She traversed the streets, waiting for something. A sound. An announcement. A voice that would bring her back to where she had come from. The beach perhaps. To him maybe.
She remembered them as she walked.
Nearly every member of her clan had fallen by her hand.
The ones she had hunted beside.
The ones she had shared meals with around firelight.
The ones she had traded sake.
The ones she had crossed blades with in training.
The ones who had shaped her, corrected her, and hardened her.
One by one, she had cut them down.
Each face returned to her now, not as enemies, but as fragments of a life she had once belonged to.
Then a thought struck her with sudden force.
Chika.
The girl was still somewhere in the settlement.
Ayame slowed.
Her gaze moved through the ruined paths, following the broken roads between bloodstained huts and dying fires.
She began searching.
Her footsteps traced familiar routes, the same roads they had once run through as children, the same corners where laughter had once lived.
"Chika," she called, her voice light, almost playful.
A strange softness touched her tone, as though she were calling for a child who had wandered too far.
Perhaps it was to draw her out.
Or perhaps it was to warn her.
To make her presence known before she found her.
She moved like a broken record. "Chika. Chika. Chika, come out and play."
Her voice was soft. So soft and enchanting. It carried through the empty streets like a soft lullaby.
'It has to be done. It has to be finished.'
She reasoned with herself. She did not understand what the rift was asking of her and why it was so important to completely erase her clan. Nobody understood the nature of the rifts. As for her understanding, they were completely opposed to the characteristics and blessings of Mother Fate, that's what her past organisation uncovered.
But she did not care. Blood lust clouded her vision. One man scrambled away. Someone she had failed to finish from before. The man crawled away. It was one of her kind. It gave her all the confirmation she needed.
She weaved a blood blade. Stepped on his leg and thrust with her remaining mangled arm. It hurt. The killing or the arm, she did not know which, but it hurt.
She continued moving slowly. Chika.
'Chika.' A lullaby.
"Chika. Chika. Chika, come out and play."
Her voice was soft. So soft and enchanting. It carried through the empty streets like a lullaby made of death.
She passed more bodies. More homes. The settlement that had been so alive with her people was now silent. Only the crackling of fires remained. Only the smell of blood and smoke.
She found her near the shrine. The place where they had prayed together. Where the girl had smiled and talked about the future.
Chika stood there. Small. Trembling. Her horn catching the moonlight. She was not crying. She was just standing there. Waiting.
"Ayame san," she said quietly. "I knew you would come."
She approached slowly. The blade still in her hand. Blood still dripping from her fingers.
"This is the trial," she said. Her voice was empty. Hollow. "This is what it demands."
"I know," the girl said. "I am not real. None of this is real."
A brief shocked expression crossed her face. "Yes."
"But it hurts anyway, does it not? Knowing what you have done. Even if we are not real."
She did not answer. She just kept approaching. One step. Then another.
The girl smiled. That same bright smile. "It is okay, Ayame san. I understand. You have to survive."
She came to a halt before the girl and lifted the blood forged blade.
'Survive. Yes. That is the objective. Nothing more.'
She wondered why she was doing this. Why did it have to be this way? Was there truly no other path to close a rift?
If Lucid were here, would he have done the same? Would he have stained his hands with the same acts she had committed?
For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to the Beta Rift. Back then, when her organization had plotted against the Kingdom of Vex, when everything had seemed hopeless, she had promised to leave this world alongside him in a shared death. Yet time and time again, he had proven her wrong.
Again and again, he had chosen a path she had never even considered.
And so, in that single moment, a question surfaced within her heart.
Would he have done this differently?
Would he have surrendered to the conditions of the rift and accepted that there was no other choice?
For someone so determined to preserve life, someone who stubbornly clung to his humanity no matter the cost, she found herself wishing she knew the answer.
She had spent years convincing herself that emotions were weaknesses to be discarded. After slaughtering her own clan, she had embraced the belief that she was an oni, a monster that no longer deserved the comforts of a human heart. It was easier that way. Easier to believe she had already crossed the line and could never return.
