Ashen Requiem
Chapter 56: The Beast and The Witch

Chapter 56: The Beast and The Witch

Dante walked the halls beside Shigeo, though his mind felt far away, distant from the constant buzz surrounding them.

Bulletin boards were cluttered with colorful flyers promoting every kind of club : sports, strategy, cooking, drama...

— "How about the archaeology club ?" Shigeo suggested, waving a sign-up form with a hopeful grin. "You like mysterious stuff, don’t you ?"

Dante slowly turned his head, eyes half-lidded.

— "I can already read the languages of the Old World and ancient scripts,it is neither a passion nor a pleasure."

Shigeo sighed and crossed the line off his list.

— "Literature club ?"

— "Not interested in listening to people pretend they understand texts they skimmed between lunch breaks."

— "Tactical strategy club ?"

— "Too many board games. Not enough real life."

As they turned into a dimly-lit corridor, Dante suddenly stopped.

His eyes locked onto the wall. Plain at first glance—but it radiated something else. An aura.

— "Wait—where are you going ?!" Shigeo yelped, panic creeping into his voice.

But Dante was already gone, swallowed by the winding halls.

He pushed open a door and stepped into a modest room.

A circular rug, a few cushions, a dusty bookshelf, extinguished candles in the corners. And three people.

One was scrawny, wearing a red armband bearing the student council emblem.

His spiritual presence was nonexistent, but his arrogance filled the room.

Next to him stood a massive guy, arms crossed, radiating oppressive spiritual pressure.

And across from them, seated cross-legged with calm defiance, was a girl.

Ebony skin, violet eyes, slim build. GianaDaSilva. A still presence that masked a storm beneath.

The scrawny one sneered.

— "You know you can’t run a club with just one member.

You’ve got twenty-four hours to shut this down. Journalism club’s claiming the room."

He looked around with obvious contempt. — "And your little ’spirituality club’? Everyone knows it’s just a front for weird rituals.

Magic, mysticism... you’re opening doors we shouldn’t even be talking about. No wonder people call you thewitch."

Giana didn’t flinch. She sat unmoved, breathing slowly, fingers resting on her knees.

There was tension in the air, like a long-held breath that hadn’t yet been released. Anyone else would’ve snapped. But not her.

The weasel turned to Dante.

— "And you ? What’re you doing here ? You don’t exactly hang with the outcasts."

Dante stared at him, calm and unfazed.

— "I’m here to join."

Silence.

Even the muscular guy raised an eyebrow.

— "What?!" the scrawny one choked. "You serious? You know who you are, right? You’re not really signing up for this dumpster fire? Everyone avoids this club!"

Dante didn’t blink. His voice was even, his stare steady and intimidating.

— "I said what I said."

The weasel scowled, looked between Giana and Dante, and groaned.

— "Do whatever you want. This club’s dead anyway." He stormed out, the silent giant walking behind.

Peace returned. Giana stood up slowly.

— "Thanks, my name is Giana. But... I know you only said that to defuse the situation. You don’t have to stay."

— "Dante, Dante Godwin."

She lingered, gaze wandering the dusty corners, as if searching for the right words.

— "I guess you deserve to know—if you’re really staying."

Dante leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.

— "You want to know why this club matters to me. Why I humiliated myself begging a stranger ?"

She met his gaze with a bitter half-smile.

— "I was born in Duraand. Over there, people didn’t pray to gods. They prayed to the local mafia, the Caledron. You’ve probably heard—they were dismantled after that horrific incident."

— "Oh?!" He thought.

She paused, hugging her arms around herself.

— "I wanted to be a hero. The kind from the stories. The one who shines even when covered in filth. But... that wasn’t for me."

She shook her head.

— "I tried everything. The army—rejected. White energy temples ? Even the church said I had no affinity. Corrupted Lands ? Even with black energy, I was just a pebble in a river."

A cynical smirk tugged her lips.

— "Then I realized. I wasn’t meant to be a hero. Not the way they define it."

She turned to a small altar, gently brushing an unlit candle.

— "So I searched elsewhere. Studied forbidden texts, outlawed traditions, astral meditation. I sharpened my mind since my body failed me."

She closed her eyes briefly.

— "One day, my aura changed. It mimicked a power, but it was magic. Just enough to fool the tests."

— "So you fake having a gift?" Dante asked.

— "Yes."

She sat back down, fingers laced.

— "I created this club to find others like me."

She looked up at him.

— "At first, people came. But the moment I talked too much about magic, about becoming something without permission—they left."

Her smile cracked.

— "Because people fear what they don’t understand."

— "I never had an awakening, Dante. And I probably never will. I’m an anomaly in a world that wants to erase me."

He stayed silent, watching her.

She exhaled, wearied.

— "So I poured everything into this place. My heart, my energy, my faith. If I lose this club... I lose everything."

She shrugged.

— "And I know you don’t need me. Your aura’s refined—your meditation must be on another level. It’s like the gods blessed you."

— "I wouldn’t call it a blessing, Idon’tbelieveinanygod." Dante replied simply.

Giana let out a weak laugh.

— "Maybe it’s your hard work. But it’s powerful. And you still have a choice. Me ? I only have this room."

She lowered her head.

— "That’s why I begged you. Not because I’m weak. Because I’m alone."

Dante tilted his head.

— "You’re strong—and way too honest. You shouldn’t spill everything to strangers. I could’ve been anyone."

She offered a sad half-smile.

— "Maybe. But I’ve got nothing left to lose. This club... was all I had."

She dropped to her knees, trembling slightly. — "Please. Help me save it."

Dante stood still, then extended his hand. Her eyes widened in surprise.

— "Looks like the stars aligned in your favor. I’m the perfect person for this."

