"The Book That Breathes"
The throne room of Zeyrus had never been silent like this.
Not during war.
Not during famine.
Not even when the gods themselves threatened descent.
The war table—obsidian and blood-etched—stood empty of hands but full of echoes. The commanders had already departed, summoned by Vein-12's flare. Their boots had thundered like war drums moments ago. Now, only silence remained.
Only the King.
Kael stood alone. One gloved hand rested on the table's edge, the other gripped the ancient book—its cover black as sorrow, pulsing faintly like a wounded heart. Outside, sirens echoed distantly. Red sigils danced in the air above the city's watchtowers. Somewhere far below, soldiers prepared to die.
But here—at the highest spire—only truth mattered.
Kael opened the tome.
And it whispered.
Not in words, but in weight. In presence. In shifting ink that slithered across the pages like living shadow. This was no ordinary text. This was a wound carved into paper.
The old warnings were still there:
"Dark EB is not power. It is a will."
"It drinks your sorrow."
"It feeds not your strength—but your weakness."
But deeper now—beneath those warnings—new lines emerged.
Words not previously visible.
Pages he had already turned now glowed with golden ink.
As if the book had decided: you are ready now.
> "Shin Kenai," it said.
> "It is not an object.
Not an element.
Not a man."
> "It is a concept that breaks reality's spine.
A method of creation, not destruction.
A door, not a sword."
Kael read on, heart slowing with every phrase.
> "There will be one—only one—
in all the known universe—
who will awaken this power."
> "He will not raise armies.
He will not burn cities.
He will speak… and your mind will change."
Kael's hand trembled slightly. His fingers brushed the margin where the ink bled down like tears.
> "Shin Kenai is the element of illusion.
Not illusions of the eye.
But of belief.
Of memory.
Of dreams."
> "He will enter you… not through blade or fist…
but through sleep."
"He will twist your mind until you call him a friend."
"And when you wake—he will already own you."
Kael closed the book gently, but the room did not feel still.
It felt watched. As though something had read him in return.
> "An enemy that never draws a weapon…" he whispered.
"Just rearranges your soul."
---
Far to the east…
Another throne. Another king.
But here, no silence.
Only cold strategy, sharpened by fear.
In the city of Miranon, capital of Verin, King Varna sat in a steel-forged circle, surrounded by commanders, engineers, and scientists.
His face was scarred, but not by battle—by disappointment.
He had led three invasions into Zeyrus Veins.
All three had failed.
> "Zeyrus has fifty Veins," he growled. "We have nine."
"We send warriors. We lose them. We send elites. They vanish."
"At this rate, they will bleed us dry without lifting a sword."
The room buzzed. No one had answers—until a voice emerged from the lab-side of the council chamber.
A young woman in a white coat.
Hair tied. Eyes sleepless.
> "What if," she said, "we make a Vein of our own?"
Heads turned. Varna's brow raised.
> "Artificial?" he asked.
"That's fantasy. You think you can mimic the pulse of an EB?"
The scientist stepped forward. Her tablet displayed simulations: 3D diagrams, equations, spiritual resonance graphs.
> "Not perfect. But close. Enough for usage. Enough for ADM Ring charging."
"We can craft a pseudo-Vein. With replicated energy cycles. It would produce eighty-percent output of a real EB stream."
Varna stood slowly.
> "If this works… we will no longer need Zeyrus."
"We will outgrow them."
Another general stepped forward. Older. His cloak bore the symbol of the Darkians.
> "My King, our engineering corps has begun testing ADM Blades—new models that absorb ambient Dark EB and convert it into blade coatings."
> "We also have prototypes of Phase-Step Boots. Ultra-light, enhanced movement tech."
"Assassination units with these tools could neutralize key targets before detection."
Varna looked between the two.
His kingdom had always been weaker in numbers.
Weaker in bloodline power.
Their people had been born with minor elements—Stone, Steam, Dust.
Not Fire. Not Lightning. Not Wind.
> "Then we stop fighting fair," Varna said, voice like steel grating on truth.
"We do what Zeyrus never dared."
"We build our future from blueprints, not bloodlines."
He turned to the room.
> "Greenlight both projects. Begin Vein Replication immediately. Accelerate all assassin tech for the Darkian Elite."
> "If Zeyrus clings to history—then let history drown them."
---
Back in Zeyrus…
King Kael stepped onto the balcony of the spire.
The sky had dimmed.
The crimson Vein-alert sigils still glowed like blood stars on the horizon.
But his mind was elsewhere.
> "A power that can walk into your mind…"
"Change your memories…"
"Make you love your enemies…"
He tightened his grip on the book.
The ink no longer glowed.
The whispers had faded.
But he could still feel the idea burning inside him.
> Shin Kenai.
A concept. A curse. A prophecy.
Somewhere—out there—
one person would awaken it.
