Disclaimer: Don't own any of the healing items/ summons/ jobs, those are Squaresofts. This is non-profit fun.

I'll break the chains, I'm out of line
I'm living on my nerve, last days of ninety-nine
Nightmare, conspiracy, depression and lunacy
I need to feel, walled up inside
Locked up, messed up, maybe there is no tomorrow
All this thinking does me no good
I'll miss you my love, but it's about time
That this world goes up in flames...

~ Starsign, Apoptygma Bezerk

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His red eyes stayed glued to the wall across the room with his large irises never quivering. Only sucking in a sharp breath through his nostrils when the old man's steel-clawed pinky-ring sliced lightly into the delicate skin of the bottom lid of his right eye. Immediately, a thin stream of blood slid down his cheek, splintering off into different paths, some of which connected while others did not.

"Don't flinch" Ramuh scolded behind his agizlik, picking up the end of one of the many tubes in his metallic ball; delicately he went down inch by inch burning the fresh blood into Ashen's skin, "There have been many who've received markings far more painful then this one."

Ashen didn't respond, but he understood. Instead, he gripped the edge of the table he sat on, wrenching the wood with his strong hands. The old man finished by putting the tube back in place. The young summoner remained stone faced even as the older wiped the excess blood from his tender cheek.

Then the old man scooted back to look over his work, a smile spread under his wispy mustache, "There, you look more like a summoner now."

He dusted off a little hand-held mirror and handed it to Ashen. Ashen looked at his own reflection in the dusty surface, turning his head a bit to the side to examine the new marking on his face. It was like a red streak of lightening from his eye crackling off down his cheek and stopping at his jaw line. Thoughtfully he touched it, it felt sore but other then that it was like he had been born with it, barely even a mark to indicate it was burnt in.

"It is called Ketsurui; tears of blood." The old man informed the young man, "It is a marking of one's own blood as an oath to avenge the fallen."

Ashen put down the mirror, "And this will connect me to my summons, you said. How come I can't feel them?"

"Great Helpers," He corrected, mumbling gruffly about young ones these days', "Because that much activity would kill you."

"What?" A look of puzzlement hardened the young man's features.

" You will find many things have changed. For one, you are not a vessel, nor are you in control over the Great Helpers. You are equals, forced to work together for a common goal. If they don't like what you will, they will not come when called. Likewise, you do not have to respond to their will." The old man coughed to distract attention as he spoke in a low manner, "And another thingyou are not dealing with the five that you are familiar with. They all want revenge."

"They all?" Ashen raised an eyebrow curiously.

"All the Great Helpers want revenge. Every single last one, they all need you and you need them all. This why you do not feel the connection, because so much activity would indeed kill you." Ramuh sighed, "There is more, but I do not know of all that might happen as a result of the Ketsurui. It was a rare marking and has never been used in a situation of this magnitude."

"Greatthanks for telling me this now." Ashen said dryly as he hopped off the table.

The young man went to grab his jacket, but the old man's voice caught in his ear. "Ashen," The young man turned when he heard his name uttered for the first time from the old man. A kindly look seemed to settle in his old features, "Thank youyou are doing a good thing by avenging our people."

He nonchalantly slipped on his jacket, "I'm not doing it for themI'm doing it for her."

No, my boy, you are doing this for yourselfbut you don't see that. The old man shook his head and took a drag on his nargile. He followed the lad out of the cave and into the sun. The young man squinted; it had been nearly five days since he had seen the sky.

"Ghri is far north from here." The old man looked up at the young man.

"HehFunny, I was just told to go west." Ashen's eyes fell on the old man, "They want to go on a little hunting trip."

Ramuh nodded, "The choice is yours of course." He set the agizlik in his lap and held out his gnarled hand for the young man, which Ashen looked at quizzically before taking. There was a light shake on both ends; "You are no longer Oni, you are a man and a summoner, as I see it. For this, my spirit goes with you in your task. So don't make me wrong by dying foolishly, understood?"

Ashen smirked, "Good bye old man"

With that, the handshake ended and the young man turned away, heading down the dusty path towards a thicket of trees. A blur of something spinning about his ankles appeared and in a blink of an eye he disappeared, a whirl of green and fire shot up into the sky. The wind blew through the evergreens about the cave and Ramuh was alone.

"Aliya" He sighed, "You were right about him."

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AN: Okay well sorry this chapter's late. Haven't got much to say. Felt like putting another APB song cause I love em. Ketsurui actually does mean tears of blood or at least bitter tears. No the tattoo is NOT a Harry Potter like thing and I'll have Ashen kill you if you think it. This chapter was both shorter and more information-y then I wanted it to be. Aliya is an important person in the prelude to this story, which I will probably do cause I mentioned the name. Thanks for reading, and hopefully reviewing. If not, cool. Come back next week!