The air changed before the landscape did.
Kazuki noticed it the moment the last suburban streetlight flickered behind him and the road curved into the hills. It wasn't just cooler—it was heavier, denser, as if the very oxygen had weight to it. Every breath felt like stepping deeper into someone else's dream.
He walked alone.
The city behind him had already blurred into distant lights, and the quiet was unsettling. Not empty — but ancient. As if the trees remembered more than he ever would.
Ahead, the road twisted upward, framed by moss-covered stone lanterns barely tall enough to peek above the tall grass. Most were broken, leaning. Some had been overtaken by vines. The asphalt cracked under his feet as if resisting his steps.
It was late — sometime past midnight. But the sky above wasn't black. It was bruised, a deep, unnatural purple, the stars hidden behind low-hanging clouds that shimmered faintly, as if lit from beneath.
Kazuki kept walking.
He didn't know exactly where he was going. Only that she had told him, "Follow the road until you stop hearing the world. Then climb. "
And so he did.
He passed an abandoned torii gate — its red faded to rust, its left pillar cracked but still standing. A single bell hung in the center, unmoving despite the wind.
He stopped to look at it.
The silence here wasn't peaceful.
It was expectant.
Like the forest held its breath, watching.
Kazuki's hand twitched. The mark on his palm — the remnant of the runic corruption — pulsed once, faintly.
Still with me, huh? He thought bitterly.
He continued.
The path grew narrower. The forest thickened. Shadows moved where no wind touched, and birdsong was entirely absent. All he heard was the quiet crunch of gravel beneath his steps and the occasional whisper of leaves brushing against each other — soft, careful, secretive.
Then, finally, the path ended.
And before him stood a forgotten shrine.
Or what remained of one.
Stone steps led up into a clearing overgrown with grass and pale-white flowers that glowed faintly in the dark. The building itself was half-ruined — its wooden walls cracked, roof partially caved in — but something about it radiated… presence.
A presence that wasn't Kazuki's.
He climbed the steps slowly, unsure if he was allowed, or even welcome.
When he reached the top, he stopped.
There, standing at the center of the clearing, barefoot on the stone tiles, facing away from him — was her.
Long silver-white hair spilled down her back like liquid metal. She wore a flowing black kimono, detailed with golden patterns that shimmered like firelight despite the dark. Her posture was relaxed, but Kazuki felt something beneath it — like standing near a dormant volcano.
She turned.
And the moment her eyes met his, he stopped breathing.
They weren't eyes. They were twin pale flames.
Not glowing.
Burning.
She stared at him.
Not in curiosity. Not in surprise.
In recognition.
As if she had known this exact moment for years, had walked it in dreams, had whispered it to the stars.
Her lips moved — slowly, deliberately.
"You made it, " she said. Her voice was smooth as silk, low, calm, but carried a tone that could silence a room.
Kazuki didn't answer. His breath was caught somewhere in his chest. The weight of her gaze was unbearable — like being peeled apart without a blade.
"You don't need to speak yet, " she continued, stepping closer. "Most don't. The first time we meet, mortals often forget how to breathe. "
He managed to find his voice. "You're not—human. "
Her lips curled. Not a smile. A statement.
"No, " she said. "And neither are you. Not anymore. "
Kazuki took a step back. His right hand instinctively moved to his chest. The faint ache where the runic mark had burned days ago still lingered like a brand.
She tilted her head.
"You've felt it, haven't you? " she asked. "The pull. The weight in your bones. The silence before the voice. "
Kazuki's throat tightened. "The voice…? "
She looked upward for a brief moment, as if hearing something only she could understand. Then back at him.
"You don't hear it clearly yet, " she said, more to herself than to him. "But it's coming. Every heartbeat takes you closer. "
He shook his head. "Who are you? "
At that, she stopped.
The air thickened again. A wind passed through the clearing, though none of the trees moved. The white flowers bent low to the ground as if bowing.
She raised her hand — and the night around her seemed to pause.
"My name, " she said, "is Veyra. "
The name echoed in Kazuki's mind, not like sound, but like a bell struck deep within his chest.
"I am what your kind once called a goddess, " she continued. "Though the word has grown small since the old days. I was once known by many names. The Whisper Flame. The Mirror of War. Kaer's Keeper. "
At the mention of Kaer, Kazuki's breath hitched.
