"DAMA! MUMU! NINI!"

"OKUN! DOMITIUS! MIUSON!"

Everyone's heads turned—Okun, Domitius, Saa'ir, and even the two Onis.

Two figures rushed toward them: Ryuu in front, torch held high, and Liam right behind.

Neither could see Saa'ir.

Their attention locked first onto the mother Oni collapsed on the ground, bleeding heavily though frost clung to her wounds like makeshift bandages. The child Oni stood nearby, its face twisted with fear and confusion.

Ryuu then spotted Okun—scraped, bloodied, barely upright. "Chief—!"

"Check on Miuson!" Okun barked immediately, voice ragged. "Now!"

Liam's gaze swept the scene until it landed on Koul and Miuson slumped. Both were barely conscious, skin pale and lips blue.

"Koul!" Liam shouted, rushing to him as Ryuu sprinted to Miuson.

Dama, finally untangling himself from Mumu and Nini, looked up.

Hovering inches above the snow, robes flowing, gold chains glinting, turban pristine, was a familiar figure—the man who had once saved him. The man who helped him face the Curse of Hatred within Giona.

"Mr. Saa'ir!" Dama cried out, joy bursting through his shock.

He scrambled to his feet, half-tripping over Nini's tail, and ran toward the ghostly mediator, eyes wide and bright. "What are you doing here?!"

Liam perked up at the mention of "Mr. Saa'ir?" remembering Dama mentioning that name when he had first awakened earlier that day.

Domitius, still propping up Chief Okun by the shoulders, frowned in the same direction Dama was looking. "That's strange... Why is that boy talking to the wind?"

The question made Dama blink rapidly. Then his cheeks reddened—he suddenly remembered he never introduced Saa'ir to the others. "Oh yeah, t-that's right!" Flustered, he turned back to the group and jabbed his finger toward the figure standing calmly beside him. "Everyone, this is Mr. Saa'ir! It's a long story, but he helped me before! He's a good guy! We can trust him."

But Liam saw nothing but swirling snow and empty space. Domitius saw nothing. Even Ryuu, who had turned his head for a moment, saw nothing.

"…Dama," Liam stepped closer, brows knitting, "there's no one there..."

Dama recoiled as though slapped. At the same moment, Okun jerked his head up, eyes widening a bit.

"What do you mean there is no one there?" Okun rasped. He could see the man—white chiton, billowing turban, gold chains that moved as though in a breeze no one else felt. He turned, shocked. "Domitius, you don't see him?"

Domitius gawked back. "Chief—you can?"

Their mutual disbelief swirled between them like the leftover frost in the air.

Before Dama could let panic or confusion rise any further, Saa'ir lowered himself into a kneel beside him—graceful even in his shimmering, half-transparent state. His eyes softened with patient understanding. "Dama, I should have told you this earlier, but it seems only certain people can see me."

Dama stared up at him, still bewildered, but this time with a cocked eyebrow.

Saa'ir offered a faint, knowing smirk. "To my knowledge, only those with an exceptional soul, or those who are very close to death. can see me." He tapped his chest lightly with an ethereal hand that made no sound. "At least that is what I know. There are mysteries about my very being that allude even me still."

As Saa'ir's remark simply left a bewildered Dama with even more questions, Miuson's voice cut through the air like a cracking branch.

"What…are you…waiting for…!?"

Everyone froze. Saa'ir turned first, then Domitius, Okun, Liam, Mumu, Nini, and even the injured parent Oni. All attention locked on Miuson—barely standing, drenched in melted frost and blood, his breaths short and ragged. His spear was gone. His legs trembled. His lips were pale. But his eyes—they burned with something fierce and heavy.

Hate.

Each step he took left a shaky imprint in the snow as he limped toward the center of the field. His voice cracked under the cold, under the strain of simply speaking. "What…are you waiting...for!?" He repeated, each word escaping like an exhale forced through splintered ribs.

Saa'ir turned fully to him, surprise crossing his features when he realized something important: Miuson wasn't looking through him like Domitius or the child Oni.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Miuson was looking at him. Dead-centered. Focused. A direct glare.

He pointed at himself, brows raising slightly. "You're speaking to me?"

Miuson didn't slow down. If anything, he quickened despite the limp, frustration twisting deeper into his face.

"Yes… I'm talking…to you! You can do it…can't you…?" He sucked in a thin, painful breath. "You can…finish off…both Onis…right now…!"

He finally stopped several paces away from Saa'ir, barely keeping himself upright, fists trembling at his sides. "So do it."

Saa'ir regarded him quietly for a long moment. He saw the hatred—heavy and consuming—but also something else. Something buried beneath the layers of frost and trauma.

Potential. Power. Determination hardened by the need to protect. In a sense, just like Dama.

Slowly, Saa'ir's expression softened. He shook his head—not out of dismissiveness, but with the weight of a man who had seen centuries of similar wounds.

"No..." he answered gently. "I will not finish them."

Miuson's face twisted as anger and disbelief crashed together. His fists clenched harder, nails digging into his palms. "Then move aside..." Miuson snarled, the words dragging out like claws, "I will do it myself."

Saa'ir smirked as he closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Even if I wanted to stop you, I couldn't, for I don't have a physical body. I am but a wandering spirit."

