She opened the book with trembling fingers, the worn leather cover creaking softly under her touch. The first page greeted her like an old secret finally whispered aloud. Her eyes lit up, wide and bright, as a surge of excitement bloomed in her chest—warm, electric, unstoppable. Her body thrummed with it; her mind raced ahead, curiosity crackling like sparks in dry grass.
"Okay... let me see..." she murmured, her voice a soft whisper at first, barely disturbing the quiet air of her room. She leaned closer, the words pulling her in. Then, as the lines unfolded, her voice grew a little louder, steadier, carrying a hint of wonder. "Page 1-8... Chiwura."
Her excitement swelled with every sentence, heart pounding harder, a steady drumbeat echoing in her ears. So many things to learn... The thought wrapped around her like a promise, filling the empty spaces she'd carried for so long. She read on, savoring each detail, letting the lore sink deep into her bones. But a name tugged at her stronger than the rest.
"Will read the rest later," she whispered to herself, breath catching. "For now... let me focus on Ikua."
Her fingers flipped through the pages slowly, deliberately, each turn building a quiet anticipation. Then she stopped. The name stared back at her.
"Ikua," she breathed, the word tasting like power on her tongue.
There he was—an image rendered in intricate ink and faded pigments that seemed to pulse with life. Ikua, the god of war, stood tall and imposing, his muscular frame carved from years of battle and unyielding will. Shirtless, his broad chest bore a jagged scar that spoke of ancient wounds survived, a testament to resilience. His square jaw was set in fierce determination, while a thin, menacing scar traced the side of his left eye, giving him a dangerous, knowing gaze. He wore a fierce, battle-worn kilt of thick, layered wool and leather, reinforced with metal studs and frayed edges from countless clashes—practical yet primal, flowing just enough to allow deadly movement while declaring his savage strength.
Koya's eyes lit up even brighter, drinking in every detail. "Is this... really how he looks?" She paused, leaning in, tracing the image with her gaze as if she could reach through the page and touch him. Her heart pounded wildly now, excitement mixing with a strange, almost reverent awe. She exhaled shakily, the sound trembling in the quiet room, then forced herself to turn the page. Her eyes locked onto the words, unwilling to miss a single one.
"Ikua, the god of war..." she read aloud, voice hushed but growing steadier. "Feared... loved... adored... worshiped—all because of his strength." Her eyes moved slowly across the lines, absorbing the weight of his legend. "Started off flowless... but gained after Koruga's sacrifice... and became the god of war."
The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility. She flipped to the next page, pulse quickening.
"IKUA's item... IKUA's arm. A boost item, named this because it boosts IKUA's flow of..."
Her heart hammered louder, anticipation coiling tight in her chest like a spring ready to snap. She read slower now, every word deliberate, her breath shallow. What kind of power could a god like him wield? What hidden force had turned a flowless man into legend? The question burned, pulling her forward, making her lean even closer to the page.
Then she reached it.
Her eyes widened, breath catching sharply in her throat. A stunned silence filled the room as the revelation hit.
"IKUA's flow is... weaponry?" she said loudly, the words bursting out before she could stop them. Shock rippled through her, followed by a dizzying wave of awe and unease. Weaponry. Not raw elements or subtle manipulation—but pure, deadly command over arms of war. The kind of power that could shatter armies. The kind that had forged a god.
She sat there for a long moment, the book heavy in her lap, the implications crashing over her in slow, relentless waves.
Later that day, Koya burst from her room, feet marching with purpose down the familiar halls toward Immira. Her mind still spun from the pages, a storm of questions and fears brewing beneath the surface.
Immira sat alone in the quiet chamber, absorbed in her own book. She looked up as Koya entered, her expression shifting immediately to concern at the younger woman's tense posture.
"What's wrong, Koya?" Immira asked gently.
Koya froze, the words lodging in her throat for a long second. She drew a slow, calming breath, then spoke.
"Immira... I just found out what Ikua's flow is."
She paused again, steadying herself. Immira watched her curiously, waiting.
"It's... weaponry," Koya finally said, her voice carrying a clear thread of worry that she couldn't hide.
Immira noticed it at once. "Why did you say it like you're not happy about it?"