"I trained him, " she said. "And now — I train you. "
"Wait—" he said, "Kaer? The voice? The power inside me? You—"
"Yes, " she interrupted. "The god of war whose echo burns in your blood. The one your soul now carries like a candle in a storm. "
Kazuki swallowed hard. "Why me? "
Veyra's eyes narrowed.
"Because you touched the Rune. "
She stepped closer.
"And because it touched you back. "
Silence fell again. A deeper one.
Veyra stood barely two meters from him now. Though she was shorter than he expected, her presence towered like a cathedral of flame.
She raised her left hand — and the space between them shimmered.
A small ember floated upward, appearing from nowhere, glowing like a heartbeat.
"You see flame. But this… is memory burning. " she asked.
Kazuki stared at it. "No. It's the past still bleeding. "
"No, " she said softly. "It's memory. The oldest kind. "
The ember spun once, and images flickered inside it — battles, ancient weapons, roaring beasts with too many eyes, a sky full of fire and shadows. Kazuki stepped back in shock.
"This is what Kaer was, " she said. "What he left behind. And now, piece by piece, you will remember it. Because his soul is not dead. "
Kazuki felt his knees weaken. "But… I'm not him. I didn't ask for this. "
"No one asks for fate, " she replied coldly. "They only choose what to do with it. "
He clenched his fists. "Why me? There must have been others. Stronger. Smarter. "
Veyra's eyes hardened. "There were. And they all died. "
That silenced him.
She let that hang for a moment, then added:
"You are the last. The final key. The only vessel that did not shatter. "
Kazuki looked down at his hands.
He remembered the burning.
The screams.
The way the Aberration imploded under his will.
He looked up at her again. "Then… what do you want from me? "
Veyra's gaze softened — just a trace.
"Nothing, " she said. "What I expect is another matter. "
"And that is? "
"To see whether you are a weapon, or a man. "
Kazuki's pulse thundered.
He couldn't read her. Couldn't decide if she was his guide, his judge, or something in between.
But one thing was clear:
There was no turning back.
Not anymore.
The clearing seemed to close around them.
Veyra didn't move. She didn't need to. The wind did it for her.
Without a single gesture, the air shifted — and suddenly, the world changed.
The flowers at Kazuki's feet withered into ash.
The shrine behind him vanished like smoke caught in reverse.
The stars above blinked out one by one until there was only a ceiling of darkness, and the ground beneath him cracked open, not physically, but existentially — like reality was being rewritten.
Kazuki's breath caught in his throat.
"W-What—" he gasped.
But it was too late.
The pressure hit him like a collapsing mountain.
He dropped to his knees, eyes wide, heart pounding like a war drum.
"What… what are you doing? " he screamed.
Veyra still hadn't moved. Her eyes gleamed like twin eclipses.
"You said you didn't ask for this, " she said, voice now layered — like two women were speaking at once, one divine, the other ancient. "But you also didn't walk away. That means you're here to be tested. "
"This isn't a test! " he shouted. "This is—! "
"Truth. " Her voice cut like lightning. "This is what the world will feel like when your power awakens without control. This is what you will become… if you don't learn to stand. "
Kazuki collapsed, flat against the cold stone. The weight was unbearable — like gravity itself had turned against him. His bones screamed. Blood roared in his ears.
His right arm — the one touched by the Rune — twitched uncontrollably. The black lines under his skin glowed faintly, reacting to something in the air.
"Stop—! " he begged. "I can't—"
"You must. "
Veyra's voice echoed everywhere and nowhere.
"You want mercy? You've already seen what mercy brings. Death. Weakness. Hesitation. "
The ground beneath him cracked.
Not just the stone — his very sense of self.
He felt his thoughts unraveling. Fragments of memory surfaced — his childhood, the orphanage, the night the fire took his parents. Yurika's voice. The smell of lilies in the flower shop. Aoi's smile, that one glimpse in the hallway before she looked away…
And then—
A scream.
Not his. Not human.
It tore through the void like a razor, and suddenly Kazuki saw it.
A shadow — huge, monstrous, clawed and eyeless — crawling across the edge of his vision, breathing as if the night itself were alive.
He clutched his head.
"I don't want this! " he screamed. "I didn't want to kill! I didn't ask to burn them! I'm not a monster! "
"You are, " Veyra said softly. "You're just the only one still pretending not to be. "
A burst of pain tore through him.
