Pain was the only thing that told him he was alive.
It burned in his chest. Sharp, jagged, pulsing in time with every heartbeat that felt too faint to belong to him. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey.
He opened his eyes and immediately choked.
The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burning wood and scorched earth. He wasn't in his apartment anymore. He was lying in the damp dirt, staring up through the canopy of massive, twisted trees whose branches almost blocked out the entire sky.
This place wasn't real. At least, not a place he had ever seen.
Before his thoughts could settle, a deafening whistle tore through the air.
A sphere of orange flame, trailing black smoke, arced over the shattered trees and screamed straight toward him.
"Move!" he tried to shout.
No words came out.
His legs were stiff, numb, and useless. He threw his arms up in a blind panic, bracing for the impact that could definitely end him then and there.
Then the world seemed to slow.
His vision flared white, and a torrent of fractured memories crashed into his mind like a breaking dam.
Sidlak.
A name surfaced first. It was strange and unfamiliar, and yet undeniably his.
Images followed. A small wooden home. Two warm faces smiling down at him. The smell of fruit and rain. Then fire. Screams. Bone-masked figures cutting through the grove like monsters out of a nightmare.
His parents dying.
His chest tightened. No. Not now. This wasn't the time for this.
Whatever these memories were, whatever body he was in, he was about to die again.
The blackened orb of fire roared past his ear, the heat so intense it singed the fine hairs on his neck. It slammed into a Sun-Gold fruit tree behind him.
The fruit detonated like organic grenades, spraying boiling, glowing nectar across the ground. The tree collapsed in on itself, charred black in seconds.
"So precious…" he whispered hoarsely.
Then the realization hit him harder than the blast.
"I'm in deep shit," he muttered. His voice was high, shaky. Wrong.
His eyes widened. "I… I'm a kid?"
A figure stepped out of the smoke.
He wore a mask made of white bone, its hollow eye sockets darting, looking for a target. In his left hand was a wooden staff, and a dagger in the other. He raised his staff, and an orange flame started growing above it. Growing hotter by the second.
Sidlak tried to crawl back. His hands slipped in the dirt.
Before the cultist could strike, a sharp voice cut through the chaos.
"Move out of the way, kid!"
The command was loud and absolute.
From the edge of the smoke, a woman appeared. She seemed to slide through the air, her feet barely touching the grass, the wind carrying her forward.
"She's…. flying! Ermm, almost," Sidlak breathed.
She wore a white battle armor that shimmered even in the dark grove. Her hair fluttered in the wind. She seemed to ride the very currents of the air, her feet skimming the tops of the grass without ever fully planting them. With a smooth motion, she unsheathed a long, thin, curved blade from her waist.
SHING.
The sound rang out like a bird's cry.
She glided past Sidlak so fast that a gust of wind knocked him over. To his eyes, she looked like a white streak of light flying straight toward the cultist.
The bone-masked man snarled, flames roaring higher.
"Green Gale scum! You are too late! I just have to stall you for a bit, and these Sun-gold fruits are ours for the taking."
He swung his staff, throwing the fireball at the woman.
She didn't slow.
With a twist of her body, she spun in mid-air. Her bone necklace chimed softly as the explosion tore past beneath her. The earth was scorched, but it missed her.
"You cultist scum," she coldly said. "I'll end all of you today."
She landed a few feet from the cultist and pointed her glowing blade at his throat. The air around her started to spin, lifting the fallen leaves in a circle.
Sidlak stared, eyes wide open.
Green Gale Sect…
The memory clicked into place.
The woman moved again. Each swing filled with ethereal grace, the wind moved with it, slicing through smoke and heat alike.
"Gale Sword Slash!"
A wave of green energy shot from her blade. The air itself seemed to turn into a giant knife. It tore through the trees as it raced straight towards the cultist's neck.
The man in the bone mask panicked.
"Molten Earth Aegis!"
He stabbed his staff into the ground. A crude wall of molten, black-orange magma erupted upward just in time.
The collision was explosive.
BOOM!
The cultist was hurled backward.
The woman stood, unmoved.
The shockwave blasted Sidlak off his knees. He scrambled in the dirt, heart pounding, eyes darting between them.
That's when he noticed.
She was breathing in a strange, rhythmic way.
Slow. Deep. Rhythmic.
With every breath, the surrounding air flowed into her body, wrapping her in a faint glow.
This is cultivation, he realized.
But this doesn't look like the ones I've read about.
The cultist scrambled to his feet and turned to flee, but it was too late. The woman was already there. Her blade was a blur of silver and green light, arriving at his neck.
The man wasn't even able to scream.
Blood dripping from his neck, the masked man crushed a black bead in his palm.
"A Mutya of Retribution! This is bad," the woman cried. Seeing this, the woman scrambled to her feet.
Bone-chilling chanting filled the area.
Then his body ignited.
A massive explosion engulfed the clearing.
Heat swallowed everything. Trees wilted instantly. The ground beneath them charred to a deep black. Anything within ten meters turned to ash.
The woman's eyes widened. She sheathed her blade. She didn't strike again, she turned and dove toward Sidlak.
"Brace yourself!"
As her shadow fell over him, Sidlak's vision went dark. But in that void, the world froze. A translucent, golden screen flickered into existence against the backdrop of the encroaching darkness.
[UNRANKED SOUL DETECTED]
[Initiating Host Integration...]
Name: Sidlak
Rank: Commoner (Unawakened)
Talent Level: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆
Nature Affinity: Wind / Lightning
Attributes:
Vitality: 2
Strength: 2
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 2
Status:
> Condition: Near Death
Warning: Physical shell failing.
[Emergency Stasis Initiated...]
The golden screen pulsed once, and then the text dissolved into a thousand sparks that felt like they were stitching his soul back together. The heat, the smell of burnt fruits, and the weight of the woman's armor all vanished into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When the dust settled, the grove was a blackened scar on the earth. The woman knelt in the center of the ash, her white armor scorched, her breathing ragged. She looked down at the unconscious boy in her arms.
"He survived?" she whispered, checking his pulse. Her eyes traced the soot on his face.
"A mere child, not even a Timawa, surviving a suicide-blast by a Maharlika... you have the luck of the Bathalas."
She looked toward the horizon, where more smoke was rising. She stood, lifting him with one arm, her gaze intently on his face.
"Problems just keep on coming. I'll let the people of the sect handle your situation," she said silently, stepping into the wind and vanishing into the trees.