Reincarnated in a depressing erotic world but living a normal life (right?) Symphony

"Kghh...!!"

Shija was pinned to the ground, his astral form vibrating violently under a force that did not stem from gravity, but from the sheer existence of the man before him.

(VRRRRRRR-KRRSH!)

The chanical ash crunched beneath his chest, and every ti he tried to lift a finger, the pressure increased, as if the sky itself were collapsing onto his back.

(Tap...)

anwhile, in parallel, Yumaru took his first step, generating a dry sound that echoed in Shija’s mind like a hamr blow.

"Why did you attack upon hearing my na, boy?"

The specter walked with a terrifying calm, keeping the cigarette between his lips; its red ember was the only thing that seed to hold color in that environnt which grew darker by the mont.

(Tap... Tap...)

The steps beca rhythmic, marking a beat that forced Shija's pulse to synchronize with them.

"Was it out of pride?"

With every advance Yumaru made, the ground around Shija began to sink further, forming a crater of despair.

"Was it out of that foolish loyalty to a style you think you know?"

When Yumaru was just a couple of ters away, the sound of his boot against the ash was deafening—a final sentence of authority.

(BOOM... BOOM... BOOM!!)

The pressure reached its peak, forcing Shija to bury his face into the chanical earth.

"Tell ..."

Finally, as Yumaru stopped in front of Shija, he took one last drag; the fire of the cigarette illuminated his weary eyes before he asked in a voice that seed to co from everywhere and, at the sa ti, from nowhere:

"Or perhaps it was sothing else... sothing more primitive?"

"Ugh... I...!!"

In reaction to those words, Shija tried to articulate a response...

"Do not answer."

However, the specter did not allow it, tilting his head as he observed the youth with a mixture of pity and disdain.

"In the end, none of that matters."

Amidst that pressure which made the very foundations of Shija's consciousness creak, Yumaru fixed his eyes on the sharp gaze that Shija returned to him.

"Pride does not save lives, loyalty does not stop steel, and feelings... they are only the fuel for those who are already dead."

After saying those words, Yumaru slowly averted his gaze, looking up toward the erald sky where the crystal butterflies flew.

(Fuuuuuuuuuh...!)

Imdiately after, he exhaled a dense and prolonged puff of smoke, a gray cloud that seed to cloud the air itself, montarily obscuring the distant stars of that dreamlike world.

"The sky of this place is a lie."

With a slowness that denoted a weariness beyond the physical, Yumaru raised his hand and removed the cigarette from his lips, holding the small cylinder between his index and middle fingers. He allowed a thin thread of smoke to spiral toward the horizon, while his gaze was lost in the line where the sky of wonders rged with the darkness of the unknown.

(This man...!)

Shija, though crushed against the ground, could perceive the change.

"But at least it is a lie that does not try to hide what we are."

The monstrous pressure did not diminish, but it beca... different. It was no longer pure aggression; now it felt like a heavy lancholy, a void so vast it threatened to devour everything in its path.

(I CAN'T... I REFUSE...!!)

In response, even though the erald sky continued to vibrate with the incessant fluttering of millions of butterflies, for Shija, the world had shrunk to the chanical earth that sought to devour him.

(BEFORE SOONE... LIKE HIM... I...!!)

Yumaru’s pressure was an ocean of lead, but at the center of his soul, the spark of resistance began to burn brighter and brighter.

(Crr-ack... Grrr-k!)

This caused the ground beneath Shija to groan as his spectral fingers dug into the ash.

(I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS!!)

His shoulders trembled, emitting small flashes of cyan and green light that struggled not to fade out, while his spiritual circuits screeched in a superhuman effort as Shija began to lift himself up.

"You learn fast..."

As he rose, Shija's astral vertebrae emitted a dry sound, like old wood resisting a gale, as he managed to lift his face from the earth.

"You have the sa eyes."

Yumaru, who still had his gaze lost on the horizon, slowly looked down. His eyebrows rose barely a milliter, observing the young man's struggle.

"It is the sa spirit you had... Isn't it...?"

Without taking his eyes off Shija, Yumaru brought the cigarette toward the palm of his left hand.

(Tssssss!!)

Extinguishing the embers against his skin...

"Like so..."

Yumaru closed his fist for a second, erasing any trace of heat, and then simply opened his hand, letting the rest of the cigarette fall sideways onto the ash.

"That’s how it should be... Right... Amber?"

Then, that specter from a forgotten era, of a lost war and an extinguished spark...

"This is how the last generation should behave. Without bowing their heads before the weight of those who already failed."