The Rune on his chest burned — not metaphorically — actually seared his skin. He screamed again, the agony so raw it felt like his soul was being ripped out strand by strand.
And then…
Silence.
The weight vanished.
The shadows retreated.
The flowers were back.
The stars returned.
Kazuki lay gasping, shaking, soaked in sweat that steamed against the cold air.
He blinked, barely able to lift his head.
Veyra stood over him now.
Not cruel.
Not kind.
Just… watching.
"Lesson one, " she said. "Your body is a shell. Your mind is a gate. Your soul is the battlefield. "
She turned away.
"You'll sleep here tonight. Eat nothing. Speak to no one. You'll rise at dawn. "
Kazuki tried to sit up. His muscles refused.
"You didn't give me a choice, " he whispered hoarsely.
Veyra paused.
Then glanced back at him over her shoulder.
"There is no choice, " she said. "Not for vessels. Only the illusion of it. "
She walked into the forest.
And vanished into the dark.
Kazuki remained alone, broken on the stones.
And for the first time, he truly asked himself —
What have I become?
The night didn't end.
Kazuki lay on the cold stone floor, staring at the blackened sky above, unsure whether his eyes were open or closed. The silence wasn't silence anymore. It was waiting. Breathing.
He couldn't move. Not really. Every muscle felt torn from within.
He drifted in and out of awareness, as if sleep and waking had merged into something else.
Something older.
Something watching.
Then—
The world caught fire.
It started with a flicker — a spark just behind his eyes.
Then flames.
Searing. Blinding. Endless.
But not hot.
Cold.
Burning not flesh, but thought.
Kazuki screamed — or tried to — but no voice came out.
He wasn't on the shrine floor anymore.
He was somewhere else.
He stood on a battlefield.
But not like any he'd seen in books or movies.
This wasn't war.
This was annihilation.
A red sky, cracked open like shattered glass, bled lightning across the horizon.
Mountains burned in the distance.
Cities — ancient and magnificent — were reduced to smoking bones.
In the sky above, winged monstrosities circled like crows over carrion, their bodies pulsing with runic light, their eyes glowing with something darker than malice.
And at the center—
A man.
Or what used to be one.
He stood taller than any human, his body armored in molten black metal, veins of crimson energy pulsing under his skin. His hair flowed like fire, and his eyes—
His eyes were Kazuki's.
Only deeper.
Older.
Deadlier.
Kaer.
He turned.
Not toward Kazuki.
But through him.
As if sensing his presence like a scent on the wind.
"You don't belong here, " the god said, voice like thunder cracking stone.
Kazuki staggered. "What… is this? "
Kaer's gaze narrowed.
"You are not ready, " he said.
Kazuki's hands shook. "You're in me. Your power—this—is you, right? "
Kaer's expression twisted — not into anger. Into something worse.
Disgust.
"I am not in you, " he said. "You are barely capable of holding my breath. You wear the Rune like a child clutches a blade — foolish, trembling, destined to bleed. "
"I didn't ask for this! " Kazuki shouted. "I didn't want your war! I didn't choose to be your vessel! "
Kaer stepped forward — the entire battlefield shook under his feet.
"You think this is a choice? " he thundered. "You touched my echo. You awakened my seal. You drew my memory from the abyss, and now you dare cry victim? "
Kazuki fell to his knees.
"Then take it back, " he whispered. "I don't want to become you. "
Kaer knelt.
They were eye to eye.
And Kazuki realized the god had no pupils. No soul. Just endless, pulsing heat behind a hollow gaze.
"You already are, " Kaer said.
And placed his hand on Kazuki's chest.
The pain was instant.
A thousand screams — not his — tore through his body. Voices of soldiers, mothers, kings, beasts. All slaughtered. All burned. All by his hands.
He saw flashes — his own hands, wielding a burning blade, cutting through horrors and men alike.
Blood. So much blood.
It wasn't battle. It was judgment.
He saw the world tremble beneath Kaer's wrath — and somewhere in that sea of fire, a silver-haired woman stood alone, tears in her eyes, whispering something Kazuki couldn't hear.
But Kaer did.
Because he turned.
And for a split second, his face cracked.
Pain. Grief. Rage.
Then nothing.
The fire consumed it all.
Kazuki screamed — truly screamed this time.
And woke up gasping.
