Two months ago.
Beneath a night sky heavy with clouds, in a hall drowned in darkness except for the flicker of an oil lamp whose flame swayed like a restless heart, Jin sat surrounded by five human shadows. Their faces were hidden behind masks that concealed their features, leaving only eyes glinting like blades dipped in darkness.
Jin raised the corner of his lip in a faint, crooked smile, then spoke in a calm voice like the breeze before a storm:
> "Today… we begin a new mission."
One of the masked figures moved, his left hand slipping out from under his cloak, breaking the stillness with a slow gesture before speaking in a hoarse voice:
> "Leader… you want the box, but how are we to obtain it?"
Jin turned slightly, placing his hands behind his back in the posture of a contemplative man hiding relentless calculations, then lowered his head, his words dropping with weight:
> "Harn… the chief of Thunder Village, is the one who holds that box. Now… we will threaten him, and if necessary, we will resort to destruction."
He paused, as if measuring the impact of the next sentence, then added in a low voice dripping with confidence:
> "I have made a deal with the uncle… and he has agreed to my plan."
Jin suddenly raised his voice, his tone cutting through the hall's air like a whip:
> "Show yourself… show yourself, Uncle."
From among the shadows emerged a man in familiar clothes, his features etched with deep lines carved by the years, his eyes sunken beneath the brim of the black hat that had clung to him for decades.
Jin gestured toward him with a slow nod that carried the weight of ownership and control:
> "Here he is… our new partner, the man who regrets handing the box over to Ten's brother."
The uncle bowed slightly, his voice coming out in broken tones, as if his vocal cords strained under the weight of time:
> "Thank you… Jin, for helping me."
Jin did not smile. Instead, he cast a cold gaze like frost-sharpened steel:
> "I am not helping you… what I want is only what hides inside that box."
They all sat in a circle, Jin at the center like the axis around which events revolved. He looked at them one by one before speaking steadily:
> "I have planned everything. You… will surround the village. I… will send the threat letters. That alone will be enough to make Harn sell the box."
The uncle furrowed his brows, his eyes shadowed with a hidden anxiety:
> "And what if Nelson refuses?"
Jin slowly turned, his eyes shifting from face to face until they locked on the uncle, then he spoke in a tone of unwavering certainty:
> "Don't trouble yourself with that… I've arranged things down to the last thread."
At that moment, everyone present felt the hall was no longer just a meeting place but a sealed trap, and that their breaths now
moved in rhythm with a plan far beyond their ability to turn back from.
Two months ago, the silence in the hall pressed against the air until the sound of Jin's calm footsteps approached the uncle's seat, like the inevitable knock of approaching fate.
He stopped in front of him, his eyes narrowing like twin blades ready to be drawn.
Jin (low voice, laced with firmness):
Uncle… I have a task for you. A very precise one.
He reached into his right pocket with calculated slowness, as if pulling a thread from a reservoir of secrets, and drew out a gleaming blade identical to the one Ten possessed. The lamp's light struck its edge, casting sharp shadows that trembled against the walls.
Jin pressed his fingers against the blade, testing the weight of meaning before the weight of metal, then looked at the uncle with the severity of one who sees beyond the veil.
Uncle (calm, tinged with surprise):
You want me to deceive him?
Jin (tone cutting like steel):
I didn't say deceive… I said return this blade to its original place.
The camera closed in on his eyes, the light within them fracturing into two flashes of cold resolve.
Jin (dead serious):
Don't ruin the plan.
The uncle reached out with measured hesitation, then took the blade in his grip, while Jin straightened with a solid step, as if announcing the start of a countdown.
Jin (turning without looking back):
We begin when I give the signal.
Masked figures (in unison, echoing like a cave's reply):
Yes, sir.
The scene shifted to Jin moving deep into a forest swallowed by the shadows of a cold morning, sunlight piercing through interwoven branches like golden swords.
Among the dark trunks, a man sat on a rock—hair white as snow, eyes gray, reflecting the pale daylight. He wore black clothing, a tilted mask on his head as if pushed aside to reveal only half the truth.
Man (smirking like one who knows more than he speaks):
So… you've finally come.
Jin (even tone):
Skip the talk… I have a job for you.
Man (tilting his head with the confidence of a cat sizing up prey):
And what would that be? You've piqued my curiosity.
The lighting shifted suddenly. Night dissolved into the whiteness of morning, and the scene transitioned to Nelson's office. Sunlight streamed through a tall window, glinting off his sharp features as he stared at the horizon.
Nelson (smiling wryly at the sky):
So… you want work.
Man (quiet, with a sly undertone):
If you take me as your driver… I'll tell you a secret only you will value.
Nelson (turning his gaze on him, voice dripping with scorn):
And what if you're lying?
