Ren stood amidst a dream unlike any other. No walls surrounded him, no roof sheltered him, only a still lake stretching endlessly, its surface as smooth as a silver mirror untouched since the dawn of creation. The air was calm, and the silence wasn't frightening; it was comforting, warm like a lost embrace.
"Don't rush." The voice came from behind him, a voice etched into the very walls of his soul. Ren turned slowly and saw his father, Satoshi Shigami, standing steadily on the water's surface. He held an ancient wooden sword, his eyes not observing the visible movement, but rather reading what lay before it.
"Echoes don't chase, Ren," his father spoke in profound silence, his voice echoing without reverberation. "If you raise your voice within yourself, it's lost. If you remain silent... it comes to you." Young Ren moved in response to his father's command. His strike was slow, but straight and precise. The lake water didn't stir, didn't create a disturbing splash, but rather a gentle, clear ripple that spread far into the distance. His father smiled a short, proud smile and said, "In life, it's not the strongest who survives... but the calmest."
The vision in the dream widened. There, on an unseen bank, his mother, Hana, smiled as she watched the training. His older brother, Taki, swung his wooden sword in the air, laughing loudly, filling the air with life. His younger sister, Saya, hid behind Ren's leg, clutching the hem of his robe, looking at him as if he were her one and only hero... as if he were her whole world. Everything was simple... warm... alive.
Then... a black drop fell. The lake rippled violently, and in a single second, the clear water turned a deep crimson... sticky blood swallowing their reflections. The silence that had hung heavy shattered like broken glass, and the sky darkened, pressing down on his chest. The stillness that had enveloped the place erupted into ear-splitting screams. Sweet laughter turned to terrified cries, and wooden swords became real blades dripping with death.
Ren watched his family fall before him, one by one, like autumn leaves swept away by a black storm. "Ren?... Save us!" His father's voice returned, but it wasn't the same steady, deep voice it had been; it was broken, desperate. He reached out to Ren, blood dripping between his fingers, his voice trembling with a reproach that tore at the boy's heart: "You could hear the echo... so why didn't you come?!"
"Save them... please!" The sound of his little sister Saya's cries mingled with the scene: "Brother... please save me!"
Ren tried to move, tried to scream, but his feet sank into the thick sea of blood. The noise in his head was too loud to bear, a monstrous noise that crushed his soul.
He opened his eyes suddenly. He gasped as if he had been drowning. His breath came in ragged gasps in the cold air of the room, his body drenched in cold sweat that clung to his clothes. The room was completely silent. No lake, no blood, no screams… just the harsh reality of his cramped wooden room in the Rock School.
He rose slowly, heavy steps dragging him to the sink. He washed his face, trying to extinguish the fire burning in his chest. The cold water momentarily brought him back to the present. He raised his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror, his blue eyes bloodshot. He whispered, his voice barely audible, burdened with unforgivable guilt, "Why…damn it…I'm still late."
In the passageway leading to the courtyard, an old woman, one of the school's servants, passed by. She paused for a moment, her gaze enigmatic, as if the wrinkles on her face read the death lurking in the boy's aura. Ren responded with a slight, cold nod, picked up his sword, and walked off toward the light.
As the sun rose, the schoolyard buzzed with activity. The students stood in orderly rows, but their energy emanated haphazardly from their weapons; an invisible echo, meaningless and directionless. Ren stood at the back, silent as ever. He didn't move, but his eyes translated every ripple, every tremor of his classmates' movements. He read the courtyard like an open map.
The giant instructor, Tera, stepped forward and struck the ground once with his thick wooden staff. Silence fell instantly, as if his staff had absorbed their voices.
"Today... we will not train," Tera said in his heavy voice, like the scraping of rocks. The students exchanged bewildered glances before the instructor continued to sweep across their faces with his stern gaze: "Today you will understand what an echo is, and where it came from."
He raised his cane and pointed to the empty square: "An echo wasn't a weapon at first. It was a feeling. A person feels it when gripped by deadly fear, or blinding rage, or a desperate, mad urge to survive." He lowered his voice abruptly, it becoming a terrifying roar: "Or when one's life hangs in the balance, and one awaits death."
He walked slowly between the rows, the students holding their breath: "In the beginning, it was a random wave, destroying its owner from within before it reached their opponent. Then... our ancestors learned how to transform this raging wave... into a pulse."
He stopped in the middle, raising his index finger high: "A pulse isn't more powerful than a wave... but it's more precise. One focused strike, at the right moment, is enough to end everything." Then he began to walk among them, his voice etching the contours of power into their minds: "Echo, in its essence, is raw, formless energy, yet it manifests to mimic all that exists in nature... You are the ones who bestow upon it its identity based on the nature of your souls."