His lungs heaved. His chest burned. His body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back wrong.
He was back on the shrine floor.
Drenched in sweat.
Alone.
But the voice echoed still, faint, somewhere in his veins:
"You already are. "
He didn't know how long he'd been lying there.
The sky had shifted from black to a pale ash-gray. The cold had seeped into his bones. His throat was dry, his stomach tight with hunger, and his muscles ached with every breath.
No food. No water.
No sleep that could be called rest.
Only silence.
And pain.
Kazuki pushed himself up on trembling arms, blinking at the dim light. The shrine stones had imprinted themselves into his skin. His back was sore, his neck stiff, his fingers numb.
He turned his head.
Veyra stood where she had left him — at the edge of the trees.
Watching.
Not with cruelty.
Not with care.
With expectation.
"Stand, " she said.
It wasn't a suggestion.
Kazuki tried.
His legs buckled immediately.
"Again. "
He gritted his teeth and forced his body upright. Every nerve protested. Sweat poured down his back, but he stood.
Shaking.
"Follow. "
She led him deep into the woods.
Not a word.
Not a glance back.
The forest changed as they walked — trees twisted in strange directions, their bark marked with old symbols, runes carved into roots that glowed faintly. The air was heavy. Not just humid — thick, like walking through breath that didn't belong to you.
Finally, they reached a clearing.
At its center stood a single flat stone platform — wide, worn, stained with something ancient and dark.
Veyra turned to him.
"This is your first trial. "
Kazuki opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
"No questions. No explanations. Survive. "
She raised her hand.
And the world shattered.
Kazuki dropped.
Not physically.
Everything vanished.
The trees. The sky. The wind.
He stood alone in a void — pitch black, endless, silent.
Then came the cold.
Not cold like winter.
Cold like emptiness.
Cold like abandonment.
His breath fogged the air.
Then— footsteps.
He turned.
Yurika stood there.
But something was wrong.
Her eyes were hollow.
She smiled, but it wasn't her smile.
"You left me, " she said softly.
Kazuki stepped back. "No—this isn't real. "
But the scene shifted again.
He was in the flower shop.
The smell of lilies.
The warmth of her tea.
The radio playing that old jazz tune she liked.
And then— fire.
The walls burned.
Yurika screamed.
He tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move.
He watched her burn.
Helpless.
Then—
Darkness again.
And another scene.
His school.
The hallway.
Aoi stood in the crowd.
Her eyes met his.
Then filled with fear.
She turned away.
"You're not human, " she whispered. "You're a monster. "
"No, " Kazuki cried. "Stop—stop this! "
But the illusions kept shifting.
The orphanage.
Children laughing — then bleeding.
The classroom.
His body, twisted by darkness.
The Rune glowing through his skin.
Screams.
Always screams.
Until—
He dropped to his knees in the void.
Alone.
Shaking.
Broken.
And then—
He saw himself.
Another Kazuki.
Standing tall.
Strong.
Eyes burning red.
Darkness crawling up his right arm like living smoke.
This version of him didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
Didn't beg.
He just watched.
"You'll break, " the other Kazuki said.
"You'll scream again. "
Kazuki looked up. "Who are you? "
The reflection smiled.
"I'm who you become when you stop being afraid. "
Then—
The world slammed back into place.
Kazuki awoke on the stone platform, gasping.
Soaked in sweat.
Hands bloodied from clawing the stone.
He looked up.
Veyra stood over him.
Her expression unreadable.
But her voice was calm.
"You lasted longer than most. "
Kazuki wiped his face.
His hands trembled.
He had no idea if he passed.
No idea what this even measured.
Veyra turned away.
"You'll do. "
And walked into the trees.
Kazuki lay there, breathing hard.
Eyes wide.
Chest heaving.
He had survived.
Barely.
But something inside him had changed.
He didn't know what.
Not yet.
But the darkness within him no longer felt foreign.
It felt… awake.
The air was still, unnaturally so. The trees surrounding the ancient shrine seemed to lean inward, as if listening, as if waiting. Kazuki stood at the center of the clearing, his breath shallow, his muscles trembling with residual pain from the illusions of the trial before. Veyra had said nothing since dawn. She had only motioned for him to walk to the center of the shrine once more. No words. No instruction. Just silence—and distance. He had the strange sense that she was watching from the trees again, her presence as sharp as ever despite her invisibility.
