The battlefield wasn't quiet—not really. Even as the smoke thinned and the dust settled, there was a hum, like the world itself had caught its breath. And me? I couldn't stop staring. Temaki hung there, suspended in the middle of the rubble, light pulsing like it had a heartbeat, and I swear the air around it shimmered, like reality was suddenly a suggestion rather than a rule.
I stepped forward, boots crunching over splintered stone, trying not to look too small in the shadow of what had just risen. My chest felt tight—not with fear, exactly—but like the universe had just shown me something I wasn't sure I was ready to see. The defenders around me moved like they'd been touched by the same current; their powers—once clumsy, erratic—now flowed like rivers in tune with Temaki's rhythm.
And then I heard it. Not a sound, exactly—more like a vibration that tickled my bones, resonating deep inside me. My fingers twitched, almost of their own accord, as if they remembered some ancient choreography I had forgotten I knew. And that's when I realized something that made my stomach flip: Temaki wasn't just powerful. It was aware. It knew we were here.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the reinforcements retreating, scrambling over one another, faces twisted in shock and terror. That shadowed figure from before… yeah, they were gone—or at least hiding—but the sense of being watched, hunted, hadn't left. And somehow, that made the calm here even scarier.
I shook my head, trying to focus. My teammates were moving now, forming lines and circling the artifact, their attacks syncing perfectly, effortlessly, like they were part of something much bigger than themselves. Every flame, every shard of ice, every kinetic strike—they weren't just fighting anymore. They were dancing with Temaki.
I swallowed hard. I wanted to join, to contribute, but every time I stepped forward, my feet felt like lead. Like maybe the artifact had already judged me and was deciding whether I belonged in this fight.
Then, abruptly, Temaki shifted. The pulse intensified, radiating outward in sudden waves that knocked us off balance. A shard of debris spun past my head, narrowly missing my shoulder. My heart skipped a beat. That was the first time I felt fear, real fear, in a while—not of losing, not of dying, but of being irrelevant in the presence of something so incomprehensible.
And then I heard a voice.
Not from anyone around me—no one was talking—but inside me. At first, I thought it was my imagination, my brain catching up to the chaos. But it wasn't. It was Temaki. Not words, exactly, but shapes of thought, images, a pulling at the edges of my mind.
"Do you understand?" the thought asked. Do you understand what's coming?
I blinked. Swallowing felt weird. My throat felt dry. "I—I think so," I whispered out loud, though I wasn't sure if I meant it. The world had tilted, everything vibrating in a frequency I could almost taste.
Temaki pulsed again, faster this time, sending arcs of blinding light dancing across the wreckage. The defenders stiffened, waiting for some signal, some instruction. And then—just like that—it pointed… no, not like a person pointing. Energy spiraled from its form toward the north side of the city, tearing through buildings, folding streets, bending the world in ways that shouldn't be physically possible.
And then I saw it. The enemy hadn't vanished. Far from it. They were regrouping, huddled in the shadows of what was left of the city, whispering, plotting. But now their fear was tangible, and even from a distance, it radiated like a warning: Do not underestimate what has risen.
I glanced at my teammates. They looked like statues in mid-movement, awe and adrenaline locked on their faces. And I realized something scary—something thrilling: we were no longer fighting the battle we thought we were. This… this was bigger. Way bigger. The battlefield wasn't just streets and rubble anymore—it was every pulse, every heartbeat, every flicker of energy. And if Temaki had awakened, maybe we'd been asleep until now.
I felt my fingers tingle. I could feel the artifact's rhythm threading through me, like invisible strings pulling at my nerves, connecting me to something older than memory. My vision blurred with sparks of color, arcs of fire and ice catching at the corners, weaving patterns I couldn't name but somehow recognized. And I realized, finally, that I wasn't just an observer here. I had a part to play.
The first sign came in the form of a whisper from one of the defenders beside me. "Do you feel that?" she asked, eyes wide. I nodded, unable to speak. Because yeah. I felt it. The way Temaki's energy stretched out, folding the battlefield like a living map, brushing against every living thing in range. It was like the air itself was alive, and if you didn't move with it, it would crush you under its weight.
And then it came—the first strike of what I knew was going to be a series of impossible attacks. A column of energy ripped from the north, bending like a whip, and I barely jumped out of the way in time. Behind me, someone shouted, and I saw flames erupt in midair, catching on invisible currents, twisting like dancers frozen in mid-leap.
"Focus," the whisper inside my head said again. Do not be afraid.
I clenched my fists. My own powers, weak compared to this, surged anyway, in tune with the artifact. I could feel the threads pulling me forward, telling me to move, to act, to be. And even though fear still sat heavy in my chest, there was something else—a thrill, a pulse, a surge of energy that made my hair stand on end.
Then came the chaos. The reinforcements we thought had retreated returned, though not with confidence. They moved cautiously, testing the boundaries of Temaki's influence, their attacks hesitant, faltering. And the shadowed figure—yeah, they were back, hiding in plain sight, a ripple of darkness moving too fast to track—watching, calculating, waiting for a mistake.
But we weren't making mistakes. Not now. Not with Temaki alive. Every move we made was guided, every strike a brushstroke in some impossible painting of power and control. And in that moment, I realized something terrifying and beautiful: the battlefield had changed, yes—but we had changed with it.
I took a deep breath. Temaki pulsed. My heartbeat matched it, or maybe it was the other way around. I could feel the energy stretching, pulling, expanding. And then—without warning—the artifact released a wave so powerful it knocked me to my knees, sending debris spinning in arcs that looked almost beautiful in the air.
Pain shot through my shoulder, but I didn't care. The energy was intoxicating. I could see, smell, taste it. And in that instant, I understood, in a way that went beyond words. This wasn't just power. This was a calling. And the enemy… the shadowed figure… they were next.
Temaki pulsed again, a signal, a heartbeat, a command. And I knew it wasn't just asking for obedience—it was demanding courage. And somehow, for the first time, I felt like maybe I had it.
Because if we could survive this—and I wasn't even sure survive was the right word—if we could rise with Temaki, then maybe, just maybe, we could change everything.
The battlefield hummed, the city itself shivering with anticipation. And somewhere deep inside, I smiled. Fear was still there—it had to be—but so was the spark. The spark that said we weren't done. Not by a long shot.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, silence fell. Not the eerie kind that comes before a disaster, but the kind that comes after a storm, when the world takes a moment to exhale. I raised my head, blinking against the light, and saw Temaki hovering there, massive, radiant, unstoppable.
And I knew. The real war was only just starting.