Chapter 5 — The Scars of Childhood
He emerges into this inner world, slowly. The outside world enveloped him again, rough, burning, indifferent.
The desert. Again him. The infinity of sand. The suffocating heat. Solitude.
He was no longer in his inner world. More in this black and white immensity where his souls floated. The smiling girl had remained there, somewhere in the hollow of him, frozen in this light suspended between peace and grief.
Here, he was alone.
And his body was screaming.
Every fibre of his muscles was on fire, every bone seemed to want to break, every nerve vibrated with pain. The thirst still burned his throat, but now it was accompanied by a more insidious heaviness: that of the weight of truth.
- "I'm in pain... everywhere..."
His hoarse voice was just a breath. A breath that scratched against his split lips, which trembled in pain. He dragged himself out of the sand, slowly, painfully, barely moaning, as if he was afraid that even the desert would hear his weakness.
Then, in the midst of this suffering, a thought, almost ridiculous, arises in his dried up mind:
"I have a new ability... To jump. "
A bitter smile stretched his cracked lips.
The girl whose body he had absorbed... she wanted to jump higher than all her rivals. This dream still resonated in him, fragile, pure, tenacious. He clung to this idea like a rope stretched over an abyss.
He used the sleeping ability of his new jump higher ability: You can jump 5x higher than your ordinary jump. The power of his dream is now in you.
He bandaged his thin legs, felt his muscles scream. He didn't know how much strength it was going to take. He did it without thinking.
And he jumped.
Twelve metres.
The moment was unreal. The ground moved away. The air whistled. His heart leapes in his chest, crazy with vertigo and hope. He saw above the dune, in the distance... a tree. And near the tree... a bright point.
Water.
His salute.
But his euphoria was brief.
— "Shit..."
He had forgotten the fall.
He fell like a stone. A sharp pain tore his side as he hit the ground. He rolled several metres, lifting a cloud of sand. A hoarse cry escaped from his throat, brutal and without elegance.
— "No... no..."
He gasped, trembling, the bruised body. He remained there, lying in a grotesque posture, broken but alive.
- "I have... I'm lucky today..."
The sarcasm was useless, but he needed to say something, so as not to sink into silence. Don't go crazy.
Before his fogged eyes, his table of abilities slowly opened, like a parchment of light. A small glow flashed:
Utilisation: 1/100 - Ability to "Spout higher" progressed.
One step. One in a hundred. But he was still alive.
Crawling, staggering, he finally reached the bright point. A source. Small. Fragile. But very real.
He doesn't like it right away.
He knew.
He remembered his years on the street, when he was still a kid among others, a dog lost in a merciless city. Drinking too fast, when you are dehydrated, is assured death. His stomach would not withstand the shock.
He took a sip. Only one.
The icy liquid descended like lightning in his throat. His body trembled. He even thought he heard his heart sigh with relief.
Then he sat down. Half collapsed. Half relieved.
Fatigue, pain, confusion... everything remained there. But basically, something was starting to emerge. A will. A crumb of control. A tiny seed of hope.
Until he hears a voice.
— "What are you doing here? "
Ken raised his head suddenly, his senses on alert.
A boy, blonde, stood there.
He wore clothes that he immediately recognised: clothes from his world. But not like those of a high school student. These clothes were worn, fitted, designed to move, designed to survive. Too clean for a civilian. Too strange for a lost tourist.
The boy had cold, detached eyes. His face looked young, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old like him, but his eyes... his eyes were not those of a teenager. They were eyes that had seen death too closely. Eyes too quiet.
Ken felt his body stiffen. His mind, still traumatised by his meeting with Zian, immediately sought to defend himself. This boy, who seemed almost familiar, gave off a tension that Ken knew too well.
A tension of being broken human like him.
He thought: It's exactly the same question as Zian...
And Zian wanted to kill him.
He inhaled, straightened up slightly, keeping his distance.
— "I woke up here. I was... thirsty. "
His voice was neutral, raw. No provocation. No weakness. Just a naked truth, bordering on exhaustion.
The blonde stared at him for a long time, without answering.
Then he says:
"You're not the first. "
Ken raised an eyebrow, without understanding.
- "I don't come from this world either. I woke up a little later, a few days ago. "
The boy approached, and without even introducing himself, he knelt at the water's edge. He also scores. Slowly. Methodically. As if he knew the rules. As if he had survived worse.
Then he finally straightened up and planted his eyes in Ken's.
"Ashen Ryū. "
He paused, as if he was testing his own name in this new world.
— "Ancient of the Black Orphanage. "
These words fell like blades. Ken felt a breath of anguish rising in him without knowing why.
Ashen continued, imperturbable.
- "The Black Orphanage is an organisation in my world. They take orphaned or sold children, and they turn them into weapons. We are taught to kill before we can read. "
He straightened up, looked at the colourless sky.
"Now I'm free. Very, very far from that. "
He had a hollow laugh, almost sad.
- "You know... I have a dream. "
Ken stared at him, suspicious.
- "It's not personal to say that to a stranger. "
Ashen shrugged his shoulders.
"I have been locked up in our world for a long time. So I speak. Because I can. "
He was silent for a moment. Then resumed:
"I was born to kill. And I was sent here for a reason I still don't know. "
An icy silence settled between them.
Then he says, almost with a bit of hope:
- "Maybe... I have a new chance to live normally. "
Ken understood. This boy was not a potential friend. Not an enemy either. He was... an anomaly. Like him. Another fragment of a broken world, propelled here by a foreign will.
Two survivors. Two broken beings. Two possible monsters.
Ken whispered, almost to himself:
"This world... is really a nightmare."
Then he added, his eyes fixed on the water source, as if he saw a reflection of his dream:
- "...or a paradise. For me, it may be a paradise. Because it's the only place where I can talive out my dream. "
Ashen had a brief smile. A smile without joy.
- "Me too. "
⸻
But a little further north, far from their voices, far from their breaths, Zian had just shot down the third foreigner. With a cold, precise gesture, without emotion.
His gaze now swept the horizon, the grains of sand carrying truth.
"There are two left. "
His eyes narrowed slightly. His title informed him of a crucial fact:
⸻
Title: Prince of the Celestial Court of the Vermillon Bird
Effect: Omniscient in the cursed desert (sees all)
⸻
He lives. He understood. Ken was not dead.
Not yet.
- "it won't last long"
And in a silent explosion, he jumped, at an inhuman speed, towards the two remaining anomalies.
⸻
End of Chapter 5