KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess

The fire crackled, sending sparks up toward the cave's ceiling. The light sent shadows dancing across the cave walls—a silent, breathing audience to their misery.

A soft groan made him turn.

Naomi's purple hair spread across the makeshift pillow he'd fashioned from his spare shirt. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened.

"Xavier?" Her voice came out as a rasp.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The sight of her conscious swapped one weight for another—the dread of her death for the burden of her survival. Relief was a currency he couldn't afford.

Naomi pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing. "Where—" She stopped, her eyes losing their unfocused glaze as the last few hours crashed down on her. The village. The Knight. The desperate escape through shadows. "Just us?"

"Just us."

She sat up fully, one hand pressed to her temple. "The others?"

Xavier's jaw clenched. "Gone."

Naomi absorbed this in silence. No tears, no dramatic outburst. Just a slow nod that acknowledged another weight added to the growing pile.

That same cold practicality that once drew him to her at the academy—now, it felt like salvation.

"How is she?" Naomi's attention shifted to Ashley's prone form.

Xavier followed her gaze. Ashley lay on the opposite side of the fire. The golden fractures beneath her skin pulsed in irregular patterns, sometimes bright enough to shine through the fabric. Her breathing was shallow, rapid.

"Bad."

Naomi struggled to her feet, swaying slightly. Xavier moved to steady her, but she waved him off. Her legs held, barely. She made her way around the fire to Ashley's side, kneeling carefully.

"Jesus," she whispered, seeing the damage up close.

The fractures weren't just light—they were heat. Steam rose from Ashley's skin despite the cave's chill. Her lips moved constantly, forming words too quiet to hear. Occasionally, her body would convulse, back arching off the ground as if she were being electrocuted.

"How long has she been like this?"

"Since we got here. Maybe an hour." Xavier crouched beside them, his voice low. "The tremors are getting stronger. Lasting longer."

Naomi reached out, then pulled her hand back as heat radiated from Ashley's forehead. "Her ability backfired. Guardian Covenant—she tried to absorb too much damage at once. Psychic feedback from multiple deaths."

"Can you fix it?"

"I'm no healer." Naomi's honesty was a clean, brutal edge. Welcome. ""But Nessa knew... something. Herbs. I have fragments of her knowledge."

"She's stuck in a loop," Naomi continued, studying Ashley's convulsions. "Reliving the moment her power failed. The deaths she couldn't prevent. We need to break the cycle somehow."

Ashley's back arched again, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

"What do you need?"

Naomi stood, already moving toward their scattered supplies. "First, we need to cool her down. That fever will kill her before the psychic damage does. Then..." She paused, pressing fingers to her temples. "Nessa knew plants. Calming herbs. There should be something growing even in winter."

"Tell me what to look for."

"Wintermint. Grows in patches near pine roots. Small leaves, silver-green color. Frost doesn't kill it." Naomi was already pulling items from their packs, sorting through what little they had. "And we need snow. Clean snow, not the stuff near the cave mouth."

For ten frantic minutes, Xavier found nothing but snow-dusted rock and barren earth. Then, just as he was about to abandon the search, he spotted it—a defiant patch of silver-green clustered at the base of a massive pine, exactly as Naomi had described.

The leaves were tough and waxy beneath his fingers, clinging stubbornly to life in the dead of winter. He worked quickly, his numb fingers plucking every leaf he could find while his breath formed ghostly clouds in the frigid air.

By the time he stumbled back into the cave, Naomi had transformed their pathetic supplies into something resembling a medical station: a small hunting knife with a worn handle, strips of cloth methodically torn from their spare clothing, and a dented tin cup that had seen better days.

"Good," Naomi said, taking the wintermint and examining it. "This should work. Nessa's memories are... fragmented, but the process is clear enough in my mind."

She began crushing the leaves between two smooth stones, grinding them into a rough paste. Xavier positioned the pot of snow near the fire to melt, then turned his attention back to Ashley's trembling form.

Another convulsion suddenly seized her body, more violent than the last. Her back arched unnaturally as golden fracture lines pulsed across her skin in chaotic patterns.

This one lasted nearly ten agonizing seconds.

