The room was quiet, steeped in the heavy air of recovery. Zenith, Lithos, and Team Hinazuki sat slouched across the tatami mats, their bodies still aching from the brutal clash with Hoshigami. Even in rest, the lingering echo of Flow pulsed faintly in their veins, reminding them of the battle they had narrowly survived.
Breaking the silence, Hoshigami's calm voice carried across the room. "With that being said… I think it's time you met my apprentice."
Zenith's head shot up, his jaw nearly dropping. "Wait—you have an apprentice?!"
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Hoshigami's lips. "Yes. And he carries dreams just as heavy as yours."
As if summoned by those words, a door at the far end creaked open. A young man stepped into the room, his presence almost imperceptible until he was already among them. Slender in build, with golden hair falling across a tightly fitted robe, he moved without sound, without even the faintest ripple of energy.
"Hi," he said simply, his tone soft but confident. "My name is Hiyori."
The disciples stiffened. Lithos instinctively reached for his talismans, his eyes widening in disbelief. "How did he…? I couldn't sense him at all. One moment he wasn't there, and the next—"
Hoshigami interrupted with a slight gesture of his hand. "Zenith. Hiyori will be your training partner. It would be best if the two of you started getting along."
Zenith studied the boy closely, his gaze sweeping over the twin daggers at Hiyori's waist and the pouch of talismans at his side. "Short blades, a handful of talismans…" His brow furrowed. "You're not a samurai, are you?"
"Correct," Hiyori replied without hesitation. "I'm an assassin. But under Sensei's guidance, I've also learned to wield Flow chants."
Lithos let out a low whistle. "An assassin who can use Flow chants… that's a dangerously balanced build."
Hinazuki smirked from where he sat, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Balanced? If he knows how to use it right, that's more than balanced. That's broken."
Before Zenith could add his thoughts, Hoshigami snapped his fingers. At once, threads of golden light spiraled across the disciples' bodies. The sting of cuts faded, bruises melted away, and even the exhaustion that weighed down their limbs lifted as though washed clean. Zenith flexed his hand, marveling at the sudden rush of vitality.
"Well," he muttered, "that's convenient."
"Your training begins now," Hoshigami said, his tone sharpened with finality. "The sooner you master the Oborowa Mandala, the better. Zenith, you will begin with Hiyori. The rest of you will train under me."
Zenith frowned. "But… you're the one who knows about the Mandala. Shouldn't I—"
"The Mandala is not mastered by knowledge alone," Hoshigami cut in firmly. "This is a realm of cultivation. To command it, you must first sharpen your senses and discipline your instincts. That is your foundation. Enlightenment comes later."
He extended his hand, and a portal of swirling mist and flowing script opened in the air. A doorway to another world. "Hiyori. Take him to the training field."
Zenith exhaled, gripping the hilt of Akugami as if bracing himself. He cast one last glance at Lithos and Hinazuki before following Hiyori through the portal.
The portal enveloped them in shimmering mist, its surface rippling like water. Zenith stepped through cautiously, his hand resting on Akugami's hilt. The sensation was strange—weightless, yet crushing at the same time, as though he were passing through layers of unseen pressure.
When the light cleared, they found themselves in an entirely different world.
A vast forest stretched endlessly before them, with towering trees that glowed faintly as if infused with Flow. Mountains rose in the distance, their jagged peaks wreathed in drifting clouds. Rivers gleamed like silver threads under the sky, and the air thrummed with vitality so thick it vibrated against Zenith's skin.
"This…" he whispered, his eyes widening. "This is another world."
"A pocket dimension created by Hoshigami-sensei," Hiyori explained casually, his golden hair fluttering in the soft wind. "You can destroy mountains here, topple forests, split rivers—whatever you like. His Flow will restore it all. It's a world designed for cultivation."
Zenith exhaled in awe, then smirked faintly. "Convenient. Almost like a training ground built for breaking limits."
"Exactly."
Hiyori tossed something across the clearing. Zenith caught it—a bracelet of silver and jade, etched with flowing inscriptions that pulsed faintly.
"Wear it," Hiyori instructed.
Zenith raised a brow. "And what's this supposed to do?"
"The Bracelet of Heavenly Restriction," Hiyori replied. "It will let you draw out the Oborowa Mandala without being overwhelmed by its force. Without it, the Mandala would seize control of you. With it, you can wield its power—though in a limited state."
Zenith hesitated, staring at the bracelet as if it were both a gift and a burden. Then, with a determined breath, he slipped it onto his wrist.
The moment it touched his skin, his body trembled. White flames flickered at the edges of his vision, and the Mandala's familiar presence began to rise inside him. His aura expanded outward in spirals of heat and judgment, the faint outline of the spectral mandala shimmering behind him.
"I can feel it," Zenith muttered. "I'm in control… but it's restrained. Like a flood pushing against a dam."
"That's the point," Hiyori said firmly. "Our training here isn't about raw destruction. It's about sharpening your senses. If you want to truly master the Mandala, you must first awaken your sixth sense."
