The Voice

Raizen wandered onto the training ground, shirt damp from the jog over. The air had that dusty, rusty smell, sun dipping low, throwing shadows across the dirt.

His head was still buzzing from earlier—Tabitha and that damn vase. Her voice stuck with him, all sharp and annoying: "Didn't know you were that clumsy." He flexed his hands, trying to shake it off. Whatever. Same old crap.

Place was dead quiet, no other trainees around. He'd rolled in late again—servants and their bullshit always slowing him down.

And there was Horden, kicked back against a post, grinning like he owned the world. Big dude, all muscle, greasy hair hanging in his face, scar cutting down his cheek. Didn't teach worth a damn—just swung hard, talked trash, and smashed anyone who couldn't keep up. Raizen? Top of that list.

"Hey, look who decided to show," Horden said, voice gravelly, kicking off the post. He slung his practice sword over his shoulder, strolling over. "Thought maybe you were napping in that big house. Servants braid your hair too long?"

Raizen stared at the ground, brushing blood off his lip—he'd bit it tripping earlier. "Just spar me, man," he muttered, snagging a sword from the rack. Hands felt steady, but his chest was all knotted up. Hated this guy. Hated how every move here made him feel small.

Horden let out a big, dumb snort. "Spar? Alright, kid. Let's see if you can stay on your feet today." He didn't even square up—just barreled in, swinging wild like always. Raizen got his blade up, but it didn't matter. Horden's hit smashed through, sent Raizen's sword spinning into the dirt. He stumbled back, sucking air through his teeth.

"Gods, that's sad," Horden said, pacing around him slow. "Marquess's kid flopping around? Oh—right, you're the spare, huh?" He laughed, low and rough, kicking at a rock.

"Shut up," Raizen mumbled, half under his breath. He bent down, grabbed his sword—dusty now, great. Before he could straighten, Horden came at him again. This time, the flat of the blade cracked against his temple. Sounded wet, loud in his ears. Hurt like hell too—blood trickled down his face, warm from a cut above his eye. He dropped, knees hitting dirt, tasting metal.

Horden stepped back, wiping his sword on his pants all casual. "Whoops. Hit you a bit hard there. You good down there, kid?" He chuckled, leaning on his sword like it was a cane. "Tough little guy, huh."

Raizen didn't say anything. Head was spinning, dirt cool under his hands. Blood dripped off his chin, staining the ground. He just sat there, breathing slow, staring at it. Same old story—useless, every damn time. Like back at the house, servants sneering, his father not even looking up.

Then this voice slid in—quiet, weird, not his. "You're weak. Kinda pitiful, huh? Lemme take over." It was soft, like a whisper at first, then sharper, curling in his skull. Cold as hell.

"W-what's that?" Raizen muttered, barely audible. Horden didn't catch it—just kept pacing, laughing to himself.

"Bleeding all over my dirt," Horden said, shaking his head. "Should drag you back to that maid—Tabitha, right? She'd get a kick outta this mess." He grinned, teeth yellow, leaning in a little.

Raizen's eyes blurred—not from blood, though. Something heavy settled in him, dark. He looked up, slow-like, golden eyes glinting in the last light. Horden's laugh cut off, his face twisting. "Hey… what's up with you?" he said, voice dropping. "You lookin' funny."

Raizen got up, shaky at first, then steady. But it wasn't him standing there. His silver hair went dull, ashen, falling messy over his face. Eyes shifted—gold to red, deep and wrong. His mouth twitched, almost a smile, creepy as hell. Hands shimmered—some slick, tar-like stuff seeping out, coating his fingers. Took maybe seven seconds, tops. Inside, Raizen was yelling, trapped, watching his own body like a stranger.

"Leave this world," it said—low, calm, like it didn't care. Then it moved—fast, a blur. Horden yelped, threw his sword up. Raizen's hand hit it—sword turned to dust, just poof, gone, drifting off.

Horden stumbled back, eyes huge. "What the hell—" He fumbled at his belt, pulled a dagger, jammed it into Raizen's side quick. Blood soaked out, but it didn't even twitch. Horden froze—then gasped. Raizen's hand, sharp with that fuel stuff, punched through his gut, right under the ribs.

"S-stop it," Horden choked, blood dripping from his mouth. Dagger fell, hands grabbing at Raizen's arm all sloppy. "Please… didn't mean… spare me, man."

It tilted Raizen's head, red eyes blank. "No," it said, quiet. Then: "Burn." That fuel lit up—bluish-purple flames sparking from the wound. Spread fast—up his chest, his face. Horden screamed, loud, messy, thrashing around. Fire burned inside out, blackening him up. It slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting the sound. Horden jerked a bit, then went still—crumbled slow into ash, blowing away soft in the wind.

Raizen came back—legs gave out, plopped him down hard. Hands shook, that slick stuff fading off. Blood oozed from his side, warm, but he didn't care. Stared at the ash, little wisps curling up. "Did… did I…" he whispered, voice cracking. Tears hit then—hot, messy, rolling down his face. "Did I kill him?"

He grabbed his hair, pulling a little, breathing all shaky. "What am I?" he said, quiet, choking on it. Tears mixed with blood, dripping onto his shirt. Scared—real scared, like a kid lost.

That voice came back, smooth, mean. "Monster."

Raizen went still, breath catching. Looked at his hands—clean now, but felt dirty. Ground was quiet, just ash rustling around. Horden was gone, just like that. He sat there, bleeding, tears slowing, that word bouncing in his head. Didn't move, just stared at nothing.