Trails in The Sea of Souls

Volume I - Chapter II

Tongues of flame licked hungrily at the structures in one of the larger neighborhood, casting an eerie glow that painted the night sky in shades of fiery red and orange; the crackling of burning wood echoed through the air, intermingling with the cacophony of chaos that unfolded below. Dozens of armed individuals — their forms cloaked in darkness — moved with swift precision, their weapons clutched tightly in their gloved hands; rifles and shotguns glinted menacingly as they prowled the streets, their presence a chilling reminder of the danger that now plagued the once peaceful neighborhood.
 
They advanced like a well-oiled machine, their footsteps muffled by the chaos that surrounded them; each movement was calculated, each corner methodically checked as they scoured the area with ruthless efficiency. Shadows danced and twisted, their elongated forms mimicking the disarray that reigned in the heart of the flames — the scent of smoke permeated the air, a pungent reminder of destruction and fear.
 
Amidst the chaos, the armed individuals focused their attention on one particular house, its modest façade now a beacon of vulnerability in the sea of chaos. Under the cover of the night, they closed in on their target, their eyes hidden behind tinted goggles that mirrored the darkness around them; civilians scattered like frightened animals, their cries for help echoing through the night, their desperate pleas for safety ignored by the relentless pursuers.
 
These people moved with deliberate intent, their footsteps barely audible against the backdrop of chaos; they flowed like a river, avoiding the panicked civilians as if they were mere obstacles in their path. The darkness seemed to embrace them, their dark armor blending seamlessly into the night, while steel gray pants clung to their forms with an eerie stillness; their joints — left unprotected — exposed a glimpse of weakness amidst the overwhelming façade of invulnerability.
 
The night air crackled with tension, a palpable energy that seemed to heighten their senses as they prepared for the final assault. With an almost imperceptible nod from their leader, they breached the door, splintered wood giving way to their relentless force; the interior of the house was swallowed by darkness, broken only by the flickering light of the flames outside. They moved with a calculated swiftness, clearing each room in their search for their quarry — cupboards were flung open, furniture overturned as they left no stone unturned in their relentless pursuit.
 
And yet, in the end, their efforts would prove to be in vain, for the house stood empty, devoid of life and the targets they sought…

---

“What the hell are you all idiots doing!? They can’t have gotten far! Spread out and find them! No stone left unturned!”
 
The gruff voice of one of the unknown armed individuals pierced the air, the words that came out of his lips laced with both frustration and urgency; his command echoed through the narrow alley, his men swiftly obeying his orders and fanning out in different directions, disappearing into the darkness like shadows on a moonless night. The tension in the air grew palpable as their footsteps echoed against the walls, their search intensifying with each passing moment.
 
They had sought refuge behind a sturdy stone wall, its rough texture pressing against their backs; the cold, hard surface — weathered by time and adorned with ivy tendrils — provided a semblance of safety amidst the chaos. Minato’s eyes darted across the cracked bricks, his senses heightened as he observed the shadows cast by the flickering streetlights. Mrs. Osborne — her normally serene expression now etched with lines of worry — held her son close, her arms wrapped protectively around him, their bodies melded together in a desperate embrace. The sound of the two’s rapid breaths filled the air, mingling with the thumping of their own hearts and the muffled voices of the armed individuals searching for them.
 
His gaze went to the blade and evoker strapped to his belt before it shifted towards the young boy huddled beside him. Rean Osborne, with his wide innocent eyes and tousled black hair, looked up at him with a mix of fear and confusion… and despite the gravity of their situation, the Wild Card couldn’t bring himself to subject the child to the violence that may ensue should he choose to utilize the full extent of his abilities.
 
In the end, so long as he could help it, then an excessive display of violence — with all its inherent chaos and danger — had no place in the presence of a child… which means that he is now restricted in the methods he could employ to ensure their escape. Besides, while these people are certainly in the wrong, it doesn’t change the fact that he had no wish to take their lives.
 
