The morning sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of Mistfall Dojo as the newly
chosen twelve gathered for their final moments in familiar territory. The crystalline tokens they
carried seemed to pulse with increased intensity in the dawn light, as if responding to the
proximity of destiny itself.
Itsuki stood with Takumi and Kairo near the eastern edge of the courtyard, watching as their
fellow selectees made their final preparations for departure. The atmosphere was charged with
a mixture of excitement and apprehension—they were about to leave behind everything they
had ever known for training that would reshape them in ways none of them could fully
comprehend.
"Still can't believe Shion isn't here," Takumi muttered, his golden eyes reflecting frustrated
disappointment as he stared at the spot where their friend should have been standing. His
usually vibrant flame-touched hair seemed subdued in the morning light, mirroring his
dampened spirits.
Kairo nodded grimly, his amber eyes thoughtful as he adjusted the worn leather strap of his
travel pack. "The healers said he left the infirmary sometime before dawn. No one saw him go,
no note, no explanation. It's like he just vanished."
The void where their friend should have been felt more profound than simple absence. They
had visited Shion the previous evening, offering what comfort they could for his exclusion from
the trials, but his pain had been too raw for their words to reach. Now he was gone entirely,
leaving behind only questions and the hollow ache of friendship strained beyond its breaking
point.
"Maybe it's better this way," Itsuki said quietly, though his ice-blue eyes betrayed his uncertainty.
"Watching us leave for Zenkai Dojo while he stayed behind... that would have been harder on
him than facing an empty room."
The conversation was interrupted by Instructor Amari's approach, his measured stride carrying
him across the courtyard with the purpose that marked all his movements. Behind him came
Laen Neves, the dojo's sensei, whose sharp gray eyes held the weight of decades spent
training warriors and watching them depart for greater challenges.
"The transport arrives within the hour," Amari announced to the assembled group. "Use this time
to say your farewells and ensure you have everything necessary for the journey ahead. Once
we depart Mistfall, there will be no opportunities to retrieve forgotten belongings."
Near the dojo's main entrance, families clustered around their departing children with
expressions that mixed pride and worry in equal measure. Itsuki could see his own parents
approaching—his father Kaito's powerful frame moving with controlled grace, while his mother
Nina's gentle presence seemed to calm the very air around her.
"My son," Nina said softly as she reached him, her silver eyes holding depths that spoke to
experiences far beyond the peaceful life she had chosen in Mistfall. "Are you prepared for what
lies ahead?"
Itsuki nodded, though he wondered if anyone could truly be prepared for training at Zenkai Dojo.
"As ready as I can be, Mother. The techniques I've learned here, the foundation you and Father
have given me—I'll build on that."
Kaito placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, his deep brown eyes serious. "Remember what
we discussed about your ability," he said quietly. "Abstract Shift is unlike anything the instructors
at Zenkai will have encountered before. They may not understand its full potential, or its
dangers. Trust your instincts above their theories."
The warning carried weight beyond its simple words. Itsuki's Abstract Shift remained largely
mysterious even to him—the power to alter the abstract nature of objects defied easy
categorization or prediction. Where others could demonstrate the limits and applications of their
abilities with precision, his remained fluid, unpredictable, and occasionally unsettling in its
implications.
"And remember," Nina added, her voice taking on the gentle firmness that had guided him
through childhood, "strength without wisdom leads to destruction. The most powerful ability
means nothing if the heart that guides it is empty."
Across the courtyard, he could see similar scenes playing out as other families shared their final
moments together. Takumi's parents—Raelion and Miyana Leo—stood with their son near the
weapon racks, the master craftsman offering last-minute advice while his wife's healing abilities
worked subtly to ensure Takumi was in peak condition for the journey ahead.
Kairo's farewell was more subdued, his father Renji's weather-worn features holding pride mixed
with the grief that had never fully left him since Sora's disappearance. The cracked hourglass
pendant at Kairo's throat caught the morning light, a reminder of the mother who had vanished
into missions too dangerous for ordinary understanding.