Yet Lucid had never accepted such excuses.
No matter how cruel the world became, no matter how impossible the odds before him, he continued to struggle without abandoning the person he wished to be.
Only then did she begin to understand the true burden he carried.
The girl regarded her with knowing eyes. "You look sad, Ayame san."
"I do not feel sadness. Oni do not process emotion that way."
"Then why do you hesitate?"
"I do not hesitate. This is strategic assessment."
The girl laughed softly. It was a gentle sound. Warm. "You are lying to yourself again. Just like when you say you only stay near him because he is useful."
There it was again, she was speaking of things she could not possibly know. Ayame dismissed it and replied calmly like it was a normal discussion.
The girl nodded slowly. She gazed up at the blade. At the blood covering it. At the oni who had slaughtered everyone she knew. "Ayame san. Can I ask you something?"
"Speak."
"Do you think the world is cruel?"
She considered the question. "The world is neutral. Cruelty is a human concept."
"But you have seen cruelty, have you not? You have experienced it."
"I have experienced survival. Competition for resources. Natural order."
"Is that what this is? Natural order?"
She regarded the girl. Small. Fragile. Waiting for death with strange acceptance. "No. This is a trial. A test. It demands blood."
"And you will give it what it demands."
"Yes."
"Because you want to return to the real world?"
"Because I need to complete the objective."
The girl smiled again. Sad but understanding. "You are still lying to yourself. But that is okay. I think... I think sometimes we need to lie to ourselves. To do what must be done."
She was silent for a moment.
"I do not understand much. But I understand this. You are going to kill me now. And it will hurt you. Even if you say it will not. Even if you tell yourself you feel nothing. It will hurt."
"Oni do not—"
"I know. Oni do not feel pain that way. Oni do not process emotion. Oni are ruthless and cold." The girl's voice was gentle. "But you are lying, Ayame san. You have been lying for a long time."
She said nothing. The blade remained raised.
The girl's voice dropped to a whisper. "Will it hurt? When you do it?"
"No. It will be quick."
"Good. I am glad. I do not want to feel pain." The girl paused. "Will it hurt you?"
"I do not—"
"You do not feel pain that way. I know." The girl closed her eyes. "Thank you for being kind to me, Ayame san. Even when the others were not. Even when you did not have to be."
She placed her hand on the girl's head. Stroked her hair. The motion was efficient. Practical. A method to calm prey before slaughter.
That was what she told herself.
"Chika."
"Yes, Ayame san?"
"You were... acceptable company."
The girl laughed softly. "That is the kindest thing you have ever said to me."
She drove the blade through the girl's heart.
Quick, clean and efficient.
The girl gasped once. Then fell forward. She caught her. Lowered her gently to the ground.
The light left her eyes.
She knelt there. Holding the small body. Blood soaking into her robes. The moons above shining down like witnesses.
Her face remained empty. Expressionless. She did not cry. Oni did not cry. Tears served no function. Provided no tactical advantage, in a way they were a waste of hydration.
She slowly lowered her body to the ground, settling into an eternal slumber, and closed her unfocused eyes. As her gaze drifted upward past her face, they began to break apart into white motes, fragments peeling away like dust caught in the wind. Soon, her hand followed, dissolving in the same quiet pattern.
Ayame looked up.
She did not understand why it hurt.
But it hurt in the same way amusement had always found a way to creep into her mind.
Now, sadness did.
***
Trial concluded.
Objective: Kill your blood relatives and clan members.
Trial rank: C
Time: 24 hours.
***
Performance: Stellar.
Vanquished foe: 30.
Duration: 12 hours.
Reward: 50,000 Fate Essence.
Ascension: You have awakened your thread of fate.
Status: Awakened.
You have awakened your Latent Trait: [Blood Shaping] >>>> [Blood Manipulation]
You have been blessed with a Bloodline Trait: [ Morwen's Bloodlust] [Sellenia's Grace]
May your journey lead you toward enlightenment.
***