Skye nervously walked up a wide set of rough stone steps, worn down over years of rain. He was headed to the town hall, carved out of one of the stone spires the town of Redwake was built around. After “saving” the town, Skye supposed it was only natural he would be invited by whoever the leader was, although that didn’t stop him from feeling more than a little intimidated by a huge skeleton of a shark, bleached with age and strung with thick rope from the ceiling, jaws gaping open to reveal several rows of razor sharp teeth. Skye had been graciously staying at a small inn, The Red Fin, at no cost for the past two days since he had caused the bandits to flee, although it certainly felt undeserved; he had no idea how or what exactly happened, and he hadn’t tried to stimulate it again, in fear of hurting a local. Now walking down a short hall lined with flickering torches, shadows dancing across the walls, Skye stopped at a large table, on which was a diagram depicting several “tiers of acidity” around the jaws. He noticed a grey haired, bearded man at the other end of the table sitting on a large chair, sorting through a stack of papers. The man looked up as he approached, and despite smiling warmly at Skye, had heavy bags under his eyes.
“Ho there!” He said, getting up and moving around the table to firmly shake Skye’s hand. “Skye, right? Name’s Alfarin. You must be the one who chased off those bandits…the town is grateful for your aid in our time of need, but I’m ‘fraid that was the least of our problems. In fact, I can hardly blame the poor scoundrels for pulling off something like that. They’ve mostly left us alone in the past, but food and clean water is becoming harder and harder to obtain ‘round here, they must be getting desperate.” Skye walked over to the diagram on the table.
“Tiers of acidity, food distribution plan? What’s going on?” Alfarin’s tired eyes glinted as he saw the opportunity; perhaps there was still hope.
“Well, if y’must know, the water ‘round here’s been getting increasingly more acidic each day. We didn’t think much of it at first, but then the fish started to die, and our ships began to corrode. Our hunters have had to spend twice the normal amount of time gathering food and water, just to keep people alive.” Skye frowned, taking a closer look at the charts.
“That’s awful…would I be able to hel-”
“Why of course!” Alfarin cut in, thrusting an old map into Skye’s hands. “See that island, there in the southern jaws? Some sorta hermit lives there. Don’t know much about ‘em, but they’ve helped us folk out in the past. Tell you what, if you get their help and manage to restore the water in the area, we’ll get you a sailboat!” Skye started to object, but Alfarin waved him off.
“Don’t bother, I insist. Ya won’t get far with that rowboat of yours in the open sea, and the sailboat’s hull is too weak to last in the water as it is, so it’s not being used anyways.” Reluctantly agreeing, Skye headed out, pushing his rowboat into the water. A few villagers on the docks cheered half-heartedly as he rowed by, before heading back to their usual jobs. Alfarin was right; as he peered over the side of his boat, murky viscous whisps floated through the slightly green water, and every once in a while he could hear a faint sizzling sound coming from the bottom of his hull. After around a quarter-hour of navigating between rock spires, Skye finally docked his boat at a rocky island, an oasis amidst the towering pillars surrounding it. Walking up a sanded wooden ramp, Skye reached the top of the island: a small, grassy, flat stretch atop a rocky base. A winding stone path led to a small house, stopping at a tiny well and firepit, surrounded by a few trees. As he stepped onto the path, a figure clad in traditional samurai garments, sitting by the fire, calmly placed his hand on the hilt of a long sheathed katana laying next to him.
“…You should not have come here,” the hermit said, slowly standing up with his weapon in hand. He turned to face Skye, pulling out his katana, as his eyes burst with a searing green light, and a coating of sizzling green acid materialized around his blade. Skye started to apprehensively back away, heart pounding.
“N-now, sir, I don’t m-”
“I am Shura of the Ryujin Dynasty,” he interrupted, voice slightly muffled through a fanged helmet. “I know not your reasons for coming here, and they do not matter. Prove yourself worthy of my time, or die trying.” Cursing under his breath, Skye dived out of the way as Shura lunged at him.
