The Black Sea's churning waves faded, their roar receding into a hollow silence as Arthev felt a sharp tug—a thread of energy snapping him backward through the void of his own mind. Shukaku's toothy grin lingered in his vision, its amber eyes glinting with mischief, before dissolving like smoke. The subconscious unraveled, and the weight of reality pressed in, cold and unyielding.
Arthev's eyes fluttered open, a faint green luminescence fading from his irises, leaving them dark and sharp. He sat cross-legged in the shadowed grove, the air around him humming with residual energy, a subtle vibration that prickled his skin. His body felt different—lighter, stronger, as if the very fibers of his being had been rewoven. Level 14 soul power coursed through him, steady and precise, like a blade honed to perfection. He exhaled slowly, a small, wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, that was one hell of a trip."
He glanced around, grounding himself in the familiar. The grove was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves stirred by a distant breeze. A few meters away, the Serpent Vine Drake lay sprawled across the earth, its sinuous body motionless, its thorny vines limp and tangled. Its chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths—still unconscious, its aura dimmed to a flicker. "Good," Arthev muttered, rising to his feet with a fluid stretch, his joints popping softly. "Stay down. I've got my ring now. Don't need your help anymore."
A gravelly chuckle rumbled in his mind, unbidden and sharp, like stones grinding together. "What, no souvenir? Could've at least snagged a scale for me, Stunned Face."
Shukaku's telepathic voice carried a playful edge, but there was a bite to it, a reminder of the beast's unpredictable nature.
Arthev's smirk widened as he adjusted the leather strap of his pouch, feeling the reassuring weight of shuriken and kunai against his hip. "You're in my head now, Shukaku. Enjoy the view. I'm not hauling drake parts just to keep you entertained."
"Cheapskate," Shukaku grumbled, though the tone was more amused than irritated, a low rumble that faded like distant thunder. "Bet you'd keep one for yourself if it sparkled enough."
Arthev snorted, shaking his head as he turned his attention to the ruin looming ahead. The shattered obsidian dome rose from the earth like the broken husk of some ancient leviathan, its jagged walls entwined with thick, pulsing vines that glowed faintly with green rune-light. The same eerie radiance he'd seen in his dreamscape, flickering like a heartbeat. The air around it seemed heavier, charged with an unseen force that made his skin prickle and his instincts sharpen. The jagged entrance yawned before him, dark and silent, a maw of shadow that seemed to whisper his name.
"Time to see what's been calling me," he said softly, his voice steady but laced with a quiet resolve. He took a step forward, then paused, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering unease. His fingers brushed the edge of his pouch, checking his weapons by habit, and his Three Tomoe Shinragan flickered active for a brief moment—crimson irises spinning with precision before dimming. He'd save the full power for when trouble found him. And it always did.
The interior of the dome was a stark contrast to the grove's open air. The moment he crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped, the air growing cool and thick, carrying a metallic tang that coated his tongue like old blood. The dome's vast interior was a labyrinth of cracked stone and gnarled roots, the floor littered with debris—shattered pottery, rusted metal fragments, and clumps of dried vines that crunched underfoot. Faint beams of light pierced the fractured ceiling, casting jagged patterns across the walls, but they did little to dispel the oppressive darkness. Arthev moved with purpose, his footsteps muffled by centuries of dust, his eyes scanning every shadow, every glint of reflected light. His senses were taut, attuned to the slightest shift in the air.
Minutes ticked by in silence, the only sound his steady breathing and the occasional drip of water echoing from some unseen crevice. The deeper he ventured, the stronger the hum in his chest grew—a subtle vibration that seemed to resonate with the ruin itself, guiding him like a lodestone. He navigated a narrow corridor, its walls etched with faded runes that pulsed faintly when he passed, as if acknowledging his presence. The air grew heavier, the metallic tang sharper, and a faint pressure began to build behind his eyes, like the onset of a storm.
Then, something caught his attention—a small, unremarkable lump half-buried in a patch of dry, cracked mud near a collapsed wall. It was rusted, caked in grime, barely distinguishable from the surrounding debris.
A rock? A piece of discarded junk? But the hum in his chest spiked as he approached, a sudden jolt that made his pulse quicken. He crouched, his movements slow and deliberate, and brushed the dirt aside with the tip of a kunai. The object was oval, no larger than his palm, its surface rough and corroded, shaped too precisely to be natural. It didn't look like much, but the energy it radiated was undeniable, a faint pulse that synced with his own soul power.
"What's this?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached for it, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his fingers closed around the object. The moment he touched it, a surge of energy erupted within him—wild, unbidden, a torrent of green light that flared from his body and poured into the lump. It pulsed in response, a brilliant blue glow bursting through the caked mud, sharp and blinding, like a star igniting in his hand.
Arthev flinched, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes. "What the—" The world lurched violently, the ruin's walls dissolving in a blink. His stomach twisted as space itself seemed to fold, and when the light faded, he was no longer in the dome.
He stood in a vast, isolated chamber, its stone walls worn smooth by time, stretching into an endless expanse of shadow and dust. The air was stale, heavy with a silence that pressed against his ears like a physical weight. No doors, no windows—just an oppressive emptiness that seemed to swallow sound and light. The object in his hand glowed faintly now, its blue radiance dimming to a soft pulse. Arthev spun, kunai drawn, his senses straining for any sign of danger, but there was nothing. No exit, no entry—just him, the chamber, and the strange rock.
"Nice trick, kid," Shukaku's voice rumbled in his mind, tinged with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Where'd you zap us to? This place is deader than a dried-up oasis."
"No idea," Arthev replied aloud, his voice low and taut. He held up the mud-crusted object, frowning as he turned it over in his hand.
"But this thing did it. Not sure what it is yet, but it's got power. More than it should."
"Looks like a dirty rock to me," Shukaku quipped, its tone dripping with mock skepticism. "You sure you didn't just trip over a fancy light switch?"
Arthev snorted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension coiling in his gut. "If I did, it's a one-way ticket. No way out." He pocketed the object, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the chamber. The smooth walls offered no clues, no seams or markings, just an unbroken expanse of stone that seemed to absorb the faint light. "Something's off," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Stay sharp, Shukaku."
The air shifted—a subtle ripple, then a low tremor that vibrated through the floor. The ground pulsed beneath his feet, a heartbeat of stone, and a shadow coalesced out of the emptiness, sudden and towering. Arthev tensed, his Three Tomoe Shinragan flaring to life, crimson irises spinning as the figure took form. It was a beast, monstrous and serpentine, its hulking frame stretching over seven meters. Its body was a grotesque patchwork of shimmering scales and jagged bone, each segment glinting like polished obsidian. Violet eyes glowed with an unnatural intensity, piercing the gloom, and its claws scraped the stone with a sound like metal on glass. Its maw parted, revealing rows of crystalline teeth that caught the dim light, but no sound escaped—just a silence that was somehow more terrifying than a roar.
The beast's aura slammed into Arthev like a tidal wave, raw and oppressive, a force so immense it made the air feel like liquid. His knees flexed involuntarily under the weight, his breath catching as he fought to steady himself. His Shinragan spun faster, tracking the creature's stillness, its menace, but even his enhanced perception struggled to process the sheer presence before him.
"Whoa, Stunned Face!" Shukaku's voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. "That's no drake. What'd you piss off this time?"
Arthev's smirk was gone, his grip on his kunai tightening until his knuckles whitened. "Another soul beast, maybe. But this…" The aura pressed harder, a relentless force that threatened to crush his resolve. His mind raced, calculating, searching for an edge, but the calm he relied on was fraying at the edges. This wasn't just powerful. It was…very powerful .