The path narrowed as it wound toward the village, tall grass brushing against Tomora's legs with every step. The air felt wrong—too tense, too still. Tala noticed it too. Her fingers twitched at her side, eyes scanning the tree line as if expecting the forest itself to lunge at them.
Then the silence shattered.
A scream tore through the air, sharp and raw, followed by another. Smoke rose above the rooftops ahead, curling into the sky like a warning.
Tomora broke into a run.
The village was chaos.
Huts burned, thatched roofs collapsing inward as flames devoured them. Children cried, clinging to their mothers. Men shouted, some wielding farm tools, others already bleeding on the ground. Raiders stormed through the narrow streets, armored boots crushing fallen baskets and spilled grain, laughter mixing with the crackle of fire.
"Help us!" someone screamed.
Tala didn't hesitate. She sprinted forward, her voice cutting through the noise.
"Tomora! Help them!"
He stopped.
His feet rooted themselves to the dirt as if the ground had swallowed them whole. His chest tightened, breath catching painfully in his throat.
His eyes locked onto a single man.
The man was running—stumbling, really—arms flailing as he pushed past burning debris. His face was twisted with terror, mouth open in a silent plea. He wasn't looking for glory. He wasn't fighting. He was running because he wanted to live.
Behind him, a raider lifted his sword.
The blade arced through the air.
Blood sprayed.
The man crumpled mid-step, collapsing face-first into the dirt. His body twitched once. Then nothing.
The world seemed to mute itself.
Tomora's stomach lurched. His fingers dug into his palms as if he could anchor himself to reality through pain alone.
"I can't…" His voice barely made it past his lips. "I can't help them."
His vision blurred. The burning village warped, memories bleeding into the present.
He saw himself running once. A forest. Rain. Heavy breaths behind him.
"He ran from death…" Tomora whispered. "He didn't want to leave this world."
His knees felt weak.
A sharp sting snapped his head sideways.
Tala's hand dropped from his face, fingers still trembling from the force of the slap.
"C'mon!" she shouted. Her eyes burned, not with cruelty this time—but desperation. "Stop pitying and fight!"
Tomora stared at her, shock rippling through him. Her jaw was clenched, lips tight, fear flickering just beneath her anger.
Fight.
The word echoed.
He closed his eyes.
Patricia's voice surfaced—not loud, not commanding. Just steady.
Live, Tomora.
He inhaled.
The air burned his lungs as something inside him shifted. A faint crackle brushed against his skin, hairs rising along his arms.
"…Okay," he said, voice trembling but firming as he opened his eyes. "I'll try."
The yellow spark ignited.
Tomora moved.
Not with thought—but instinct.
His body surged forward, lightning snapping at his heels. The ground blurred beneath him as he weaved between falling arrows, the air screaming as bolts skimmed past his shoulders. A raider turned, barely registering the flash of light before electricity slammed into his chest, sending him crashing backward into a wall.
Another lunged. Tomora ducked low, sliding beneath a swinging axe. His hand flicked out.
Thunder answered.
The raider convulsed and dropped.
Time fractured.
The village became streaks of motion—steel, fire, fear—while Tomora became the storm threading through it all. Lightning leapt from his hands in sharp bursts, never lingering, never pausing. Each strike was precise, almost desperate, as if he were racing something invisible.
His heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
Twenty-three seconds.
That was all it took.
The last raider collapsed, armor clattering as his body hit the dirt. Smoke drifted through the ruined street. The screams faded, replaced by stunned silence and the crackle of dying flames.
Tomora stood alone.
His breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat soaked through his clothes, his limbs trembling violently. The yellow glow in his eyes flickered—unstable, strained.
Pain surged.
It slammed into his skull like a hammer, splitting his thoughts apart. He staggered, clutching his head as purple shadows twisted beneath the yellow light.
"Aaahhh!" His scream tore free as his knees gave out.
He hit the ground hard, vision fracturing into shards of light and memory.
Darkness swallowed him.
Tala reached him just as his body went still.
She dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly before gripping his shoulders.
"Tomora…?" Her voice wavered. "Hey—don't you dare die."
His face was pale, sweat-slicked, jaw clenched as if still fighting something inside his dreams.
Around them, villagers slowly emerged from hiding. Some stared in awe. Others in fear. None spoke.
Tala didn't look at them.
Her eyes never left Tomora's face.
For the first time, she understood.
Not his power.
But the cost.