The shockwave from Mumu's punch hurled the Curse of Hatred across the void, its tendrils flailing as it skidded to a stop on its back, for once silenced by pain.

The Curse of Hatred's body rippled as it pulled itself upright from the ground. Its three clawed "hands" seemed to dig into the very shadows as it straightened, eyes burning narrower as they fixed on Mumu. Then its void-mouth twisted into something far more vicious than a grin—an inverted mockery of joy born from pure loathing.

"YOU INSIGNIFICANT WHELP!!!!!" It shrieked, the sound shredding the air like claws across metal.

For a heartbeat, it simply stared, panting shadow-fumes curling around its form. Then thoughts slammed through its mind in a frenzy, "How did that plush bear—of all things—hurt me!?" A being made of nightmares and void should be immune to such a simple, physical blow. Yet Mumu's punch had not only landed, it had seared into its shadow flesh.

It replayed the moment it struck—three clean slashes aimed at the bear—and recoiled at the undeniable truth. The wounds had never marked Mumu; instead, they'd carved gashes into the Curse itself. "R-Redirected…!?" It seethed inwardly, discarding the notion as impossible—its shadows should nullify any such trick.

"SO WHY!?" It roared inside its own head, dark energy crackling around its form. "IT'S JUST SOME DAMN PLUSH TOY!!!"

Then, like a whisper from centuries past, a memory flickered: the Curse of Love—its opposite half—had once wielded a mirror-like reflection of any assault. That ability had been the key to sealing it away in the Dream Realm nearly eight centuries ago. The realization hit like gut punch that confused the Curse of Hatred all the same. Why would Mumu have an ability akin to its ancient enemy?

As the Curse struggled to reconcile the truth, Mumu took a single, resolute step forward—soft paws firm on the stone. To the Curse, it was not just a step but an act of blasphemy—an ant challenging a god.

That simple action was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Its shadow-mass shuddered, and without hesitation, it lunged. Tendrils whipped outward in a furious barrage as it roared in pure frustration.

But Mumu neither flinched nor spared a moment's fear. He braced himself, body rigid, absorbing the onslaught like an immovable mountain. Each strike thundered against his stitched fur, then…simply vanished.

In that instant, Mumu's black, void-like eyes flashed with a brilliant, golden spark—an echo of the power he had received from Dama.

In response, new slashes carved themselves across the Curse's obsidian torso—three clean cuts that fumed with the same golden light.

Before it could react, Mumu drew a deep breath and channeled every ounce of his strength into one devastating gut punch. His paw drove upward into the Curse's midpoint with the force of a battering ram.

The impact reverberated through the void. The Curse of Hatred's form buckled like melting tar, then was flung backward in a blackout wave of shadows, crashing into nothing, seemingly stopping midair on an invisible wall with colossal force.

Silence fell, broken only by the distant drip of shadow-flesh sliding off onto the void below. Mumu lowered his paw, chest heaving, eyes still glowing softly as he stood between his family and the battered horror that had dared to threaten them.

Dama's eyes widened in awe as he cheered, voice cracking with excitement despite the pain in his ribs. Cradling Nini against his chest, he nodded furiously, her small body vibrating with shared joy.

Saa'ir pressed one arm over his kneeling knee, sweat and soulura mingling on his brow. He replayed the impossible sequence: Mumu's punch that carved into living shadow, the redirection of the Curse's own attacks, and the bear's final gut check that sent the monolith of darkness flying. It defied everything he knew about this realm—and about the Curse itself.

But as Saa'ir's gaze sharpened, a flicker of movement caught his eye. There, among the curling tendrils that had once dripped from the Curse's main body, a tiny hand emerged—pale and human against the obsidian slime. Saa'ir's breath caught.

Before he could shout a warning, Mumu, Nini, and even Dama spotted it too. The hand twitched, as if clawing its way free.

Then, with a wet, shuddering lurch, the Curse of Hatred's body pulled back together. The slimy masses reknit over the exposed limb, swallowing it from view. Its face—white void-eyes and upside-down grin—screwed into a mask of pure loathing as it rose to its full, towering height once more.

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"Giona!" Dama's voice cracked with urgency, realizing she's still fighting from within.

Despite his want to just rush in and help out anyway he can, Dama knew all too well himself that he couldn't—he would just get in the way. He hugged Nini closer, voice thick. "I wish I could help…help Mumu, help Mr. Saa'ir, help save Giona…" His chest tightened. He patted Nini's back apologetically, tears glinting in his eyes. "I don't know how. I'm stuck here."

As he spoke, a gentle warmth began to blossom around him. Gold light, akin to the energy that was shared with Mumu, started spilling into Nini's fur, her eyes widening at the familiar, comforting warmth. Just like your brother, she recognized the energy the more it seeped into her body, the same energy that gave her life.

Oblivious to the power he was sharing, Dama's gaze remained fixed on Mumu's stalwart form.