With a calm and calculated demeanor, his mind began to analyze the situation. Considering everything that had happened thus far, waiting for an opportune moment to escape would be much more prudent than engaging in a confrontation head on; his eyes flickered with determination as he observed the scattered crates and discarded debris nearby, forming a mental map of potential escape routes.
 
‘No… not good enough.’
 
While Minato was confident in his abilities to escape the situation unscathed, the same couldn’t be said for the other two person beside him. Every single one of the armed individuals seemed ruthless and determined, their voices carrying a sense of desperation and a willingness to do whatever it took to capture or perhaps even kill their targets, which, based on what he knew so far, is none other than the Osborne family. That they seemed content on ignoring the other civilians in the surrounding area was, perhaps, the only silver lining in this dire situation. Nevertheless, the knowledge he had gathered up until this point was not sufficient to determine his next course of action; he needed more information — a clearer understanding of the motives and capabilities of their pursuers — and unfortunately for him, there is only one sure way for him to obtain it.
 
A soft sigh escaped from his lips as he turned his attention inward, focusing on the power that rest deep within his soul. As the Wild Card, he had been granted the ability to wield multiple Personas, each representing a facet of his being; among them, Lucia — the ethereal figure shrouded in delicate silver threads — possessed the skill that granted him the gift of extraordinary perception. However, the over-utilization of such active ability is not without its own drawback; the splitting headache that suddenly assaulted his senses was an unwelcome reminder of the toll it took upon his own mind — a consequence of pushing the boundaries of his power without the aid of an evoker.
 
The world around him shifted as the Persona that once belonged to his teal-haired girl answered his call, the surface of his surrounding taking on a more surreal hue; his perception expanded, his consciousness merging with the fabric of reality. Lucia’s gift continued to guide him as he stumbled slightly to the side, offering him a constant stream of information that flowed seamlessly into his mind.
 
“Mister Arisato, are you-”
 
“I’m fine,” he cut her off with a gentle shake of his head, interrupting the woman’s concern as he reoriented himself. “Just… be ready to escape.”
 
“O-okay…”
 
Through the Persona’s ethereal sight, Minato perceived the alley with a newfound clarity. He could see each tiny crack in the worn pavement, the discarded cigarette butts littering the ground like fallen stars, and the few splotches of paint adorning the walls in their vibrant hues. Every sound echoed with heightened intensity — the distant rain, the scuffling of rats in hidden corners, and the faint rustling of the wind whispering its secrets through the narrow passageway. Her gifts were so potent that they allowed him the abilities to pinpoint the exact location of every individual within a vast radius, their movements, and even the minute details of their surroundings; it was as if a web of knowledge had woven itself within his consciousness, a tapestry of awareness that granted him an advantage in this dangerous game of hide and seek.
 
As he analyzed the topography of their surroundings, a plan began to take shape in Minato’s mind; he pinpointed a series of interconnected backstreets, alleyways, and hidden narrow passage that would provide them with a means of escape. Mentally marking each route, he determined the optimal path to evade their pursuers, one that would allow them to avoid the well-lit main roads and leading them deeper into the labyrinth of shadows.
 
Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze towards the woman beside him, his expression composed and resolute; her eyes met his, a flicker of hope shining within them despite the fear that still lingered. Gesturing towards the newly designated escape route with a subtle nod, Minato conveyed his intentions without uttering a single word. Kasia Osborne, understanding his silent message, tightened her grip on her son and nodded in return, her trust in him unspoken yet unwavering.
 
The sound of footsteps grew closer, the voices of their pursuers growing louder as they closed in on their location; time was of the essence, and with Lucia’s guidance, Minato knew that the opportune moment was swiftly approaching. The persona’s ethereal existence remained at the edge of his perception, a comforting presence that whispered its support and guidance as he began to call upon the aid of another one of his Personas.
 
His senses sharpened, his reflexes honed to a razor’s edge, and his body seemed to move with a newfound grace as a surge of energy coursed through his veins; the air around him crackled with anticipation as the power of the Persona manifested itself using his body as a conduit. The valiant knight who had once upon a time wielded the Sword of Promised Victory bestowed upon him the aspects of his legendary persona, granting him the strength and dexterity of an unrivaled swordsman, an instinctual reactions that bordered on precognition, and an unwavering resolve that burned like an unquenchable flame.
 