Koya exhaled deeply, shoulders sagging under the weight. "Because it means I'm never going to learn how to use IKUA's arm to do anything meaningful. It will still just be a mere iron rod in my hands."
Immira stared at her calmly, processing. "Koya... you're obviously saying this because you're flowless. But Ikua—"
"Was also flowless," Koya cut in quietly, the words heavy with resignation. "I know... That's what makes me even more worried. Ikua is a god, and I'm just a mere human. Who knows what god ritual he did to activate his flow?"
Immira pushed her chair back with a soft scrape and stood. She walked over to Koya, who kept her head slightly lowered, staring at the floor. Immira's presence was steady, grounding.
"Koya. The energy at the flow bound wasn't from a god. It was from you."
Koya looked up slowly, eyes searching Immira's face.
"That's another thing that's confusing me," she admitted, voice thick with frustration and fear. "What happened that day wasn't weaponry. It was something else—just raw energy pouring out. How does that make any sense?"
Immira placed a gentle hand on Koya's shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "Well, Koya... Koruga was the god of iron. From the stories, he could control and manipulate any and every form of metal around him. Then, based on what you just said, when Ikua inherited it, it gave him something different—weaponry. What if it gave you something different too? That raw energy... What if that's your flow, locked away deep inside, and IKUA's arm simply awakened it?"
Koya stared back calmly, the words sinking in. Confusion and worry still churned inside her, but Immira's explanation carried a quiet logic that eased some of the knot in her chest. Not all of it—but enough.
"Everything happened for a reason," Immira continued softly. "And the reason IKUA's arm chose you... it hasn't shown itself yet. But hopefully, soon, it will."
Koya nodded faintly and walked back to her room, each word from Immira echoing in her mind like distant thunder. She entered, closed the door, and collapsed face-first onto the bed. She lay still for a long while, letting the questions she hadn't dared voice to Immira flood her thoughts unchecked.
How am I related to Ikua... that his item would choose me?
Is my flow really locked away... and is the arm freeing it?
So many more swirled in her head—questions about her dreams, her mother's condition, her own uncertain place in this world. Like before, no answers came. Only the heavy weight of not knowing.
Eventually, she pushed herself up. She walked to where IKUA's arm hung and took it down carefully, as if it might burn her. She placed it on the bed, sat before it with legs crossed, and simply stared. Eyes locked on the artifact. Confusion wrapped around her like chains; nothing made sense anymore.
She lifted the arm and set it on her lap, fingers resting lightly against its cool surface. Her teacher had once spoken of items possessing souls—ancient essences bound within. Was its only purpose to choose a user? Or was there more? A desperate, half-mad idea took root: maybe she could try to connect with that soul. Maybe then, at least one or two pieces would fall into place.
She closed her eyes. Hands steady on the artifact. Breathing calm and deliberate. She sat for a full minute in silence, muting every sound around her until only darkness remained behind her eyelids. She exhaled deeply... and concentrated harder. It came slow at first—like a faint pulse against her palms. She had no idea if this was even possible, if it made any logical sense at all. But desperation fueled her focus, sharpening it like a blade.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours—she couldn't tell anymore. Nothing changed. All she felt was the solid weight of IKUA's arm beneath her hands. She pushed harder, willing something—anything—to happen. Still nothing.
Then she stopped forcing it.
She simply breathed. Calmly. Letting go of the pain, the worry, the endless questions. Each exhale carried a little more of the burden away, like leaves drifting downstream.
She felt lighter. Freer. At first, nothing else shifted. Then a gentle warmth began to spread through her body—comforting, almost blissful, touching every part of her. It felt... incredible. Healing in ways she couldn't name.
The artifact grew warmer too.
In the darkness of her mind, light began to shine—soft at first, then brighter. Her body lifted, levitating gently as waves of energy flowed into her. She felt divine. Powerful. Connected.
Then came the sound: a loud, rhythmic banging, like something heavy striking the ground with purpose. She turned her head in the vision, searching. The noise grew louder, more insistent. She flew toward it, drawn inexorably closer.
As she neared, the banging intensified—boom... boom...—until she saw it: IKUA's arm, levitating for a few seconds before slamming hard into the ground, then rising again. Over and over. Relentless. Powerful.
Koya stared, calm but transfixed. It repeated several more times. She reached out, her hand inching closer...
