, that image was a source of comfort, an ideal I aspired towards.

Since then, I vowed to repay Oba-chan, to glow like that lucent blade. Whenever she needed a massage, I obliged. Whenever she cooked spiderpig stew, I ate. Whenever she needed kind words after a failed date, I offered. Patting my shoulders, Oba-chan would always say that she was proud of me.

Yet, I never felt like I did enough.

In the end, I never repaid Oba-chan. Now that she was dead, I never could.

“Be...good...Lu...” Oba-chan said as she uttered her final gasps. A sheet of red flashed before my eyes as I recalled that terrible scene. Corpses were strewn across the courtyard, dotting the ground like ants flattened under a palm. I knelt in front of Oba-chan, helpless as I watched her suffer. Entrails spilled from an open gash in her stomach, dying her skirt with a crimson hue. Sneering, King Terence stood triumphant as he raised a scroll in the air. His other hand clutched a speckless sword.

“At last, I have obtained the Soul Merge scroll!” The blonde bastard gloated, a wicked smile plastered on his punchable face. Legions of foot soldiers laid unmoving beneath the scumbag king, sacrificial pawns for his surprise attack.

None of us thought that King Terence would personally come to attack the temple, nor were we prepared to handle his immense strength. If it wasn’t for Oba-chan shielding me with her final technique, I would have been caught dead in the sudden shower of red.

Once again, I owed Oba-chan another favour I couldn’t repay. Up until the light expired from her eyes, Oba-chan gripped my hand, preventing me from pursuing the bastard king. She must have known that I was ready to make a suicidal dash, my aura concentrated at my feet to maximise speed.

For King Terence’s part, he knew when to scram. Having expended most of his energy on his reckless attack, the callous king wasn’t exactly eager to clash with another foe. The stakes were too low for him to risk his life, especially with his objective already fulfilled.

As for me, I continued grabbing on to Oba chan’s cold hands, oblivious to the setting sun. King Terence would pay, I swore, holding up Amaterasu.

I swear it on this blade

As it turned out, my proclamation would prove to be an impossibility. Fragments of Amaterasu laid scattered on the ground in a chaotic clutter, hindering my attempts at gathering them. It would take a few hours at the very minimum to collect them all, a few hours that would be better spent productively.

The brilliant blade was gone for good, that was a fact that I had to accept. Oba-chan was an accomplished swordsmith herself, and even she admitted that she was incapable of repairing Amaterasu if it ever shattered. What hope did I have of fixing it myself?

Composing myself, I shrugged off the memories that were flooding my mind. Certain priorities took precedence above pointless sentimentality.

Firstly, I had to escape Nihil. Without Amaterasu, my strength was neutered. My quest to slay the shadow would have to be delayed for now, lest I neglect my safety. Even though I didn’t value my own life, Firenze might be distraught if I perished in the line of battle. Until I found a suitable gift for his upcoming birthday, I could not afford to die; I doubted that my dead body made for a good birthday gift by conventional standards.

Secondly, I needed to acquire a new sword. My trip down memory lane made it crystal clear that I mostly learnt sword techniques from Oba-chan. Unlike an overpowered protagonist, I wasn’t about to whip out an array of secret techniques that I ‘forgot I learnt’. Save for the final technique that Oba-chan imparted to me, the last skill I had left was my original technique, Mirror Moon.

The only original technique I possessed was utterly unoriginal. Firenze would chuckle every time he repeated this joke. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Oba-chan already patented it.

For the time being, I had to rely on my unoriginal technique to fend off the eldritch abominations of Nihil. There was just one issue; Mirror Moon’s one hour time limit. Unless I wanted to be lion-fish food, it would be prudent for me to get a headstart while I could.

I threw a perfunctory glance at the gem, out of habit rather than a deliberate choice. It glowed green, the same as always, with a slight hint of purple creeping up on the side-

Purple.

Blood erupted from my back, forcing me to my knees. Amaterasu’s gem clattered against the ground, reuniting with its fragmented brethren. I pushed my arms against the ground, struggling to stand. From the corner of my eye, a humanoid silhouette darted past. The shadow.

White spots formed around my vision, limiting my sight. I barely got back on my feet before the next attack struck. Black claws raked across my chest as I tumbled, rending flesh.