The sound of his breaths melded with the symphony of chaos surrounding them, his heartbeat harmonizing with the rhythm of battle that lay just beyond as he reached for the hilt of his blade — his fingers grazing the cold metal with a gentle touch; the mystical steel whispered secrets of its untapped potential to him, its weight familiar and comforting in his grasp.
 
With deliberate motion, he began to unsheathe his blade, the soft metallic hiss serving as a prelude to the impending clash. Slowly — inch by inch — the ornate, silver blade emerged from its scabbard, catching the dim light of the alley as if it were a celestial beacon amidst the encroaching darkness. The craftsmanship was impeccable, the blade glinting with an otherworldly sheen that seemed to mirror the resolve burning within his eyes. His grip on his sword tightened, his fingers finding solace in the familiar contours of the hilt… and with a deft twist of his wrist, he shifted the weapon, revealing the blunt end of the blade — an unorthodox choice, but one that would allow him to disable his enemies without inflicting fatal harm — a desirable outcome for this particular scenario.
 
He could hear the soft whirring of pistols being cocked, the metallic clicks that echoed throughout the alley like a sinister symphony. The armed individuals, unaware of the imminent danger that awaited them, continued to press forward — their footsteps drawing ever closer, their guns primed and ready to unleash a hailstorm of bullets… and as the first of their pursuers emerged from the corner, Minato sprang into action, his instincts guiding him like a masterful conductor just as one of the masked man noticed his and his benefactor’s presences.
 
“Targets in-“
 
‘Too slow…’
 
With a fluid motion, he dashed out of his hiding place and swung the blunt edge of his blade in an upward arc, the weapon connecting with the nearest enemy’s elbow as he attempted to aim his pistol — a sharp crack echoed in the narrow alley as bone met steel; the assailant cried out in pain, dropping his weapon to clutch at his broken arm as the gun clattered to the ground, the sound swallowed by the chaos that ensued. Time seemed to slow as Minato continued his assault, his movements swift and precise like a dancer caught in the throes of battle.
 
The rest of the enemies reacted with a mix of surprise and fury, their attention turning to the unexpected threat that had emerged from the shadows; their guns barked in unison, bullets slicing through the air like deadly hornets seeking their prey. His heightened senses — honed by his Persona’s abilities — allowed him to perceive the trajectory of each bullet, the air humming with their deadly intent… and with a calculated grace, he weaved through the onslaught of bullets, his body a blur of motion. He sidestepped, ducked, and twisted, evading the hail of lead aimed in his direction; the threat of death hanging in the air like a tangible presence as bullets whizzed past his head like angry wasps, their deadly intentions thwarted by his nimble movements and supernatural reflexes.
 
“Slippery bastard! Hurry up and take him down!” Exclaimed one of their pursuers, his hand reaching for the pistol holstered on his belt as soon as his rifle ran out of bullets. “Spread out and surround him!”
 
“Ja!” The rest of the men answered as they began to box him in; affirmative, if his limited understanding of German were to coincide with that of this world.
 
His body seemed to defy gravity as he maneuvered effortlessly through the barrage of gunfire; he bounded of walls, his limbs twisting and contorting as he proceeded to somersault through the air with an almost ethereal grace, each move executed with impeccable precision. The enemies struggled to adjust their aim as his acrobatics rendered them mere spectators to his aerial display; his agile form seemed to dance amidst the chaos, his body a kinetic sculpture in motion. With each leap and twist, the Wild Card continued to close the distance between himself and his adversaries, his blade poised to strike at the earliest opportunity.
 
