Chapter Twelve

Assassin Nation

Shin-ju knew he had no chance of surviving if he waited for the three young Assassins to attack first. That was the reason behind the Nomad boy's next decision—lunging low at Kyle and throwing a sweeping kick aimed at the young man's ankles.

Before the kick connected, Shin-ju swore he saw a smirk etch itself onto Kyle's face—it was as though the Assassin expected the attack. Kyle shifted his feet and pushed off the ground, leaving Shin-ju staring in disbelief as the Assassin flew backwards in unreal speed, disappearing behind a wall of leaves that flew upwards from the ground in his passing.

As Shin-ju completed the sweep, he instinctively rolled to the side—narrowly avoiding four iron battle darts that pierced the ground a split-second later. He knew that Zeta had Kyle and Arakawa covered from the treetops, supporting her two superiors with pinpoint ranged attacks. Shin-ju jumped to his feet, madly scanning his surroundings for any sign of the three. The leaves that flew from Kyle's break-neck backslide were settling, the wind was picking up, and the rain had started to fall—but the three Assassins had vanished from sight.

Shin-ju had no chance against the three, and decided to run. The chase was on.

•••

The Nomad boy's breathing echoed through the woods as he tore a blind path through the woods, knowing that all hopes of escape lay in running out onto open ground. He knew that the three Assassins were in hot pursuit, and his eyes darted in all directions in anticipation of the imminent attack.

Sure enough, he spotted one of the three before long. Arakawa was running parallel to him, his tall streamlined frame bent forward as his lanky legs propelled him past the shrubbery, all the while keeping an eye on his prey.

Shin-ju observed with rising trepidation Arakawa as skillfully closed the distance between them. As a wall of young trees separated the two, Shin-ju looked over his shoulder—and gasped as Arakawa dove through the shrubbery, a couple of razor-sharp Iron Katars tearing a path towards Shin-ju as the Assassin spiraled through the air towards the Nomad boy.

"Whoa!"Shin-ju yelped, instinctively pitching forward to roll on the ground, narrowly avoiding Arakawa's Katars as the Assassin flew over him.

Shin-ju's eyes widened as he rolled back onto his feet. Instead of likewise rolling on the ground, Arakawa had shoved both his Katars into the ground. The Assassin's body contracted for a moment before springing backwards in powerful recoil, slamming two heavy feet into the stunned Nomad boy's chest.

Shin-ju coughed as he flew backwards, wondering madly how Arakawa learned to pull such an incredible move off. His back slammed onto a tree trunk, and Shin-ju faltered for a moment before opening his eyes to his attacker.

Shin-ju immediately ducked, instinctively avoiding four more battle darts that embedded themselves in the tree trunk. Wherever she was among the treetops, Zeta had found him as well. Shin-ju pushed off the tree trunk and ran again, the two Assassins resuming the chase.

•••

After only a few moments of running, Shin-ju tore through a small clearing among the trees, where the rain fell freely. As Shin-ju looked over his shoulder in an attempt to see where Arakawa and Zeta were, he heard a loud rumbling sound coming from in front of him. His eyes snapped frontward, widening as he watched jagged columns of earth heaving up from the ground in his direction.

Shin-ju instantly leaped to the side to avoid being impaled by the sharp rocks and rolled on the ground. He got back to his feet quickly, eyeing the craggy wall of earth in front of him. At the same moment, another telltale rumbling came—and more columns of serrated rock tore through the ground towards him.

As he tried to evade a third wall of earth, he noticed that they seemed to originate from the same point somewhere hidden in the shrubbery—but just what werethey?

The fourth wall of earth heaved up in front of him, and Shin-ju tried to leap over it. His pant leg caught a sharp piece of rock, and he fell to the ground in a heap on the other side.

Shin-ju got up to one knee, nursing the cut on his leg, when he heard an earthy crash. Glancing over the fourth wall, he saw a cloud of dust and rock rising—then another, and another.

Someone was barreling through the walls of rock, and was heading straight towards him.

Instantly, Shin-ju leaped mightily off the ground, just in time to avoid Arakawa as the Katar-wielding Assassin smashed his way through last jagged wall of rock. Arakawa's momentum carried the Assassin towards a nearby tree, which suffered the finishing blows of his devastating barrage.

