Deep in the mountain forests of the Kagetsu Kingdom, the wind danced softly through the leaves. Keal and Ichiro, both barefoot, balanced across a fallen log suspended over a narrow brook, their laughter echoing faintly across the woods.
Ichiro (grinning): "You call that footwork, Keal? Even Jack's dragon wings move lighter than that!"
Keal (laughing, steadying himself): "Maybe! But Master Kensei says you focus too much on speed and not enough on rhythm!"
He taps his temple confidently. "And my rhythm is perfect."
Ichiro playfully swings a wooden practice sword, which Keal narrowly dodges. The log shakes beneath them. Keal's balance doesn't falter—his senses are locked in, as if reading Ichiro's intent before his body moved.
Ichiro (chuckling): "You're scary good at this for a kid."
Keal (smirking): "You're just loud."
From a branch high above, cloaked in layers of darkness even the sun couldn't pierce, a shadow stirred.
Varik, the silent hunter, perched motionless on an ancient tree limb, his shredded black robe blending into the forest gloom. His blind, milky eyes didn't move. They didn't need to.
On his shoulder, Krau, his violet-eyed bat companion, twitched a leathery wing. Its ears rotated once—target locked.
The bat's tiny chest pulsed once.
And in that instant, Varik's world exploded in silent waves.
Pulses of soul-echoes shot out invisibly from Krau. The returning signals painted a three-dimensional soundscape in Varik's mind—every leaf, every breath, every heartbeat, every shift of Ichiro's foot on the bark—alive.
Back below, Keal suddenly stopped mid-laugh, his head turning sharply toward the trees. Ichiro noticed instantly.
Ichiro (frowning): "What is it?"
Keal (whispering): "The trees…just got quieter."
A second of stillness passed. Then Krau let out a faint ultrasonic cry, just low enough to echo in the back of Keal's head—a whisper of a whisper.
Keal's eyes widened.
Keal: "Ichiro… Someone's here."
Ichiro (drawing his real katana): "…Then we're not training anymore."
Above, the bat's wings stretched.
And Varik, like a wraith from a forgotten war, descended—without a sound.
The leaves didn't rustle. No branches snapped. And yet—Ichiro felt it.
The air itself bent under pressure. Not wind. Aura.
Ichiro (tense): "…Where…?"
Keal crouched low behind him, his small hands clenched into fists, face pale.
Keal (barely audible): "Too close."
A whisper of motion—and then nothing.
No birdcalls. No wind. Not even the usual hum of forest life.
Then it hit him.
Ichiro's katana—shaking.
Not from his hands. But from the vibrations in the air.
And then… a voice. Not spoken aloud but carved into the marrow of his thoughts.
(Echoes): "You can't see me… But I see the hesitation behind your guard.
I hear the doubt in your blood."
A pulse of pain shot through Ichiro's spine. He staggered back.
Ichiro (gasping): "Agh—!"
Keal (alarmed): "Ichiro!"
He tried to reach him, but a flash of something invisible struck Ichiro's shoulder—like a pin dipped in agony.
He dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
Ichiro (straining): "What… was that…?"
A thin trail of his aura bled from his body like steam in winter air.
He touched his shoulder—no wound.
But something inside has been pierced.
(Echoes): "Mark one… laced with silence. You won't feel the second. Not until your thoughts forget how to hold a sword."
Ichiro (weakened): "Get out of my head."
Ichiro raised his blade—his arms trembled.
Ichiro (defiant but shaky): "I…I won't fall to some coward in the trees."
(Echoes): "Cowardice is killing without knowledge. I am knowledge…given form."
Ichiro's leg buckled—his balance gone.
Ichiro (shouting): "Damn it—!"
He dropped his katana. It clattered uselessly onto the green grass.
Keal (screaming): "Stop!!"
Varik doesn't respond to Keal. His focus lies completely on Ichiro, ignoring Keal…or not being able to sense him.
Ichiro lay on the ground, his aura leaking, limbs barely responding.
Ichiro (weak): "How…?"
Varik reached behind his robe. A final aura arrow in his hand. Invisible. Laced in an aura so cold it made the air ripple.
Keal (desperate): "NO!"
A flash—pure wind.
And suddenly—
A hand caught the arrow mid-air.
A figure stood in front of Ichiro.
A figure cloaked in ancient white robes, with long white hair drifting in the breeze.
No words. No sound.
Only presence.
Master Kensei.
The mountains seemed to hold their breath.
Varik didn't attack again. He knew better.
And like smoke in wind, he was gone.
Keal (staring into the trees): "Varik von Shadow…"
Ichiro, on one knee, looked up sharply.
Even Master Kensei's aura, calm as stone, seemed to stir.
Ichiro (confused): "You know that name…?"
Keal's hand trembled. His voice was barely a whisper:
Keal: "The whispers of my friends"
Ichiro (quietly, to himself): "Von Shadow…the Shadow Society shouldn't exist anymore."
Keal: "You know what he is?"
Ichiro: "They used to be everywhere… A secret society of assassins, but decades ago they were haunted, destroyed…forgotten."
Ichiro (quietly, to himself): "So why now? Why me? Why did he follow me?"
Keal: "…not you."
He turned slowly to face the path back to the dojo.
Keal (firm): "It's Emilia."
At a distant vantage point—a cold ridge overlooking the mountain.
From the darkness beneath a crag, Varik stood motionless.
Krau sat on his shoulders, its violet eyes narrowed.
Another figure approached. Hooded. Armored. Silent.
The Voice: "You failed to mark the target."
Varik doesn't answer. He extended one finger toward the valley.
The Voice remained silent.
The Voice: "The Schatten Syndicate will not tolerate loose memories. Emilia Bruma must die."
Krau let out a low, distorted screech—
Not just a sound…but a signal.
And in the valley below, as Emilia stood near a cliff's edge, her breath visible in the cold—
She suddenly froze.
Eyes narrowed.
The mountain air was thin and dry, but she still felt like drowning from earlier.
Emilia (inner voice): "He didn't say a word. And yet he saw through me."
She moved fast, faster than she should—feet slipping over uneven stone, brushing frostbitten branches aside as she fled deeper into the forested slope behind the dojo.
She pressed her hand to her chest.
She collapses to her knees at the cliff's edge, overlooking a deep misty drop where trees vanish into shadows.
Her breath came in shudders.
Emilia (barely audible): "I'm not weak… I'm not…"
But she was shaking.
Because Kensei was right.
She hadn't moved on.
She hadn't even looked at the scars left behind after her years with the Boss—
The man who made her a ghost in the first place. The man who made people call her the fog princess.
The wind stopped.
Just for a second.
And then—
She felt it.
A pulse. Like a pressure wave. Low. Subtle. It shouldn't be noticeable.
But her mist. Her precious, quiet mist twitched.