And when they did…
> "No army will matter," Kael said quietly.
"Because they will already own the war before it starts."
But even in silence a question reminds in the kings mind: where are AIKA YUJI AND RYEN??
---
"Phantom Between the Blades"
The cave trembled—but it wasn't fear.
It was anticipation.
Ryen Sylvan stood still, frozen not by weakness but by unseen forces—roots, vines, subtle magics woven into the stone itself.
Beside him, Aika Miyawaki knelt, her hands half-lifted, mouth slightly open. Her blade was drawn, but motionless. Her eyes burned—but her limbs refused.
The walls flickered in torchlight. Their shadows did not move the way they should.
And in front of them…
She stood.
White coat. Blue hair. Eyes like still oceans that had drowned entire truths.
> "Mina," Aika whispered.
The name tasted wrong. Not because it was false—but because it was true.
Ryen's eyes locked on hers, voice trembling—not from fear, but from fury restrained.
> "You… knew about the Flame World," he said.
"You knew we were here. You let us fall into this hell. Into this hunt."
"You… watched us suffer. Watched her die. And said nothing."
His voice cracked at the edges. Her name became a wound.
Mina didn't blink. Her expression remained disturbingly serene.
> "There are many things you don't understand yet, Ryen Sylvan."
"Despite your strength, you're still a child in a world that plays with gods."
Her voice held no malice. No warmth either. It was… clinical. A truth spoken like a scalpel.
> "And Aika," she continued, eyes briefly turning. "Still full of wonder. Still believing everything can be saved."
"You'll learn soon… not everything that bleeds can be healed."
Aika struggled. Her hand twitched. Her Ice ADM Ring flared with flickering sparks, resisting the root-bind.
> "I don't care what world you came from," she spat. "You stood beside us once. You saw us fight. You saw us break."
> "And now… you become the one who breaks others?"
Mina tilted her head.
> "I am not your villain. Nor your savior."
"I am the hand behind the veil. The observer who must act when data fails."
"I study outcomes. And you two… are very interesting variables."
Suddenly—
Phantom wind.
The air cracked as Ryen vanished.
—PHANTOM STEPS.
The moment Mina's focus broke, he blitzed forward, snatching Aika by the waist.
Her bonds shattered mid-stride as Ryen twisted, phased, and disappeared in a blur of motion.
Mina's eyes widened—not with shock, but with calculation.
> "Ah… that ability again."
She turned, stepped, and vanished too.
---
They ran through corridors carved in ancient stone.
The labyrinth of the cave twisted, narrowed, threatened to collapse behind them—but Ryen moved like a shadow with purpose. Every time the path veered, his foot found the right rock. Every pulse of his Ring pushed reality aside.
But she was faster than she looked.
Mina was following.
Not running. Gliding.
Her white coat never caught wind. Her form never bent. And yet—she was gaining.
Boom!
A chunk of stone burst near Ryen's head. Mina had thrown a needle—silver, thin, tipped with Dark EB.
Another!
He ducked. The air hissed with killing intent.
> "Aika!" he shouted, breath sharp. "Hold on! Almost there!"
She didn't answer. She was busy channeling her Ice again—pulling in the chill to freeze the rear tunnel behind them.
It slowed Mina only a moment.
Then—
A pulse.
A new presence entered.
He didn't arrive.
He was simply—there.
Standing between the hunters and the hunted.
A tall man. Barefoot. Robe of gray thread, woven with silence.
No ADM Ring.
No aura.
Only a presence that silenced wind.
> "You're chasing children," he said, voice like water dripping on steel.
"That's not very scientific of you."
Mina halted.
For the first time… she hesitated.
> "You," she said.
"You shouldn't be here. How—?"
The man smiled.
His hands remained by his sides. His eyes were closed. And yet… his foot moved.
One step.
Mina's eyes widened. She raised her hand, channeling a Dark Shockwave through her veins.
But before the energy left her palm—
Tap.
Two fingers touched her shoulder.
And the energy stopped.
> "What—!?"
He spun. Not fast. Not showy. Just precise.
A single strike to her ribs.
One to her neck.
Then two fingers pressed her elbow.
> "The human body," he whispered, "has thirty-two pressure points. Attack the right sequence… and even a god forgets how to breathe."
Mina gasped. Her knees buckled.
He caught her gently.
Lowered her to the stone.
As if she were fragile glass, not a danger.
> "Sleep now, scientist. You've seen enough."
Ryen and Aika had stopped by now—staring from the far tunnel.
They recognized the man.
Everyone did.
Eylzion.
The man without a title. The martial artist with no nation. The one who fought without element, without magic—only will and skill.
Eylzion turned.
His eyes opened slowly—revealing a calm more terrifying than rage.
> "Go," he said softly. "The exit gate will open soon."
