The sky dawned dull, wrapped in a soft mist that clung to the trees as if afraid of being forgotten. Donyoku, Chisiki, and Reiji walked along a narrow dirt path on the outskirts of the village. After several days of training, the time had come to face a real mission: the hunt for Wandering Souls.
"Wandering Souls?" asked Donyoku as he adjusted the bandages on his arm. "What kind of creatures are they, exactly?"
"They're not ordinary monsters," Reiji replied seriously, stopping in front of a dark crevice in the ground. "They're fragments of humans who've lost their will… what remains when someone dies with deep resentment, or when their soul is torn apart by the unstable use of a Shinkon."
"And are they still aware of what they once were?" Chisiki added, frowning.
"To a degree," Reiji nodded. "Sometimes their laments can be heard at night. They're not seeking destruction… they're trying to remember. But that search corrupts them, and they attack anything alive. If one of you falls, you won't die. But you could lose something far worse—your essence."
Donyoku swallowed hard. Despite his desire for justice, something inside him stirred at the thought of these creatures. Could someone really be trapped between memory and fury?
They reached a more open area, where the fog thickened and the silence hung heavy like a tombstone. The trees, dry and bare, seemed to have died long ago.
"This is the place," said Reiji. "Listen carefully: these souls can't be defeated by strength alone. You must use your Shinkon to reach their spiritual core, right at the center of the chest. But... if you hesitate, if you show fear, your essence will falter… and they feed on that."
"Then we'd better not hesitate," murmured Chisiki, activating his spatial aura. Fragments of the ground began to float around him, like broken constellations.
Donyoku took a deep breath, letting his crimson aura wrap around him. Though still unstable, he had gained some control thanks to training. I just have to protect those I love… nothing else.
A distant roar alerted them. From within the mist emerged the first Wandering Soul: a tall, misshapen figure, with a white eyeless mask and twisted limbs. Its body seemed made of smoke and scraps of rusted armor.
"Donyoku, right flank!!" shouted Reiji. "Chisiki, create a spatial barrier around its core!"
The battle began. The Wandering Souls were fast and unpredictable. Every blow drained a part of the fighters' aura, as if absorbing their emotions.
Chisiki executed a precise technique, trapping one of the souls in a bubble of distorted space. Donyoku, on the other hand, charged at the main creature, his Shinkon wavering between control and chaos.
"Now!" Reiji ordered.
Donyoku focused his energy and struck the creature's chest. For an instant, he heard a voice.
"Where is my daughter...? Why did they let me die like this…?"
His fist trembled—but he didn't pull back.
With a roar, the spiritual energy unraveled. The soul burst into a cloud of light, dissolving into peace at last.
When it was over, the three stood in silence, breathing heavily.
"…Did you hear them?" Donyoku finally asked.
"Yes," Chisiki replied in a low voice. "They weren't just monsters."
Reiji nodded solemnly.
"That's why we must become stronger. Not just to protect, but to prevent this from happening to others."
In the shadows, not far away, a figure watched them. His face was hidden under a hood, but his eyes glowed with a strange intensity. A dark energy surrounded him, barely perceptible… and on his left arm, a small symbol was marked into his skin.
"So this… is the power of the human soul," he whispered. "Interesting."
The sun began to peek through the trees as the group returned to the village. Their steps were heavy, not just from physical exhaustion, but from the echoes of the voices they'd heard during the hunt. The Wandering Souls had shown them not only human fragility… but how close the soul stands to the abyss.
Donyoku walked in silence, serious, eyes downcast. Chisiki glanced at him but said nothing. Reiji led the way, not looking back. He knew the two young men were silently processing what they had experienced.
As they reached the village center, they were greeted by a familiar figure: Aika, the girl with messy brown braids, sitting by the well with a basket in her hands.
"Oh! You're back!" she exclaimed, standing up immediately.
"Hey, Aika," Chisiki greeted with a faint smile.
"How was it? Are you okay? I saw a strange light in the forest last night!"
"We're in one piece, thankfully," Reiji replied, stopping beside her. "Were you waiting for someone?"
"Well, I brought this," she said, lifting the basket. "I figured you'd be hungry. I made onigiri! Don't laugh—I made them all by myself."
Donyoku was surprised to see her. For a moment, his stern expression softened.
"Thank you, Aika… they look delicious."
"Of course! I've been training with Grandma to cook better," she said, blushing. "Besides, I couldn't just sit around knowing you guys were out there fighting spooky things."
"Did you hear anything?" Reiji asked with interest.
"No… just silence," she replied. "But the kind of silence that makes noise."
Reiji looked at her for a few seconds, analyzing her words. Then he nodded and walked away, leaving the three young ones alone.
Aika approached Donyoku, shyly offering him an onigiri.
"And you? Are you alright? You seem… different."
Donyoku hesitated, then took the onigiri with a faint, genuine smile.
"I'm okay. Just… saw something that made me think."
"Think about what?"
"About what happens when someone loses what gives them meaning."
Chisiki looked away. He knew Donyoku had heard something inside that Wandering Soul—something that had touched him.
"Let's make sure that doesn't happen to us," Aika said, more serious than usual.
Donyoku nodded, but his expression didn't change. Inside him, a small spark of fear blended with determination.
That night, Reiji sat in his cabin, writing in a notebook. Beside him, various notes with spiritual diagrams and fragments of illusionary memory floated in the air, guided by his Shinkon.
"Donyoku's aura… has shifted again," he murmured. "The creature that appeared in his vision… wasn't a projection of mine. It was a spontaneous manifestation. As if his own fear had created that monster…"
Reiji looked up. Still floating in the illusion was the deformed figure he had seen during the shift—a silhouette similar to Donyoku, engulfed in dark flames and broken chains.
"He's not an ordinary being. Nor is his soul."
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the village, a figure removed his hood under the shadow of an old windmill. The spy from the Kingdom of Enketsu, Kagenami, gazed at the moon.
"They still don't fully trust me," he whispered. "But I'm getting closer to understanding what kind of power lies within those kids…"
He opened a small notebook and drew the faces of Donyoku, Chisiki… and Reiji.
"Zanka will be pleased."