Takahiro huddled behind the massive doors, his heart hammering against his ribs as hot tears tracked through the dust on his cheeks. He wanted to scream, to sob, but he was paralyzed. He had stood there and watched his brother be broken
.A party faces danger together.
Those were the words he'd told Kenji. But when the moment came, what had he done? He had done nothing. He had simply watched.
"Come on, brat. You're wasting my time," the fat man growled.
Takahiro took a jagged breath. He had to be calm. He had to be a warrior. He stepped out from behind the heavy white stone door and entered the room. Yellow Maw and the Cowboy turned, their eyes lighting up with sudden interest.
"Damn, that's some fine merchandise right there," the Cowboy said, adjusting the brim of his hat.
"You're right," Yellow Maw agreed, his voice slick with greed. "Brat, don't fight. Just come here and we'll take you somewhere nice. Or," he gestured toward the crates where Kenji lay motionless and bloodied, "I can do to you what I did to the other one."
To them, Takahiro wasn't a boy; he was a high-end product. With his golden-blonde hair, handsome features, and rare emerald eyes, he was a prize to be sold.
Takahiro's heart sank, and he bit his lip until he tasted copper. He looked at Kenji, then turned back to Yellow Maw, his gaze hardening into something resolute. He drew the katana from his waist.
"Let everyone go. Then leave," he commanded, leveling the blade at the pirate.
Yellow Maw barked a laugh, but Takahiro wasn't listening anymore. He turned his focus inward, igniting the Hashi within his core. His spirit brightened, pulsing with life. He didn't rush in blindly. Instead, he centered himself—his feet, his shoulders, his hands—preparing his body to receive the impact of the enemy.
Yellow Maw scowled. "You're not coming quietly, then? Fine. I'll do the honors."
The big man charged. He swung a massive fist downward, but this strike was different from the ones he'd used on Kenji—it was infused with Hashi, vibrating with destructive power.
Takahiro sidestepped the blow with a fluid motion, readjusting his stance to slash at Yellow Maw's exposed side. His blade bit into the man's shielding forearm, but there was no spray of blood. The steel slid off the skin as if it had hit stone, leaving no wound behind.
Takahiro's eyes widened. Nothing?
Yellow Maw didn't give him time to think. He followed up with a straight punch that slammed into Takahiro's guard. The force sent the boy skidding backward. Before Takahiro could recover his footing, Yellow Maw delivered a Hashi-infused Spartan kick to his chest.
The impact was cataclysmic. Takahiro's katana snapped in half, and a sickening crack echoed from his ribs.
He groaned, clutching his chest as he collapsed. He stared at the jagged remains of his broken sword.
"Are you really planning on breaking the kid? Listen, Maw, that's a high-end product," the Cowboy warned. "You don't need to ruin him."
"Shut up. I was nice to the brat. I offered him the easy way, but he wanted to be a hero," Yellow Maw said, stalking toward Takahiro. "Besides, we have enough healing potions to fix him after I break his spirit. He needs to learn to act like a slave."
He really does hate kids, the Cowboy thought, sitting on the Throne's stairs.
Takahiro's eyes scanned the floor, landing on the elegant white-hilted katana Kenji had dropped. It was only a few feet away. Yellow Maw followed his gaze and lunged, his massive frame slamming into Takahiro like a battering ram.
The boy was launched into the stone wall. His head struck the masonry with a dull thud, blacking out his vision for a terrifying second. As he slid to the floor, he felt a spreading warmth behind his skull. He reached back; his hand came away drenched in crimson.
He struggled to stand, but the room was spinning. His balance was gone. Deep within, he searched for his core—that small, shining orb of energy. He forced the Hashi into his legs, preparing for one desperate gamble.
He watched Yellow Maw approach, waiting for the exact moment the man overextended. When the pirate took one step too many, Takahiro ignited the energy in his feet and launched forward in a blur of speed.
Yellow Maw swung to intercept him, but Takahiro dropped, toppling beneath the man's reach and avoiding the blow by a hair's breadth.
The Cowboy whistled, impressed.
Takahiro scrambled to his feet and snatched up the white-hilted katana. He leveled it, but his vision was doubling. The back of his shirt was soaked with blood. He shook his head, glancing at the other captive children, then at Kenji, before refocusing on the pirate.
"Put the sword down, brat," Yellow Maw threatened, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Or when I catch you, I'm cutting off your hands."
Yellow Maw charged at full speed. Takahiro sparked his core again, trying to concentrate, but the collision was unavoidable. He was sent tumbling back, though unlike Kenji, he kept his white-knuckled grip on the hilt.
As Takahiro tried to rise, a heavy boot slammed down on his arms, pinning him to the floor. Yellow Maw looked down at him with a sadistic grin.
"Cowboy! Bring me my axe!"
The Cowboy frowned. "You know, Pirate, I ain't your lackey." Despite his words, he walked toward the throne and hoisted a massive, heavy axe with both hands. "Shit, Maw. Aren't pirates supposed to carry sabers?"
He tossed the heavy weapon. It spun through the air, and Yellow Maw caught it effortlessly with one hand. He looked down at Takahiro's pinned arms.
"I told you, brat. You brought this on yourself."
He raised the axe high, the steel gleaming in the dim light. But just as he began the downward swing, a sound like thunder echoed through the hall.
Something shattered.
Yellow Maw froze, turning toward the source of the noise. A massive apparition of blue fire had erupted in the room, flickering with a cold, ghostly light.