Upon walking into the doors, there was the smell of old wood and dust. The room had multiple punching bags, weights clustered in the corner, and a boxing ring. The boy punching the training dummy had very light blonde hair, a slim athletic frame, and dark eyes. He moved with efficiency. His right forearm and hand were covered in white bandages.

  Aisho glanced around, taking it all in. Yuta gave her a look like "don't say anything dumb," before walking toward the center of the room.

  “Yo, Trace,” Yuta said casually. “Where's Daryl at?”

  Trace looked over at Yuta and Aisho before answering, his voice soft. “He should be in his bedroom.”

  Yuta motioned for Aisho to follow her. They walked towards the end of the room and into a hallway. She took a right and knocked on a door, “Hey, Daryl, it’s me, Yuta. I’m coming in.”

  There was a brief pause before they heard a gruff voice say, “Come in.”

  Yuta pushed the door open and entered. An old man sat on a straw mat inside, cross-legged. The right side of his face was burnt and red, and he had long black hair stretching down to the middle of his back. At his side, his left arm hung limp. His eyes were closed, he sat up straight, and breathed steadily. Meditating.

  Yuta gave a nervous bow. “Yo, Daryl. I brought home a stray. She’s got nowhere else to go, so… she’s crashing here now.”

  “Tch, this isn’t some playground.” Daryl slowly stood up and opened his eyes. His right eye was pale, like it was drained of color. “You can’t just bring home whoever you want.”

  “She’s a runaway like Trace and I. She doesn’t have a place to stay,” Yuta rubbed the back of her neck. “She wants to be a Lancer.”

  Daryl stared at Aisho for a long moment. She straightened up, trying to look tougher than she felt.

  “She can stay in my room,” Yuta added. Then to Aisho, “Yeah?”

  Aisho nodded, keeping her voice firm, “Yeah.”

  Daryl grunted, exhaling through his nose. “Alright. She can stay.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowing at Aisho. “What’s your name?”

  “My name is Aisho Omari.”

  “You awakened your Dragon Vein, right?”

  Aisho gave a polite nod.

  Daryl paced around the room. “Good. Tell me about your Yogen. How powerful is it?”

  Aisho hesitated. She didn’t want to make a bad first impression and lose her only chance to become a Lancer. “My Yogen… It’s speed-related. I don’t know much about it or how to activate it. But I do know that when it does activate, I feel a sort of burn in my chest.”

  Yuta sighed.

  “You can’t control your Yogen?”

  “Well… if you put it like that, then it seems a lot worse,” Aisho said, his voice gradually shrinking.

  Daryl took a peek outside his window, pulling back the dusty curtain. “Yogen is the strength of one's Dragon Vein. It is their otherworld power—their Dragon Vein energy turned into special techniques akin to their style and character.”

  Daryl grunted. “Yogen’s the sword. But a swordsman without technique only flails.”

  He paused dramatically, letting the words hang.

  “The technique,” he said finally, “is Dragon Vein energy control and Kageuchi. Have you heard of those two?”

  Aisho said. “No, sir.”

  “Drop the ‘sir’ unless you’re in training,” Daryl muttered. “Then I am ‘sir.’ Got it?”

  “Yes,” Aisho said, slightly sheepish.

  “Kageuchi is the counterpart to Yogen. Where Yogen is spiritual, Kageuchi is physical. Martial arts. Dragon Vein energy is key in either creating or learning a new Kaguechi technique. Think of it like martial arts.”

  Aisho’s eyes sparkled at the word martial arts. Her lips twitched into a grin she could barely contain. “That’s more my language!”

  Daryl looked at her from the corner of his eye, a smirk at the corner of his mouth before disappearing again. “We’ll see. The Cracked Fang Tournament. You already know about it, right?”

  Aisho nodded. “Yuta mentioned it.”

  “It’s a one-on-one knockout tournament. No teams, no help. Just you, your Yogen, and whatever Kageuchi you can muster. Winner gets an escort ride from a certified Lancer to the Lancer Trials in Kaizuron.”

  His voice sharpened. “That ride’s the only chance some of you are ever gonna get.”

  He looked Aisho straight in the eye. “So if you’re serious about being a Lancer, you’ll get ready for that tournament like your life depends on it.”

  Aisho clenched her fists. “I am serious.”

