As Rin walked through the forest, the world softened around him. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in silver ribbons, painting the moss and roots in shades of serenity. Petals drifted down from unseen blossoms, and the faint glow of fireflies danced like scattered stars. The forest was alive, yet every sound seemed muted, as though nature itself bent to let him think.
And he remembered.
The battlefield. The silence after the storm. The ruins frozen into eternity.
In the heart of that wasteland, two relics had remained untouched. A necklace, its silver chain half-buried in frost, pulsing faintly with an emerald glow. When he picked it up, it was as if warmth reached across time itself — a thread tying him to a woman he had never known. Its weight had been light, yet carried a gravity he could not ignore.
And beside it… Dominion.
The corrupted blade had lain in silence, its fractured edge dripping with violet sparks that warped the very air. Even discarded, it radiated hunger. It was a scar of his father's life, a legacy of destruction that refused to fade.
He had stood there, clutching the necklace in one hand, the ??? Blade pulsing faintly in the other. And in that moment, she had made a choice.
The ??? Blade had responded like thunder muffled in snow. Its spectral edge split open like a living maw, pulling Dominion into itself. The corrupted sword shrieked, steel screaming as space and frost collided in violent waves. Violet light and azure frost clashed, sparks scattering like stars torn from the sky.
Then silence.
The ??? Blade pulsed again, brighter now, sharper. Dominion's essence had been consumed and reforged, its twisted hunger transformed into a power wholly her own. She had grown stronger — not corrupted, but resolute, as if declaring that Joon's sins would never chain Rin the way they had chained his father.
One hand had held the necklace, binding him to the woman's hidden bloodline. The other had held the reforged blade, ensuring his father's sins would never rule him.
Two inheritances, both his.
Rin blinked as the memory faded, his boots crunching softly against fallen leaves. The glow of the necklace pressed against his chest, and the ??? Blade at his side hummed faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He carried them both still.
The forest stretched before Rin like a dream painted in moonlight. Ancient trees rose high, their trunks silvered with moss, their crowns heavy with blossoms that glowed faintly in the dusk. Vines cascaded from the branches like living curtains, stirring whenever the breeze carried the soft perfume of wildflowers. Fireflies drifted lazily between shafts of light, their glow weaving constellations across the undergrowth.
A stream coursed beside his path, its surface reflecting the fractured sky above. Fish of translucent blue darted just beneath the water, their scales flashing like jewels. Every so often, a stag of pale ivory antlers would step into the clearing, its eyes like polished emeralds, before vanishing deeper into the thicket. The forest was not silent—it breathed with life, a chorus of cicadas and distant birdcalls, layered with the gentle rustle of leaves.
Rin walked slowly, his boots pressing softly into the mossy earth. Despite the serenity, his chest remained heavy with fatigue from battle. Yet the forest seemed to ease it, as though each breath of its air carried away fragments of exhaustion.
That was when it happened.
The necklace pulsed.
At first, it was faint—a shimmer across its surface, a sigh of frost exhaling into the night. Then the glow deepened, threads of silver-blue light coursing along the runes etched into its form. The illumination spread, seeping into the air around it, casting a faint path forward.
Rin paused, narrowing his eyes. "…You're guiding me?"
The necklace answered not with words, but with resonance. A low hum reverberated through his hand, soft and insistent, like a heartbeat that did not belong to him alone. The glow stretched ahead, winding through the trees, a trail of frost-light suspended in the air.
He followed.
Wherever the light fell, the forest responded. Blossoms tilted to follow its path, releasing petals that drifted like snow. Animals watched from the shadows—not with fear, but with recognition, bowing their heads as he passed. Even the water of the stream seemed to ripple toward the direction the blade pointed, as if the whole forest had conspired to guide him.
Rin's steps carried him deeper, past arching roots and bridges of stone carved by time. The path narrowed, until the trees opened suddenly—and there it was.
From the edge of the forest, the world widened into brilliance.
The city of blossoms unfurled in the valley below, lanterns glowing like captured stars, bridges spanning rivers of silver, cherry blossoms drifting in an eternal rain. At its center rose the colossal world tree, its blossoms glowing faintly against the dusk, its branches cradling the heavens themselves.
Rin stood breathless at the sight. The ??? Blade pulsed once more, as though proud of having led him here.
"…So this is where you wanted me to go," Rin murmured.
A strange warmth stirred in his chest—alien, yet familiar. The faint sense of belonging he had felt in the void returned, stronger now, as though the land itself whispered: welcome home.
And with that, he stepped forward, leaving the forest's embrace for the city of blossoms.
The city unfurled beneath the twilight sky like a living tapestry, each stroke of its beauty painted in shades of lavender, silver, and pink.
A wide river coursed gracefully through the heart of it, dividing the land into two vibrant halves yet binding them with its flowing reflection of the heavens. Bridges arched across the water like delicate threads of stone, their curves mirroring the crescent moon above. Lanterns lined their paths, each flame dancing like a sentinel guiding travelers from one shore to another.
