The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Naiathe, its golden light
filtering through the perpetual mist that gave Mistfall its name. From his perch on the stone
railing outside his family's home, Itsuki Naoya watched the town slowly come to life, his ice-blue
eyes reflecting the shimmer of dewdrops on nearby rooftops.
At seventeen, Itsuki possessed an unusual stillness for someone his age. Where other boys his
age might fidget or pace with nervous energy, he remained perfectly balanced on the narrow
ledge, one leg folded beneath him in a meditation pose he'd learned from his mother. His white
hair, touched with silver at the tips, caught the morning breeze as he methodically ate his
breakfast—a simple meal of flatbread and herbed tea that steamed gently in the cool air.
"Still playing statue, are we?"
The voice belonged to his father, Kaito Naoya, who emerged from the house carrying his own
cup of tea. Even in his simple training robes, the older man commanded attention. Battle scars
crisscrossed his forearms like ancient script, each one a lesson learned in combat. The obsidian
pendant at his throat—a family heirloom—gleamed darkly against his weathered skin.
"Observing," Itsuki corrected without turning around. "There's a difference."
"And what profound observations have you made about our humble Naiathe this morning?"
Itsuki gestured with his tea cup toward the street below. "Mrs. Hibana's limping again—her left
ankle. Probably overdid it in her garden yesterday. The Merchant's Guild messenger passed by
twice in the last hour, which means there's news from the capital. And..." He paused, his
expression growing more serious. "Three different groups of parents have walked past our
house, all glancing up at the windows. Word's spreading."
Kaito's eyebrows rose slightly. His son's observational skills never ceased to impress him.
"Word about what?"
"The Trial." Itsuki finally turned to face his father, and Kaito was struck by how much the boy
resembled his mother—not just in his white hair and pale eyes, but in the quiet intensity that
seemed to burn beneath his calm exterior. "The selection event for Zenkai Dojo. It's today, isn't
it?"
A slow smile spread across Kaito's scarred features. "You always were too clever for your own
good." He settled onto the railing beside his son, their shoulders nearly touching. "Yes, the Trial
begins this afternoon. The instructors arrived from Zenkai Dojo last night—I saw their banners
when I made my evening rounds."
Itsuki nodded, unsurprised. He'd felt something different in the air this morning, a subtle shift in
the town's rhythm. The essence that flowed through all things seemed more active, more alert,
as if Mistfall itself was holding its breath in anticipation.
"Are you nervous?" Kaito asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Should I be?" Itsuki countered, taking another sip of his tea. "I've been training for this my
entire life. My ability is... unusual. My combat scores at the dojo consistently rank in the top
three." He paused, his voice softening slightly. "And I have something to prove."
That last part wasn't entirely true—or rather, it wasn't the whole truth. Itsuki's real motivation
went deeper than simple ambition. Somewhere out there, beyond the safety of Astralyn's
borders, Tsuyari the Nullweaver threatened the very fabric of their world. The stories spoke of a
Trueborn who could erase entire domains from existence, leaving nothing but void where life
once flourished.
Few people knew the full extent of that threat. Fewer still understood that reaching Tier 5 and
joining the Beyond Order wasn't just about personal achievement—it was about positioning
himself to face an enemy that could unmake reality itself.
But those were thoughts for another time. Today, he needed to focus on the immediate
challenge.
"Your mother's been worried," Kaito said, his tone carefully neutral. "She won't say so directly,
but I can tell. She's been brewing calming teas all week, and yesterday I caught her reinforcing
the protective wards around your room."
Itsuki felt a pang of guilt. Nina Naoya expressed her love through quiet acts of
care—homemade meals, perfectly pressed training clothes, and the gentle touch of her
Moonwalk ability that could soothe even the most troubled mind. She'd never try to dissuade
him from pursuing his dreams, but that didn't mean she wasn't afraid of losing him.
"I should talk to her before I leave," he said.
"That would be wise." Kaito stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. "But first, let's see if
you're actually ready for what's coming."
Before Itsuki could ask what his father meant, Kaito's hand shot out, moving faster than most
people could follow. The attack was precise, controlled—not meant to harm, but to test reflexes
and decision-making under pressure.
Itsuki didn't dodge. Instead, he reached out with his ability, touching the abstract concept of
"force" that drove his father's strike. In an instant, he shifted its essential nature, transforming
"aggressive momentum" into "gentle breeze."
Kaito's hand, which should have tapped Itsuki's shoulder with enough force to knock him off
balance, instead brushed against him with all the impact of a falling leaf.
"Impressive," Kaito murmured, lowering his hand. "But you're still thinking too defensively. What
if I'd been serious about that attack?"
"Then I would have shifted it to 'misguided affection' and you'd have given me a hug instead,"
Itsuki replied with a slight smile. "Abstract Shift isn't just about reducing harm, Father. It's about
redefining the nature of problems themselves."
Kaito chuckled, but his eyes held a mixture of pride and concern. Unusual abilities were difficult
to categorize, and Itsuki's Abstract Shift seemed to operate by rules that even experienced
instructors struggled to understand. For a seventeen-year-old to wield such power with any
degree of control was remarkable—but the potential for things to go wrong was always present.
"Just remember," Kaito said seriously, "power without wisdom is destruction waiting to happen.
And in the heat of combat, it's easy to lose sight of the line between necessary force and
unnecessary cruelty."
"I understand." Itsuki stood as well, finishing the last of his tea. "I should get ready. The others
will be expecting me at the square before the Trial begins."
"The others" referred to his closest friends—the boys he'd grown up with, trained alongside, and
shared dreams of greatness with. Kairo Huisji, with his amber eyes and devil-may-care attitude,
could step through the gaps in reality itself. Shion Enther, quiet and observant, could conjure
echoes of the past with unsettling accuracy. And Takumi Leo, whose explosive temper was
matched only by his explosive abilities.
They were more than friends—they were brothers in all but blood, bound together by shared
ambitions and complementary strengths.
"Give them my regards," Kaito said. "And Itsuki? Whatever happens today, know that your
mother and I are proud of you. Not because of your abilities or your potential achievements, but
because of the man you're becoming."
The interior of the Naoya home was a study in quiet elegance. Unlike the grand estates of
Astralyn's nobility, this was a working family's dwelling—comfortable but not ostentatious, with
every piece of furniture chosen for function as well as form. Essence-powered lamps provided
warm, steady light, and the walls were decorated with Nina's delicate watercolor paintings of
Mistfall's landscapes.
Itsuki found his mother in the kitchen, her long white hair braided with practiced precision as she
prepared what looked like enough food to feed a small army. She wore a simple blue dress that
complemented her silver eyes, and the crescent-shaped birthmark behind her right ear was
visible when she turned to face him.
"There you are," Nina said, her voice carrying the melodic quality that came from years of
channeling her Moonwalk ability. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to skip breakfast
entirely."
"Sorry, Mother. Father and I were... discussing strategy."
Nina's knowing smile suggested she was well aware of what that "discussion" had entailed.
Living with two warriors meant becoming accustomed to impromptu training sessions breaking
out at any moment.
"I've prepared your favorite," she said, indicating a covered plate on the counter. "Honey cakes
with silverberries. And there's a thermos of jasmine tea for the road."
Itsuki accepted the offered meal gratefully, but he could sense the tension beneath his mother's
cheerful demeanor. Her movements were just a fraction too precise, her smile just a little too
bright. She was worried.
"Mother," he said gently, "I'm going to be fine."
"I know you are." Nina's hands stilled, and for a moment her composure wavered. "It's just...
you're my only child, Itsuki. And the world beyond Mistfall can be dangerous in ways that
training can't fully prepare you for."
"I won't be going anywhere dangerous today," he assured her. "It's just a selection trial. Even if
I'm chosen for Zenkai Dojo, that's still within Silverstone's borders."
"For now." Nina moved to the window, gazing out at the town she'd called home for nearly two
decades. "But we both know your ambitions reach further than Zenkai Dojo. The Beyond Order,
Itsuki? That's not just dangerous—it's potentially fatal. Even seasoned Tier 5 warriors
sometimes don't return from their missions."
Itsuki set down his tea cup and approached his mother, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I
know the risks. But I also know that some things are worth those risks. If I have the power to
protect people—to protect you and Father and everyone in Mistfall—then I have the
responsibility to develop that power."
Nina leaned into her son's touch, and Itsuki felt the subtle influence of her Moonwalk ability
washing over them both. It wasn't an intentional use of her power—more like an emotional
overflow that calmed frayed nerves and eased troubled thoughts. The effect was soothing, like
warm sunlight after a storm.
"Your father says the same thing," she murmured. "Sometimes I think I married two heroes
instead of one man and raised another."
"Heroes?" Itsuki laughed softly. "I'm just a boy from Silverstone with an unusual ability."
"No," Nina said firmly, turning to face him. "You're my son. And you have the kind of heart that
sees injustice and refuses to accept it. That's what makes someone heroic, not their Tier level or
their power rating."
They stood together in comfortable silence for several minutes, sharing the quiet intimacy of a
mother and son who understood each other completely. Finally, Nina stepped back and
smoothed down Itsuki's training robes with practiced maternal efficiency.
"There," she said. "Now you look presentable for whatever challenges await you today."
Itsuki smiled and kissed his mother's forehead. "Thank you. For everything."
"Come home safe," she called as he headed for the door. "And bring your friends by for dinner
sometime this week. I haven't seen Kairo's smile or heard Takumi's laugh in far too long."
The walk from the Naoya home to Mistfall's central square took Itsuki through the heart of
Naiathe's residential district. Here, the buildings were a harmonious blend of traditional Virelian
architecture and practical modern adaptations. Stone foundations supported walls of treated
wood and reinforced glass, while rooftops bore small gardens that helped filter the town's
essence flows.
Children played in the narrow alleyways between houses, their laughter echoing off the walls as
they chased each other in elaborate games of tag. Some of them had already begun
manifesting their Birthright abilities—a girl of perhaps eight years old was making flowers bloom
from cracks in the pavement, while a boy her age seemed to be having an animated
conversation with a stray cat.
The sight made Itsuki smile. In a few years, these children would face their own Trials, their own
choices about how to use the gifts they'd been born with. He hoped they would find paths that
brought them joy rather than burden.
"Itsuki! Wait up!"
The voice belonged to Kairo Huisji, though it took Itsuki a moment to spot his friend. That was
because Kairo was currently occupying the space between two buildings—not standing in an
alley, but literally existing in the narrow gap of reality that separated them.
"Show off," Itsuki said mildly as Kairo stepped back into normal space, his ember-orange hair
disheveled from void travel.
"Efficiency," Kairo corrected with a grin. "Why walk around obstacles when you can walk through
them?" He fell into step beside Itsuki, absently adjusting the cracked hourglass pendant that
hung from his neck—a memento of his missing mother.
"Any word from the others?" Itsuki asked.
"Takumi's already at the square, probably trying to intimidate the competition by setting things
on fire. Shion..." Kairo shrugged. "You know how he is. He'll appear when he appears, probably
with some cryptic insight about how today's events were foretold in a dream he had three weeks
ago."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, two young men on the verge of a potentially
life-changing day. Both carried the easy confidence that came from years of friendship and
shared training, but underneath that confidence was an awareness of what today might mean.
"Are you ready for this?" Kairo asked eventually.
"Are any of us ever truly ready for the moments that define our lives?" Itsuki replied. "But yes, I
think so. My ability is stable, my combat skills are sharp, and I have good friends watching my
back."
"And if we're not all selected? If some of us make it to Zenkai Dojo and others don't?"
It was a question they'd all been avoiding, but one that needed to be addressed. The bond
between the four friends was strong, but it wouldn't be the first time that different paths had
separated close companions.
"Then we trust that wherever we end up, we're meant to be there," Itsuki said. "And we make
sure that distance doesn't weaken what we've built together."
Kairo nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. "Takumi's been having nightmares about it,
you know. Not being chosen. He's got this idea that if he's not selected for Zenkai Dojo, he'll
never reach his potential."
"Takumi's potential isn't dependent on any dojo," Itsuki said firmly. "His Essence Flare is
devastating when properly controlled. The question isn't whether he'll grow stronger—it's
whether he'll learn to channel that strength without burning himself out."
"Try telling him that. The boy's got more pride than sense sometimes."
"Most of us do, at seventeen."
They turned a corner and suddenly found themselves on the edge of Mistfall's central square,
where the morning's activities were in full swing. Merchants hawked their wares from colorful
stalls, their voices competing with the ring of hammers from the blacksmith's shop and the
melodic calls of essence-singers who used their abilities to craft music from pure energy.
