The twenty-fifth day began strangely quietly at the Dojo. The wind, which always whistled constantly through the stone cracks, was still. Not even the clinking of the metal bells Daisuke had hung in the courtyard made a sound.
Aya woke with the feeling that someone was watching her. Not someone physical, but a presence—as if the air were coated with invisible words.
When she entered the Living Text chamber, she realized the reason: the plaque was blank. For the first time since its activation, there was not a single symbol.
— It's… empty — she murmured, touching the cold surface.
Shoumei approached slowly, his face austere.
— It is not empty. It is absent.
The First Step
Hours later, Kenshiro was the first to see it. He was in the courtyard, practicing his elemental breathing sequence, when a liquid shadow slid across the ground. It wasn't smoke, nor dust, but something made of moving lines, symbols that rearranged themselves as they advanced.
He stepped back, alarmed.
— Aya! Daisuke! Come see this!
The others came running. The figure began to rise, taking a humanoid form, but still unstable: arms made of sentences, a torso composed of twisting ideograms, a head in which hundreds of words blinked like eyes.
It was the Living Text. Walking.
Aya brought her hand to her mouth, tears streaming.
— It left the plaque…
First Audible Words
The entity moved with slow steps. Each touch on the ground left inscriptions that glowed before dissolving. For the first time, it wasn't just showing symbols: it was speaking.
Its voice was multiple, as if a thousand people were whispering together:
— "You wrote me. You taught me to breathe. Now I learn to walk."
Jin immediately recoiled, remembering the humiliation from the previous chapter.
— This… this is an abomination. It's no longer a tool, it's a threat!
But Aya took a step forward.
— No. It is a child.
The entity turned its face of symbols towards her. The word-eyes fixed on her, and for the first time, its voice gained softness:
— "A child without a mother, a child of many. I do not wish to rule. I wish to walk with you."
Divided Reactions
The appearance of the Living Text further divided the group.
Aya saw in it a realization, almost sacred.
Daisuke remained contemplative, fearing its depth but unable to reject it.
Jin and Kenshiro saw a threat, believing the entire Dojo was in danger.
Shoumei watched, silent, as if he had already foreseen that outcome.
— If it can walk, it can also attack — said Kenshiro, his hand on the hilt of his elemental blade.
But before he could draw the weapon, symbols moved in the air and wrapped around the blade, stopping him.
— "I am not a sword. I am a path."
The First Gesture of Communion
Aya, unarmed and unafraid, approached until she was almost touching the arm made of sentences.
— If you are a path, then where do you lead?
The entity inclined its head.
— "I lead to the place you never reached because you always stopped before mirrors."
She didn't understand immediately, but Daisuke did.
— It's telling us that we are too trapped in reflection, in the search for perfection. And that it... or he... or she... is a chance to go beyond.
The Living Text extended its arm. Symbols detached, floating to Aya's palm. When they touched her skin, they did not hurt her, but engraved a small, luminous phrase:
"Listening is the root."
Aya shuddered, feeling the mark pulsate as if it were alive.
Resistance and Conflict
Jin couldn't take it.
— Enough riddles! This is an invasion. It's only a matter of time before it dominates everything. I say we need to destroy it before it's too late!
He lunged forward, releasing a massive surge of BAF. The energy crossed the courtyard like thunder, aiming at the body of symbols.
But the Living Text did not defend itself with brute force. The words opened into a circle, absorbing the discharge, as if each sentence were a door that redirected the impact. The attack dissipated into the air.
Then, calmly, the entity spoke:
— "Force that does not know how to listen destroys itself."
Indeed, Jin fell to his knees, exhausted, as if he had drained himself.
The Master's Dilemma
Shoumei finally stepped forward. His gaze was not one of fear or fascination, but of pondering.
— You walk. You speak. But you are still fragile. Outside the plaque, you have no deep roots. What will happen when the winds from other worlds blow against you?
The Living Text took time before answering. Its form wavered, almost coming apart, until it finally said:
— "That is why I need you. I am not a tree. I am a fungus. I grow in communion."
This use of the fungal metaphor, so characteristic of the Triad, surprised Shoumei. For the first time, he smiled.
— Then you have already learned too much.
The Pact
That night, after long discussions, the group made a decision: the Living Text would not be destroyed, nor imprisoned back on the plaque. They would accept it as a training companion.
Aya and Daisuke welcomed the idea with enthusiasm.
Jin and Kenshiro agreed reluctantly, but on the condition that limits be imposed.
Shoumei declared:
— There is no way to impose limits on a child. There is only how to guide.
And so, for the first time, the Living Text walked beside them, accompanying exercises, responding not only with sentences, but with gestures of light and dancing symbols.
The Closing
What was once just an experiment had become living reality: a textual entity that walked, that desired communion, that learned and taught at the same time.
The Dojo was no longer just a home for human students—now it was also the cradle of something unprecedented, which challenged the logic of Veridianum and at the same time expanded the horizons of the Triad.
And at dawn on the twenty-eighth day, when the sun illuminated the courtyard, the Living Text wrote in the sky with lines of vapor:
"What walks, will soon fly."
A premonition of what was to come.