Man (with unshakable confidence):
I don't lie… I swear it. It's a secret that will make you see clearly who's your enemy… and who's your ally.
Nelson's expression shifted, the mockery replaced by a sudden wall of seriousness.
Nelson:
Speak.
Man (slow breath, words dropped like stones into still water):
In the Fire Village… its chief is named Harn. Just one day ago, I was there and heard a commotion about a secret box that belongs to that village.
Nelson turned sharply, as if struck by a dangerous thought.
Nelson:
Are you sure about this?
Man:
I saw it with my own eyes. If it weren't so important… they wouldn't guard it with a blade that's the only way to open it.
Nelson (narrowing his eyes):
You mean… it can only be opened with that blad
e.
Man (a creeping, wicked smile):
Exactly… but keep this to yourself.
The atmosphere in the office was tense.
Nelson sat in his wide chair, his features hardened with anger, the veins in his neck pulsing with every word.
Nelson (sharp voice cutting through the silence):
Harn… I put my trust in you, and you betrayed it.
The other man stepped forward slowly, his expression betraying no emotion.
Man (with striking calm):
Next time… learn who to choose.
Nelson didn't reply, but leaned forward slightly, his eyes lighting with interest at the man's next question.
Man:
And about the job?
Nelson (responding quickly, as if the decision had been made long ago):
Fine… fine, you're in.
The camera rose to the sky, where scorching sunlight burned against drifting clouds, then descended slowly toward the sprawling Fire Village nestled among the red mountains.
In a side square heavy with the smell of coal and roasted meat, the uncle sat with Ten's brother at a wooden grill table. Sparks leapt from the coals, the scent of spices thick in the air.
Brother (curious, eyes fixed on the uncle):
What brings you here, uncle?
The uncle lifted his gaze, eyes narrowing as if weighing each word.
Uncle (firm, without hesitation):
Give me that blade.
Brother (surprised, brows rising):
Didn't you say I should give it to Ten?
The uncle leaned forward, his voice suddenly rising like a sword drawn from its sheath.
Uncle:
Just give it to me!
The brother hesitated for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the blade, wrapped in a piece of cloth, handing it over.
Uncle (fixing his gaze on the blade as though seeing beyond the metal itself):
Now… your goal is to give him this one.
Brother (in disbelief):
So… this is a fake?
The uncle raised his head, his features freezing into stern authority.
Uncle:
Don't tell him… just give it to him. Don't speak the truth. Understand?
Brother (nervously wiping sweat from his brow):
Fine… uncle.
The uncle placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, then released it, speaking in a decisive tone:
Uncle:
Then… I'm counting on you.
He rose quickly, striding away like the shadow of a man stepped out from the pages of legend. The wind lifted the edge of his black cloak,
and his eyes gleamed as if hiding secrets from another age.
The companions gathered in their hideout, seated in a circle around a swaying oil lamp, their faces flickering under fractured tongues of light.
Jin sat at the center, steady and in control. Beside him sat "the man" and "the uncle," both watching in silence, their expressions unreadable, as if testing the quiet itself.
Jin (calm smile, measured tone):
Well done… well done… you haven't disappointed me.
One member stepped forward, his eyes burning with curiosity:
And what's our next move?
Jin (eyes sharp as drawn blades):
Now… we move to the threat phase.
He let his gaze sweep over everyone.
When night falls… we strike.
He turned to "the man," his eyes dragging orders from silence itself:
You… stay with Nelson. Don't return until we meet for the final mission.
---
Scene change – night descends
Darkness draped the city, cold wind rushing through the alleys like whispers of blood and steel.
Footsteps advanced softly—five shadows surrounding the grand palace where Harn resided. At the front walked Jin, holding an ancient clay tablet carved with twisted letters, a message sealed with unmistakable menace.
The shadowed companions released shin energy from their bodies, spirals of light coiling around them like serpents of fire and shadow. The air thickened, the heat drained away, and it felt as if the earth itself held its breath.
In the garden, Harn stood frozen, his eyes widening with each step they took toward him, beads of sweat trailing slowly down his temples.
Jin (deep, resonant voice cutting through the stillness):
Stop your madness… or watch destruction swallow you before your own eyes.
Harn (gritting his teeth, the grind almost audible):
Who are you?!
Jin (cold smile, blade-sharp):
We… are the ghosts.
Harn (shouting, fear creeping into his voice):
And what do you want?!
Jin (stepping forward, eyes glowing like embers in the night):
We want what is ours… and you stole it.
Then, heavier:
Don't play dumb… I know the box is in your possession.
Harn (arrogance laced with a short laugh):
I will not hand it over… go back where you came from.
Jin lifted his left hand to the sky, closing his eyes for a moment as if drawing unseen power from the depths. Suddenly, he opened them and pointed upward.