At the center of the square stood the Essence Stone—a crystalline pillar that rose thirty feet into
the air, its surface pulsing with silver-blue light. The Stone was more than just a monument; it
was a focal point for the town's essence flows, a conduit that helped stabilize the natural
energies that permeated Mistfall.
Today, however, the Stone's usual gentle glow seemed somehow more intense, as if it too was
responding to the anticipation that hung in the air.
"There," Kairo said, pointing toward a cluster of young people gathered near the Stone's base.
"Looks like we're not the only ones who decided to arrive early."
Itsuki counted roughly two dozen potential Trial participants, most of them around his own age.
Some he recognized from the local dojos—Drayce Harkin, the blacksmith's son, whose
Forcewell ability could deliver crushing impacts without physical contact. Reima Syl, whose
Vane Point technique could slice through steel with concentrated wind. And there, standing
slightly apart from the others with her characteristic poise, was Sayaka Veyra.
Even among a group of exceptional young warriors, Sayaka commanded attention. Her jet-black
hair was pulled back in a perfect high braid, and her violet eyes seemed to catalog every detail
of her potential competition. She wore a sleek combat suit that looked expensive enough to feed
a family for a month, and the lightweight gauntlets on her hands practically hummed with
contained essence.
"The princess arrives," Kairo murmured, though his tone held grudging respect rather than
mockery. "Think she's as good as everyone says?"
"Better, probably." Itsuki had never faced Sayaka in direct combat, but he'd seen her train. Her
Veinlock ability—which could paralyze opponents by disrupting their essence flow—was both
precise and brutal. More importantly, she had the kind of tactical mind that could adapt to
unexpected situations. "She'll be a challenge for whoever faces her."
"Speaking of challenges..." Kairo nodded toward another section of the square, where Takumi
Leo stood in animated conversation with what looked like half the town's younger population.
Even from a distance, his golden eyes were clearly visible, and his crimson hair seemed to
move with a life of its own.
"Is he...?" Itsuki began.
"Giving an impromptu demonstration of Essence Flare? Almost certainly." Kairo sighed. "Come
on. We'd better go rescue him from himself before he accidentally sets something important on
fire."
They made their way through the crowd, dodging merchants and curious onlookers. As they got
closer, Itsuki could hear fragments of Takumi's speech—something about "showing these
Zenkai Dojo instructors what Silverstone fighters are really capable of" and "burning bright
enough to be seen from the capital itself."
"Takumi," Itsuki called out as they approached. "Save some energy for the actual Trial."
Takumi turned, his face lighting up with genuine pleasure at seeing his friends. "Itsuki! Kairo!
Perfect timing. I was just explaining to everyone why we're going to dominate today's
challenges."
"We're going to do our best," Itsuki corrected diplomatically. "Which is all anyone can ask of us."
"Speak for yourself. I'm planning to do considerably better than my best." Takumi's grin was
infectious, and despite his boastful words, there was real warmth in his expression. "How are
you feeling? Ready to show these instructors what Abstract Shift can do?"
"As ready as I can be." Itsuki glanced around the square, noting the various groups and
individuals who would be his competition. "What about you? Any last-minute concerns?"
Takumi's expression grew more serious. "Just one. Promise me something—whatever happens
today, we stick together. If some of us are chosen and others aren't, we don't let that change
who we are to each other."
It was almost exactly what Kairo had said earlier, and Itsuki felt a warm surge of affection for his
friends. Despite their different personalities and abilities, they shared the same core
values—loyalty, determination, and the kind of bond that transcended mere circumstance.
"I promise," he said. "We're brothers, Takumi. That doesn't change based on which dojo we
attend."
"Brothers," Takumi repeated, seeming to savor the word. "I like that."
A new voice joined the conversation from behind them. "Brothers who are about to be late if
they don't start paying attention to their surroundings."
They turned to find Shion Enther approaching, his silver-blue hair catching the light from the
Essence Stone. As usual, he moved with an almost ghostly quiet, and his teal eyes held the
distant look that suggested he'd been using his Spectral Refrain ability recently.
"Shion!" Kairo clasped their friend's shoulder in greeting. "We were beginning to think you'd
decided to skip the Trial entirely."
"Hardly." Shion's voice carried its usual thoughtful cadence. "I've been... observing. The
instr