The air was still heavy with dust, the kind that sticks to your skin and your hair no matter how many times you brush it off. I couldn't tell if it was the aftermath of Temaki's pulse or the weight of the city itself holding its breath. Either way, I could feel it—the quiet before the storm, the real one.
I moved carefully, boots crunching over broken concrete, scanning the edges of the plaza. The defenders were scattered, exhausted but alive, faces illuminated by Temaki's glow. And then I saw it—a ripple in the shadows. Subtle, almost like a shiver across the ruins, but my gut twisted the second I noticed it. The shadowed figure hadn't gone anywhere.
Not gone. Waiting. Watching.
My pulse quickened. I could feel Temaki pulsing too, slower now, like it was assessing, weighing, calculating. I swallowed. "Show yourself," I muttered, though my voice sounded small against the ruins. My heart thudded in rhythm with the artifact's pulse, a thump that almost demanded obedience, almost made me feel part of something way bigger than myself.
And then it happened.
The shadowed figure moved—not fast, not in a way that was obvious—but the air around them rippled like heat on asphalt. I could feel their energy, dark, jagged, jagging in and out of sync with Temaki's flow. And suddenly, everything clicked. The artifact's presence wasn't just power—it was a signal. A beacon. And this shadowed figure? They had a plan, and it involved us.
I clenched my fists. My own powers, which had always been a step behind everyone else, were shifting. Subtle at first—a spark here, a pulse there—but growing in intensity. A tingling ran up my arms, down my spine, and I felt it: I could reach the energy threads. The same threads Temaki was flowing through, and for the first time, they responded to me.
I gasped. It wasn't just that I was stronger—it was that I mattered. My connection wasn't perfect, but it was there. The pulse, the energy, the rhythm—it was like learning a new song, stumbling over the first notes, then realizing your hands already know the melody.
The shadowed figure lunged suddenly, a blur in the periphery. Temaki flared, responding with a pulse that knocked debris spinning through the air. I felt the pull again, deeper, urging me forward, forcing my hands to mimic the movements the artifact made instinctively. Energy flowed from me—not as much as Temaki, not yet—but enough to redirect a falling shard of rubble before it crushed one of the defenders.
"Keep moving," I whispered to myself, to anyone listening, though no one could hear. And then, louder, to the artifact: "I'm ready."
The shadowed figure's attack intensified, a jagged streak of darkness that twisted across the plaza like liquid. And that's when I realized: they weren't just attacking—they were probing. Testing Temaki, testing us, testing me. Each strike, each movement was calculated, designed to push the limits, see what would break first.
I raised my hands. Energy hummed up my arms, responding to the artifact's flow, pulsing in a rhythm I could feel through my chest. Sparks danced across my fingertips. My legs moved, almost on instinct, stepping into the current, threading through debris, following the invisible music of power that Temaki set. And it worked. I wasn't just surviving—I was adding to the fight.
The defenders noticed. Heads turned, eyes widening. Flames erupted brighter, ice spiraled faster, kinetic blasts synchronized better than ever. And in the center, Temaki pulsed, almost like it was proud, almost like it had been waiting for someone—me—to finally step into the rhythm.
The shadowed figure froze mid-strike, and I saw it: hesitation. Just for a second, but enough. I didn't know how, but my new connection, however raw, had done something. I had interfered, just a pulse, a little spark, and the figure faltered.
And that's when I felt it—the surge. Power building, stronger than anything I'd ever felt, racing from my core, following the beat, the invisible thread, the rhythm of the artifact. A shiver shot down my spine, and without thinking, I let it out. Energy exploded from my hands in a wave, flowing toward the shadowed figure, weaving through Temaki's own pulse like we were dancing together.
The world bent. Light fractured across the ruins. The shadowed figure screamed—not a human scream, but a distortion of sound itself, like metal tearing in two. And in that moment, I understood something crystal clear: I wasn't just part of the fight anymore. I was part of the force.
The defenders cheered—or maybe they just gasped—but I didn't notice. My attention was locked, completely, on the figure now trembling in the center of the chaos, facing a power they hadn't accounted for. Temaki pulsed in approval. My heartbeat synced perfectly with the artifact's rhythm. I felt unstoppable.
But then… I felt it. Another pull. Stronger, deeper. And I realized: this wasn't the end. Not even close. The shadowed figure had only revealed a fraction of what they could do. And if we weren't careful, if I wasn't careful, the next move could tear everything apart.
I swallowed hard, sensing the thrill, the danger, the uncharted power coursing through me. And even though I was shaking, even though my muscles ached, even though my chest felt like it might explode, I smiled.
Because I wasn't afraid anymore. Not completely. Not when Temaki and I—and maybe even the defenders—were finally on the same wavelength.
The shadowed figure hissed, energy crackling in impossible arcs, and I knew, without a doubt, that the real battle was about to begin.
And this time? I was ready.