A sudden storm raged deep into the night, a symphony of chaos woven from wind, rain, and the constant roar of the sea. Lightning carved jagged scars into the sky, illuminating the world in brief, blinding flashes before plunging it back into darkness. The air was thick with the scent of salt and dampness, the relentless downpour soaking everything in its path.
The group huddled in the meager shelter they had found, arms wrapped tightly around themselves, fighting against the creeping chill that gnawed at their bones. Ares, however, felt only a mild discomfort—cold, yes, but nothing unbearable. Sunny, had her memory to keep her warm. Nephis and Cassie, however, weren't so fortunate.
Sleep was scarce. Every distant rumble of thunder, every gust of wind rattling their shelter, kept them teetering on the edge of unrest. The night stretched long, and in its depths, a quiet rustling reached Ares' ears—soft, hesitant, deliberate.
He did not move.
He did not need to.
A presence lingered beside him, close but uncertain. A breath of hesitation filled the space between them, and then—a hand.
It hovered near him, fingers curling and uncurling as if second-guessing their own purpose. A ghost of warmth, an inch from contact, wavering in indecision. Then, at last, the barest touch—a whisper against his arm, so light it could have been imagined. But it was real.
The hand flinched back immediately, retreating as though it had touched fire. Silence. Then, emboldened by the lack of reaction, it returned, grazing his skin again—lingering this time, testing, exploring.
A pause.
Then, a slow, deliberate movement.
Fingertips traced along his forearm, featherlight, following the contours of muscle and vein. Each motion was hesitant, tentative, as if savoring every ridge and curve. The touch was neither urgent nor hurried, but patient—almost reverent. A slow unveiling of something unspoken.
The hand hesitated again as it neared his wrist, fingers trembling slightly before pressing forward. Another pause. A moment of doubt. Then, the pads of those cool fingers brushed against his palm, skimming along the lines etched into his skin.
A shudder.
A withdrawal.
A return.
Soft, ghosting movements, mapping the warmth of his skin, absorbing it as if drawing from a source of comfort.
And then, the fingers drifted lower, grazing his own, nudging, almost inviting. Another hesitation—one final moment of wavering uncertainty. But then, as if desire won, it moved again with a quiet resolve, the fingers slipped between his, interlocking in a slow, careful weave.
Ares could feel it all.
The slight tremors. The hesitant grip that spoke of uncertainty, curiosity, a silent plea wrapped in shame and something more—something deeper, more fragile. The coldness of the hand, stark against his own warmth, as if it had never known heat before.
He did not pull away.
Instead, he let his fingers curl gently around the smaller hand, tightening ever so slightly, allowing his warmth to seep into its icy skin. A silent offering. A quiet acceptance.
For a moment, there was only the storm and the fragile connection between them.
But all moments, no matter how delicate, must come to an end.
*Cough*
The sound shattered the stillness. The hand jolted, withdrawing so quickly it was as if it had never been there at all.
Slowly, Ares cracked open an eye, just enough to catch the source of the interruption.
Not far away, a pale girl with long, ink-black hair lay on the bed of damp seaweed. Her eerie dark eyes were fixed on him—or more specifically, his now-empty hand.
Her gaze flickered toward the other figure, sharp and knowing, before a slow, satisfied smirk curled at the edge of her lips, replacing her scowl.
Her fake cough had done its job.
Satisfied, she turned away, shutting her eyes as if nothing had happened.
Ares huffed a quiet breath, exhaling through his nose, before closing his eyes once more.
The night was still long. And though the cold remained, for a fleeting moment, something else had existed within it—something fragile, something warm.
###########################
#########################
The sun rose once more, casting its pale light over the group as they ate a moderate breakfast before setting out on their next mission: into the depths of the Coral Labyrinth to hunt and grow stronger.
After descending the hill, they marched deeper into the labyrinth, with Ares and Nephis at the front, and Sunny holding the golden rope to guide Cassie through the winding path behind them.
Before long, they encountered their first target: an Awakened Carapace Scavenger—a beast encased in thick, armored plating, its pincers sharp enough to tear through anything in its path. Cassie was hidden into the shadows, while Ares, Nephis, and Sunny stood ready for the encounter.
As Ares stepped forward, his compression shirt transformed, instantly shifting into dark crimson armor, hugging his form like a second skin. The moment the beast laid eyes on him, it charged forward with a blood-curdling screech, its massive pincers swinging toward his head with terrifying force.
The beast's pincers were like mountains, aimed to crush Ares's skull in one blow. But Ares merely watched it approach, his gaze filled with quiet curiosity. He tilted his head slightly, the corners of his lips curling into the faintest of smiles.
Then, the world seemed to slow.
The creature's pincers froze mid-air, the shock of their movement stalling as though time itself had bent around Ares. The beast screeched, its pincers trembling violently as they struggled against an invisible force. It was as if countless spears pierced its very being, their presence only felt in the cold, agonizing tension that gripped its body. The beast's attempt to strike was futile, halted by an overwhelming aura of terror emanating from Ares.
With the beast stunned, Ares moved with a fluidity that could only be described as unnatural. The crimson armor around him tightened, as his fist shot forward, slamming into the creature's pincers with the force of a cannonball.
BOOM!
The impact sent the beast flying back, one of its pincers shattering like glass, while the other cracked and barely held together. Before it could recover, Nephis's sword sliced through the air, her blade severing the remaining pincer in one swift motion. The beast was disarmed and disoriented, a mere shell of its former strength.
Now desperate, the beast attempted to trample Nephis with its massive bulk, but it was already too late. From the darkness, death emerged—a silent, shadowy figure.
Sunny, her figure blending into the shadows, appeared behind the beast without a sound. Her movement was like that of a predator, fluid and silent, her azure blade gleaming in the dim light.
With a single, precise thrust, she drove the blade into the back of the beast's head, slipping it through its skull like a whisper. The beast fell limp, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap.
The three of them stood in the aftermath, silently collecting the spoils of their kill. They could have finished the fight far quicker—Ares alone could have taken down the beast in moments—but their goal today was to perfect their teamwork, to refine their coordination as a group.
They repeated the process over the course of the day, but there were few beasts to be found. Each battle was swift, their enemies barely able to mount a defense before being overwhelmed by the combined might of the group. The beasts, no matter how strong, were nothing more than playthings in the demons's hands.
The day ended with them returning to their hill, eating and sharing their spoils, before starting to think of their next step.
The plan was to go as far away from the shark and the hundreds of scavengers feasting on it as possible.
Yet the plan was scraped the moment Cassie woke up the very next day.
####################
Jelly Sunny and mysterious hand~