Chapter 2 – Blood in the Trees
Tone: Intense Battle | Close Call | Dramatic Comeback | Emotional Tension
Opening Scene – The Ambush
The silence of the jungle was not peaceful; it was a heavy, suffocating blanket that pressed against the skin. The air was thick with the scent of wet mud, decaying wood, and the copper tang of fresh blood.
Usually, at this hour, the forest would be alive with the nocturnal symphony of crickets and the rustling of predators, but tonight, the natural order had been suspended. The faint rustling of leaves sounded like whispered warnings. The distant scream of an unknown beast echoed through the canopy, sending shivers down the spine of the earth itself. But what shattered this oppressive silence most violently was the rhythmic, metallic song of death—the clash of swords.
Clang. Spark. Grunt.
Shoho was moving on pure adrenaline. His lungs burned as if he were inhaling fire, and sweat stung his eyes, blurring his vision. He was swinging his blade with all his might, his muscles screaming in protest, but he could not afford to stop. Not for a second.
Towering before him was a nightmare made flesh. The Villain was a colossal entity, standing nearly seven feet tall, his physical presence blotting out the moonlight filtering through the trees. His entire body was encased in a skin that resembled black, volcanic stone—impenetrable, jagged, and cold. Veins of magma-colored light pulsed beneath the rocky exterior, and his eyes… his eyes were two burning orbs of crimson hate, glowing with a predatory delight.
He looked less like a man and more like a demon summoned from the depths of the earth.
Villain (Roaring):
"You two should never have come here! This forest is a graveyard, and you've just dug your own plots!"
The voice was like grinding stones, deep and vibrating in Shoho's chest.
Shoho gritted his teeth, the sound audible over the heavy breathing. He glanced down at his left shoulder—his armor was shattered, the fabric underneath soaked in a dark, spreading stain. His left arm hung slightly limp, nerve damage sending jolts of electricity down to his fingertips. Yet, his right hand gripped the hilt of his sword with a ferocity that turned his knuckles white.
"I'm not done yet," Shoho hissed to himself.
He cast a fleeting, terrified glance behind him. Ten feet away, slumped against the gnarled roots of an ancient banyan tree, lay Uno.
Uno, usually the quick-witted and agile fighter, was barely moving. A deep laceration across his chest was weeping blood onto the mossy floor. His breathing was shallow, a rattling gasp that sounded too wet, too weak. His face, usually full of life, was now the color of old parchment, pale and ghostly under the shadows.
Shoho (Panting):
"Uno… stay with me! I won't let you die here…! You hear me? Don't you dare close your eyes!"
The desperation in Shoho's voice was palpable. He forced his body to stand straighter, raising his blade between the monster and his fallen friend. He was the only wall left standing.
The Villain cracked his neck, the sound like a breaking branch. He seemed bored, almost disappointed by Shoho's resistance. With a burst of speed that defied his massive size, the Villain lunged. He didn't use a weapon; his body was the weapon. He threw a heavy punch, his fist indistinguishable from a boulder.
Shoho reacted on instinct. He raised his sword to block, bracing his feet against the soft earth.
Impact.
It felt less like being hit by a fist and more like being struck by a charging rhinosceros. The force was catastrophic. Shoho's sword vibrated violently, numbing his arm instantly. The sheer kinetic energy bypassed his guard entirely.
He was lifted off his feet.
Shoho flew backward, the world spinning in a blur of green and black. His back collided with the trunk of a massive teak tree. The air left his lungs in an agonizing whoosh. He slid down the rough bark, his legs refusing to support him, and collapsed onto his knees. A warm, metallic liquid surged up his throat, and blood spilled from his mouth, dripping onto his trembling hands.
The Desperation
Pain was the only reality. It throbbed in his spine, pulsed in his skull, and screamed in his shoulder.
As Shoho struggled to rise, forcing his shaking limbs to obey, the Villain began to advance. He didn't run. He didn't rush. He walked with the slow, terrifying inevitability of a landslide.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The ground shook with every step he took. Small pebbles danced on the forest floor. The Villain loomed over Shoho, his shadow stretching out to swallow the wounded boy.
Villain (Laughing):
"You Shadow people… always think so highly of yourselves. You talk of clans, of honor, of legacy. But look at you. You break just like twigs."
The laughter was cruel, grating against Shoho's ears. Shoho's mind spun, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision.
He looked past the Villain's legs at Uno. Uno's chest was barely moving now.
Think, Shoho. Think.
His internal monologue was a frantic scream.
"If I fall now… Uno is gone too. He can't defend himself. He can't run. And then this jungle… this cursed place… will only be painted red with our blood. No one will find us. We'll just be bones in the mud."
The thought of Arzen flashed through his mind—the memory of the funeral, the empty space where Aura should have been. Are we all going to die? Is the Shadow Clan cursed to end like this?
Summoning the last reserves of his spirit, Shoho roared—a broken, guttural sound—and raised his sword one last time. It was a futile gesture, slow and weak.
