The air inside the pocket realm felt wrong.
Not just heavy—intentional, as if the world itself watched them.
Kirin's heartbeat thudded in his ears while the shadowed figure approached with slow, deliberate steps. Each footfall warped the air, bending the ground slightly before it settled again. Reina instinctively moved in front of Kirin, blades raised, breath steady.
The figure stopped.
"You brought a companion," it murmured, voice layered—one voice speaking, but many echoing behind it, like overlapping memories. "Unexpected. But irrelevant."
Reina tightened her grip. "If you touch him—"
"I would destroy this entire realm before harming him," the Entity said calmly. "Kirin is… necessary."
Kirin forced his breath steady.
"Why do you keep calling me that? 'Necessary'? For what?"
The Entity tilted its head—not hostile, but curious.
"Because you are incomplete."
The words hit harder than a physical strike.
Reina's eyes widened. "Incomplete? What does that mean—"
"It means," the Entity continued, "the power inside you has not yet remembered what it truly is."
Kirin stepped forward. "Then tell me. Because right now, I only know it's killing me."
A pause.
Then, the Entity raised a hand.
Not threateningly—almost gently.
The ember-black aura flickered around Kirin's body in response, swirling upward as if reaching for the Entity's.
Reina instinctively pulled Kirin back—
—but Kirin didn't move.
His body had stopped responding.
The ground beneath him pulsed.
The sky above twisted.
Reina's voice echoed faintly.
"Kirin—!"
Then everything went silent.
Darkness swallowed Kirin's vision before slowly giving way to a dim, fractured landscape. Floating shards of glass hovered around him—each containing a moment, a flicker, a memory.
None were his.
He saw:
worlds collapsing, splitting like cracked mirrors
hunters fighting creatures no human should face
a city made of light, then consumed by shadow
a lone figure standing surrounded by embers—
the same ember-black glow as his own
A voice whispered behind him.
"You survived the original resonance. That alone should have been impossible."
Kirin turned.
The Entity stood only a step away, though its form was clearer here—more human, less shadow.
It continued, "Your world is not the first we tried to stabilize. It is simply the last one left."
Kirin frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Rifts are not accidents," the Entity said. "They are fractures formed when realities collide. My purpose was to find a vessel capable of bridging them. Someone whose soul could withstand what others could not."
The floating glass shifted, replaying an image:
A much younger Kirin—barely five years old—curled on the ground as the sky tore open and the resonance washed over him.
Kirin's breath hitched.
"The First Rift…" he whispered. "You were there."
"Yes."
"And you lived when hundreds died. You became the only compatible vessel in this reality."
Kirin forced himself to stare into the memory.
A younger him, shaking, terrified…
and the Entity standing above him, placing a hand over his heart.
Kirin's voice cracked. "So you cursed me."
"I empowered you."
"It didn't feel like empowerment."
"For a seed to grow," the Entity said, "the soil must break."
Kirin clenched his fists. "Don't pretend you did this to save me."
The Entity paused.
"Very well," it said softly. "Then I will not pretend."
The memories dissolved.
They returned to the pocket realm—Reina's voice calling faintly from a distance, though she couldn't reach him.
The Entity stood in front of Kirin, closer now than ever.
"There is only one being in any world capable of stabilizing a collapsing reality," it said. "Not a warrior. Not a god."
Its ember-black eyes glowed.
"A Rebinder."
Kirin swallowed. "What does that mean?"
"You carry fragments of many realities," the Entity said. "When you awaken fully, you will be able to connect—or collapse—entire worlds."
Kirin's stomach tightened. "I don't want that."
The Entity leaned closer.
"That is irrelevant. The power will awaken whether you accept it or not."
"Why me?"
"Because," the Entity whispered, "I am your predecessor."
Kirin's breath stopped.
Reina's voice finally cut through the haze.
"KIRIN!"
His vision snapped back.
He staggered, nearly falling, Reina catching him by the shoulders.
"Kirin! Hey— look at me! What happened? What did it do to you?"
Kirin tried to answer—
But the Entity stepped forward again.
Reina pointed her blade, ready to strike.
"Stay back."
The Entity didn't flinch.
"I have revealed enough. The rest… you will discover in time."
It turned away.
The space around it fractured like breaking glass.
"Kirin Vale," it said without looking back,
"when your Ember finally awakens… the world will fear you. Or follow you."
The ground cracked.
The realm collapsed.
And Kirin and Reina were pulled back through the Rift—
back into the night-drenched forest—
gasping for air as the Rift sealed shut behind them.
Leaving only silence.
Reina steadied him, eyes wide with worry.
"Kirin… what did it tell you?"
Kirin stared at the empty space where the Rift vanished.
He felt it again—
the ember-black energy in his chest, pulsing like a second heart.
"It told me," he whispered,
"that this was never just a Mutation."
He clenched his fist.
"It's a destiny."