  “Good.” Daryl rubbed his chin. “Now, there's only one winner, I doubt this Lancer will nominate all three of ya. Get changed. Both of you. Training starts now. Uniforms are in your room. Be out back in five.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked out.

  Yuta sighed, already walking down the hallway again. “You get used to his ‘grumpy old sage’ thing.”

  Aisho grinned. “I kinda like it.”

  They reached Yuta’s room. She shoved the door open with her foot. “Welcome to my room, Charisma Girl.”

  The room was lived in. Clothes were half-folded in corners, a few training manuals were scattered across a low table, and training weights were in the corner, like there weren't enough in the training room.

  Aisho blinked. “Interesting.”

  Yuta laughed. “It's a livable catastrophe.” Yuta pointed to a mattress on the ground in the corner of the room. It had a slightly yellow-tinted pillow with a small blanket on top. “That’s where you’ll sleep. I know it doesn’t look appealing, but it’s all the old man has.”

  Aisho slowly frowned. “Great…”

  They dropped their stuff off. Aisho took a quick shower before slipping on her training hakama, black and sleeveless, with deep indigo sashes.

  Yuta opened another door down the hall, peeking in. “And that’s Trace’s room. Neat freak. He even folds his socks.”

  They stepped outside into the back courtyard. The air was dry, and the ground was packed with sandy earth. The sun hung high overhead.

  Daryl stood in the center, arms crossed. Trace was already by his side.

  Daryl looked at them. “You’re late.”

  Yuta rolled her eyes. “By, like, two minutes.”

  “That’s two minutes too long.”

  Daryl shifted his gaze to Aisho. “Aisho, have you met Trace yet?” Daryl placed his only functional hand on Trace’s shoulder.

  Aisho ran over to introduce herself. “Hi, my name is Aisho Omari. I’m an aspiring Lancer and from a faraway island.”

  Aisho held out her right hand to give him a handshake. “I'm seventeen years old. I heard you're also a runaway.”

  Trace was about to accept the handshake, but he realized the condition of his right hand was so he hesitated. Yuta elbowed Aisho’s shoulder.

  Aisho noticed this and held out her left hand instead. “Sorry.”

  Trace accepted her handshake. “My name is Trace Baker, but I didn’t necessarily run from home.”

  Aisho eyed his bandaged arm. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what happened to your—”

  “Introductions are done now,” Daryl interjected. “Training will be in session now. As for your warm-up and mine, you three have to try and land a strike on me.”

  Yuta walked forward, rolling her shoulders. “Ha! This’ll be light work now that there are three of us.”

  Trace chimed in. “We just need to work together, alright?”

  Aisho grinned, totally ready for battle. Aisho shifted her feet as she took her stance beside Yuta and Trace. Daryl stood in the center of the yard, eyes closed. The veins in his body pulsed red for a moment.

  “You have ten minutes,” Daryl said, voice low. “Impress me.”

  Trace, Yuta, and Aisho surrounded Daryl in a triangle.

  “Alright, gramps,” Yuta muttered with a cocky smirk. “Don’t blink.”

  She launched first, no warning, no hesitation. A freezing chill spread throughout the air. The veins in her body pulsed blue as his palm shot forward, six thin ice spikes materialized in the air and launched one by one at Daryl.

  He didn’t move, he merely shut his eyes.

  Aisho blinked.

  Daryl had pivoted slightly, just enough to avoid every one of them. His eyelids were still sealed shut.

  Aisho marvelled at the sight of how Daryl could pinpoint and dodge Yuta’s attacks without even opening his eyes.

  Yuta clicked her tongue.

  Trace moved next, sweeping his unbandaged arm in an arc behind him. A shimmering void-disc hummed from his fingertips as the veins in his arm pulsed purple. He let it sail in a curved path toward Daryl’s chest.

  Daryl raised his right arm and swatted the void disc toward Aisho like it was a mosquito. The air pulsed from the impact.

  Aisho was late to react, but her Yogen activated in the nick of time to get out of the way, her shoes sliding along the sandy ground.

  “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry, Aisho.” Trace said, sincerely.

  Aisho grinned and gave Trace a thumbs-up. “No, you're cool,” she said, standing up and dusting herself off. “Hey, was that your Yogen?”

  “Yeah, yeah it was. it's an intangible void-disc where anything that crosses paths with it has its spiritual connection temporarily severed. If it hits you… Well… it’ll just weaken your connection to your Dragon Vein momentarily.”

