The city slept—or at least pretended to. Neon reflections danced across puddles in narrow alleys. The streetlamps flickered in irregular patterns, reacting to currents of mana that no ordinary sensor could detect. To anyone else, it was a quiet night. To Takumi Hanabira, it was alive.
The NullLight Rift hadn't just collapsed—it had left an imprint. Subtle, almost imperceptible tremors of energy snaked through the urban sprawl. A building's corner shimmered for a heartbeat before settling. A car alarm went off with no human touch. Even the wind carried a faint tang of red-black electricity, an echo of molten shadow.
Takumi walked down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He moved deliberately, testing the resonance inside him. Every step, every shift of weight carried a precision that was no longer fully his own. Shigure's presence whispered in his mind, guiding subtle adjustments, refining reflexes, sharpening perception.
"You're… jittery," Shigure murmured, amusement curling through the voice. "Relax. You're not going to fall apart again. Not tonight."
Takumi clenched his jaw. "I don't feel… normal."
"Normal is boring. You're something else now," Shigure replied, tone sliding between smug and almost affectionate. "You survived a god's birth scream, kid. That's not a badge; that's a warning."
A building's shadow stretched unnaturally, flickering like a living thing. Takumi's gaze snapped toward it. Reflexively, he raised a hand. The shadow rippled and recoiled. A small pulse of mana emanated from his palm. His heart thudded—control, precision, feedback. Shigure chuckled softly.
"See? Already listening to me. Your muscles, your neurons, even your instincts—they're all tuned differently. You just need to play the instrument right."
Takumi's breathing remained even, but inside, a storm raged. Every movement he made resonated with Shigure's latent energy. It was intoxicating—and terrifying. He could feel the potential to annihilate, reshape, or manipulate, and yet the restraint was entirely his. Or, he hoped, entirely his.
He moved past an alley, noticing something subtle: a faint shimmer along a dumpster's edge. A small anomaly, residual NullLight flux. One moment, it pulsed; the next, it collapsed. Takumi bent down, examining it with a touch guided by instincts he barely recognized as his own. The residue whispered secrets of the Rift, like a fragment of Shigure's world bleeding into his own.
"You see it," Shigure remarked. "You feel it. Not many humans would notice—or survive noticing."
Takumi's fingers brushed the shimmer. His vision momentarily blurred. Red-black specks danced at the edge of his sight, fragments of a world that should not exist here. "It's… reacting to me?"
"Of course. You're a vessel. The Rift listens to you, now. It's not fully conscious yet, but it's aware."
The revelation struck him. The NullLight Rift hadn't been a singular event; it was ongoing. Shigure's hibernation, his own survival—they'd left traces. Echoes. Residual anomalies. The city was subtly bending, and Takumi was the axis.
He straightened and exhaled slowly, trying to force himself to think in human terms. People didn't know. The authorities didn't know. The Hunters wouldn't arrive for weeks—if at all. But those who could sense mana? Anyone sensitive enough to the pulse of dimensional rifts? They'd notice the residue. Someone, somewhere, would come looking.
"Do you plan to tell anyone?" Shigure's voice slid through his thoughts, calm and unrelenting.
"Tell… who?" Takumi asked. "No one would believe me. Even if they did…" He hesitated, shivering despite the heat of his own aura. "I can't let them see this. I can't let anyone see me like this."
"Good," Shigure said. "Then we keep it quiet. But don't mistake silence for safety. The Rift doesn't care about rules, and neither do I—fully. You're learning fast, though. I'll give you that."
Takumi forced himself to move, heading toward the outskirts of the sector. He needed a place to train, to test, to push the limits of his new duality. A small rooftop offered him a panoramic view of the city. Below, streets were empty, a rare moment of calm. Above, the stars pierced the night, distant and indifferent.
He extended his hand again. A shard of NullLight residue hovered, obedient, responding to his subtle mana shifts. It formed into a simple cube at first, then a sphere, rotating in midair. Each movement, each rotation, was guided by Shigure's suggestions, his whispers, his influence.
"Not bad," Shigure remarked. "Precision. Control. But don't get cocky. The moment you do, you'll snap. And trust me, snapping here isn't like a normal fight."
Takumi's brow furrowed. "I know."
He let the sphere dissolve, scattering the energy into harmless sparks. And yet, even harmless, it hummed with ancient power. His pulse was racing, but his hands were steady. The dual consciousness inside him was no longer a raw, panic-driven presence. It was strategy, coordination, and instinct.
Hours passed. He moved, tested, learned. Reflexively dodging imaginary strikes, moving like he could anticipate each blow, each reaction. His body flowed with Shigure's insights, and yet, the lessons weren't just combat—they were philosophy. A paradoxical merging of instinct and intellect, predator and human.
A sudden movement in the street below snapped him from the rooftop. Two silhouettes, cloaked and carrying devices that hummed with mana detection, were moving cautiously. They didn't notice him. Not yet.
"Hunters," Shigure said softly, amusement and warning mixed. "First real ones sniffing the scent of the Rift residue. You feel that? That tiny pulse of fear in their steps? That's your cue."
Takumi's hands twitched. Every fiber of him screamed to leap down, to act. But he held himself back. Observation first. Control first. Every reaction had to be deliberate.
They passed beneath him, their conversation clipped and technical. Mentions of "NullLight readings" and "anomalous mana flux" drifted upward. Takumi understood them perfectly. Not just the words, but the tension in their posture, the weight of authority and training behind every move.
"They're blind to half the truth," Shigure whispered. "They have no idea what you really are. And that's exactly how we like it."
The Hunters passed, leaving the streets silent again. Takumi exhaled. The pulse inside him slowed slightly. But he knew this was only the beginning.
The night stretched on. He moved from rooftop to rooftop, exploring his limits, sensing the city's response to his new existence. Shadows twisted around him like obedient tendrils, responding to subtle cues he didn't consciously command. Each movement was a dance, each breath a meditation on precision and power.
By the time dawn bled its first light over the horizon, Takumi had covered nearly a kilometer of urban landscape, unseen, undetected, and yet fully aware of every pulse, every shift of mana, every whisper of dimensional anomaly.
He paused atop a tall building, overlooking the city. The NullLight Rift's echo pulsed faintly in the distance, invisible but omnipresent. The streets below were waking, unaware of the godlike events that had occurred and the new entity walking among them.
"You're ready," Shigure said, almost approvingly. "Ready enough to start asking questions. Ready enough to push the limits. But remember—every choice now has weight. Every action echoes."
Takumi's gaze hardened. He clenched his fists, feeling the hum of dual mana coursing through him. He didn't need to run. He didn't need to hide. The Vessel wasn't a victim, and it wasn't prey.
He was the axis.
The world hadn't seen the half of what he could do yet.
And somewhere, deep inside him, Shigure grinned.
"Good," the voice whispered. "Let's see how far we can push this."
Above the city, the sun rose, indifferent, casting long shadows across streets that would soon tremble.
The Vessel Era was no longer just beginning. It was evolving.