JIRO IKIGAI
Days passed without another godglyph falling from the sky. We walked until the morning we were supposed to reach Yoshi Village — and then we saw something strange.
A galaxy-like portal hovered above a huge rock, wrapped in a trembling purple aura. People poured out of it, a scattering of refugees and strangers. Then the unexpected happened: a single figure stepped from the gate, cloaked in shadow.
He was about my height. Long dark hair framed a face that looked almost feminine, but his presence was firm, gentle and confident. His eyes were gold — impossibly, painfully familiar.
He turned to help the other refugees, and all three of us simply watched, stunned. Once the last person had passed through, the portal splintered and collapsed. The crowd clustered like a small village, bewildered and grateful.
My gaze stayed fixed on the man. When the gate broke, he looked up and met my eyes from across the clearing. Everything in me flinched; the recognition hit like a current.
I moved without thinking — Shadow Step — and closed the distance in a blink. He reacted the same instant: a blade of flame flared into his hand. Reflex pushed my own darkness into a sword.
For a heartbeat we clashed: fire against shadow. He struck; I blocked. Then the flames winked out and softened into falling embers. He lowered his blade.
"Wait — is that you, Jiro?" his voice asked, as if confirming a dream.
The sound was familiar, but distant. My throat tightened. "Yes — who are you?" I answered, my voice echoing in the hush.
A smile, wide and relieved, broke across his face. "I'm Yosuke."
Relief and disbelief mixed in my chest. I pointed toward where Taro and Yuri were gathered; in the same instant we both teleported to them — two friends reunited in a world suddenly smaller and stranger than it had been an hour before.
SAI SHINU
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" I asked, the fear and wonder twisting in my gut.
Sai watched me with an expression that was calm, and oddly tired. "It's possible. I did it," he said.
I stared at him. Pale, shaky. "Tell me how. If there's a way to forge a Darkness Core, tell me."
He sighed and sat down as if preparing to teach a lifetime in one sitting. "When you forged your Light Core, you absorbed ambient light. Darkness is the opposite — its nature is repulsion, not absorption. That's why the ascension is harder. You can't just reach out and drink darkness like you do light."
I nodded slowly. The mechanics were slippery in my head. He continued.
"There's a trick. Two stages. First, you learn to absorb both light and darkness together. You balance them, allow your body to accept both." He folded his hands. "Then comes the second stage. You stop absorbing light. You keep absorbing only darkness. You trick your senses — you make darkness feel like light to you."
"So you force your body to treat darkness as if it were the ambient resource," I said, trying to make sense of it aloud.
"Exactly." My companion's eyes were steady. "Once you've trained that first stage, the shift into pure darkness absorption becomes possible. It's dangerous. It's taxing. But it works."
Danger. Taxing. The words landed heavy. I felt the path open before me — harder, lonelier, but at least visible.
"You'll need guidance," he added quietly. "Technique, control, and someone who understands the cost."
My chest tightened. I'd already chosen the hard road. Now I knew the steps. The question no longer was if I could do it, but when — and what it would cost.