Far enough from the split that the trees swallowed every echo of the chase, Akarum skidded to a halt.
"The Darken went after Kashime," he said, voice low and steady. "Strike from behind."
He moved without waiting slipping through underbrush, tracking the Darken. Behind him, unnoticed at first, the red slime oozed along the same path, silent and formless.
Akarum paused behind a thick trunk, eyes narrowing.
"What's that?"
The slime hesitated then melted straight into the earth, vanishing as though it had never been.
Ahead, Kashime stood motionless in a small clearing, arms loose at her sides, waiting.
"Let's see what that kid's got."
High in the branches, the Darken crouched.
They got separated. Is this a...
Before the thought could finish, a dozen ice spikes erupted from below clean, razor-sharp, punching through bark, branch, and flesh in one merciless pass.
The Darken gasped once.
"It sure was…"
Blood poured from the wounds in thick, dark streams. His soul flickered out like a snuffed candle the body slumped forward and fell, lifeless.
Kashime stared at the jagged mountain of ice now rising where the spikes had converged beautiful and brutal.
"That kid…"
She turned. Akarum stepped into the clearing, lifting a small wave.
"Sorry for the mess."
Kashime's eyes flicked over him wide, stunned.
"What are you? You sure…have… insane focus."
Akarum shrugged, almost shy.
"All because of mother."
Kashime exhaled slowly.
"Focusing on divine energy is the first and hardest step. Most can't even sense it, let alone channel it so cleanly and you do it like breathing."
"Already told you," he said quietly. "Because of my mother."
Kashime's expression softened, then shadowed.
"Makes sense. After all, she was the World Ruler before Akutomi ended her."
Akarum's face faltered eyes dropping, shoulders curling inward.
"You don't have to mention that."
"My apologies." She stepped closer. "Mysterious One… how did you do that?"
Akarum nodded once.
"Let me show."
He focused inward. Black blood cells ran through his veins.
The ground beneath his feet frosted over in an instant, ice spreading outward like spilled ink. He brushed his fingers through the air as though stroking something invisible.
Kashime took an involuntary step back.
"Is he… summoning Prime Thorn?"
The ice lifted in a single fluid motion, coalescing into a long, flawless spear. A thin white ring encircled its shaft near the tip. Akarum caught it by the haft and drew it to his hip. Cold fog rolled off him in gentle waves.
"With this," he said, a small, tired smile touching his lips, "I moved it. And it made the mountain."
Then pain lanced through his chest sharp, blinding.
He staggered.
Kashime's voice snapped sharp with concern.
"Akarum…make it disappear."
He dropped to his knees. Veins bulged against his skin, black and throbbing. Sweat beaded instantly across his forehead.
The Prime Thorn dissolved into mist. Akarum's vision tunneled the world tilted.
Before darkness took him, he saw Kashime rushing forward. He heard her voice one soft, urgent word.
"Akarum."
Time blurred.
When his eyes cracked open again, Kashime sat cross-legged in front of him, elbows on her knees, watching closely.
"You finally awoke."
Her voice was soft, but uncertainty lingered behind it.
Akarum tried to sit up. His limbs refused numb, heavy, locked.
"I-I…"
She reached for Akarum, careful and steady, lifting his limp form and settling him against her back. His arms draped over her shoulders; she adjusted him until he was secure.
Akarum's head rested against her shoulder blade. His voice came out small, cracked.
"I can't move. My body feels frozen."
Kashime started walking slow at first, then picking up to a smooth run.
"It's normal," she said gently. "Even if your focus is higher than average or maybe even beyond it your body is still new to this. Give it time."
Akarum stared at the passing trees, barely whispering.
"I am not weak."
A memory rose unbidden, sharp and unfiltered.
A small dinner table. Akarum bandaged face, messy hair, no more than four sat with hands folded in his lap. His mother sat beside him, spoon in hand.
He looked up, eyes shining with tears.
"Mummy, I don't want to do training anymore."
She hesitated, spoon hovering.
"But…you should get stronger. So you can at least protect yourself."
Sinu, seated across, spoke quietly.
"He's just a four-year-old kid. Let him live his childhood."
His mother's expression twisted conflict, love, duty all warring.
"That's not fair…" She sighed, defeated. "Fine."
She fed him one more spoonful, slow and careful.
In present, Akarum's voice barely reached her ear.
"I miss them a lot."
Kashime kept running through the dark. The camera of the world seemed to lean in close and close enough that her brown pupil filled the frame, reflecting the faint silver of moonlight, the blur of passing trees, the small sleeping weight on her back.