“Bastard!..”

I lashed out with my fist, prompting the shadow to dodge. A black blur flickered away in the periphery of my vision, merging into the darkness. That fast devil!

The shadow wasn’t this agile when we last fought. Was it biding its time to grow stronger before it ambushed me? I had no time to linger on my thoughts, however.

Shadowy teeth descended upon my position, ready to draw blood. I dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the shadow’s lethal strike. A flurry of slashes threatened to maim me where I dodged, but I leapt in time, causing the fiend’s attack to miss.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to evade all of the shadow’s attacks. A hideous tail smacked me from behind while I was in mid-air, sending me sprawling on the ground.

Blood spurted from my open wounds, to the satisfaction of the shadow. I could almost catch a faint glimpse of an inhuman smile before black claws stretched out to strike me again. It took all I had to lift myself off the ground and dodge the claws. Miraculously, I managed to carve out a single moment of respite.

Taking a deep breath, I called upon the remnants of my sun energy. Yellow aura suffused my body, mending portions of my wounded flesh. In my enervated state, I could only maintain my aura for a few minutes. It would have to suffice.

Not a single second had passed before the shadow launched its offence again. Claws, teeth, tail, and all manner of amorphous appendages zeroed into my position, inviting me to join the shadow’s deadly dance. I had no intention of obliging.

Chunks of earth were torn apart as I weaved through the barrage of attacks, straining to perceive the true form of the shadow. Darting in and out of sight, the fiend was a complete blur, blending in perfectly with the surrounding darkness. Ghastly appendages emerged seemingly out of nowhere, gouging flesh everytime they found purchase.

Wincing, I surveyed my surroundings to track the shadow’s movements, to no avail. Its erratic movements defied human comprehension, despite my best efforts. The darkness betrayed no trace of its movements, forcing my reflexes to work overtime. To my credit, only one out of ten attacks actually hit me. But in the face of hundreds of blows, it wasn’t enough.

A particularly potent strike knocked me off my feet, leaving me vulnerable to attack. By the time I got up, several lacerations had formed on my body. If not for my reinforced barrier, I would have died ten times over in that single instant.

Unsympathetic to my plight, the shadow resumed its relentless assault. Phantom claws converged upon me, followed by a gaping maw and a vicious tail. Inundated by the brutal onslaught, I perished, much to the joy of the shadow. The calm had expired during the storm.

Or so the shadow thought.

“Phew, finally found you.” I said, standing behind the true form of the shadow. While it was true that I was incapable of perceiving the shadow initially, that truth didn’t hold for long. As I became accustomed to its presence, the shadow gradually became more solid, its features more definite, until I could finally perceive it as a single entity and not an extension of the darkness itself.

That allowed me to dodge its previous onslaught.

Looking at my nemesis, I realised that the ancient writings were right; the shadow was “Impossible to describe”. Madness incarnate, the foul fiend resembled a twisted depiction of the human body distorted to the extreme. Where a human head should be present, there was nothingness. Where nothingness should have pervaded, there was something. Organs twitched in areas where they didn’t belong, making a mockery of reality. Logic crumbled when I reached for verbs and adjectives to describe the shadow.

This shadow was nothing like the shadow I fought before. Given enough time, could it mutate into an even more unfathomable form? An ineffable terror crept up my spine as I considered that thought. To think that King Terrence wanted to merge with this abomination!

No wonder my ancestor was so obsessed with hunting shadows. For the sake of reality, their existence must not be permitted.

Golden aura spiraled around my right arm as I thrust it towards the shadow. In response, the fiend swerved to the left, avoiding my attack. With three minutes on the clock, I didn’t let up my offence. Blow after blow I launched, expending more of my limited reserves. Blow after blow the shadow evaded, slithering in and out of my attacks.

With a yell, I jabbed my right arm at the shadow. Though it was a weak punch, the fiend still chose to evade. My jab briefly grazed the shadow before it rolled to the left again. That confirmed my suspicions.

Observation Number 1: The shadow would always duck to the left whenever I attacked from a certain angle

Observation Number 2: As long as I kept attacking, the shadow would be forced to evade.

