The Weight of the Ruin

The impact was devastating.

(¡¡¡BOOOOOM-KRRRASH-SHATTER!!!)

The forest shook as the dragon’s colossal mass was projected against the ground, carving a deep furrow into the scorched earth and kicking up a wall of ash and embers.

"¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEE-AGGGHHH!!!"

Once on the ground, a roar of pure agony—more metallic and harrowing than any previous sound—escaped the beast’s maw as its nervous system collapsed under the inertial shock of the slashing impact.

"¡¡BLEGH!!"

In the midst of the resulting chaos, Shija landed, vomiting blood as his feet touched the burning ground and his legs immediately gave way to exhaustion.

(¡¡¡THUD-COUGH-SPLAT!!!)

He fell to his knees, his body wracked by violent spasms.

"¡¡Ghuukk...!!"

His hands sank into the hot ash while a violent coughing fit forced him to hunch over; a stream of dark blood gushed from his lips, staining the gray ground as he struggled to catch the air his lungs could no longer process.

"¡¡HAAAA... UGHH-K-BLUURGH!!"

It was then that the change occurred.

(My chest... It’s burning!!)

His astral form, which until that moment had been a translucent and ethereal silhouette, began to flicker with violent static.

(¡¡¡BZZZT-GLITCH-WHIRR!!!)

Amidst the spasms, the astral form that made up his body began to gain an unnatural substance.

"¡¡ARGH!!"

It wasn't living flesh, but it wasn't just energy either. Shija was trapped in an intermediate state, becoming more solid, gaining a physical density that made him feel the weight of gravity and the sting of his wounds with a new intensity.

(What the hell is this?!)

Shija tried to stand, but his hands—now denser and heavier—sank deep into the mire of ash and blood.

"¡¡¡GRRR-HAAAH... HAAAH...!!!"

A wheezing gasp escaped his throat, a sound that mingled with the echo of the beast's growls in the distance; he grit his teeth, unable to suppress a guttural groan in sync with the cracking of his astral bones.

(¡¡¡CRACK-SNAP... WHIRRR!!!)

His silhouette began to shrink. The clothes that had previously fit him perfectly began to hang from his shoulders like an oversized sheet.

"¡¡!!"

Shija's face, which until a few moments ago showed the premature maturity of a twelve or thirteen-year-old adolescent, softened violently. His sharp features vanished, replaced by the roundness of early childhood.

(¡¡¡HISS-GLITCH-POP!!!)

His limbs shortened, his fingers became small and clumsy, and his height diminished until he was reduced to the physical form of a child barely five years old.

"¡¡¡UHHG... KGHHH...!!!"

It was a brutal regression; every inch lost was accompanied by a gasp of agony that tore at his vocal cords.

(CONCENTRATE...!!)

Huddled on the ground, Shija now looked like an infant lost in the middle of a war. His semi-solid, translucent form pulsed with an unstable light as he continued to vomit bursts of energy and blood, trying to understand why his own existence was betraying him just when he needed his strength most.

(RESIST...!! HOLD TOGETHER!!)

Shija clung to the ashes, closing his eyes so tightly his eyelids hurt. He felt the environment—no, he felt as if the whole world was starting to seep into the edges of his consciousness.

"I AM...!!"

His mind, his history, and his memories seemed to turn pale, as if an invisible hand were passing an eraser over the canvas of his existence.

"SHIJA RETSU!!"

The world was trying to "assimilate" him and integrate him into its chaotic structure, erasing the warrior to give birth to a new life without a past.

"¡¡¡HUMMMMMM-I-I!!!"

The sensation of "whitewashing" was suffocating; it was as if a tide of thousands or billions of wills were trying to drown out his own.

"I AM THE DISCIPLE OF THE KYŌGETSU STYLE!!"

Shija, in his five-year-old body, was utterly unable to defend himself physically.

"I WILL RECOVER MY MASTER!!!"

He was on the verge of being integrated by the environment, of ceasing to be Shija to become part of something entirely new and alien to him.

<"I didn't expect him to enter inside my soul... Haaa... Seems I'll have to help...">

Then, something deep within his core reacted with electrical violence in response to a voice that Shija, in his agonizing state, was unable to recognize.

(¡¡¡VZZZZZT-CRACKLE-SHHHH!!!)

The process of assimilation stopped dead, halted by one of the dominant wills of that world.

<"Mmm... As I thought... I can't stop the process... But at least I can delay it~!">

From the center of his chest, a network of emerald lines sprouted with a blinding glow.

