Chapter Four: Ashes
This is enough. You've done enough.
Survive. Survive. Survive.
You've given everything… it's time to rest.
Survive… survive…
Come. Step into eternal bliss.
Survive.
The voices overlapped, clashing within Touka's mind as he sank—deeper, heavier—like a body swallowed by dark water.
Then another voice cut through them. Calm. Distant. Unforgiving.
"Choose carefully who you listen to… pleasure is the closest thing to death."
Touka's lips trembled.
"I… I think I've done enough," he whispered. "I want to rest."
A pause.
Cold.
"Who decided that?"
Silence crushed him.
You are neither special nor chosen.
You are nothing but a pawn.
Wake up.
Drive.
Touka inhaled sharply.
Air burned his lungs as the world snapped back into place.
He stood—barely—his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. His gaze dropped to the blood-soaked earth beneath him… then lifted.
A villager was already there.
A blade lunged toward his eye.
Touka dipped—just enough.
The knife sliced past his face—
—but in that fraction of a second, another attack followed.
A boulder slammed into him.
The impact crushed the air from his lungs and hurled him backward into the forest. Branches shattered as his body tore through them before crashing into the ground.
He coughed.
"What—"
A blur.
An old man—muscle and fury—closed the distance instantly.
His fist rose.
Then—
Impact.
The uppercut detonated against Touka's jaw, sending him skyward. Trees bent and splintered as he tore through them, sunlight flashing violently across his vision.
For a moment, the sky blinded him.
And in that brightness—
He saw them.
The village head stood perched upon a branch, surrounded by elders, all watching… all judging.
The man's voice carried easily.
"You know, they say…"
"With youth comes curiosity…"
"And with old age comes wisdom."
A faint smile curled at his lips.
"The young are born foolish… but grow wiser with time."
His gaze sharpened.
"Too bad you'll be remembered as a fool forever."
A single word followed.
"Go."
They moved.
All at once.
The forest erupted as bodies surged toward Touka. The village head vanished like mist.
Touka exhaled slowly—
Then launched himself upward.
An arrow met him mid-air.
He twisted—barely avoiding it—
—but another followed.
Then another.
A storm.
There was no army—only one archer.
But one was enough.
Each dodge earned him two more arrows in response. The man's precision was suffocating, leaving Touka with no safe ground… and no sky to escape into.
He was prey—
in a garden of predators.
And yet—
Touka smiled.
Not from confidence.
Not from hope.
But from something far more broken.
Madness.
Arrows screamed past him, forcing him back step by step—
Then—
A chain coiled around his leg.
It yanked him down.
He slammed into the earth, the impact cracking the ground beneath him. Before he could recover, the old man was already there—fist raised, ready to finish it.
The punch came down.
Touka shifted—just enough.
The blow grazed his hair as he redirected it into the ground.
BOOM.
The earth split open.
No time.
A boulder followed.
Arrows pinned him toward a tree.
The chain tightened.
Touka tore free at the last instant—
—and ran.
Through trees. Through shadows.
Using the forest. Using anything.
Trying—
Surviving.
Then—
A girl appeared before him.
Too close.
Too sudden.
She kissed him.
Touka froze.
The village head's voice echoed somewhere distant.
"Got him."
His mind collapsed inward.
Memories flooded him—warm, gentle, cruel.
Millim.
Mary.
Laughter. Light. Peace.
A loop he couldn't escape.
Didn't want to.
The old man arrived.
His face twisted with anger.
His fist struck.
Touka's body flew—out of the forest—crashing back into the village.
Dust rose.
At its center, the village head sat calmly upon his throne, legs crossed, eyes filled with quiet disgust.
"M-Millim…"
Touka's voice broke.
A hand gripped his hair—dragged him forward—and threw him at the man's feet.
The village head stood.
Steel whispered as his sword slid free.
"Make him kneel."
Touka struggled.
"Millim… Millim…"
The blade rose.
"Like I said," the village head began, voice steady, "with youth comes foolishness."
The sword lifted higher.
"And this—"
He brought it down.
"—will be your last mistake."
Crack.
Touka's voice, weak but present—
"A mistake…"
Crack.
Something shifted.
Touka's eyes drifted—past the man—past the moment—
To a single red spider lily beneath the throne.
His lips curved.
A smile.
The blade descended—
—and stopped.
A gasp rippled through the villagers.
Touka stood.
A dagger buried deep in the village head's neck.
Silence fell.
Cold.
Final.
"A fool… a wise man…" Touka murmured, his voice low, distant. "They're just titles."
Blood dripped slowly.
"They don't change the truth."
He lifted his gaze to the darkening sky.
The wind stirred.
The earth itself seemed to weep.
"We all bleed… in the end."