Rarely in his life had Ash felt such pure fury as the one burning in his chest right now.
'Why?' he thought, his single eye fixed on Changing Star's figure. 'Why can nothing ever be simple?'
It wasn't just the eye. It wasn't just the pain throbbing in his empty socket like a malignant heartbeat. It was everything. It was arriving in this damn world without asking for it. It was surviving day after day without a moment's rest. It was knowing secrets he shouldn't know, carrying weight he never asked to bear. It was that every time he tried to take a simple path, the universe made sure to complicate it.
And now this. Two people who weren't even his enemies, forced to attack him by a damn plant.
His right eye, reduced to nothing by the flames of a girl who in other circumstances would probably be a valuable ally.
'I can't catch a single damn break.' He thought angrily.
The rage grew in his chest, hot and dense, but it wasn't blind rage. It was cold. Calculating. The kind of fury that makes you commit actions coldly without caring about future consequences.
Nephis remained on guard, her sword ready, her expression as inscrutable as ever. The white flames on her blade had diminished, but they still glowed faintly, hungry. A few meters behind her, Sunny was trying to get up, one hand pressing the diagonal wound on his chest. The blood had stopped flowing, refusing to leave his body—the bastard must have used his shadow to reinforce his armor—but it was obvious that every movement cost him.
Ash lowered his gaze to his own sword.
The steel was bitten, almost broken in half just above the guard. One more blow and it would shatter. But he wouldn't have the chance to deliver that blow, because even as he watched, small cracks began to spread across the blade like spiderwebs.
Crack.
The sword disintegrated in his hand.
Metal fragments fell towards the sand, but before they touched the ground, they vanished into luminous sparks that danced for an instant in the air before being absorbed into his own chest. He felt the familiar pull, the warm heat in his core, as the remains of his weapon traveled to his Soul Sea to repair themselves.
'It'll take a while to repair.' He thought, looking at his two enemies.
Sunny raised an eyebrow at the phenomenon, his expression a mix of curiosity and alarm.
"What...?"
Ash didn't respond.
Instead, he flexed his fingers. Opened them. Closed them. He felt the tension in his muscles, the electricity running through his arms, the cold fury settling into his bones like an animal finally finding its den.
His left eye fixed on Nephis. Then on Sunny. Then on Nephis again.
And without saying a word, he lunged forward.
The mist parted in his wake.
Nephis reacted instantly, her sword rising to meet him—she expected another clash of steel, another measured exchange of blows. But Ash had no steel. He only had his body, and at that moment, his body was enough.
Her first cut whistled past his ear. Ash didn't dodge by reflex—he dodged because he knew where she was going to strike before she moved her arm. His left hand caught Nephis's wrist in the air, just as she tried to retract the weapon for the next attack.
His fingers closed like a vice.
Nephis frowned, pulling to free herself, but he didn't yield. Instead, he pulled her towards him while his knee rose, aiming for her stomach. She twisted her hips just in time, turning a solid blow into a mere graze, and responded with a headbutt that connected with his chin.
Ash's head snapped back, stars dancing in his peripheral vision. But he didn't let go.
"Nice try," he murmured, his voice hoarse.
His right fist traveled towards her side, finding the space just where the chitin plates of her armor ended. The impact was solid, wet. Nephis expelled air, her fingers opening by reflex. The sword fell to the sand.
But she was already moving, using the momentum to spin and deliver a roundhouse kick that caught him in the shoulder. Ash stepped back, feeling the impact even through his armor.
Sunny arrived from his left in silence, a second before the black tachi sliced through the air where his neck had been. Ash leaned back, feeling the wind of the blade pass grazing his Adam's apple, and when Sunny passed by him, his elbow found the back of the boy's neck.
Sunny fell forward, rolling on the sand, but his training spoke louder than the pain—he turned the fall into a fluid motion that brought him to his knees, his sword ready.
Nephis had already recovered her weapon.
The two stood back to back for an instant, their eyes—one loaded with hatred, the other with cold determination—fixed on him.
Ash felt his lips curl into something that wasn't quite a smile, more like a beast's grimace.
'So this is what it's like to fight the dynamic duo. Truly annoying.'
He lunged again.
This time he didn't go directly towards them. He ran in a wide arc, using the mist as cover, his steps silent on the sand. He saw how both turned to keep him in their field of vision, how their postures instinctively adjusted to cover each other's blind angles.
'Coordinated. Damn, they're so coordinated.'
But Ash had spent a long time observing them.
He knew their rhythms, their habits, the way Sunny always moved a step ahead when Nephis attacked, the way she covered his right flank even before he needed protection.
And he knew their weaknesses.
He emerged from the mist directly in front of Sunny.