In reality, Koya was no longer on the bed.
She levitated several feet above it, legs still crossed in meditation, IKUA's arm resting on her lap. A violent wind howled around her, whipping through the entire Flow Star complex. Waves of raw, crackling energy poured from her body in pulsing surges—shaking walls, cracking stone, sending tremors through the floors. The building groaned under the strain, on the brink of collapse.
Carers shouted in panic, rushing to shield the children as debris rained down. Screams echoed through the halls—high-pitched and terrified. They herded the little ones toward exits, arms outstretched protectively, dodging falling plaster and splintering wood. The air itself felt charged, heavy, dangerous. No one could get close; the invisible force surrounding Koya repelled them like a storm barrier.
Meriosa approached the Flow Star from outside, her steps quickening as she sensed the unnatural chaos. Upon drawing near, her eyes widened at the sight of the shuddering building. Without hesitation, she dashed inside.
The scene inside was pure pandemonium—carers struggling, children crying, dust and fragments filling the air.
"What's happening?!" Meriosa yelled over the roar.
"Koya!" one carer screamed back, voice raw with fear.
Meriosa's face hardened with intensity. She moved like lightning, blurring through the corridors until she reached Koya's room in a heartbeat.
The energy slammed into her immediately, a wall of wind and power that hurled her backward. She flew out the doorway, slamming hard against the opposite wall. Pain flared, but she pushed it down and stood.
She stared at the vision before her: Koya floating, eyes closed, serene yet terrifying in her power. Meriosa advanced again, muscles straining against the gale. Her clothes tore and whipped violently. She nearly lost her footing more than once, boots scraping for purchase on the cracking floor. The closer she got, the fiercer the resistance became—energy biting at her skin, wind howling in her ears like a living thing. Sweat beaded on her brow; her breath came in ragged gasps. But she refused to yield.
In the vision, Koya reached for the artifact... and felt something—someone—touching her. She hesitated, hand hovering.
In reality, Meriosa gripped Koya's shoulders, voice cutting through the storm.
"Koya! Snap out of it!" she screamed, barely holding her ground. Koya's eyes flew open—pure, glowing white.
"Forgive me," Meriosa roared.
She released her grip for a split second as the wind shoved her back. Then, in a blink, she reappeared directly in front of Koya. Her fist drove tight and precise into Koya's stomach.
Koya exhaled sharply, the air forced from her lungs. Her eyes returned to normal in an instant. The violent wind died. The intense energy vanished as if it had never been.
She dropped onto the bed with a heavy thud. IKUA's arm slipped from her lap and clattered to the floor. Koya gasped for breath, chest heaving. She scrambled up in a rush, eyes wild.
"What... is going on?" she asked, voice trembling with nerves.
The world blurred at the edges. Darkness closed in. She passed out.
Meriosa stood there, exhausted, breathing heavily, staring down at the girl.
The Flow Star still stood—shaken, scarred, but not destroyed. Debris littered every surface. Carers and children emerged covered in dust and fragments, faces pale with lingering terror.
Moments later, the banging sound returned in Koya's mind—louder now, more demanding, as if it wanted something from her.
She jolted awake with a gasp.
Immira, Meriosa, and Lasara sat nearby in her room, speaking in low, worried tones. Immira noticed first and rushed to her side.
"Koya, you're awake... How are you feeling?"
Koya groaned weakly, head throbbing. "What happened?"
"Yeah... that's supposed to be our question," Meriosa said, her tone a mix of exhaustion and concern.
Koya sat up slowly, confusion clouding her face. "What are you talking about?"
Immira explained everything—the levitation, the storm of energy, the near-collapse of the building, the terror it had caused.
Tears welled up and spilled down Koya's cheeks. "Not again," she whispered, voice breaking.
"What were you even doing that made this happen?" Meriosa asked.
Koya sniffed, wiping at her eyes as fresh sobs threatened. "I remembered that items have souls... and I just wanted to see if I could connect to it." Her crying intensified, shoulders shaking. "I never wanted any of this to happen..."
Immira sat beside her, gently laying Koya's head on her shoulder. "It's okay, child," she murmured, voice full of quiet concern and warmth.
Meriosa and Lasara watched in silence. A flicker of pity softened Meriosa's usually stern expression.
TO BE CONTINUED.