The quality of my punches didn’t matter. If my punches emitted aura, it would dodge it, regardless of how weak my aura was. From my perspective, it didn’t matter if my punches hit dead air. By attacking with the slightest bit of aura, I was able to conserve my energy overall. Instead of focusing on my barrier, I could redirect the majority of my mana into charging one devastating attack; Oba-chan’s final technique.

Memories of that fateful day surfaced once more. Oba-chan’s frail figure stood defiantly against the shower of red, Amaterasu abandoned by her feet. Crimson flames clashed head to head with a volley of scarlet arrows empowered by the blood of fallen soldiers, neither side giving an inch. Oba-chan grimaced, her aura dwindling as she fed the last of her energy to the crimson flames. Though potent, her technique exacted a heavy toll on her defences. Even if she managed to protect me, she herself would surely die. I dropped to my feet, begging Oba-chan to stop. My foster mother in-name simply shook her head.

This is my duty as your mentor...as your family...Live well…

With that, a gigantic explosion rocked the entire battlefield. The rest of the story, I knew by heart.

Clearing my thoughts, I focused my energy on my right arm. A massive amount of aura gathered around it, dwarfing the size of my previous aura infused punches. This was going to hurt.

I swung my right arm downwards at the shadow, the raw power of my technique screaming to be released. The fiend simply leapt to the left, avoiding the full brunt of my desperate attack. My fist slammed into the space where the shadow formerly stood, sending shockwaves across the ground. Meanwhile, the fiend landed safely on its feet, unaffected by my attack.

It appeared as though my calculated ploy had failed. Just then, colossal spikes protruded from the ground. They impaled the shadow dead on, eliciting a violent scream.

[Sun Art, Mirror Moon: Vermillion Spikes!]

As I had anticipated, the shadow fell for my trap. It didn’t expect that I would conjure up a long ranged attack to its left, nor did it predict that I meant for it to dodge left with my initial strike. Howling, the shadow swiped at my vermillion spikes, causing rubble to scatter everywhere. Freeing itself from the spikes, it sought to retreat into the darkness again, but it was too late.

In that instant when it was immobilized by Mirror Moon, I caught up to it. With our shoulders nearly touching, I couldn’t miss at this distance. Ignoring the recoil from Mirror Moon, I unleashed the technique that I had been charging in the background; Oba-chan’s final technique.

[Sun Art: Solar Inferno!]

Superheated flames washed over the shadow, incinerating every part of its distorted body. Engulfed in flame, the trapped fiend could only writhe as the conflagration raged on. Sweating, I poured the remainder of my energy into the hellfire, determined to put down my foe for good. In response, the inferno took on an even darker shade of crimson, its harsh glow drawing the attention of neighbouring beasts.

Their curiosity proved to be fatal. Taking on the shape of a dragon, my ruthless flames continued their inexorable advance, laying waste to all that they consumed. Wretched trees and mindless abominations that obstructed its path alike were swiftly vaporised under the sheer force of my flames. Screeching, the shadow extended its limbs to eviscerate me, only for them to melt away.

The jaws of my crimson dragon snapped shut, sealing the fiend’s fate.

With a mighty roar, my dragon detonated, leaving molten rock in its wake. Panting, I slumped against a nearby tree, the acrid smoke from the resulting explosion stinging my eyes. Oba-chan’s technique had worked.

No trace of the shadow remained in this scorched landscape where life would no longer prosper. Our game of cat and mouse had finally concluded.

I grinned as I somehow mustered enough strength to stand. Biting back the urge to sleep, I plodded onwards, ignoring my throbbing limbs. What a technique, that solar inferno. Did Oba-chan endure this much pain before her demise? I didn’t want to know.

Off the corner of my eye, a radiant glow caught my attention. Amaterasu’s gem called out to me, beseeching me to pick it up. What a lucky gem. I thought that my flames had obliterated it, but it turned out that it was more durable than I thought. Bending down, I lifted the gem up with my left hand.

Untarnished, its gleaming surface was a symbol of beauty, a naturally polished diamond that soared above manmade replicas. It made for an excellent birthday gift, I mused.

I flipped over the gem, inspecting it for damage. Nary a scratch could be seen, except for a small dent on its left side, where a speck of purple glowed-

Before I knew it, my right arm was sailing in the air. A black blur swooped in and devoured it in a flash, affording me no time to protest. Gritting my teeth, I ducked to my left as phantom jaws brushed against my neck. Instinctively, I raised Amaterasu’s gem, letting its radiant glow wash over my assailant.

