CHAPTER 16: Indifference vs. Reason

  Haru was walking toward a gate after leaving the temple. Upon placing his hand on the door following a respectful bow, his pendant began to glow, and the door swung open. The purple spiral sucked him in with a smoothness that no longer caused him nausea; now, he felt only a frigid determination.

  On the other side, he didn't find a monster. It was a dark house, foul-smelling, with beer bottles on the floor; it smelled of dampness and filth. Looking at the kitchen, he saw everything crawling with cockroaches and rats, and there was something else—a nightmare in plain sight. The figure of a woman with exaggeratedly sad features was pouring herself wine.

  Nearby was another figure—a man with a happy face who, somehow, radiated pure anger.

  — [TARGET ANALYSIS: GRADE C NIGHTMARE — WARM PRISON]

  Haru observed the two figures. The silence in the house was dense, interrupted only by the sound of wine hitting the glass. The sad woman never stopped pouring, and the happy man never stopped smiling, though his knuckles were white from gripping the table so hard.

  "It's a contradiction," Haru whispered, unsheathing his green sword. "She drowns in her own sorrow, and he forces himself to ignore her with a smile."

  A child accidentally dropped a plate. Both shadows turned to look at him, and Haru finally understood what was happening in that house.

  The woman raised her hand to strike. As she brought it down, Haru blocked it, shielding the child.

  The impact of the woman's hand against Haru's sword didn't sound like flesh hitting metal, but like a thunderclap of static. The woman's arm stretched grotesquely, her fingers lengthening like black vines, and her face, previously sad, contorted into a grimace of pure hatred.

  "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!" the woman roared. The wine spilled on the floor began to boil.

  The happy-faced man was not far behind. He stood up, his smile widening so much that the skin of his cheeks began to tear, revealing absolute darkness within.

  He said nothing, but rushed toward Haru. Seeing him, Haru kicked the woman back and braced for the man's attack.

  The man charged with unnatural speed, his footsteps making the rotten wood of the house creak. Haru, with the child trembling behind his legs, blocked the man's first impact with the flat of his green blade. The blow was so heavy the boy felt his bones vibrate, but he did not step back.

  "Get back!" Haru roared, more to himself than to the monsters.

  The woman, recovering from the kick, hissed as the boiling wine on the floor began to form sharp whips. She represented the guilt that drowns you; he, the wrath hidden behind a perfect facade. Haru was trapped in the middle of the worst possible family dynamic.

  The man launched a punch directly at Haru's face, but the boy, using his reason and the brutal training Mugen had given him, ducked at the last second. The man's fist went through the wall of the house like paper.

  "Horse!" Haru shouted, striking the floor with his free hand.

  The steed of living wood emerged from the kitchen shadows, neighing with a sound that shattered the window panes. The horse didn't attack the parents; it positioned itself over the child, protecting him with its body of intertwined branches and heavy hooves.

  "So these nightmares are part of that child... damn you," Haru thought with growing rage.

  Haru concentrated his energy into the sword. The green glow became more intense, almost blinding. He wasn't looking to kill the "parents"; he was looking to break the structure of the house. He realized that as long as the table remained intact and the broken plate stayed on the floor, the cycle would repeat.

  "The simulation is over!" Haru jumped over the man, using his shoulder as a platform, and in mid-air, delivered a downward slash—not toward the monsters, but toward the wine bottle that kept pouring its poison onto the table.

  As the glass shattered, an agonizing, unison scream erupted from the throats of both parents, and the reality of the house began to crumble like ash in the wind.

  The woman crawled on the floor, licking it to not lose any wine, while the man lunged more erratically.

  Haru dodged all their blows, either by moving his body or parrying with the sword. For the first time, Haru wore a face of genuine anger.

  The happy-faced man, now with his jaw hanging and eyes bloodshot with red static, threw a desperate claw. Haru didn't even blink; he simply moved his neck a few centimeters, letting the monster's claws cut the air, and counterattacked with the pommel of his sword directly into the creature's solar plexus.

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  "You are not his parents," Haru declared, his voice sounding deep and charged with a green energy that made the walls vibrate. "You are only the echo of his fear. And the fear ends today."

  The woman, still crawling among the broken glass of the wine bottle, tried to catch Haru's ankles with her vine-like fingers. The boy, without looking at her, gave a sharp stomp imbued with spiritual energy, cracking the floor and sending a shockwave that blasted her back into the darkness of the kitchen.

  "Horse! Get him out of here!" Haru ordered.

  The living wood steed neighed, carefully lifted the child onto its back of branches, and bolted through the wall the man had broken earlier, carrying him toward the outside of the nightmare, toward the light of Ren’s pendant marking the exit.

  Left alone with the two shadows, Haru's green aura expanded to cover the entire room.

  "My reason says this child deserves to be free," Haru said, raising his sword above his head. "And your indifference dies here with me."

  With a horizontal slash that drew an emerald arc in the air, Haru didn't cut the monsters; he cut the "thread" of reality that kept them standing. The two figures dissolved into a cloud of soot and cold ash, while the roof of the house opened to reveal a peaceful, starry sky.