> "You've survived. Now live."
Aika whispered, "Why… help us?"
He didn't answer.
Just turned, crouched beside Mina's unconscious form, and pulled a small black notebook from his robe.
He wrote a single line.
His lips moved as the words bled onto the page.
> "Play with others' fantasies...
Just like I saved them like a hero."
And then… he was gone.
No sound. No aura. Not even footsteps.
---
Meanwhile—
Aika and Ryen ran.
No more words. No more attacks.
Only time.
> "One more day," Ryen said between breaths. "One more… then this madness ends."
But both of them knew…
The true madness was just beginning.
---
"The Fog of Escape, the Teeth of Pursuit"
A breath.
A blur.
A heartbeat that stretched across eternity.
Yuji Kazehaya stood at the edge of the clearing, his Wind and Dark ADM Rings pulsing faintly on each wrist like twin heartbeats out of sync. His stance was tense, calm only in posture—but inside?
A storm churned.
Before him, Silas Reign smiled like a devil who had already read the ending of the book—and knew the last chapter was his.
> "You've grown," Silas said, his voice smooth as poisoned honey.
"But growth means nothing when your roots were always destined to rot."
Beside him stood a boy—no aura, no name, no allegiance… but his eyes, violet and unreadable, were Ziyan: the Shadowbound recruit whose silence was more dangerous than roars.
Yuji's eyes narrowed.
He didn't answer with words.
He answered with movement.
> "I'm not here to fight monsters still playing dress-up."
"I'm here to live. That's my revenge."
The air cracked.
Wind surged beneath Yuji's feet like an unseen current. His Bloomies bloomed wide—five small spirits of green light rising from the jungle floor with rapid spiral energy.
> "Mist Protocol," Yuji whispered. "Disperse pattern—Hollow Shield."
And the jungle answered.
BOOOOOOM.
A green fog burst outward like a tidal wave of chlorophyll and chaos. It covered the clearing in seconds—thick, glowing mist coiling like ancient breath across the roots, up the trunks, over the vines.
It smelled of earth and ozone and rebellion.
Silas stepped forward, brushing the mist aside with a flick of his dark cloak.
> "You run?"
"You disappoint me."
But his foot halted. Something moved in the mist.
Not Yuji.
Something… else.
A Bloomie's voice echoed like a whisper bouncing between leaves:
> "He's not running."
"He's evolving."
Silas's smile faltered.
Then Yuji's silhouette appeared within the fog—only for it to vanish the next second.
And then another. And another.
Phantoms of green light flickered like ghosts who refused to die.
> "What is this—" Ziyan stepped forward, but paused.
"Illusions? No… these are—"
> "Decoys," Silas muttered.
"He's covering his trail."
A pulse of Dark surged from Silas's palm—erupting into a blast of raw shadow. It cleared a thirty-foot radius of the fog in one shot…
But Yuji was gone.
---
Elsewhere, deep within the living maze of the jungle, Yuji sprinted—every step fueled by Wind. His Dark element was muted, resting for now, while his Bloomies kept watch from the trees.
> "Route 12-A clear."
"Gate path stable. You're on track, Yuji!"
"One day left. Then… we're free."
Yuji clenched his jaw.
> "No," he whispered.
"Not free. Just next."
His muscles burned. But he didn't stop.
He had no right to.
Ara's voice still echoed within him… the memory of her sacrifice, her courage, the way she died protecting someone who didn't even remember their past.
He wouldn't let that be wasted.
Not today.
---
Back in the clearing, Silas stood unmoving.
The fog had cleared now, slowly fading into the canopy.
Ziyan blinked once.
> "He outplayed us."
Silas's smile returned—tighter now. More teeth than charm.
> "He didn't outplay me."
"He just learned that survival is a better teacher than victory."
He looked up at the jungle's ceiling of leaves, his voice cold as a forgotten god.
> "But no one runs forever."
His shadows withdrew into his sleeves like snakes retreating into den.
---
And then—far away, atop a cliff shaped like a serpent's skull—
He stood.
Eylzion.
Still barefoot. Robe flapping in the dry breeze. His back to the sun.
In one hand: his notebook.
In the other: nothing. He needed nothing.
He wrote slowly.
Every stroke a dagger dipped in philosophy.
> "Play with others' fantasies," he whispered.
"Just like I saved them… like a hero."
Then he turned the page.
And wrote the next line.
> "Truth is useless in a world that worships comfort."
"So give them masks… and let the real monsters smile."
The wind paused, almost out of respect.
Eylzion looked down at the path Yuji had taken. Then at the place Mina now lay paralyzed. Then beyond—toward Vein-12, where war had already begun to howl.
> "Let the world keep playing their war games," he said to no one.
"I'll be the dream that breaks them all."
And with a single step, he vanished into the mist.
---
END OF CHAPTER 23