Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The repeated sound of punching the wooden post was the only sound Riku Shinsora was used to for the next four days. At this point, it was getting a little boring. First it was mastering leakage prevention, and the grueling hours of visualizing his mantra and gate weren't fun, despite their payoff.
This was very much the same.
At one point, he could see small droplets of blood staining his knuckles. Ordinarily, they would hurt. But they didn't.
And that took away the point of it all.
Why would I need this? It doesn't even hurt anymore! Isn't that the point?
He stepped back, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. Exhaling through his nose, Riku squared back up again.
The training yard of the Ecliptic Vault was quiet. All that was to be heard was the wooden post that bore his frustration. Not even the hums of cicadas or the chatter of Akio, Mei, Renjirō, or Sayaka was to be heard. It was slowly maddening.
The post wasn't the first to take Riku's blows. In the four days, Renjirō had supplied Riku with items of lesser fortification. The smaller ones—thin stumps of pine and reinforced bark—had splintered under his fists days ago. Those were easy victories, hollow ones, each lasting shorter than the last.
But this post… this damned post wouldn't budge.
Riku dented it severely, yes, carving in a patchwork of cracked lines across the middle. The wood had mostly degraded from the pristine form it had a few days prior. Yet, like a stubborn mule, it refused.
The sun had already begun to descend behind the roof of the Ecliptic Vault, and the light was fading just as quick as Riku's interest.
His shirt clung to him, damp with sweat. His breathing was steady, though, more controlled than it used to be.
He closed his eyes.
Riku tried to feel it again. The mantra... No, the ink, coalescing into phrases that wrapped tightly around his arms like a coil. It used to be wild, erratic. Now it was steadier, obedient. It listened. He could guide it to his limbs, make it course through his veins until his body felt light but solid, sharp but grounded.
As Dr. Tsukimura had said before, what he need at his bequest was density. And that density would only come with repeated practice and refinery. If he didn't shatter it then, he'd shatter it later.
"The more you effectively engage your muscles and bones with reinforcement, the more density you'll naturally build."
Those were the last words Renjirō had told Riku in these four days. And here Riku was, trying his best to wrap his head around it all.
He crouched slightly, exhaling slow. The dented post stood silent before him, as if mocking him for trying again. His knuckles brushed against it — rough, cold, and scarred. A mirror of his own hands.
Riku stepped back. Planted his feet. Inhaled. And let mantra flood him one more time.
The world dulled around him for a moment. The silence from before was even more pronounced and all he could feel was the power surging through his arm. All that existed was the thread of energy coiling from his gate — from the center of his forehead, settling in his fists.
He struck.
Thwack!
The post trembled violently. Splinters flew. A small crack appeared where there was once only a dent.
He didn't stop. His fists moved again, a blur of repetition and rhythm.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Every hit layered over the last, guided not by desperation now, but by control. Each punch hummed with resonance, mantra and muscle working together in unison.
The crack deepened.
And then — it happened.
With one final strike, his fist drove through the post. The wood splintered open with a sharp, cracking sound that echoed through the courtyard. Dust and tiny fragments burst outward, scattering across the ground.
He blinked once.Then twice.
A small, tired smile tugged at his lips.
"…Finally."
It wasn't triumphant. It wasn't loud. It was quiet — the kind of satisfaction that came after countless failures. The kind that didn't need celebration.
It wasn't clean, like Dr. Tsukimura's. Messy was a better term for the process. But he did it regardless. The wooden post — which had seemed like constant reminder of stagnation, was now nothing but destroyed ruin.
Behind him, a sound broke the silence.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow, deliberate claps.
Riku turned around.
Sayaka Uro was leaning against the entry gate, her posture as lazy as ever, one hand half-raised in a mock applause. Her eyes, half-lidded as usual, glinted faintly in the amber light of dusk. Beside her stood Renjirō, arms folded and an approving smile crossing his face.
"Well, well," Sayaka said, drawing out her words as she sauntered forward, each step unhurried. "You actually managed to do it before the weeks was over. Congrats. Now, I don't have to lose sleep over the sound of you punching your bones off." She groaned, almost as if reliving some kind of horror.
Riku shifted his gaze towards Renjirō, who's smile was filled with pride and knowing. "Told you you'd pull it off."
Riku smiled a little sheepishly. "Guess so..."
Sayaka stood like she just crawled out of bed, although Riku knew she had been up and about for much longer than even he had. "Not as clean as we'd hoped, but it'll do for now, I suppose." she said.
Renjirō stepped up beside Riku, glancing down at the shattered post. His smile widened slightly. "You know what this means, don't you?"
Riku looked up at him. "What?"
"You're ready," Renjirō said simply. "Ready to take on professional cases."
The words hung in the air for a moment, heavier than they should've been. Riku's heart skipped. A faint wind swept through the courtyard, stirring the splinters at his feet.
Sayaka smirked slightly. "Congratulations. Don't ride your high horse though. This is no reward."
Riku exhaled, half-laughing despite the ache in his arms. "I'll try not to."
Renjirō patted his shoulder once more, the warmth in his touch unmistakable. "Rest for today. Tomorrow, you and Sayaka will visit the conservatory. There's something there I think you should see."