Kazuki clenched his fists, knuckles white. His body was still sore, his mind still frayed from the illusions she had conjured—or perhaps awakened. But this felt different. There was no mind-game here. No echo of fire or blood. Just a sensation building inside him. A pull. It started in his palm—a subtle vibration, as though the air itself was speaking. He raised his hand, fingers twitching involuntarily.
Then he felt it.
A pressure in his chest. A heartbeat—louder than his own.
No, not a heartbeat.
A pulse. Rhythmic. Ancient.
From the edge of the shrine's clearing, the shadows stirred. Something began to form—not walk, not crawl, not fly—but simply appear, as though reality itself had been pushed aside. It was tall, cloaked in smoke and sinew, its body barely distinguishable from the mist it emerged from. A creature—not fully beast, not fully spirit. Its head was long and narrow, jaw unhinged and lined with rows of glistening, bone-like teeth. It had no eyes. But it looked at him. Kazuki's blood chilled.
Classification: Shade-Tier Phantom Beast.
It moved like water over stone, silent but deliberate. Kazuki instinctively took a step back—but stopped. His legs didn't shake this time. The fear was still there, yes, but layered beneath it was something new. Something raw. The pulse returned—harder this time, flowing from his chest into his right arm. His fingers curled, and for a split second, he thought he saw black smoke trailing from his skin.
The creature lunged. Fast. Fluid.
Kazuki barely dodged, rolling across the grass, shoulder slamming into the hard edge of the platform. The beast landed where he had been standing, claws carving into the stone like it was clay. It turned immediately, tongue slithering from between fanged jaws, tasting the air. It knew exactly where he was. Kazuki scrambled up. No weapon. No shield. No time. He raised his arm—instinctively—and shouted, "Stop! "
The world did.
For a second.
Something snapped in his vision—like a layer of the world had peeled back. Behind the creature, just behind its smoky silhouette, he saw… a shape. A glimmer. Metallic.
A sword.
It wasn't there.
And yet it was.
Long. Curved. Blackened like obsidian. Etchings of unknown runes pulsing faint red across the blade's edge. The same pulse that now roared through Kazuki's veins. The sword didn't move. It didn't call to him. It simply existed. Waiting. Not yet his—but not fully apart from him either.
Then the creature attacked again. Kazuki jumped aside, just barely avoiding the rake of its claws. This time, he didn't roll away. He didn't retreat. He turned and ran forward. The beast reared up, preparing to strike him from above—but Kazuki dropped low, sliding between its legs and springing up on the other side. He twisted mid-air, grabbing a broken shard of rock from the shrine floor and hurling it with all his strength.
It struck the beast in the side of the jaw. A dull impact. Useless.
But the beast paused.
And Kazuki saw it.
The black flame on his right hand. Not fire. Not real fire. A shimmer—a glow, flickering across his skin like a brand beneath the surface.
He could feel something just beneath the bone. Not the sword yet—but the idea of it. The shadow of it.
He screamed—not in fear, but in defiance.
"Come on! "
The beast roared and charged.
Kazuki raised his arm again, the blackness growing, rippling down his shoulder and curling across his ribs. Not enough to summon the blade. Not yet. But the beast faltered. Just for a second. It saw the darkness. It recognized it.
And it hesitated.
That second was enough.
Kazuki spun to the side, grabbed a piece of broken wood from an offering stand nearby, and plunged it into the beast's open mouth as it lunged. The impact knocked them both to the ground. The beast thrashed, teeth closing down—but the splintered wood jammed between its jaws, locking them in place for a moment.
Kazuki rolled off it, gasping. His body felt like it was on fire again—not from pain, but from energy. Surging. Building. Demanding to be used.
Then—like a curtain falling—the pressure vanished.
The beast melted into shadow, dissipating into the air like dust in wind.
Kazuki staggered back, panting, hands on his knees.
Silence returned.
And Veyra stepped from the trees.
Her face betrayed nothing, but her eyes—those strange, gold-silver eyes—held a glint of something.
Approval?
Pity?
Neither?
She spoke, and her voice was low.
"You felt it. "
Kazuki looked up, breathing hard. "The blade. "
She nodded.
"A blade seen in the dark is still a blade. You're not ready to wield it. Yet. "
He straightened, still shaking. "It was real. "
"It will be, " she said. "When you're ready. And not a second before. "
Kazuki didn't speak. He didn't need to.