  “That reminds me,” Yuta cracked her neck. “You don’t know how Daryl can stick and move like that.”

  “I don’t,” Aisho called out.

  “Well, that’s his Yogen ability. It’s pretty simple, but he’s skilled. If he focuses enough, he can overlook an area he is familiar with at the current time. Right now, think of him fighting in third person.”

  Aisho thought for a moment on how to approach this situation, but she couldn’t wait. She adjusted her goggles and got down into a sprinter's stance.

  She tried to channel that same flare she felt when she first used her Yogen. Then she sprinted forward, sand kicking up behind her like smoke. She thought her Yogen would power up anytime soon, but it didn’t. She zeroed in on Daryl, wound up her fist, and swung.

  He sidestepped, tripping Aisho as she blasted past him like a runaway train.

  “Wha—!”

  Daryl tripped her, rolling into the dirt with a face full of sand. She popped up, spitting it out. “I’m good! I meant to do that!”

  Daryl was not amused.

  “Okay, okay,” Yuta said. “We need a plan.”

  “No time for a plan,” Trace said, already charging another disc.

  “I didn’t take you for the quiet brute type,” Yuta muttered.

  They split again. Trace threw another disc wide, forcing Daryl to turn his body just slightly. At that exact moment, Yuta clapped her hands together. A trail of ice splinters formed around his feet. This was her Shatter Trap.

  It was a cluster of brittle ice spikes that were meant to explode into ice shards once struck, turning its utility into offense.

  Aisho took her cue, sprinting back at Daryl. Daryl tilted his head.

  Just before Aisho reached him, Daryl shifted one step back, stepping precisely onto one of the Shatter Traps—shattering it on purpose. The shards blasted outward in a small explosion.

  Aisho flinched mid-step, wind-blasted by the ice debris.

  “You’re fighting separately,” Daryl said calmly, voice barely audible over the blast. “Your rhythm—off.”

  “We’re working on it!” Aisho yelled.

  Trace narrowed his eyes. “We have to try again.”

  This time, he charged his palm, not a disc, but a Palm Strike—a Kageuchi technique that Daryl had taught Yuta and Trace. It was the most basic air strike that could disrupt a user’s Yogen if it connects.

  A focused bolt of air energy burst forward. At the same time, Yuta side-stepped behind Daryl, materializing a thin ice blade in a snap.

  Aisho, seeing the two of them in position, told herself. “Alright. Don’t trip this time…”

  She ran, this time angling from the side.

  Daryl turned just slightly. He raised his functioning arm and parried Trace’s Palm Strike mid-air. The wind dispersed into dust. He spun around and ducked under Yuta’s ice blade. Yuta continued her onslaught with multiple slices and swings, but he dodged all of them flawlessly.

  After an overcommitted strike with Yuta’s ice blade. Daryl shattered her sword using just the palm of his hand.

  Afterward, he sidestepped Aisho’s failed attempt at a surprise attack. Aisho flew past, stumbling but staying upright.

  “Dang it!” she shouted.

  “You three are strong,” Daryl said. “But strength without unity means nothing.”

  “We’re figuring it out!” Yuta barked, summoning a flurry of small frost needles mid-air and hurling them like darts.

  Daryl swept his palm in an arc of defense. He struck each needle in the air before they could land.

  This entire time, Trace had been charging a large void-disc with his left hand. He raised it over his head and shot it at Daryl.

  With ease, Daryl merely held out his hand and caught the disc. The disc dispersed into dust.

  Trace’s mouth gaped open.

  “Impossible! My disc is intangible, how could you catch it?”

  “Dragon Vein energy control,” Daryl said, his eyes still closed. “By channeling my Dragon Vein energy into my hand. It allowed me to catch your ‘intangible’ disc.”

  Yuta threw a Palm Strike toward the ground, kicking up dust. Trace lunged forward. Aisho circled wide, readying a running strike.

  Trace launched a series of combo martial arts attacks. Daryl blocked and parried it with his forearm, then he kicked Trace in the chest, knocking him away. Aisho dashed in.

  Daryl grabbed her ankle mid-kick.

  His grip was steel. “You're two seconds too slow.”

  He pivoted and tossed her gently into a roll across the sand.

