The storm did not fade. It grew.
Dawn came as a pallid smear behind clouds so thick they seemed carved from iron. Rain fell in sheets, drumming on the ruined vault and running in rivulets across the shattered courtyard. The lightning had spent itself for now, but a deeper pressure remained—a weight that seemed to gather in the hollows of the mountain and in the marrow of every watcher waiting to see what the boy with the Circuit would become.
Jin did not rest. He stood at the threshold where the door had shattered, bare feet planted in the mud. Each breath drew in more than air—it drew in the coiled remnants of the storm, a resonance he had begun to taste in the marrow of his bones. Sparks crawled along his arms, sliding across his skin in restless arcs.
Integration: 76%.
He knew, with a clarity so cold it bordered on peace, that every moment hence would define the terms of his dominion.
Kasane came to stand beside him in the doorway. She carried her spear in one hand, the blade dark with rain. The dawn washed her scarred face in pale silver, revealing nothing of fear or hope.
"They're still here," she said.
He did not glance at her.
"Of course they are."
"Even after last night?"
"They came to see what I was," Jin replied quietly.
"They have not yet decided if they believe it."
Kasane studied the mass of tents below, half-shrouded in fog.
"You can't kill them all."
"I don't need to," he said.
He looked down the slope, feeling the presence of each watcher, each sword and talisman raised against the chance that they might carve his name into legend by ending it.
"I only need them to understand."
Kasane's voice was low.
"And if they choose not to?"
Jin let the lightning dance across his knuckles, feeling the ease with which he could summon it now.
"Then I will demonstrate."
Behind them, Daigo emerged into the pale dawn, shivering in his thin tunic. His eyes were red-rimmed and wide.
"Master Jin," he called, voice thin over the wind.
He turned.
"Come here."
Daigo picked his way across the wet stones, clutching a scroll to his chest as if it were the last piece of the world that made sense. He stopped a pace away, swallowed, and looked up.
"I—" His throat worked. "I finished the translation."
"The third fragment?"
Daigo nodded.
"Yes."
"And?"
Daigo glanced at Kasane, then back.
"It says that once the Circuit reaches seventy-five percent integration, the bearer is no longer bound by human limitations. That you will become something…"
He hesitated.
"Something else."
Jin held his gaze, unblinking.
"And you fear that?"
Daigo's lips moved soundlessly before he whispered.
"I don't know."
For a moment, the wind carried only the hush of rain.
Jin looked down at his hands.
"Fear is natural," he said at last.
"But fear is not truth."
He turned back to the valley, voice steady.
"Tell me what the fragment said of the next threshold."
Daigo licked his lips, shivering.
"That the seventy-five mark is a gate. That beyond it, the Circuit will seek a True Form—an embodiment. The Codex called it the Crown of Resonance."
Kasane's expression did not change, but her grip tightened on the spear.
"And that means?"
Daigo swallowed.
"That his spirit and the Circuit will merge fully."
Kasane looked at Jin.
"And if that fails?"
"Then he dies."
Jin did not flinch.
"I will not fail."
Daigo's voice was very small.
"It said no bearer ever reached that state and survived unchanged."
The wind tugged at Jin's hair, lifting it from his brow.
"Then I will be the first."
---
At midmorning, the first envoys came.
Three figures climbed the slope without ceremony, cloaks sodden, weapons sheathed. Kasane watched them approach, her face carved from stone. Jin waited in the doorway, his presence so charged that the air shimmered around him in faint arcs of force.
The leader—a tall woman in black-lacquered armor—halted ten paces from the threshold and inclined her head.
"Jin of the Circuit," she called.
He did not move.
"You stand before Commander Isayo of the Eclipsed Moon," she continued.
"We have come to offer terms."
"Speak."
Isayo gestured to her companions, who remained silent as shadows.
"You will lay aside the artifact. You will submit yourself to judgment under the auspices of the Moon's Tribunal. In exchange, your followers will be spared."
Jin regarded her without blinking.
"And if I refuse?"
Isayo's jaw tightened.
"Then the Moon will bring you to heel by any means required."
Kasane stepped forward, her spear point lowering a fraction.
"Be very sure you wish to try."
Isayo looked at her, eyes flat.
"You think he is the first to claim a power beyond mortal reach?"
Kasane did not reply.
Isayo turned back to Jin.
"You will be broken, Circuit or no."
Jin raised one hand, palm outward. Sparks danced across his fingertips.
"Go back to your masters," he said softly.
"Tell them there will be no submission."
Isayo's eyes narrowed.
"Then you are an outlaw to every power that remains."
"I was always an outlaw," he replied.
Isayo's gaze flicked to Kasane, then to Daigo.
"You consign them to the same fate."
Jin's voice did not waver.
"They chose this path."
Isayo regarded him a moment longer, as if measuring the final shape of his defiance. Then she inclined her head once.
"Then remember that you were offered mercy."
She turned and walked back down the slope without looking back.
---
As the day waned, the valley below became a crucible of preparation. War banners were raised. Ranks formed in the mud, iron helms glinting through the curtain of rain. The Eclipsed Moon had brought their full strength—no more pretense, no more negotiations.
In the vault's shattered hall, Jin stood alone before the dais. The lightning within him had grown restless, lashing through his veins with every heartbeat. Each breath felt too shallow, as if the Circuit were pressing outward against the frail barrier of his flesh.
Integration: 78%.
He knew that the threshold would come soon. Whether he wished it or not.
Kasane entered without knocking. She carried a bundle of cloth wrapped around a long shape. When she unrolled it on the stone, he saw the blade glint in the torchlight.
"I brought this," she said.
He looked at her, question unspoken.
"It belonged to my father," she went on.
"He carried it when he broke the siege at Nakarro. I thought—"
She hesitated, something uncharacteristically uncertain in her gaze.
"You might need it."
Jin studied the weapon. A long saber, the steel etched with wave patterns that caught the light. He reached down, closed his hand around the hilt, and felt a surprising warmth in the old iron.
"I am not your father," he said.
"No," Kasane agreed.
"But you may become something greater."
He did not reply.
He lifted the blade, testing the balance. Lightning crawled along the fuller in a slow, languid dance.
"It will do."
Kasane nodded.
"Then I will see that no one comes behind you."
---
At dusk, the first ranks of the Moon's soldiers began their slow advance up the slope. Banners snapped in the wind—black silk marked with a pale disc. The rain had eased to a steady drizzle, but the mud sucked at their boots and slowed their steps. Jin watched from the threshold, feeling the last vestiges of ordinary sensation slough away. Each heartbeat carried more power than his body should have endured.
Integration: 80%.
Daigo came to stand beside him, trembling.
"Master Jin…"
He looked down.
The boy swallowed hard.
"Do you remember who you were?"
Jin considered the question.
"Yes."
"Will you remember…after?"
He did not answer.
The Moon's first line reached the foot of the slope. Horns sounded—low, mournful calls that echoed in the hollows of the ruined vault.
Kasa
ne's voice came from behind.
"If you mean to claim the Crown of Resonance, this is your moment."
Jin stepped forward until the mud swallowed his ankles. The blade in his hand pulsed with every beat of his heart.
He drew a slow breath.
"Then let them come."