Another wave of stone spikes erupted. Fūre's mist danced between them, each razor-thin slice precise and purposeful. He could end this quickly, overwhelm the guard with pure pressure and force. But that seemed show-boat like. The two were supposed to be near equal in strength.
"I— I guess I'm just not seeing the hype" Takumi let out, chuckling slightly. "How is such a coward revered as this notorious legend? I must admit you're not passing my test, I just thought you would have a little more killing force, be a bit stronger… am I supposed to die by a thousand cuts?"
A flicker of genuine amusement danced in Fūre's eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His brow rose, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected defiance.
Ignoring the obvious provocation, Furegen shifted the conversation, remarking, "I'm curious how you believe you know me, given we've never met. I won't play ignorant," Fure tilted his head in a playful confusion. Tapping the crimson visor with one gloved knuckle. "but even if we had met, Takumi—how exactly can you see through this?"
Takumi laughed—a sound that mingled exhaustion with defiance. He shook his head, eyes narrowing with determination as he gathered himself.
"You're so damn confident... Well, how about I show you instead of telling?"
The ground beneath Takumi split with a violent crack. He sank into the fissure, drawing the earth around himself like a cloak. Stone flowed like liquid, encasing him completely in a thick, earthen sphere that sealed with a hollow thud. The cocoon stood impenetrable, a testament to defensive tactics.
Fūre circled the shell, his mist dancing across the arena in ghostly tendrils. He kept it light, barely substantial—a translucent veil that refracted the arena's dim light. Each breath carried a slight sting, the air just dry enough to irritate the lungs.
A stone pillar erupted inches from his foot. Fūre pivoted, feeling the air displace around the projectile. Another spike shot up where his weight would have carried him. Then another, and another—each attack surgically aimed at his projected path.
He's tracking my movements perfectly. Down to every footfall. Clever. Though cowardly.
Fūre quickened his pace, testing the shell's awareness. He rushed forward, then retreated, measuring Takumi's response time. Each approach was met with precise counterattacks—spikes, barriers, and walls erupting from the ground exactly where Fūre would have been.
The arena floor became a deadly maze as Takumi sent stone nails and pillars in genuinely random patterns. Fūre moved continuously, refusing to be pinned, his feet barely touching the ground before another attack forced him to shift. The air in his lungs grew slightly heavier with each breath.
He extended his awareness through the mist, feeling it cling to every surface. The arena had transformed—shattered pillars, cracked floors, upturned stone creating a chaotic landscape. Perfect.
Fūregen studied the stone cocoon with calculating eyes. The mist around him responded to his will, an extension of himself—a living weapon composed of air and water in precise balance.
A maximum water-to-air ratio of 1.5 to 98.5. he thought, made the water content practically inconceivable to acknowledge.
Water provided weight and impact, while air delivered sharpness and speed. His all-encompassing mist granted him unparalleled range, allowing attacks from virtually any angle, conjuring weapons or barriers regardless of his physical position.
Yet even his mastery had limitations. The mist couldn't penetrate solid matter—it required a path, however small. He did his best to circle the cocoon while avoiding the wrath of earth surrounding him. There was no realistic way to attack Takumi from within his stone shell.
Such a simple counter, yet effective, Fūre acknowledged. He's removed my advantage entirely.
The mist thinned slightly around his fingers as he considered his options. He couldn't breach the cocoon directly—but perhaps he didn't need to. Takumi would need to emerge eventually, and when he did...
Fūre's lips curved into a smile beneath his mask. Maybe his patience would be the determining factor here.
As Fūre wove through the obstacles, he exhaled slowly, deliberately. The mist thickened imperceptibly around the stone shell. His breath fogged slightly before his mask where it hadn't before. And air felt denser, carrying a subtle weight that hadn't been present moments ago.
Droplets of condensation appeared on his gloves as he brushed past a fallen column. The temperature had dropped, hardly enough to notice.
Fūre moved in a spiral pattern, drawing closer to the shell with each pass.
He studied the shell as he circled, noting the tiny fissures where the earth had been hastily pulled together. Perfect imperfections. The stone began to darken in places, oddly like a sponge.
Fūre slowed his movements, suppressing his footfalls to bare whispers. Inside the shell, Takumi would sense only stillness, perhaps his own heartbeat. The perfect moment of false security.
The mist now clung to everything—walls, floor, the dome itself. Breathing became laborious, the air thick enough to taste. Fūre approached the shell with measured steps, placing his palm against its surface. The stone felt oddly soft beneath his touch, almost yielding.
"One percent, edge," he whispered, testing. His blade barely scratched the surface, but the stone gave way slightly, like wet clay rather than solid rock.
Success.
___
Yui's Heart.
The artifact that had changed everything, its power dormant within him for decades.
In an era after the Tenshi fell, the world had fractured into warring states, each desperate to claim what remained of celestial power. Kingdoms rose and fell like tides, alliances shattered with the morning dew. It was a time when those who could manipulate Takton were hunted, prized, and often forced to serve those with ambition but no gift.
One such kingdom had arranged a marriage between two powerful Tenkei wielders—not just for political gain, but to breed children with extraordinary abilities. From this union came Yui, inheriting her mother's command over water and her father's mastery of air.
Yui's parents, fearing for their daughter in those violent times, had sought protection from Mizuchi, the Water Tenshi. The price was steep—a contract sealed with sacrifice. Yui's heart, transformed into an indestructible jewel, preserved her dual powers within its crystalline depths.
For centuries, the artifact passed through history's shadows, appearing and vanishing, always eluding those who sought its power. The jewel remained dormant, waiting for one with Yui's bloodline to awaken its potential.
Then, the eight-year-old boy named Fūregen had discovered it in a small chest belonging to his grandmother—a small, mesmerizing jewel swirling with blue and silver hues. The moment his fingers touched its surface, something ancient had recognized him. Descendant of Yui, unknowing heir to power long forgotten.
The memory faded as Fūregen returned to the present, his focus sharpening on the weakening stone before him. The jewel's power flowed through his veins now, water and air in perfect harmony, mist responding to his will like an extension of his own body.