Time slipped away.
Far ahead, the moon spilled pale light across the forest floor. The world had gone quiet except for the steady rhythm of Kashime's footsteps.Akarum slept against her shoulder, breath even and shallow.
She slowed, then stopped beside a wide tree trunk. Gently she eased Akarum down so he leaned against the bark, still asleep.
Inside her veins, red blood cells flowed alongside something stranger: white and cosmic-coloured cells flecked with distant stars, and crisp white ones that moved like light itself. No shift in the overall color of her blood just quiet, hidden power. The universe-colored cells began to spark.
Her divine scar the neck one with its dual outlines ignited from the inside out. The universe rim glowed first, deep and cosmic.
Her vision detached.
No body, no hands just forward motion. She drifted through space toward her room in the Village of Queens. A flute rested on the table. She reached nothing to reach with and yet the flute lifted into her grasp.
Her eyes snapped open in the forest darkness.
She was holding the flute. Breath came in short gasps. The cosmic outline on her scar burned brighter; blood flow steadied, but the glow refused to fade.
Kashime's voice was calm.
"The work is in progress."
She lifted the flute to her lips. Fingers danced lightly across the holes.
A soft, haunting melody spilled into the night relaxing, almost mournful.
The white outline of her scar flared in response. White butterflies materialized from thin air, wings trailing delicate sparks that drifted like falling snow.
Akarum stirred, eyes cracking open.
He saw Kashime playing, butterflies circling her in slow spirals, universe and white outlines both alive with light.
The butterflies drifted forward and gathered in a tight ring above an empty patch of ground. Sparks rained down. Wood stacked itself neatly; two small tents rose from nothing canvas taut, stakes driven deep.
Akarum watched, quiet awe settling in his chest.
That's not surprising that she's the village head...after witnessing this.
Kashime's fingers stilled. The melody faded. Butterflies dissolved into fading sparks. The white outline dimmed until only moonlight remained.
For a heartbeat her vision slipped again back to the room, placing the flute on the table with no hands. Then she was present once more. The flute vanished from her grip.
The cosmic outline faded too.
She exhaled, shoulders sagging.
"It's done. I'm feeling lazy now. That made me burn out."
Akarum stood slowly.
"Well… I'm inside now. Good night."
He ducked into one tent without another word.
Kashime stared after him.
Kashime blinked.
"Huh?"
We need a campfire to avoid catching cold.
Kashime rubbed her temple.
"My divine scar doesn't support that kind of ability, and I'm too lazy to ask him. Night."
She disappeared into the second tent.
Akarum lay on the futon, blanket pulled tight, eyes open and staring at the canvas ceiling.
Even if Mom was strict, I miss her. Everything feels so unpredictable.
He tugged the blanket over his head. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks, soaking the fabric.
The dark night folded around them, carrying the quiet weight deeper.
Time passed.
Akarum was still asleep, soft snores breaking the morning hush, when Kashime's voice rang from outside.
"Hey! Wake up already!"
Akarum groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Why's she screaming…"
He stepped out, stretching stiff arms.
"What happened?"
Kashime stood holding a small woven basket. Inside, purple mushrooms "Purpis" glowed with faint violet energy that pulsed like slow heartbeats.
Akarum squinted.
"What's that?"
Kashime lifted the basket slightly.
"Make a campfire. We'll cook these Purpis."
Akarum tilted his head.
"Purpis?"
"Campfire," she repeated, patient but firm.
"Yeah, doing."
He knelt by the wood stack the butterflies had left. Focused inward. Black blood moved through his veins at normal speed now, but faint cracks showed some cells fragmenting, breaking apart under strain.
He touched the wood. More cells shattered inside him with tiny, silent pops. Flame caught instantly. He yanked his hand back as the fire roared to life.
Kashime settled on a log opposite him, placing the basket down. She picked up one Purpi and held it near the flames.
Akarum watched, brow furrowing.
"These mushrooms look strange."
As heat touched it, purple energy surged outward. Veins appeared across the mushroom's cap thin, tense, throbbing like living tissue.
Akarum leaned back.
"It's tensing like a living mushroom."
Kashime nodded.
"You need to inhale this."
She held the now-vibrating Purpi toward him. Purple mist thickened around it.
Akarum recoiled.
"Why!? Take it away."
He edged behind the log.
She sighed.
"Using soul or divine energy damages the body internally if done too much. Purpi recovers that damage."
Akarum stared at the mushroom, then at Kashime, then back.
"Geez…"
He reached out hesitantly, palm open.