Shin-ju lightly climbed to the treetops by leaping between the trunks of two trees, all the while noting the unbelievable power of Arakawa. The tree that stopped the Assassin's rampage began to tip, then fall amidst loud snapping sounds, before crashing loudly onto the forest floor.

•••

The Nomad boy avoided more expected battle darts from Zeta as he leaped from treetop to treetop. He decided that if he were to survive this escape, he'd have to take at least one of his opponents out. When he was fairly sure he momentarily lost his pursuers, Shin-ju ducked among the leaves of a tree and reached into the pockets of his cargo pants.

Shin-ju drew out and unrolled a pair of war gloves that he had bought from a weapon shop days after his first encounter with Assassin Nation in this same forest. They laced up to the elbow pad and had interlocking metal plates over the forearms, which offered the wielder a measure of defense against bladed weapons. Overall, they weren't the best weapons for Shin-ju, and buying them hurt his finances further, but he knew that he had to be prepared in case Kyle and his goons decided to attack him one of these days. As he strapped the gloves on, he thanked all the higher powers in the universe for his wise decision.

Hiding among the leaves, he waited for a moment before he saw Zeta jumping among the treetops towards his direction. The female Assassin seemed to be scanning her surroundings for him. Shin-ju found it distasteful to have to dispatch a girl to escape, but he knew he had no other choice.

As Zeta jumped towards the tree Shin-ju was hiding in, the Nomad boy leaped out from behind the leaves and lunged towards a stunned Zeta, his fist drawn back.

"Sorry!" Shin-ju yelled, before swinging in and slamming a closed fist into Zeta's jaw.

From below, Arakawa heard the sickening crackand looked up in time to see Zeta plunging from the treetops headfirst.

"Zeta!" Arakawa yelled, diverting from his route and dashing to catch the girl's body before it hit the ground.

Shin-ju didn't wait to see if Arakawa managed to catch Zeta. He had the two of them distracted—now he had to make the most of it. Shin-ju ran and kept leaping through the trees.

•••

Kyle's still around, Shin-ju said, scanning the forest floor for Assassin Nation's leader. I gotta be caref—WHOA!

In mid-air, Shin-ju instinctively crossed his forearms in front of his face as he saw eight battle darts flying unerringly in his direction.

Is it Kyle? He was up here all along? Shin-ju thought madly as he gritted his teeth, four of the battle darts bouncing off his war gloves, three nicking him at the legs and side, and one embedding itself into his upper arm. Shin-ju yelped in pain and lost his footing on the next tree. He fell, hitting branches on the way down, and landed heavily on the wet ground.

Shin-ju got up to his knees as quickly as he could, favoring his wounded arm as he looked up at his attacker. To his shock, up on a tree ahead of him, it wasn't Kyle who was coldly looking down at him.

It was Zeta.

"Impossible!"Shin-ju uttered. He had just clocked Zeta and bounded away as fast as he could only moments ago. How did she overtake him so quickly?

These thoughts were quickly pushed aside as he realized Arakawa had caught up to him as well, brandishing his Iron Katars as he charged towards the kneeling Nomad boy.

•••

Shin-ju was drenched by the rain, and he was shivering. Being in this position, kneeling and defiantly staring up at his opponent, reminded him of the very last sparring match he had with his former Master, Mikieru Makimachi.

Mikieru had just landed a heavy palm strike into Shin-ju's midsection that day in the Constabulary HQ courtyard, and was admonishing the young Nomad boy for being so careless. As Shin-ju persisted, however, the Cleric warned the boy against continuing.

"If the weather gets to you tonight, the fever is going to take days to shed," Mikieru had cautioned. "Continuing any further would only do you more harm than good."

Then what the heck am I supposed to do, Senpai? Shin-ju thought angrily. You never didlet me do anything I wanted!

As Arakawa moved in for the kill, his Katars poised to plunge into Shin-ju's shoulders, the boy lowered his head and violently clasped his hands together in a praying gesture.