The Villain didn't even bother to dodge. He simply reached out with his massive, stone-skinned hand.
Snap.
The Villain's palm seized Shoho's entire forearm. The grip was absolute.
"Pathetic," the Villain sneered.
He squeezed.
The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed through the clearing.
"AAAAHHH!" Shoho screamed, the sword falling from his nerveless fingers. The pain was blinding, white-hot and consuming. He dropped to his knees, held up only by the Villain's crushing grip on his shattered arm. Tears of agony mingled with the blood on his face.
The Villain raised his other fist, preparing to crush Shoho's skull like a ripe melon.
The Arrival
Then…
It wasn't a roar. It wasn't an explosion.
It was something far more terrifying.
A faint sound echoed through the jungle's silence—a high-pitched whistling, like a katana cutting through the air, or a whisper carried by a sudden, unnatural wind.
Whoooooosh.
The temperature in the clearing plummeted. The humidity vanished, replaced by a biting, dry chill that pricked the skin.
The Villain froze. His survival instinct, honed by years of brutality, screamed at him. He paused his killing blow and suddenly turned his massive head toward the dense treeline.
"What?" the Villain grunted, his eyes narrowing.
Mist began to spread between the trees. It wasn't natural fog; it was thick, swirling, and darker than the night itself. It moved with purpose, curling around the trunks like phantom snakes.
From within that swirling darkness, the sound of footsteps emerged. Not heavy like the Villain's, but soft. deliberate.
Crunch. Crunch.
A silhouette detached itself from the shadows.
Shoho, half-conscious and dangling from the Villain's grip, forced his eyes open. Through the haze of pain, he saw the figure.
Black clothes. A tattered cloak that seemed to be made of smoke. A posture of utter, terrifying calm.
Shoho's breath hitched in his throat. His heart skipped a beat, then hammered against his ribs. He knew that silhouette. He knew the way that figure walked. He recognized that face—even though it had been a year, even though the boy had become a ghost.
"Aura…" he whispered softly, the name escaping his bloody lips like a prayer.
The Fight
The Villain dropped Shoho.
Shoho hit the ground hard, clutching his broken arm, but he didn't look away. He couldn't.
Aura stood before the Villain without a word. The distance between them was twenty feet, yet Aura's presence filled the entire forest.
As he stepped into a patch of moonlight, Shoho saw him clearly.
He was leaner than before, his features sharper, carved from hardship. But it was his eyes that terrified Shoho.
His eyes were not as they used to be—there was a coldness in them, a vast, abyssal emptiness. It was as if the human part of him, the part that laughed and cried, had been excised. He looked at the monster in front of him not with fear, not with anger, but with the indifference of a butcher looking at a piece of meat.
A torn Shadow Cloak hung from his shoulders, fluttering in a wind that didn't exist. From his clenched right fist, faint tendrils of black energy leaked out, dissolving into the air like ink in water.
Villain (Laughing nervously):
"And who is this… another victim? Do you wish to join them in hell, little boy?"
The Villain tried to mask his unease with arrogance. He pounded his chest, the stone skin ringing like a bell.
Aura didn't speak. He didn't blink. He simply tilted his head slightly.
"Die!" the Villain roared, charging forward like a bull. He pulled back his fist, aiming to obliterate this new annoyance with a single blow.
But before the Villain could strike—before his fist could even traverse half the distance—Aura moved.
Or rather, he ceased to exist in that spot.
Zwoop.
There was no blur of motion. One moment Aura was there, and the next, he was gone.
CRACK.
The sound of impact came from the Villain's side. Aura had materialized instantly within the Villain's guard, his fist buried deep into the monster's ribs.
The stone skin—the skin that had shattered Shoho's sword—fractured. Spiderweb cracks spread across the Villain's torso.
"Gah!" The Villain staggered back, gasping for air, his eyes wide with shock. "Impossible… my skin…!"
Aura didn't waste a second. He didn't wait for the Villain to recover. His combat style was surgical, devoid of wasted movement.
He flowed like water. As the Villain stumbled, Aura grabbed the back of the monster's head with one hand and drove a sharp knee into his gut.
THUD.
The force lifted the giant off the ground. The Villain retched, saliva and blood spraying out. Aura spun, gripping the Villain's massive neck, and with a torque that seemed impossible for his frame, slammed him into the earth.
BOOM.
A crater formed where the Villain's head hit the soil. Dust and debris exploded outward.
Shoho watched it all, his mouth slightly agape, ignoring the throbbing in his arm.
"It's the same Aura…" he thought, a mix of awe and horror rising in his chest. "But something is different. He isn't fighting to win. He's fighting to exterminate."
The Villain, dazed and terrified, tried to rise. He scrambled backward on his hands and knees. "Stay back! What… what are you?!"
Aura stood over him. Slowly, he raised his right hand.
His eyes began to glow—not red, but a deep, void-like black. The sclera darkened, consuming the white.
The Shadow Mark on his palm ignited, pulsing with a sinister purple-black light.
The shadows on the forest floor began to writhe. They detached themselves from the trees and slithered toward the Villain, obeying Aura's silent command.
