NOVEL WEB Chapter 6: Confessions by the Fire
Amaya's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief. "Maybe I just like helping underdogs. Or maybe I'm bored. Does it matter?"
Kai frowned, unsure of what to make of her. Before he could reply, a rustling noise came from the bushes nearby.
"Hold that thought," Amaya said, her tone suddenly serious.
A group of scruffy bandits emerged from the shadows, their weapons glinting in the firelight. The leader, a burly man with a crooked grin, stepped forward.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" he sneered. "Two travelers out in the open? Bad luck for you."
Kai tensed, gripping Yamigami's hilt. But before he could stand, Amaya placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Relax," she said casually. "I'll handle this."
"You?!" Kai blurted.
Amaya didn't answer. She stepped forward, her movements smooth and deliberate.
The bandits laughed as she approached, clearly underestimating her.
"You think you can take us on by yourself, sweetheart?" the leader jeered.
Amaya smiled sweetly. "Oh, I don't think. I know."
In a blur of motion, Amaya unsheathed a pair of sleek, curved daggers. The next moments were chaos. She weaved through the bandits like a shadow, her strikes precise and devastating. One by one, they fell, their weapons clattering to the ground.
Kai watched in stunned silence as Amaya delivered a final, spinning kick that sent the leader sprawling.
When it was over, Amaya dusted off her hands and turned to Kai with a triumphant grin. "See? Easy."
Kai stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "Who are you?"
"I told you already," she said, twirling a dagger before sliding it back into its sheath. "Amaya. Wandering swordswoman. At your service."
He didn't know whether to be impressed or terrified.
Later, as they sat by the fire again, Kai's thoughts churned. He didn't trust her. Not yet. But he couldn't deny that she was skilled—skilled enough to be a valuable ally.
"Fine," he said reluctantly. "You can tag along. For now."
Amaya's smirk widened. "I knew you'd see reason."
As she leaned back against the log, Kai caught a faint chime. He glanced at her necklace—the small bell dangling there—and for a moment, his chest tightened. It sounded just like Mochi's bell.
He shook his head, brushing it off as coincidence.
Unbeknownst to him, Amaya's gaze flicked to the bell in her hand, her expression softening. "Let's see how far you're willing to go, Kai," she murmured under her breath.
Kai glanced at her suspiciously. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," she replied innocently, her teasing smile back in place.
Kai sighed, rubbing his temples. Traveling with her was going to be exhausting.
.
.
.
The fire crackled quietly, its soft light flickering across the clearing where Kai and Amaya had made camp. The forest was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Amaya sat cross-legged on her bedroll, absently twirling a stick in her hands, while Kai stared into the flames, lost in thought.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Amaya said, breaking the silence.
Kai didn't respond immediately, his gray eyes still fixed on the fire. Finally, he shrugged. "Not much to talk about."
Amaya arched an eyebrow, smirking. "That's hard to believe. A guy like you doesn't just wake up one morning and decide, 'Hey, I'm gonna go chase down a mythical artifact guarded by demons and angels.' There's always a story."
Kai glanced at her, his expression guarded. "What's it to you?"
"Call it curiosity," she said, leaning back on her hands. "If we're going to be traveling together, I figure I should at least know what I'm getting myself into. Besides, you're terrible at keeping secrets. It's all over your face—anger, guilt, sadness. It's like you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders."
Kai scoffed, but her words struck a nerve. He sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. "It's not a happy story."
"Happy stories are boring," Amaya replied with a shrug. "Spill."
For a moment, Kai hesitated. But something about Amaya—her sharp wit, her unrelenting persistence—made it impossible to deflect her questions.
"It started with Mochi," Kai began, his voice quieter now. He reached down to the small silver bell tied to his belt, his fingers brushing against it gently. "She was more than just a cat. She was… my family. My only family, really. After my mother died, it was just the two of us. Mochi was always there—no matter how bad things got, she made it better."
Amaya tilted her head, her teasing demeanor momentarily replaced by something softer. "Go on."
Kai took a deep breath, his hands tightening into fists. "Everything was fine until he showed up. Ren." His voice darkened at the name, and his jaw clenched. "My half-brother. I hadn't seen him in years, and when he came to my village, I thought—stupidly—that maybe he just wanted to reconnect."
Amaya leaned forward slightly, sensing the shift in his tone.
"But that wasn't why he came," Kai continued, his voice bitter. "He came looking for me. For what I am."
"And what are you?" Amaya asked, her emerald eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Kai hesitated, then said, "A descendant of the 13th Champion."
For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Amaya blinked, surprised. "The 13th Champion? As in the 13th Champion? The one who sealed the God's Realm?"
"Yeah," Kai muttered, his shoulders slumping. "Apparently, I'm some sort of heir to his bloodline or whatever. I didn't even know until Ren told me. And the first thing he did after dropping that bombshell was…" He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly.
Amaya's gaze softened. "What did he do?"
Kai stared at the bell in his hand, his grip trembling. "He killed Mochi. Right in front of me."
The clearing fell silent except for the faint crackle of the fire. Amaya watched him carefully, her usual smirk nowhere to be seen.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
"To provoke me. To get me angry, desperate—anything that would make me easier to manipulate," Kai said, his voice cold. "He told me about the God's Tear, said it could bring her back. Then he disappeared, leaving me with nothing but questions and…" He gestured vaguely at the air, his frustration palpable. "This stupid burden."