Saa'ir, momentarily stunned by Mumu's sudden ability to fight Curse, and with the latter's recovery, turned to look at Dama for answers. froze at the sight of a living halo of golden light surrounding both boy and fox.

However, Saa'ir would freeze at the sight of a living halo of golden light surrounding both boy and fox. With his breath caught, he stared at Dama's radiant form, knowing that was no ordinary glow—it was soulura, coalescing around the boy in living gold.

That was when it hit Saa'ir, "No way... That golden hue..." He thought as he glanced behind at the bear; faint, ghostly golden vines curling around Mumu's paws, shoulders, and body, just as they did around Dama and Nini.

It all fell into place. Mumu's sudden power to wound and repel the Curse of Hatred—his uncanny reflection of its attacks—must be an echo of a Soulful Technique, channeled through Dama. Perhaps Nini, too, bore her own latent technique, awakened by the same life-spark.

Most of all, Dama's golden aura… Was it disrupting the Curse's shadows? Or something even deeper, beyond his understanding?

Pain lanced through Saa'ir's side, and he forced himself to his feet, bracing his hand against the stone wall. He met Dama's wide, hopeful eyes. "Young Dama," he called, voice low but urgent. "If we stand any chance of saving Giona—and escaping this mindscape—you are the key."

Dama's brow furrowed in confusion. "Me? But I've barely done anything..." His voice wavered. He closed his eyes, fists clenching. "It makes me so angry. I want to save Giona—to be strong, like Mr. Koul or Mr. Liam."

He opened his eyes and felt support under his left arm, someone's head poking out and shoulders braced for his weight. Grateful, he murmured, "Thank you, Mr. Saa'ir…"

But his words stumbled off when he fully lifted his gaze. Standing before him was Saa'ir—eyes alight with shock—and at his side...

Another Dama?

The same light-green hair, the same knitted sweater, the same freckles dotting a boyish face. Dama's pulse thundered, he was looking at his own body, a perfect replica.

"W-Who—?" He whispered, trembling.

The double locked gazes with him, then smiled, and a pair of green, stitched ears sprouted from its hair. Its hands flexed and contorted for a moment, transforming into Nini's softer paws. The doppelgänger's lips then curved even more in Nini's signature gentle grin.

It was Nini, wearing Dama's face.

Dama's jaw dropped as he stared at the stitched doppelgänger. "Nini…?" He stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

The fox nodded, her green ears tucking back into her hair until they vanished entirely.

"How—How did you...?" Dama fumbled, eyes wide.

Before Nini could answer, Saa'ir stepped forward, voice calm but firm. "It's because of you." He explained. He gestured between the two of them. "You've been unknowingly activating your Soulful Technique, channeling your soulura not just into Mumu, but into Nini as well. Your emotions—your determination—have unlocked their techniques."

Dama and Nini exchanged confused looks, both tilting their heads. "Eh…?" They echoed in unison.

A brief silence fell into place as Dama registered the fact not only Nini changed into an exact replica of him, but that she also just spoke.

Unaware of this, Saa'ir offered a small, apologetic shrug. "I know it sounds strange. I'll explain more once we've subdued the Curse of Hatred. For now, I have a plan…" He turned to Nini and tapped his own shoulder. "Can you do that again? Turn into me?"

He glanced over his shoulder, where Mumu was locked in fierce combat, shadows recoiling beneath his onslaught. "We don't have much time."

Nini's hidden ears flicked briefly beneath her hair as she considered the question. Dama, remembering her earlier shrinking trick on the way to Briarstone, leaned in. "Hey, Nini, remember what you did in Briarstone? You can do it!"

Nini looked up at Dama, surprised when he slipped his arm from around her shoulders. She let out a small whine of protest, but nodded as he knelt, gesturing encouragingly.

Turning back to Saa'ir, Nini's tail and ears coming out as she held out a single hand. "Shake?" She offered in a clear, foxlike voice—an unexpected courtesy that made Saa'ir raise an eyebrow.

Curious, he took her hand in his own. The moment their skin met, Nini's entire body ignited in golden light. It poured from her in liquid ribbons, her form melting and flowing like warm honey, the glow contrasting starkly with the inky shadows around them.

Dama watched, mouth agape, as the golden haze shifted and stretched. In seconds, where Nini had stood, there was another Saa'ir—complete with cloak, golden chains levitating on her limbs, and eyes the same silvery gray.

Saa'ir stared at his double, and Dama's smiled with both wonder and anticipation.

Saa'ir's eyes softened with pride as Dama turned to praise Nini's transformation, ragged breaths catching in his chest. The stitched fox's ears sprouted back into place through the turban she copied from Saa'ir, perking up, and her tail that phased through her robe flicked eagerly as she soaked in the admiration.

"Excellent work, Nini." Saa'ir said, voice warm. Then he straightened, expression sharpening. "Focus. This is my plan."

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Next: (Chapter 69) Combined Stitched Front

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