She rose. Her hands were cold, her eyes wet.

He studied her briefly, then added :

— "We’ll do better. We’ll start a new club. Meditation club. New name, clean slate. We will combine our two passions, helping and training."

She nodded slowly, overwhelmed.

— "You know that’s against the rules. Officially, they say meditation’s already part of the curriculum. They call clubs like this unnecessary."

— "No. They say that because they want us to stay dependent on their systems."

He turned toward the door.

— "We’ll find members. We’ll find a room. Leave that to me."

Giana watched him, breath caught. For the first time in ages, she felt something other than abandonment.

She felt the beginning of a miracle.

And she saw him for what he was : her guardian angel.

---

Shigeo jogged nervously through the corridors of the school building, eyes locked on the digital map of the facility.

He swiped across the screen, scrolling through room numbers and floors, then checked his smart watch with a frown.

He tapped the call icon.

— "Come on, pick up, Dante..."

Call dropped.

His brows furrowed. He tried again and again. Same result.

— "You’ve gotta be kidding me," he muttered. "Are you fighting someone? Meditating in a cave?"

---

Meanwhile, in Dante’s room, Ginny—currently in her obese black cat form—sat like a royal blob on the bed, belly tucked in a perfect ball, holding a gaming controller in her tiny clawed paws.

Half-lidded eyes scanned Dante’s phone.

— "Him again... tsk. That pitiful servant dares to interrupt my game?"

She answered coldly. Then hung up just as fast, her feline eyes full of contempt.

— "Pathetic. Go pet some wires, loser."

She bit into a chip.

---

Shigeo sighed for what must have been the twentieth time.

Now he was dragging his feet through a hallway he didn’t even recognize.

Until, on a whim, he opened a random door.

And immediately got punched in the face by the raw smell of testosterone and suffering.

Sweat, shouting, weights slamming the ground. He’d stumbled into the bodybuilding club.

Shigeo instinctively stepped back—but too late.

A massive hand landed on his shoulder like a sandbag. He turned slowly, panic rising in his eyes.

— "Yo! You new around here?" boomed a loud, energetic voice. "You’ve got that just-hatched chick vibe! Haha!"

The man was huge. Spiked, fiery-orange hair. A wild, toothy grin. Eyes that screamed let’s spar.

He radiated joy and protein powder.

— "Uh... I... I’m looking for someone." Shigeo stammered.

— "Name’s Gintoki! Club prez of the Bodybuilding Bros and future intercontinental arm-wrestling champ!"

— "Nice to meet you... I’m Shigeo... I’m just looking for Dante. Has he been by?"

But Gintoki wasn’t really listening. He was scanning Shigeo’s skinny frame, hunched posture, oversized shirt.

— "You don’t look too sturdy. You eat right? Get enough fiber? Do planks? How many sets on inverted-pyramid incline press?"

— "Uh... I just have a stationary bike at home..."

— "Shameful! For a Genesis student? Nah man, we gotta mold you from scratch, little bro!"

Before Shigeo could protest, the club members had closed in.

Some were lifting weights. Others cracked their knuckles. All looked like gym-built golems.

— "He’s scrawny," one said. "But with the right anabolic regimen, we can make him a beast."

— "He’s protein-deficient. Bet he lives off energy bars..."

— "I can see it in his eyes! He’s got potential. We just gotta dig it out!"

Shigeo tried backing away.

— "I-I’m already in the Tech & Science Club... I don’t think I’m allowed to—"

One upperclassman cut in, voice bitter.

— "That club? Pfft. They stole my blueprints and tanked my year. Zero ethics. Hope you didn’t put too much faith in them..."

Another guy—his chest so inflated he looked like a walking truck bumper—added :

— "I left after they rejected my arm-wrestling robot project. Said it was ’useless.’ Those science geeks fear real power."

— "Nokidding..." Shigeo thought, sweating bullets.

He was spiraling. Trying to smile. His cheeks twitching with social anxiety.

— "I’m just a nerd. Why the hell did I open that damn door ?"

Then Gintoki clapped once—sharp and loud.

Everything stopped.

— "Brothers! Time to invoke... the ultimate trial : THE FOOD BATTLE!"

Gasps. Shock. Reverence.

— "No way..."

— "He’s really doing it?"

— "The sacred duel..."

Shigeo blinked.

— "The... what?"

Gintoki grinned like a madman.

— "The FOOD BATTLE! Eat till your stomach taps out! If you lose... you’re one of us!"

Shigeo swallowed hard.

— "You’re kidding, right?"

Five minutes later, he was seated at a long table. Mountains of noodles, curry, meat, rice...

And fifteen minutes after that, Shigeo lay on the ground, belly bloated, eyes blank. Fully K.O’d.

— "HE’S ONE OF US!" Gintoki roared like a warlord. "WELCOME TO THE CREW, SHIGEO-KUN!"

The muscle squad broke into some kind of bizarre protein dance.

Shigeo, half-conscious, mumbled :

— "Why... why me..."

But the party was cut short.

A new figure entered, calm and imposing. Dante. His eyes landed on Shigeo’s crumpled body.

— "What did you do to him ?" He asked, voice cold.

Gintoki lit up.

— "WHOA! You’re that convoy guy! Join our club! Let’s do a death-match food battle!"

Dante narrowed his eyes, a wicked grin creeping in.

— "Alright. But if I win... you shave your head."

Gasps.

— "That bet..."

— "He’s insane..."

— "No one’s ever beaten Gintoki..."

Ten minutes later...

Gintoki was on his knees, mumbling between hiccups, noodles hanging from his ears.

Dante calmly finished his last bowl.

— "You lost."

— "...I’ll go get the razor."