He observed in Shija's figure that fierce spirit of the woman he loved, rembering when he was once truly moved.

"GRRRRR!!"

As if in response, Shija gave one last surge, standing fully upright. His body still vibrated from the stress of the pressure, but his determination shone with brilliance.

"...."

And without saying a word, he simply extended his right hand toward the dense air.

(KRA-SHING-BUM!!)

He summoned his sword once more with a will that caused the ashes around him to be blown away in a perfect ring, firmly driving the blade deep into the chanical ground between him and the Founder, using it not just for support, but as a challenge.

"Haaaah... Haaa... Haa..."

His breathing was heavy, a raspy pant that mingled with the hiss of the wind.

"I will not... fight."

With both hands tightly gripping the hilt of the sword driven into the ground, he managed to articulate through gritted teeth, raising his gaze to lock his eyes with Yumaru's.

"You refuse?"

In reaction to those words, for the first ti, Yumaru's mask of indifference cracked. His eyes widened slightly, showing genuine surprise, not expecting that after being humiliated and crushed, the youth would have the audacity to refuse to counterattack.

(VROOOOOOOOOM!!)

In response, the pressure did not just return; it condensed.

"¡¡!!"

It was no longer a general weight over the area; now it was a solid pillar of gelid energy directed exclusively toward Shija's shoulders.

"Why do you resist, boy?"

The ground beneath Shija's feet sank another ten centiters all at once.

"A warrior who loses the will to fight in the face of adversity is nothing more than a walking corpse. In this place, if you do not wield your weapon with the desire to conquer, you are already dead."

Shija felt his astral bones screech.

"Is that all the strength of your will?"

Slowly, the pressure forced him to kneel upon the chanical ash; nevertheless, his grip on the sword refused to falter.

"I am sick of it...!"

Amidst that devastating pressure, Shija—frustrated and exhausted—burst out with renewed intensity against the man before him.

"I am sick of soone else dictating my destiny! Sick of being told when I must fight and when I must fall!"

Shija lifted his face, defying the aura that sought to sink him into the earth.

"Even if you truly are the Founder... even if you are a legend!"

The roar of Shija's soul resonated as the erald butterflies in the sky fluttered frantically, filled with joy.

"I will fight for what I want to protect, but I will do it at my own pace, guided by the experiences I have lived and not by the experiences of a ghost!"

The determination in his cry created a shockwave that swept the ash around him, making it clear that, even if his knees touched the ground, his spirit stood taller than ever.

"My will is mine and no one else's!"

In that mont...

(...♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...)

Faced with that declaration, the soul that shaped that space seed to react.

(KRA-BOOOOOM-RUMBLE!!)

And a telluric tremor shook reality.

(...♫..♩..♩..♩...)

Shija, still on his knees, felt how the earth beneath him ceased to be dead ash in accordance with a new song...

(...♩..𝅝)

The ruined Victorian mansions straightened themselves with a screech of wood and tal, as chanical constructs began to erge.

(...♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...)

Bronze gears the size of suns and copper pipes carrying essence vapor erged from the ground, clicking rhythmically into place.

(...♩..♩..♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...♩..♩..♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...)

From the shadows erged carved silver torches that ignited spontaneously with gray flas—a cold fire that did not burn, but rather illuminated the truth.

(...♫..♫..♩..♩..♭..♫..♫..♩..♩..♯...)

The ground, once sterile, transford into a solid aurora, a crystalline surface that reflected impossible colors.

"Impossible..."

At the feet of Yumaru and Shija, chanical flowers blood all at once, opening obsidian petals from which flowed rivers of a blackish, shimring tar—pitch water that began to flow in perfect channels, snaking through the new geography.

(...♫..♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...♫..♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...♫..♩..♩..♩..♩..♩..♩...)

In the sky, the chaos of the butterflies turned into a dance where millions of erald wings traced constellations of electric green light, celebrating the restoration of order.

(...♩..♩..♩..♩..𝅗𝅥...)

Yumaru, who had remained impassive, felt the change in atmosphere.

"So... That is... the answer you yearned for..."

The monstrous pressure he exerted dissipated, absorbed by the new majesty of the surroundings.

(...♩..♩..♭..♩..𝅝...)

The Founder raised his right hand and covered his eyes with his palm, slightly bowing his head as the chocolate wind now blew with renewed strength, mingled with the scent of ozone and gear oil.

"I surrender."

Thus, the specter of the past let out a long sigh of acceptance toward the unconscious Shija on the ground.