The snow had changed.
It was no longer white.
As Jinryu descended the mountain trail, the once-frozen air shimmered with the aftertaste of corrupted Qi. The blizzard that had veiled the region was gone, replaced by a faint red mist — almost invisible, but suffocating to the senses of a trained martial artist.
Even the cat could feel it. Its tail swished, agitated, ears constantly twitching. It leapt ahead to scout the path, vanishing between pine trees scorched black at the tips.
Jinryu's boots left no trace behind him. His breath, even in the cold, made no mist.
A sign of perfect internal flow — no wasted energy. No weakness shown.
It had been three days since he left the ruins of Baekho Monastery.
Three days since he destroyed the Mythic Core of the corrupted monk.
And still, he felt it.
Something watching.
Far beneath the surface, in the Ivory Bastion, deep within the sealed halls of the Council of Nine, the disturbance had not gone unnoticed.
A man knelt before the High Circle. His robes were pitch black, trimmed in crimson runes. On his back: the insignia of a severed wing.
"The Baekho Sanctuary has fallen," he said calmly, despite the weight of nine auras pressing down on him. "And a Mythic Core was shattered."
The silence was thunderous.
One voice broke it — cold, male, and bored.
"Which one of our dogs was stationed there?"
Another replied — shrill, female, venomous.
"Does it matter? The boy has resurfaced."
The kneeling man looked up. His face was veiled, but his eyes burned with controlled Qi.
"You believe it was him?"
A third voice — heavy, ancient.
"Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Carries Haeryun. Walks with a shadow-cat born of the Obsidian Flame. There is no doubt."
The man bowed his head.
"Shall I engage?"
The High Circle paused.
"No."
A fourth voice now, neither man nor woman — hollow, like something echoing from another plane.
"Observe. The Core within him is not yet awakened. If he dies now, we learn nothing. If he lives… he may lead us to the Gate."
The man rose.
"And if he resists?"
"Then remind him."
"Of what?"
"That the world remembers monsters better than martyrs."
Jinryu awoke to silence.
The fire had long gone cold. The sky above was gray — the kind of gray that made time feel meaningless. Morning? Evening? It didn't matter.
He sat up slowly. The black cat was perched on a nearby branch, staring at something.
Jinryu followed its gaze.
A figure stood at the edge of the clearing.
Tall. Still. Cloaked in black, trimmed in crimson.
Not a Shadow binder. Worse.
A Council Envoy.
The figure raised a hand in greeting, casual, as if bumping into an old friend on a long walk.
"Jinryu of the Broken Path," he said, voice like silk wrapped around steel. "Or do you go by another name now?"
Jinryu didn't respond. His hand brushed the hilt of Haeryun.
The envoy chuckled.
"I am not here to fight. Not unless you make it necessary."
"Then leave."
"Ah, but I can't. Orders, you understand. The Council would like… a conversation."
Jinryu remained silent. But Haeryun had already begun to hum — faint, low, a predator's growl.
The cat hissed.
"Tell them I don't answer to relics."
The envoy smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"Even relics carry swords sharper than time itself."
Without warning, he moved.
In a flash, Jinryu's blade was drawn — steel against steel, sparks flying as the two collided mid-air. The force of the clash sent shockwaves through the forest. Trees cracked. Snow exploded into vapor.
Jinryu stepped back once, adjusting his stance.
The envoy did not press. He was testing him.
"Still restrained," he said. "Good. That means it's still sealed."
Jinryu's eyes narrowed. "You talk too much."
"Maybe. But I'm not your enemy… yet."
The envoy slowly withdrew, flicking his blade once, shaking loose the Qi residue.
"When the time comes, you'll remember this moment. And you'll wish you listened."
He turned his back.
Jinryu didn't strike. Not out of mercy — but because he understood the message. This wasn't an attack.
It was a warning.
And a confirmation.
The Council knew where he was. They were watching. And worse — they were waiting.
As the envoy vanished into the mist, the cat leapt down beside him.
"What now?" it asked, speaking not with words, but with intention. Jinryu heard it in his thoughts — a gift, or curse, from their bond.
He looked toward the distant horizon.
Where, faintly, the Tower of Babel glowed in the clouds — its red star blinking again, brighter now.
"Now," Jinryu murmured, "we find the Gate."
And with it…
the truth behind the Core inside me.