  Trace tried one last disc. Daryl shot a Palm Strike at it before it even lit up, dissipating it.

  The ten-minute bell clanged. It was an old, rusted alarm that Daryl must have set before.

  Daryl exhaled and opened his eyes. “Not bad. That was a good warm-up.”

  Aisho sat up. “Not bad? We didn’t even touch you.”

  “But you stopped flailing,” he said. “That’s progress.”

  Yuta helped Aisho up. “You good?”

  “Yup,” Aisho said, grinning with dust in her teeth. “That was awesome.”

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  Trace nodded, quietly stretching his arm. “He’s strong.”

  Daryl sat down in a seated kneeling position in the shade near the dojo. “Once you three are ready, have a seat in front of me.”

  Aisho, Yuta, and Trace brushed themselves off and took a seated kneel in front of Daryl.

  “Listen close,” Daryl said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “I’m going to teach you a very important Kageuchi technique. This technique isn’t flashy. It’s not super powerful. But it’s the foundation that’ll put you ahead of other aspiring Lancers.”

  Aisho could barely conceal her excitement.

  “It is called the Seishinryu Line. It has two uses,” he said.

  “To begin,” Daryl continued, “you must be still. Completely still. Shut out the world. Shut out your senses. Focus on your heartbeat. And even deeper than that, the heartbeat of your Seishinryu.”

  Aisho blinked. “Wait, our Seishinryu has a heartbeat?”

  Daryl glared. “It’s an extension of your spirit. Your spirit breathes, beats, suffers, and hungers, like you do. You just ain’t been listening.”

  Yuta interrupted. “What’s that even good for?”

  Daryl took a slow breath. “The Seishinryu Line is about connection. You and your Seishinryu are not separate. They’re pieces of the same soul. If you don't learn to listen to it, it’ll never listen to you.”

  Aisho wondered. “What’s its other use?”

  “By building that connection, you can channel their life into you. By matching your heartbeat during battle, you can enhance your strength and control over your Yogen.”

  I can sustain that technique for about an hour. Once you three figure it out, I doubt you’d be able to sustain for a minute without proper practice.”

  He shifted a little. “Now. Close your eyes. Feel your heartbeat.”

  They obeyed.

  Aisho squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching her nose. She tried to focus, but her mind couldn’t stop thinking. Heartbeat? Okay, got it, boom boom boom—wait, am I breathing too loud? Should I not breathe? What if I stop breathing? Am I dying?! Stillness, she remembered. She gritted her teeth and tried again.

  Trace was already slipping into a meditative state. His breathing was slow and practiced like he’d been doing this since birth. He continued to focus on the steady drum of his heart. Then he listened deeper.

  Yuta sighed through her nose, impatient but persistent. She thought to herself: Heartbeat. Easy. She caught the rhythm, felt the dragon in her veins. She tried to go deep and force her breathing to slow.

  Daryl watched in silence.

  Inside herself, Aisho heard a faint noise like a faraway bell. Her heartbeat was fast, erratic, but this other heartbeat…It was steady. Confident. Bold.

  Her Yogen, the golden speed. It was wild; she just needed to listen. Is that you? she thought in awe.

  She tried to match its rhythm, slowing her own racing heart to meet it. Her body trembled slightly.

  She felt a shock like being dunked in ice-cold water. When Aisho opened her "eyes," she was no longer sitting in the yard.

  ***

  She was in the same position as she was in the courtyard, but this time she was in the middle of a shallow golden ocean. Above her, there was a huge cluster of trees spanning the horizon. From their limbs rained showers of golden leaves.

  Aisho blinked, slowly lifting her hands, watching droplets of gold leaves slide from her fingers. She laughed out loud. "Man, this is... insane! This is mine?!"

  From the horizon, cutting through the gold. Something ancient approached through the air. She saw them: a dragon.

  Sleek and majestic. They had scales of molten gold that shimmered with each movement. Their eyes were slits of amber, piercing but calm.

  "Aisho Omari," he rumbled, his body splashing down into the water. "Welcome home."

  Aisho stood up clumsily, water sloshing around her. "Are you my... Seishinryu?" she asked, grinning widely.

  The dragon tilted his head. "I am Retsin. The pulse that moves your legs."

  Aisho punched her fist into her hand, excitement vibrating off her. "Heck yeah! You're so cool! I knew my Seishinryu would be tough!"