Lo and behold, the shadow had survived.

No more than a thick outline, the fiend that severed my arm was but a shell of its former self, reduced to a black spear that sought only vengeance. Bathed in Amaterasu’s light, the charred flesh of the shadow came into full view, a reminder of my past transgressions. Did the shadow burrow underground to escape my conflagration?

My thoughts were cut off with a deluge of blows. I dodged from side to side, avoiding the worst of the shadow’s attacks. Even so, I didn’t get off lightly. Torrents of blood gushed out from my open wounds as I struggled to breathe, my body degenerating with each passing second. Sleep threatened to overtake me, but I held firm, refusing to relent.

Ironically, it was the pain that kept me conscious throughout the whole ordeal. Skidding to the right, I dodged yet another attack, even as pain crippled my entire body. Hissing, the shadow lunged at me with alacrity, a fresh set of ghastly arms dangling by its side.

This attack, I couldn’t dodge. My knees sank to the ground, unable to support my full weight any longer. The shadow loomed over me, bringing down its fatal claws. In the face of overwhelming odds, it persisted and was now on the cusp of victory. How could such a tenacious monster exist?

“Well, I guess this makes the two of us.”

Before the shadow's claws could slash me, I rammed my fist into its exposed head, drawing power from the last vestiges of my light energy. Imitating a falling meteor, my fist disintegrated the shadow's head upon impact. Black blood spilled in abundant amounts as the fiend tumbled backwards, unaware of its missing head.

Likewise, an equal amount of blood oozed out from every orifice in my body, filling the hourglass of my demise. Already, my hearing was starting to go. Frequent flashes of light assailed my vision, beguiling me with their soothing glow. This was it. Without the intervention of Deus Ex Machina, I would surely die.

The lightbulbs in my head turned on as I stole another look at Amaterasu’s gem, which remained undamaged in my left hand. Boundless light energy swirled around it, beckoning me to exploit it. If I succeeded in absorbing the gem’s energy, I would be able to heal the majority of my wounds. Failure, on the other hand, meant an express ticket to Death’s palace. The odds were ten to one in Death’s favour.

With my rotten luck, anything less than a one hundred percent success rate was equivalent to zero percent. The purple glint on Amaterasu’s gem exemplified my point.

Two feet away, the shadow lingered. Though it had lost its head, my nemesis clung on to its unsightly existence, heedless of reality’s laws. Enshrouded in black miasma, the shadow snarled as it conjured new rows of deadly teeth. Try as I might, my body stood still, refusing to move. I could only watch as the shadow lunged towards me, a black streak hellbent on my demise.

Time halted in its tracks there and then, freezing the shadow in suspended animation. Right on cue, a flood of memories bombarded my mind. Memories of Oba-chan flashed by one after another, stretching each individual second into infinity. Our first encounter and our last replayed in my head in stunning clarity, transporting me back to the distant past. If anything, I thanked providence for letting me relive those halcyon days.

It truly was a sappy way for a murderer like me to die. Reflecting on my worthless life, I realised that I had accomplished nothing of import.

I killed many, but to what end? Even if the ones I killed were deserving of death, their very presence could have changed the world for the better. My victims could have raised children who might someday grow up into benevolent kings. They could have invented machines that might someday revolutionise human history. What gave me the right to steal the reaper’s mantle?

I was just an ordinary human being. The greatest good I could do was to fulfill the dreams that were entrusted to me. Even that, I failed at. Oba-chan hoped to preserve the Sunrise Empire’s legacy through me, but I remembered nothing about her customs. The monks trusted me to safeguard the ‘Soul Merge’ scroll, but I let it fall to the hands of King Terence. Firenze believed that I would slay the shadow, but the shadow slayed me instead.

My life amounted to nothing more than an insipid joke. My death wouldn’t amount to anything either.

This is how I die; A nameless warrior with no description.

My legacy would languish in the depths of history, unremembered by future generations to come. Firenze alone cannot preserve my memory. How could he, when I never showed him my true self? Never have I disclosed these deep seated feelings of loathing mixed with prideless arrogance. Never would I be able to.