He landed gracefully behind one of the armed individuals, his momentum propelling him forward in a seamless transition from one acrobatic feat to another. In a swift motion, Minato swung his silver blade downward, the blunt end crashing against the back of the enemy’s unprotected knee with a bone-crushing force — a pained cry escaped from the man’s lips as his leg buckled beneath him, sending him sprawling onto the ground; he writhed in agony, his firearm slipping from his grasp and skidding across the pavement, its metallic body clashing against the stones with a hollow thud.
 
The only two remaining pursuers — their faces contorted with anger and disbelief — redoubled their efforts, their fingers tightening around their triggers as they unleashed a fresh wave of bullets in Minato’s direction… even so, the Wild Card’s evasive maneuvers persisted, his body moving with the fluidity of a ghostly apparition. He twisted, spun, and leaped, defying the laws of physics as he navigated the deadly storm; each bullet seemed to brush past him by mere millimeters, the air vibrating with their passing as if fate itself intervened to ensure his survival.
 
“Fuck! We didn’t get paid enough for this shit!”
 
Desperate, one the enemy reached for the radio strapped to his vest, intending to call for backup, but just as his trembling hand grasped the device, a sudden surge of power surged through Minato’s outstretched arm, his Persona lending him his aid in the form of a temporary immobilization spell — the mind-numbing pain that came along with it almost enough to cause the Wild Card to stagger and fall. The enemy’s movements froze, his arm locked in place as a tiny bolt of lightning impacted his body; panic flitted across the man’s face as he tried to regain control of his limbs, the radio slipping from his fingers and clattering to the ground.
 
“Orbal Arts!?” A surprised gasp escaped the lips of the other enemy — a woman, Minato noted with a mild interest — as the small current of electricity snaked across her comrade’s body, causing him to convulse involuntarily. “B-but how!?”
 
No… it was none of them.
 
He knew of Orbal Arts and their usages, yet the spell he used had not been one derived from the technological marvels of this new world. It was a simpler and lesser variation of ‘Zio’, a particularly deadly technique when used in full force, but no less useful in its utility even in its weakened state… not that it would help them much in this kind of situation, especially since the gunfire alone would’ve alerted the others to their location.
 
Before the woman could recover from her surprise, Minato capitalized on the opportunity; closing the distance between them in an instant, he delivered a swift strike with the hilt of his blade, aiming for the back of her head — the impact sent a shockwave through her body, rendering her momentarily disoriented as she stumbled forward, her grip on her firearm loosening. Taking advantage of her weakened state, Minato swiftly disarmed her, his left hand moving like a blur as he wrestled the shotgun from her grasp and tossed it aside; his leg moved upward as he proceeded to deliver a knee strike to her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her and forcing her to collapse onto the ground.
 
A soft shuffle of footsteps alerted him to the danger approaching from his back; the first man he had dealt with — the one with the broken elbow — lunged forward, his knife glinting in the dim light of the moon. Mrs. Kasia, recognizing the danger, tried to warn him of the approaching threat, yet in the end, such thing was not needed, for Minato’s heightened perception had caught every nuance of his movement…
 
With the reflexes granted by his Persona, Minato swiftly turned and parried the man’s attack with expert precision; the clash of metal against metal reverberated through the air as their weapons collided, sparks dancing like fireflies in the darkness before the Wild Card swiftly disarmed his opponent… and with another surge of strength, Minato twisted his body, using the man’s momentum against him; he leveraged his own weight — aided by his Persona’s enhanced abilities — and delivered a powerful throw. The man hurtled through the air, his body tumbling and crashing against the pavement — the impact sent shockwaves of pain radiating through his body, and he lay sprawled on the ground, dazed and defeated.
 
“Let’s go…” His voice was quiet yet filled with determination, his gaze shifting to the rest of the fallen enemies sprawled on the ground before he began to move towards their designated escape route; his benefactor wasted no time, pulling her son closer to her side and carrying him forward, his small form cradled protectively in her arms.
 
Their footsteps echoed throughout the alley, the sound muffled by the chaos that still lingered in the air; they moved swiftly and silently, shadows enveloping them as they slipped away from the scene of battle — the night seemed to embrace them, offering a shroud of anonymity that shielded them from prying eyes…