  Retsin laughed.

  "You are loud, as always," he said. "But there is a fire in you that no water can drown."

  Aisho stepped closer without fear, snooping around to see all of him. "So... what now? We chill? Eat something? Do I get some crazy abilities now? How do I use my Yogen… or Dragon Vein for that matter?"

  Another laugh.

  "You have much to learn," Retsin said. "But I will give you your first glimpse into your true strength. Listen closely."

  He coiled around her protectively.

  "There is a Kageuchi technique only you can awaken. It is called the Retsin Pulse."

  The name spoke to her, and she shivered with anticipation.

  "In battle, when your Dragon Vein burns high enough, your body will call upon it. Your leg or your arm will be enveloped in my light. The moment it strikes, it will release a lightning spark powerful enough to crack through defenses and incapacitate even the mightiest of foes."

  Aisho's eyes widened, and she started to bounce on her toes. "Wait, wait, seriously?! Lightning?!"

  "Lightning, yes," Retsin said.

  Aisho threw her fists into the air. "LET'S GO! I'm gonna be the fastest Lancer there is!!"

  Retsin’s gaze darkened. "The Pulse is not easily achieved," he warned. "It must be earned through the heat of real battle. Through pain. Through loss. Through the need to protect something greater than yourself."

  Aisho, still grinning but now with a tilt of nervousness, nodded her head. "Got it… so about my Yogen… how do I exactly use it? Yuta and Trace are already so strong, and I don’t know what I’m doing."

  Retsin said, his voice firm. “A Yogen isn’t just an action. You become it.”

  Aisho scratched her head. “That… doesn’t help.”

  “You must feel the Dragon Vein flow inside you. Gathering it in your fists or legs will enhance that limb's properties—that’s called basic circulation. But your Yogen, let it gather in your conviction.”

  “Conviction?”

  “What part of yourself do you refuse to let go of? What part of yourself will not falter? Name it and release it in truth.”

  Aisho stared at her hands.

  “I don’t want to run away anymore,” Aisho said. “I want to fight for the people who took me in. For the people I have yet to meet.”

  Retsin laughed.

  “Channel that conviction in yourself,” he said. “But careful now, Yogens drain your Dragon Vein energy if used too often.”

  “There is more," Retsin said, more seriously now. "Visions have come to me... glimpses of a boy who will one day stand in your path."

  Aisho tilted her head. "A boy?"

  The golden leaves fell a little slower.

  "He is… your reflection. Your… opposite. Where you are the Golden Speed, he is the Violet Speed. Where you race forward to protect... he races forward to destroy."

  Aisho mumbled. "Violet speed...?"

  "You are two sides of the same coin, Aisho," Retsin murmured. "I’m not sure what’ll happen when you meet, but… it might hurt."

  For once, Aisho was quiet. Completely quiet.

  Retsin leaned down until his massive head was level with hers, his golden eye locking with hers.

  "Remember this," he said, his voice low. "Your strength does not come from perfection. It does not come from being unstoppable."

  He paused.

  "It comes from understanding you are not responsible for the world’s cruelty... only for how you choose to face it."

  The words hit deep into Aisho's heart. She swallowed hard.

  She clenched her fists, smiling crookedly through the nervous energy rising in her chest. "Got it," she said, her voice a little raspier than before. "I’ll take this challenge. I'll beat him. I'll beat anything."

  Retsin smiled, "You will try, and that is enough."

  Above her, the rain of golden leaves thickened, spinning faster and faster, wrapping Aisho in a cocoon of light. Her body felt lighter.

  And the last thing she saw before she returned to the waking world was Retsin’s massive form vanishing into the horizon.

  ***

  Yuta gritted her teeth.

  Her heartbeat was steady, but her mind kept snarling at itself. What if your Seishinryu doesn’t even want you? What if you’re not good enough?

  She shook the thoughts off violently. There, she felt a heartbeat unlike hers. It clicked. Sharp. Measured. Ruthless.

  Her lips curled into a wry smirk. And then she matched it.

  The moment Yuta's heartbeat clicked into place, a freezing sensation prickled down her spine.

  The warmth of the dojo courtyard vanished. She found herself sitting on a desolate field of ice. Each breath Yuta drew into her lungs stung like winter’s bite.

  Yuta slowly looked around, arms crossed over her chest. "Well," she muttered, "this is... cozy."

