Chapter 6: The Road To Hachi
The forest stretched endlessly before Orin, its thick canopy of leaves shrouding him in shadows. The night air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat that lingered from the day's events. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of his actions were anchoring him to the forest floor. He clenched the folded letter Sonny had left him, his knuckles white, the crumpled parchment a lifeline he couldn't let go.
*Hachi Academy.*
Sonny had believed in him. Even after everything that had happened—after the bloodshed, the loss—Sonny's words urged him forward. But doubt gnawed at Orin like a relentless Monari. Could he really step into a place like Hachi? Could he be more than the monster he had become?
As he trudged through the underbrush, every sound made him flinch. The soft rustle of leaves, the crackle of a distant branch—they all felt amplified, sharp enough to cut through his spiraling thoughts. He wasn't alone out here, and he knew it.
The memory of the black cat's unblinking gaze lingered in his mind. It had felt… unnatural. More than a cat. Orin's heart tightened. *Was it watching me, or something else?*
The question haunted him as he moved deeper into the forest, the trees closing in like silent sentinels.
Hours passed. Orin walked until his legs ached, driven by a need to distance himself from the clearing where his family now lay buried. The moonlight filtered weakly through the treetops, giving the forest an otherworldly glow. At some point, exhaustion began to set in, the adrenaline from the fight long since faded.
He stumbled upon a clearing, its edges dotted with moss-covered boulders and wildflowers that gleamed faintly in the moonlight. A shallow stream bubbled nearby, its soft gurgling the only sound in the stillness.
Orin sank to his knees by the water's edge, cupping the cool liquid in his hands and splashing it on his face. The cold jolted his senses, grounding him for a moment. He stared at his reflection in the rippling water—his face pale, his eyes sunken with fatigue, and the faint marks of his earlier transformation still etched into his skin. His fingers brushed against his jaw, tracing the faint scars that now seemed permanent.
"Who am I?" he whispered to his reflection, the words barely audible over the stream's gentle flow.
The reflection stared back, offering no answers.
Orin decided to rest. He leaned against one of the larger boulders, the cold stone pressing into his back. Despite the fatigue weighing on his limbs, sleep didn't come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw their faces. Sonny, Vince, Vice… Lisa. The memories of their laughter, their guidance, their love—they played in his mind like a cruel trick, juxtaposed with the images of their lifeless bodies.
Orin sat up abruptly, his breath shallow. He couldn't let his mind wander there. Not now.
A sound broke through the stillness. A rustle—soft, almost imperceptible, but enough to snap Orin to attention. His hand instinctively went to the blade at his side, his senses sharpening. He scanned the clearing, his eyes darting between the shadows.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice steadier than he felt.
Silence.
Then, from the edge of the clearing, a figure emerged.
It wasn't the black cat this time. It was a man, cloaked in dark, weathered robes that seemed to blend into the forest shadows. His face was obscured by a hood, but his presence radiated an unsettling calm. In one hand, he carried a staff, its surface etched with runes that faintly glowed in the moonlight.
"Orin Slain," the figure said, his voice low and even. "I've been looking for you."
Orin tensed, rising to his feet. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The man took a step closer, his movements deliberate. "I am not your enemy. But you… you are not what you seem."
Orin's grip tightened on his blade. "How do you know my name?"
The figure tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the question. "There are whispers in the wind, boy. Whispers of a beast who tore through the forest, leaving death in his wake. A beast who carries the blood of two worlds."
Orin's breath hitched. His heart pounded against his ribs, the man's words striking too close to the truth. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
The man chuckled softly, the sound devoid of humor. "You cannot hide what you are. Not from me. And not from yourself." He raised his staff slightly, the runes flaring brighter. "The Monari-Kai blood runs through your veins, doesn't it? It calls to you."
Orin froze. The term rang in his ears—Monari-Kai. He had heard it before, in Sonny's stories, in whispered legends. But what did it have to do with him?
"I'm not…" Orin began, but the words faltered.
The man stepped closer, lowering his staff. "You may not understand it yet, but you will. The beast inside you—it's not just a curse. It's a key. And if you wish to survive the storm that is coming, you must learn to wield it."
Orin's chest tightened. "What storm? What are you talking about?"
The man's expression darkened, his voice grave. "New Altera stands on the edge of chaos. Forces are moving, unseen and unstoppable. You are at the center of it all, whether you like it or not."
The weight of the man's words pressed down on Orin, but he shook his head. "I don't want to be a part of anything. I just want to—"
"To what?" the man interrupted, his tone sharp. "Run? Hide? You think the beast inside you will let you live in peace? You think the world will?"
Orin clenched his fists, anger flaring in his chest. "I didn't ask for this!"
The man's gaze softened, though his voice remained firm. "None of us do. But we don't get to choose our fate. We only choose how we face it."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The stream continued its gentle gurgling, the only sound in the oppressive silence.
Finally, the man lowered his hood, revealing a weathered face etched with scars. His eyes, piercing and wise, met Orin's. "Go to Hachi Academy. There, you will find answers. And perhaps… redemption."
Orin's jaw tightened. He didn't trust this man—didn't trust anyone—but the mention of the Academy stirred something inside him. Sonny's letter. The black cat. The pull he couldn't explain.
"Who are you?" Orin asked, his voice quieter now.
The man smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "A friend. For now."
Before Orin could respond, the man turned and began to walk away, his figure melting into the shadows of the forest. "We will meet again, Orin Slain," he called over his shoulder. "And when we do, you will be ready."
Orin stood frozen, the man's words echoing in his mind. The clearing felt colder now, emptier, as if the encounter had drained the air of warmth.
He stared at the spot where the man had disappeared, his thoughts racing.
*Hachi Academy.*
The word held more weight now. It wasn't just Sonny's wish—it was a path forward. A path Orin wasn't sure he was ready to take, but one he couldn't ignore.
As the first rays of dawn began to pierce through the trees, Orin tightened his grip on the letter in his hand. The journey ahead would be long, and the shadows would follow him. But for the first time since the battle, a flicker of resolve burned in his chest.
He started walking.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone