A firefly entered the room. And the room was silent.

Three seconds ticked off the clock, and the firefly fluttered down to the ground.

Clang! Clash! Cling!

Humans. Warriors, they seemed, by the audible range of effects being portrayed by their surreal reflection of action. Judging by the position of the firefly trembling in fear, the clashes of metal on metal wafted from outside the room.

Into the dark. The darkness of the forest.

Gently, the firefly's glowing illumination began to fade. Like a smoky blaze gnawing on the final embers. Innocent as it was, the lovely insect found it difficult to breathe.

Clang! Whoosh!

The metallic clangor rose up, possibly enough to induce a state of nausea for even humans who dare to stand nearby.

Blades cut through air outside the puny hut.

Two robed warriors were indulged into the art of warfare, their focus interlocked on each other's eyes. One of them expertly wielded a badly-damaged glaive, whilst the other figure was acquainted with the usage of.... roses?

Roses indeed. Perfect, beautiful and exotic. Glass roses shimmered in the palms of the latter. Sacred flowers that could capture more romanticism in each petal than by a 16th century French prince.

"Wan..." the hooded figure with the roses broke the ice of silence at last. "I.... I'm sorry...."

He raised his arm and thrust the roses towards his opponent.

"You mustn't interfere.... Please stop, Wan...."

The other person, named Wan, reached out to grab the roses. Mid-air, they seemed to be normal flowery crystals. But with the first embrace, Wan's fingers came away bloody.

He had been tricked; the roses had razor-sharp petals.

Wan landed back on the blighted soil. Hands trembling. How could he be so ignorant of all the clues?

Meanwhile, a butterfly entered the chamber where the firefly had receded - carrying a droplet of sacred nectar with its feeble little legs. Swooping down in a slow arc, it let go.

The nectar fell right on the firefly, extinguishing its light forever.

"You... you're..." Wan's voice zoned out by the impeding growth of the fake rose's venomous nectar soaked in hatred. His grip on his glaive didn't diminish, luckily.

All around him, rose shrubs danced to the tunes of the passive breeze. Some were real, some fake. A few were lethal, and all of them were, no doubt, illusions. Soon, the entire forest lit up with the luminous roses.

Wan swung his glaive once more, slicing the air with a force that created a sonic boom.

Swooosh!

He prayed that it hit his target. For a fraction of a second, the world shattered in front of his eyes.

Everything became nothing.

And only he and that firefly remained stationary. Frozen. Floating. Free.

When he opened his eyes again, Wan's glaive was a burning staff. He dropped it on instinct, to observe it turn to ash immediately on impact with the ground.

From behind him, a voice sniggered.

As he turned his head, someone placed a finger over his lips.

"Sshhhhh...."

The person gestured towards Wan's hand.

As he braced to look at it, a blinding light appeared in the woods, turning all the silver roses to an ocean of blood-red sakura....

An emblem.

An emblem had been drawn.

"Wan...." the voice ordered. Not as a name; as a number.