•••

Suddenly, Arakawa stopped advancing, his arms halted in mid-thrust. Looking down, the stunned Assassin saw Shin-ju in a handstand, his two feet blocking Arakawa's arms. In that split second, Arakawa wondered how Shin-ju had settled into such a creative defensive move in an instant—but came to realize the reason as his eyes met Shin-ju's gray stare.

A bluish-white aura flashed to life around Shin-ju's body.

•••

Instantly, Shin-ju's feet kicked off Arakawa's arms and clipped the tall Assassin's head. With a frenzied roar, Shin-ju somersaulted backwards, flinging Arakawa several meters behind him.

Arakawa crashed to the wet ground and immediately got up to one knee, skidding backwards to a stop. He stared with wide eyes at the Blessing-powered form of Shin-ju, who was now upright and glaring at him hatefully.

Shin-ju set his feet apart to charge at Arakawa, but stopped midway, noticing a presence behind him. The Nomad boy shot a stare over his shoulder—and saw, at a distance among the trees behind him, Kyle Cromwell. Assassin Nation's leader was standing still, watching quietly, his arms crossed at his chest and his almond-brown eyes fixed on the Nomad's own. Even from a distance, Shin-ju could discern a smirk on the young man's face—one that said: "Finally."

Shin-ju turned back to face Arakawa—only to realize that the Assassin had disappeared from his original location. The Nomad's eyes shot to the left and immediately saw Arakawa charging towards him in extraordinary speed, Katars poised to kill.

The Blessing Trance allowed Shin-ju to react just in time. He grasped the battle dart from his shoulder and ripped it from his flesh with a mad grimace. In the same motion, he flung the blade towards Arakawa's face.

Shocked, Arakawa swung his Katars in front of his face to swat the battle dart away—and in the split second that his weapons blocked Shin-ju from view, the Nomad boy had already positioned himself under the Assassin.

Shin-ju yelled loudly as he thrust a hard elbow into Arakawa's midsection. A grunt came from the stunned Assassin's lips as he flew backward, his back hitting a tree trunk. Arakawa opened his eyes immediately as his feet touched the ground, but could not recover in time to counter an incoming closed fist from Shin-ju.

It was all the Assassin could do when he immediately flung his body aside, leaving the tree to suffer Shin-ju's devastating punch. Arakawa got up in time to see the tree tilt—split top to bottom into two halves—left and right, forming a V amidst the falling rain, dust and splinters, with Shin-ju at its vertex.

The disbelieving Assassin stayed rooted to the spot as Shin-ju, breathing heavily and deep in his Blessing Trance, pulled his fist from the jagged edges of the split tree trunk and turned to face him. Shin-ju's gray eyes made the Nomad's glowing form look all the more menacing.

Arakawa decided to take no more chances. Reaching out with his fingers, he pulled two hidden levers on his Katars—and purple venom began seeping onto the blades. He stood up, returned Shin-ju's gaze, and shifted to an attacking stance.

Lightning flashed across the darkening sky. Shin-ju mirrored Arakawa's stance, only to cringe at the pain in his wounds. Looking down, he realized his mana was draining more rapidly than it usually was. Shin-ju at once realized what Mikieru had meant that day on the HQ courtyard—if he entered the Blessing Trance in unfavorable environmental conditions, his spiritual energy would be depleted much more quickly, and leave him more susceptible to sickness and, if his mana was left to drain completely, death.

I can't keep this up, Shin-ju thought angrily. I have to escape now!

Arakawa charged, swinging his poison-tipped Katars in a manner that would leave Shin-ju no opening to counter. Shin-ju's glowing aura allowed him to mask his summoning, under one of his palms, a pearl-shaped ball of mana.

Shin-ju ducked, as though preparing to jump, then vanished from Arakawa's sight just as the Assassin swung his Katars in. Instinctively, Arakawa swung his Katars acrobatically to counter any reprisal from any direction, but Shin-ju was nowhere in sight.

"He is in the trees! Do not let him escape!" Zeta's voice rang from above him, causing Arakawa to look up. His female subordinate was bounding from treetop to treetop, following the glowing form of Shin-ju as he tried to escape from the three.

Shin-ju had used his special instant speed skill, which he had begun to callSnap, to escape into the trees.

