Haruki's eyes flew open. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath came in gasps, as if she had been underwater for minutes. She was back in her body. The sensation of touch, the chill in the air, the scent of earth—all real again. But something inside her had changed. Deeper. In her soul.
She lifted her head and immediately saw Daiki. His body trembled, his face burned with fever, his skin pale and slick with sweat. But what truly terrified Haruki was his leg. Where the arrow had struck, the skin had darkened—almost black—and the corruption had spread to the other leg as well, like thick, creeping veins. The magic pulsed along his tendons, as though a living entity were slowly claiming his flesh. The cursed limb was now covered in coarse black fur, and every movement produced a soft but chilling creaking sound—as if it were no longer flesh and blood, but something other. Something unnatural.
The mist they had seen at the edge of Isanori had crept closer, all the way to the path. Yet it stopped short, as though some invisible wall kept it at bay. The sanctuary's sacred presence protected them—for now. Still, Haruki could feel something lurking beyond it. Watching. And the creaking sound from Daiki's corrupted leg seemed to beckon the darkness, as though calling out to the demons.
Haruki took a deep breath and looked to the ground. There lay the shattered urn that had once hidden the sword. The sand was scattered, and at its center, something gleamed. A blade. Not just any blade.
The blade—the one the dragon had spoken of.
She knelt and carefully lifted it from the sand. A yellow gem glowed from the hilt, and the moment she touched it, something stirred within her. Deep inside. In her soul... an eye opened.
The dragon's eye.
As her fingers closed around the hilt, it wasn't just the dragon's gaze she felt awakening inside her—her own senses sharpened. She could hear the blades of grass swaying in the breeze, the groaning of the sanctuary's ancient timbers, and she saw how the mist writhed in the distance, as if it lived. As if she had awoken into a new world—the dragon's world.
Ancient symbols ran along the blade—symbols she now understood. The names of her ancestors. And the Oath of Flame that bound them all. She was one of them.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and the dragon's voice rang out in her mind.
"I will help you. My knowledge is now yours."
When she opened her eyes again, Haruki knew what had to be done. She knew which herbs could help, which leaves to brew, what proportions to use, how long to boil them. The knowledge felt both foreign and familiar—as if it had always been within her, only forgotten until now.
She moved with purpose. The sword in her hand guided her, and the plants she needed grew near the sanctuary—as though destiny itself had placed them there. All but one. One herb had already been swallowed by the mist.
She stumbled briefly over something—a rusted spearhead protruding from the earth. The moment her hand touched it, a memory surged through her. A stranger's face. A scream. Fire and blood... It wasn't her own memory, yet it burned through her as if it were.
Haruki hesitated. Then she stepped beyond the sanctuary's protective circle. The moment she entered the mist, she felt it—something watching her. Following her movements. Sensing her presence. A chill raced down her spine. Then she heard it. The creaking. The same sound Daiki's corrupted leg had made. As if the darkness itself was answering the call.
She saw nothing. Heard nothing. And yet—she moved. Her body reacted as if guided by something other than will. A single motion split the approaching shadow in two.
The dragon's voice returned.
"I told you—I will not leave you."
Haruki said nothing. She simply nodded. She knew it was true. The strike, the speed, the instinct—it wasn't just her own. The knowledge she once lacked was now part of her. Her senses, the scents, the sounds, the shadow of danger—everything had changed.
She returned to the sanctuary and began preparing the remedy. Every movement followed an inner rhythm, as if enacting an ancient ritual. She added the herbs in a precise order, and as the mixture began to boil over the fire, she whispered softly—words in a forgotten tongue she had never learned, yet now understood. Hours passed. Daiki's body shifted between tension and stillness, fever and torment flickering across his face. Haruki didn't sleep, didn't eat—she only brewed, replaced compresses, and dripped the remedy between Daiki's lips. The sword lay beside her the entire time, guarding them both.
Daiki remained unconscious for eight hours.
Now it was Haruki who watched over him. Who cared for him. Who shielded him. She knew what to do. Her movements were certain. And in her heart burned gratitude. For the dragon. For not leaving her alone. For showing her the way.
Then the voice returned, deep within her soul:
"You are the one. And I will remain with you. But if Daiki follows us... he will be in danger. We cannot always protect him. The time will come when you must choose. The world... or Daiki."
Haruki's heart clenched. But she knew the dragon spoke the truth. The only question now was: Would that moment come? And if it did—what would she choose?
Daiki awoke.
For a brief second, it was as if all pain had vanished. He opened his eyes with relief and saw the familiar interior of the sanctuary. Not far from him, Haruki sat, her back to him, quietly stirring something in a small bowl. The movements, the scent of herbs, the calm around them—it felt like waking from a nightmare.
"Haruki," he rasped, trying to sit up. "I'm awake... I'm okay..."
But the moment he lifted himself, his body gave out and he collapsed. His legs were still weak, unsteady. His body hadn't fully returned to him. The black magic had not disappeared completely—but the poison had retreated. He would live.
Haruki was at his side in an instant. And when she looked into his eyes, tears of relief shone in her gaze.
"It's not too late..." she whispered. "You woke up..."
She helped him lie back down. And when his breathing had calmed, she told him everything. About meeting the dragon. About the other realm. About the truth few knew. She explained that the legends they had heard were based in fact—fragments of a much larger story. Her ancestors' names were etched into the blade, and the Oath of Flame now burned in her own soul.
She told him about the sword, the scale embedded in its hilt, the yellow stone—not the dragon's eye, but a fragment of its heart. And about the warning: that if Daiki came with them, he would be in grave danger. One day, she would have to choose—Daiki, or the world.
Daiki was silent for a long moment. Then, though his voice was faint, there was no hesitation in it.
"Then I'm coming," he said. "No matter what—demon, nightmare, death's whisper—I won't leave you, Haruki. Never."
He was quiet again for a few moments. Pain passed across his face, but his eyes gleamed. Haruki met his gaze, and in that moment, no more words were needed. The bond between them was stronger than anything—even the dragon's warning.
Haruki moved to him, knelt by his side, and helped him lie back once more. He was still weak, his body fighting the remnants of the dark magic, but the remedy was working—his skin no longer pulsed with pain, the black fur was receding, and the demonic creaking had ceased. The mist, too, had retreated, held at bay—perhaps by the sword's hidden power.
Then Haruki slowly drew out the blade and showed it to Daiki. The yellow gem in the hilt now glowed softly, as if it pulsed—housing not the dragon's eye, but a piece of its heart. A heart that once drove an ancient creature forward, and now beat within her. The moment her hand touched the hilt again, she felt the dragon's spirit stir within her—not in words, but in memories, instincts, and knowledge.
"This sword is my inheritance," Haruki whispered. "My ancestors didn't just fight beside the dragons... They sealed their hearts into the swords, so they could live on through time."
Daiki listened carefully, his expression turning solemn. "You mean... the dragon lives inside you?"
Haruki nodded. "And now I live inside it."
The fire crackled softly beside them, and the first light of dawn spilled through the sanctuary's entrance. Haruki knew their journey was only just beginning. But she was no longer alone—not with the dragon, and not with Daiki.
The time had come. Something had changed. And though she didn't yet know what awaited them, she could feel the weight of the choice hanging in the air. The dragon's spirit was real. And now, their fates were bound together. Every step they took from here on out would shape not only their world—but an ancient legacy.