<"I wonder if you'll be able to escape before it's too late~">

They were like veins of liquid light crawling beneath his translucent, semi-solid skin, moving with a fierce will of their own.

(¡¡¡THUMP-PULSE-HISS!!!)

The lines were not static; they twisted and expanded like living serpents claiming the territory of his body.

"¡¡Kgh... Aaagh...!!!"

They were an absolute defense system that rejected integration, pushing the environment's influence outward with a hiss of pure energy.

(¡¡¡GAAHHH-HAAAH-HISS!!!)

The emerald light fought against the very essence of the structure that formed the environment, attempting to delay an inevitable process and protecting Shija's identity at an agonizing cost.

"MY NAME IS...!!!"

Each time the emerald lines forced the rejection, his small body arched in spasms, feeling as if his own blood were made of boiling electricity.

"SHIJA RETSSUUUU!!!"

When the process finally stabilized, Shija lay collapsed, panting erratically on the black crystal; the lines still pulsed faintly under his skin, marking the boundary between him and the void of an "abyss" he could not comprehend.

"¡¡¡HAAAH... HAAAH... FSSSSSS!!!"

Shija remained lying on the ground which, little by little, began to regain its original color under the residual glow of that emerald energy beneath the shelter of the flames.

(... What... Damn it... What the hell was that...)

Finally, Shija began to regain consciousness, unaware of how much time had passed submerged in that torment.

(Was this... what happened to my body when I had that vision...?)

In that void where his mind was nearly erased, seconds felt like centuries and centuries like a simple blink.

In that way, silence returned to the forest—a heavy, smoky silence only cut by his wheezing breath.

(This is...)

In that state, Shija noticed how the emerald lines under his now-infantile skin were fading, ceasing to burn, but leaving a trail of exhaustion that prevented him from even clenching his fists.

(They're like... snakes)

With blurred vision and his consciousness still scattered, Shija half-opened his eyes.

(What... is happening...?)

Through the haze and the stinging sweat, he noticed something impossible.

(¡¡¡BLUR-WHIRRR-SHRINK!!!)

The colossal silhouette of the dragon, that mountain of crimson fury that blocked the horizon, was changing. He saw the beast's edges blur. The creature’s monumental size began to shrink at a dizzying speed, collapsing in on itself in a series of silent spasms.

(A... girl?)

What was once a terrifying presence was turning into something small, something that no longer emitted heat or hatred. In his semi-delirious state, Shija could only watch as the darkness of the predator gave way to an explosion of small, disordered colors huddling in the center of the disaster.

{¡¡¡HIC... WHIMPER... HIC!!!}

Through the ringing in his ears, a sound managed to pierce his daze...

(Crying...)

It was a high-pitched, broken sound, filled with a loneliness that Shija recognized instantly.

"...."

Looking up with effort, he saw the small figure of colorful reticulation huddled, trembling in the midst of the devastation.

(You destroyed... my house... Haaa...)

In that moment, the words she had screamed before—about her house, about her effort, about the home she had worked so hard to build—resonated in his mind with the force of an impact.

"......"

Shija turned his head slowly, observing the surroundings.

(¡¡¡CRACKLE-SNAP... FSSSSSSS!!!)

What he previously saw as a "battlefield" or a "threat zone" was now revealed to his eyes as what it truly was: the charred remains of a sanctuary.

(Preserve the dignity of the Kyōgetsu style...)

Every burning trunk and every destroyed corner were pieces of the life of someone who only wanted peace.

(They were words... so hypocritical...)

He pressed his lips together tightly, causing a new thread of blood to trickle down his chin.

(¡¡¡THUMP-THUMP!!!)

He wasn't a hero saving the day; he was an invader who, by accident, had destroyed the only treasure of a defenseless being.

(I broke it... I broke everything...)

With his body still vibrating from the spasms and the emerald lines vanishing, Shija forced himself to move.

"Hey..."

He dragged his small body, crawling through the embers, ignoring the pain in his knees.

"...."

{....}

He didn't care if she tried to kill him again; he needed to make amends.

{Y-you...you, you, you, you, you, you, you!!}

He stopped a few meters from the ragdoll, who was still submerged in her agony.

(¡¡¡FWOOSH-MORPH!!!)

He took a breath, feeling the smoke burn his throat, and with a voice that was barely a broken but firm whisper, he prepared to speak as she transformed into a hawk out of pure shame.

{¡¡¡YOU SAW NOTHING!!}

Before the majestic but frightened bird, Shija knelt with passion...

"Forgive me..."

He was no longer a warrior defeating a beast; he was a child apologizing to another for having broken her most precious toy: her world.