Arakawa made a move to resume chase, but was distracted by a presence approaching rapidly from behind him. He turned to see what it was, only to miss it as it passed him by, uttering into his ear:

"Pathetic."

Arakawa did not move, even as Kyle bounded swiftly into the woods in pursuit of Shin-ju. Left behind, the Assassin stood motionless, the results of his one-on-one showdown with the Nomad boy sinking in. He turned his head to the side, eyeing the tree that suffered Shin-ju's punch. As a flash of lightning silhouetted the V for a moment, Arakawa's grip tightened around his Katars. He let out a prolonged growl, cursing, before setting out to follow his two teammates.

Don't you dare, Cromwell, Arakawa thought viciously as he charged among the trees, his venomous Katars trailing behind his tall, lanky frame.Shin-ju Yang is MINE to kill!

•••

Leaping from tree to tree over the next several moments, Shin-ju protected himself from Zeta's battle darts, which—to the Nomad boy's continuing disbelief—seemed to come from different directions. The sky had gone dark, but occasional flashes of lightning betrayed Zeta's locations to Shin-ju. But it seemed that when Shin-ju was sure Zeta was tailing him from the left at one moment, he'd find her tailing him from the right at the next. Shin-ju had little trouble blocking and evading her battle darts, but with his energy quickly draining, he was finding it more and more difficult to anticipate the female Assassin's next attacks.

Suddenly, the darts stopped flying in. Shin-ju madly looked in all directions, looking for any sign of Zeta. There was none. Looking ahead, he could see the last few trees in the forest framing the open. Past the clearing lay the football fields—and freedom.

However, Shin-ju's relief soon turned to gripping tension. As he was about to step onto the last tree, he saw, beyond the branches, Kyle Cromwell. Assassin Nation's leader was standing in the middle of the clearing in the pose the Nomad boy had seen many times before—arms crossed at the chest, fiery eyes fixed on his, a faint smirk on the edges of his lips.

The next crash of thunder mirrored Shin-ju's anger as he stomped on the last tree branch. His eyes never leaving Kyle's, he pushed off mightily against the tree and hurtled against Assassin Nation's leader. The tree bent backwards in recoil to Shin-ju's powerful launch.

As Shin-ju instantly closed the distance between them, he thrust his leg out in a flying kick aimed at Kyle's chest. As his foot thrust in, Kyle nonchalantly shifted one leg forward and—to Shin-ju's shock and awe—caught his foot with one hand, stopping him in mid-air.

An audible sound of amusement escaped Kyle's lips as he extended his arm forward, throwing Shin-ju a distance away from him. The Nomad landed on his feet, breathing heavily and staring at the Assassin with wide-open gray eyes. Shin-ju knew that he was running out of energy, and that his Blessing Trance was not at its most powerful, but he was sure that he exerted maximum force into that kick. That Kyle had managed to block it almost without effort confounded him to no end.

Shin-ju spat angrily. He judged that he had enough spiritual energy left in him for one more battle, and decided to engage the leader of Assassin Nation in decisive one-on-one combat. Gritting his teeth, the Nomad boy shifted into an attacking stance and summoned another sphere of mana under his palm.

Just like how I defeated Garrione, Shin-ju thought to himself. In another moment, he had snapped in front of Kyle, his fist inches from the Assassin's jaw.

It hit nothing but air.

Shin-ju grunted as Kyle buried a rising punch into his midsection, the force of which lifted the Nomad boy's feet off the ground. Shin-ju had no time to contemplate how Kyle managed to evade his attack, as the Assassin had immediately planted one hand on the ground and rendered three acrobatic, lightning-fast rising kicks into the Nomad boy's battered body.

How?Shin-ju thought feebly as Kyle's kicks launched him into the air. How did he see through Snap?

While Shin-ju was in mid-air, Kyle crouched, skillfully drew his dual Assassin Daggers, and lunged for the kill.

•••

Two sharp peals of metal meeting metal reverberated over the clearing.

Kyle somersaulted backwards, away from Shin-ju's rising form. He landed on his feet and raised his Assassin Daggers in defense, his disapproving eyes fixed on what had repelled his deathblows. Kyle saw the meddler spin in mid-air, cushioning Shin-ju's fall with his leg as they both touched the ground.