  A low, crackling growl rippled through the air. Yuta turned her head sharply, already on alert.

  From the mist, a massive shape emerged.

  It was a dragon. Its body was lean and angular, its scales like broken shards of frozen crystal. Jagged spikes crowned his long neck and curved tail, and his narrow eyes glowed with a blue light.

  Yet somehow, Yuta knew instantly: This brutal thing was hers. This cold dragon of ice was the piece of her she hadn’t acknowledged for years.

  The dragon encircled her, moving silently across the ice; it was like he wasn’t even touching it.

  He spoke. "You took your time, little rebel."

  Yuta snorted, tossing her hair out of her eyes with a flick of her head. "Yeah, well, had to make an entrance. Can't just waltz into some psycho ice wasteland."

  The dragon’s crystalline mouth curled into something like a cruel grin.

  “Deflecting with that silver tongue," he said. "I wondered if time would soon sand you down. Maybe, it never will."

  "Guess I'm just built different," Yuta joked. “Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

  “Hyoketsu.”

  He circled closer, lowering his head until Yuta felt his icy breath.

  "You run from your past because you refuse to break," he said quietly. "If you continue to be weak, you will snap."

  Yuta stiffened. Something about the way he said it struck a little too close to old memories. She saw flashes of her sitting properly in endless ceremonies. Watching her brother train and work for the Akashiro clan’s elders. He seemed happy, and Yuta was happy for him, until he smiled hollowly in his casket.

  Hyoketsu continued. “Your brother, Yuta.”

  She lashed out. “You know about my past?!”

  “Yes, I do, we are united after all,” Hyoketsu said, a chill in his voice. “You were born into the Akashiro clan, strict disciplines, honor code, and grooming children from birth.”

  “They worked my brother to death to the point where he died from a mysterious cause in a Lancer mission. I don’t just fight for honor, I’ll become a Lancer, then I’ll tear down the system that killed my brother.”

  "And I won’t snap," she said, jaw clenching. "Not for them. Not for anyone."

  Hyoketsu’s frost-blue eyes glinted like sharpened knives.

  "Good," he said. "Snap for no one. But listen, child, to become a Lancer in this world, you must be more than a blade that attacks."

  "You must be the Tyrant of the frostbitten heart. Deadly and patient."

  Yuta swallowed down the lump forming in her throat.

  "Yeah, well..." She shifted her weight onto one foot. "Nobody ever accused me of being patient."

  "Then you will suffer," he said simply. "And in that suffering, you will carve yourself into the tool you were born to be."

  A vein bulged in Yuta’s head. “You’re really pissing me off.”

  They stood in silence for a long moment.

  Finally, Yuta squared her shoulders and spoke. "Fine. If I'm gonna do this, I'm doing it my way."

  Hyoketsu cocked his head slightly.

  "I’m not here to prop up some broken system. I'm not here to smile and bow and call it strength. I’m gonna burn my clan’s thrones down," she said, her eyes cold. "I’ll shatter their lies. Their stupid hierarchies. Their bloodlines. All of it."

  "And I'm not gonna die like some pawn," Yuta growled. "I'm going to win. And I'm gonna drag the truth out of them if I have to tear the whole damn world apart."

  Hyoketsu's chest rumbled. "Then tell me," he said, voice slicing the mist around them. "Say you’ll do it."

  Yuta didn't hesitate. "I’ll do it, Hyoketsu," she said. "I'll be their tyrant or whatever you said."

  "Good," he said, voice a low, dangerous purr. "Because once you take this path, there is no forgiveness. No retreat.”

  Yuta’s smirk sharpened.

  "Sounds like my kinda deal," she said. “Don’t plan on going back anyway.”

  The world around her exploded into a whirl of ice and stars and piercing blue light.

  “Don’t betray your promise, Yuta.”

  ***

  Meanwhile, Trace’s stillness deepened. He heard it.

  His Seishinryu’s heartbeat was faster... stronger. Heavy, like the earth itself. He matched it without effort.

  The moment the last heartbeat synced, he was gone.

  The first thing Trace noticed was the air—thick and choking. Twisted trees, the color of dark purple and black, stretched tall. A heavy mist clung low to the ground. The world was eerily silent except for his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  Trace’s expression stayed still, but his right arm itched beneath the bandages.

