Tysone dreamed of fire.
He stood on the street outside the mansion. The neighborhood was on fire, everything ablaze. Houses crumbled. The air was choked with ash. But as the flames neared, they seemed to shy away. Tysone stepped closer, his foot raised. Slowly, he stepped through. But the fires parted. It was as if he were in the midst of a wildfire, yet the fire refused to consume him. It felt warm against his skin—his body, his soul, and the world was ablaze. His vision swam, the flames seemed alive. It was surreal and terrifying.
As the dream shifted and morphed, the world twisted around. And there he stood on the roof of a tall building in the center of a burning city. In his dream he saw figures darting through the smoke. He couldn't make them out, their identities obscured by the thick gray clouds that roiled and billowed.
Then the fire around him began to shimmer with different colors, like an aurora of flames. Tysone lifted his hands, and in their wake, flames danced.
Bright, vibrant hues. A fire of red and violet.
In his palm a ball of flames danced, twirling and spinning, yet leaving no burns, no mark on his hands. Tysone reached out with his free hand, touching a finger to the ball. His mind wandered to different things, and the ball of fire followed. Each of his thoughts and intentions, the fire seemed to manifest.
It was strange, and beautiful. A world of fire, yet not a single thing seemed to burn.
Then, the flames in the city billowed, growing, expanding, becoming a literal hellhole. The gouts of fire slithered through the city's corners like snakes, slowly advancing, crawling up buildings, and eventually—inevitably—Tysone as well. The last thing he saw was a pair of glowing crimson eyes, slitted, as the flames swallowed him, sending his consciousness reeling back to reality, waking up.
He snapped his eyes open. His heartbeat quick and hard.
...
The first sensation that registered in his senses was the dampness on his forehead, along with a faint throbbing sensation, and an uncomfortable stickiness all over his body. Tysone blinked the haze from his vision. The room was dark, but that didn't hinder his enhanced vision and clarity. Everything was as clear as if the sun was shining in the middle of a cloudless day.
He ran a hand on his forehead, realizing that he'd been drenched in sweat all over. He heaved a sigh, flexing his limbs. The sluggish feeling in his muscles had vanished, as if it was nothing more than a distant nightmare. With one fluid motion, Tysone threw the covers off, and swung his legs onto the bedside. A small, relieved smile made its way to his features, at that moment.
At last he felt better again, a little sore and stiff, but in no ways worse than if he'd simply just woken up from sleeping.
In fact, there was an undercurrent in his veins. A wisp of burning energy that felt alive, pulsing with every heartbeat. Tysone flexed his fingers, feeling the warmth travel through his arms, down to his legs. It was strange, almost electric, but not painful.
He rose from the bed, testing his balance. His muscles were stronger, his movements quicker. Even the soreness from before felt lighter, as if his body had been rebuilt while he slept.
A small smile curved his lips. Whatever had happened with the core, it had changed him. Not just healed him, but made him… more.
He looked at the mirror; nothing much had changed from before. Sure, his muscles were firmer and more pleasing to look at. However, if there was one thing that seemed slightly out of place, were his eyes. They were lighter—not so much that it'd make them easily noticeable, but it definitely could be if someone analyzed them from up close.
Perhaps someone that had been interacting with Tysone on a daily basis might notice something off, but not be able to immediately connect the dots. It was interesting. It seemed like it wasn't uncommon for 'cores' to alter someone's appearance on top of granting power.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. "Come in." His voice was full of energy.
The door swung open and a figure walked in. Saya.
Saya. With all her petite and fiery self.
"You're up and walking about. Good to see that you are back to your old self. That idiotic, reckless and brave old self, I must say." There was no ire in her tone. She sounded amused, more than anything.
Her words sparked a flurry of thoughts in his head.
"I did end up being reckless, yeah... but the bastard could've posed a huge threat if continued as it is, or worse, if it evolved any further. It had to die." Tysone ran his fingers through his dark locks, ruffling his already tousled hair even more. "Besides, we made it out alive. And everyone's in one piece. Right?"
Saya's eyes roamed his figure. He was shirtless; he must've gotten undressed while he tried to sleep. Not surprising, considering how hot he was. "Right, I suppose." She gulped. Now, some of that contagious hotness relocated to her cheeks. Slowly, she closed the door while looking away, but made no motion of going away or towards him. "So, umh, how are you feeling?"
Tysone flexed his arms, groaning at the pleasant sensation. The pain and discomfort from before was all but gone. "Good. Great, actually. I don't feel like shit." His lips quirked up at the side, as his eyes roved the beautiful Japanese girl that seemed intent on looking everywhere except him.
"Your eyes..." She finally said, as she noticed the slight difference in their color and gleam. As Tysone himself observed, they weren't that much brighter to make it immediately noticeable, or not as much that Saya wouldn't have missed it.
The boy in question merely shrugged.
"It must have something to do with the core you've absorbed. Have you checked anywhere else?" Saya's cheeks reddened considerably at the sight of the shirtless and handsome boy in front of her. And, in reality, how couldn't she?
Tysone blinked, then pulled his pants and underwear just enough to check—half because of curiosity, half because he figured if cores changed anything else, he'd rather know before someone else pointed it out.
"Oh shit, Saya!" He freaked out. "Oh shit!"
"W-W-What?!" She squeaked, panic creeping into her voice.
"You need to look at this. Look at this!" Tysone said, looking at her with concern. Saya had never seen him so frantic and desperate before. It was enough to make her run over to him, fearing the worst. "My dick, man! Look at this fucking thing!"
And look she did.
And gape.
"What the fuck?!" Her jaw almost hit the ground. "What the fuck?! What's this? It's a cock, right?"
"Yes, and it's mine." He nodded, satisfied. All of the concern and anxiety were washed off from him, replaced with the look of a man that had gotten what he wanted. "Hehe, look at you, I didn't know you were that desperate to take a peek at what good ol' Ty is packing in his pants."
She looked at him, as if slapped by the statement. "You... what the fuck?" She stomped, but before he could say anything else, she was all over it. "I thought... I thought... it fucking mutated or something! Or worse!" Gritting her teeth, she assaulted him. "You dummy! Idiot! Dumbass! You made me l-l-l-look at that t-t-thing! You're truly a pervert! A huge fucking pervert! Asshole! Die—"
Tysone shut her up with a kiss, wrapping an arm around her, dragging her close. He held onto her hip and forced their lips to remain in touch.
Saya, on the other hand, didn't do anything but stand still. But that lasted for only a moment.
Slowly, her arms rose to circle his neck. And she pressed her body flush against his. Her mouth opened and her tongue came in to wrap itself around his. She continued muttering in-between their exchange of kisses. Idiot. Dumb. Yankee. And an incoherent slew of insults.
If there was one thing she couldn't control was her mouth, but Tysone was having none of that. The young girl melted against him. The longer she did, the more she lost herself into the warmth of his body, the roughness of his kisses.
His hand lowered to grip her tight backside, while the other squeezed the opposite cheek. His actions tore a whimper from Saya, whose eyes seemed to spiral in a hazy of lust and anxiety. Tysone's lips felt different than usual... his lips were warmer, as was his tongue, and his touch, and his everything.
Her heart throbbed in a strange fashion. The girl was scared. Of what was happening. How her body responded, reacted to the stimulation. It was far more than the usual, that she'd experienced.
There was something that made this moment surreal and terrifying at once.
Saya Takagi knew one thing.
It felt good—too fucking good. Her hands wrapped around his head as she kissed him back with everything that she had.
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at [email protected]/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.