Takeru leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, staring at Kain as though weighing whether he was insane or just brutally honest.
A long moment passed. Then Takeru gave a weak laugh, shaking his head. "I almost wish I was sober for this. Because if this is a dream, it’s the strangest one I’ve ever had."
"It’s not a dream," Kain said quietly. "But it could be the start of something worth waking up for."
That line seemed to pierce through the last of the fog clouding Takeru’s thoughts. He stared at Kain, searching his expression for deceit, finding none. Finally, with a humorless sigh, he said, "Let’s say, for the sake of argument, I agree. What would you even need from me?"
"Nothing that you probably wouldn’t want to do anyways," Kain said.
Takeru stared for another long moment, then gave a dry chuckle. "I’ve already lost everything else. What’s one more risk?"
He extended a hand. "Fine. Do it. Whatever this is."
Kain looked down at the offered hand for a moment, then clasped it firmly.
Takeru forced a grin. "Well, thankfully I’m drunk enough that whatever’s about to happen should be nicely dulled to my senses."
Kain blinked, then frowned in realization. "Actually, that’s a problem."
Takeru froze. "...Why?"
"Because it won’t work properly if you’re drunk," Kain said, rubbing his temple as old memories surfaced. The first time he tested the process of creating beast tamers—on Ferrin—he’d dulled Ferrin’s pain using Bea. Compared to later attempts without Bea’s help, Ferrin’s soul in Pangea was weaker and didn’t have as much time to find a contract. It’s even possible that his contract’s potential suffered for it...
Takeru stared, half-amused and half-horrified. "You’re saying I have to be sober for soul pain?"
"Afraid so," Kain replied dryly. "Looks like we have to wait before conducting the ’ritual’."
Unfortuantely, Bea could clear Takeru’s mind, but she couldn’t burn the alcohol out of his body. Since there was a chance that any kind of sedative in his system, even if Bea makes it less effective, would dampen the effect, he chose to be safe rather than sorry.
The prince groaned and dropped back into his chair. "Great. Guess I’ll enjoy my last few hours of comfort, then."
------------------------------
By the time Takeru sobered up, the lanterns outside had long burned out. The faint gray of dawn leaked through the paper windows, brushing across the room in muted light. Empty bottles lay stacked neatly in the corner—Kain had made him clean them while waiting, a small distraction from his nerves.
Kain sat at the table, calmly inspecting a set of tools laid out before him. Among them was a small, metallic device shaped like a pen, its end tipped with a thin, gleaming needle etched with faint runic patterns. The soft hum of spiritual energy vibrated from it.
Takeru stared at the object as if it were a venomous beast. "That’s... a tattoo gun?"
"Of sorts," Kain said. "It helps channel energy into a physical medium while I bridge the connection."
The prince swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "You didn’t mention the needle part earlier."
Kain didn’t look up. "You didn’t ask."
Takeru’s shoulders stiffened. The faint whine of the energized needle filled the air, and he began to tense instinctively, gripping the armrest of his chair until his knuckles whitened.
Serena leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watching with detached amusement. "Relax, he’s not going to kill you."
"Easy for you to say," Takeru muttered, eyes still fixed on the needle. "You’re not the one about to be stabbed repeatedly by it."
Kain ignored the remark, his expression unreadable. "Bea," he said quietly. A faint brush to his mind came as a response.
"Make sure no one comes near the house," Kain instructed. "They’ll probably hear his screams from outside."
That last part snapped Takeru’s attention from the needle to Kain’s face. "...Wait, what did you just say?"
Kain didn’t answer, too focused on aligning the needle’s spiritual array with that in the sigil gun. This was a special tattoo gun he’d had commissioned to make the ease of using his spiritual power to draw arrays much easier.
Takeru sat up straight, his breathing picking up. "Screams? As in my screams?!"
Kain hid a smirk. "Well, you did say you were ready. And I did warn you that it’d be painful."
"I was drunk at the time!" Takeru hissed. "Now I’ll have to feel everything!"
Kain adjusted the settings with clinical detachment. "You’ll be fine. Probably."
"Probably?!"
Kain finally looked up, his calm tone doing little to help. "You agreed to this. Don’t back out now."
Bea’s faint whisper brushed the air like a breeze. "It’s ready."
Kain nodded, then turned to the pale-faced prince. "Last chance to change your mind."
Takeru hesitated, heart pounding. His mouth opened, but no words came out. After a few seconds, he clenched his fists and forced himself to nod. "Do it before I start thinking again."
Kain’s expression softened just slightly. "Good."
The needle flared to life, glowing with faint light—Kain spiritual power—and the first stroke burned like a whip striking his soul
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
---------------------
The sound of whimpers filled the room—soft, pitiful, almost canine—assuming someone could bypass Bea’s efforts to keep others away and get close enough to hear, they might imagine a neglected puppy enduring punishment.
But if one were to peek inside, they’d find no dog at all. The source of the whimpering was a grown man hunched in a chair.
Kain rolled his eyes, completely unimpressed by the sight of the tear-streaked prince. "Stop squirming. You’re only making it worse."
"I can’t help it!" Takeru gasped between shallow breaths, voice trembling. "It feels like you’re carving fire into my bones!"
Kain’s tone remained clinical. "That’s because I am. Now focus. Although you have no affinity, you should still have a trace of spiritual power."
"I—I do..." Takeru stammered, half-crying.
"Good. Then send it to the spot of the tattoo. Let it flow in to the mark."
Takeru, still sniffling, closed his eyes and followed the command. The moment his spiritual power touched the burning lines, the sigil flared to life—bright enough to fill the room with a searing orange glow. His scream caught in his throat, then faded to silence as his consciousness slipped away.