The fire in his blood wasn't gone.
And the shadow of the sword still hovered just behind his thoughts—waiting.
Kazuki sat alone beneath the shrine's edge, legs drawn up to his chest, back pressed against a cool stone pillar. The sun had barely risen, but light filtered through the trees in broken shafts, painting patterns across the mossy ground. For the first time since arriving here, there was no scream, no beast, no illusion. Just silence. But it was not peace.
His right arm still tingled. Even now, faint black traces shimmered under the skin — disappearing if he focused, returning when his thoughts drifted. He ran a hand along the edge of his ribs, where the dark lines had briefly spread during the trial. His skin felt normal. But it wasn't. Not anymore.
He remembered the sword. It hadn't materialized, but he'd seen it. Felt it. Not in his hand — in his blood. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't just power. It was identity. Waiting. Watching.
A breeze moved through the trees, soft but oddly cold. Kazuki shivered. Not from the chill. From within.
He hadn't spoken since the encounter. Neither had Veyra. She'd simply nodded after the battle, turned, and disappeared. Again. He didn't even know where she slept, if she slept at all.
But something else had stayed with him.
A voice.
Not hers.
Not his.
At first it was nothing more than static. A pressure behind the eyes. But as night fell, and his body calmed, he'd begun to hear it—barely audible, like a whisper behind a wall.
And now…
He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temples.
A whisper.
Low.
Male.
Not threatening.
But ancient.
"We burned for them…"
Kazuki's eyes snapped open. He stood quickly, fists clenched. "Who's there? " he hissed, scanning the trees.
No answer.
Only wind.
He took a shaky breath and tried to laugh it off, but the sound didn't come. The shrine, once a place of quiet, now felt like it was holding its breath. His breath caught with it.
He needed to move.
To do something—anything.
He wandered toward the old stone path that led deeper into the woods. Veyra had never told him not to go. She rarely said anything at all. But the forest ahead was darker. Untouched. As though even the sunlight hesitated to trespass there.
He walked.
Slowly.
Each step heavier than the last.
The forest began to change. Not visibly—but in feeling. The deeper he went, the more memories that weren't his began to stir.
Fires.
Screams.
Marching armies.
A city burning under a black sun.
None of it real.
And yet—
"You remember them. "
"You just don't know you do. "
Kazuki stumbled forward, grabbing a tree for balance. The bark was rough under his fingers, grounding him. "Stop it, " he whispered. "You're not me. "
The voice didn't reply this time.
But he knew it was still there.
It wasn't malicious.
It wasn't helpful.
It was just… present.
Like someone asleep in the same room.
He kept walking.
After another hundred steps, he reached a clearing. At the center stood a stone obelisk, cracked and weathered, covered in moss and vine. Symbols—old, jagged, runic—lined its surface. He didn't recognize the language, but something in his chest clenched the moment he saw it.
He reached out, fingertips brushing the surface.
And the world blinked.
A memory not his.
Standing in armor not made of steel, but forged from night and blood.
Thousands of voices shouting a name he didn't understand.
The sky raining ash.
The sword in his hand—whole, massive, alive.
Then pain.
A wound.
Betrayal.
And silence.
Kazuki gasped and jerked his hand back. The vision vanished. The obelisk remained.
"What are you showing me…? " he whispered.
But no answer came.
Only that faint, warm pulse in his hand.
He looked at his palm.
Still bare.
Still human.
But no longer just human.
He sat there for hours, knees pulled close, staring at the runes, trying to silence the thoughts—his and not his. Trying to tell where he ended and the memories began.
Back at the shrine, he knew Veyra would say nothing.
And somehow, that made it worse.
The morning struck like a blade.
Kazuki awoke not to birdsong, but to a thud—a blade slicing the ground inches from his face. He rolled back on instinct, breath catching in his throat, only to see Veyra standing above him, expression flat, arms crossed. "Too slow, " she said. "Again. "
He blinked, still caught between sleep and whatever passed for dreaming in this place. "Again? "
She motioned to the blade stuck in the ground. It wasn't real steel—just a training weapon, dulled and wooden—but it still looked heavy, deadly in the wrong hands.
