Chapter 5: Yokai's Curse

Days had passed since I became Sarah's son—just recently, I'd learned her name on that same night. I could still remember how embarrassingly I had asked for it.

"Um... if you don't mind me asking... mom," I cleared my throat, my voice faltering, "what's your name?" The question felt so silly, but my mother just chuckled softly.

"I suppose you wouldn't know that, would you, child?" Her tone was warm, reassuring.

"It's Sarah. Sarah... Dusk," she replied, almost hesitantly.

"Sarah Dusk... Sarah DUSK?!" I exclaimed, my voice higher than I intended.

"As in the Dusk household? The really big, prestigious one?" I couldn't hide the shock in my voice.

She laughed again, the sound light. "Yes, that big one. But I must ask, how do you know about them?" she said, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Considering you're from another world..." Her voice trailed off, implying something more.

I was stunned by the revelation, but what baffled me even more was what came next.

"How I know doesn't matter right now," I stammered, shaking off her question. "What matters is who your parents are," I added, eager to move past the discomfort.

She seemed momentarily hung up on my previous comment but soon gave in. She propped herself into a comfortable position and began answering my question. "My mother is Emily of the Beckerman family," she said, her voice soft but proud. "And my father is... Duke Aaron Dusk. The current head of the Dusk household," she added, her tone steady.

The pieces finally clicked into place, and my mind raced as I tried to absorb the weight of what she had just told me.

Duke Aaron Dusk. The current head of one of the most powerful families on the continent of Astra'lan. To truly understand my shock, you first need to understand The Crucible.

The Crucible is not just a tournament—it is the very system by which power is measured on this continent. A warrior must prove their worth to even be allowed entry. Once your strength is recognized, you join The Crucible, a brutal competition where everyone under its name is vying for your downfall. You are assigned a rank based on your strength, and that rank can only be earned or improved by defeating others.

To rise in rank, you must challenge and defeat opponents of equal or greater power or take down fellow Crucible participants. In the case of victory, you claim their rank as your own. The rankings of The Crucible are the ultimate measure of power—there are no arguments, no debates. The rank you hold defines who you are.

And Duke Aaron Dusk is the eighth rank holder—one of the strongest and most respected warriors on the continent. To put that in perspective, my past life's rank was fifty-seventh. And Lorian... The Protagonist, was the thirty-seventh rank holder.

"You must be shitting me," I blurted out, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

"My grandfather is one of the continent's strongest?"

The weight of the revelation hit me like a runaway cart, knocking the wind from my chest. Duke Aaron Dusk—the name reverberated in my mind like a drumbeat, drowning out everything else. My mother's own bitterness toward him, the very mention of the Dusk legacy, made my skin crawl. How could I be tied to such a man? What kind of future awaited me with blood like that in my veins?

My mother must have noticed the storm of emotions brewing inside me because, without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled me into an embrace.

"Well... your grandfather is a piece of scum," she said, her voice sharp with hostility. I felt her arms tremble slightly as she held me.

"Someone, hopefully, you will never have to meet."

Her words were laced with barely restrained rage, but the trembling told a deeper story. Who was this man that made my mother, strong and kind as she was, shake like this? My chest tightened at the thought. There were so many unanswered questions, but I couldn't ask her now—not when I saw the depth of her pain.

I clenched my fists, my mind spiraling. I didn't care who he was, or what rank he held in the Crucible. Whether he was my grandfather or one of the strongest beings on the continent, I wouldn't forgive anyone who caused my mother this much pain.

"And if you need to use the toilet, you know where the restroom is." My mother's voice broke through my thoughts, as she tended to the dishes. She must've heard my earlier comment.

Days passed, and I found myself at the mercy of a lukewarm cup of tea, sitting on the old, rickety chair just outside the house. My eyes wandered aimlessly over the endless stretch of wild foliage that blanketed the land. The trees towered over the town like ancient guardians, their thick branches weaving together in a canopy that blocked out the sun, creating a patchwork of light and shadow on the ground. The scent of moss and earth was heavy in the air, mixing with the faint rustle of distant wildlife—a reminder that, despite the walls of Bridgeville, the world beyond was untamed and waiting to swallow us whole.

Resting my elbows on my knees, I pressed my hands against my temples, massaging them as I muttered under my breath.

"How does she die... How does she die..." I couldn't recall it, no matter how much I tried to dig into the depths of my memories.

"Ugh, this isn't working," I groaned, leaning back and spreading myself across the creaking chair. The faint gnaw of anxiety was already clawing away at my insides, making me feel queasy.

I swiveled my head to the left, glancing at the rundown estate that loomed nearby—its crumbling façade standing in stark contrast to the surrounding cottages. The once-beautiful stone walls were now chipped and cracked, vines creeping up the sides like tendrils of some ancient beast. There was a strange stillness about the place, as if the estate itself had given up on ever being anything more than a forgotten relic of better days. It was a miracle it hadn't collapsed beneath me yet.

It must've been gifted by Grandfather. That thought sent a shiver down my spine. I'd meant to ask about it, but... I couldn't bring myself to. Mother was hesitant, her eyes always going distant whenever I even remotely mentioned his name. Bringing up Grandfather seemed like the last thing I wanted to do to her. It was like opening a wound that would bleed regret and anger all over the place.

"Why the hell did he even leave this to us?" I muttered to myself, kicking the dirt beneath my feet. The estate didn't look like the kind of place anyone would want to call home. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it was just a way for Grandfather to taunt us.

Just the thought of him made my stomach churn. I could almost feel the weight of his presence looming over us, like a storm about to break. And yet, here I was, sitting in this damn chair, hoping for some kind of answer that wouldn't make me want to run the other way.

"Shit, I need more information," I sighed, rubbing my temples. Maybe the local bar would give me what I needed. I couldn't imagine it getting worse than this. Or could it?

rumble

"Ah, crap... bathroom," I muttered, clutching my stomach and bolting inside. My body had apparently chosen the worst possible time to remind me that I was still human.

Oddly enough, it was in the most undignified of places—the bathroom—that the revelation hit me like a goddamn thunderstrike.

"Yokai... YOKAI!" I shouted, gripping the edge of the sink like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. My heart pounded as memories came rushing back in a flood I couldn't control. "I remember now! How she dies... She dies because of those blasted Yokai!"

Yokai. Those cursed spirits, born from the darkest corners of the world. I'd fought them for years—each encounter leaving its mark on me. I could still remember the hollow sound of their howls, echoing through the woods, their grotesque forms twisting in ways no living thing should. They were powerful, malicious, and relentless. And now... they were the reason my mother would die.

"Yeah... those despicable creatures," I muttered, sinking against the bathroom wall. A flood of memories rushed through me—each encounter with a Yokai, each battle alongside Lorian. Back in the day, I'd been his sidekick, his second-in-command. We'd fought through hundreds of Yokai, some of the strongest bastards I'd ever faced. But none of that mattered now.

None of that mattered for my mother.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall. Remembering Yokai... that wasn't going to bring her back. It wasn't going to save her.

"Shit," I muttered again, staring at the cold tiles in front of me. Maybe I was too late. Maybe there was nothing I could do to change her fate. But I wasn't going to sit around and let it happen without trying.

With a grimace, I wiped my face with my sleeve, standing up straight. I had a lot of work to do—and damn it, I wasn't going to let those cursed spirits take my mother from me. Not if I could help it.