Jin's eyes fluttered open, but the world wasn't the school's roof. No hammock swayed beneath him, no urban forest whispered with vines and trees piercing the city's ruins. Instead, a heavy mist curled around him, the air silent and charged, pressing against his skin like a living thing. He stood before a floating torii gate, its red pillars broken at the base, suspended by nothing. Beyond it, a narrow bridge stretched toward a temple's ruins, its collapsed roof enduring like a monument to forgotten strength. The dreamscape was familiar—the realm where he'd first bonded with Muramasa, a timeless place steeped in ash and silence. Jin's heart steadied, the surreal calm settling over him, but a flicker of awe lingered. This wasn't just a dream; it was a call.