The Nomad boy was unconscious, his Blessing aura fading into nothingness. Then the newcomer rose, straddling Shin-ju's limp form, and raised the weapons he had used to repel the young Assassin's attacks.

Two thirty inch-long metal sticks.

Kyle rose to his feet, twirling his daggers in his hands. He had no idea how this Kali practitioner had found them, or why he had chosen to aid the Nomad boy. Nevertheless, his mission wasn't finished. He would cut down anyone who stood between him and Shin-ju Yang.

Before he attacked, Kyle glanced at the forms of Arakawa and Zeta. His subordinates had caught up to them, and now had the young Kali surrounded. Twirling both Assassin Daggers into an underhand grip, Kyle shot to the side and dashed towards the newcomer at an angle, signaling the attack.

Arakawa sprinted towards the Kali, venomous Katars poised to kill, and Zeta released a slew of battle darts from the treetops.

What happened in the following moments stunned Assassin Nation, and even caused Kyle to raise an eyebrow in perplexity. The young Kali dodged, parried, and spun his metal sticks in perfect defensive circles while his feet stepped unerringly on a set of equilateral triangles centered on Shin-ju's form. As Kyle and Arakawa back-slid away from the Kali, they watched in disbelief as he successfully deflected the last of Zeta's battle darts with his metal sticks and ended in a defensive pose, still straddling Shin-ju's body. After Assassin Nation's combined attack, neither he nor Shin-ju Yang was harmed.

This was something Kyle hadn't counted on. His Master, Balthesar Yeary, had told him everything to expect from Shin-ju Yang's fighting style, but he had been told nothing about the White Nomad fighting art of Kali. From what Kyle had observed from the exchange, it seemed to be in essence the antithesis of the Shadow Arts—where the Black Nomad fighting art emphasized on ruthless attack, Kali was deeply rooted in unyielding defense.

As Kyle and Arakawa circled the young Kali, they noticed whistles from the distance. Looking over his shoulder, Kyle saw a group of uniformed youths heading towards their position.

Academy Prefects, Kyle thought with irritation. They must have heard the commotion.

Kyle shot the young Kali a poisonous look before sheathing his weapons, indicating the end of the battle—for now. Immediately, Arakawa withdrew his Katars into his long sleeves and bounded into the forest. Similarly, Zeta leaped into the treetops, away from the battle site.

The young Kali watched as Kyle clasped his hands together, with the index and middle fingers of both hands raised. His eyes narrowed as strong winds began converging into Kyle's position, lifting wet leaves off the ground and forming a miniature whirlwind around the young Assassin. As soon as the cyclone blocked Kyle from view, the winds died down—and suddenly Kyle was nowhere to be seen amidst the falling leaves.

The Kali's eyes moved between the forest behind him, Shin-ju's body under him, and the patrol of Academy Prefects moving towards the clearing. It took him only a moment to ponder the choice.

When the Training Grounds security force arrived at the scene, all they found were footsteps, skid marks, and battle darts strewn over the ground—but there was no sign of anyone else in the clearing.

•••

Shin-ju could barely move when he woke up nearly three hours later. His head throbbed with pain, and he ached all over. The dryness in his throat and the heat he felt in his eyes indicated he was suffering from a burning fever, which was slightly mitigated by a cold compress placed on his forehead.

A compress?

Shivering, Shin-ju opened his eyes. He seemed to be lying on the ground under a rock overhang, protected from the cold rain. A small fire burned to his side, providing little warmth and illumination in the crude sanctuary. With the faint light, Shin-ju recognized the form of the young man sitting on the other side of the fire, watching the rainfall.

"…Teabo Sheppard," Shin-ju croaked, surprised.

The young Kali looked over his shoulder, noticing that Shin-ju had woken up. "Mm," he answered, turning back to the rain. "It seems my old Master still remembers me. Sean Garner is a good fighter and teacher, albeit an immature one. I doubt he has ever fought a real battle before."

Shin-ju surveyed his surroundings weakly. "What happened?" he asked. "Where… are we?"

"Away from the battlegrounds," Teabo replied. "Don't worry. You're safe now."