"She would be proud," Renji said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of years spent wondering
about his lost wife's fate. "Your mother always said you had the potential to walk between
shadows and light. Perhaps at Zenkai, you'll learn how to find her path again."
The comment struck Itsuki as oddly significant, though he couldn't say why. There had always
been mysteries surrounding Sora Huisji's disappearance—official reports spoke of a mission
gone wrong, but the details remained classified at levels far above local authority.
As the morning progressed, the chosen twelve began to coalesce into a more cohesive group.
Personalities that had been hidden behind competitive facades during the trials began to
emerge as the pressure of evaluation lifted and the reality of shared experience took hold.
Nayen Krayth maintained her quiet intensity, but Itsuki noticed how her eyes tracked movement
around the courtyard with tactical precision. Her defeat of Shion had been decisive, but there
was no arrogance in her bearing—only the careful awareness of someone who understood that
every victory was temporary and every opponent deserved respect.
Drayce Harkin seemed more relaxed now that the uncertainty was behind him, his earlier defeat
against Itsuki apparently transformed into motivation rather than discouragement. He moved
among the other selectees with easy confidence, making conversation and building the social
connections that would serve him well during training.
But it was Sayaka Veyra who commanded the most attention, even when she wasn't actively
participating in conversations. The designated student leader carried herself with an aura of
controlled lethality that made others unconsciously maintain respectful distances. Her violet
eyes seemed to catalog every interaction, every gesture, every unguarded expression with the
precision of someone accustomed to reading threats and opportunities in equal measure.
When she approached Itsuki near the dojo's meditation garden, her movement was fluid and
purposeful, like water flowing around obstacles toward an inevitable destination.
"Naoya," she said by way of greeting, her voice carrying harmonics that seemed designed to
resonate with essence-frequencies. "We should speak before departure."
"About what?" Itsuki replied, though some instinct told him this conversation would be significant
beyond its simple words.
"About the fact that your ability defies analysis," Sayaka said bluntly. "During the trials, I could
read the essence-patterns of every other participant. Predict their moves, understand their
limitations, plan countermeasures accordingly. But you..." She paused, her violet eyes studying
his face with uncomfortable intensity. "It was like trying to read text written in a language that
changes its alphabet between words."
The observation struck him as both accurate and troubling. If his Abstract Shift truly was as
unpredictable as she suggested, then the training ahead might prove more challenging than he
had anticipated. Traditional instruction methods relied on understanding and
categorization—teachers needed to comprehend their students' abilities in order to guide their
development effectively.
"Is that why you chose to speak with me now?" Itsuki asked.
"Partially," Sayaka admitted. "But also because unpredictable elements can be either valuable
assets or dangerous liabilities in group situations. As student leader, I need to understand which
category you fall into before we're in situations where that distinction matters."
Her directness was refreshing after the careful diplomacy that had characterized most
interactions during the trial period. Here was someone who valued clarity over courtesy, results
over relationships. It was an approach that could either foster excellence or create destructive
friction, depending on how it was applied.
"I'm not your enemy," Itsuki said simply. "But I'm also not someone who follows orders without
understanding their purpose."
"Good," Sayaka replied, surprising him with what might have been approval. "Blind obedience
creates weak warriors. I prefer companions who think for themselves, even when it makes
coordination more complex."
Before their conversation could continue further, the sound of approaching hoofbeats
announced the arrival of their transport. But what emerged from the morning mist was unlike
anything Itsuki had ever seen—not horses or wagons, but creatures that seemed to embody the
intersection between flesh and essence itself.
The mounts were clearly based on some equine foundation, but their forms flickered between
physical solidity and ethereal energy. Their manes flowed like liquid starlight, their eyes held
depths that spoke to intelligence far beyond animal consciousness, and their hooves left traces
of luminescent energy that faded slowly from the ground.
"Essence-wraiths," Amari explained as he approached the gathering. "Beings of pure
concentrated essence given form through ancient binding techniques. They can traverse
distances that would take conventional transport days or weeks, moving through dimensional
spaces that exist parallel to normal reality."
