Falling, weightless and endless, as if time itself had unraveled. Yashiro's chest tightened as his surroundings twisted into something both alien and achingly familiar. A dim hallway stretched before him, its walls damp and jagged, pulsing faintly as though alive. Footsteps—his? Someone else's?—echoed through the corridor, distant yet deafening. A boy ran ahead, his breath ragged, his movements frantic. The hallway flickered like a dying flame, and for a brief moment, Yashiro felt as though he had been there before, though he couldn't say when or why.
Pain tore through him—a white-hot flash as something struck flesh. The boy fell to his knees, clutching a mangled arm as blood pooled beneath him. A scream—sharp, raw—ripped through the air, though Yashiro couldn't tell if it came from the boy or from himself. Then everything burned away, the scene melting like wax under a searing flame.
Suddenly, he was standing before a great volcano, its peak obscured by churning black clouds. The ground beneath him cracked and hissed, molten rivers threading their way through jagged rocks. Yashiro knew this place—or did he? The details blurred, yet the oppressive heat and the suffocating sense of power clawing at his chest struck something deep within him. Shadows moved along the edges of his vision, too fast to make sense of.
A figure loomed, standing atop the volcano's ridge. Another shadow stood beside him, smaller, hesitant. Words were spoken, but they came as echoes from underwater, impossible to understand. The two figures clashed, their auras erupting in a storm of fire and ash, the force so overwhelming that the dream itself seemed to tear apart.
Then, Yashiro was on a battlefield, but this one was different. It wasn't just death that hung in the air—it was despair. Bodies stretched as far as the horizon, lifeless forms twisted into unnatural shapes. Yet, amidst the carnage, massive walls rose from the earth, their surfaces glistening with gold and marble. He was drawn to them, but he couldn't move. Was this a memory? Whose? The walls soared higher, then crumbled into dust, leaving him gasping for breath as the ground beneath him began to tremble.
The earth lifted—no, it was ripped apart. A massive chunk of land floated into the sky, carrying with it towers and spires that seemed to pierce the heavens. Yashiro's vision warped as he watched from above, the image splitting and fracturing like broken glass. The land was alive, glowing with a sinister energy that seeped into everything it touched.
Faces appeared, hollow and lifeless, their mouths moving in soundless cries. Yashiro's stomach churned. He didn't recognize them, but the sight of their empty eyes filled him with a nameless dread. Something dark and ancient pulsed through the air, a presence he couldn't see but felt like a weight crushing his chest.
Abruptly, he was in a quiet forest, the sudden stillness almost deafening. He moved—or rather, was moved—toward a small river. The water shimmered, its surface reflecting an old man's face. Yashiro's hand—no, not his hand—reached out, trembling, as though trying to grasp the image. The reflection stared back at him, and for a fleeting moment, he felt as though the man knew him, knew everything about him.
The scene fractured again, more violently this time. Darkness poured in from all sides, drowning him in a flood of fragmented images. He saw clawed hands tearing through flesh, cities burning, and shadows laughing in the void. Everything blurred together, twisting and spiraling until he couldn't tell where one nightmare ended and another began.
And then—silence.
Yashiro floated, weightless, as a final image crystallized in his mind. He was looking down at himself—unconscious, vulnerable. But the vision wasn't his own. It was distant, fractured, as though seen through a single, glowing eye. A soldier crept toward his prone body, blade raised. Yashiro wanted to move, to shout, but he was powerless, trapped in this alien perspective.
A cloaked figure appeared, moving faster than the eye could follow. The soldier fell, lifeless, and the figure raised their hand. A burst of light erupted, blinding and all-consuming. Yashiro saw the battlefield through the figure's eye, the bodies of the Morfiem army scattered like broken toys. He felt the power radiating from the cloaked figure, and though he didn't know who or what they were, the energy was undeniable: it was familiar, deeply, terrifyingly familiar.
The dream ended abruptly, snapping him back to consciousness like a taut rope breaking. Yashiro gasped, his body trembling, his heart racing as if he had truly been there, wherever "there" was. The images faded like smoke, slipping from his grasp no matter how hard he tried to hold onto them.
"What… was that?" he whispered, his voice trembling. The feeling lingered—the sense that everything he had seen, as disjointed and chaotic as it was, meant something. It was all connected, somehow. He just didn't know how, but he could hear a voice calling his out his name.
Zani: Yashiro… Yashiro!
Yashiro: *waking up from a dream* Wha-what happened?
Zani: We won, but what happened to you? How come are you unharmed?
Yashiro: What are you talking about?
Yashiro to himself: Wait, he's right. The last thing I remember is that man stabbing me with his spears.
Yashiro: I don't know. I only remember being hit, and now I'm here. But I feel like I just had a really long dream.
Zani: A dream?
Yashiro: Yes, but I can't remember any of it. The only thing that I remember from it is this wrenching feel in my gut.
Zani: We were all about to die. But something happened and in an instant, we had the upper hand.
Yashiro: What happened?
Zani: I don't know, we were getting outnumbered, and there was this sudden flash of light, and every single one of them fell to the ground with an exception of their leader whom I killed afterwards.