Meanwhile, King Terence remained alive and healthy, unrivalled under heaven. His cruel reign would last centuries, plunging humanity into an era of despair...

That was what I wanted to believe. Now that I was at the brink of death, the unaltered memory of that day bubbled to the surface. The memory that I desperately repressed finally broke free of its restraints, forcing me to confront the truth.

On that day, King Terence didn’t gloat.

He didn’t sneer at his fallen comrades, nor did he triumphantly announce his victory. All I saw was the face of a broken man, tormented by the weight of his sins. Faint droplets spilled forth from the twin pools of his eyes, splashing onto the parchment that held the ‘Soul Merge’ spell.

I couldn’t believe it.

The damned bastard willingly sacrificed the lives of his loyal men, and yet he had the audacity to weep? How dare he.

King Terence was supposed to be the source of my hatred, a one dimensional caricature who deserved no empathy. His actions should have proved as much. But didn’t the rebels do the exact same thing?

In the name of freedom, rebel generals led dedicated soldiers in suicidal diversions. Faced with their impending demise, the doomed men continued fighting for their cause regardless. Truth be told, some part of me admired their resolve. So why did I look down on the deaths of King Terence’s men? I thought of them as unwitting sacrificial pawns, but they, too, could have given up their lives for a worthwhile cause.

King Terence’s “Utopia plan” seemed farcical, but was it truly so? According to his followers, King Terence would don “The Yellow Crown” and create a paradise equal to Heaven. It didn’t matter to them that all of humanity would have to be sacrificed for the creation of “The Yellow Crown” - King Terence had promised to resurrect them. Under his godlike rule, humanity would be shaped as he saw fit. That was King Terence’s “promise of hope”.

Understandably, a vocal minority rebelled against King Terence’s idea of godhood. I didn’t believe in his crock of bullshit at all. “The Yellow Crown”? “Godhood”? Those were just nonsense terms that the despicable psychopath made up to justify his heinous actions. Even when I came across these terms in my ancestor’s writings, I simply brushed them off as folklore.

Not once did I consider the legitimacy of King Terence’s “Utopia Plan”. Why did I excuse one heinous act, but not the other? Painting the world in black and white made it easier for me to pretend that white was black whenever I closed my eyes.

I didn’t want to admit it, but being ruled by an omnipotent god didn’t sound so bad. Free will stopped mattering to me the moment Oba-chan died. No, that’s wrong. Free will never mattered to me since I was born. All I wanted was contentment.

This cruel world could go to hell. If I ended up in King Terence’s utopia, would I be able to see Oba-chan again?

Maybe.

And maybe she would scold me for giving up and maybe she would sigh and tilt her head to her right like she always did whenever she got frustrated and maybe I would rattle limp excuses out of my blabbering mouth and maybe it would conclude with a banquet of unexpected tears layered with warmness hidden behind insincere apologies that were ultimately genuine lies that slowly transitioned into the truth. And maybe we would laugh together under the canopy of human connection.

And maybe, I’ll be happy.

If so, then I…

“...welcome death? What foolishness.” I said to the auburn haired boy. “No cause is worth dying for. Go home, kid. Forget about saving your sister.”

“Forget my sister?” Young Firenze slammed his hands on the table. “I can’t do that, master. Would you abandon your loved ones to survive?”

“Maybe. It’s a cruel world out there.”

“And it’s a crueler world without my sister.” My soon-to-be disciple retorted.

I sighed. The callow youth had been coaxing me into teaching him the Sun Arts for the better part of the evening, to no avail. He wanted to save his kidnapped sister, and he wanted his saviour to help him. King Terence desired his sister because of some idiotic prophecy, so he would oppose King Terence’s plans with mystic martial arts. It was a stupid plan and Firenze likely knew it.

Nevertheless, it was the only path available to him.

“Like I said, I need more strength if I want to save my sister.” His eyes glimmered as he stared at Amaterasu. “I need power.”

Firenze paused.

“If it’s to save my sister, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Another pause.

I let the silence sink in this time, taking the opportunity to stew on my thoughts. By all accounts, I should have rejected Firenze’s plea for help. Power cannot fill the chasm of sorrow. Nay, only the opposite. Even I dared not oppose King Terence directly. What hope did a twelve year old boy have?

