“Aren’t we supposed to leave for the Well, father?”

Tanya Shimizu was ecstatic. Even among her esteemed cousins, getting to perform a kami-summoning at the age of eleven was a praiseworthy accomplishment. Most people tended to begin at thirteen, and usually contracted a spirit after a year or two of practice.

But she was different. As heir to the Shimizu name, Tanya was the cherished daughter of the clan, someone who had the potential to reach the rank of Archmage should she continue on her path with due diligence. Her affinity with the Shikigami— or the Familiar-Binding spell, as it was commonly called —far exceeded that of her cousins’, and her manipulation was inferior to none but her own father.

Even among the geniuses of the Shimizu, Tanya was a gem.

A true prodigy.

The pearl of her father’s eye, adored by the clans, and the future of the Shimizu name; she had it all. But even so, it had been a very welcome surprise when the clan elders offered her a chance to form a contract with a kami.

“Father?”

“Hmm?” he replied absently, as if he hadn’t heard her the first time.

Tanya frowned. She knew kami were dangerous, but also the most powerful weapons Asukans had in their arsenal. Being the natural forces of nature that they were, they served as excellent weapons to be wielded in accordance with the spiritist’s own volitions.

The kami was the instrument, but it was the spiritist who strummed its strings.

Of course, one couldn’t just find and bind a kami. For that, they had to traverse through the borderlands, places where the rules of reality were twisted; synapses between the real world and intersecting world called Ikai, the dominion of spirits. And the most infamous borderland in Cyffnar was the Well of Kami, an antiquated edifice in the midst of an alluringly dangerous swamp with an unmatched death toll.

A place where one could get into the heart of Ikai, where the most powerful spirits dwelt.

“Father?” she repeated. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

Tanya sighed. Her mother had died of childbirth, leaving her in the care of the most seasoned warrior of the clan, Entheran Shimizu— known and feared across the entire Eaborid kingdom for his prowess.

A man that had single-handedly destroyed all insurgencies.

A man she had come to love and respect as her father.

A man that was currently annoying the hell out of her.

“Have I angered you somehow?”

Her father glanced towards her, his brown eyes meeting her bright blue. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’ve been dodging all my questions! Whenever we talk about me getting a kami, you grow silent. Do you—” her lips quivered, “do you think I’m too weak to—”

The rest of her words died in her throat as he held a finger to her lips. “Never say that,” her father replied in his distinct, soothing baritone. “You are not weak, Tanya. You are strong. You are a princess, destined to rule.”

“I’m no princess,” she huffed.

“You are to me,” Entheran smiled.

“Then why do—”

“Because I don’t want you to go ahead with it.”

“What?!” Tanya retorted hotly. “I can manage—”

“This isn’t about your ability, because I know you are strong enough,” Entheran replied, caressing her cheek. “You have been born with potential never before seen in this clan. You are destined for greatness, and I’ll not have that potential wasted by some undeserving kami.”

“But—”

“Tanya,” her father stressed, “once you take part in the Shikigami ritual, the bond is permanent. There is no going back. Even if your kami perishes, it will leave a scar upon that unbridled potential. That is why I want you to wait. I want you to hone your power first so you can have the best of the best.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

“I wish for you to take my place, child,” her father smiled. “Succeed where I failed. Become the next Wind King.”

Tanya blinked.

Her eyes became wide.

“Father, if this is some kind of joke—”

“It isn’t,” the man continued, seriousness etched into his visage. “Before me, Ezzeron belonged to my own grandfather, the Wind King himself. Its power over Wind is formidable in my hands, but I’m afraid I have been limiting Ezzeron’s development. In your hands, the kami can reach its zenith, and so can you. Be the beast of ruin that your great-grandfather was. Embody the true wrath of the Wind King.”

She gulped. “But— but— what if you’re wrong?”

“You are born to rule,” Entheran replied softly. “The elders want you trained and on the field, but I wish for you to study our past. Grasp your true strength as an Asukan, and hone it to its maximum potential. And once you are ready, you will tame my kami. The untamable beast, Ezzeron.”