"You hesitate, " she continued. "In the forest, hesitation is death. You want to live? Learn to move before thought. Learn to move to kill. "
Kazuki sat up, chest tight. The remnants of yesterday's voices still echoed faintly in his skull. He hadn't slept well—he rarely did anymore—but Veyra didn't care. Her lessons were never scheduled. They came like storms—violent, unexpected, and unrelenting.
"Pick it up. "
Kazuki rose and grabbed the blade, already feeling the tremble in his arms. Not from fear. From fatigue. He had never held a sword before, not really. But now it felt… oddly familiar. Like an extension of something half-awakened inside him.
Veyra didn't wait. She lunged.
Their training ground was small, a moss-covered circle near the edge of the shrine grounds, surrounded by dense trees and shifting shadows. She came at him in a flash—sweeping low, then pivoting into a high feint. Kazuki blocked the first, barely, but her second strike connected with his ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs.
He staggered, falling to one knee.
She didn't stop.
Another blow came—deliberate, controlled, but painful. He fell to the side, landing hard.
"No creature you face will wait for you to breathe, " she said coldly. "Stand up. "
He coughed. "You're not… even giving me a chance. "
"You've had chances. You ran. You survived. Now you fight. " Her eyes burned—not with anger, but with something colder. Expectation.
Kazuki pushed himself up. His grip on the sword tightened. His body still ached, his mind still buzzed with whispers, but there was something else now too. Focus. Determination.
She came again—swinging faster this time.
Kazuki moved—not by choice, but by instinct. He parried her strike, twisting his hips, and for a brief moment, their weapons locked. Her strength overpowered his, but he used her momentum, ducking low and rolling to the side.
She turned smoothly, blade already raised.
This time, he didn't wait.
He charged.
He didn't think. He didn't plan. He let the pull inside guide him. The blade moved with a sharp vertical arc—toward her shoulder. She deflected it, but for the first time, she didn't immediately counter. She stepped back.
Kazuki paused, surprised.
Veyra raised an eyebrow.
"Better. "
His chest heaved with breath, sweat running down his temple.
"Again, " she ordered. "But this time—you hunt. "
That word sent a chill down his spine. Hunt.
For days he had been prey, reacting, defending, running.
Now she wanted him to become the predator.
They resumed. Again and again. The rhythm changed. She no longer overwhelmed him with speed. She tested him—allowing windows, forcing him to make decisions. To analyze. To read.
Kazuki began to see her stance before it shifted. He learned the subtle motion of her foot before a strike. The tension in her shoulder before a feint. He wasn't winning—he wasn't even close—but something within him clicked.
And then—he moved first.
He saw her lean. Anticipated the attack. Slid beneath her blade and aimed a strike at her exposed flank.
She parried, of course. Effortlessly.
But she smiled.
Just faintly.
When the training ended hours later, Kazuki collapsed onto the grass, soaked in sweat, chest burning. Veyra sat across from him, legs folded beneath her, calm as stone.
"You're not completely useless, " she said, looking toward the canopy. "There's an animal in you. You just need to let it out. "
Kazuki swallowed air, wiping blood from his lip. "That's… not a compliment, is it? "
She smirked. "It's a beginning. "
They sat in silence for a long time. The forest around them returned to its usual hum. Birds returned to the branches. Leaves whispered their quiet truths.
Kazuki looked down at his palm again. The darkness hadn't returned today. No flame. No voice. No sword. Just him.
But he didn't feel alone anymore.
Something inside was learning to move.
And it wanted more.
The air was wrong. That's the only way Kazuki could describe it. Still. Too still. No insects. No rustle of birds. Just the hum of something… ancient. Watching.
He had been sent into the forest alone. Veyra hadn't explained why. Only said, "If you return before sunset, I'll know what you are. "
At first, he thought it was another test of fear. Another mind game.
But an hour in, when he stepped through the brush into the hollowed valley floor, he knew it was more.
The ground was scorched. Trees bent unnaturally. The air shimmered as though breathing flame. And at the center of it all, a beast stood—waiting.
It wasn't tall. Barely the height of a man. But it was wrong. Shadow-Tier Phantom Beast.
Its skin was slick and dark, pulsing with red veins. No eyes, just a jagged slit of teeth and twitching limbs that split unnaturally. Like it wasn't bound to a body, just… formed for the sake of killing.
It turned its head—if it had one—and felt Kazuki.
The moment its attention landed, Kazuki froze.
Not with fear. With something else.
Recognition.