Aura clenched his hand.
He seized the Villain's shadow.
Villain: "NO! STOP! IT BURNS!"
In the next moment, the Villain's scream echoed through the entire jungle, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. The darkness didn't just cover him; it ate him. It devoured his stone skin, his flesh, his very existence.
The scream was cut short abruptly.
The shadows receded, slithering back to Aura's feet.
Where the Villain had been, there was nothing. No body. No blood.
Just a pile of grey dust, scattering in the breeze.
The Walk Away
The silence returned, but this time, it was heavier. It was the silence of a graveyard after the burial.
Aura stood there for a moment, the glow in his eyes fading back to a dull, lifeless dark. He didn't check for other enemies. He didn't celebrate.
Aura didn't even glance at Shoho or Uno.
He simply turned his back to them, adjusted the tattered cloak over his shoulder, and began to walk away—as if his presence meant nothing. As if saving them was just a chore he had completed on his way to somewhere else.
Shoho stared, unable to comprehend. His brother-in-arms, the lost heir, was walking away?
Shoho (Shouting):
"Aura! Stop…! Where have you been all these days?!"
The shout tore at Shoho's throat. He tried to stand, stumbling as pain shot through his arm.
But Aura didn't stop.
His steps were slow, methodical. They carried a strange weight—the posture of a man carrying the world on his back, a man who no longer wished to connect with anyone because connection meant pain.
"Don't ignore me!" Shoho gritted his teeth.
Ignoring the agony in his shattered bones, Shoho forced his legs to move. He ran, stumbling over roots, breathless and desperate. He reached out with his good hand.
He grabbed Aura's shoulder.
"Aura… do you even know how long we've been looking for you? The clan… the government… everyone thinks you're dead!"
Aura stopped.
He slowly turned his head. He looked at Shoho's hand on his shoulder, then up at Shoho's face.
His expression was a mask of stone.
"Didn't I say..." Aura's voice was a rasp, unused and dry, like dead leaves scraping together. "...don't try to find me?"
There was no anger in his voice. There was no joy at seeing his friend alive.
There was only emptiness. A void where a soul used to be.
The Crack
That emptiness hurt Shoho more than the Villain's punch ever could.
Shoho's anger and fear both spilled over. The relief of being saved clashed with the fury of being abandoned.
He shook Aura violently, his fingers digging into the torn fabric of the cloak.
"Is that all you have to say?! 'Don't find me'?" Shoho yelled, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. "You think we don't care? You think you can just vanish?"
Aura remained impassive, like a statue weathering a storm.
"You selfish bastard!" Shoho screamed, his voice breaking. "You think the pain of Arzen's death belongs only to you?! You think you're the only one who lost a brother?!"
The name hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Arzen.
For the first time, the mask cracked.
Aura's expression shifted for a brief, agonizing moment. His eyes widened slightly. The corner of his lip trembled. A flash of raw, undiluted grief passed over his face—the look of a child who is lost and scared.
But it lasted only a second.
Aura clamped his jaw shut. He hardened his gaze, burying the pain back deep inside where no one could see it.
He simply reached up, took Shoho's hand, and removed it from his shoulder. He didn't shove him. He just… let go.
He turned to walk away again.
Shoho felt his heart shatter. The invincible Aura, the leader they needed, was broken.
"Brother… please… don't go."
Shoho's voice cracked into a sob. He fell to his knees, no longer having the strength to stand. "We need you. I need you."
The Decision
The plea hung in the cold night air.
Aura walked a few steps, the dry leaves crunching under his worn boots. Then, he stopped.
He didn't turn his body, just his head. He looked back at Shoho—wounded, exhausted, clutching his broken arm, but staring back with eyes full of desperate hope. He looked past Shoho to where Uno lay unconscious.
A flicker of conflict crossed Aura's face. He remembered the warmth of the clan. He remembered the promise of brotherhood.
But then he remembered the blood on his hands. He remembered Arzen's cold body. He remembered that everyone close to him ended up hurt.
Aura (Softly):
"You will always remain this way, Shoho… full of hope. Full of light."
He looked up at the moon, his eyes reflecting the desolation of his soul.
"But I can no longer be like that."
The sentence was a final verdict.
He pulled his hood up, casting his face in shadow.
"Take care of Uno," he murmured.
Before Shoho could say another word, Aura stepped forward. The shadows between the trees seemed to rise up and embrace him. He didn't just walk into the darkness; he merged with it.
One moment he was there, a silhouette of tragedy. The next, he was gone.
The jungle was silent again.
Shoho slumped to the ground, the physical pain finally catching up to him. He looked at the empty space where Aura had stood, then turned his gaze to Uno.
He realized then, with a heavy heart, that the Aura they knew died that night with Arzen. The thing that walked in the jungle now… was a phantom made of regret and ash.
Shoho closed his eyes, the tears mixing with the blood on his cheeks.
"He's gone," he whispered to the silence. "He's really gone."
Chapter End – To be continued…