Riku raised an eyebrow. "The conservatory?"
Renjirō nodded, closing his eyes. "Ms. Uro here wishes to take you to the Renshō Conservatory of Kaigenryo. Every region of the Palimpsest holds a conservatory in one of its cities. There's... something we'd like to teach you."
Riku looked at Sayaka, wondering why she of all people wanted to go, and why she wished to take him over the others.
Sayaka spoke up, her voice exuding indifference. "Don't concern yourself with why. Just rest up in your room. Or go visit Tetsuya in the medical wing. I don't know, do whatever."
Riku's eyes widened.
Tetsuya...
Riku had been so busy, toiling his body away at learning the basics, that he completely forgot about why he was even here in the first place.
He ran back into the Ecliptic Vault, bursting past the doors and zipping through the corridors without even looking back.
"He remembers at the worst possible times." Sayaka said.
Why did I forget? Why am I so stupid?!
That's all Riku could think of as he ran.
The sterile scent of incense-mixed disinfectant hit him the moment the sliding door opened.
The medical wing of the Ecliptic Vault was quiet. Too quiet. Riku saw white screens that partitioned the room into narrow bays, each were lit with lanterns that pulsed like heartbeats.
Riku turned his head to the second bed on the left.
Tetsuya lay there.
Thin silver tubes—etched with spiraling azure glyphs—ran from his arms to a spherical device suspended beside the bed. With each slow breath the machine exhaled, faint black mist was pulled from Tetsuya's skin and consumed by the rotating core within. His chest rose and fell, a breathing apparatus strapped across his nose, each inhale whistling faintly, like wind through a cracked flute.
Riku's fingers curled. His throat felt tight.
Tetsuya did look better than when Riku last saw him. His skin was regaining some of its old complexion, his breathing was deeper, the rise and fall of his chest wasn't as erratic and nerve-wracking as before.
How long do I have to wait?
"You need a minute?"
Renjirō's voice came from behind. He walked in with a quiet stride, hands tucked into his sleeves. Sayaka followed lazily, a stick of pocky between her teeth, as if she'd just wandered in by accident.
"He's stable," Renjirō said calmly.
Riku didn't respond. He just… stared.
"You said that when I saw him the first time... What does stable even mean anymore?" he said.
"The malevolent mantra signature inside him has dropped to less than a quarter of what it was when you brought him in," Sayaka added, her tone flat but not unkind.
A gentle rustle of cloth.
A woman in healer robes stepped into the bay, bowing briefly. Her hair was tied into a neat low bun, silver-rimmed spectacles reflecting the glyphs from the filtration core.
"I'm Shiori Kanzaki, head nurse for the Moonless Court. It's nice to meet you, Riku Shinsora." The woman lightly bowed her head.
Riku blinked, startled that she knew his name. He nodded mutely and reciprocated.
Nurse Shiori gave a professional smile and gestured to the machine. "This is a mantra disjunction coil.
It monitors his internal flow and isolates any residual malevolent mantra. Instead of purging it violently—which would damage his channels—we draw it out slowly through binding vectors etched into these conduits."
She tapped one of the tubes gently. The glyphs pulsed once, reacting to her touch.
"The removed mantra is neutralized in the core chamber and stored as inert residue. Once extraction is complete, he'll wake naturally."
Riku's eyes traced the black residue swirling inside the core. It looked like ash in water.
"That's… from him?" he muttered. It sickened him, that something so grotesque was coming from his friend.
"Yes," the nurse said. "But don't worry. He'll be fine once he wakes up. Whole, complete, and healthy. He might be a bit disoriented when he wakes up, but that too shall pass."
Riku exhaled shakily. The words of affirmation were already said when he first woke up in the Palimpsest. But he didn't know how much longer he had to wait.
Sayaka exhaled a quiet sigh and pushed off the wall. "In the meantime, we're going to the conservatory."
Riku turned, confused.
Sayaka stretched lazily, as if this was all troublesome to explain. "I'll explain later. Just rest up and flop onto your futon. Meet me at the front doors in four hours. Oh, and toss on the outfit you got from Mr. Kanzawa, will you? I can't afford to go out with someone who looks like a stray dog."
Riku's breath caught. He remembered the long midnight navy tailcoat. The high collar and silver trim, and a crimson inner lining that flashed anytime he changed where he saw it from.
He gave Tetsuya one last look.
Then he nodded.
Without another word, he stepped back and turned away.
Riku walked through the halls from the medical wing to his room. He didn't even bother to look up. If Akio and Mei called him? He wouldn't care. Not after the frustration and anger he felt at himself for forgetting about Tetsuya.
The door slid shut behind him.
By the time he reached his quarters, fatigue—not of the body, but something heavier—had settled across his shoulders. He pushed open the door, and the quiet of the room felt unreal after the constant hum of the medical ward.
The coat hung neatly on the wall.
Riku didn't touch it yet.
He just walked to the futon… and let himself fall face-first onto it.
