The morning in Veridianum dawned differently that day.
Normally, the sky over the eastern continent was a disciplined mosaic of thin clouds, like brushstrokes left by ancient masters to train their disciples' eyes to perceive patterns. But on that dawn, a living mist crept through the hills. It wasn't just water vapor, nor simple dust. It had a rhythm, as if every particle was linked to a deeper beat.
In the village of Kaoru, where one of the oldest Elemental Dojos stood, the apprentices woke earlier than usual. Something in their instincts called them outside. The Dojo of the Liquid Element, built around a translucent lake, seemed to vibrate in unison with the descending mist. The local master, Shoumei, was adjusting the blue sash around his waist when he noticed: the lake was breathing.
— This is not the tide… — he murmured, kneeling at the water's edge.
The waves did not obey the wind. They were pulsars, as if the lake had developed a heart.
Suddenly, a form emerged from the surface. It was not a fish, nor a man, nor a common spirit. It was a Nodule of the Triad, a biological mass that rose like a sprout, with translucent membranes and filaments that spread gently. It had no face, but exuded calm.
The disciples instinctively recoiled, some assuming combat stances. Shoumei, however, raised his hand.
— Calm yourselves. This is not an enemy. It is… a visitor.
The being pulsed at intervals, as if trying to synchronize with the dojo's rhythm. Slowly, the filaments extended to the wooden and stone walls, and where they touched, a transformation occurred: the dojo began to "breathe" along with the Nodule. The wooden walls creaked like ribs, the floor trembled like a diaphragm. The once static space was now alive.
One of the youths, Ren, exclaimed in fear:
— Master! It's… eating the dojo?
Shoumei smiled serenely.
— No, Ren. It is offering us something. See with the eyes of a student, not a warrior.
Ren hesitated, but saw there was no destruction. The wood did not crumble but became more elastic. The stones did not crack but resonated like bones supporting muscles. Little by little, the dojo was transforming into a symbiotic organism.
The Nodule emitted a soft sound, almost a song. They were not known words, but a living syntax that seemed to address both the lake and those present. Master Shoumei, concentrating, let the BAF in his body resonate. Gradually, he managed to understand:
— It is asking us… if we accept being part of its breath.
The disciples looked at each other. To accept meant allowing their vital energy, the BAF, to be synchronized with something completely unknown. But the Master did not hesitate. He advanced to the center of the dojo and sat in a meditation posture.
— Let me be the first.
Silence fell. The Nodule's song intensified. An invisible wave coursed through Shoumei's body, and everyone saw his skin glow faintly, as if an internal lake reflected the light. The master sighed deeply—but the sound did not come from his lungs alone. The entire dojo sighed with him.
— It's… extraordinary. — he said, opening his eyes with discreet tears. — It teaches us the art of breathing in communion.
One by one, the disciples began to try. Ren was among the first, despite his initial fear. He felt the strangeness of opening his vital flow to a being he did not understand, but soon perceived something unprecedented: each of his inhalations was prolonged by the lake, each exhalation returned by the living walls. He no longer breathed alone.
Because of this, the day's training took on another form. The fluid movements of the Liquid Style, which once depended solely on individual discipline, now echoed with greater harmony. Every strike and every dodge was supported by the dojo as if invisible hands corrected their postures.
— We no longer fight against gravity — said Shoumei. — Now the space fights alongside us.
At night, after hours of adaptation, the entire dojo seemed like an extension of their bodies. The lanterns flickered like pupils, and the floor pulsed like a heart. The apprentices, exhausted but amazed, lay down at the edges of the lake.
Ren looked at the breathing ceiling and murmured:
— So this is what it means… to live in symbiosis.
Master Shoumei nodded.
— This is only the beginning. Today, we learned that the knowledge we sought within the elements can also come from outside, from worlds we never imagined.
The Nodule, satisfied, retracted some of its filaments, remaining connected but in a state of rest. There was no domination, only coexistence.
And so, in the Dojo of the Liquid Element, the first Breathing Dojo was born. A place where the Triad and Veridianum were no longer visitors and hosts, but a single pulsating organism, teaching that true martial arts are not just about fighting, but about learning to live in the same rhythm.
That night, as everyone slept, the living mist rose again, carrying echoes of the dojo across the continent. Other masters, in distant villages, dreamed of breathing walls and lakes that had hearts. The call had begun to spread.