I dreamt of sunlight.
The kind that warms your face before you even open your eyes. The smell of breakfast rice. The sound of my sister laughing somewhere in the courtyard. For a moment, it felt like everything was the same again.
Father was sitting by the koi pond, sword resting beside him. Mother was arranging flowers nearby, humming softly. Aya looked at me and smiled that teasing grin she always did.
"Late again, little brother," she said, tossing a petal into the water.
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, the sky cracked.
Not thunder—just a sound like glass breaking above us. Then, without warning, flames began to fall from it. The pond boiled. The trees screamed as they burned. Father stood and drew his sword, but the blade melted in his hands. Aya reached for me, but her arm turned to ash before she could touch me.
I screamed their names. The sound didn't matter. The fire swallowed everything.
When I woke up, there was no light.
I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. My throat hurt when I tried to breathe. My body felt stiff, like I hadn't moved in days.
At first, I thought I was blind. Then, after what felt like forever, a single flicker of orange light appeared in front of me. A tiny flame, floating in the darkness.
I blinked. The flame didn't move, didn't waver. It just hovered there, steady.
Then a voice came from beyond it.
"You finally woke up."
I froze. My pulse pounded in my ears. The voice wasn't loud—it was deep, old, like it came from the ground itself. It didn't echo. It just… was.
"You've slept for three days," the voice continued. "Most humans don't survive a fall like that. You, however, are no ordinary human."
I tried to speak, but my throat only rasped.
"Do not strain yourself, boy. Breathe."
I forced air into my lungs and swallowed hard. "Who… who's there?"
The flame grew brighter. Slowly, it floated downward and rested on a massive shape in the dark—something that curved like stone, covered in scales that shimmered faintly. Two eyes opened. Gold. Slitted. And the size of my entire body.
My stomach dropped. My back hit the wall of the cave before I even realized I'd moved.
"Fear," the voice rumbled, "is good. It means you still understand what stands before you."
I couldn't answer. I could barely breathe.
For the next few days—if they were even days—I didn't move far. I drank from the dripping water that gathered near the rocks. The dragon—whatever it was—spoke occasionally, its voice rumbling through the cave like distant thunder.
It told me to rest. Then it told me to stand. Then to focus.
I didn't trust it, but I listened. I didn't have another choice.
When I finally found the courage to speak again, my voice cracked. "Why… me?"
The flame brightened again, revealing a bit more of the cavern—bones of ancient creatures, some larger than any animal I'd ever seen. The dragon's head shifted slightly, scales grinding like stone.
"Your Ki," it said. "It thrashes like a storm. Untamed. Yet… pure. You carry blood that once sang in the heavens. You just don't know it yet."
I stared down at my hands. They were trembling. "You talk like you know me."
"I know what you could become."
The dragon's gaze drifted toward a shadowed corner of the cave.
"There. Take what rests there."
I hesitated, then forced myself to walk where it pointed. My legs still hurt, but I moved anyway. My hand brushed against something cold and smooth—metal. I pulled it free from the dirt and stepped back into the light of the small flame.
It was a katana. The blade black as obsidian, the handle wrapped in deep crimson cloth. Even without drawing it, I could feel it humming—like it was alive.
"This…" I started, "whose sword is this?"
"Ashen Ryoma," the dragon said. "Your great-great-grandfather. A warrior who once wielded Ki strong enough to split mountains. That sword was his bond. Now, it's yours."
I ran my thumb across the hilt. My blood felt like it was burning just touching it.
"Why give this to me?"
"Because you must learn what he could not," it said. "You must learn to control yourself before your anger consumes you."
That was the beginning of my training.
The dragon guided me—if you could call it that. It never moved from its place, but it spoke constantly. It taught me to draw Ki into my center, to let it flow instead of forcing it. To feel it pulse with my heartbeat, not against it.
Days blurred into weeks. My body grew stronger. My strikes faster. Sometimes I'd slash through the air, and the wind itself would split apart.
The dragon would watch, silent for hours, then correct me with a single word.
"Too much force."
"Not enough intent."
"You're fighting like a human again."
Each time it spoke, I listened. Each time I listened, I got better.
But the longer I trained, the weaker it sounded.
Its voice lost its echo. The flames it summoned burned dimmer. The cave itself began to feel colder.
"Are you dying?" I asked one night.
For the first time, it hesitated.
"Not dying," it said quietly. "Fading."
"Why?"
"Because every time you breathe, every time your Ki expands, a piece of my essence flows into you. It is how you grow. How you survive."
My chest tightened. "You're giving me your life."
"You are my purpose," it said simply. "I've been waiting for a vessel strong enough to carry my power. And I have little time left."
I clenched my fists. "Then stop. I can train on my own."
The dragon's eyes flickered, like dying embers.
"No, you can't. Not for what's coming."
I didn't understand what it meant then. I just knew it sounded final.
"My name," it said after a pause, "is Tenma. One of the Five Dragon Gods. Long before your people built walls or raised swords, we ruled the skies and stars. But something came. Something not meant for this world. I've been hiding from it ever since."
The air seemed to pulse as it spoke.
"You, Ryu Ryoma, are my answer to that threat. My successor. The last flame of what remains of me."
"Why me?" I asked. "I'm no one."
"Because you lost everything," it said. "Only those who have nothing left can grasp what lies beyond reason."
Tenma's body began to glow faintly—lines of light tracing his massive scales.
"I grant you the power of Space. The dominion over distance, separation, and existence itself. Learn to wield it, and you will never be bound by limits again."
The ground shook beneath me. A blinding surge rushed through my chest—like every atom in my body was being stretched and pulled. I gasped, falling to my knees. The world around me twisted, the cave rippling like water.
Tenma's voice grew faint, almost a whisper.
"When you awaken Dominion Ki… only then will I return. My essence will sleep within you until that day."
He shifted, and for the first time, I saw his true form.
Blue scales, vast wings curled like the sky itself, eyes burning gold. He was beautiful. Ancient. Terrifying.
He lowered his head toward me. One claw reached out and touched my chest.
A surge of energy erupted through my veins. My Ki roared, clashing with something greater, something endless.
Tenma's final words echoed, heavy but soft:
"Do not fight for revenge, boy. Fight for the truth. Revenge will drag you deeper than this pit ever could."
His light grew brighter until I had to close my eyes. When I opened them again, he was dissolving into mist—each particle drifting into me, warm and weightless.
The cave was silent again. The air still.
I looked down at my hands, trembling with the energy still coursing through them.
I took a deep breath.
"I will master this power," I said quietly. "And I'll find the truth."
The echo of my voice lingered in the dark.
And then, for the first time since the night my world burned, I didn't feel afraid.