The morning after the maismic song was not a morning of victory. The grey cloud still sat rigidly on the horizon, a thick, suffocating blanket that refused to let the sun touch the earth. At the Okutama shrine, the fire pits were nothing but piles of cold, white ash. The survivors moved like ghosts, their faces pale and their eyes sunken. Ren's counter-humming had saved their souls, but it had left their bodies hollow.
Ren sat on the edge of the porch, his left hand rhythmically massaging his blackened right arm. He could feel a faint, needle-like prickle deep within the bone, which is the first sign of returning sensation, but his mana was a thin line.
[Divine Mana: 0.1 / 150]
[Condition: Critical Exhaustion]
"You should be sleeping," a voice said.
Ren didn't have to look up. He knew the light, steady footfalls. Haru sat down beside him, her presence bringing a strange, cooling calm that the mountain air lacked.