The creatures were beautiful and unsettling in equal measure, their forms shifting subtly as they
responded to the emotional states of those around them. When Takumi approached with his
characteristic boldness, the nearest wraith's form took on subtle reddish undertones that
matched his fire-touched nature. When Kairo moved closer, the same creature seemed to
become slightly more translucent, as if acknowledging his teleportation abilities.
But when Itsuki stepped forward, something unexpected happened. The essence-wraith he
approached seemed to falter, its form flickering between states of existence with increasing
instability. Its starlight mane dimmed and brightened erratically, and its luminous eyes held what
could only be described as confusion.
"Interesting," Amari murmured, his voice carrying notes of concern and curiosity in equal
measure. "Essence-wraiths typically resonate harmoniously with their riders' abilities. I've never
seen one react with such... uncertainty."
The creature eventually stabilized, though it continued to regard Itsuki with what seemed like
cautious respect rather than the easy acceptance it showed toward the others. As he settled
into the specialized saddle—a construct of essence-charged materials that adapted to his
body's contours—he found himself wondering again about the true nature of his Abstract Shift
ability.
The departure from Mistfall was both ceremonial and practical. As the twelve mounted their
essence-wraith steeds, families and instructors gathered to offer final blessings and farewells.
But there was also an underlying urgency that spoke to schedules maintained across vast
distances and carefully coordinated timing.
"Remember," Amari called out as the wraiths began to respond to their riders' intentions, "the
journey to Zenkai Dojo will take us through dimensional spaces where normal rules of time and
distance are suspended. Stay close to the formation, trust your mounts, and do not attempt to
influence the journey's progress through your own abilities. The paths we travel exist in delicate
balance."
The world began to shift around them as the essence-wraiths entered their traveling state.
Reality became fluid, the familiar landscapes of Mistfall dissolving into streams of color and light
that flowed past them like rivers of liquid time. The sensation was unlike anything Itsuki had
experienced—simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying, as if they were moving through the very
dreams of creation itself.
Through the flowing streams of dimensional transit, he caught glimpses of places that defied
description—crystalline cities that hung suspended in seas of liquid starlight, forests where the
trees grew downward from clouds that pulsed with their own inner light, and vast plains where
herds of creatures made entirely of concentrated music grazed on meadows of solidified sound.
But beneath the wonder of the journey, Itsuki found himself thinking about absence—the empty
space where Shion should have been riding alongside them, sharing in this incredible
experience and preparing for the challenges ahead. His friend's absence felt like a missing note
in a musical composition, creating discord where there should have been harmony.
Far from the traveling company of chosen students, in a place where mist moved with purpose
and shadows held depths that light could never fully penetrate, Shion Enther stood on the
threshold of discoveries that would reshape his understanding of reality itself.
The realm he had entered with the mysterious stranger was unlike anywhere he had ever
imagined—a landscape where memory itself seemed to have physical substance, where
thoughts took on visible form, and where the very air whispered with voices of experiences that
had been deliberately forgotten.
"Welcome to the Shadowlands of Dravon," the cloaked figure said, his voice carrying harmonics
that made the surrounding mist respond like a living thing. "A place where the boundaries
between thought and reality have grown... negotiable."
Before them stretched a domain that defied conventional description. The ground beneath their
feet seemed solid enough, but it shifted subtly with each step, as if responding to their
expectations rather than following fixed laws of physics. The sky overhead was neither day nor
night, but something altogether different—a twilight realm where stars flickered in patterns that
suggested meaning just beyond comprehension.
"Who are you?" Shion asked, though he suspected the answer would raise more questions than
it resolved.
The stranger pushed back his hood, revealing features that belonged to someone who might
have been in his thirties or his thousandth year—ageless in the way that spoke to power beyond
mortal limitations. His hair was white as fresh snow but held streaks of absolute black, as if light
and shadow had reached some kind of accommodation in his very essence. His eyes were
silver, but they held depths that seemed to reflect not light but the absence of light, as if they
were windows into spaces where illumination went to die.