As if the creature saw through his skin and bone into what was waking inside.
Then it charged.
Kazuki barely dodged the first strike—a scythe-like arm slicing a tree behind him clean in half. Splinters flew. He stumbled back, raising the training blade Veyra had given him, wooden and laughable now.
He slashed once. It bounced off the creature's hide like a stick on stone.
The beast twisted, uncoiling like smoke, then struck again.
Pain. His shoulder ripped open—blood sprayed across the moss. He screamed, fell, rolled, scrambled to his feet.
The whispers returned.
Not now.
But they were louder.
"Bleed. Stand. Burn. "
The beast lunged again. No time.
Kazuki screamed back.
And something inside screamed with him.
The air cracked. Heat exploded outward from his body. His right arm erupted in black flame—not burning, but alive. His eye—his right eye—burned red. He didn't see with it. He felt with it.
Time slowed.
The beast hesitated. Just a moment. Just enough.
Kazuki moved. Not trained, not precise—instinctive. He ducked low, his body twisting unnaturally fast. His arm pulsed, the black flame forming a shape, not solid, not yet a blade, but something sharp.
He drove it forward—straight into the Phantom's chest.
The beast shrieked, not from pain, but confusion.
Then—
Silence.
The creature collapsed.
Kazuki staggered back, breathing hard. Blood on his shirt. His arm still glowing. His eye pulsing like a heartbeat. The forest slowly returned to sound.
Leaves shifted.
A bird called.
Behind him, he heard a branch snap.
Veyra stood at the tree line, watching.
No expression. No praise. Only a single word.
"…Interesting. "
Kazuki fell to his knees.
The black flame flickered.
Then vanished.
Kazuki awoke to pain.
It wasn't sharp. It was deep — a throbbing heat running beneath his skin, pulsing from his right shoulder down to his wrist. He tried to move, but his muscles screamed in protest. He was lying on a mat, covered by a coarse blanket, inside the shrine.
The ceiling above was unfamiliar.
Not sky.
Not forest.
But wood and silence.
He winced, sitting up slowly. Every breath reminded him of the Phantom's claws. The bandage wrapped around his chest was crude but tight. Someone had stopped the bleeding.
He didn't remember passing out.
Only fire.
And eyes that weren't his.
"You're awake. "
Veyra's voice came from the corner.
She sat in the shadows, arms resting on her knees, watching him as if she had never moved.
"You were out for nearly a day. "
Kazuki cleared his throat. "Did I… kill it? "
"You did. "
Silence.
No congratulations. No praise.
Just confirmation.
"You didn't tell me I'd be fighting something like that, " he muttered, pressing a hand against the bandage.
"You weren't supposed to win, " she said flatly. "But you did. That's what matters. "
Kazuki looked down at his right hand. His fingers still trembled. No flame now. No darkness. Just skin. Human.
But the memory remained — like a scar etched into his mind.
"I saw things, " he said quietly. "Not just in the fight. Before. A voice. Visions. Like… someone else inside me. "
Veyra didn't flinch.
She stood, stepping into the light, her eyes unreadable.
"You're starting to remember what was never yours. That's how it begins. "
Kazuki stared. "What was never mine? "
She walked past him, pulling a long piece of black cloth from a drawer. With slow, deliberate motion, she handed it to him.
It was a sash. Etched with faint runes. Old. Faded.
"Put it on your arm when the pain comes back. It'll help. "
He took it, confused.
"Help with what? "
She met his gaze.
"Containing it. "
The word struck him like a blade.
"I thought this was power, " he whispered.
"It is. But not yours. Not yet. "
He didn't know what to say.
She moved to the doorway, pausing with her back to him.
"You've formed a bond, Kazuki. Whether you understand it or not. That Phantom didn't just die — it recognized what's inside you. It obeyed. "
Kazuki's throat tightened.
"It… obeyed? "
Veyra nodded.
"You didn't destroy it. You claimed it. "
She stepped outside, leaving him with those words.
Kazuki sat in silence.
Something stirred inside his chest.
A warmth.
Not fire.
Not pain.
A presence.
He closed his eyes.
And in the dark behind his lids, a voice whispered:
"The seal breathes again. And I remember your shape. "
Kazuki's eyes snapped open.
Outside, the wind shifted.
Far away — maybe miles — something howled.
A scream not human. Not beast.
Something coming.
Something… drawn to him