“Listen, I’m not here to figh-”
“Pathetic,” the hermit said coldly, swinging his blade towards him. Skye once again barely managed to evade the attack, dropping to the ground, specks of acid sizzling painfully against his skin. Lying prone, Skye quickly raised his head, but his opponent was nowhere to be seen. Hearing a soft rustling in a tree above him, he looked up, and time seemed to stop. Locking eyes with him, Shura descended from midair, slashing downwards. His gaze never left his target, who was staring back up at him, eyes wide. Strange, thought Skye, as he looked at the sword, starting to bubble with a green froth. He almost couldn’t make out the end of the katana, as the edge faded into sharp nothingness. So this is how I die.
Skye shut his eyes tightly, and he felt something new, different from fear and imminent doom. He could feel every wisp of air blowing around him, brushing against his skin, getting stronger by the second. For a split second Skye experienced the purest joy and freedom he had ever felt, as he was lifted slightly in the air. Shura, and the danger he was in slipped from his mind as soft breezes played around him…except they were getting more uncomfortable by the second. The light winds flowing around Skye turned inwards, collecting around him, pushing against his skin on all sides, as he was softly crushed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t do anything but writhe in anguish. With one last effort, Skye pushed outwards, and the air was blasted away from him in all directions as he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, eyes still closed. He remembered Shura and began to open his eyes, only for the winds to return and clamp them shut just before he could. His mind was ablaze in a whirl of fear and confusion as he staggered about, trying to keep his footing. Skye continuously pushed outwards in random directions, trying to get rid of the wind, the crushing force that kept returning to him. Each time he fired the winds away from himself, they boomeranged back, pushing against and compressing his entire being, just as he thought he was free. He didn’t want his magic, didn’t want the winds to keep returning. After what seemed like an eternity of torment, Skye felt a hand firmly grip his arm, burning through the skin beneath it. With one final push, empowered by the pain, he managed to blast the crushing winds straight ahead of him farther away than ever before, and he heard an explosion of rock far in the distance. Skye finally managed to open his eyes, and the rushing air came back as a gentle breeze, then disappeared entirely. The hand released its grip, and Shura sat heavily on the ground next to Skye, breathing heavily, armor battered and scratched. His other arm appeared to have been broken, hanging limply by his side.
“Enough, you have clearly bested me. Though any more of that, and you would have died. You obviously didn’t come here to fight, I’m guessing Alfarin sent you?” Wincing as he slightly moved his arm, Skye took a moment to compose himself.
“Wh…yes, after watching you fight, I have reason to believe you’re the source of the problem with water acidity.” Shura remained silent for a few seconds, the piercing green glow from his eyes beginning to fade.
“Hmm. I had only recently discovered my abilities here. Practicing acid manipulation techniques over the ocean many times a day seems detrimental for the environment, indeed. Well then, out of respect, I will leave this place,” Shura calmly stated, raising his hand as Skye began to object.
“I was already planning to depart within the next year, this does not hinder my goals.” The hermit stood up, limping towards his small house as Skye walked down the ramp towards his rowboat. Turning his head back towards Skye, Shura grinned slightly under his dented mask.
“I look forward to meeting you again. Next time, I do not intend on losing.”
Skye sat up in bed, stretching after a long night’s rest. It had been four days since he returned with the news of solving the problem with Shura, and the town had a small festival, celebrating the water’s return to normality. Talking things over with chief Alfarin had been rougher than anticipated; he wanted to launch an attack on the hermit right then and there, but thankfully, Skye managed to explain the situation before anything drastic happened. Quickly getting dressed and heading to the docks, he peered over the edge into the water, which was finally back to normal. Skye had insisted on working around the town to pay off his stay at the Red Fin, and the new sailboat, which was just then being hoisted down a large ramp into the water. Just as he finished packing the last of his things onto the boat, Skye was surprised to see Alfarin and most of the town personally see him off.
“We can’t thank ya enough!” Alfarin said, waving as the sails dropped down. “Next town over is Frostmill, big ‘ol iceberg, ya can’t miss it. And hey, feel free to come by anytime! You’ll always be welcome at Redwake!”
“Got it,” chuckled Skye, waving back at the crowd of people as he began to sail away. After a while, he finally navigated through The Jaws, the sea opening in front of him. Skye closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sun play across his face, oblivious to the breeze picking up slightly around him. It was a beautiful day, and he had a long journey ahead of him.