The revelation hit Miuson hard enough to break his furious advance for a heartbeat. Saa'ir opened his eyes again, lifted his head, and continued, his tone calm but firm: "Even then, Young Miuson, I still suggest you back down. The fact you can see and hear me means one of two things—the latter of which is that you are near death."

"You think I care about that…?" Miuson growled through clenched teeth. But his anger boiled over immediately afterward, erupting like a flame starved for fuel.

"BECAUSE OF THEM—!" he shouted, staggering another step closer, every syllable scraping out of his throat like it hurt to even speak. "My little brother was almost taken! The cold destroyed our crops—half the village children would've starved if the Enohayean men didn't bring food! And don't even get me started on the battalion of men they killed, the men that never returned!" His voice broke at the peak of his fury, but the hatred behind it kept him standing, shaking.

"The Onis killed a battalion of men?" Saa'ir said, flabbergasted.

Hearing what Saa'ir said, the Oni mother's head weakly rose up from the snow. Her breath rattled in pain as she made several strained, guttural noises.

To everyone else present, it sounded like wounded groans.

But Saa'ir—and the child Oni—heard her clearly.

"Killed…? No… They're…still…alive…"

Saa'ir's eyebrows rose sharply. He slowly turned his head to look at the mother Oni, still collapsed and bleeding onto the snow. "Did you just say they're alive?"

She answered with a single, exhausted grunt: "Yes…"

Saa'ir fully turned around to face the mother Oni, his expression unreadable beneath the calm heaviness of his gaze. "What do you mean? If the battalion is still alive, why haven't they returned home?"

The mother Oni lowered her head, her breath shaky, steaming in the cold air. With great strain, she forced her voice out. "My magic…and my child's…" she said slowly, each word labored. "While it may freeze…it does not kill. As you saw…with that boy."

"When something is frozen by our magic…" she continued, pausing to catch a breath, "they are preserved entirely…and not conscious. Only way to kill them…is by smashing them apart. Quick... Painless..."

A harsh cough suddenly wracked her body. She leaned forward, blood dripping onto the snow—dark red against pure white. Immediately, the child Oni clung tightly to one of her arms, whimpering in fear.

The mother Oni weakly lifted her hand and rubbed her child's face in reassurance before continuing.

"We came here…because the mountain was…a good home. Quiet…and far away… But humans…had already built a village near here. I made…a self-sustaining blizzard…t-to drive them away. To make them move…somewhere else. But they did not leave…" the mother Oni said, voice fading in and out. "And when a battalion of men…came up the mountain…they confronted me. They threatened…my child...like they did...!"

The child Oni tightened its grip, remembering who 'they' was. The men with black cloaks.

"So I…froze them." A weak exhale left her lungs, trembling, almost mournful. "They are still frozen…in my lair. Alive. I can...unfreeze them..."

She slumped slightly, drained from speaking for so long.

A moment of silence passed before Dama spoke up. "Mr. Saa'ir, you can understand them?"

"Yes, Young Dama," Saa'ir confirmed, "I can understand her. How? I'm not sure, but it is a gift I won't take for granted." He inclined his head toward the injured Oni mother. "She says the battalion of men who climbed the mountain are still alive. Frozen, preserved—just as you were moments ago."

Ryuu, who had been kneeling beside Miuson, froze. His torch flickered with his stunned breath. "Father…is alive?" He whispered, voice trembling as the words escaped him without thought.

Miuson lurched forward, his limp worsening but his anger burning hotter. "You mean to tell me," he hissed, "that you can understand that monster?"

Saa'ir turned fully to face him, unbothered by the venom in Miuson's voice. "Yes, Young Miuson," he replied calmly, "I can understand them. And from what I have heard… I would not go so far as to call them monsters."

Miuson's face twisted, part fury, part bewilderment. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering him directly, Saa'ir looked over his shoulder toward Dama. His smile returned, warm and encouraging, as though Dama were the only one he truly trusted to receive his meaning. "It means that Young Dama here may help show the truth of the matter."

Dama blinked, still shivering a bit as he glanced between Mumu and Nini, then back to Saa'ir. "What do you mean me show the truth?" He asked, genuinely lost.

Saa'ir didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rose, stepped forward, and approached the mother Oni until he stood tall above her. The wounded Oni tensed, clutching her child closer as Saa'ir lowered himself to one knee. Slowly, he extended a hand and hovered it just inches away.

A soft gray glow seeped from his palm like slow-moving smoke. It coiled, spilled downward, and wrapped around the mother Oni's body. She stiffened at once, eyes squeezing shut as if bracing for the end. Her child clung tighter, trembling with him.

But instead of pain, heat began to radiate through her limbs. Her wounds closed. Her battered ribs loosened. Her breathing—labored, uneven moments ago—began to soften.

She let out a shaky breath, realization dawning: She was being healed.

"What are you…?" Miuson began.

But Saa'ir cut him off without even looking back. "Earlier," Saa'ir said, still channeling his aura into the Oni, "you asked what I meant by you showing the truth, Young Dama."

Dama blinked, listening intently as Saa'ir continued.

"I believe I finally understand what your Soulful Technique is—and what you are capable of doing with it."

-

Next: (Chapter 107) Dama's Soulful Extension

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.