Tanya gaped at her father. All sorts of thoughts rushed through the forefront of her mind, yet she found she couldn’t utter a single one.

“The only question is, will you do it?”

She nervously looked down at her feet. She thought about the spanning history of her clan. She pondered about her own burgeoning prowess and her importance to the family. She grit her teeth as she started to truly grasp the weight of the burden her father was placing on her. She stared the man down as he patiently waited for her response.

Then, Tanya spoke.

The battle was something else.

Tanya could hear it happening all around her. She could smell the blood and death in the air. Between the creatures of the night, the reiki, and the Cyffnarian soldiers, she had already guessed that a larger game was afoot— something she hadn’t been able to unfurl as of yet.

Then again, when you had several thousands pounds of angry beast coming at you, you tended to be preoccupied.

But as much as she wanted to continue fighting and killing those beasts, she could not ignore the oddities of the skirmish. The utter strangeness of the fact that Cyffnarians teamed up with those things to kill fellow Asukans. And if that weren’t enough, Olfric Bergott of all people saved Zuken’s life by throwing a sudden attack into the fray.

There she was, maiming the pair of hounds and creating several dozen cuts all over their hulking forms, but the reiki continued to fight without a care in the world. But Olfric killed a single one of their team members, and the hounds completely lost it.

Did nobody have their priorities straight anymore?

She saw one of the beasts in front of her rush towards Olfric with a clear intent to kill. Obnoxious dickhead or not, the man had just saved her team captain’s life, and she’d be damned if she allowed him to come to harm for stepping in when he did.

Tanya raised her hand, and deep within her, magic began to churn.

Flaywind Blade, Tanya thought to herself, doing her best to ensure the effect was as weak as she’d intended. After all, there was no need to have the entire place explode and kill everyone inside, including herself and her friends.

She had to be careful, because Ezzeron wasn’t like other kami.

In the past, Tanya had seen Zuken do his best to get the maximum force out of his kami, allowing it to perform as much as possible with Zuken’s limited mana supply. But Ezzeron was a true force of nature, one whose mastery over the Wind element was nigh unparalleled. Even the slightest sliver of mana was enough to allow the kami to create a vortex of rushing winds that could be classified as dance of death.

It was why with Ezzeron, she always had to hold herself back.

And in the process, hold the wrath of the Wind King from destroying everything.

It was her purpose. It would always be her purpose. Just like her father always wanted.

Compressed wind, shaped in the form of a weakened blade, rippled through the air towards the back of the beast. But before it could make contact, something nearly invisible and sharp tore through the creature, stopping it dead in its tracks.

With blood spurting and a shocked groan, the four-legged creature flopped uselessly onto the ground.

Looks like Bergott has some more tricks up his sleeve.

The single moment was enough to change the tide of the battle entirely, as the remaining beasts scrambled to flee, recognizing the botched attempt. Elena had introduced one of the soldiers’ heads to a giant rock, causing the unsuspected buffoon to fall unconscious. The rest of the group— those beasts, Tanya grit her teeth at the realization —were now running away, and it was up to her to capture them and kill them mercilessly. Just like they had when—

A soul-wrenching scream tore apart the anomaly around her, threatening to deafen her by sheer volume. But there was another quality to it, something eerie and insane and powerful all at once. She could feel it pressing against her mind, with the knowledge that she’d be forever tainted if she allowed it to penetrate through her mental defenses.

Tanya’s knee hit the floor to keep her balance as she fell, but it wasn’t enough. She flopped onto her side and curled into herself like a baby, tears tracking down her cheeks.

She had to act. She had to do something, anything. She— she had to—

“INCOMING!” Elena yelled in hysteria.

Summoning what little strength and controls he had, Tanya whirled towards her in shock and confusion. But it was too little too late, as the floor beneath her erupted in a titanic explosion.

For centuries, the desert of Namzuhuu had been a haven for the yokai. The mystical curse, cast upon the vicious sun-goddess by Emperor Meynte’s dying breath, held true to this day— no organism with a trace of Asukan blood could cross the sands and live to tell the tale.

