As Tristan gazed at the weathered wooden gates, a rush of memories flooded his mind, each one tinged with a sense of longing and regret. He never imagined he'd find himself back at this place, his father's estate, yet here he stood, unable to escape the pull of the past.
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Loraura's voice broke through his reverie, her concern evident as she addressed him. "Tristan?" she ventured softly, her eyes reflecting the worry she felt for him.
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Turning to face her, Tristan forced a smile, masking the turmoil within. "Well, welcome home," he replied, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.
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Loraura's genuine enthusiasm for the estate contrasted sharply with Tristan's internal turmoil. "This place is amazing," she remarked with genuine excitement, her eyes sparkling with wonder.
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But as Tristan surveyed the deteriorating state of the once-grand residence, he couldn't share in her optimism. The gates, worn and weary, seemed to sag under the weight of their history, while the walls, once pristine, now bore the scars of neglect.
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"Amazing isn't quite the word I'd use," Tristan murmured, his voice tinged with resignation.
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Undeterred by his somber mood, Loraura stepped forward, her hand resting gently on the aging wood of the door. "I can feel them," she whispered, her eyes closing as if to better grasp the echoes of the past. "The many memories created here in this place."
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Tristan's gaze softened as memories flooded back at Loraura's mention. "Memories, huh?" His voice carried a hint of nostalgia, accompanied by a gentle chuckle. "Yeah, I suppose there are," he admitted, a warm smile gracing his lips.
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"Tristan?" Loraura's voice broke through his reverie, drawing his attention upward.
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Tristan followed her gaze to a weathered wooden sign above the entrance, its characters etched with precision.
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"Kami Oni No Ken," she read aloud, her tone resonating with recognition.
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"Yeah," Tristan affirmed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It means..."
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"Divine Demon Fist," Loraura interjected, her familiarity with the language evident.
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Turning to face him, she posed the question that had been nagging at her. "Why is such a name engraved on this place?"
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Tristan met her gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of memories and emotions. Though he couldn't fathom her interest, he felt compelled to share.
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"It's my father," Tristan began, his voice tinged with both fondness and irony. "He's always been more devoted to martial arts than to me, his own son."
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With a wry smirk, he continued, recounting his father's unwavering passion for the discipline and the creation of his own fighting style.
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"Kami Oni No Ken," Tristan explained, his tone carrying a hint of pride. "It's the name of his style. And this place... this is where it all began."
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Tristan fell into silence, his movements deliberate as he approached the imposing door, a formidable barrier of thick Puritan pine wood and reinforced steel. Though meant to withstand the strength of a dozen men, Tristan understood the true significance behind the closed door—it was more than just a physical barrier. It was a trial, a testament to the worthiness of those who sought passage. Only the resilient and determined would earn the privilege of entry.
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With a deep inhale, he closed his eyes, his hand finding its place upon the weathered surface of the door. Time seemed to stand still as Tristan's concentration deepened. With every breath, every heartbeat, his focus intensified
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In an instant, Tristan's eyes snapped open, his hand surging with power as his hand pushed against the door. With a thunderous crash, the door yielded, unleashing a rush of wind that whipped past Loraura, a tangible manifestation of Tristan's mastery.
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As the gate swung open before them, revealing the secrets behind, Loraura's gaze lingered on Tristan, his hand trembling with the strain of his exertion.
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"Dammit," Tristan muttered to himself as a surge of pain shot through his right hand. "I must be more out of practice than I thought if opening a simple door is causing me trouble," he reflected, frustration simmering beneath the surface.
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Flexing his fingers and clenching them into a fist, Tristan sought to alleviate the discomfort that pulsed through his hand. Each movement served as a makeshift remedy, a temporary relief from the persistent ache.
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With determined steps, he advanced toward the imposing temple that loomed ahead, its weathered façade bearing witness to years of neglect and solitude.
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To his right, three weather-worn wooden poles stood sentinel, their sturdy frames wrapped in thick coils of rope. To his left, ancient trees stretched skyward, their gnarled branches reaching towards the heavens, guardians of the forest's secrets.
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"It's been a long time," Tristan remarked softly, a nostalgic smile playing upon his lips. "A very long time."
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Loraura's voice broke through his reverie, drawing his attention to her presence at his side.
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"Tristan?" she called, concern etched in her features as she glanced at his trembling hand.
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"Huh?" Tristan replied, turning to meet her gaze.
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"Did you hurt your hand?" Loraura inquired, her eyes focused on the source of his discomfort.
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"It's nothing serious," Tristan reassured her with a strained laugh, attempting to downplay the pain.
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Unperturbed, Loraura's smile remained unwavering as she pressed on. "May I see your hand?" her request gentle yet insistent, leaving Tristan with little room to refuse.
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As Loraura grasped Tristan's hand, a gentle pale blue glow enveloped them both, casting an ethereal aura around their intertwined fingers.
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Tristan blinked, his gaze drawn to the mesmerizing light. "Huh," he murmured, leaning in for a closer look. Within the luminous glow, he discerned intricate symbols dancing in and out of existence, their otherworldly beauty captivating his senses.
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Gradually, the light dimmed, fading into the recesses of memory as Loraura released his hand.
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Tristan flexed his fingers experimentally, disbelief evident in his expression. "The pain's gone," he marveled, turning to face Loraura, who regarded him with a knowing smile.
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"Thank you," he said earnestly, gratitude shining in his eyes.
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"You're welcome," Loraura replied, her voice gentle yet filled with reassurance, their connection forged in shared understanding and acceptance.
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Tristan and Loraura shifted their focus back to the temple grounds, surveying the daunting task that lay before them.
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Tristan scratched his head, exhaling deeply. "Looks like there's a jungle of weeds, fallen leaves everywhere, and even the roof needs some serious TLC," he remarked with a hint of exasperation. "This is going to be quite the project."
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Stepping forward, Loraura turned to face Tristan, her presence drawing his attention. "But if we tackle it together, the work will fly by," she suggested optimistically. "And who knows, we might even have some fun along the way."
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Tristan felt the weight of annoyance dissipate as he met Loraura's gaze. "Well, I can't argue with that logic," he admitted with a chuckle. "Let's roll up our sleeves and get to it, then."
***
Author notes: Please support my work on Patreon for early access to new chapters. https://patreon.com/DarkMatteromniverse
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