Bloody Awakening

"Sir?" Ulah ventured a question to the creature.

Silence followed his inquiry, broken only by a low, menacing growl. Then, without warning, the creature lunged at Ulah, its head swollen and grotesque. 

Ulah's instincts kicked in, and he swung a fierce fist at the creature's head. It was a bizarre sensation; the creature's head expanded as if it was swollen, distorting its appearance. Ulah's blow connected, but it seemed to have little effect. He nimbly dodged several incoming strikes from the fast-moving entity, making it crash into the alley wall, inflicting damage upon itself.

Realizing that he needed space to breathe, Ulah carefully stepped backward, putting some distance between him and the creature. The creature stood still, unresponsive. Ulah saw a discarded metal pole nearby. It was his only hope. 

Approaching the motionless creature, he hesitated for a moment, realizing the gravity of his actions. The creature's swollen head appeared like a grotesque mockery of humanity. Yet, Ulah knew that his life was at stake, and he grabbed the metal pole.

With a burst of determination, he thrust the pole into the creature's head. A gruesome explosion followed as the swollen head burst open, showering the alley with brains and fluids, covering Ulah in a horrifying shower of gore. His eyes widened with shock as he stared at the grotesque scene, the blood dripping from his hair and onto the ground.

Although the creature's head was destroyed, its lifeless body still stood upright, like a headless mannequin. Ulah dropped the bloodied pole and stepped back, shuddering at the horrific sight before him.

The street outside the alley was relatively quiet, with a few passersby and cars, but no authorities in sight. Ulah hastily collected the Estreodilla Bonbons from the ground, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline. 

As he fled the scene, his thoughts were consumed by the gravity of his actions. "Did I just… kill someone?" he whispered to himself, sweat pouring down his brow. He was bewildered, unable to fully comprehend the events that had transpired.

Meanwhile, hidden from view, the shadowy figures observed Ulah's actions.

"It didn't work," one voice remarked.

"Of course, it didn't work," replied another. "He doesn't know how to use his powers fully. His strength is there, but he lacks control. What were you thinking?"

"Quite terrifying, don't you think?" observed a third voice.

"What?" inquired another figure.

"He could accidentally kill someone, and then he'd become a target for the School of Arcane."

"True," agreed the second voice. "But for now, we need to continue exposing him to various conditions until he activates his full potential. If he doesn't, we'll have to intervene."

"It's frustrating," the first voice admitted. "I don't enjoy this, but it's for the greater good and our mission."

"Agreed," the second voice said, and then turned to the third figure. "No more casualties. I promise. If a situation like this arises again—no, we won't place him in that position."

"That's correct," added the third figure.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, Ulah finally arrived at Mr. Tumi's house. He knocked on the door and was relieved to see Mrs. Tumi beside her husband. She held him close, as if these were their last moments together, her head resting gently on his chest.

Ulah entered the house, rolling in the basket of Estreodilla Bonbons. Mrs. Tumi, upon hearing the door open, rushed down the steps and noticed a hand reaching in.

She started to jump on the intruding hand, trying to alert the person behind it. The hand quickly withdrew, and she walked outside to confront Ulah.

"You," she said, her tone far from pleased.

"I brought fruits for Mr. Tumi," Ulah said, nervously stammering. "Could you please give these to him? I'm truly sorry for what happened earlier. It was my fau—"

"Just hand them over," Mrs. Tumi interrupted, her frustration apparent.

Ulah handed the basket of fruits to her, and she began taking them inside one by one since the basket was quite large. The last fruit found its place within the house, and Mrs. Tumi promptly followed it. She shut the door on Ulah without uttering a word.

Ulah's expression fell once more, and he felt far from accomplished. He sat on the ground near the treehouse, his curly hair still matted with the blood that had splattered over him. He sat in contemplation, uncertain of his next move.

"What happens now?" he wondered aloud.

A response came, not from within the alley, but from unseen figures observing his every move.

"My plant?" one voice asked. "For now, it'll regrow, stronger and out of sight of the sentinel. We'll keep pushing the boy until he reacts with pure magic against it."

"What if he gets to the Staff before us?" another voice questioned, concerned.

"That won't happen," came the stern reply. "We need to gauge his magic potential. Even if he were to obtain the Staff, he wouldn't know how to wield its power effectively. We must seize this opportunity to collect the remaining relics. I won't let the sentinel's arrogance stand in our way."

Saphir looked at Erlixius with curiosity. "Hm, okay," he responded, a hint of doubt in his tone.

Ulah rose from the ground, his previous melancholy expression replaced by determination. He began

 to walk away, but a voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Tumi asked, stepping out to address him.

"I don't know," Ulah replied with a touch of bitterness. "I guess I'm just... lost. I have no reason to be here anymore."

"Alan wants to talk to you," Mrs. Tumi informed him.

"Who's Alan?" Ulah inquired, puzzled.

"Come on out," Mrs. Tumi said, turning to Mr. Tumi. His bunny ears were slightly shorter than usual, and his face had taken on a more human appearance.

"We need to talk," Mr. Tumi stated in a deeper, darker tone. "About your future here and what lies ahead for you."

Ulah squinted his eyes as he tried to piece together the unfolding events.

---

Mr. Tumi led Ulah back through the wheat field where they had first met. As they continued walking, they arrived in a vast field, but this one was covered in flat grass.

Mr. Tumi gestured for Ulah to sit beside him on the ground, as if it were an intervention. Ulah, though wary, was willing to hear what he had to say.

"Okay, now what? But before you speak, I just want to say that I've been through so much that I don't think I can't handle any—"

"I understand," Mr. Tumi interrupted, his voice holding a note of empathy. "But what you've brought into this world has changed the dynamics of Kresa forever."

"Why?" Ulah inquired, perplexed.

"The Staff is one of the thirteen mystical relics in the universe," Mr. Tumi explained.

"Thirteen weapons? How do you know they exist?" Ulah asked with curiosity.

"I was once the Mage Sentinel, the most knowledgeable magus of all time. It was during a different era, a time when Kresa thrived," Mr. Tumi began. "I stopped the very force behind the Seven-Star Knights, and well... it's a long story. Perhaps one day, I'll share the full tale with you, but for now, let me tell you about your place in this."

Ulah's intrigue grew as he listened, eager to understand his role in the unfolding narrative of the thirteen mystical relics.