His sharp gaze swept over them, and he continued in a swift, resolute rhythm: "There is the echo of water, for those who have learned to flow and redirect the opponent's energy against them. And there is the echo of rock, which you study here, representing solidity and an absolute, invincible defense. In other schools, the echo of flame ignites with its reckless attack and overwhelming power, not to mention the echo of lightning and fog, whose practitioners rely on deadly speed and stealth."
Tera paused, allowing the silence to linger for a few seconds, before lowering his voice to a whisper that everyone could hear: "And there is an art... with no school. Pure echo."
A heavy silence fell over the square. Then Terra continued, "A forgotten legend. No one has been heard of using it for centuries, leading some to believe it was a myth invented by the ancients to represent martial perfection. It rejects a heart that harbors even a trace of revenge or anger. In our blood-stained world, finding a soul so pure... is an impossible miracle."
His eyes suddenly stopped, settling directly on Ren, who stood behind him. Terra concluded with a warning:
"But always remember... an echo is not merely wasted energy. He who cannot listen to his inner pulse will find his echo turning into chaos that consumes him before it can touch his opponent."
No sooner had Tera finished his speech than the arena erupted in whispers from the students. "Pure echo? Is it even real? ...Just a myth to scare us!" Some students clenched their fists excitedly, while others chuckled sarcastically. As for Ren... he didn't even blink, nor did he utter a word.
"Enough!" Tera struck the ground again with his staff, ending the debate. "The explanation is over. Now, I want to see how you understand echo, not how you memorize it." He pointed his staff to the center of the rocky arena:
"Practice duels... now."
An immediate tension filled the students, each waiting to see who would be called first. But... before anyone could step forward, the tension was shattered by an unexpected sound.
"Haaaahhhhhh," a slow yawn, followed by a short, mocking laugh that came from the far end of the arena. It wasn't a loud laugh, but it was enough to shatter the solemnity of the place. Everyone turned in shock toward the source of the sound.
A young man leaned against a stone pillar, his arms crossed lazily, his sword slung carelessly over his shoulder. His black hair was streaked with fiery red, and a mocking, almost insolent smile played on his lips.
Tera frowned, his anger barely contained. "You rascal..." He gestured with his cane. "To the courtyard, now."
The young man raised his head with exaggerated laziness and said in a soft voice, with a provocative sway, "You're always so rude to me, Master Tera... as if you don't miss me."
A mixture of chuckles and surprise rippled through the students. One of them whispered, "Who's that? He's not wearing our uniform! What's he doing here?" The young man strode confidently and relaxedly into the center of the courtyard, showing no sign of nervousness, as if the entire courtyard and the Stone School were his own.
"Ratso Kazan..." Tera thought to himself, without uttering the name aloud. His mind raced ahead of his words. "That madman's brother." Tera's mind drifted back years. Hino Kazan, the master of the Flame Echo art at the Southern Flame Academy in Homura City. A man who knew no retreat, he channeled anger into energy and destruction into rigorous order. The Flame Echo wasn't just random force; it was a dangerous balance between deadly impulse and absolute control.
Tera's gaze returned to the young man standing before him. "And this is his younger brother. The same smile, the same insolence... but his Echo is different. More reckless."
Tera cleared his throat and said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "This boy isn't a student here. Ratsu Kazan... is our guest, and he will be your test today."
Whispers rose again, but Tera silenced them sharply. "In a few weeks, your annual graduation ceremony will be held. And whoever can't withstand the Flame Echo... isn't ready to leave these walls yet."
Ratsu smiled, letting his hand rest nonchalantly on the hilt of his sword. "Well then... who will be the first to burn?" His defiant gaze settled on Yara.
Yara raised her chin, her pride wounded by his arrogance, and took a confident step forward, her hand gripping her sword tightly. "Looks like you'll be the first to be crushed by my hand."
In the background, Ren watched the scene in utter silence. He didn't move. Yara and Ratsu stood facing each other. Yara drew her sword, her solid aura intensifying, while Ratsu... still hadn't moved, hadn't drawn his sword.
Tera raised his hand, signaling the start of the duel. "Begin," he said decisively, and lowered his hand.
But at that very moment… Ren's eyes widened suddenly. He sensed something strange. A subtle ripple, a cold, dark aura that belonged neither to Yara nor Ratsu, but emanated from the high rear terraces. An odd pulse in the Echo Lake… an unknown figure, silently watching them.
Tera noticed the sudden change in Ren's gaze and smiled faintly, barely perceptible, thinking to himself, "It seems you sensed it too, Ren… So… the dark Echo is beginning to emerge."