Along both banks, rows upon rows of houses nestled together—wooden structures with tiled roofs, each one whispering of tradition and quiet artistry. Their windows glowed with amber light, warmth spilling outward to mingle with the cool perfume of the evening breeze. The streets wound like veins of life through the city, lit with the delicate hues of cherry blossoms in full bloom.
Petals drifted lazily upon the wind, dusting rooftops and rivers alike, as though nature herself had chosen to celebrate the city with endless confetti.
Closer to the river, marketplaces hummed with faint echoes—vendors calling out, the metallic clink of coins, the laughter of children darting beneath paper lanterns strung overhead. The fragrance of roasted chestnuts, spiced tea, and sweet confections lingered in the air, blending with the floral perfume of blossoms.
Further away, the city softened into serenity: narrow paths spiraled up toward hills where shadows of pines and maples watched over the valley below. From this vantage, the entire city resembled a crown of light and blossoms, a jewel set upon the earth, its river the silver thread weaving it into eternity.
It was a city alive with both dream and memory—where the past whispered in the wooden beams of ancient homes, and the future shimmered in lanterns floating gently down the current of the river.
At its heart stood an ancient cherry tree of impossible grandeur, its branches sprawling wide and heavy with blossoms that glowed faintly in the dusk—petals falling like soft snow, each shimmer catching lantern-light as though the night sky itself had descended among its boughs.
Around this colossal tree spiraled a network of wooden walkways and bridges, tier upon tier of polished red planks and carved railings, forming a latticework that seemed to float in the air. Lanterns dangled from beams and branches alike, their warm glow mingling with the pale pink radiance of the blossoms. Together, they cast the entire cityscape in a twilight spell: half light, half dream.
Beneath the tree, the ground fell away into mist and water. A waterfall roared softly in the depths, its spray carrying a cool freshness that reached even the highest bridges. The walkways wound down in graceful arcs toward the earth, where gardens of plum and maple flourished, their foliage stirred by a breeze heavy with fragrance.
The city beyond stretched into the distance, rooftops tiled in muted blue and slate, their silhouettes softened by blossom petals drifting endlessly through the air. Yet no part of it felt separate—the colossal tree was its anchor, its heart, drawing life and light into itself and returning it tenfold.
Figures strolled along the elevated paths: couples with hands clasped, children darting from lantern to lantern, robed scholars pausing to gaze at the blossoms as if each petal concealed some secret truth. Their voices rose in a gentle murmur, carried on the night wind like the low chorus of a living temple.
It was not merely a city. It was a sanctuary of light and bloom, a testament to harmony between nature and craft. Here, under the eternal rain of blossoms, even time itself seemed to pause—hesitant, perhaps, to disturb the perfection of the scene.
And yet, unlike the rural villages of storybooks, this city was not primitive. Its beauty concealed advancement that rivaled the future itself. Crystalline spires stood beside ancient wood, humming faintly with stored mana. Floating carriages glided through the sky, powered by luminous crystals tethered to invisible circuits of ley energy. Market stalls used hovering platforms instead of tables, and sigils etched in pale light carried whispers across distances—communication woven seamlessly into life.
Even the smallest detail spoke of elegance and refinement: roads that repelled dirt, homes that breathed warmth into the cold, lamplight fueled not by flame but by cores of captured starlight. The elves lived not in the shadow of progress, but in its quiet mastery—where art, nature, and technology were indistinguishable.
Rin stepped quietly through the blossom-strewn streets, his pale hair catching lantern-light like spun moonfire. Conversations softened as he passed. A few eyes lingered too long.
"Look at him," whispered one elf woman, her voice like silk behind a folding fan. "That face… too perfect for a traveler."
Another, cheeks warm beneath the lantern glow, muttered, "He looks… familiar. But I would remember someone like him."
Their companions giggled, disguising it behind hands, though their eyes betrayed fascination. Even warriors in silver-green armor shifted subtly as he walked by, gazes narrowing not in hostility but in instinctive recognition—an echo of kinship they could not explain.
Children paused mid-play to stare at him, their glowing conjurations of butterflies flickering out as if his presence alone pulled their focus. A merchant, mid-sale, lost his words as Rin passed, blinking as though trying to place a memory just out of reach.
But Rin himself said nothing. He walked with calm, his gaze sliding over lanterns, blossoms, and crystalline towers alike. Deep within, though, a strange sensation stirred—soft, undeniable.
"…It feels like I've come home."
The thought came unbidden, echoing within him like a truth his heart already knew.
Far above, where mortal eyes could not follow, the floating isle of royalty glimmered like a citadel carved from dawn. Suspended above the city, its crystalline palaces shone brighter than stars, linked to the World Tree by threads of unseen power. Few knew of the portal that connected the two realms; fewer still would ever step foot upon that sacred isle.
And within the heart of the World Tree, a presence stirred.
From the blossoms rose a figure—neither fully flesh nor wholly spirit, an elf-shaped apparition crowned with horns of polished wood. Her form glowed with the quiet authority of roots stretching deep into the soul of the earth, her voice carrying the resonance of countless seasons.
She tilted her head toward the distant street where Rin walked.
"…It seems," she whispered, her words a breeze through endless branches, "someone exceptional has crossed our borders."
The petals trembled, as though the city itself had heard.
And the night deepened.