-------
Four hours had passed since Riku accepted the embrace of rest. He opened his eyes, the ceiling greeting his vision. His body felt oddly light — sore in the forearms from relentless impact, but light. The afterglow of reinforcement still hummed faintly in his limbs, like a memory of fire clinging to cooled embers.
Riku sat up, padded to the bathroom, and splashed cold water across his face at the basin. The water ran down his jaw, catching the faint gleam of the lanternlight. He caught his reflection in the metal — eyes still a little sunken from strain, but steadier.
He reached for his coat.
The midnight-navy fabric was cool to the touch. As he slid into it, the interior lining — that muted shade of crimson — brushed against his wrists like a quiet heartbeat. The high collar rose against his neck, framing his face in that solemn silhouette he still wasn't used to wearing. The compression shirt underneath clung to his frame like a second skin, grounding the flowing weight of the coat.
He slid into his trousers; the cinched midnight navy was a calm sight to his eyes. The black leather boots felt cozy, despite being made for much more stressing matters. He fastened the buckles before standing up fully.
Finally... Ms. Uro is probably waiting for me at the front gate.
He made his way down to the front doors, passing by the rooms of everyone else before seeing Sayaka's frame near the gate.
She wore a soft lavender mantle, cut elegantly, draping over her shoulders like a fragment of mist given form. Pastel pink and pale blue threads wove subtle dreamlike patterns along the sleeves, shifting slightly when she moved, as though resisting being fully perceived. Beneath the mantle, her attire was fitted but fluid, layered in airy fabrics that made no sound — as if her clothes themselves refused to be remembered clearly.
A silver clasp shaped like a closed eyelid held her collar in place. It seemed that this was Sayaka Uro's main attire for professional mantrik affairs.
She glanced at him once and only nodded. "Great. You seem ready. Come on, time waits for no one and I need a nap once this is over."
------
The streets were much quieter compared to when Riku walked with Renjirō to Mr. Kanzawa's Tailoring Hall. He fell into step beside Sayaka as as the cold air outside brushed against them, carrying the faint scent of rain.
"Why are you taking me to this place? Is this my first mission?" Riku asked.
Sayaka looked ahead. "No, this is no mission. I'm taking you with me on Renjirō's orders."
Riku nodded his head.
Dr. Tsukimura wanted me to go with her, huh? No wonder...
Riku adjusted the coat on his shoulders and followed alongside her, the cold air biting faintly at his cheeks.
"Hey," he spoke up, "you still haven't told me what this Conservatory is. Or why we're going there in the first place."
Sayaka didn't stop walking. "You'll see when we get there," she said—then, almost as if reconsidering, she continued, "But since you'll embarrass yourself if you walk in without context, I'll be generous and explain."
She lifted a finger lazily, pointing ahead as if gesturing to some distant idea only she could see.
"There's a Conservatory in every major region of the Palimpsest—Arakasa, Virelya, Zokhara, and Kaigenryō. They were built long ago by the early archivists of the mantrik order. Neutral vaults of knowledge, relic storage, and historical enforcement centers."
"Neutral?" Riku asked.
"As neutral as possible. They side with no concord of the mantrik order and are run by archivists and smiths." Sayaka replied.
"...So that's why we're going?" Riku asked, knowing that there's more to this.
Sayaka finally glanced at him, eyes half-lidded. "You're a thriver of the Mythborne domain. Which means, you're eligible to have an affinity relic."
"Affinity... relic?" Riku echoed.
Sayaka nodded. "An affinity relic is an artifact that resonates with a domain gradation. Mei's a mantrik of the Bloomcraft domain, which is why she could be eligible for primal gauntlets that can aid in her martial prowess. She declined them however... but that's not the point. Another example is someone of the Chronotome domain — the domain of time — carrying a pendant forged from stillborn minutes."
Riku frowned. "Since when can artifacts do that?"
"Because they're not just metal. Or stone. Or cloth." Her smile sharpened — serene, but undeniably grim. "They're forged using the remains of mantriks. Blood, bone fragments, gray matter, crystalized fluids, — whatever the archivists can recover from a corpse. That's what gives the relics their resonance. They're not just tools. They're… inheritances."
Riku swallowed as he went quiet. "T-They're remains?"
Sayaka noticed the slight fear and repulsion in Riku's visage. "Don't worry. The people whose remains are used have willingly offered to do so with the affinity donor registry, so don't fret."
Riku's shoulders dropped a little, feeling the disgust slowly ebb away from him. "And why... should I get one?"
"Even though we know what you can do and how much potential you have with Kapaala, it's better you have an affinity relic so you can augment your powers better." Sayaka said.
They resumed walking, continuing on to the conservatory.
"But those are only affinity relics. The lowest recognized class." She raised a finger, idly twirling it through the cold air as if drawing a sigil only she could see. "Above them exist artifacts that do not augment domains, but they can define the entire beings of the world itself. These are independent from domains."
Riku turned to her, a chill threading through his chest. "Independent…?"
"Eschatonic Relics." she said. "Artifacts born from the end of something sacred. Each one is tied to a law. A concept. Even the Order itself only possesses one…" Her voice lowered, almost reverent, almost terrified.
"The Bloodless Song Mask."