  He walked deeper.

  In the center of the forest stood a colossal iron cage. Inside, something moved—something waiting. Five chains as large as tree trunks wrapped around the bars, each containing one lock.

  The air grew colder, sharper. The bandages wrapped around Trace’s right arm began to tremble.

  A low, rumbling growl echoed from the cage, vibrating through Trace’s shoes. Two molten purple eyes opened from within the shadows, glaring at him.

  "You came at last," a voice snarled. It was deep, wet, and violent.

  Trace didn’t flinch.

  "You’re the reason for all of it!" he yelled. "Aren't you?"

  The creature inside the cage shifted forward. The beast was apprehended by chains that rattled and groaned under its weight. Out of the gloom, a monstrous form emerged. A beast built from draconic muscle, scales dark as ink, and claws that looked like they could shred anything.

  "Name yourself," Trace said.

  The dragon-thing's fanged mouth twisted into a malicious grin.

  "I am Shitsugen," it snarled. "I am your nature. Your hunger. Your answer."

  As it spoke, a jolt of agony shot through Trace’s right arm.

  Trace fell to his knees holding his arm. “Not this…” Trace mumbled.

  Trace yelled, “I’m not like you!”

  He hissed through his teeth as the bandages shredded apart, revealing jagged dragon scales. His arm twisted and cracked grotesquely, warping into a monstrous purple draconic claw.

  Trace clutched the mutated arm, feeling its urge for destruction clawing at his mind. He couldn’t tolerate the pain, but he gritted his teeth and stood.

  "I didn’t come here to surrender," Trace said, his breath shallow. "I came here to break you."

  Shitsugen laughed. "You cannot 'break' what you are," he snarled, his chains slamming against the bars. "You think this power is a curse? It is the only truth you have left. Why restrain it? Why fear it? Give in and sow havoc on those who have wronged you!"

  Trace narrowed his eyes. "No," he said. "If I use this power, how you want... I'd be no better than the ones who locked me away."

  "You were never better!" Shitsugen roared. "You were born broken! The world spat you out because it knew what you were! A weapon! A curse!"

  The pain in Trace’s arm worsened, and purple mist bled from his arm

  Shitsugen grinned, sensing his hesitation. "Release me," the dragon said, his voice somehow gentle. "Tear the chains from your heart. Feel what it means to be free."

  For a long, horrible moment, Trace considered it. What would it be like to stop pretending? To stop holding back? The thought tempted him more than he wanted to admit.

  But then he remembered: The sick animals near the temple. The shame he brought to his father. The look in his family and friends’ eyes. Not to fear for him. Fear of him.

  Trace looked down, his hair covering his face. He didn’t know what to do.

  Void energy coalesced instantly, surging down his clawed fingers into a void disc. Unlike the precise, spirit-severing discs he creates with his left hand, this one screamed with destructive power. It was larger, heavier, vibrating the air itself. A weapon meant for domination.

  With a grunt, Trace hurled the disc straight at the cage. The void disc struck, and the explosion rocked the entire forest. Shitsugen laughed even as the cage shook violently.

  But the cage held, except for a single lock on the cage that vanished into dust.

  "You see? The first blockade has been unlocked by you." Shitsugen growled, still grinning. "You acknowledge my strength, and you need it. Even in rebellion, you use me."

  Trace’s arm throbbed, the purple claw twitching, hungry for more violence, but he forced it still with only willpower. "You won't control me," he said coldly. "I will control you."

  "You think these locks will save you?" Shitsugen hissed. "You are built to destroy. Built to devour."

  The words struck a nerve deep inside Trace. He looked down at his monstrous arm, then back up at Shitsugen.

  "I don't want forgiveness," Trace said. "And I don’t need your salvation."

  He turned, walking away from the cage. "I'll make my purpose," he said. "Even if I have to drag this curse with me the whole way."

  Behind him, Shitsugen laughed again, satisfied.

  "You’ll be the one to release me," the dragon whispered. "You’ll realize that you need my strength to achieve your goals."

  As Trace left the cage behind, the mist in the forest grew thicker until it enclosed him. Then, he woke up in the real world.

  ***

  Daryl saw them each one surrounded by a new glow: gold for Aisho, dark purple for Trace, light blue for Yuta.

  He snorted to himself. "Not bad... for rookies."

