Raizen's personal flashback: The scene of his own transmission. He sees the tense faces of the Zeniths, Hana's worried words, and above all, Kuro's tired but determined face, explaining the risk, the danger, the all-or-nothing nature of the awakening.
Kuro's voice (echoing): If your heart is not pure, Raizen, we will lose you forever... and I will be vulnerable. It's a gamble we both take.
Return to the present. Raizen clenches his fists, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. He finally understands. He understands the weight of the risk Kuro took for him.
Raizen's gaze is lost in the void, retracing the thread of his own memories in the light of this new information. He clenches his fists, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. Takashi Aomi's voice, graver than ever, pulls him from his stupor.
Takashi Aomi: Since that day, Shiro, who learned to love despair and cruelty among the Mukulas, has been searching for his brother's half of the Kara Arkhé. His goal is simple: to devour it, reunite the original seed, and reign as the absolute master over a humanity he despises.
Raizen looks up at his master, a burning question on his lips.
Raizen: But then... why doesn't Master Kuro simply destroy his half? To put an end to all this?
Aomi slowly shakes his head, as if explaining an immutable law of the universe.
Takashi Aomi: Because it cannot be destroyed. The only way to annihilate the Kara Arkhé is to reunite it into a single whole... and then shatter it. That is why this war exists. It is a race for unification, waged for two opposing reasons: destruction or salvation.
A glimmer of bitter understanding crosses Raizen's gaze. He lets out a breath, a joyless smile on his lips.
Raizen: Yes... I understand the logic better now. Otherwise, it would have been too simple.
Aomi approaches Raizen, placing a hand on his shoulder. The contact is heavy, laden with the full weight of their mission.
Takashi Aomi: It is our duty to protect the inhabitants of this world. And to prevent, at all costs, even at the peril of our lives, Shiro Takahashi from getting his hands on the other half. That is our duty. That is your duty, Raizen Vithar.
With these words, Aomi removes his hand. His body seems to lose its substance, melting into the shadows of the Library-Forest. In the blink of an eye, he is gone. Vanished, leaving behind only the weight of his words and the murmur of the waterfall.
Raizen remains alone, motionless, his head bowed. The name "Vithar," his family name that he never uses, resonates within him like an oath.
Fade to black.
The screen splits in two. Split-screen.
ON THE LEFT:
In a clearing bathed in a timeless, still light. In the center rises the Tempio Zenith, a sanctuary with walls of polished stone and ancient beams. Inside, Kuro Takahashi, in a white kimono, meditates. In his palm, his half of the Kara Arkhé: a crystal of pure white, emitting a soft glow. His face is marked by a serene sadness. He bears the burden of preservation.
ON THE RIGHT:
In the "Burning Lair," an underground palace of unreal beauty. Hundreds of lanterns float, illuminating marble walls. In the center, Shiro Takahashi sits on a throne in an opulent sanctuary. In his palm, his half of the Kara Arkhé: a shard of obsidian that absorbs the light. He carries the promise of destruction.
The two brothers, perfect and inverted reflections of each other. Two halves of the same soul, separated by fate, ready to clash for the future of the world. The image remains frozen for a few seconds.
Final fade to black.
In this world, strength is not a gift… it is the price one pays to stay alive.
The Kara is the vital energy that flows through all things. Some shape it to create, others to destroy… but all depend on it to survive.
When the breath of Kara fades, the heart stops beating, and the soul disappears into the eternal shadow.
Black screen. We hear the sound of slow, regular breathing, then the distant song of a morning bird.
The image is blurry, as if seen through eyelids barely opening. The light is soft, filtering through the shutters of a room in the sanctuary.
A strange sensation.
A weight.
Something on the forehead. Smooth, hard, and... yellow?
The focus slowly sharpens. The image becomes clear. Right in front of the eyes, just a few centimeters away, is... a duck bill. Bright yellow. Motionless. Absurd.
Danky's brain took a second to process the information. Then another. And suddenly, panic.
Danky: AAAAAH!