With a shock, Shin-ju remembered—he had been running from Assassin Nation only previously. Bandages now covered his wounds, apparently applied by his rescuer. He stared at Teabo as the young Kali continued his explanation.

"You're lucky I came across you when I did. I often spend nights out in these woods, training and conditioning myself for the Tournament and Chivalry life. It wasn't hard to miss your Blessing aura jumping over the trees. Then I saw those three running after you. I knew something was up."

Shin-ju nodded, wildly wondering how his luck suddenly turned for the better at the last possible moment.

"You knew who those three were?" Shin-ju whispered.

"I hear things," Teabo answered. "Balthesar Yeary… the Shadow Arts scholastic. Wrongly accused of raiding friendly villages during the Dune Wars and stripped of his rank and Knighthood. A few years after the end of the Dune Wars, he began meeting the families of his fellow fallen Knights. He has since been very helpful in sustaining the families stripped of Chivalry-sanctioned financial support, especially of those who were killed in action."

Shin-ju saw Teabo bow his head as he went on.

"My oldest brother, Garrione, was one of those Knights. Surely you know of the Al de Baran uprising two years ago. Knowing who killed my brother put me on this road."

Shin-ju swallowed as he heard this.

After a moment's silence, he decided to venture.

"You… know… who killed your brother?" Shin-ju asked warily.

"Yes!"Teabo yelled, slamming a closed fist into the rock.

Shin-ju held his breath as Teabo gave his answer.

"PAYON!"

The Nomad boy exhaled heartily. For a moment, he thought Teabo knew about what had really happened in Al de Baran two years ago, but the young man's ensuing explanation showed otherwise.

"Historians say the Payon Shousa, Akira Yamakuno, uncovered a plot by the Taishou to use Garrione in conquering the defenseless Machine City. In that battle, they managed to kill both the Taishou and my brother and put an end to the uprising. History will forever laud Akira Yamakuno as the man who went against the wishes of the Payon Shogunate, put an end to the evil schemes of his superior, and saved the entirety of Al de Baran."

Teabo turned to Shin-ju with furious, narrowed eyes.

"But you know what I think?" the Kali continued. "I think the whole thing is a cover-up."

Shin-ju swallowed again before deciding to ask. "Why?"

"Think about it, Shin-ju Yang," Teabo explained. "Neither Prontera nor Payon would have mobilized to fight in the Dune Wars if the Clerics hadn't done so first. When the genocide began in the Desert eight years ago, the Church was the first to sound the call to arms. Naturally, neither of the two Kingdoms would want to be upstaged by the Clerics, so they joined the war effort—but not without a fair amount of reluctance.

"I don't think either Prontera or Payon had any interest in saving White Nomads from the Morroc war machine. But the people would forever look upon them with mistrust if the Church did and they didn't. As the Dune Wars entered its third year, both Kingdoms were rapidly running out of funds for the war effort, and while they were making significant advances in both the Morroc and Antioc fronts, their coffers would dry up very soon. What was the solution that those fat, money-grubbing bastards came up with?

"An early, forced stalemate.

"By ordering those faulty raids on friendly villages, they would have achieved the reasons to halt the war effort, disenfranchise the victim Knights, and force a stalemate with the Morroc leaders. Heartless bastards, they did all of those, leaving the Clerics to fend for themselves so far from home.

"That's what I believe, Shin-ju Yang. I believe those bastards stopped the war effort in order to get back to lining their pockets with gold."

Shin-ju nodded, somehow finding validity in Teabo's explanations. "But… where does Payon fit into this?" the Nomad boy asked.

"Here's how," Teabo snapped. "I'm sure you've heard of how my brother extracted revenge on his Majors by raiding the Chivalry Desert HQ and stealing various secret documents there. I believe those documents convinced Garrione that all those faulty raids were staged and sanctioned by the higher-ups, and that he and his fellows were wrongly accused and dishonored. However, he had to wait for the right time and place to establish his power and credibility. He needed such if he wanted to stand up successfully against Prontera. How did he plan to do this? By conquering the defenseless city of Al de Baran.

"Why Al de Baran, you might ask. The reason is simple. Money is only one of two corrupting forces driving the Kingdom these days. What is the second?