  Haru sheathed his sword with a sharp click. The anger on his face didn't completely disappear, but his hands were no longer shaking. He turned around and walked toward the exit. But he noticed that the surroundings weren't starting to vanish.

  Haru stopped dead in his tracks. The "click" of his sword being sheathed was the only thing that broke the silence, but the setting didn't dissolve into particles of light as usual. The broken kitchen walls, the smell of dampness, and the shattered bottles were still there, static, as if time had frozen.

  "What's happening...?" Haru whispered, feeling a chill that didn't come from the cold air of the house.

  "Oh, what do we have here? Just one?" a sweet and playful voice sounded behind Haru.

  Upon hearing the voice, Haru immediately spun around, his eyes wide with shock. It was that person—the one who set the trap and nearly killed Yumi. It was Xerox.

  "You..." Haru's gaze turned to pure hate.

  Xerox was there, floating a few centimeters above the rotten wooden floor. He played with a thread of energy between his fingers, moving it like a yoyo with an indifference that made Haru's blood boil.

  "Who the hell are you and why did you attack us on the train...?" Haru whispered, restraining his rage.

  "Me? I am Xerox, one of the Five!" he shouted with pride.

  "One of the Five...?" Haru repeated, gripping the hilt of his sword. The green energy of his weapon began to crackle, reacting to the spiritual pressure Xerox emitted. "I don't care how many there are. You’re going to pay for what you did to Yumi."

  Xerox let out a shrill laugh that sounded like radio static.

  "We will pay with pleasure! But first..." Xerox stopped playing with the energy thread, and it tightened, turning into a silver needle a meter long. "I want to see how strong my toy is," he whispered, throwing the needle.

  Haru dodged it by reflex, drawing his sword.

  "I am not your toy!" Haru roared.

  The green glow of his sword exploded as he dodged the silver needle. Haru didn't waste time; he lunged at Xerox with an upward slash, seeking to cut him in half. But the villain was faster.

  Xerox dissolved into static, reappearing several meters away in the corner of the room. His laughter was a playful echo that rattled Haru's nerves.

  "Oh, how temperamental! I like it," Xerox snapped his fingers.

  Instantly, the floor of the house was covered in a network of silver threads that began to grow and climb the walls. The cockroaches and rats of the nightmare, which still infested the place, were covered in the same static energy, transforming into grotesque abominations with glowing red eyes. They weren't just disgusting; they were Low-Grade Manifestations emitting a constant static, a hum that tried to pierce Haru's mind.

  "The indifference of chaos... it's a symphony, don't you think?" Xerox raised the silver needle. "While you try to save small fragments, I will show you the beauty of mass destruction."

  "Shut up!" Haru screamed, his patience evaporated under the weight of his rage.

  The mutated rats lunged in a mass, a tide of static and screeching teeth. Haru did not back down. He plunged his sword into the ground and, with a burst of green energy, summoned roots that impaled the creatures before they could touch him. He didn't stop to look at the remains; his eyes were fixed on Xerox.

  "Symphony?" Haru began to run, ignoring the threads trying to catch his ankles. "The only thing I hear is empty noise!"

  Xerox launched three silver needles in rapid succession. Haru parried the first two with precise slashes of his sword, but the third grazed his shoulder, tearing the fabric. The boy didn't even flinch. He used the momentum to perform a somersault over a piece of rotten furniture and, in mid-air, called his horse.

  The living wood steed appeared out of nowhere, catching Haru in full flight. With a neigh that shook the foundations of the house, the horse charged through the web of threads, breaking them like cobwebs. Xerox widened his smile, preparing a mass of energy in his hand for a final attack, convinced of his superiority. But his indifference toward Haru’s growth was his mistake.

  Haru jumped off the horse just before impact. Instead of swinging his weapon, he let go of the hilt and lunged with all his body weight onto the villain. Xerox tried to vanish into static, but Haru wrapped his arms around his neck, anchoring him to reality with his own spiritual energy and the strength given by his reason.

  "What the hell?!" Xerox let out a tone of real surprise for the first time upon feeling physical contact.

  Haru looked him in the eyes, just centimeters from his face. There was no fear in the boy, only cold, concentrated hate. He tilted his head back, gathering every gram of his energy in his forehead.

  "This is for Yumi!" Haru roared.

  With a violent, sharp movement, Haru delivered a brutal headbutt directly to the center of Xerox's face.

  The impact caused Xerox to have visions: of a being with a deep voice and something that looked like a nightmare, and of himself being controlled in some way.

  The impact resonated as if glass had shattered against granite. Xerox didn't fly back immediately; for an eternal instant, his static face remained pressed against Haru's forehead, and it was in that brief contact that the spiritual connection became a high-voltage cable.

  Xerox let out a cry that wasn't a laugh, but a screech of agony. In his mind, the darkness fragmented. Visions hit him with the force of lightning:

  First, he saw a colossal silhouette, a being of beastly proportions whose voice was a thunder that made the fabric of reality vibrate. "You will be the first," said that deep voice. Then, the image of himself—Xerox—but not as a proud warrior, but as a puppet made of red threads, being manipulated by invisible fingers sinking into his very essence. He saw the face of a nightmare so ancient it made the "Warm Prison" look like child's play.

  "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Xerox howled.