The First Men Chronicles

Chapter 19: Decisions and Connections

Cregan and Sakamoto stepped into the expansive, ornate office of Bartoni, the President of the Hunter Association. The room was lined with polished wooden shelves filled with books on Shen, and various Hunter history. Bartoni sat behind a large mahogany desk, his stern eyes immediately locking onto the two as they entered.

Cregan bowed slightly. "President Bartoni."

Sakamoto, however, remained silent, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, glaring at Cregan as if silently telling him to hurry up.

Bartoni's voice was calm but firm. "Why are you here, Cregan? And where's the rest of your team? Why are you alone?"

Cregan took a deep breath, glancing at Sakamoto briefly before explaining. "Orders from Feng, sir. He instructed me to return and report something urgent to you while he and Gong continued the mission for Draven."

Bartoni narrowed his eyes. "Go on."

Cregan began recounting the events at Eagle Island, describing the decayed village, the battle with the spirit, and the horrifying realization that the spirit in question was Jushin.

As soon as the name left Cregan's mouth, Bartoni abruptly stood up, his expression hardening. "Jushin?"

Cregan stepped in, explaining further. "Sir, Gong managed to seal Jushin inside Sakamoto, but the spirit is dangerous. When it leaves its host, it completely drains them of life. The old man it previously inhabited died the moment the spirit left."

Bartoni....." I see "

The intensity in Bartoni's voice made the room feel heavier, but Sakamoto rolled his eyes and interrupted. "Oh, relax. I've got it under control. No big deal."

Bartoni turned to Sakamoto, his voice sharp. "This isn't about whether you think you've got it under control. Jushin isn't just some spirit—it's an entity that once worked with Ichabod, one of the most dangerous figures in recorded history."

Before Bartoni could continue, Sakamoto cut him off, his tone annoyed. "Look, I don't care about Ichabod or ancient history. I want this thing out of me so I can kill it and move on."

Bartoni sighed and sat back down, his expression grim. " it doesn't work that way Sakamoto even though I'm aware of how you want it out of you,but it's not as simply as you think, the spirit cannot simply be removed, Sakamoto. If we pull it out now, you die. Is that a decision you're ready to make?"

Sakamoto's eyes narrowed, his voice steady but cold. "What's the alternative?"

Bartoni leaned forward, folding his hands. "You house it. Stay under the Hunter Association's care so we can monitor or…" He paused briefly. "You take the other route and die."

Sakamoto scoffed. "Wow. Great options."

Bartoni didn't flinch. "This spirit is unpredictable, Sakamoto. It's one of the Lost Powers—ancient entities.You're carrying something that could tip the scales in a way we can't fully comprehend."

The room fell silent as the weight of Bartoni's words settled. Sakamoto finally straightened up, his tone resolute. "Here's the thing. I've already decided. I'm going back to the tournament."

Cregan's eyes widened, and Bartoni raised an eyebrow, silently evaluating Sakamoto's decision.

"Very well," Bartoni said after a moment. "Let's see what happens when you fight with it inside you."

As Sakamoto turned to leave, Bartoni addressed Cregan. "And Feng? Where is he now?"

Cregan replied, "He continued the mission to retrieve Draven."

Bartoni nodded slowly. "Understood. Keep me updated on his progress."

The Tournament Break

The tournament arena had taken a break, and the once-roaring crowd had dispersed into the surrounding food courts, lounges, and merchandise stands. The air was filled with chatter and the scent of fried snacks.

Chiro sat in the cafeteria, quietly slurping down a bowl of Chinese noodles. Her calm demeanor contrasted with the lively buzz around her.

As she ate, Vincent strolled in, his steps deliberate and casual. Spotting Chiro, he approached her table. "Chiro," he began, sitting across from her uninvited. "Your abilities have peaked my interest. Rare to see a fighter with such precision. But tell me, is someone as skilled as you… involved with anyone?"

Chiro paused mid-bite, a faint smirk curling her lips. "Not at the moment," she said, amused.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Really? With your talent, I figured you'd have no shortage of admirers."

Chiro chuckled, brushing his comment off. "I prefer keeping things simple. People complicate life. Fighting, though—that's straightforward."

Vincent extended a hand, and the two exchanged a firm handshake. "Fair enough," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

As they spoke, Tito walked by, his towering presence drawing attention. Chiro glanced at him and commented, "That guy is something else. Word is one of the Hunter Houses already picked him while we're sitting here."

Before Vincent could respond, the cafeteria doors slammed open with a loud bang. Heads turned as Sakamoto strolled in, yawning loudly. "Man, I'm starving!"

He made his way to the counter, ordering six large bowls of meat soup. When the food arrived, he devoured it all in under a minute, earning a mix of stares and chuckles from those around him. Even Chiro and Vincent couldn't help but watch, bemused by his display.

Vincent muttered, "Who the hell is this guy?"

Chiro smirked. "Whoever he is, he's definitely… different."

In the quiet of the hospital wing, Mori's eyes fluttered open. The faint hum of medical equipment surrounded him, and the soft glow of healing Shen energy still lingered in the air.

Two Medic Hunters nearby noticed the movement and exchanged glances.

"Finally awake," one of them said, approaching the bed.

"How's he looking?" the other asked.

"Better than expected. His injuries weren't as severe as we thought. He'll make a full recovery," the first medic replied.

Mori groaned, shifting slightly in the bed. His voice was hoarse but steady. "Where am I?"

"You're in the tournament's medical wing," the medic said. "Don't move too much. You need rest."

Mori stared at the ceiling, his mind racing as fragments of his fight with Tito came back to him. His fists clenched slightly, and he muttered, "Tito… I'm not done with you."

The medics exchanged looks, one of them muttering, "Yep, he's fine."