"Power.

"Al de Baran is a free city, independent from the rule of Prontera and outside the influence of the Schwartzvald republic. Despite its neutrality, it is home to the most abundant reserves of coal in all of Rune. Coal is the necessary catalyst in forging weapons, armor, siege machines… all that ministers to Prontera's craving for power. The Kingdom would not have been attempting to extend its sovereignty over Al de Baran for several decades if it weren't for this fact.

"Converting Al de Baran into his stronghold may have given my brother the leverage he needed to expose the Kingdom's crimes. But he could not have done it without the aid of Payon.

"I believe the Taishou tricked Garrione into taking control of Al de Baran only long enough for the Shousa's forces to come in and destroy all of them. That way, my brother would be silenced forever and all remaining doubts about the Kingdoms' reputation would be quashed."

A moment passed without a word being said between the two.

"So…" Shin-ju ventured again. "…why do you think the Shousa killed the Taishou, too?"

Teabo sniffed loudly. "Loose end," he answered. "I believe the Taishou was tricked by whoever's pulling the strings in this farce. No matter… It's over. He is dead. My brother is dead. And the Shousa will be lauded as a hero for the rest of history… if I don't do anything."

Shin-ju's lips parted in growing attention to Teabo's vindications.

"Ever since my brother was killed, I've abandoned all forms of swordfighting styles. I've embraced, in its stead, the only fighting art that has not been tarnished by injustice or misuse in all of its history."

"The Kali," Shin-ju offered.

"Yes. It's my way of defying the supremacy of the Kingdoms. One of these days I will develop the Kali into the greatest fighting art in all of Midgard—a testament to the justice that my brother lived and died by. I swear by my dead brother, Garrione—his story and the stories of all the Kingdom's victims will not go untold."

Shin-ju nodded weakly, taking in the young Kali's noble exposition. The Nomad boy returned his gaze to the ceiling of rock over his face, wondering whether or not to tell Teabo the truth about what really happened that day in Al de Baran.

"By now I'm sure you're gathering as to why I saved you," Teabo stated, pushing a dry twig into the fire.

Shin-ju closed his eyes as Teabo continued.

"Balthesar Yeary and his apprentices claim to stand for justice as well, but they advocate a fighting art that started this entire mess. For a time in my life, I even pondered whether to join Assassin Nation. But now I've realized—sticking to Kali and its true sense of justice is the only way I can ever live with myself. And you, Shin-ju Yang… you, who owe loyalty to nothing but the blood in your veins… you, who have witnessed first-hand all the Kingdoms' injustices…"

Teabo glanced at Shin-ju's form lying across the fire.

"…You are my only possible ally in this war."

•••

Ayame walked down the empty hall towards the Literature Clubroom the following morning, her head still hidden by the hood of her long gray jacket. As she passed by a bulletin board, she stopped as a new bulletin caught her eye. She spent the next few moments fixedly scanning the words on the large piece of paper that she didn't notice a presence walk up behind her.

She jumped, startled, as a gloved hand shot past her head and slammed its palm on the bulletin board's glass cover. She turned around, her hood falling off her head, and stared up into the almond-brown stare of Kyle Cromwell.

"Kyle," she uttered fearfully, her eyes very wide. He had found her.

Kyle was wearing a sleeveless shirt and tight pants of black leather. Chains hung from his belt and black gloves, and his eyes were partially masked by a pair of frameless dark glasses. He stared down at Ayame with a grin on his face.

"Where've you been, Yami?" he asked coolly. "It's been a while."

Mustering her courage, she narrowed her vision at him. "Not long enough," she said, trying to get away from him, only to be stopped by his other arm. She was trapped.

"Hey, now. What's with that attitude?" Kyle continued. "It's like you aren't even happy to see me."

Ayame pressed her back against the bulletin board, trying to keep as wide a distance between her face and his. "You sure don't miss a thing, don't you, Kyle," she deadpanned defiantly.

"C'mon," he said, grinning. "I just wanna talk."