Zenith frowned. "Sixth sense? You mean… instinct?"
Hiyori's lips curled into the faintest smile. "Something like that. When the Mandala takes over, it's because it's forcing your sixth sense to awaken. But you lack the awareness to handle it. So instead, it overwhelms you. If you learn to control that instinctual plane, the Mandala will no longer rule you—you will rule it."
Zenith chuckled dryly. "You talk like some kind of philosopher."
"Maybe," Hiyori replied. "But philosophy alone won't help you here. Let's begin."
In an instant, Hiyori's form blurred. He vanished from Zenith's sight, reappearing a heartbeat later at his back. Steel whispered as his daggers slashed—Zenith barely twisted away, a shallow cut scoring across his chest.
"You're fast," Zenith hissed, gripping Akugami tightly. "Zero Cut!"
His blade sliced the air, releasing a flash of condensed Flow. The strike split through space itself, but Hiyori slipped past it effortlessly, his body moving like liquid shadow.
The temperature dropped suddenly. Zenith's breath frosted in the air, his lungs aching with every inhale. He spun, eyes widening as three massive ice pillars materialized around him, their surfaces glowing with etched talismans.
"Frost Talisman—Pillars of Doom," Hiyori's voice echoed.
Zenith gritted his teeth. The air itself clawed at him, slowing his movements, biting into his senses. "Every breath… feels like knives in my chest. What's the point of this?"
Hiyori answered not with words, but with movement. His daggers clashed against Akugami in a storm of strikes—each one precise, each one forcing Zenith further into desperation.
"He's everywhere," Zenith thought, blocking one strike only to feel another graze his ribs. "I can't even tell where the next attack is coming from!"
"Concentrate," Hiyori's voice cut through the chaos. "Don't fight against the Mandala. Become one with it."
Zenith closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. He steadied his grip on Akugami and exhaled deeply. The white fire within him flared, synchronizing with the spectral mandala behind him.
But Hiyori wasn't waiting. He lifted a talisman high. Frost crawled across the ground, and from it, a monstrous figure emerged—an ice giant, its clawed hands reaching toward Zenith.
"Frost Talisman—Frost Giant!"
The creature's roar shook the earth as it charged. Zenith's eyes snapped open, blazing white.
"Reveal yourself—Blade of Judgment!"
Light erupted. A winged figure descended at his side, clad in radiant armor, its masked face unreadable. In one swing, it cleaved through the Frost Giant, shattering the creature into frozen shards.
Hiyori's eyes widened slightly. "So… your Mandala manifests in two forms. One that weighs the guilty… and one that delivers judgment. What you've summoned is your innate sense of justice, given form."
His expression sharpened. "Very well, then. Let's push it further."
In a blur, Hiyori dashed above the summoned guardian. His daggers flashed, but the winged entity shifted with uncanny speed, dodging the blow. Zenith seized the opening and closed in, his katana sparking with golden light.
"Tensei—Ryūkōzan!"
The strike carved forward in a brilliant arc. Hiyori twisted aside just in time, the golden projection screaming past and slicing a distant mountain in half. The earth rumbled as boulders crashed into the valley below.
Hiyori landed lightly on the fractured stone, his lips curling into something between a grin and a challenge. "A two-on-one? Now that's interesting."
Zenith's eyes flicked to his summon. "Destroy the pillars! They're restricting me!"
The winged entity raised its blade to the sky. Dozens of beams of light rained down, obliterating the ice pillars in a storm of divine judgment.
The cold dissipated instantly, the weight lifting from Zenith's body. He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as his strength returned.
"You're improving quickly," Hiyori admitted, his daggers glinting in the spectral light. "But you're still far from awakening your sixth sense. That summon… it's powerful, but it drags you away from instinct. You rely on it too much."
Zenith's breath caught, his eyes narrowing. "And what about you? What have you achieved that I haven't?"
"I'll show you."
Hiyori's stance shifted, the air around him rippling. The very fabric of space behind him cracked like a mirror, fragments of reality reflecting endlessly in all directions.
"Mirror World—open."
From the rift spilled blinding radiance. "Diamond Burst!"
A torrent of glittering shards erupted outward, rays of light tearing across the landscape. Mountains crumbled, forests burned with reflected brilliance, and Zenith's summon was engulfed in the storm. The winged entity dissolved into sparks, its form shattered.
Zenith was hurled back, his body crashing into the ground with brutal force. Dust and rubble billowed around him as he struggled to rise, his breath shallow, his strength failing.
The battlefield fell silent. Only the faint shimmer of the Mirror World's closing crack lingered in the air.
Hiyori lowered his daggers, his tone calm once more. "That's enough for now. We can try again another time. For now, focus on other cultivation trials. Your path to the sixth sense… has only just begun."
Zenith lay on the ground, panting, his vision flickering between exhaustion and stubborn resolve. Deep within him, the Mandala pulsed faintly—waiting.