The night after the monk's warning still clung to his thoughts like an unshakable shadow. The air in the village was calm, but within, the boy's heart pulsed with restless energy. He could no longer ignore the whispers—the Kagura's past, the fragment sealed inside him, and the path that was opening ahead.
The monk had called it the Forgotten Veil—a boundary between the world of men and a realm long sealed away, where the remnants of gods and demons still lingered. And now, with the power inside him stirring, the veil had begun to thin.
---
Into the Unknown
Dawn broke, pale and silver, washing the earth with muted light. He followed the monk beyond the familiar forests, to mountains no map in the village dared to mark. The path was narrow, lined with jagged rocks, as though the world itself wished to cut intruders away.
The monk's footsteps were deliberate, silent, as if he knew each stone by memory.
"You feel it, don't you?" the monk asked without turning back.
The boy nodded. The air was heavy, humming with something ancient. Every step forward tightened the coil of energy within him, like the fragment was… calling.
"Why me?" he asked finally. His voice was rough, almost breaking. "Why was this power given to me? I didn't ask for it. I just wanted—"
"—to live freely," the monk finished for him. His tone was neither cruel nor kind, just understanding. "But freedom has a price. The Kagura were once free too, before they became slaves to their own gift. The world does not care what you wanted—only what you carry."
The boy clenched his fists, silence burning his throat.
---
The Ruins in the Mist
They reached it by midday. The valley opened like a scar upon the mountains, swallowed by mist that clung to the ruins within. Towering stone pillars, cracked and leaning, bore marks like claw strikes. Between them lay fragments of shattered statues—faces twisted in agony, eyes gouged out.
"This is…" His breath caught.
"The cradle of the Kaguras," the monk said, voice low, almost reverent. "And their graveyard."
The ruins seemed to breathe. Each gust of wind stirred the mist into shapes—warriors locked in battle, beasts writhing in chains, gods bleeding stars. His head spun, and the fragment inside his body pulsed like a heartbeat.
"They fought here," the boy whispered.
"They died here," the monk corrected. "The Kaguras tore themselves apart when their gift turned into hunger. Some sought to master it, others to erase it. What you carry is not just power—it is history, and it demands resolution."
---
The First Test
The boy stepped forward, drawn as though invisible strings pulled him. The mist thickened around his feet, curling into claws. Suddenly, the ruins shifted. Stone cracked, and from the mist rose a warrior of old—a figure clad in shattered armor, eyes glowing with cold fire.
Its voice was not sound, but echo in his skull:
"Fragment-bearer… Prove your will, or be devoured as your forebears were."
The boy staggered back, fear spiking his veins.
The monk's voice cut through. "This is your test. You cannot run. The veil will only open to one who commands their fragment, not fears it."
The warrior charged. Its blade screamed through the air, cutting the mist like water. The boy barely dodged, feeling the edge slice his sleeve. His chest heaved—he was no match for something like this.
No… a darker voice whispered within. You are not weak. You are us.
Symbols burned faintly along his arm. Power surged, wild and untamed, spilling from the fragment. The warrior's next strike met his bare hand—and shattered like glass.
The boy's eyes widened in shock. The warrior staggered back, fragments of its blade dissolving into mist.
"You…" the boy muttered, trembling as energy crackled through him, "you're part of me."
The warrior's form bowed its head. "You begin to see. But strength without control will end you as it ended us. Walk forward, and the veil will open. Fail, and you will vanish into mist."
The figure faded. The mist thinned, revealing a path deeper into the ruins, where a faint light glowed.
---
The Monk's Warning
"You touched the fragment," the monk said, his eyes unreadable. "It answers you now."
"I almost lost myself," the boy admitted, still shaking. "The power wanted to take over."
The monk placed a hand on his shoulder. "That hunger will never leave. You must learn not to silence it, but to bind it. One day, you will face an enemy who knows the same hunger—stronger, older. If you are not ready, they will consume you."
"Who?" the boy asked.
The monk's eyes flickered toward the light beyond the ruins. "The ones who wait behind the veil. Kaguras who survived… and betrayed their own blood. You are walking into their den."
---
The Veil Awakens
They stepped together into the heart of the ruins. The pillars here formed a broken circle, like a shattered gate. The light grew, threads of gold and black weaving together until the air itself cracked.
The boy gasped. It wasn't just light—it was a tear in the world. Beyond it, shapes writhed, colossal and formless, whispering in voices too many to count.
"Come…" the whispers beckoned. "Come, heir of fragments. Return what is ours."
The ground trembled. The air split with a thunderous crack, and from the veil surged a figure—tall, cloaked in shadows, eyes burning red like dying suns.
The monk drew his staff, stepping in front of the boy. "Stay back. This is no illusion. This is the first guardian of the veil."
The shadow's voice rumbled like the world itself breaking:
"You are not worthy."
The boy's knees shook, but the fragment flared within him, symbols racing across his skin. His chest tightened—not with fear, but with resolve.
"No," he whispered. Then louder, teeth gritted, "I won't run. Not anymore."
The veil roared open wider, and the second arc had truly begun.