"I am Tsuyari," he said simply, and the name hit Shion like a physical blow. "Fourth Trueborn of
Vilaris. Master of Dravon. And your teacher, if you prove worthy of instruction."
Shion's legs nearly gave out beneath him as the implications crashed over him in waves. A
Trueborn. One of the six immortal beings who had shaped the world itself, who commanded
powers that existed beyond the comprehension of ordinary Virelians, who stood at the pinnacle
of all existence in ways that made kings and emperors seem like children playing at authority.
And he was standing in Tsuyari's domain, invited here by the Trueborn himself, offered training
that would apparently unlock potentials in his ability that he hadn't even suspected existed.
"Why?" Shion managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would one of the
Trueborn be interested in a failed trial participant?"
Tsuyari smiled, and the expression held depths of amusement that might have been genuine or
might have been something far more dangerous. "Because failure and success are often
matters of perspective," he replied. "What your instructors saw as limitation, I recognize as
potential waiting for proper cultivation."
He gestured, and the mist around them began to swirl with increased purpose, forming shapes
that resolved into scenes from Shion's past—his early experiments with his Spectral Refrain
ability, his growing awareness of the voices that whispered to him during intense uses of his
power, his increasing ability to glimpse things that existed beyond normal reality.
"Your Spectral Refrain is not simply the ability to create echoes of past actions," Tsuyari
explained as the misty visions danced around them. "It is a bridge between what was, what is,
and what could be. The voices you hear are not hallucinations—they are communications from
versions of yourself that exist in parallel possibilities."
The revelation struck Shion with the force of truth recognized rather than truth learned. Deep in
his essence, something resonated with recognition and relief—finally, someone who understood
that his ability was more than what it appeared to be, who could see the potential rather than
fixating on the limitations.
"But why come to me now?" Shion asked. "Why reveal this after I've already failed to meet the
standards of conventional training?"
"Because conventional training would have constrained you," Tsuyari replied, his silver eyes
holding depths that spoke to experiences spanning millennia. "The instructors at Zenkai Dojo,
skilled though they are, think in terms of established categories and proven methodologies.
They would have tried to force your ability into existing frameworks, limiting it to safe
applications that pose no threat to their understanding."
As if responding to his words, the mist around them began to shift again, this time forming
images of possible futures—scenes where Shion's abilities had been developed along
conventional lines, creating echoes with perfect precision but never accessing the deeper
potentials that lay waiting in the spaces between realities.
"I offer something different," Tsuyari continued. "Training that will teach you to stop being a
passive observer of echoes and start being an active creator of possibilities. The power to reach
through the veil between what is and what could be, to bring potentials into reality through will
and understanding."
The promise was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. Shion could feel his Spectral
Refrain responding to something in the Trueborn's presence, resonating with harmonics that
made the familiar voices in his mind sing with increased clarity and purpose.
"What would such training involve?" he asked, though part of him was already committed
regardless of the answer.
"Pain," Tsuyari said bluntly. "Growth beyond your current limitations requires the destruction of
the boundaries that currently define you. You will be pushed past breaking points, forced to
confront aspects of your own essence that comfortable instruction would leave safely
unexplored."
He gestured again, and the mist formed new images—training regimens that seemed designed
to test not just physical and mental limits but the fundamental structure of identity itself. Shion
saw himself in scenarios that challenged his understanding of reality, forced him to question
assumptions about the nature of existence, and required him to embrace possibilities that would
terrify most minds into paralysis.
"But also power," Tsuyari continued. "The ability to create echoes of events that have never
occurred, to manifest possibilities that exist only in potential, to bridge the gap between
imagination and reality through precise manipulation of essence-structures."
The images in the mist shifted to show Shion wielding abilities that defied everything he thought
he knew about his own power. Creating echoes that influenced the present rather than simply
reflecting the past, reaching through dimensional barriers to access knowledge and skills from
alternate versions of himself, and ultimately learning to write new chapters in reality's story
through the controlled application of will and understanding.
"Why?" Shion asked again, but this time the question carried different weight. "Why offer this to
me specifically? What makes me worth the attention of a Trueborn?"