"We need to keep her completely still," Naomi instructed without looking up from her work, her fingers stained green. "When I apply the poultice, she can't thrash around. The contact needs to be sustained or it's worthless."

Xavier positioned himself at Ashley's shoulders She was smaller than him, but the seizures gave her immense strength. "How long do we need to hold her?"

"Five minutes. Maybe ten."

The next convulsion started before Xavier could fully brace himself. Ashley's body went rigid beneath his hands, then began to buck violently against his restraint. He pressed down on her shoulders, trying to immobilize her without causing additional damage.

"Steady," Naomi said, moving to Ashley's side with the crushed wintermint. Her eyes held a strange mixture of clinical detachment and something almost like concern. "This is going to get worse before it gets better."

She began applying the paste, targeting the most prominent golden fracture lines—along Ashley's temples where they pulsed like veins, across her delicate collarbone, down her arms where the light burned brightest.

Xavier fought to keep her pinned as she thrashed. Her enhanced strength was gone—the backfired ability had burned through her reserves—but fear and pain made her desperate. Her nails raked across his arms, drawing blood.

"Hold her," Naomi commanded, applying more paste. "It's working. The fever's breaking."

Xavier could feel it—the intense heat radiating from Ashley's skin was starting to fade. The golden light flickered, patterns becoming less chaotic. But the convulsions weren't stopping.

"Xavier," Ashley gasped, her voice barely human. Her eyes found his, pupils returning in fits and starts. "They're still dying. Over and over. I can't—can't stop seeing—"

"You're safe. They're at peace."

"I failed them."

The words hit like a physical blow. Xavier's grip loosened for just a moment, and Ashley nearly pulled free. He caught her again, but her accusation echoed the same guilt that had been eating at him since the village.

"We both failed them," he said quietly.

Naomi shot him a look that could cut steel. He shut his mouth. She was right.

The melted snow was ready. Naomi soaked cloth strips in the warm water, wringing them out carefully. "Lift her head."

Xavier supported Ashley's neck as Naomi placed the warm compresses across her forehead and throat. The combination of wintermint paste and heat seemed to be working. The golden fractures were fading, becoming thin lines instead of blazing cracks.

"Better," Naomi murmured, checking Ashley's pulse.

An unspoken rhythm settled between them. Naomi would murmur, "Pulse is erratic," and Xavier would adjust his grip on Ashley's shoulders before the next tremor hit.

He'd feel the fever-heat lessen under his palms; she'd see it in the fading intensity of the golden fractures. When he passed her a strip of cloth, her hand was already there to take it.

"Tell me about the Knight," Naomi said as they worked. Her voice was clinical, but Xavier caught the undercurrent of fear.

"Ancient. Powerful enough that my best shot barely scratched its armor." Xavier shifted his grip as Ashley's breathing grew more regular. "It called me 'little king.' Said I carried someone else's essence."

"The Soul Mark?"

Xavier nodded. He'd told her about the permanent mark that had appeared on his status screen—The King's Gaze. "Whatever it did to me, it wasn't meant to kill. More like... marking territory."

"Or tagging a specimen."

For a moment, Xavier swore he could feel the cold mark on his soul twitch in agreement. It fit, and the realization was a worse chill than the one seeping from the cave floor.

Ashley's convulsions had stopped entirely. The golden light beneath her skin was barely visible now, just faint traces along her major arteries. Her breathing deepened, becoming natural sleep instead of unconscious collapse.

"That's it," Naomi said, sitting back on her heels. Exhaustion lined her face, but there was satisfaction there too. "She'll recover. Might have some lingering sensitivity to psychic trauma, but the worst is over."

Xavier released his hold on Ashley's shoulders, working feeling back into his hands. His arms ached from holding her steady, and the scratches she'd given him stung in the cold air.

"Thank you."

Naomi was already cleaning up their makeshift medical station. "Don't thank me yet. We're not out of this."

She was right. They had food for maybe two days, no transportation, and no clear idea where they were in relation to Hearthome. The Knight's mark on Xavier's soul was an unknown factor. Ashley would need time to recover before she could travel.

But they were alive. All three of them.

That had to count for something.