Yashiro: A flash of light? Wait…
Zani: What is it?
Yashiro: I think I saw someone there.
Zani: I thought I felt something too.
Yashiro: I can vaguely remember a person in a dark cloak jumping in the battle, he turned his face at me, but all I could see was this golden glow coming from his eye which intensified over a couple of seconds, and then he disappeared.
Zani: Hm… Interesting.
Yashiro: You think this can be tied to the same "person" that helped you escape yesterday?
Zani: Yes. It would be too big of an coincidence for us to be saved twice in two days just like that.
Yashiro: I suggest we go back to the city.
Zani: We should meet up with lord Takashi to see if there was anything at the eastern gate.
Yashiro: I agree.
Zani: Also, I want to check a few things. Soldiers, attention! I will need you to pick up a few bodies of our fallen enemies and bring them back for an autopsy.
Soldier: Yes sir! Is there a specific one you want or no?
Zani: Just bring anyone and of course don't forget the corpse of Rengoku.
Soldier: Sir yes sir!
Soldier: Lord Zani, Lord Yashiro, your carriage has arrived, you may return to the city now.
Zani: Yeah, thank you.
Soldier: No problem sir!
As Zani and Yashiro climb their carriage, a curious conversation begins.
Yashiro: Why are you taking the corpses with us? Did you find something suspicious?
Zani: Yes. A lot of strange circumstances have occurred, but at first I turned a blind eye on them.
Yashiro: What made you change your mind?
Zani: The final words of Rengoku.
Yashiro: What did he say?
Zani: It's not what he said. It's how he said it.
Yashiro: And that is?
Zani: After that beam of light, it was almost like his whole personality changed. He started speaking in a manner not unique to him. It was like someone else was talking through him. And you know what did he say to me before I killed him?
Yashiro: What?
Zani: He said "I will see you again".
Yashiro: Well that doesn't make sense.
Zani: Unless it does. I have my suspicions but I will expand on that based off of what the autopsy will reveal. What about you? Did you remember something about that dream you said you were having?
Yashiro: Not for now, but I came to an conclusion that the cloaked figure that I saw a few times, and while being unconscious earlier, is the same one which helped you yesterday.
Zani: I figured that too by now. But I didn't see anything before that beam, and you said that you looked at that person for a couple of seconds.
Yashiro: I think it must've been the influence of that dream I was having. Like I said, it felt like both an eternity and a second. I think that distorted my sense of time and that's why I was able to see that person. But there was also something strange that happened while I was in that dream which only now occurs to me.
Zani: What is that?
Yashiro: Before I woke up, I felt like I could see myself outside my body if that makes any sense. Like I was in a different body, because I could see myself approaching my body which was about to be attacked by the enemy.
Zani: Hm, that's interesting, because there was a dead body next to you before I got to you to wake you up.
Yashiro: God, I'm so confused.
Zani: Looks like we made it back.
As the battered soldiers trudged through the gates of Krug, the once-distant rumble of war now a fading echo, the people of the city surged forward to meet them. Men, women, and children alike crowded the streets, their faces etched with gratitude and relief. Some carried baskets of bread and water, offering sustenance to the weary troops, while others clasped their hands in silent thanks. Cries of "Thank you, General Zani!" and "Lord Yashiro, you've saved us again!" rose above the din, a chorus of appreciation that filled the air. The scent of incense wafted from makeshift altars hastily erected in the soldiers' honor, and the warmth of the people's welcome momentarily dulled the ache of battle, reminding the defenders of what they fought so desperately to protect.
Zani: Go home and rest, kid, you need it. I will go meet with Takashi. I've heard that there was no danger on the eastern gate, but it's a mandatory briefing. After that we will assemble the council to discuss the future of the empire.
Yashiro: Okay, notify me if you discover anything new.
Zani: You got it, kid.
As the quiet of the night settled over the city, Yashiro sat in his chamber, the faint glow of the moon casting long shadows across the walls. His mind churned with questions that refused to rest—the dream, the battle, the faint flashes of familiarity that tugged at the edges of his thoughts. He clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. And then, like a spark in the dark, an idea struck him. His father's library. The place he had avoided since Makato's death, thinking it held no answers, suddenly seemed like the only place that might shed light on the mysteries unraveling around him. Rising to his feet, Yashiro resolved to confront whatever truths lay hidden within those dusty tomes.
As Yashiro descended the narrow staircase into the dimly lit library, a strange sensation washed over him—an inexplicable pull, as if something within the room was reaching out to him. His gaze instinctively locked onto the familiar, weathered spine of his father's book on the central table. It was as though the book itself was calling to him, urging him to open it, its presence almost alive in the still air.
Yashiro to himself: What is this feeling? This book is drawing me in!
Yashiro's breath caught as his eyes scanned the first page of the book. Where once there had been nothing but incomprehensible symbols, now a few faint words seemed to shimmer into focus. His heart pounded as he mouthed the words aloud, their meaning sending a chill down his spine. "How… How is this possible?" he whispered, his hands trembling as he turned the page, desperate for answers.