During the day, the sun’s rays would change from lifebringer to ravager. It would dry one’s throat, suck out lifeforce from their bodies as it fiddled with their minds. Lost between illusion and fear and hunger, the prey would be slowly devoured by the spirit of the desert itself.

At night, the desert curse took on a new form. Senbiki okami— a thousand wolves. It was an illusory curse that manifested as semi-physical beasts and hunted down travelers. A manifestation of Emperor Meynte’s desire to see every Asukan dragged, mutilated, and forced to perish in the most violent and brutal manner possible.

And from the moment of its conception, the desert had done so. There was a reason, after all, why Namzuhuu had earned its infamous moniker.

The Man-Eater.

And it had been so, until recently.

As much as Kasha wanted to blame the anomaly, she knew it was not truly to blame. Like any other creature trying to survive the harsh conditions of the desert, the anomaly had been immune to its wrath. Much like the yokai populace, it too had chosen the subterranean world as its bed.

It had thrived.

And grown.

And now, it was contesting for territory with the yokai populace. For space, food, and authority.

No wonder the Leader had chosen to take an active stand against this invading organism. Anyone would have been troubled were they to constantly be on the move, fearing an attack by some organism that could cross walls as if they were made of sand.

The real question, however, was something else entirely.

Was it really a good idea to bring an infernal Asukan of all beings, to solve their problems? The Kasha did not know. She knew the Leader thought of things differently. Regardless of the Asukan’s infernal mannerisms, there was something about him that had allowed him to escape the thousand wolves. Was it his skill? Or sacrifice? Or perhaps sheer blind luck?

It all came down to three possibilities.

One, the desert’s wrath had been weakened over time. They simply had not noticed until now.

Two, the pesky Asukans had developed some sort of counter to the curse’s maliciousness.

Or perhaps three, someone— or something —had generated an abrupt and active dampening of the desert’s curse. And as much as the Kasha didn’t want to believe in this terrifying prospect, the chances were still there. Death curses were maliciously overpowered, often dangerously so, but their counter often lay in something esoteric. Only one of Emperor Meynte’s blood, someone within whom his legendary power ran, could possibly instigate such a weakness in the curse.

The Kasha knew the Leader was wondering whether this prick was actually it.

A part of her hoped it was true. How else could this Asukan, out of everyone else in his little group, survive all by himself?

But at the same time, the very idea that this prick was actually a descendant of their long-lost Emperor was just… appalling.

The Kasha bumped into the shoulders of the enthralled soldier walking in front of her.

“What?” she irritatedly growled.

“There’s something out there,” he replied, raising his halberd into an offensive stance.

Say what you would about those bremetans, but they were definitely quick to violence. Give a bremetan a weapon, and their propensity to think with their fists instead of their minds automatically doubled.

“What is it?” she asked. “Another monster?”

“No it’s— it’s a bremetan. I can sense it.”

Sensing. It was one of the skills the Kasha was absolutely pants at. Give her a fire fight, and she could destroy everything in sight. The Kasha wasn’t terribly good with shape manipulation, but her ability to belch out torrents of thick, crimson flames made her an expert hunter.

It helped that most organisms of flesh were incredibly combustible.

“Is it one of ours?”

“No,” the soldier replied. “There is something… odd about this one. It seems like a bremetan, but—”

“But nothing. It’s not one of us, so we’ll go and kill it.”

Never let it be said that the Kasha was ever one to waste time on trivialities. It helped that she only, if ever, had one question when it came to a fight.

Kill?

Her possessed form slowly began to shift. The bremetan body folded as the toes twisted and became longer, its nails arcing upward until they were larger than an average finger. A pair of brightly-lit eyes appeared over the face of the now four-legged human, and fire— mystical, bright, crimson — began to slowly ooze from her physical body.

Transformations often ended in the utter destruction of the possessed body, but the Kasha hadn’t gotten to this point in life by stopping to think about things.

Snarling, she tensed her hind legs, ready to bolt forward at a moment’s notice.

“Let the hunt begin!”