The scream was pure, primal. A shriek of total surprise that made the walls of the small room vibrate. By pure survival reflex, his body reacted before his mind. His fist, charged with the raw energy of an elite fighter, shot out with the force of a cannonball, aiming to pulverize the unidentified object.
The fist cut through the air.
And stopped dead.
A hand had just intercepted it. A hand that hadn't even seemed to move. It closed around Danky's fist, its fingers wrapping around his knuckles with the force of a steel vise. The shockwave of the impact was completely absorbed, without even a vibration.
Before Danky could understand, he felt his entire body being lifted from the bed, brutally, like a mere rag doll. In a fraction of a second, he was flipped over and slammed violently against the wooden floor, which cracked under the pressure. The hand still held his fist, pinning him to the ground, while a knee pressed into his back, immobilizing him completely.
His breath knocked out of him, pain radiating from his shoulder, Danky could only let out a strangled groan.
Danky: (panting, his face pressed against the wood) Okay... I give up... you win...
The pressure disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. A laugh erupted above him. A frank, amused, almost childlike laugh, which completely contrasted with the violence of the previous action.
Duck Bum Darly: (laughing and letting him go) I was told you came back yesterday. Unfortunately, I couldn't see you, I just got back from a mission.
Danky painfully turned over, rubbing his wrist, and looked up at his mentor. Duck Bum Darly stood there, hands in his pockets, his duck-bill-shaped mask displaying a comical neutrality. But behind that mask, Danky could guess the mocking smile and the glint of power in his eyes.
Duck's laughter echoed in the small room, chasing away the tension of the morning confrontation.
Duck: So, how was your trip?
A smile was clearly forming under his mask.
Danky got up, stretching his protesting back. He smiled too, the pain in his wrist already forgotten.
Danky: Long. Tiring. But instructive. with a smile
A few minutes later, with the sun already higher in the sky, both were walking through the corridors of the Zenith hideout in Goma. They had swapped their night clothes for casual city wear, and Duck was carrying a large shoulder bag, angled to conceal the obvious presence of his two swords.
Their walk led them past the infirmary, from which a young Astroforge, Pierre, emerged. Looking tired but conscientious, he held a bundle of medical scrolls under his arm.
Duck Bum Darly: (as he passed, in a cheerful tone) Hey, Pierre! I'm taking a tour of the city with my apprentice!
Pierre stopped dead, a look of panic on his face.
Pierre: But Master Duck, no! You just got back from a mission! You need to rest and have a check-up! If Hana finds out I let you go out...
His protest was lost in the wind. Duck had already grabbed Danky by the collar and started running towards the exit.
Duck: (shouting over his shoulder) Don't worry, it'll be our little secret!
They rushed down the path, leaving poor Pierre frozen in place, his arms full of scrolls, with the look of a man who knows he is already an accomplice to a rule violation.
Their run led them to a dark, anonymous alley in Goma. The air there sizzled for a second, distorting like a heatwave, before the two figures appeared out of nowhere, having passed through the concealment barrier.
Duck took a deep breath, sniffing the city's smells with obvious pleasure.
Duck: So, how about some good buns?
Danky: Hell yeah, of course! I'm starving.
The small restaurant was crowded, vibrant with the noise of conversations and the clatter of chopsticks. But for the past few minutes, a strange silence had fallen. All eyes were turned to a single table. There, a mountain of empty bamboo baskets rose, threatening to collapse at any moment.
Sitting at that table, Duck and Danky, each with a steaming bun in each hand, were devouring their meal at an inhuman speed. The customers, the owner, the waiters... all stared at them, dumbfounded, a mixture of fascination and dread in their eyes.
A customer whispered to his neighbor: Is that... is that their thirtieth basket?
The waitress, who was passing by trembling, corrected: Thirty-second.
Duck finished his bite, swallowed, and raised his hand with a wide smile that almost split his mask.
Duck: Chef! The same again, but double this time!
Behind his counter, the restaurant owner felt a tear of joy (or financial despair) roll down his cheek.
A few moments later
End of Chapter 23