  He closed his eyes, waiting for their arrival. Their real training was only just beginning.

  One by one, they each awoke: Trace, then Yuta, then Aisho.

  “So, how was it meeting your Seishinryu?” Daryl said. “I hope you asked for their name.”

  Aisho was the first to speak, “My Seishinryu is awesome! Their name is Retsin, a large golden dragon. Retsin taught me how to use my Yogen. They mentioned a Kageuchi technique I have the potential to learn, it’s called the Retsin Pulse. Cool, right?”

  Daryl let out a small laugh, “I’m glad you built a strong connection with your Seishinryu, Aisho.”

  Yuta muttered, “Good for you.”

  Aisho’s smile softened, becoming almost shy. "I mean... It’s not like it’s all good news," Aisho said, glancing down at her hands.

  Daryl raised an eyebrow.

  Aisho hesitated, then added, “Retsin said... there’s a lot I still need to… I guess… resolve… in the future and…" She trailed off, forcing another smile.

  Trace finally looked up, his gaze sharp.

  Daryl’s face darkened slightly, but he said nothing, waiting.

  Aisho quickly waved her hands. "It’s nothing bad! I mean... nothing urgent. Really.” She laughed a little too loudly. "It’s just... You know, regular family stuff."

  Daryl looked toward Trace and Yuta. Trace avoided his gaze and looked towards his own bandaged arm, a hint of sorrow in his eyes.

  “What about you, Yuta?” Daryl said.

  “Huh?” Yuta said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “His name is Hyoketsu,

  “He’s... loud,” she muttered, glancing away. “Thinks he knows everything.”

  Trace remained silent, still studying his bandaged arm as if trying to seal away the memory of the claw that had burst free just moments ago.

  Daryl watched them both for a moment, then sighed heavily.

  "Meeting your Seishinryu for the first time isn't always clean or pretty," he said. "They're not always allies. If you’re fighting them, then..."

  He paused, "...you’re fighting yourselves."

  Yuta scoffed under her breath. "Sounds dumb when you say it out loud."

  Trace said nothing at all.

  “What about you, Trace?” Daryl said.

  Trace seemed startled at hearing Daryl say his name.

  “His name is Shitsugen,” Trace mumbled.

  The three of them were looking down at the sandy ground. Daryl noticed this.

  "Next," Daryl said, “Now that you all have been to your inner domain, you can channel their aura into your body. This is a very valuable technique at the novice level.”

  Daryl stood up, followed by his three disciples.

  “Listen carefully,” Daryl said. “What you learned about your Seishinryu was only the first step.”

  Daryl continued, “You all understand how to match your heartbeat with your Seishinryu.”

  He pointed to the center of his chest, “The second step is to channel their energy that you understand now into battle.”

  Daryl closed his eyes, “When you try to match your heartbeat, think of battle. Your goals. Your enemies.”

  He clenched his fist for a moment before releasing. The veins in his body pulsed. He opened his eyes, and a powerful red aura outlined his figure. Yuta, Trace, and Aisho felt its suffocating authority.

  Daryl slowly paced as he spoke, “Just a reminder, most learning it for the first time can only hold it for up to ten seconds max.”

  He stopped circling, “You're green, be thankful if you can even make it to ten seconds.”

  A stillness settled over them as they closed their eyes to focus.

  They searched for the heartbeat. Found it. Matched it. And sprang into action.

  They each opened their eyes at once to see their form.

  At first, it was awkward; their bodies surged with sudden power. Their veins pulsed wildly and half-controlled. Their movements were faster but also heavier.

  Daryl counted out loud for them. They managed to sustain their energy until the six-second mark, where they felt the strain. They continued to hold it until, at the ten-second mark, their aura vanished.

  Trace dropped to one knee, his right arm throbbing painfully under the bandages. He clutched it tightly, feeling Shitsugen’s laughter echo through his mind.

  Yuta bent forward, hands on her knees, scowling furiously at the ground.

  Aisho knelt as well, panting, a shaky smile at her lips.

  Daryl stepped forward, his boots crunching against the sand. "That," he said, "was pathetic."

  Yuta looked up.

  “Give me a break, old man,” she said.

  "But," Daryl added, "it’s a start."

  Daryl walked back towards the dojo, “Alright, it's starting to get late. Training is over. I’m cooking noodles for dinner.”

  “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

  — Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)