Still, his stubborn determination seemed familiar somehow. The glow in his eyes spoke volumes of his resolve. Strangely, he reminded me of myself.

“Fine.”

I threw out a fist.

“Tell you what? You know Rock, Paper, Scissors? If you win, I’ll teach you -”

“I win.”

Before I could finish my sentence, Firenze held up an open hand.

“Paper beats rock.”

He pointed at my fist.

“You’re cheating.” I said.

“Everyone cheats. It’s a cruel world out here.”

Firenze shook his head.

“But if possible, I would like to live in an un-cruel world where no one has to cheat.”

“I see.”

I cupped my hands. When have I heard those words? Did I say them before? Admittedly, the brittle delusions of this naive kid once slumbered within me. But brittle delusions often fade in the presence of reality. Despite the cruelty of this world, could Firenze really cling on to his beliefs? Maybe I should test his resolve…

“Rationally speaking, I shouldn’t be encouraging your futile dreams, but I’m not exactly sane right now.”

I gestured to the empty beer bottles at my feet.

“If someone were to, you know, chance across me training near the waterfall north of the Great Forest, then I guess it can’t be helped if they pick up one or two of my techniques.”

“You mean you’re willing to train me?”

“Who knows? Swing by around eleven tomorrow. Maybe you can catch me sober then.”

This was a mistake. Why on earth did I give in to my sentimentality? Firenze would have been killed by a scrawny robber if not for my intervention. Could I really entrust him with Oba chan’s Sun Arts?

Of course I could, a voice whispered from inside me. After all, Oba chan taught a weakling like me. It wouldn’t be right to let Oba chan’s Sun Arts wither.

If Firenze failed on his quest, then so be it. But if he succeeded, then I guess I wouldn’t mind watching the sunset of an “un-cruel world” with him. My twelve year self would have liked that. Yeah, I would have.

“There’s just one more thing I wanted to ask.” My disciple piped up.

“Well, I already indulged you once. Ask away.” I said.

“Erm, what’s your name?”

A simple question. Yet, it was one that I never thought to ask Oba-chan when we first met. Neither did she ask for my name. We ate, trained, and laughed together, us two nameless strangers united by loss. I remembered the first time she mentioned my name, when she was celebrating the anniversary of our meeting.

While thinking back to that time, I opened my mouth to answer Firenze’s question.

“It’s…”

“...Lucas.”

Up to the infinitesimal seconds leading to my death, a soft layer of golden light cloaked my body. It was impossibly thin, fainter than forgotten fantasies of youth. But there it was. The subdued light emanated from the fractured gem on my left hand, which would soon embrace darkness.

This was my final trump card. In a desperate bid, I had converted all the gem’s light energy into one singular counterattack. Once the shadow touched my body, it would die. So would I.

Funnily enough, I intended to die alone mere moments before. What changed? King Terence might very well be the world’s messiah. Why stop him from achieving his goal?

I didn’t know. Perhaps I just wanted to place my faith on a naive dream. The world might remain cruel, but it’s in the act of believing that gives us purpose. What’s wrong with a dead man starting to believe?

Besides, if the “Utopia Plan'' was really so noble, then it wouldn’t matter if I threw in a little monkey wrench. Like Oba-chan did for me, I would now entrust the future to my own disciple.

Save your sister.

I remembered Oba-chan’s screams.

Don’t be a failure like me.

Already, the meandering stage play had stumbled into its anticlimactic end. Light disintegrated the shadow upon contact with my body, returning it from whence it came. I, too, would soon perish.

Well, this was it.

After all my protestations, I choose to be a sentimental protagonist in the end. How cliche. But it doesn’t feel all that bad. Not at all. I did what I could. This much should be enough.

Yes, it should be.

Afterwards, I couldn’t think in proper sentences. No soliloquies, no trademark ramblings, no poignant speeches. Just pure thoughts floating above the wind. I suppose there was something profound about my state of nonexistence, though it didn’t matter much. It wouldn’t have mattered. But I was glad it did, if only for a little.

In my last moments, I thought of Firenze. I thought of Oba-chan. I thought of the peaceful clouds that hung above.

I thought.