“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and terror.
Sugat nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the man—the thing—that had once been Neyoundo Duquel. “He wasn’t a protector,” Sugat said, his voice dropping into a lonely, bitter rasp. “He was a predator masking as one.”
Hiraya stood speechless, her eyes traveling from the carnage to the boy beside her. “I thought famine was the only rot in this kingdom,” she whispered, “but the secrets go so much deeper.” She turned to Sugat, a small, genuine smile breaking through her exhaustion. “The vision was right, Sugat. You’re the one.”
“Please don’t start with the ‘Chosen One’ speech again,” Sugat yelped, though his tone was soft. “It gives me goosebumps, and not the good kind.”
Hiraya let out a small, tired chuckle. “Your blood power... it’s incredible. But it’s dangerous, Sugat. I can feel the toll it’s taking on you.”
Sugat looked at the crimson crystals still embedded in Neyoundo’s flesh; they were slowly evaporating into red mist. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I did it. I just wanted to—” He didn't finish the sentence. A sudden, massive thump echoed in his chest, like a drum being struck in a hollow cavern.
His knees buckled. The regeneration had mended his flesh, but it had emptied his spirit. Sugat swayed and collapsed. Hiraya caught him before he hit the dirt, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Sugat! What’s happening?” she cried, her voice breaking.
Sugat’s eyes fluttered, a half-delirious, half-prophetic grin touching his lips. “I just wanted... to matter...” Then, the darkness took him gently.
Hiraya stared at the discarded white armor, the blood residue shimmering faintly against the dents. A realization struck her like lightning without thunder. “Your blood doesn’t merely forge weapons,” she murmured. “It forges revelation.”
She looked at the boy—the one they called cursed, the one who carried a phoenix without a name. “The feasts disguise famine, and the crowns disguise carnage. If your blood can unmask a captain... what might it do to a king?”
She slung Sugat onto her back, her jaw set in a line of grim determination, and vanished into the trees.
Later that night, the forest echoed with the rhythmic clank of marching steel. A large group of Sentinels entered the clearing, their torches casting flickering, orange shadows against the wreckage.
Lieutenant Kray, a massive, serious man with armor that reflected the moonlight like polished silver, stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell happened here?”
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“Sir! We found bodies!” a sentinel shouted, his voice high and trembling.
Kray rushed forward. His eyes widened at the sight of the elite guards, torn apart as if by a whirlwind of blades. “This wasn't done by a human,” Kray muttered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his kampilan.
“Sir! The Captain!” another shout rang out.
Kray ran toward the center of the crater. His breath hitched. Captain Neyoundo lay there, his armor gone, his body riddled with horrific, jagged holes. The silence that followed was suffocating. Kray reached into his pocket and pulled out a wanted poster: Shadowless and the Witch. 200,000 Reward. He crumpled the paper in his fist, his eyes turning into slits of dark fury. “Get the bodies to the carriages. Now!” He stared up at the full moon, his teeth gritted. “You bastards... I’ll find you.”
The next morning, a lone wagon filled with rice straw rattled along a bumpy forest road, miles away from the city. Sugat jolted awake, choking on a sharp inhale of dust. He was buried deep, the smell of dried hay filling his lungs.
Beside him, Hiraya sat upright, flicking golden stalks from her dark cloak. “You’ve brushed shoulders with death twice now,” she whispered, her smile warm. “You look like the forest chewed you up and spit you back out.”
“Did I die?” Sugat blinked groggily. “Why am I in a pile of straw?”
“We had no choice. Reinforcements were coming,” Hiraya explained. “I dragged you to the road and found this passing wagon. The driver didn’t even notice us slip inside.”
Sugat looked at his palm. The glow was gone. His hand was shaking—a dull, heavy guilt settling in his gut. “What have I done?” he murmured.
Hiraya, sensing the heavy atmosphere, leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “How much blood do you actually have? Is there a factory in there?” She started to laugh, but the force of it caused a small, sudden poot to escape.
The silence that followed was absolute. Hiraya’s face turned a brilliant, searing red. Sugat stared at her, his eyes wide.
“Did you just...?”
“It was the straw!” she squeaked, tears of embarrassment pricking her eyes.
Sugat burst into a roar of laughter, the tension of the previous night finally breaking. “Why do I always witness your most embarrassing moments!”
“Shut up!” Hiraya shouted, throwing handfuls of straw at his face.
Suddenly, the wagon lurched to a halt. The driver, an old man with wild eyes, jumped down and stormed to the back. “Stowaways! Trespassers!” He pulled a small itak from his belt, pointing it at them. “Get out! You rascals, move!”
“We just needed a ride!” Hiraya yelled as she and Sugat leaped from the wagon and sprinted into the safety of the trees.
“We’re sorry!” Sugat shouted back, his laughter still echoing through the canopy as the angry driver’s silhouette faded into the distance.
They walked in silence for a long time, the canopy overhead shielding them from the morning sun. Sugat’s mind was a storm. He looked down at his feet—still no shadow. The dizzying memory of the Phoenix and the blood-crystals made his chest tighten.
“What’s wrong?” Hiraya asked, noticing his hesitation.
“I don’t think I should be fighting things like that,” Sugat admitted, his voice small. “I’m not a hero, Hiraya.”
Hiraya stopped. She looked at the flickering flames of the small campfire she had just ignited. “I have no memories of where I came from, Sugat. When I first woke up, all I felt was betrayal and a deep, burning anger. I saw cities flaunting riches while children starved in the gutters. I hated it. I wanted revenge for the innocent.”
She met his eyes, her own glistening with unshed tears. “I almost gave up. How was I supposed to fight a kingdom alone? But then I found you. When you beat that Captain... my hope came back.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her face flushing slightly. “I need your power, Sugat. The people need you.”
For the first time, Sugat didn't feel the cold weight of a curse. He looked at this girl who treated him like a person, who didn't fear his emptiness. He felt a new warmth—not from the fire, but from a sense of purpose.
The forest felt watchful, but for the first time, Sugat wasn't afraid of the dark.
NEXT ARC: THE MASK VILLAGE
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Itak (n.): A traditional Filipino short sword or long knife. Unlike the Kampilan used by the high-ranking Sentinels of Hera for war, the Itak is a tool of the common folk. It is used for clearing brush, harvesting crops, and—when pushed to the brink—defending one's home. It represents the raw, unpolished strength of the people.
AUTHOR’S FINAL WORD: Don’t forget to Follow and Rate! Your support provides the "mana" I need to update the next chapters faster. See you in the Mask Village!
Markuzero