"What's there to talk about, Kyle?" Ayame shot back, forcing a sarcastic smile. "Are you pissed at how I'm getting along fine without you? Are you gonna gloat at how well you're doing with this new hobby of yours? Whatever it is, you're an errand boy, Kyle. If your boss has something for me, then be quick about it."

Kyle grinned again. Slowly, he curled his gloved right hand into a fist, its knuckles still touching the bulletin board's glass cover. Suddenly, he flicked out his middle finger—and smashed the glass cover into several jagged pieces. Ayame squealed and covered her face with her hands, shards of glass falling to the floor at her feet.

"Let me make one thing clear, Yami," Kyle warned, the smile gone from his face. "I don't mind you not respecting me, but you will respect my Master."

Ayame began crying, her face still buried in her hands.

"Oh, what's the matter, baby?" Kyle taunted, trying to peek through her fingers. "Is something wrong? What does baby want?"

The girl opened one teary eye, peeking between two fingers—and saw, behind Kyle, someone she had been wanting to see ever since Kyle found her only moments before.

"Shin-ju!" she screamed.

Immediately, Ayame used all her strength to bat one of Kyle's arms away and run towards Shin-ju. She buried her face in his chest as soon as she closed the distance between them.

Shin-ju was limping. His wounds stung, his head throbbed, his stomach churned—it seemed to the Nomad boy that every one of his bodily functions rebelled against his choice to be on his feet today. Yet here he was, staring at Kyle with intense gray eyes, one arm hanging weakly at his side, the other wrapped around Ayame's shoulders.

Ayame withdrew her face from Shin-ju's chest and gave him a good look. The Nomad boy looked horrible—starkly different from how he looked after he had dropped her off at her dormitory only one day before.

"Well, look who's here," Kyle said, staring at Shin-ju's reflection on what was left of the bulletin board's glass cover. "It's Romeo."

Furious, Ayame faced the back of Kyle. "What did you do to him?" she lashed.

"Nothing. I just made a few things clear yesterday," Kyle mocked, turning to face the two. "But I guess the two of you would be great together, after all. Both of you arefucking unreasonable."

"He doesn't want to join you!" Ayame screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He doesn't want anything to do with you!"

"Really?" Kyle said loudly. "He refuses redemption after all he's done?"

"Shin-ju's done nothing wrong! He's—"

Ayame stopped when she felt Shin-ju squeeze her arm. The girl looked up at the Nomad boy as he removed his arm from her shoulders, moved a few steps forward, then stared up at Kyle.

Shin-ju was in no condition to fight. His body was battered, and he was sick. He had no spiritual energy to channel. Yet he stood in front of Kyle, who was undoubtedly the most powerful opponent he had ever faced, and said what he had to say.

"Move… or die."

Through his dark glasses, Kyle sneered at the Nomad boy—he stopped short of laughing out loud. Deciding he had had enough fun with him the previous night, Kyle stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged his trim shoulders.

"Fine by me," Kyle answered in satisfaction, walking away from the two of them. "After all, what kind of idiot would wanna die before the Tournament, eh, Shin-ju?"

Shin-ju's eyes followed Kyle as the Assassin walked down the hall, rounding a corner at the far end and disappearing. Ayame walked over to his side soon after that, wrapping her arms around his waist. Together, they looked up at the new bulletin that she had been looking at before Kyle arrived.

•••

TOURNAMENT OF YOUNG CHAMPIONS QUALIFIERS

Elimination Rounds

August 4 & 7, 1396

Group A - Wednesday, August 4, 1396

Fight 1: Liam McIntyre Cavalry v. Craig Saunders Chivalry

Fight 2: Walter Rice Chivalry v. Arakawa Shadow Arts

Fight 3: Teabo Sheppard Kali v. Jordan McNabb Cavalry

Fight 4: Kyle Cromwell Shadow Arts v. Raynor Lymm Komichi

Group B - Saturday, August 7, 1396

Fight 1: Zeta Spires Shadow Arts v. Philip Estevez Chivalry

Fight 2: Tristan Jones Cavalry v. J.C. Lamb Komichi

Fight 3: Lee Metzger Chivalry v. Shin-ju Yang Holy Arts

Fight 4: Marshall Rockmore Cavalry v. Theo Sitler Chivalry

•••

End of Chapter Twelve