It was a day late in his childhood. The sky was vast and blue with some clouds. Mountains and lakes were visible between the clouds. Birds flew freely through them. After a while, a single feather detached from a bird's wing and slowly descended earthward.
As the feather passed through the soft clouds, the mood shifted. Beneath the clouds, a dark and ominous storm brewed. The sun abruptly vanished, swallowed by encroaching gloom. The feather landed in a puddle. Raindrops splashed into the water and onto Yakoza's right hand. His father's suitcase hung heavy in his left hand. The downpour intensified, and the temperature dropped sharply.
"The sun disappeared and heavy rain appeared, as the fall of a sudden execution."
Yakoza mused to himself, his breath clouding in the sudden cold.
"Suddenness is only a lack of concentration."
His father, Muraith, interrupted his thoughts.
"Son… How far is the road?"
Yakoza glanced at the cracked route-plate. His eyes widened, shock evident on his face.
"Until the destination..."
He muttered calmly.
The relentless rain turned the ground into slick, shifting mud. The air grew heavy with an oppressive energy. Dark vibrations pulsed through the atmosphere. Muraith, ever composed, placed his straw hat onto Yakoza's head and took the suitcase from him.
"Wake up… you brainless shit" he whispered.
Yakoza's hand instinctively shot to his sword, gripping it tightly, while Muraith merely stared into the clouds.
Figures emerged from the darkened ground, their bodies formed from sticky, liquid shadows. First came their hands, clawing upward, then their heads and torsos followed. These were the Oleynos.
Each blow landed on them proved futile, they would not vanish and multiplied until the storm passed.
Sticky hands clung on Yakoza's legs. Their unyielding grip imprisoned him. He was pulled upward. Their pressure dragged him up as their grip climbed…
Reaching for his chest… Then his throat…
The unbearable squeeze stole his breath, leaving him with short, strained gasps.
The Oleynos fused into larger and more grotesque shapes. As he was pushed upward, Yakoza felt his strength failing. Their collective force lifted him against his will.
"Father!"
Yakoza calls, his voice strained but defiant.
"Send it!"
Muraith, hearing his son, lay unmoving on the ground. With his hands beneath his neck, he watched rain drip from the clouds. The soft, rain-proof suitcase cushioned his head. His presence was ignored by the Oleynos. Above him, Yakoza was being overwhelmed. The hands reached for his head.
Without disturbing his comfort, Muraith hurled his sword toward him. Yakoza caught it with his teeth. Then drew a deep breath through its hilt.
He spun with a speed that created a vortex-like whirlwind.
The Oleynos clinging to him were torn apart.
The effort left Yakoza weakened and disoriented. He fell from the rising mass onto one of the floating islands that had risen amidst the chaos. He landed near the base of a tree, his mind clouded.
Rain hammered down as Yakoza leaned against the tree. His sword planted beside him. The floating island ascended, piercing the storm clouds into a serene expanse above. Cool winds rustled the pink blossoms of the tree, their petals swirling lazily in the golden-orange light of a setting sun.
Other islands emerged from the clouds, rising into the twilight sky. Hues of purple and orange painted the horizon, and the first stars began to pierce the fading light.
For a moment, there was peace…
But the island rised too high.
As his mind cleared, Yakoza's thoughts turned to his father. He was left weaponless.
Gathering his strength, Yakoza contemplated how he might descend from his floating island.
Before he could act, hundreds of birds suddenly streaked past him. In the distance, the shadow of an enormous creature loomed. As it drew closer, its true form revealed itself… A monstrous, reptilian entity bristling with jagged spines and sharp edges. The creature was called Steckhom. The floating islands closer to the surface lay in its direction.
Yakoza gripped the sword and slid it into its sheath.
"If I'm fast enough, I can make it."
He thought, assessing the shifting islands below.
Braving the oppressive air pressure, he leapt from one island to the next. The gaps between the islands were fraught with peril… Massive, serpent-like creatures emerged unexpectedly. Yet, Yakoza evaded them.
Steckhom closed in. Its sheer size blocked the horizon and his shadow consumed everything. The air around him turned oppressively heavy, drawing everything into its vortex.
The surrounding islands crumbled, disintegrating as Steckhom's cavernous mouth drew them in. Yakoza's island began to break apart. He made a grim decision.
"This sword… won't withstand his external…
…but its inner flesh is soft enough."
With a deep breath of Steckhom, he launched himself toward the beast's maw. Its maw engulfed him, and he made it into the creature's stomach.
The stench was overwhelming, the walls of Steckhom's stomach slick with corrosive acids. As Yakoza grasped onto a jagged protrusion, he witnessed a bird tumble into the acidic pool below. Bowing his head, Yakoza murmured.
"May you get mercy."
With no time to waste, he plunged his sword into the beast's flesh, carving a massive opening.
Steckhom was in agony. Its body convulsed violently as the acidic fluids and blood surged outward, pouring through the newly created exit. Yakoza braced himself and leapt, narrowly escaping the corrosive tide.
As he floated down through the storm-ridden clouds, he fell into a memory.
Muraith sat beneath a tree with pink blossoms. The straw hat rested on his head. One of his eyes, usually hidden beneath bandages, was exposed. It was sharp, intense, and chaotic, like a storm contained within a single orb.
"Keep your word, Yakoza."
Muraith said, his voice calm but commanding.
The ground shook violently, and the vision fractured around the edges. Yakoza felt himself wrenched from the memory, expelled through the eye's swirling pupil.
Reality returned abruptly as Yakoza collided with tree branches, crashing through them until he landed hard on his back. Nearby, Steckhom's acidic fluids ceased flowing, stopping close to him. Yakoza lay motionless for a moment, tasting peace. Above him, the straw hat his father had given him drifted gently downward, settling onto his head.
Drizzle fell steadily. The air was heavy but strangely clear. As Yakoza rose to his feet, a figure emerged from the shadows. At first, it resembled an Oleynos, but as it stepped into the light, its true identity became apparent. It was Muraith.
"My apologies, I should never approach you when you're unarmed."
Yakoza said, straightening himself.
Muraith gave no reply, his expression unreadable. Instead, he simply turned and walked away. Without a word, Yakoza followed, knowing that their journey was far from over.