The boy reacted with the speed of a survivor—his tachi came up to block, his body retreating to gain distance—but Ash didn't take the bait. Instead of attacking, he ducked, his leg sweeping Sunny's in a low move that sent him to the ground.
"Damn...!"
Sunny hit the sand, but was already rolling to get up when Ash reached him. A kick to the ribs. A knee to the thigh. A blow to the shoulder that spun him around. Each impact didn't just hurt—something else traveled through the contact, a heavy intention seeking not his body but something deeper.
Sunny gasped when the last blow connected, his expression clouding for an instant, as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.
That instant was enough.
Ash turned just as Nephis arrived, her sword once again imbued with white flames. The heat was suffocating, oppressive, but Ash didn't retreat. He stepped into the attack, feeling how the flames licked his armor, how the smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils.
His hand caught her wrist again. This time, when she tried to free herself, he moved with her instead of resisting. They spun together, a strange dance of strength and fierce determination until he was behind her, his arm around her neck.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered against her ear.
Nephis responded with an elbow backward that found his rib. Ash felt something give way inside him, a sharp pain that stole his breath, but he didn't loosen his grip. His other arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers digging into the flesh just where the armor ended, and squeezed.
She arched her back, a sound escaping her lips—not a scream, never a scream, but something close.
Sunny was getting up, his tachi ready, but hesitated. Nephis and Ash were too close, their bodies entangled in a struggle that was both physical and primal. A misdirected attack might hit Nephis instead of Ash.
That hesitation cost him.
Ash suddenly released Nephis, pushing her towards Sunny. She collided with him, both staggering, and when they looked up, Ash was already upon them.
There was no mercy in his blows. No hesitation or doubt. His fists found flesh again and again—shoulders, ribs, arms raised to protect faces. Each impact sent waves of something more than pain through his enemies. He could see it in their eyes, in the way their movements became slower, clumsier. As if a part of them was depleting, consuming from within.
Sunny fell to his knees first. His tachi lay in the sand a meter away, too far to reach. His chest rose and fell with effort, the diagonal wound reopened without spilling blood. But more than the wound on his chest, it was his gaze that had changed—it was glassy, absent, as if he were looking at something only he could see.
Nephis was still standing.
But barely.
Her sword trembled in her hand. Blood dripped from a cut above her eyebrow, sliding down her face and falling from her chin. Her posture, always perfect, had crumbled—shoulders slumped, knees slightly bent not from strategy but from necessity.
Her white eyes met Ash's.
And for a moment, just a moment, he saw something in them that wasn't determination. Wasn't pride. Wasn't that damn impassive mask she wore like a second skin.
Tiredness.
Ash stopped.
His chest expanded and contracted rhythmically, each breath a controlled effort. Blood dried on multiple minor cuts scattered across his body—none deep, thanks to his armor, but enough to drain energy. The skin around his empty socket was a map of burns and damaged tissue.
But he remained standing.
Nephis too. Barely. Waiting.
Ash raised his fist.
One more blow and... it would all end. And so he did.
Ash slammed his fist into Changing Star's face. His blow affected her soul directly, sending her into the world of unconsciousness.
Ash looked at Sunny, who was crawling towards his tachi. Ash kicked the tachi away, then, under Sunny's gaze, kicked his head hard. The boy's body collapsed limply to the ground. The black sword disappeared in sparks, as did Changing Star's sword.
Ash deactivated the mist enchantment. The mist disappeared just as it had arrived, leaving him exhausted.
Falling to sit on the sand, Ash grimaced, full of pain.
His battle, though it had lasted less than five full minutes, had resulted in a large number of wounds all over his body, and the loss of an eye, plus several broken or damaged bones.
Ash looked at the shadow that had stopped strengthening its master, a judging look in its white eyes.
"Don't look at me like that. Be grateful I didn't kill them," said Ash.
Then, with an annoyed grunt, he got to his feet, dragging first Nephis like a sack of potatoes through the sand to where the boat was, then did the same with Sunny. Finally, he reached where Cassie was. She yelled at him, but he really didn't listen and simply knocked her out. He didn't have time to convince the girl when she was under the influence of the fallen Terror.
Placing the three in the boat, he watched the last rays of light as the dark sea filled the crater, beginning to spread.
Ash made a bonfire, leaving a trail of leaves to the trunk.
Once night fell, he abandoned the Burial Mound. Using Cassie's blue cloak and the wooden staff, as well as a scythe as a steering oar, he moved away from that Burial Mound, vowing to make that Terror suffer.
Ash watched how the Soul Tree became a huge bonfire, then looked the other way, refusing to look at the ghostly mist, not wanting another encounter with the unknown thing that wanted to shatter his soul, especially as tired, exhausted, and weakened as he was.
It wouldn't be until some time later, once far from the effect of the fallen Terror, that the three would wake up as themselves once more.