Chapter 8 – The Crimson Festival Begins
"Pain sharpens the blade. Grief gives it a reason to be drawn."
The Festival of Crimson Ash was meant to celebrate the liberation of Serenthia centuries ago—a city once enslaved by a tyrant king whose final breath burned into the soil and stained the skies red for a full day. Now, every year, Serenthia rejoiced in that bloodied history with masked dances, duels, and a silent prayer whispered by every child born under its sky:
"May we never forget the fire."
To Zayne, it felt less like a celebration and more like a warning.
---
Dressed in Shadows
Zayne walked through the streets with his hood up and scarf drawn high, blending in with the masked celebrants. His mind was a tangle of recent revelations: his mother's warning, the melody from his dream, and the voice that had whispered through the fragment.
His instincts were screaming.
Each parade float passed like a coffin. Each masked dancer moved like an assassin.
His grip tightened on the blade at his hip.
Something is coming.
And it came.
---
Scene: Central Plaza, Serenthia – Nightfall
The plaza was packed with revelers, music, and floating ash lanterns. At the heart of the square stood a grand dueling platform—the Ring of Remembrance—reserved for ceremonial fights.
When the masked announcer called for challengers, no one expected Zayne to step forward.
Even less so when the second challenger appeared:
A man dressed entirely in crimson, face obscured behind a porcelain mask etched with song notes.
Zayne's breath caught.
That melody—
The masked man whistled the exact five-note tune from Zayne's dream.
TL/N:
This masked man may be our first live clue toward the massacre's perpetrator—or someone who knows the killer intimately. The tune is no coincidence.
---
Battle Commences – Fight Sequence Begins
The crowd hushed.
Both men bowed. No words. Just steel.
Zayne drew his blade: Silvershade, forged with noctite and spellruned along the spine.
The crimson stranger responded with an arming sword glowing faint red, humming with a strange frequency.
The bell rang.
Zayne surged forward.
> Technique – Phase Lunge
A rapid teleport-enhanced thrust that blinks the user three meters forward instantly.
He vanished—and reappeared behind the masked man, blade already sweeping.
But the man turned mid-spin, deflecting the strike with perfect timing.
"Not bad," the masked man said, voice smooth. "Try again, son of Solenne."
Zayne's eyes narrowed.
"You know me?"
The only response was a high sweep.
Zayne ducked, rolled, slashed low.
The man leapt with impossible grace, flipping over Zayne's counter and landing behind him.
Then—
> Technique – Ember Waltz
A footwork illusion technique that creates afterimages to confuse opponents.
Three versions of the masked man danced around Zayne. Sparks trailed behind them. Zayne slashed at one—it dissolved.
He breathed.
Calm… read the rhythm.
> Technique – Sixth Sense: Echo Reading
Zayne's innate gift activates, allowing him to sense intent, not just movement.
He struck left—and this time, hit flesh.
The crowd gasped as the man's sleeve tore, blood spraying.
But the masked man didn't slow.
He laughed.
"Good."
He removed the mask—only to reveal another beneath it. An illusion.
Then his blade ignited.
---
The Duel Escalates – Magic Introduced
Zayne's eyes widened as flame erupted from the stranger's weapon.
> Spell: Infernal Verse – 1st Movement: Blazing Dissonance
A fire spell forged with rhythmic resonance—each swing increases tempo, intensity, and heat.
Zayne parried once—twice—then hissed as flame licked his arm.
His scarf caught fire. He ripped it off.
His blade met the flaming sword again—this time, the spell's beat pulsed into his bones.
> BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
Zayne stumbled.
The masked man pressed forward.
"Do you feel it? This is music made for war."
> Counter Technique – Requiem Bloom
Zayne whispered a phrase. Sigils on his sword glowed. He slashed in a wide arc—an explosion of pressure and wind blew the attacker back.
The fire dimmed.
The crimson man stood at the edge of the platform, chuckling.
"Not bad, boy. You're waking up."
Then he vanished.
Smoke burst from his boots. Classic escape.
The crowd roared at the spectacle—but Zayne stood still, chest heaving.
Not from exhaustion.
From recognition.
That technique… those movements… his mother had once taught him something similar.
Whoever that man was—he'd been trained by someone very close to her.
---
Later – The Inn
Velka treated Zayne's burns in silence. Whisp offered him a flask. Saphren hummed the tune from earlier without realizing it.
Zayne sat in silence.
His hands trembled.
The masked man hadn't tried to kill him.
He was testing him.
Preparing him?
Why?
Was he connected to the massacre?
Was he… family?
---
Meanwhile – Elsewhere
The masked man arrived at a cliffside citadel.
He removed the illusion mask to reveal a scarred face—eyes identical to Zayne's.
He looked at a music box in his hand and opened it. It played the same tune.
A woman's voice echoed from inside it:
> "To my beloved… should our son ever find this, tell him the truth. Tell him—"
He shut it.
"Not yet."
He looked toward the horizon.
"Grow stronger first, Zayne."