In a voice as quiet as thunder's whisper:
Flames of the Sky…
The colors shifted. A deep violet halo engulfed the heavens, as though the night had ignited with alien light. The air grew heavier than iron, a strange pressure crashing down, making tree leaves tremble and the ground crack beneath their feet.
Harn fell to his knees, gasping for air, veins straining under the crushing weight.
Harn (voice trembling with fear):
Fine… fine… wait… I'll go inside… and think…
As he stepped back toward the palace, Jin's shadow stretched over him like a verdict beyond appeal, while the vio
let sky loomed above, watching like the eye of an angry god.
Harn sat behind his heavy wooden desk, his head bowed as if its weight had suddenly multiplied, his fingers clutching his temples in a desperate attempt to contain the spinning storm boiling inside his skull.
His face was pale, cold sweat pooling on his forehead, and his shallow breaths sent faint shivers through the scattered papers before him.
Suddenly… a sharp glass explosion tore through the stillness of the room.
His window shattered, shards scattering in the air before settling on the floor like dead glass stars.
The wind slipped through the opening, carrying a small crimson piece of paper, twisting upon itself as though afraid to reveal its message too soon.
Harn's trembling hand reached out and seized the red letter, a choking feeling swelling inside his chest—a suffocating mix of anxiety and dread—until the voice in his head repeated without pause:
What do they want from me?
He began to open the letter slowly, as if merely touching the words would turn them into ash.
The ink bled across the paper:
> "Deliver the box to Nelson… And if you hesitate, we will show you hell.
Perhaps we will turn this village into dust."
The shock didn't linger long—another letter slipped out from among the papers, harsher than the first, as if written by a hand that knew exactly where to strike:
> "Do not tremble… And do not try to hide anything.
Deliver the box. And if you defy me, remember… I have erased an entire clan from existence.
Destroying your village will be far easier."
At that moment, a heavy tear slid from Harn's eye and fell onto the paper, leaving a wet blot that slowly spread… as if erasing the last bit of hope.
Elsewhere, Jin turned to his companions around the swaying lamp, his features cold as stone:
— "Let's go… We've awakened his fear, and we'll strike again tomorrow."
They all answered in unison:
— "Understood."
The days dragged on, and each day the terror was reenacted before Harn until his heart beat in rhythm with the cadence of their threats.
After a month, Harn walked out into the square, raising his hands to the sky as if surrendering to an inevitable fate, his voice hoarse from exhaustion:
— "Alright… alright… Nelson asked me to buy the box… Please… stop."
One of the members stepped forward, his eyes narrowed like blades:
— "And what if you're lying?"
Jin intervened, his tone a calm, deadly whisper:
— "He's not lying… But if he is, we'll turn this village into a garbage pit."
Days later… dawn broke over a barren desert.
Jin stood on the edge of a lone rock at the border between the Villages of Fire and Thunder.
The wind tore at his robe, lifting its edges and letting them fall again.
Behind him, "the Old Man" sat on a battered wooden chair.
Jin spoke in a low voice, as if addressing the wind:
— "Old man… how are your legs?"
The old man replied with a smile tinged with bitterness:
— "They're fine… but Shin is what made them useless."
At that moment, the Person arrived, panting from his escape from the Scorpion Gang's grasp.
— "So, Jin… what's your next move?"
Jin pulled out a box identical to the original, its dark wooden surface carved with careful detail:
— "Take this fake box… and give me the real one."
The man smiled slyly as he handed over a bag heavier than it looked:
— "Alright… alright… Nelson is going to lose his mind."
A faint smile crossed Jin's face, and his voice carried a glint of mockery:
— "That's exactly what I want."
He then gestured calmly:
— "Act natural."
The man left on a cart, growing smaller against the golden horizon of the desert.
Jin turned to the old man, his eyes gleaming as if on the verge of unveiling an ancient secret:
— "Give me the cipher."
He took the cipher and placed it on the deep-marked symbol of the box.
Suddenly, crimson lines blazed to life, like blood-red veins running through the wood's body, until the box awoke with a mysterious hum.
Under their tense breaths, the lid slowly opened… inside lay an old book, its cover as dark as a stormy sky, its title deeply carved into the center:
"The Truth of the World… and the Source of Shin."
Jin lifted the book with steady hands, his eyes reflecting the pages as though he were diving into an ocean without end.
Two hours passed as he read, blinking only rarely, the wind around him carrying grains of sand like whispers of time.
Finally, he raised his head to the sky, his eyes heavy with an unexpected shock:
— "So… this is why you were hiding the box."
The old man's voice was hoarse:
— "If it weren't for you… Nelson would have taken it."
Jin exhaled slowly, then murmured as if speaking to himself:
—
"I never thought the truth… would be this immense… and this devastating."
End of Chapter