Tsuyari's expression grew more serious, and for the first time, Shion caught glimpses of
something that might have been vulnerability beneath the immortal being's composed exterior.
"Because changes are coming to Vilaris," he said quietly. "Forces are stirring that will challenge
the foundations upon which our world has been built for millennia. The comfortable stability that
has defined existence in Astralyn is about to be tested in ways that conventional power cannot
address."
The mist around them darkened, taking on undertones that spoke to threats existing beyond
normal comprehension. In its shifting patterns, Shion caught fragmentary glimpses of conflicts
that seemed to transcend physical reality—battles fought in the spaces between thoughts, wars
waged over the fundamental nature of existence itself.
"Your friends who were accepted into Zenkai Dojo will receive excellent training in the
application of established techniques," Tsuyari continued. "They will become formidable
warriors, skilled in the arts of combat and essence manipulation. But they will be fighting
tomorrow's battles with yesterday's understanding."
He stepped closer, his silver eyes boring into Shion's with intensity that seemed to bypass
physical sight and connect directly with his essence.
"You, if you accept what I offer, will learn to see the battles that others cannot perceive, to fight
on levels of reality that most minds cannot access, and to wield power that exists in the spaces
between conventional understanding and impossible achievement."
The offer hung in the air between them like a bridge spanning an infinite chasm. On one side lay
everything Shion had ever known—the familiar pain of limitation, the comfortable boundaries of
accepted possibility, the safety of mediocrity disguised as wisdom. On the other side waited
transformation beyond imagining, power that came with prices he couldn't yet comprehend, and
the terrible responsibility of abilities that could reshape the very nature of reality.
"If I accept," Shion said slowly, "what happens to who I am now?"
"That person was already dying," Tsuyari replied with brutal honesty. "The boy who failed the
trials, who watched his friends succeed while he remained behind, who felt the weight of his
limitations crush his dreams—that version of yourself cannot survive what's coming. The
question is whether you choose conscious transformation or allow circumstances to reshape
you randomly."
The truth of the statement resonated through Shion's essence with recognition that was both
liberating and terrifying. The person he had been was indeed dying, had been dying since the
moment his name wasn't called during the trial announcements. He could feel the old version of
himself fragmenting, leaving empty spaces where certainty used to exist.
"How long would the training take?" he asked.
"Time moves differently here than in the conventional world," Tsuyari replied. "Years of
instruction can be compressed into what others experience as days or weeks. But the changes
you undergo will be permanent, irreversible, and profound beyond your current capacity to
understand."
Shion looked around at the realm where memory took physical form and possibilities whispered
their secrets to those willing to listen. This was a place where the fundamental rules of existence
were negotiable, where limits existed only as starting points for transcendence, and where
power waited for those brave enough to pay its price.
"I accept," he said finally, the words carrying weight that seemed to resonate through the very
essence of the realm around them.
Tsuyari smiled, and this time the expression held genuine approval mixed with something that
might have been relief.
"Then let us begin your real education," he said, gesturing toward structures that materialized
from the mist like thoughts becoming reality. "Welcome to your new life, Shion Enther. May you
prove worthy of the destiny you have chosen."
As they walked deeper into the realm of forgotten possibilities, Shion felt the last connections to
his old identity stretching and finally snapping. Behind him lay the boy who had dreamed of
conventional success and acceptance. Ahead waited someone who would learn to dream new
realities into existence.
The transformation had begun.
Back in the flowing streams of dimensional transit, Itsuki suddenly gasped as another fragment
of the white void vision crashed over him. But this time, the pristine emptiness contained echoes
of a conversation he shouldn't have been able to hear, images of a realm where mist held
memory and a friend made choices that would echo through all their futures.
Through the dimensional space around him, he caught glimpses of silver eyes and voices that
whispered of changes coming to remake the foundations of reality itself.
And somewhere in the depths of his Abstract Shift ability, something stirred in
response—recognizing, perhaps, that the abstract nature of existence itself was about to be
tested in ways none of them could imagine.